Enitan Kwaku
African Painted Dog

It is said that he was born and raised by the Mother of a large nomadic pack living somewhere in the Northern forests of Ntyne. The gypsy like pack move like the seasons, having many homes built and abandoned as the years go by; making them incredibly hard to track down and monitor. Unable to speak the local tongue, employing what most people may consider to be crude patois of the Trader's Tongue as well as their tendency not to respect land laws contribute to them being considered by many urban and suburban folk to be undesirable.

Enitan Kwaku grew up as a curious youngster. Adventuring was in his blood, just like his many brothers and sisters of the pack, and it took him through many strange and wonderful places such as the ruins of old cities, monoliths of ancient cults, towers erected to the Gods and tunnels to the underworld to name a few.

Growing up as a young Syruian was not without it's own challenges and dangers in Ntyne. The people for one were often not kind to his people, even though traders were often times quite the opposite. Every dog has a band of beads, made of stones and wood, the reason of which is generally unknown but it seems to be an object of high value to all of them. In their youth they are brought up in groups of two to four individuals who each rotate their roles within the smaller pack over several years, along the way supervision and mentorship is provided by all the adults in the larger pack. With the oral and spiritual knowledge of their past as well as their tradition of passing down trained skills such as in Animism, Hunting, Scouting, Trapping and Shamanism to the next generation, his partners in crime Bogdan and Nyarai managed to make it through their younger years with both life and limbs.

Still the greatest challenges to them were yet to come, heralded by a series of events. One day a flying ship crashed from the skies, breaking in halves as it impacted the forest floor, spilling it's contents from splintered bow to stern in a massive, firey wreck. Inside were the bodies of more beast-like Syrus, not unlike them; a Tiger Syrus, dressed more finely than the usual drab browns of the peasant folk, laid dead besides his crown and bloodied broken sword from a battle on board.

Soon thereafter a black panther calling himself Kousei showed up at their village asking for help and the pack found themselves thrusted into the middle of a war. A war between the Syruian friendly states to the North and South, Klenor and Vestell, as well as the human states to the North and East of Benebis and Syane.

It certainly didn't help that internally there are forces, conspiring from within Klenor, to take control of the state and the city. Following guidance given by their Mother, sent to represent their nomadic tribes at the table of a now divided North, the three follow the black panther into a world completely foreign to their own. All in the hopes of them forming a new pack and bringing peace and good will towards their own peoples.

The black panther walks a path of war, gold, coins, Kings and Country and all those that walk behind him all inevitably follow the same path. Sharpen the sword. Dull blades tend to make for short lives.

Artwork by  deadro