The Grand OC SII: The Re-OCening: Week 29: UNINTELLIGIBLE!

Name: Asterion
Species: Horned Humanoid
Gender: Male
Colors: Knowledge is power and apparently Blue

Definition:
Asterion is not having a great day. Once a wizard’s apprentice too curious for his good, he is now an horrific mishmash of animalistic parts. (Un)Fortunately, he still fit the barest definition of humanoid – top heavy, proportionally longer limbs, and the spark of intelligence in his deep-set eyes. Of course, none was more imposing like his crown-like horns; glided and forked, it is the titular physical embodiment of the word enormous and probably the only appealing thing Asterion can muster confidence in during the duration of his transformation.

Asterion does not have confidence, or self-bolstering emotions that could be mustered in the face of what he viewed as cosmic punishment. This is frequently mistaken as dark self-introspection and Asterion knows. And exploits on that fact with adjustments to his behavior - reciting his admittedly extensive knowledge, his wardrobe – adjusting his rags into a more warlock-like state, and his inflection – speaking from his chest. This adds up to an intimidating presence, but it is ultimately flimsy defense against the fact he doesn’t easily deal with pressure. And also, he has never dated before.

Weapons/Abilities:
Asterion is first and foremost a scholar, and not much of a fighter. Now if he really need to deal with an offending person, he simply banishes them into the Maze of Miracles, an alternate dimension that is the ultimate source of knowledge - and his woes. The Maze is spiritually keyed to him, meaning only he has the ultimate say of what comes in and what comes out. Which means he could theoretically leave that person there – forever in its twisty, fractal-y dimensions. Fortunately, there is a way out, but one must find it…before until the starvation and the native terrors set in.

Biography:

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Spoiler
The bull-man unceremoniously gurgled. It fought valiantly, evident in the arduous expression on its face and the way its muscles bulged as it struggled to keep a grip on its mighty halberd. But ultimately the injuries did it in. Its left knee gave away and its right knee – busted and ragged – missed the purchase on the marble floor. It collapsed like a mighty tree and laid there. The pooling darkness beneath it reinforced its defeat and the fact that it had not long in this world as its lifeblood permitted it.

It looked up at the one who defeated it. A lanky young man, dressed in a set of standard wizard robes that had seen better days. He is short of height - mousy-haired, freckled, and fresh-faced, qualities that lent him a personal air of naïve innocence. The bull-man felt an immense sorrow for the victor as it knew the fate that would come to him; the same as it and other predecessors that came before it, but that was the way of magic as omnipresent as life, as unyielding as death. It was only important to tell the man what lies before him and what he needed to face.

“Human…you finally got what you wanted and that is commendable. You are smart – you know the reason why Maze of Miracles was created, but you must know; there is a reason for why this dimension was locked away and all traces evident to its existence scrubbed away. The knowledge – this knowledge - is infinite and the infinity gives it power, but also makes it alien. To put shortly, this knowledge is not of this world and unfortunately, for all its potential use, it has a malign intelligence of its own...”

The bull-man winced as a jolt of pain wracked its shoulder. It saw that the young man also sympathetically winced, the magic sword in his hand clattered to the ground as it convulsed. He quickly grabbed his arm, looking at it with a veneer of suspicion.

“…and the capacity to multiply. It spawned many abominable beings, sharp-toothed and bloody-clawed. Their sheer numbers and their apparent lack of vulnerabilities laid waste to the world, the final toll-bell for the Age of Miracles. The survivors tried to seal it up, but they had already learned and used of this knowledge. Forgetting it was just as easy as un-shattering a broken ceramic cup. So they sealed the accursed maze into its own dimension and sealed it with the greatest curse and the most costly of sacrifices…a being must undergo a rigorous transformation in order to become a suitable guardian of the place. And if that guardian is killed--”

The bull-man’s vision went dark for a moment. When it came to its senses, the man was bent over as if doubled in pain. He uncurled, revealing a disproportionately larger hand, festooned with claws, and a terrified expression. The bull-man chastised itself for mincing words as it did not had long before its death.

“—the closest being would have to take its place.”

“WHAT.”

The bull-man sadly gazed at him. “…Now you are obviously the one chosen by the curse and I am dying, but before I go. I must deplore you, there is a mote of hope within the accursed state. There is a way to seal the knowledge – but not by yourself, but with entities beyond our world as outside evils can only be fought with outside powers. Find a way to gain their help. And if the knowledge is sealed, then the curse will have no purpose to exist anymore, liberating you from a state that had cursed me and the others. Good luck! Stay safe! And…goodbye.”

And so, the bull-man finally died. Its corpse started to boil and sizzle, breaking down to smoke and magic. Its consciousness mercifully faded away before it could witness the painful, prolonged metamorphosis of its successor. Its last thoughts only hoped what it claimed was true and encouraged the man to find a solution. The one thing that was worse than fell-knowledge was stagnation. After all, what brought the Maze of Miracles was progress and only further progress could undo these mistakes.

It has been 50 years. Asterion, the man-transmuted-animal, self-taught himself into a powerful mage. But with time, he still doubted his predecessor’s words.