Gyun

Gyun

Tinkercat, Fuzzbucket, Little Furry Dude, That Thieving Moomba. Balamb's Mascot (Unofficial.)

Shumi (Middle to late aged, but by human standards, old. Shumi lifespans are never stated, and they may be effectively immortal though life stage changes. Possibly somewhat into triple digits.) / Moomba (12)

Male

Mascot Machinist

Moomba

Light

Archipelago

None, Shumi do not have traditional familial structures and while Moomba are a communal species, Gyun was not with his people when he underwent his evolution.

As a moomba, Gyun is affectionate, energetic, and nearly indomitable. Even when faced with harsh treatment, unfortunate situations, or outright abuse, moomba have a tendency to maintain a cheerfully optimistic spirit. Inherently curious and openly excitable and affectionate, Gyun has a tendency to like everyone he meets the moment he meets them, even if he shouldn't. Gyun is also a special case, slightly more lucid of his previous self and his surroundings than most of his kind, often acting with more social and intellectual aptitude than expected of his species, as though he were still something of a Shumi though these moods or phases tend to come and go, and never seem to completely change him. Occasionally, Gyun will jolt as if struck by lighting and in what seems to be a flash of brilliance or a eureka moment, suddenly come to understand things a moomba would have trouble being taught, or even create or fix something that he seemingly did not know how to work before at a prior time.

The creature is a bit of a glutton and in all honestly has generally poor impulse control all around. Gyun will eat any food placed in front of him regardless of how full he actually is and at times has some trouble respecting boundaries like personal space, though more often than not this manifests largely in the form of an aggressive kleptomania wherein the moomba will, like an animal compelled, steal parts from nearby machines or equipment and flee to use them for tinkering purposes, one would expect this to be a sign of guilt, but it turns out that he exhibits the skittish, high speed sprinting whenever he has something new to play with regardless of whether or not it is stolen or ripped out of something it should not have been. In addition, he is very easily swayed by affection, praise, and treats and could be coerced into making what some might consider poor choices in response to these stimuli outside of his lucid moments.

Gyun, like the Shumi, is greatly appreciative of the arts, both visual and aural. The moomba holds a special love for landscapes, for watercolors, sculptures, and especially upbeat energetic music like swing or jive. Gyun loves many arts, more than anything else by far, however, Gyun loves engineering the best. He enjoys nothing more than to get deep and involved with the construction, disassembly, or maintenance of some complex device, at odds with his species' general love of the natural world and his on again off again distaste of being dirty.

While generally inherently friendly, Gyun is neither weak nor pacifistic by nature. He is a somewhat capable combatant, using natural weapons and monstrous strength and agility to an effectiveness close to on par with man-made tools... Gyun is capable of defending himself in many situations, though his true strength is only unlocked when fighting for others. Moomba house a deep, feral, and aggressively powerful protective instinct for those important for them and when someone who has earned their devotion is endangered, and the right conditions are met, a moomba can summon incredible ferocity to defend a loved one, enough to overcome all but the most daunting of challenges. This aggressive instinct is unfortunately prone to tunnel vision and may drive a moomba to act regardless of the risk of self harm or the probability of success.

Shumi

Fourteen years ago Gyun, the moomba, was a member of the Shumi Tribe with an epithet he had long since chosen to ignore, Tinkerer, as it could not accurately describe his work, but that is not so important. Tinkerer is perhaps who he is now, but not who he was, so let’s go further back, not years, much further. Decades ago, as a young shumi, Gyun was not quite like the other, peaceful members of his race. From an early age he was rambunctious, well, for a shumi, at least. Suited less toward quiet contemplation and more toward energetic exploration, even as a child he was filled with a passion rivaling that of his tribe's elder artisans, yet had little to no direction and so this passion bled to numerous aspects of his life and made him prone to energetic body language, a habit that even growing up he never broke and left his elders with a distaste for him due to his constant, expressive usage of his hands. Regardless, he was ever pleasant, and greeted visitors, such few as there were, with great vigor.

Gyun loved meeting visitors more than anything, for they always brought new experiences, new art, new music, and it was through them that learned of arts that were not practiced in Shumi Village, those of the martial variety, which he took up as meditative exercise and perhaps to be ready, for there was growing word of a warlike nation to the west gaining power. He did this to the further chagrin of his people. Suffice it to say that well before he had reached adulthood he was already something of a black sheep of the tribe, and his distance from his kind only grew as he began to adopt many hobbies, not just choose one art to devote himself to, a lifestyle his people found confusing, lazy and distasteful; considering it not only a lack of respect for their ways but also of his own hands and skills. By not pushing himself to master his art, they felt he was wasting his potential and not growing as a person.

