Hyoujirou

Hyoujirou’s combat pole spun in a blur, deflecting a crystal shard aimed at the trembling chimper huddled behind them. The setting sun painted the spinning monoliths above the dark fortress in hues of orange and violet, a view they once enjoyed from a balcony. The feather cape, a remnant of their noble house, felt heavy with irony. They were meant to cultivate rare flora—the small, lucky plant still growing from their headwrap was a defiant link to that life. But when the wizards’ council declared any chimper with unrefined magic a threat, Hyoujirou chose to protect them rather than condemn them. That compassion cost them their name and their place, earning them a mask and exile. They fight now with a fury born not of hate, but of a nurturing spirit denied its proper purpose.