Danger Level:
✦✦✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧ (Low)
Frequent Locations:
Habitable forest levels.
An illustration of Leonid, provided by one Marseille
Description:
Leonid, better known by a variety of aliases (such as: The Wild Scholar, Ghost Whisperer, etc.), is an enigmatic wayfaring entity of unknown origin. His nomadic lifestyle makes information scarce, but most reports describe Leonid as a cordial but somewhat perplexing individual to talk to.
Frequent anecdotes on Leonid describe his general appearance: a humanoid insect of unknown species, usually adorned in long cloaks and various outfits assembled from dried animal skin and fur.
Most of what has been seen of his biology entails this; His body is covered almost entirely in a brown exoskeleton, with exception for his joints and eyes. This also includes the backside of his head and upper arms, which are instead covered in white fur. This fur drapes down below his shoulders and onto his back, acting as another layer of protection for his upper body.
He carries a notable amount of scarring and injury on his exoskeleton, including a large burn scar on the right leg, a missing finger on the right hand, and a large gash type scar across the face. Despite the grievousness of some of these injuries, Leonid appears to be in no pain because of them.
He also carries a variety of personal trinkets and objects carried on his person, some of which include:
- A Churchwarden Pipe along with a stash of dried tobacco
- A Hussar Szabla
- Multiple Memory Jars varying in colours
- A golden locket always worn around his neck
- A Pack of Tarot Cards
Disposition:
Leonid is known as a cordial but somewhat eccentric figure for many with experiences with the nomad. He is friendly and welcoming to wanderers who may meet his path, often offering solace in temporary camps he sets up. Those who stop and converse with him describe the nomad as a very well traveled and experienced wanderer as well as a polyglot, speaking English, Russian, Polish, Hungarian, and various unidentified languages with a heavy Russian accent. Many of his described experiences are of places and Stratums not yet discovered.
His more idiosyncratic traits often emerge upon long-winded conversations with Leonid; often speaking to those not present or even addressing people with the names of their deceased relatives. He never breaks his candid personality and typically speaks in a distant and almost ethereal tone. Many describe conversations with Leonid as deeply philosophical, often discussing their place in reality, mortality, legacy, and various other deep seated topics. Despite these often melancholy topics, Leonid is noted to keep discussions light-hearted.
Witness Accounts:
03/06/1886
I was in the Dust Pit. Those storms sting your eyes, chokes out all the air in your lungs; It’s surely a place contaminated with miasma… And of course, I’m unlucky enough to fall right into it. I was trying to get out of that place, looking for any way to escape, to find some sot of solace. There’s some of those ramshackle houses along the path I was taking, and realising a storm was starting to form, I entered one. That’s when I met him.
He’s a strange sight to behold, that's for sure. A monster of this realm, propping himself up as a civilised man, and I must say, he’s quite good at it. If his monstrous form was more easily hidden, then surely he could fool even the most clever man of his humanity. He’s sitting alone, on one of the destroyed wrecks that once, a long time ago, may have been a chair of some kind. He speaks to me in the King’s English, although with a thick accent resembling the one of the Russian man. Offers me a smoke, although I have no pipe to indulge with.
He asks me this question, which I will now paraphrase; 'These areas have always fascinated me. They seem to have the ghosts of life, ones that now only whisper in the screaming maelstrom of dust. But, good sir, do you think these imprints of life are nothing but an illusion, another trick of the psyche? A desperate attempt to insinuate a shadow of human life in this inhuman land?' It was not something I had thought beforehand. These strange lands make little time for higher thought, crumbling away to make way for the desperate, primal desire to stay alive. But now that I finally had a moment to reflect, the insect had a good argument indeed. I told him it was unlikely anything could survive in such a place, and that these ruins were nothing but a testament to a time forgotten. He seemed pleased with this answer, nodding his head.
'This land is indeed a testament to time, but I believe it's true purpose is yet to be answered to. For now, it is an omen for what is to come. At least, that is my current belief, supported by others of its kind.'
As the winds die down, he tells me how to leave that damned pit and waves goodbye. I do remember asking him about his business in such a place, but he refused only with silence. I turned to leave, but when I turned to say my last goodbyes, he was gone.
-Alcott
26? 30/07/1896
It was in some sort of forest. The trees were so high that I couldn’t see their canopies. It was a rather cold place too, I might’ve froze if Mr. Leonid hadn't offered his campfire for reprise. Despite his rather ghastly appearance, he was such a kind soul. Told me stories of places I have never seen, places I hope to never see. And despite the man being of a different type, of different breed, his eyes were withered with age that only one sees in old soldiers… Like my fathers. It… Somewhat surprised me I saw so much humanity in Mr. Leonid. It's a comforting thought however, to know that kindness can be given to someone even if they aren’t even one of yours.
-Marseille