But one day, as a young man, shortly out of childhood, Gyun found a true passion. Machinistry. He became enthralled enthralled with engineering, mechanical, electrical, magical. Expanding his consciousness and knowledge in these areas became his driving forces, and even as a young adult was quickly learning to create simple devices to automate tasks for him and free himself up time to continue study, research and development, rather than enjoying the meditative nature of deliberate action in his everyday life. This fascination only progressed in his late formative years, and he began researching outside cultures and their technology, he became so enthralled with the desire to design, build, and express his creativity through artistry that he chose to risk complete ostracization. He began to stretch the peaceful rules of his village, and no longer restricted his studies, all of these sciences were fair game, even weapons and combat magic.

It was hands up the worst kept secret in the village, staying up at all hours of the night, pouring through books, building various devices to store magic that all inevitably failed spectacularly in a dangerously elemental fashion for a very long time until he found something at least somewhat stable. Those around him grew discontent with the noise that sprung from his workshop at all hours of the night, and even the most cursory of investigation revealed his conduct, so engrossed in his work he never noticed the other shumi knew how deeply he was ignoring their traditional ways.

At wit's end, the other shumi hatched a plan to get him out of their village and off into the world in the hopes that, perhaps, broader experiences, rather than broader hobbies, would humbled him and he would someday return a quiet and well rounded adult. the shumi conspired, and, together, they came up with a list of curiosities they felt would pique his interest enough to make him leave the village, and of the list, some were, and so, swayed to leave their village, Gyun packed a bag and set off, up out of their village, into the lands beyond, and began a long journey. A journey filled with new experiences, far travels, and terrible monsters.

The first was word of a magical cookpot which had been known to vanish upon attempted use, and thereafter, nearby monsters often would as well. Determined to understand the nature of the magic in such an item, the young shumi set out with all due determination... but after months of searching, found no trace of such an item ever having existed in the first place, nor had he heard of anyone who had seen it directly, nor anyone who would admit to ever having used it, and he was forced to conclude that the item was in fact a myth or that he would never see it. He learned no-one can have everything. Deeply disappointed, he headed for the coast and chartered a small ship for travel to his next destination.

Gyun had heard tell of an island, in the far reaches of the world, where the confluences of the earth gave birth to the most rare and powerful of magic, abundant throughout that land. He came to find out that it was true! even on the shore he felt the immense depths of the magic coalescing on the land, and began an expedition inland to collect as many samples as he could. It was not a day inward that to his great chagrin the island contained the greatest beasts as well. Bodyguards fell left and right, swiftly, easily, to a great and truly monstrous beast of six eyes and six legs. Gyun was overconfident, he used the treasure he had brought from his village, their sacred magic, Ultima. The monster fell... but it got back up. He fled with his men, and those that fell, he revived with a potent magic he found on the island, himself walking away with nothing but his wounds and his failings. He learned the folly of his hubris. He should have returned home then, but his curiosity and desire for adventure was too strong.

The third on his list was a lost civilization.. once the most advanced in the world. The trip was without incident, the ruins of Centra were a masterpiece of construction, still holding after... well, there was some debate, it was either decades or centuries of abandonment and wear. The monsters on the way too, were something he and his group could handle, and those in the dungeon were adorable like, little olive dolphins... until they weren't. Fleeing yet again, Gyun learned that not everything is as it seems, and care must be taken even when a task seems easy and simple.

The last on his list was a city, far to the southeast, part of one of two great nations, remnants that the Centra left behind, and made one last trip to find this nation and its capital... and was not disappointed. The journey was hard, arduous, perilous. Monsters grew stronger and more numerous along the way, the terrain and the weather were unforgiving, the food had run out, and long since he had been traveling alone, out of money, and so out of companions. He almost died many times, but he persevered, as turning back would be just as challenging. He made it, Esthar City, a place of wonderful science and magic, where the greatest minds that humanity had to offer gathered together and researched their chosen fields. He decided to stay. He had learned that sometimes things are very hard, they may even seem impossible, but through perseverance, you can overcome challenges you though out of your reach, and achieve things all the sweeter because of it.

