𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐒
𝐅𝐔𝐋𝐋 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄. zainab "zai" fadoul 𝐀𝐆𝐄. 28 𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐍𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓. chaotic evil 𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐒. rogue / barbarian 𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍. Ronin-sexual, top 𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐎𝐖𝐍. alexandra, south africa 𝐆𝐎𝐃 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓. sobek, egyptian pantheon 𝐎𝐂𝐂𝐔𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍. professional criminal and acolyte
𝐏𝐇𝐘𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋 𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄
𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐑. blond since his initiation 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒. green 𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓. 6 ft 𝐁𝐔𝐈𝐋𝐃. monstrous build 𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐒. various on face and body from battles, brand scar on right hand representing the Ouroboros 𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐎𝐎𝐒. an old, faded stick-and-poke tattoo representing his home gang 𝐏𝐈𝐄𝐑𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒. none, cuffs on ears 𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌. taz skylar
𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘
𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐒. fun-loving, daring, unencumbered 𝐍𝐄𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐒. selfish, sadistic, incorrigible 𝐇𝐎𝐁𝐁𝐈𝐄𝐒. swimming, including diving, surfing, and hunting in water. weapons, cars, using both to do bad things. playing jokes on others. overthrowing authority and dominating people. clubs, drugs, food, travel, art and cooking. INSPIRATION. jax from the amazing digital circus and crocodiles in general with their mood, behavior and aesthetic.
𝐌𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋 𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐃
𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐋. self-serving and coldblooded 𝐏𝐇𝐘𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋. enhanced condition, ability to hold his breath underwater, fangs and crocodile tail to bite and grapple 𝐏𝐇𝐎𝐁𝐈𝐀𝐒. feelings, inexperienced comrades and authority 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓. 20/20 𝐃𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃. right 𝐃𝐑𝐔𝐆 𝐔𝐒𝐄. often 𝐀𝐋𝐂𝐎𝐇𝐎𝐋 𝐔𝐒𝐄. often 𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐓. he eats what he wants! literally.
𝐁𝐈𝐎𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐇𝐘
Zainab got his start in what is known as the Dark City. Alexandra, a township north of Johannesburg in South Africa. A long dilapidated community with great problems of sanitation, water supply, electricity and roads. Tainted by crimes of the past and the promise of more to follow each day. He was raised upon soiled mattresses infested with bed bugs, his only company being a crowded chaotic family and neighbors. Mind rotting drugs and loaded guns were often at an arms reach. The family didn’t pay an acquisitive landlord for security, because they were the danger. Running in a gang in close proximity to their competitors. Reports of gunfire reached record highs by the time he was initiated, but he was proud to take that next step and find his seat in the car. A perilous day long journey to make on foot was a refreshing jaunt by wheel, due south toward Johannesburg where the affluent dwelled in leisure. On those special days, Zai and the gang would terrorize that ideal world. Rob innocents of their sense of safety, take what they needed to survive before returning to their pit. Strangers from outside their community would sometimes visit. Pastors, police, and brave social workers. All with high hopes that the gangs would disband and after a generation or two a new settlement could fill their township. Clear of malice, drugs and contamination. Zai would sneak out of the crowded room rather than listen and often reflected beside the banks of Jukskei River. No one ever waded in the low, filthy waters, but beyond the rising waste was the story of earlier gangs throwing the bodies of their victims into the river. The darkness still persisting, deeper than roots, constant as that foul current. Like cursed blood. Ancient blood. A keen volunteer spotted Zai alluding a meeting once and began to invade his tranquility by the river. Trying her best to convince Zai to progress down a different path. He wasn’t convinced. After months of such meetings he ran into her on duty one night, mid-robbery, where he met her hopeful gaze before pulling the trigger. An unarmed volunteer turned witness dying at his feet. He fled Johannesburg before dawn and wouldn’t hear the wailing cries of her children and community. Though they still managed to haunt his imagination. A clawing itch at the back of his memory and mind. The murder and escape was fortuitous for Zai who journeyed further south, til he found the ocean. Accomplices by his side, they ditched the guilt and spent two weeks living as nomads across the coastline. Laying low, Zai thrived in the waters he’d never seen or swam in before, rinsing and repeating after rowdy nights by campfire getting high and eating their fill of new delicacies from the area. It was his first taste of freedom and Zai pledged never to return home, but go further, trust his instincts and reach only for what he desired. Once the heat returned for their arrest, the party disbanded, Zai remained with one ally whose resources connected them with the business of human trafficking. Migrants, at first, from Zimbabwe who desperately needed help. The partnerships grew as did the trust when professionals found cooperation and talent in Zai. The “heroism” of transporting women and children, burned political figures, and amputated criminals for a hefty fee coalesced with the ever powerful drug and arms business. Zai made it his mission to not only succeed, but improve their system to evade knowledge or punishment and intimidate any would-be competitors.
Within years, the gang far exceeded their dreams of reward and began to live quite comfortably outside of work. Zainab was a leader, occupying penthouses, buying or taking what he desired, and killing opposition. Still, his greatest comfort could be found beside bodies of water and the vast darkness within. Where no one and nothing that didn’t belong could find him. Hearing the static silence, taking the pressure from all sides as he sank, Zai could feel connection to something beyond his skin. He wanted to stay and be apart of it. It was one of these evening dives that launched Zai from his plane of existence to a fiery, black casted forge, before the God of Animus. Corinth stood sweating beside his crucible, expression unamused, but gaze locked on the mortal as if studying him. Somehow, the Dark Knight understood that Zainab needed to be shown what lay beyond his limited reality to believe what was being offered. Despite his humble beginnings, Zai came to learn that he was different, special, and more importantly had lead a mortal life of progress rather than squander his potential. He would have to aid their new cause to awake the god power within or be cast aside, return home with not even a memory of this truth. There was work to be done in New Olympus and no time to be wasted on hesitant acolytes. The God revealed the development of the Dark Court. The destruction they wrought and their influence that spread out like dye in water. They required conquest, refinement, aid, and in turn offered power worthy of a God child. Greater than any mortal authority that ever reared its head in his direction. Beyond morals. Beyond man. Selfishly, as Zai tended to make his decisions, the criminal agreed. Kneeling before the God, he received the hot elven iron brand of Ouroboros atop his right hand. Plain to see. An extension of Corinth’s servitude to the Dark King. What was awakened within him after ingesting the heady ambrosia was beyond imagining. The sense for what was once unknown bound to him in a pure connection. The merging magic within mirrored outward by the sudden dagger point of fangs then spiked scales arching from his lower back, extending beyond into a crocodile tail. A proud symbol of Sobek, ancient God of the Nile and fertility. Like his distant father, Zainab discovered universal order in the dark waters that led him to New Olympus. Ever since, his allegiance has been firm and intrigue for this strange new world tipped to an insatiable intensity.
