Little is known of Trunq’s origins, and less still of his destiny. Once a slave elephant wandering the desert, his memory is broken — the dreams that should guide him remain buried beneath centuries of silence. Yet wherever Trunq walks, the ground trembles with the weight of paradox: he is comic and cosmic, foolish and wise, corrupt and incorruptible all at once.
Those who meet him cannot decide whether he is a prophet or a clown. His tusks are heavy with unseen meaning, his words a mixture of satire and scripture. He delights in riddles, yet behind the laughter lingers a sense that Trunq carries something larger — a memory waiting to awaken, a prophecy waiting to be fulfilled.
Trunq is not savior nor destroyer, but something in between. He dances in and out of empire, mocking its pomp, exposing its rot, hinting at paths others cannot see. His role in the Gospel of the Animals is not yet clear — perhaps even to himself.