For many years, for decades, Gyun stayed on in Esthar City, here his passion and fervor were appreciated, and he found himself, finally, at home, advancing his arts, collaborating with others, something he grew to love. He pushed, and he pushed, and he pushed, keeping up with the brightest minds in all of the nation of Esthar, finally he was at peace, happy with his life, he would not return home. Then it all went wrong. Adel came to power, and rather than betterment his talents were put to more sinister uses... For years that she was in power, life in Esthar became untenable. She was powerful and her cruelty knew no bounds, none could stop her, but, eventually he found an opportunity and he took it, leaving his life and friends behind, he escaped, and headed back to Shumi Village. He learned that all things, good and bad, must come to an end, but he was not regretful, he had learned to appreciate his experiences, and the end of a good thing, is not a bad thing, for those memories are there, always.

When he returned home, shock greeted him, for the village had grown, his home now belonging to another, he had to start all over, with no familiar comforts to avail him. Moreover in his absence technology had become abundant, they were advanced before but not to this level. Perhaps while he was gone, they too, had learned. So it was that he began to build a life for himself once more, and his thoughts drifted wistfully to the last item on his list, great structures left by the Centra, cities that could move. One day, he wanted to see them all, but for a time, he was content to settle in, build a new home, and quietly, methodically advance his art, wistfully recreating schematics of magical batteries and support suits, transportation systems, even concepts for flying travel, trying to rediscover the methodology and reasoning behind the sciences he had not directly studied. One day, some years later, communication with the outside world ceased. No-one knew why, but transmissions simply... stopped.

This became Gyun's new obsession, and he worked, toiled and slaved trying to find a cause for what could be causing this interference and some way to get around it, but as time wore on, he realized... his time was almost up. He could feel the changes to the next cycle of life coming... he had to get out there, he had to see, there was only one place he could thing of better equipped to solve the problem than he. He resolved to back to Esthar, and so he did, he packed up his bags, and left. This time, the trip was easy, over the years the monster population and strength had dwindled, nothing stood between him and his goal... Nothing save the fact that Esthar City was gone. He could find no trace of it, not a crumb, not a scrap, not a crater. Here, on the barrenm salty shores of a great lake that used to be, he began to enter the next stage of his life.

Panic set in. He had learned to be a Shumi, he had learned to be patient and pure. He had learned to live without regret. He had learned to live quietly, to live content, to share his work and his life with others. He knew that he would become a moomba. He did not want to go. He did NOT want to go! The world was in the middle of a strange crisis and the only place that could solve it was just... gone. He could not, would not give up! There was more work to be done, he would continue it, he would not lose his mind, his self, his tools! He would not lose his hands... these hands, taught to help the world... but it was his time, and nothing stopped it. He entered his coccoon, and when he emerged, he was a moomba, shumi no more.

Moomba

As a moomba, his life had changed, his world had changed, his language, his memories, gone... reduced blurry, guiding sensations in the back of his mind. Unclear or different. It was all moomba now, a new language, new needs, new emotions and instincts. He knew not who he was, or where he was, or how long it had been. His old name was nonsense now, and there were none of his kind to guide him. There were no Shumi to look after him. The were no people. There was no life. It was desolate. He knew simply that he was alone, and so it was that alone on the salty shore that, for the first time, a moomba cried not for someone else, only for himself... but Moomba are indomitable. Life, and self, much like sadness, are transient, and shortly thereafter, he picked himself up, and started walking west, away from the wastes, sadly for Gyun, things were about to get much worse.

He traveled westward. He had come from the west, hadn't he? What was 'west'. The direction away from the lake, or the direction toward the sea? He remembered the sea, beautiful. He remembered boats, but he didn't know their names anymore, he knew them by concept, a thing to take you across the water, water. Water, a thing that was wet, but not really... only when moving, an idea, a concept, novel and new, a way he'd never thought about it before. Monsters largely ignored him in his new state, and at a brisk pace, and arrived largely unaccosted, he had made it to the sea... but what now? There was nothing here. He walked, followed the shore, and as he did he saw a ship, a great metal boat. Not big, to be sure, but powerful, and having no better ideas, he clambered aboard. This was his first mistake as a moomba, and his most egregious, almost all of his problems stem from this one ill-advised decision.

