In the desert, within the truculent sands, there hides a viper, who goes by Fange. Fange was not always the scaled serpent they are now, he once stood on two legs, and called himself a man. Fange would travel the vast dunes with their brother, Alder, who was, in the eyes of his many followers, infallible. Despite his temerity he often peacocked around like a badge of honor, he and his followers believed that Alder was chosen by the sand-gods, to lead them all to a safe haven. Fange, meanwhile, plodded in his brother's shadow, jealous at Alder's seemingly facile success. "Hurry along, brother! You've been slowing us down for the whole trip," Alder hollered, "We'll never get to Yonhap with you trailing behind!" Fange wished he wasn't so scared to stand up for himself, I'm trailing behind because I'm carrying all of your things, as well as my own! Fange traveled with what they needed, while his brother owned enough to furnish one of the old mansions they found in the past. "I'm trying." He murmured to himself, just loud enough for only him to hear. As they slowly lumbered on, Fange wondered if anyone would see through Alder's chivalrous facade, while he pretended to be an altruistic saint, when in reality he was a horrid monster filled with pungent remiss. Fange couldn't word his distaste for his brother's disgusting behavior, otherwise he'd be seen as a heretic, and brutally slaughtered, he's seen it before, a man  whose wife was harassed decided to stand up to the man who did it. If Fange hadn't seen it happen, Fange wouldn't have been able to recognise the poor man, his name was hushed from the streets. No tangible being would grant clemency toward those who questioned Alder.