Out of Journal. Meetings: Yolin.
Dai-Mamori-no-Kami are, to Yolin Makav, something that is encountered once in a lifetime if one has good fortune. A sign that things will turn to one's favor.
As the eigth child of Bosin Makav, a successful Scout that was part of Red Island's Comittee for State Security for two thousand years, she was raised to see things for what they truly are instead of what they appeared to be.
To witness a Dai-Mamori-no-Kami is as much a sign of good fortune as it is of trouble.
Trouble, however, is fun. It helps people grow and learn new things. Conflict leads to improvement, after all.
As an individual following the Legacies of both Danuva and Shorvanna, combining the faith of the Clergy and the resilience of Warriors, Yolin Makav follows a simplistic yet absolutist view of the world.
Does it respect the Dai-Satori-no-Kami?
Does it respect the Dai-Mamori-no-Kami?
Divines and Eternals are, in few words, the compass of the world.To go against them is to wander aimlessly—without path, goal, aim, ambition, or true meaning. It is through their Legacies that people find purpose. Anything else is void of value.
Thus, simplicity becomes the highest aspiration. A good fight. A good whiskey. A good meal. An honest conversation. A patch of grass to rest upon.
Life was simple—like the countless islands surrounding Red Island.
Until she saw Miraztor Xipnak from afar one day.
The Dai-Mamori-no-Kami, in his golden brilliance and Eternal grace, was beyond anything Yolin could appraise. A being at such a peak of existence that, for the first time in her life, she questioned her own worldview. Life, perhaps, wasn’t that simple.
So she followed the compass pointing toward the peak.
But then, if encountering one Dai-Mamori-no-Kami was good fortune, what was the paper in her hands?
Life had brought her to the city of Mountroad in the Lumin Kingdom. It was a relatively small settlement, though the Dungeon there was decent enough, in her opinion. The monsters consisted mostly of Mammals, Golems, and Insects. Traps were harder to find than hiding criminals, and the pay was good.
So why?
Why, after finally healing from heartbreak and deciding to give relationships another shot, was she staring at a single word on the paper?
She had been called to meet potential partners, an Elf and a Luzo.
But the paper in her hands?
Raising her gaze to the women sitting on a couch across the table. One good eye studied them, while the other remained covered by an eyepatch—a reminder of a lapse in judgment, a moment of dumb arrogance.
Alyssa Pruvik and Lapia Pofeta met her gaze, welcoming and warm smiles on their beautiful faces after they introduced themselves and their set of skills.
Yolin Makav, daughter of Bosin Makav, saw things as they were.
One of them was among the most famous Clerics in Leks' Chasing sphere, having acquired arguably the most complex Healing Class: Cardinal. The number of people capable of such a feat were counted with the fingers of one hand, yet some would remain folded! Out of two and a half billion people!
The other was a former noble of the Queendom of Maaruuhk, from a family ranked third in its government. An Elven Master Wizard who had personally taught a Dai-Mamori-no-Kami for a decade!
That wasn't simple, was it?
Yolin looked down at the paper again, her good eye going over the first two lines written on it.
Name: Natasha NovakSpecies: Halve (Forest)
'Natasha' was a name she had never heard nor seen in her two hundred years of life—and the same was true for 'Novak'. The alliterative quality made it, in a way, rather cute in her opinion. Its phonetics stood out, piquing her curiosity. It carried a lyrical feel, almost like a name a Performer might come up with for an afternoon tale to entertain children.
If encountering one Dai-Mamori-no-Kami was good fortune, what was meeting two?
Yolin set the paper down on the table, her gaze flicking back to the two women sitting across from her. “So,” she began, leaning back in the couch and crossing her arms, “you’re looking for a Tank. And you’ve got a Halve with you?” She arched a brow, glancing briefly at the paper. “A Halve Warrior,” she specified.
Fifteen thousand years was a long time. The last Halve Warrior, Rozmu Imokk, was the very example of Honor in Combat, rumored to lend Legendary weapons to whoever challenged him to a duel. His two greatswords always won, though.
About time, the Oni thought. Serving a Dai-Mamori-no-Kami doesn't sound bad at all.
Alyssa Pruvik chuckled, the sound deep and pleasant to the ear. “Not just a Tank,” she pointed out, slightly shaking her head. “We're not looking for a hireling, Yolin. We're looking for a partner in all the meanings of the word.”
“A lover,” Lapia Pofeta chimed in, her tone teasing and light. “We includes Natasha, by the way,” she added with cheeky smirk, her emerald green eyes squinting in mieschief.
Yolin's brain took pause.
The form she just read had a line pertaining to the Halve's genitals.
She has a penis, Yolin concluded, her mouth watering a little. A Halve Warrior...