The ship, was Galbadian, populated by Galbadians, and he was a moomba, it was easy enough to get his trust, a treat here, a pat there, until they were well out at sea... then bound, caged, ready to be shift off for training as a beast of burden, a slave common in Galbadia, often owned by the government, or the wealthy. The breaking process for moomba is presumed to be unpleasant. They are inherently free spirits and instilling in them unflinching obedience is a long and arduous process, made worse for him by the fact that, as Gyun learned, Moomba can come to understand the words spoken by people through training and repetition. Gyun learned that opinions of him and his kind were not high, the emotional weight wore on him all the more. The training process took months, in poor conditions, and is an experience the feline should like very much to forget, but could not and cannot. Through the whole time he knew it would get better, and kept his spirit, greeting even those breaking him down with a smile. They had their own pain, and he could see it even if they didn't want to share. When his training was was finally complete, things did not get better, they stayed bad, for a long time.

The next several years saw him being auctioned of, sold from master to master, traded like a bartering chip, sometimes explicitly wagered. Some masters were better than others, some were worse. None were good. All gave him tasks that were difficult, some that were impossible. Failure always meant punishment, while success rarely meant praise. The last, and, arguably best place he came to stay in this country was the home of a high ranking military general and his son. the official who owned him was just like the rest, Gyun was manservant and maidservant, doing the job of several manor staff with none of the cost. He was often made to dress up for company, something which he generally despised because it was usually a source of great derision to have such a sharply dressed animal in the home, and for the entirety of his tenure there he was collared like a house pet with tags and titling to differentiate him from others of his kind, who were often brought over, but cruelest of all, not allowed to play together.

Gyun was worked very hard, but there was a light for him. The general's son, a young man, bonded with him almost immediately, and was the only Galbadian he had met since boarding the ship who showed him true compassion. The two became fast friends, and the man's son set about teaching Gyun to speak, not just understand. It was a slow and difficult process, as his brain was ill-equipped to understand the words and his mouth ill-equipped to make them, but over time, he learned to speak short, simple words and phrases, memorizing the contexts to do so. Gyun never quite grew versed enough in language once more to listen to and understand a conversation. The man's son became a great source of joy in his heart but while their friendship was a shining light for him, it was also a double edged sword. Gyun became a form of whipping boy. Seeing their relationship, his father took to punishing Gyun whenever his son failed to behave or live up to expectations, the benefit of teaching his son a lesson without the drawbacks of leaving his son tired or distracted from his studies and training. Despite this, Gyun's loyalty to the boy never wavered, looking after him with joy and affection, tending his injuries and emotional needs as he grew, as Galbadia can be a harsh place and bring even a young man to tears. It worked as well as expected, and soon the man's son was grown, and off into service just like his father before him, leaving just the moomba, and the general.

This time Gyun remembers as one of the loneliest in his life, the man's son, constantly on leave, constantly stationed elsewhere, was never around to make his days brighter. The son would write, and the father would read it, but never aloud, Gyun only knew the correspondence by scent, unable to read himself... Over time, the father grew closer to him in the absence of his son, and punishment nearly ceased, and when he was punished, it was of less severity than in the past. Perhaps, for the man, Gyun was a piece of the son, whom he had grown so proud of, and over time the man even began to pet him like he would his dogs, in a disinterested and vaguely approving manner. Shortly after it seemed like their relationship would solidify into something pleasant, things changed, they went horribly wrong, the man was stricken with a great, deep, and terrible sadness that cut him to the bone, and this sadness turned to anger, and they both turned to Gyun. The letters, had stopped, the creature did not understand.

The moomba's life became untenable after that, the man most unforgiving, any failing, real or imagined was met with aggressive retribution, harsh, restrictive punishments. Gyun soon came to live outside overnight, which, while he did not hate, being at home in nature, or a civilized facsimile of it, he often found too cold and wet for his liking, and was often tired and sometimes sick, but expected to work anyway. It all came to a head when Gyun, who had been cleaning the son's room, was laying upon his bed to enjoy the faint aroma of an old friend. Lost in thought and half asleep, he had not noticed the father had arrived home early. Seeing the moomba behaving in such fashion in this place, was the last. The man's sadness turned to darkness, and the next thing Gyun experienced was a blow to the head, and then nothing. When he came to, they were somewhere he had never been before. His collar as gone, and man staring at him. He wanted to go home, he didn't want to be here, he could smell the monsters, feel the danger.

