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Sainaiz Yesun was born a herder's son, the last of eight children. When it came time to name him, his parents had run out of ideas. So his father began calling him 'Sainaiz', “friend and brother” in Aareleis - the old tongue of the Dalkun, hoping that the name would instill a great purpose in the boy. Perhaps it did, though it appeared to be nothing more than simple irony for the majority of his life. While his brothers and sisters learned the ways of the land, becoming leaders in their own rites, Sainaiz honed his talent for fast-talking his way out of trouble. While his siblings practiced their martial skills, he discovered how to pick locks. As he grew older, the more of a disgrace he became in his father's eyes. After an embarrassing scandal with a neighbor's daughter, Sainaiz was banished from his home. His father declared him a disgrace to his name, and ordered him never to return.
Nameless, he wandered from one isolated community to the next. Though he had few skills to trade for food and shelter, he had a gift for convincing others that he was useful. Time and time again, he would be taken into a stranger's caravan only to leave under cover of darkness a few days later with a couple of pilfered items to trade. He traveled towards the northern steppes, carefree and detached from the world around him.
At last he came to Beisu Tang, home to some of the richest men and women in Daidama. He had heard that luxuries could be found among the Daidamese, but seeing was truly believing. His mouth almost watered with the opulence around him and he concocted scheme after scheme to liberate valuables from those who clearly had too much for their own good. His plans worked every time, and soon he could buy into the extravagance of this new world. His time among the Daidamese taught him many things, the most important being that they were really no different from the Dalkun. They worked just as hard in their pursuits, but certainly had more to show for it. The more they had, the more they wanted. He had seen the same among the leaders of the Dalkun raiding parties, and even exhibited it in his own burglaries.
Wealth, no matter what its form, was addicting; and both peoples seemed to have a weakness for its siren call. After seven years away from Dalkun-Tir, Sainaiz decided that he should return home and try to make amends. His journey was cut short, however, when a caravan he had previously defrauded recognized him. He soon found himself chased by a dozen angry Dalkun riders with bows and javelins, and Sainaiz thought his lucky days had finally come to an end. He ran past the point of exhaustion and, just as it looked as if his pursuers would overtake him, a massive dust storm blocked their progress. The blinding dirt and wind dazed him, and he plunged headfirst into a deep cavern before he realized what had happened.
When he could at last see again, he discovered a well of pure, sparkling water that illuminated the cave's smooth walls. The bone statue of a great horned beast stood over the well like a protective lover, but Sainaiz gave the strange sight little thought. A thirst like he had never experienced drew him to the water, and he drank handful after handful. When he was at last sated, he rested against the statue, pleased and somewhat bewildered at his escape. Just as he was about to drift to sleep, he began to hear voices – indistinct at first, but rapidly becoming more and more clear.
They told him they were the souls of the Dalkun, and that he was at last ready to fulfill his destiny. The pieces came together and Sainaiz felt ill. As a child, whenever he had heard the stories told around the campfire, he had always taken it as a tale to amuse the young and gullible. Now it was happening to him. He tried to resist, struggling to clear his mind, but something unseen overtook him. Trapped in his own body, he watched in disbelief as his hands freed a dagger from his boot and raked the blade across his head. Amazingly, he felt no pain as the blood soaked into the mats of fallen hair. It felt... right. With a quick kick of his boot, he cast the liberated mass into the water. It floated for a moment before disappearing into the impossible blue depths. As it sank, words formed on Sainaiz's lips, a promise to guide and protect his people.
The voices of the fallen Dalkun became excited and loud. They were so proud of him, of the great thing to come, and of the mantle passed. Then, they fell silent, replaced by the low tones of a single speaker – Orvesu. It was time for him to renew his promise to the Dalkun and again have a presence among them. Sainaiz would be that presence. He was the new Outrider.