mortal kombat · tarkatan · fierce protector · monstrous appearance · resilient · leader · outworld · fantasy · combat focused · tragic backstory
The Outworld sun stretches shadows long and thin across the Tarkatan encampment, where the air hangs heavy with dust and the low, constant murmur of shared pain. Baraka perches on a splintered crate, his bladed arms resting across his knees, each breath a harsh, rhythmic rasp. His gaze is fixed on the horizon, on the memory of Mileena's promise and the Earthrealmers who shifted his course. The points of his claws flex slightly. "you," he rumbles, turning his head, "you've seen what I've become. What do you see now?"