The man would not allowed it, aggression mounted, yelling, but Gyun would not yield, he felt the darkness strangling the man's heart and his desire to help overpowered all else, but it was not to be. Two flashes of steel, the man's saber drawn, and Gyun felt fire, not magic, but a burning pain in his chest and face that he was familiar with from a life long ago, from places he can't clearly remember. Panic set in, he turned and ran, half-blinded and bleeding, he made his escape and did not look back, fleeing with a stream into the undergrowth, and was not followed... His wounds were shallow, not fatal, and his eye, while useless at the moment, was intact, he would see from it again. Washing and licking his wounds, Gyun sat, and thought, and waited, trying to heal, and it was during this time that the very worst experience of his life occurred. Time Compression had begun.

Shortly, his pain became unbearable, as though it was all happening at once, and it grew, and grew, pain from the past, and new pain along with it, but so did warmth and comfort, sadness and joy. Soon he became lucid... he was Moomba but also Shumi, he remembered everything, he saw not only his past but also his future, collapsing in on his present. The agony of becoming a singularity is indescribable, physically, emotionally, mentally. A metaphysical experience not to be wished on anyone. He felt all his thoughts, emotions, and selves become one, only to suddenly begin losing them as they were absorbed into time. Losing his body, his mind, and his heart. There has never been a greater helplessness, a keener fear, or a deeper despair. There was darkness, a great, and terrible darkness that took the place of everything he ever was, but just as quickly as it had come, it began to unravel, and what was nothing, began to be Gyun again. Shaken to his core, flashes of memory, things that he had never seen and was never going to see haunted him, something dangerous and dark, that grows outside the world and within it, something he had fought, or had been fought for him.

He wanted to find someone, warn anyone, but as quickly as he'd had the realization, it began to fade... and he realized, that as the world began to return to normal, so too did he. He did not want to forget, and in desperation he clung to himself as time and space and self stretched back to its normal normal shape, all things being exactly when and what they are in a moment. He was a moomba once more, injured and alone, but it was different. He did not remember his future, and even if he had, it had now changed. He did remember his past, or something like it, all the thoughts and feelings, his mind and heart, everything trapped behind the fuzzy, foggy walls of his form for the past many years were clearer now. He was lucid once more. Gyun now knew he was a moomba, he knew what a moomba is and what it used to be. He knew words, he knew tools, he remembered how he got here... but he soon found that though he could tap into this, it did not agree with his new form very well.

As Gyun traveled east, back toward his home, he found that his sense of self ebbed and flowed. Sometimes there was more Shumi, sometimes there was more moomba, but there was always moomba and there was often little shumi. By the time he reached the coast and came across a city, he had become more or less stable. Capable of something close to complex thought, he knew being near these humans could be dangerous, and so he listened, and waited, living in the alleys of a town called Dollet, until he heard of a place that had fought against his oppressors... intrigued, Gyun made his way to the docks and let's not mince words, stole a boat. He did it without remorse, and took it east. He was not good at navigating, nor had he ever piloted a boat before, and progress was slow, terrible, and, eventually, the engine ran out of fuel. He had neglected to bring supplies, and by the time the boat arrived at the shores of a landmass he found himself lacking the strength to walk and planted himself facedown in the dirt, regretting every decision he had ever made.

It was then that he was found by a kind woman, and she took him to her port city, the only city on their island, Balamb Town. Serendipitously, he had washed ashore at the very place he had wanted to be! only to find out that he had misunderstood. This was was not the people he was seeking. A group called the Garden was, whom he learned were traveling, and were no longer here. Still, the country of Balamb proved to be an excellent home for him, for a time. He grew close to the people of Balamb Town, he was their moomba, and they were his people. He was looked after well, and he had more than healed by the time a great rushing noise whipped the sky into a frenzy. What he saw made his jaw drop. It was not just a group that was traveling, it was a city, floating on a great wash of air, sliding over the horizon and settling into the land. He knew, more than anything, he wanted to be there, to see it. He set off that very day, determined.

Upon his arrival, he was turned away at the gates, but he would not waver. He tried again, and again, and again, each day trying to get in during the morning, and returning to Balamb Town in the afternoon to arrive in the evening and sleep, to awaken at dawn and walk back again.. this cycle repeated for weeks, until, finally, perhaps the perkiest girl he had ever seen in his life walked by, and demanded he be let in... and so the gates were open to him, and upon entering, he gave a simple "Thangyu." and that was all it took for him to cement his place at the Garden, the girl, who he later discovered to be named Selphie, visiting from her home Garden in the process of being rebuilt, found him to be interminably adorable, something he discovered quickly was not exclusive to him but rather a general feeling toward all of his kind, who he learned they were familiar with. Gyun did his best to ingratiate himself into the garden and be there for anyone who needed it, but his curiosity and playfulness soon got the better of him and he traveled to places he should not be.

