Net

Net is a young adult Satyr (about 16 Human years), living on the eastern tip of The Fallenlands.

Cast from his society, he stumbles on some very important information leading him on fruitful adventures!

EARLY LIFE:

Was always the odd kid out. As long as he could remember, he'd been cast aside by his family. When his brothers were of wooing age, they all practiced the familiar rituals in regards to romance while he took to wooing the larger rocks on the mountain. (Most of whom had more to like about them than any Satyrs he knew in his flock. Rumor had it that the Satyresses in his father's flock were the most beautiful and lovely in the land.)

Net's bald head was a note of mockery among the women of his flock. And men, for that matter. Typically social and fun-loving creatures, Satyrs tended to share everything as one unit; very little fell under the "possessions" moniker, save, as they so often like to point out, "his horns, his hooves, and his cock".

Sexuality was something Net had almost entirely distanced himself from. The culture of Satyrs was ultra-accepting of procreation, as there is fun and safety in numbers. Plus, it feels good. So who could say no? Who would want to? Unless, of course, there was a chance of creating another horn-less male. So everyone steered clear of Net. How could he fight? How could he prove himself a suitable genetic father for a Satyress' child?

Spring was always Net's favorite time of year because all the other Satyr's shed their horns and, for once, he gets taken seriously. That is, until he speaks and it becomes apparent who he is. Still, at least he's that much less suppressed. As a young teen (8 or 9), he almost fell into a romantic engagement before she recognized that his seed wouldn't yield her a normal baby boy. Disgusted at the monstrous thought of her potential child, she fled, leaving Net once again solitary and ashamed.

ISOLATION:

He regarded his isolation as his very best friend, and was now happy on his own. His mother stopped tending to him after only a year; half as long as all of his siblings. Loneliness was an old acquaintance of his, and brought about many more good friends in form of rocks, sticks and wildflowers that she offered in exchange for his company.

He had heaps of fun on his own. He knew the mountains better than any creature alive. He followed birds to their nests and rabbits to their warrens, sometimes tracing his way to better map out each hill and each curve. When the rain fell, he could navigate just as well as the middle of the summer heat, his cleft hooves greeting stone with a warm and inviting stability that felt like he was gliding across the mountain's face.

He actually constructs the first Satyr hut in all of history, living in a cute little cubby of his most favorite possessions and trinkets, most he found, some he made, and he's happy to call it home.

STORY:

Searching the beaches for sticks, rocks, collectibles, he comes across an old sign that's well weathered and hard to read. "CRESC TW" is all he can make out.