<strong>Name</strong>: Keimun Reigumon<br/><em>{<span class="bbc_u">kay</span> ' moon   <span class="bbc_u">ray</span> ' goo ' mohn}</em><br/><br/><strong>Type</strong>: Paramnaran<br/><br/><strong>Gender</strong>: Male<br/><br/><strong>Age</strong>: 17 taokuneii; 3 sukaoii<br/><br/><strong>Height</strong>: 210 cm (about 5' 10")<br/><br/><strong>Body</strong>: slender, but athletic and toned; has remained active despite his life in the Monaznar<br/><br/><strong>Aesthetics</strong>: deep brown almost black hair, hazel eyes with subtle flecks of silver tones, pale complexion brought on by years spent indoors, in clothing he prefers earth tones, greys,  and blacks, likes to blend in with his surroundings<br/><br/><strong>Clan</strong>: D'aoima Keimun<br/><br/><strong>Role</strong>: Idaeo'an<br/><br/><strong>Oathbound to</strong>: no one currently<br/><br/><br/><hr/><br/><div class="floatright">(http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Kbg4dLEcAXw/TPXqR_aX3YI/AAAAAAAAApE/zM0WjgMMN7E/s1600/technomancer_by_Urbo.jpg)</div><strong><span class="bbc_u">History</span></strong><br/><br/><em>You're special</em>.<br/><br/>That's what they always told him; he knew, now, that it was a lie, crafted to shape him into something he knew that he was<em>not</em>.  He still remembers the first time he heard that, though.  He was just five taokuneii old, and scared out of his wits; his otaomae had carried him, over the threshold, and into the stark refectory.  He had his head buried against his otaomae's bosom, sobbing softly because he knew what his parents were doing.  He didn't want to go; it wasn't fair!  Yet, he couldn't help peeking out at their surroundings.  To call the refectory spartan would be an understatement, for it was a perfect cube of smooth, mold-gray stone, lit only by ensconced candles.  The light cast from the flickering flames skittered over the walls surface.  The resident Idaeo'ani sat upon the floor with wooden bowls cupped in their hands; they slowly sipped on the nutritious but completely flavorless gruel contained therein.  The ascetic devouts of the  Onumu Saokeima Taesu considered eating a distraction and anything that heightened the experience was anathema to their beliefs.<br/><br/>His otaomae stroked his head gently, whispering in his ear as she tried, so hard, to sound reassuring.  "<em>Oh, Reigumon, it will be for the better.  They'll give you a stronger, happier life here; so much more than we could ever give you.</em>"  At her words, he summoned enough courage to look over at his otaosan; that face, though... it was a mask of grim determination.  As far as his otaosan was concerned, Reigumon was already gone.<br/><br/>Before the three could intrude into the Monaznar refectory much further, however, a figure - clad in a shapeless, light-brown ikei asao - slowly stood after setting his bowl aside to finish later.  He approached the family, his features completely obscured by an oversized hood.  The idea of it struck a certain sense of terror into Reigumon's young heart.  Without a word, the elder Idaeo'an held out a pair of gnarled, age-spotted hands.<br/><br/>His otaomae hesitated, fighting the urge to turn and run; to not give up her precious otaodar at any cost.  A sort of panic flooded her brain, but kept her rooted where she stood.  A severe glance of disapproval from Reigumon's otaosan restored some of her senses, however; with shaking hands, she peeled her otaodar away from her bosom.  She whispered softly in his ear, "<em>You're special, my darling.  They know it; someday... you'll understand.</em>"<br/><br/>Reigumon started to cry, deep sobs wracking his small frame as he felt those too-cold hands slide their bony digits around his midsection.  That's when he felt it for the first time; energy sliding out of his body, and into the hands of the Idaeo'an.  He valiantly tried to fight the creeping lethargy - for he was terrified of the thought of falling asleep in this alien place - but he had been too young, untrained, and uneducated to resist the simple process.<br/><br/>The Idaeo'an took the now-limp boy fully into his grasp, holding him not unlike a dirty towel.  Then he turned his back to the boy's parents, while speaking in a low, disembodied voice that was just for them.  It was a simple manipulation of vocal sound that stated, "Your donation has been accepted."<br/><br/><hr/><br/>12 years; 12 grueling years, it had been.  It was his birthday, not that the ascetic Idaeo'an of Onumu Saokeima Taesu celebrated such things.  As one elder had once stated, "<em>Why celebrate one point in time over another, if they all amount to the same thing?</em>"  Today was different, though.  He awoke with an eerie sense prickling its way up and down his spine, and raised his eyes to find the eldest Idaeo'an, Daosun Reitao, staring down at him.  "<em>We have need of you,</em>" was all that he said, in that carefully-practiced, deadened monotone of his.  Reigumon knew better than disobey; one of the few glimmers of creativity evinced by Daosun Reitao was when he devised punishments for the boy.  