Full Name: Mabuz
Alias: Lynx
Age: 21
Height: 6’05”
Weight: 267lbs
Birthday: Summer
Race: Mixed: Gerudo and Sheikah
Occupation: Sellsword, Former Thief
Pronouns: He/Him
School of Magic: Demise
Beast Form: Siberian Lynx




Appearance:
A subtle movement in the dark, shadows shifting ever so slightly as a tall figure stalked towards his next target. Just as a silhouette there were a few distinctive things that could be noted, a long stride that led to steps that made no sound, a masculine build that even while crouched seemed to fill the space more than it would appear. A single red ruby pierced through the dark, scanning for its elusive objective.

For just a moment, the figure stepped into the moonlight, showing off his previous hidden visage. Warm dark skin stretching over an angular and handsome face, nicks and scars marring what skin wasn't hidden behind the black cloth of his mask. Thin straps crossed his face, belonging to the eye patch that was hidden behind a wall of wavy snowy hair, thick brows narrowed into a permanent glare. Rings and ties decorated his hair and pointed ears, yet aside from that the rest of his body was hidden behind monochromatic garb.

A long sleeve undershirt that had a mask built into its neck, hiding secrets that when inked into his skin. On top a dark grey vest with a deep V-neck down to his abs, a would be obscene sight were it not for his undershirt, thrown over everything was a pure white fur lined coat, its sleeves rolled up his forearms. Some could say that wearing such a stark white thing would be detrimental to doing his work, but he doesn't really care for your opinion. He wore baggy pants the same shade as his vest, pouches and pockets decorated most of its surface and it was effective in hiding his figure. The most flavor that could be found in this colorless outfit was his stud lined gloves, lightly plated in metal.

Then that red eye snapped on to you for just a second before the man vanished back into the darkness.


Personality:
A gloomy shadow on the wall, arms crossed and glare sharp on everything and everyone that tried to walk into his space. An unfriendly aura built to scare away everyone but the most obvious or obnoxious folks from speaking to him, unwanting and unneeding (that's a lie) of any extra noise in his turbulent life. It's safe to say that Mabuz is neutral at his best and an absolute ass at his worst, secretive about his past and habits, prone to bouts of aggression when he feels too pressed.

Whatever it took to keep his heart safe.

Beyond the unpleasant demeanor, he is not nearly as aggressive as he tries to make others believe. He doesn't wish unnecessary harm on anyone, and dislikes lying to others' faces. He always listens to what others say to him even if he's pretending not to and his memory about details is second to none! His intuition about the nature of those around him has been his number 1 reason for his continued survival, along with a healthy dose of common sense. His tact on the field is a trait that most universally admire him for, no matter how much of an ass he's being or how he feels about you, on the field he will have your back no matter what.

Now if you somehow managed to get through his barriers, then you'll be one of the few to see his real feelings. For one, he's very…parental, sounds strange to hear doesn't it? He watches out for his friends and tends to berate them whenever they do something foolish. He cooks and nags, words sharp and cutting but still full of fondness. He tries to keep others out of trouble and usually just gets pulled into it, but his good instincts usually get everyone out. Of course he also can't turn down a good challenge, competitive to a fault and easily fired up with the right (or wrong) words. He's still a terse bastard, but that's not because he dislikes anyone, stick around long enough and you'll see.


History:
Mabuz’s life has been a maelstrom of grievance from the very moment he was born, his mother a warrior who cast him aside moments after his birth and his father a cold, cruel man who hid him in darkness for years. His early years were spent in forced solitude, the only breathing creature that he ever saw was his father, who spoke in harsh whispers and flickering eyes, who barely stuck around enough to keep him fed, and when he was around he only muttered nothings that Mabuz could never fully understand. The things he saw with those young eyes during that time would always come to haunt him again and again, but his life after he was finally given to who he came to learn as his aunt was worse in a different way.

A small but efficient group of thieves, skilled and cruel in ways different from his father’s empty eyes. In order to survive he had to play his part, he had to learn how to fight, how to steal, how to survive in their violent world. He stole, he fought, he grew, in mere years this sickly child grew into an agile and cold young man who simply did what he needed to do to not be abandoned again. The whys and why nots was not something he could afford to dwell on, even if he knew that what he did, what they all were doing was wrong. What other way could he live? Why would he ever be accepted when he was what he was? When he knew what he knew?

How was a boy like him ever expected to live properly in a society? To know how to interact with others properly or care about social cues? He couldn’t, and that's why he rather not think about what ifs, it would do nothing for him.

Yet even when he tried so hard to hang on to his twisted little family, even that ended in blood and tears like everything else. One day they were properly cornered like rats and routed for their crimes, a fight he took part in until his body collapsed and he was pulled away by his injured aunt. This time, he was the only true survivor of that battle, left alone without his mates, resources, and his aunt, but the one thing that had found itself in his arms was a tiny wailing baby.

His cousin, for the child came from his dying aunt. His only living relative that he could actually touch, and infant that a teen like he had no fucking clue how to care for by himself. How could he when his parents were mockeries of the word? What example was he supposed to follow when all the adults in his life were such shitty people? He knew how to keep himself alive, he knew how to steal and fight, but how the hell does he raise a child?

That's a question that even now at the cusp of his adulthood that he couldn’t answer, with not one, but three young children to look out for! How he keeps stumbling upon these lost and broken children, he doesn’t know, and why he keeps taking the damn things he knows even less! Yet..when he looks at these little lives that have fallen into his arms, how in the world could he let them fend for themselves? His parents wouldn’t have cared if they live or die, if he lives or dies, he never had anyone who would have voluntarily saved him from this life, but he could do that for them.

To give them what he wasn’t, even if he can’t say he’s very good at it.

They were getting older, this little family of his, but with his way of life it was in danger of collapsing at any point, so he had to make a proper change, and fast if he wanted to keep this. Being a criminal with a bounty wouldn’t get food in their bellies, and if their lives are soured by his reputation… He would loath to be the reason they never got a chance to live a good life. He needed to clean up, for them.

He didn’t want to lose this family too.

Anything more would have to be discovered.