Tzazzgar, a brown-feathered Tengu, born into the world of at it's greatest time of conflict, where the lands were becoming quickly disputed, and war was common-place.
His mother passed away from a debilitating disease when he was only still a hatchling, his father, a skilled blacksmith, took on the forge and the duty of keeping Tzazzgar on track.

He began rigorous school work, quickly getting a grasp on foreign languages, excelling in anatomy and blade technique. When he turned 14, he left the school to his own accord to become a man, as all of his village does when they come of age.
As Tzazzgar went through the trials, he began his training as a rogue, skipping past most standard weapon training, and focusing heavily on exotic weaponry.

He was two years into his training when he began to hear voices. Haunting voices, quiet when he concentrated, but not enough to cause a break in his training. A year passed, and the voices continued to softly pick at his ears, the chilling death creeping close to his skin, as if an unknown presence was haunting him. It soon began to distract him from his training, his instructors suggested he attempt to meditate his problems away.

He took the time out of one night to sit around a candle circle, the ambient warmth sticking lightly to his feathers, enough to counteract the creepy sensation of something crawling over his arms and neck. He stared at the candles to the front of him, the flame seeming to nudge lightly to the left and right. He closed his eyes, and cleared his mind.

He saw around him, what appeared to be ghostly figures. They were blurry, indistinguishable, but there were many of them. He tried to set his sight onto one of them approaching. He stuck his hand out quickly, as if trying to catch the apparition, when he felt a large jet of flame smack his stomach, singing his feathers lightly. When he opened his eyes, the candles were out, a few of them knocked over. He looked at his hands, heat appeared to be blistering off of his finger tips.

After talking with his village elder, he was astonished to hear his story. Oracles were rare, far and few between, but many had become great advisers for kings past. Tzazzgar understood his calling and removed himself from schooling, taking up meditation and social work, becoming quite charismatic with groups of people, and gaining more of a focus on his abilities.

At the age of 17, his father was called to battle, leaving Tzazzgar to the forge while his father was gone. Six months later, he received a notice that his father had died valiantly in battle. He mourned for many days, until after one meditation session, he felt at ease, as if a comforting presence had joined him, it was warm and sharp, unlike the other ghosts who seemed blunt and distant. Resolved with his issues, he continued the harsh path of public relations.

When he turned 19, the village elder gave him permission to leave the village in search of a prophecy, and so began the hard road that would eventually lead him to become something much greater!

Character is of course, ©Karagera
Art, however is ©TooieBird (Original can be found here:http://www.furaffinity.net/view/12096560)