K'Sante's History
K’Sante grew up immersed in his homeland’s history. At dinner, his father told tales of their ancestors who used bravery and strength to resist the tyranny of the Ascended. His mother recounted the fearsome beasts these Nazuman founders slayed as they traversed south through Shurima, eventually discovering an area rich in the rarest of desert treasures—roaring waterfalls, forested cliffs, and plentiful fauna. Far from the reach of the prideful Ascended, this was where the free republic of Nazumah laid its roots. K’Sante absorbed every word, vowing to become Nazumah’s greatest warrior-hunter—one who could live up to the heroes from these stories and lead his people for generations to come.
For two decades, K’Sante trained under various martial teachers. However, it was his parents who taught him to respect Nazumah’s enemies—ruthless predators and imperialist warlords who coveted the city-state’s resources. Remaining a free republic would require more than brute strength, they reminded him. During his training, K’Sante studied with Nazuman scholars, learning how the materials reaped from formidable marks were used to craft advanced weaponry and infrastructure that enabled their homeland to thrive for five centuries.
On his early hunts, K’Sante forged many friendships, but his closest was with a young man from Marrowmark named Tope. Where K’Sante was a blazing force in close combat, Tope specialized in ranged assault. Their chemistry was unmatched as they bested rockbear herds, shakkal raiding parties, and even Xer'Sai stampedes. And as their teamwork grew stronger, so too did their bond.
One starlit evening, K’Sante confessed to Tope, admitting his feelings went beyond camaraderie. When he learned that Tope felt the same way, the two lovingly embraced and shared their first kiss. Together, in that moment under the stars, all seemed right. But all was not.
Two Ascended, Emperor Azir and Magus Xerath, ravaged the continent in a war for dominance over Shurima, both deploying monstrous abominations among their forces. Nazuman scouts soon sighted one such creature—a colossal predator shaped like a lion and a cobra that had wandered astray and was now terrorizing the nearby savanna. When the city-state’s leaders asked who could quell the beast, K’Sante and Tope pledged their might.
On their first attempt, the beast deflected their every attack with powers neither man had seen before. They discovered that its armor, stretching from head to tail, regenerated from nonlethal blows. The men failed to draw blood and were forced to flee from the cobra-lion’s lair with empty hands, leaving it to run wild. And so they tried again and again.
K’Sante’s frustration burned. To become Nazumah’s greatest, he had to slay this beast. Nothing else mattered. He trained dawn to dusk, convinced Tope would understand. Tope, meanwhile, studied the beast. He presented K’Sante with strategies, watching his partner nod along in between assaults on their countless practice dummies. Quietly, Tope questioned if the two of them were strong enough.
Their biggest success was an encounter where they managed to claim a piece of the cobra-lion’s armor. Tope hailed this as progress and thought that if they sought more help, they could make even more headway.
But K’Sante seethed. He’d begun to see the cobra-lion as his undertaking alone, and anything short of slaying the beast was a failure. The heroes he idolized when growing up never failed in battle. So K’Sante couldn’t either, especially not by accepting more support in what had become his battle to prove himself. He’d tried Tope’s ideas—which weren’t working—and, now, Tope believed they weren’t strong enough? K’Sante wouldn’t accept it. He began to wonder if Tope was holding him back and soon dismissed Tope’s strategies as futile.
Hurt, Tope insisted that tactless training was no better—K'Sante's once admirable determination had turned into a self-serving, single-minded drive.
As their pain and anger flared, further encounters with the cobra-lion resulted in further infighting, and the words they exchanged became fewer and fewer until there were none at all. Finally, it seemed the only thing they could agree on was to go their separate ways.
Over the next year, K’Sante kept training, stubborn and alone. His progress was measurable, but progress wasn’t victory. He eventually had the crushing realization that strength alone could not fell the creature. He needed help.
K’Sante gathered the courage to visit Tope’s home, only to learn his former partner had returned to Marrowmark. He was instead greeted by Tope’s aunt. On K’Sante’s way out, she handed him Tope’s journal, explaining that her nephew had left it to assist K’Sante in his fight against his greatest monster.
K’Sante poured over Tope’s journal. Gradually, he noticed the patterns in their mistakes, and when he arrived at the cobra-lion notes, K’Sante was stunned. Tope claimed that the beast was a Baccai—a failed Ascended being. He theorized that Xerath, known for his vile misuse of magic, had forced Shuriman fauna to fuse via the Ascension ritual. Engrossed, K’Sante read the journal from front to back, discovering Tope’s theories about how to slay the Baccai—so many ideas K’Sante had never considered himself. And by that evening, he’d formulated a plan to practice Tope’s methods on lesser monsters.
As his skills grew, K’Sante recalled his parents’ teachings, realizing pride had led him astray. He’d never respected Tope’s ideas enough to try them in earnest. Truthfully, K’Sante had respected his foe more than his partner. In time, he accepted his shortcomings and steadily moved on, thankful for what they had shared, but also grateful to walk his own path with a newfound perspective.
Beneath a scarlet sky, K’Sante approached the cobra-lion once more. He calculated every maneuver, dodging when the beast struck, and striking when the beast slipped. Sunrise became sundown. His weapons were shattered, and his body bloodied, but his spirit was unyielding. When the creature tired at long last, K’Sante found his opportunity—inspired by Tope’s theories—and cornered his foe against a Nazuman waterfall where the natural waters weakened the cobra-lion’s armor, allowing K’Sante to finally land a fatal blow.
Exhausted, K’Sante stood tall—proud not of what he had accomplished, but of the journey he had taken.
K’Sante was celebrated by Nazumah upon his return. Following tradition, he donated the creature’s body to the scholars for study, keeping only a couple slabs of its armor to refine the design of his signature ntofo weapons. They were now engineered to retain the armor’s regenerative properties so that when their heavy outer layer shattered, K’Sante could still wield them as sharp blades until they reformed. For a finishing detail, he carved onto each ntofo something Tope had drawn within his journal—a symbol representing the cobra-lion. Though their time together had ended, K’Sante knew his success was not achieved alone.
Today, K’Sante is hailed as the Pride of Nazumah. But if he is ever to become its greatest leader, he’s learned he must never again let ego cloud his judgment. His home’s future—with the Ascended threat looming—is uncertain. But K’Sante knows that should Azir or Xerath dare march southward, he stands ready to fight.