So, he pulled himself from his cot to follow the eldest Idaeo'an quietly, and as complacently as he had managed to train himself to be.  His eyes remained trained upon the floor, so as not to sully the walls with his yet-fledgling perceptions; they were headed to one of the sacred altar-rooms.  To the untrained eye - as if the possessing person would be allowed here - it was identical to any of the other rooms in the Monaznar, except for the small grey slab that hovered about 30 cm above the floor.  Pausing by the head of the altar-slab, Daosun Reitao gestured, and ordered, "<em>kneel and lay your arm across the stone.</em>"<br/><br/>Reigumon quickly responded, despite his confusion; he'd always been told never to enter, and never to touch.  Yet, his instinctive desire to avoid Reitao's cruel punishment caused him to move quickly into position, and his pale arm stretched across the leechingly-cold stone.  He had a brief flashback of the Idaeo'an's hands when he had first arrived.  However, before he could fully relive the experience, Daosun Reitao pulled something strange out of his robe that caught his immediate attention.  It looked like a skinless hand, and appeared to have been carefully crafted from saokei, the only metal known to Paramnar.  Small motes of violet light played across the surface of this strange hand as the monk turned to the young boy.<br/><br/>In the breath of a moment, it felt as if his nervous system had exploded; Reigumon could no longer maintain more than a fleeting, scattered thought; all his neurons were firing at once.  Daosun Reitao indulged himself in a slight smirk as his manipulation paralyzed Reigumon.  Stretching out one of his hands, all the light in the room seemed to jump away from the walls to coalesce around the Idaeo'an's fingers.  He methodically plied the Seitaoi Daomasu, and moulded the light as one might craft clay into a suitable tool.  A tool was exactly what it turned out to be; Reigumon watched in horror as a ruby red beam of pure light was guided down.  His body was unable to react, and he could only watch, panicked and horrified, as it cut through his arm above the wrist.  What horrible experiment was this, and did the Idaeo'suzei have any idea of what was being performed by his eldest Oathbound!?<br/><br/>The fleeting thought was lost as a pain - like nothing he'd ever felt - flooded his brain.  He was barely conscious, held upright only by Reitao's previous manipulation, as the monk deftly caught the severed hand.  Moving quickly, he pressed the strange, saokeima hand to the cauterized stump of Reigumon's arm.  Then, white tendrils of raw life energy coursed from the severed hand to the metallic one, and completed the "circuit."  The new appendage had fused to him, and his original hand disintegrated, crumbling into a dust that Reitao allowed to sift to the floor.  Reigumon finally collapsed as the Idaeo'an released the first, and last, manipulation, and he lay there - clutching the saokeima hand to his chest - in shock.  Daosun Reitao sniffed derisively, then turned on his heel; he somberly exited the room to find someone, lower than himself, to clean up his mess.<br/><br/>Later on, back in his room, Reigumon tried to control his thoughts into a constructive pattern.<em>This is it,</em>he told himself,<em>this is my chance; they have finally gone too far.  There must be another Monaznar out there that does not treat their Oathbound like this.  Or maybe... maybe I should leave the path altogether...</em>.  His head snapped up; it occured to him that he had spent the better part of a year bending his will to a simple problem: how to avoid their notice.  He emptied his mind like they had taught him, only he pushed the concept much farther than they ever dared.  The years of pain had taught him to numb his soul in a fashion that no Oathbound at  Onumu Saokeima Taesu could match.  As he built his focus, and left the residual pain of his "operation" behind, he slowly faded from view.  This was not exactly Seitaoi Daomasu, but something deeper, more primal; in his mind he didn't even exist.  In his soul, he was nothing; in being nothing, he couldn't be observed.  That night, he departed from the cold, stark confines, and vowed to never return to it.<br/><br/><hr/><br/>Daosun Reitao sensed the change in the atmosphere, as Reigumon<em>Faded</em>more than he ever had before.  He allowed himself a small chuckle of amusement and whispered, "<em>I was right, and he has </em>no<em> idea.  Goodbye, Reigumon, and stay true to <em>your</em> path.</em>"  He grimaced as he felt his prodigy's essence fade and depart, and he flicked his hand to dissipate the image he had conjured to monitor the boy.  A moment passed, and a thought occured to him.  "<em>It took him long enough.</em>" he said with a testy little smirk painted upon his mouth.  Then he sat as his spartan desk and took out an unmarked, leatherbound journal.  Turning it to a blank page, he began to scrawl a fresh new set of notes...