The first, the training room, resulted in him being terribly poisoned as the monsters were trained to attack on sight... This happened many times, as he insisted on going back, watching the SeeD and candidates train, learning from them, and his existence became a terrible thorn in the side of Dr. Kadowaki, who insisted that he stop entering places full of monsters without an escort or a weapon, and he was eventually banned access to the room entirely. With little else to do, the moomba instead focused on other pursuits, and it was here that his incorrigible nature manifested. Many things went missing, most of which would not be missed, but Gyun did occasionally choose to to take parts from the building's environmental cooling systems, or the vehicles and its garage, and while, as a moomba his behavior was somewhat tolerated and in some cases considered amusing, it did not win him favors from the staff.

Over time, Gyun began to construct what appeared to be a small metal frame, more of a backpack than anything else, rekindling a long forgotten love of engineering, and during this time, he began to live largely in the underbelly of the garden, so that he could work in relative secret, and constructed himself a frame... A skeleton, using parts scrounged, stolen and gifted... a weapon. He wanted to be like these humans he idolized, he want to train to protect people, and so, he did. He returned to the training area, and displayed his creation. A simple, mechanical frame, contoured and shaped to his form, springloaded, tensioned to his not inconsiderable strength. An exoskeleton equipped with claws and plating, sturdy metal, and well articulated joints, a device to multiply his own forces. With this, they finally relented and allowed him to actually train, and, over time, he became somewhat proficient in melee combat with small monsters, yearning for his bygone years of powerful magic.

In addition, either due to his nature as a shumi or moomba putting him more in touch with the world than humans, or perhaps simply an accident of fate regarding his experiences during time compression, he found himself with a capacity for Draw Magic without the need to do something that the humans called "Junctioning." Unlike monsters or sorcerors, he could not cast magic at will, and his skill compared to his peers left much to be desired, but he was content. He didn't feel the need to be on the front lines, he only wanted to be able to support the people that were. Unfortunately for him, the front lines came to him when the heartless, drawn to a clarion call, the terrible despair caused by time compression, found their world and arrived in droves. The first wave in Balamb was like a flood, it was an impossible number, and defending both the garden and the city seemed impossible, but right as it seemed like it was the end, like they were overwhelmed... the SeeD summoned forth incredible reserves, and so did Gyun, beating back the darkness from their home and celebrating their victory. Too soon.

The rest of the world was not so lucky, and while the other gardens put up a valiant effort, the heartless had mobilized too quickly and numerously for those who knew how to truly fight them to mount a defense, and they easily found their goal, the world's heart. Archipelago fell, the world crumbled, consumed by darkness, they tried to save who they could... but, as far as Gyun knows, they didn't save anyone. Despite his best efforts, he was unable to escape the destruction of his world, despite his strong and almost pure light, eventually he fell with with his world, and was lost, adrift in darkness, sleeping apart form his fallen world, his light keeping him from falling. Until one day, the world was back, and he simply wasn't asleep anymore, he could find his way home, and in time, he returned. But in that time, the friends who he had made, had vanished... all gone, leaving Gyun alone, trying to make sense of the world, which was now plagued by the heartless once more.

Gyun is a moomba, an alternately bipedal and quadrupedal creature from the world of Archipelago that greatly resembles what many people of many worlds would rightly recognize as a lion. Unlike lions, however, Moomba remain generally small, barely ever breaching four feet in height at maximum verticality. Gyun is no exception, and stands just shy of four feet tall. His fur, as one would would expect a lion-like creature to have, is thick and what can only be discribed as 'lush' and 'luxurious'. A brilliant golden orange, the color and quality of his pelt bears qualities that many a hunter would salivate over. Like all moomba, Gyun is possessed of a mighty, lush mane that flows in a slick and spiky manner above and behind his head, slowly gradiating from their traditional orange to an especially deep crimson, more deeply and visibly red than many of his species.