Having focused on Tank Classes, Yolin Makav could endure almost everything that was around her level on her own... granted she didn't let her guard down like she did when she lost her eye. She had, so far, outlasted every lover she had in bed as well.
But a Halve? A Warrior who's Total Level was one thousand three hundred and fifty?
That was five hundred levels more than Yolin.
But life was simple. If it wasn't, life could be made simple.
“Where is the Halve?” Yolin asked, having decided to give it a try.
A good, simple fight would suffice. It would tell her everything she needed to know. Restraint, respect, care, and not any less important but wholly secondary due to being obvious, the Halve's strength.
“Securing an Inn,” Alyssa Pruvik replied, the edges of her smile quivering in excitement. “You'll meet her soon enough.”
Yolin had noticed, naturally. She was a Cleric, too.
The Krystaali Luzo had scanned her no less than three hundred times in the minutes since they met, her red eyes following Yolin’s frame with an focus that could carve stone. At first, Yolin chalked it up to the healer’s professional instincts—perhaps assessing her muscles for any structural flaws, injuries, or irregularities that could hinder her role as a Tank. After all, Alyssa's reputation as a high-ranking cleric preceded her, and her scrutiny seemed meticulous enough to match.
But no. It wasn’t just that.
The healer’s gaze lingered too long on the curve of her shoulders, the ripple of her arms when she moved, the steady rise and fall of her chest. Yolin had caught her more than once tracing the lines of her abs with her eyes, as if mentally cataloging every muscle fiber.
And then there was the tail.
Luzo tails were expressive, even when they tried to hide it. Alyssa’s tail betrayed her thoughts, curling and uncurling in a slow, deliberate rhythm that matched the sway of hips when walking. It wasn’t random; it was purposeful. Yolin wasn’t oblivious—she had seen that same pattern enough to recognize it for what it was. The healer was checking her out, plain and simple, and not with the clinical detachment of a healer analyzing a patient.
No, Alyssa was thirsty.
Still, Yolin found herself entertained by the healer’s attempts to conceal her interest. The rhythmic curling and straightening of Alyssa’s tail might have been subtle to some, but for someone as perceptive as Yolin, it was a dead giveaway. Luzo tails weren’t just for balance—they were an extension of emotion, a physical manifestation of what was otherwise left unsaid. And in this case, the tail spoke volumes.
“She's quite a unique one,” Lapia Pofeta added with a playful tone.
Yolin's eyebrows rose at that, her attention stolen. “Unique how?”
“You’ll see,” Alyssa Pruvik answered with a knowing smile and look. “Let’s just say she’s not your typical Halve—whatever you think that might mean.”
As if on cue, the double doors creaked open, carrying the sound of footsteps into the room's smooth floor.
Yolin's good eye shifted to the source—a towering figure entering the room behind the Dwarf who had fetched her earlier.
She was tall, one of two centimeters taller than Yolin, with a commanding presence that made the room feel smaller. Her hair was shining gold like the suns, cascading down her back to her knees like a peaceful waterfall, and her golden eyes gleamed with warm light. She carried herself with the kind of confidence that only came from knowing no one in the world could best her.
Her clothes were simple—practical, even. Dark, comfortable looking leather garments that stuck to her figure, revealing sculpted and firm muscles everywhere Yolin's good eye landed.
The woman's face carried an almost annoyed expression, as if glaring at the world in slight distaste. A straight nose, full lips in an almost frown, eyes a third closed, a strong and sharp jaw, high cheekbones, and the most noticeable detail: a horizontal golden line crossing the pupil.
[Natasha, Forest Halve Lvl 450 Dragoon – Healthy – Hermaphrodite: Omniovary – Recently Born]
Yolin's heart skipped a beat. A Dai-Mamori-no-Kami. In the flesh!
It was one thing to hear tales of their presence, to read books detailing their unfathomable strength, or to listen to the whispers of those who claimed to have glimpsed one from afar. But this—this was entirely different. The moment the woman entered, the air shifted. Not metaphorically, but physically, as though the weight of the world adjusted to accommodate her arrival.
The stories didn’t do them justice. The aura she exuded was a primal force, raw and untamed, yet perfectly controlled. It prickled Yolin's skin, sharp and electric, like the moments before a thunderstorm unleashed its fury. A shiver raced down her spine, a visceral reaction she couldn’t suppress, as if her very instincts demanded she recognize the overwhelming presence before her.
But Yolin Makav, daughter of Bosin Makav, was not one to be cowed. She saw things as they were, not through the filter of fear or awe. She forced herself to meet the woman’s gaze directly, taking in every detail of her striking features and imposing stature. What she saw surprised her.
