In the shadow of the night, the crisp clattering and clicking of mantes in synchronized, deep prayer, and the local grasshoppers with their ritualistic and oddly calming nocturnal activities can be heard in waves and tides, like the ocean and sea can be loudly heard by a naval grunt. However, as the constant sounds of wind and insect crackle through the area, anyone adventurous enough to go on a precarious nightly walk would be greeted by the rustling of nearby bushes followed by the sudden appearance a scraggly and unkempt person resembling a relic of civilization with rotten rags and a heap of dust on his face. After witnessing such an ominous figure, one would have the many choices of: screaming and running away; screaming and whacking the figure to a bloody pulp; or screaming and staying stationary and alert, witnessing the preposterous and frequently mundane speech(es) of what would appear to be a poor conman.
To begin dissecting this brilliant specimen of a complete and utter mistake, one would have to go back, far back to the era when he was born. In this brief capsule of time, this man born in Atlas, and raised within the Kingdom of Santegia, this being named Insensé was conceived, popped out the womb fresh, was looked at with a single glance by both mother and father, and gained a heavy handed sigh of grief directed towards his creation. When he reached childhood in an arguably low-income family, he had the pleasure of hearing many beloved fairy tale stories. One story that revealed his troubling idiocy was the story of The Four Brothers: Horen, Malin, Krug, and Urguan, the creators of the four descendant races and sons of The Creator. For no logical reason, he decided to understand the story as if he had never been educated, believing that The Four Brothers were four drunken men in a stupor and intense haze that they began to fight out in the streets, causing a riot which rivaled the nations. Of course, this was completely and utterly false and nothing short of heretical, which earned him the scorn of many of those that were unfortunately in his company. Insensé would continue with these outrageous claims constantly, eventually reaching to his ridiculous claim that a quadruple-split non-magical force was gifted to him by the laws of the universe and was accurately named “Coun-Vean-Eine-Ance” (convenience). Using this newfound and nonexistent power, he began to commit many fraudulent acts in front of friend and foe, always making sure to refer to his power and be able to conveniently write up an alibi on how the purse in his hands just so happened to look exactly the same as his grandmother’s and contain the same goods stored in her purse right when her purse went missing all of a sudden. After a few too many bouts with “Coun-Vean-Eine-Ance” in his little village, he came home during a lovely evening to a backpack containing all of his belongings and the stern faces of both family members and guards. Unfortunately, the power he had was not great enough to find a way out of this one little incident, and so he had nowhere else to go but to somewhere. He eventually became a vagrant, dealing in more acts of fraud, such as selling dyed water bottles as potions, or selling regular wheat as a special eastern variety meant to invigorate the body. To this day, he would wander on and on, occasionally begging for coin or picking change off the streets. It seemed as his understanding of the word “work” did not exactly align with what most believe it to be, leaving any task the moment he deemed it difficult or challenging.
Knowing all of this, the onlooker would dismiss this Insensé as nothing more than the effect of poor parental care or general bad luck. They may even chalk it up to him being an aspiring jester, clown, storyteller, or applying for the regarded, grand, and highly-competitive positions of “village idiot” and “village loony”. However, one thing that was consistent in almost all interactions with this strangely inept being known as “Insensé” is that nothing made sense, that nothing should be taken to note. Whether be it adhering to his self-image of a hero of the weak and poor to gain the funding of the local villagers, to later being a campaigner of the nobility only mere moments later due to the closest guard menacingly staring at him whilst gripping a heavy-looking halberd, Insensé’s morals and beliefs shatter as easily as glass and are replaced as quickly as ant workers. Strangely enough, one common and oddly consistent theory that all who have met him agree on is that Insensé is a stupid, stupid man.
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