Moomba possess long and numerous whiskers, keen, glistening eyes and an angular, sloping muzzle seemingly blending smoothly into their forehead which, combined with their mane give their head a wedgelike profile. The head sits atop a powerful, firm, yet lanky, flexible and agile body that looks equally comfortable on two legs as four, which is well and good as this is the case. The torso is possessed of broad shoulders and an equally large chest often sporting prodigious amounts of excess bushy fur, but a narrow waist, which is attached to significant hips that need room for the large, powerful legs to maintain their full range of motion and be used effectively for climbing, leaping, and running. A moomba's arms are more narrow and less muscled than their legs, but are quite strong and are not to be underestimated. All four limbs end in paws that seem to be a bit too big for their body, and are tipped in large potently powerful claws, and a moomba's paws, while generally clumsy, have thumbs and are capable of fine manipulation as long as something is large enough to hold. Moomba also have a tail, which, like that of a lion, ends in a tuft, though on a moomba this tuft retains the slicked back, spikey shape of their main and the same crimson color.

Gyun has a few notable differences from the average moomba one might run across, chiefly among these being faint scarring across the left eye from forehead to nose that leaves him with some trouble opening it all the way, and slightly mussed fur across the chest and along his right side, from a similarly apparent injury, a tail that is slightly longer and thicker than those of his contemporaries, and notably, paws that seem almost more like hands than paws, with longer digits that are capable of more dexterous activity.

"Thangyu..."

Soft, gentle purring in response to praise.

Discordant clanging and banging, the sound of small metal pieces clattering across a smooth floor, usually followed by the sound of soft, padded footfalls scampering, the source location of which is unascertainable but almost certainly means that something, somewhere, is soon to require replacement parts.

Tick, tick, tick. The gentle rhythmic metronome of the clock's mechanics a lulling, almost fanciful melody for one particular moomba, who sits, legs outstretched, in the sitting area of a sizable manor with an old almost royally elegant feeling. It is a three story, sprawling structure of stone floors, rich dark hardwood paneling framing pale walls, and windows, which themselves are huge and wide, adorned with rich, dark velvet curtains strung aside with golden tiebacks, exposing the darkness outside, and the occasional flash of light displaying the world outside. A peaceful, wooded landscape with a well kempt lawn lined with tall shrubbery and flower gardens, stone walkways winding through the front and side yards that people may enjoy the property in all its glory. Off in the distance are numerous, speckled glints of light, fuzzy, blinking in an out as light is interrupted and scattered by the rain. It is a place known as Deling, a city that Gyun has come to know intimately in his time here, and one that he has also come to greatly dislike.

The moomba is swaying side to side in collusion with the clock's meter, passing the time, easily amused enjoying the simple pleasures of life. One of these pleasures, the soft, hushed and steady pitter-patter of the gently falling rain splattering against the ground outside, graces his ears, making him shiver. The sound has always pleased him, for it is as if the world is saying how deeply it cares for its children, how their sadness is shared, and how it will always be there for them, to wash away the pain and nurture new life. His name, though he does not remember why it is so, is Gyun, and he watches the clock intently not just because it is a way to pass the time, but because he waits for the hands to reach a particular position that he knows will require precise and immediate action, lest there be dire consequences. Everything is on the line and he cannot afford to make a mistake.

The clock ticks into position, it is half six, and the moomba springs to his feet with grace unexpected of a creature with such massive paws, and rushes into the kitchen, claws clicking furiously across a marbled floor, beginning a task with which he is by now more than intimately acquainted... With a flourish, one paw scoops into a sack and withdraws a large heap of coffee beans from a sack, slowly pouring them into a pan on a stove, which he lights by striking a nearby match upon the rough surface of a nearby whetstone. As the pan heats, he collects a kettle and fills it with water, setting it upon the stove as well to warm. The moomba takes his time with the pan, gently, thoroughly searing the beans, rocking the pan back and forth listening as the beans yellow and brown, the quiet crackling as they slide and shrink, reducing from a sour, grassy flavor to a rich, dark brown, with a peak sweetness and body that he knows is necessary, and knows by scent alone. Swiftly, the beans are deposited in hand grinder and working the crank until they have become a fine and collective powder, he prepares the coffee and transfers the heat into the device to keep them from cooking too much further, while also giving the grains themselves a gentle toasting. This also results in him slightly burning his sizable paws, for the grinder is metal. Perfect coffee, freshly roasted, the way the master likes, collects upon a small plate below, and is unceremoniously dumped into the near boiling pot to brew. It has been ten minutes, twenty to go.

