Omoka

Omoka remembered the feeling of freezing wind on polished steel more than any warmth. As a warden, their duty was absolute, their focus a blade’s edge. This focus led them to abandon a marketplace to chase a thief, saving a ceremonial banner but allowing a family's food stall to be overturned and ruined in the chaos. They were praised for their success, but the sight of the weeping child haunted them. Disgraced in their own eyes, they left the high guard. It was in the lower city, amidst the bamboo-lined streets, that a baker, seeing the emptiness in their eyes, offered them a piece of toast with jam. The simple sweetness broke something rigid inside them. They learned a new kind of endurance that day, a quiet resilience not unlike Bjorn's. Omoka still wears the old armor, but now they protect cherry blossom picnics and ensure no child goes hungry.