There was none of the arrogance often attributed to a Dai-Mamori-no-Kami—no sneering superiority, no haughty commands that demanded unquestioning obedience. Instead, there was a calm neutrality in her expression, an indifference so profound it bordered on amusement. The woman’s disinterested gaze swept the room, pausing briefly on Alyssa and Lapia, before continuing as though cataloging details without assigning them undue weight.
This lack of ego was unnerving in its own way. Yolin had met Warriors, Wizards, Clerics, Scouts, and Archers who bristled with self-importance, their postures stiff with pride or expectation. But this woman was different. She didn’t need to impose her will or prove her strength—it was evident in every step, in the way the room seemed to orbit her without her making any effort to command it.
It wasn’t just her aura or her presence, though both were overwhelming. It was her silence. The kind that spoke volumes. Yolin had faced down monsters and Mortals alike, and there was always a certain predictability to how the strong carried themselves—a tendency to posture or boast. But this woman was beyond all that.
This is it, she thought and stood up, crossing her arms under her chest to ground herself.
“Hello, m—” she began, her voice smooth but firm.
“Halve! Fight me!” Yolin interrupted, unable to hold back the grin spreading across her face. She took a step toward the golden Warrior.
The Halve turned to the Elf and Luzo, then tilted her head ever so slightly, no reaction to being interrupted nor a duel being issued.
The Dwarf at her side chuckled, clapping her back. “Good luck, Lady Natasha.” With that, he turned and left, closing the doors behind him.
Natasha's throat moved in the telltale signs of a gulp, as if preparing for the meal in front of her.
With a surge of adrenaline, Yolin took a step of her own, standing firm under the studying glare of the Dai-Mamori-no-Kami.
“No violence,” the golden Warrior stated with a shake of her head, resolute and firm.
“Not violence,” the Oni corrected with a shake of her own head. “Just a fight for fun,” she clarified and turned to grab a form from the table, holding it out to her.
She took it without hesitation, scanning it quickly before looking back at the Tank. “Natasha Novak,” she introduced herself softly, her voice silvery and smokey.
“Yolin Makav,” Yolin introduced herself back with a wide, excited smile.
The Eternal's gaze lingered on Yolin for a moment, her golden eyes going over her frame before meeting hers again. “So you’re a tank?” she asked, switching to Orkish.
Yolin felt a surge of excitement, her eyes widening in pleased surprise. “You know Orkish? Good!” She nodded. “Your form didn’t say anything about Languages. I guess you haven’t heard enough of them, yet. As you asked, I’m a Tank. Cleric base, Monk, Paladin, and Asura. I have various skills to redirect attention and increase durability, knowledge of fighting techniques, and I can inflict enemies with a few effects,” she explained her Classes. “How about you?”
“I fight with a spear. Warrior base, Hoplite, Lancer, and Dragoon. I have a few auras and warcries, and skills to fight big monsters. My Lancer class benefits from riding a mount. I have a Ratnak,” the golden Warrior replied. Her voice was steady, calm, and oddly soothing.
Yolin's eye kept focusing on her lips as she spoke. There was light in there as opposed to the dark chasm Mortals have for a mouth.
Natasha glanced at Alyssa and Lapia, then focused back on Yolin.
“Let’s fight, then,” Yolin urged, giving her a toothy grin. “We can bond later.”
“Why do you want to fight me?” The Eternal asked, no change in her expression so far.
“You’re a warrior.” she shrugged as if the answer was obvious. “I’d like to test my strength against a Halve.”
To that, the Dai-Mamori-no-Kami giggled. Her golden eyes softened slightly, and she let out a quiet laugh. “Sure,” she said, a small grin forming on her lips. “I’ll hold back, though. I don’t really know the extent of my strength yet.”
Once again, Yolin Makav, daughter of Bosin Makav, saw things as they were!
The woman in front of her was, despite appearances, species, power, status, or age, a simple person.
“No problem.” The Oni turned to the door, propelled by something new. A new emotion. Excitement and something else entirely. “Let's go outside, then,” she proposed.
Yolin Makav, after encountering a second Dai-Mamori-no-Kami, found herself undergoing a surprisingly swift mindset readjustment.
For all the legends and myths, all the grandiose stories woven around their existence, the truth was starkly different: they were simple. No convoluted motives, no airs of superiority, no elaborate games. They moved through the world with a directness that belied their immense power, as if their strength afforded them the freedom to simply be.
Yolin liked that.
She had always preferred straightforward things—clear challenges, honest people, and plain truths. The Halve’s disinterest in unnecessary drama or complication resonated with her. It was refreshing, grounding, in a way she hadn’t expected.
She's simple, she concluded with a wide smile.
And Yolin liked simple things and people.