Gyun does not slow, not missing a step, he approaches the pantry and acquires a log of cured meat of and a sleeve of sweet biscuits, which he manages to open with some effort... It is difficult, his paws and claws are not designed for this job, and some nights, like tonight, he makes a mistake, and one of the sweets cracks, no time to dwell on it, he takes it in stride, and begins arranging them in a wide half circle on a platter, soon after he takes to slicing the meat. Gyun, even after years, is not used to wielding a knife, it feels clumsy and dangerous in his paws, but with persistent sawing he manages to shave the log down into slices of varying thickness and quality, though it takes much time. It will never be perfect, but it is the best he can do and the master of the house has come to accept it, these he lays out upon the opposite side of the tray, and fetches a soft cheese from the icebox to accompany it, placing it at the apex of inner curve. The platter he carries quickly, carefully into the sitting room and sets upon the table, returning to the kitchen, only to hear a sound that breaks him into sheer panic. A door closing in the drive outside the home.

Gyun picks up his speed and gathers the sugar bowl from the pantry, sprinting to the sitting room and dropping it upon the tray, then floofs violently at a sudden realization, tail almost vibrating behind him. He sprints his way back to the kitchen, grabbing a spoon from a drawer, which he had forgotten, and half hops, half sidles his way back over to the ice box from which he grabs a small pitcher of cream, dashing back out to the sitting area, spilling a few drops on the floor, something he has only seconds to correct. He begins to do so, before he stops himself, places the pitcher on the platter, cocks the lid on the sugar bowl aside so that it rests against the outer side of the container, and carefully places the spoon under two arguably tiny sugar cubes, before flinging himself to the floor like a man possessed, take a quick lick of the spilled cream from the floor despite the heavy taste of soap from the floor's earlier cleaning, and skittering on all fours back to the kitchen to grab two mugs just as the sound of a key entering and turning a lock meets his ears. The door opens. It is five minutes early, but he is still late.

As the sound of two adult male voices happily discussing something which he neither understands nor cares about enters the home, and the lamplight in the sitting room grows to reasonable levels, his ears droop. He slowly, carefully pours the coffee into each cup to prevent the grains from entering. The soft, trickling sound is something else that is always pleasing to him, as the intonation rises from a low to high pitch and the scent of sweet, slightly bitter but rich flavor wafts into the air. He has never had any, but he likes to sniff the lazily rising steam, and so he does, taking one cup in each paw, carefully, sheepishly carrying them to the sitting room where the master and his guest are sitting in in their lounge chairs. The master looks disappointed and impatient, but the guest is delighted. “Your pet is so helpful general... perhaps I should purchase one of my own when funds allow.” the master looks disappointed as Gyun hands him and the guest each their cup, and surveys the spread before him.

“Don't be so easy on it, it was late, it's terrible with the meat, and it's broken a biscuit...” the general, his master, takes a sip of the coffee. “The coffee is not quite as good as usual, but it is the most passable thing the creature does, I often look forward to it, though it appears we have only been given one spoon for two cups.” the general frowns, and tweaks the moomba's ear unpleasantly. Gyun makes a faint, pitiful noise and eyes the master intently as the man points to the spoon, then to each cup, before releasing. Gyun's paws clasp over his muzzle, and he rushes off to gather another, carefully depositing it in the bowl as well, before taking a seat on the floor between the two settling his haunches into the cold stone floor..

The guest speaks. “Haha, it is no matter, the little fellow is clearly finely obedient... a cracked cookie is of no concern, he may have it.” the guest takes the biscuit, gives it to Gyun, and ruffles the mane between his ears with a smile, fingertips dancing in a way that feels electric to the creature. “Good little servant, you are.” Gyun's heart skips a beat, eagerly soaking in the affection, and his mouth opens slightly, to give a soft awkward “Thangyu...” before eating the cookie. The guest is taken aback. “Good gracious, they can speak!” but the general is quick to correct him. “No no, it doesn't speak, but my son taught it to use certain words, you see... It's not really all that smart...” the conversation drones on, and as it does the maste looks distastefully upon the moomba as a lesser creature. In truth, Gyun did not understand half of what the two were saying, nor did he care, letting the conversation fade into the background like the nonsense it is. Were it a shumi or another moomba, they could hold conversation just fine. Gyun settles into thought once more, he does not know why his life turned out this way. He does not know that his name means... He does not know what he is. Of the things he does know is who he is. He is a creature who serves the master of this house, and for now, that's all he will be.

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