He was a member of the church chorus.
His honeyed voice earned him a place in their troupe as a child. Thanks to a physiological oddity, his range never dropped with age, and he was able to remain in the role well into adulthood.
And so he kept singing, and thought of little else. Years came and went, until he stood at the cusp of old age.
His voice now lacked the force it had in youth, or the richness. He was pressured to retire, let go due to his age.
Having lived his career, his life now stood empty. With nothing to animate him, he seemed to age overnight.
His hair greyed, and wrinkles appeared. The transformation worried his family.
Unable to sing, he'd lost his reason to live. So strong was his attachment to his former career, he wore the chorus robes even in retirement.
Age continued to ravage his body, until soon his mind, too, failed. He grew so senile, he mistook the mule he kept for a son.
He soon became a burden on his family, for a man who can't tell his son from mule can't care for himself.
No longer working, he had no income, yet it still cost money to feed him. "Enough is enough," they began to say.
And so he was ousted once again. This time by his own family.
Even senile, he understood. With tragic clarity, he understood.
It had happened again. He'd been thrown out. Was it so criminal to grow old?
He set out for a place where people gather, the mule he considered a son in tow, still dressed in choral robes.
He began to sing in his creaking voice. Barely a whisper emerged, and even that was garbled. But the passion was unmistakable. It was his appeal to the world.
I am still alive, it exclaimed.
In time people gathered, no doubt moved by the old man's heartfelt performance. Passerby would stop to listen, and leave some coin.
Though perhaps ungainly, he stood before them a bona fide singer. Senile or no, he was happy.
But audiences are fickle, and the novelty of the old man's performance soon wore thin, leaving only a creaking voice behind.
In a few days' time, no one spared him a second look. He would soon be wholly unwanted again.
No matter how weak his mind grew, one memory never faded: the desolation of being discarded.
He would not suffer that again.
That was when it appeared before him. A strange Chalice, hanging in the air. It spoke:
"Pay the price and you shall have your wish."
The relic of legend had chosen him, yet its words could not reach the old man. Age had dulled his mind, after all.
The old man's wish was granted, though he stood there unawares. It was his "son" beside him who answered the Chalice.
The mule he kept in tow.
Motivated by senility though it was, the mule was thankful for the love the old man showed.
It longed to repay him, and so it offered up its flesh to see its owner's...no, its father's wish granted. To restore the voice he pined for.
The man shed years of age in moments. The mulish traits he grew were likely his "son's" influence. What's more, his urge to sing brought further changes. The mule-man's body took the form of a musical instrument.
It was the birth of a strange new instrument that brayed like a mule. Soon, the mule-man drew curious eyes once more. He was a musician again.
He was happy, until he noticed his boy had vanished.
His panic, though, was short-lived. He found his "son" soon enough.
This time, it was a cast-out dog. His body and voice had regained their youth, but not his mind.
With dog in tow, the mule-man sung his asinine songs for passerby.
But even the strangest curiosities lose their novelty with time, and the crowd's interest waned.
Once more he fell into despair. Had he been cast aside? Was he unneeded?
His voice was steeped in sorrow, but the most impassioned plea becomes clichéd with repetition. More tragic still, his faulty memory kept him from seeing that.
As if to compound tragedy, the same scene then played out. The Chalice appeared, and posed the same bargain verbatim.
Again it failed to reach him. That role fell once more to his "son."
For the dog, too, was grateful for the father's love it had been given. It offered up its body to repay the man.
The mule-man's mouth opened wide, and from his throat emerged a canine face. It sang in a harmony of howls and brays-an instrument like no other.
And the crowds returned.
Sadness and loss gripped the man a third time, now. Until he found his son: this time a cat.
Again he forgot his prior child, and again the cycle was repeated.
The harmony of mule and dog grew stale, the man despaired, and the chalice appeared.
The thankful cat offered up its flesh in sacrifice. From the mule's mouth sprang a dog's face, from the dog's a cat. And so a harmony of three species was born.
Still the crowds grew bored.
The man's next son was a cockerel. It heard the Chalice's offer in his stead, and offered up its form. Mule, hound, cat, and rooster now sang in concert.
But the cycle ended there.
The man's form was now so monstrous that none would listen to his strangely beautiful song. They were too repulsed.
He was finally, irrevocably discarded.
And so this curious monster wanders the land still, in search of anyone who will listen to its song.
Charge attack - A charge towards the characters, it will jump up beforehand. Use a shield offering to knock it down when it hits you.
Mortars - Two different versions, one where they will go straight forward in a barrage of four, the other where they will be fired randomly during the roar.
Roar - A roar that stumbles your character. It has a charge up so run when it raises on its hind legs with an orb in its front legs.
Rapid-fire - Two different versions, one where it fires directly ahead, another where it rotates its head. Get behind it and you should be safe.
Barrier - A barrier that blocks ranged attacks. If it charges and hits your shield, the barrier breaks.
