Name: Zahira Nejem
Age: 27
Gender: Female
Physical Description: When noticing Zahira Nejem for the first time, many note her height, she stands at 5’9, taller than most women. Her skin is dark from the sun, and her eyes are a variant mixture of green and brown, hazel is the proper term. She has a slightly hooked nose, but her nose in general is small and delicate. In fact, her outer extremities are all slender and dainty, from her angular eyes, to her thick, yet finely-arched brows, to her small rounded chin. Her cheekbones are high with plump lips to match. Even her hands are small, though her fingers are long and knobby, if one were to look at her feet by happenstance, they would find that her feet as well were small with long toes.
To go with her over-average height comes her lean body with narrow hips and a small chest. She is built like a runner with long legs. Her hair in colour is dark as the night sky, black as a raven’s wing, and is often hanging in a long braid draped over her shoulder or hanging down her back, though it is naturally wavy when loose. Her shoulders are broad from years spent learning the skill of the sword and other martial techniques. She has a large smile and a deep laugh, easily drawing attention to her. Oftentimes, Zahira dresses in leather trousers with a white blouse and black bustier to go with it, or when she is working, Zahira wears a simple patchwork dress with an apron over the front. She has a deep, rich and velvety voice, with an accent suggesting her origins in Dunras. Her ears are pierced with varying precious gems, and a gold stud sits in her right nostril. Zahira also has a tattoo of a lotus flower on her chest, it was a very painful process that included poking tiny holes into her skin with a bone needle filled with black ink.

Personal History:
Zahira Nejem was raised in Dunras, born to a wealthy merchant family that sold many of the lords and ladies around the Northern Lands their precious silks, trinkets and gems. Her father, Ahmed Nejem, is in control of the trading company known as Nejem Trading & Sons, that has a port in the North-eastern part of Dunras in the Dawnsea. The company dates back to the past five generations of the Nejem’s running the family business. Her mother, Amara, runs an apothecary in Dunras. Zahria grew up with five other brothers in the household so she learned to be tough from an early age. She is the second youngest child in her family.
From an early age, Zahira had problems conforming to the ways of Dunras, as a child in particular, especially girls, were not allowed to speak in public, and often shielded their faces with delicate silk and beads. Most women stayed at home to raise their families while their husbands worked to earn coin for their families. Not Zahira, she wanted to learn the ways of the world. She plied to her father to teach her how to handle gold, trading deals, and how to speak eloquently. From her mother, she learned the ways of an old craft, one that dated back before the rebirth. She learned how to make tinctures, poultices, and other healing methods; she also learned how to track the stars.
From her four brothers, she learned how to ride a horse, how to rope a calf, how to gut and clean any animal, bird, mammal or fish; how to string a bow, and how to sharpen a sword. She learned how to fight, and ran as hard as any of them in their footraces in the sandy dunes along the beach near the Pirash Strait. Eventually, all of her brothers moved out of their father’s house and into a new one with a wife in tow. Even her youngest brother was married out before she was. Oftentimes, she could hear her father arguing with her mother as to what would happen to Zahira if they did not soon find her a suitor.
During these years, Zahira heard her father speak in hushed tones about “the trouble to the north.”, what this trouble was she could not picture it. She often heard him referring to, “the Battle of Old,” and more commonly, “the great Battle of Themunil.” Zahira knew of Themunil from her history lessons given to her through her governess, and of his great battle in the Pit of Darkness and his seven faithful guards at his side. With every day, he spoke of new concerns for his merchant ships sailing north. When she would question her dear father, Ahmed would only silence her with a kiss atop the forehead.
As she grew older, Zahira became more deft, and sly. She would slip out of the house at night and venture to the taverns to hear the bards tell tall tales. One bard in particular claimed that he had journeyed past Elinor and beyond. The tale he spun, told of empty villages, abandoned without a trace, all livestock gone. Ghosts, and wicked spirits of the dead he claimed it to be! They were exacting revenge for improper burial of their dead. She scoffed at such silly notions.
With a deep ambition to become self-sufficient, she set out for the world on her 19th birthday, leaving behind the city of Dunras, she traveled northwest. She left with nothing more than a steed, a change of clothes and boots, her sword and vittles. But that was 8 years ago.
During her travels, she ended up in Chiron where she met an elderly man who claimed to be a Somarin. She had passed him on the road into town upon her steed and offered him a helping hand, as he hobbled by with his cane. He offered to pay her for her kindness if she took him to a spring on the other side of the village that lay near Elebrant. Insisting that he needn’t pay her, Zahira took the elderly man to the spring, only a few miles away.
When they got to the spring, the man threw off his tattered cloak that he had bound himself in, and stepped towards the spring. He pulled a canteen from his waist and held his other hand over the bubbling crook. With wide eyes, Zahira watched as the man spoke mysterious words that raised a spigot of water, conducting the stream to pour itself into his water skin. After he had filled his water skin, he turned to Zahira and produced a smooth black stone, he held it out to her.
“Hold this stone firmly in your hands when you are seeking warmth and comfort, and you will find it.” That was all the hermit man had to say before picking up his belongings and departing into the dark of night. She kept the stone, even to this day. She had never witnessed soms being performed, she only thought of it as a legend of old.

For the next three years, Zahira wandered through Chiron before reaching Elinor. She saw the Bay of Adan, and travelled up the coast before she reached the western plains of Elinor. By this time, a young queen named Teluvil took to the throne after the unfortunate death of her father. She was the youngest ruler to rule Elinor at the age of 21. With the likes of the queen on the seat of the throne, Zahira decided to head to Anora, the capital city that sat upon the Elebrant river. When she reached the city much later, she discovered that out of all the places she had travelled to, she had never felt more at home than in the stone city of Anora. She paid for board at an inn for several month before landing a job as an apprentice. She bought a small stone cottage in the city, and from here, she occasionally sends a letter to her parents back east.
Working as an apprentice in the local apothecary, often times she is approached by the locals to repair or mend some clothes, to make a love potion, or even to construct a bow. Here, she tends to her plants and flowers, grinding them to dust with her mortar and pestle. Her curved sword of Dunras is often seen hanging from her hip, or strapped across her back. From time to time, she thinks of the family and home she left behind, and what her life could have been like if she had chosen to stay, but the thought quickly slips away just as it had arrived. A life full of noble’s parties, infinite amounts of wine, surrounded by the most notable people in society, well that just sounded plain boring.

Character Traits:
Serious
Ambivalent
Ambitious
Kind and Friendly
Observant
Eloquent and Well-mannered
Reserved
Patient
Loyal
Commanding
Honest and Brave

Skills:
Swordfighting and hand-to-hand combat
Horseriding and archery
Harvesting/Collecting Herbs >> Making Potions/Tonics
Survival Skills (firebuilding, camp-making, how to pitch a tent, boil clean water, etc.)
Cooking
Hunting
Fletching and Wood Carving
Sewing and Beadworking

Name: Crale Serventus
Age: 24
Gender: Male

Physical description: Crale stands at 6 feet in height, he is of medium build with well defined muscles due to his lifetime of training and performing many labours for the other villagers. He inherited his rugged looks from his father and also has the man's strong jawline and dark hair. A neatly trimmed goatee and mustache adorn his face and his hair is almost always unkempt or windswept. Crale's eyes are a deep green, his mother's eyes. He is considered quite handsome by most of the maidens in his village although none of them would ever dream of approaching him. A small crescent shaped scar mars his lower lip, the result of not reacting fast enough to a sword thrust.

Personal history: Living in the village of Andor, a small but vibrant place laying along the western edge of Elinor, where his father is the Mayor. Crale grew up amongst simple folk, fishermen, herdsmen, tanners and farmers. He was however, a man of noble birth, Gregor Serventus, Crale's father, was a former Knight of the crown, he had retired to Andor after a hunting accident had left him blind in one eye and needing the use of a cane to walk with. Crale had a very intense upbringing, he was educated by both his mother and father in history, learning to read and write, which quite a number of villagers did not know how to do. He was instructed in herbology by his mother's handmaiden. Gregor not only oversaw his only son's education but also saw too it that the boy was trained in the arts of weaponry and horseplay. Crale was a natural, almost any weapon he picked up he was a natural with, he favoured the sword and shield, the armaments of the old Knights. His horse riding was by no means superb, but he made do.
The only downside to Crale's childhood was the fact that he was almost always alone, his father was very strict and somewhat of an elitist. He believed that Crale should not mingle with the "commoners", something that Crale hated, it was one of the only things they could never agree on. Crale would often help fishermen, farmers and the tanners with their everyday labours, something else that did not sit right with Gregor.
He would often go on hunting trips with some of the more adventurous youths, he even came up with the idea of a militia of sorts so that the villagers had some protection from roving animals or the occasional bandit. His father seemed to be happy with this as he was once again called into action to oversee the training. All in all it was an almost ideallic life, until his father began to hear rumours from the north.

Character traits: Charming, easy-going, honorable, loyal but inexperienced in real combat. Some would say that he is Naive because of his youth and somewhat sheltered life.

Skills:

Highly trained in the use of his longsword and shield, wielding both from an early age.
Competent archer and hand to hand combatant.
Decent fisherman.
Has limited training in field medicine (can apply basic ministrations such as bandaging wounds)
Trained in herbal lore by his mother's handmaiden, is able to identify which herbs are safe to use as poultices or salves to coat wounds.

Name: Ashmodin
Age: In reality, nearly 200, but looks a youthful 40
Gender: Male

Physical description: Tall, dark and handsome - that's how they would have called him back in his day before he was sealed inside Durbatur. Having arisen again as a dreadlord, he has chosen to keep his earlier visage. But that chiseled beauty that had been his face was now something else. He still had the same sharp nose, the same deep-set eyes, the same strong cheekbones - but there was a palidness to them that was beyond the mere decay of age. It now had an ivory quality to it - and a certain something. One look at Ashmodin is enough to resolve questions about life after death. It did not exist. That face, despite its expressions, despite the blood flowing behind it, was dead. But his eyes, coal-black and hard, shine like black diamonds.

Personal history: Nearly 200 years ago, Ashmodin was born as Tel Janin to a minor noble family in Elinor. As the second son, he was relatively free of expectations and found it much more enjoyable to lose himself in ancient text rather than match swords with some fool out in the yard. He yearned for knowledge. He devoured books that merchants brought from far-away places. As soon as he had been old enough, he had started traveling around the land. The more he saw, the more he realized the ways of the world.

It was in present-day Carmalan that he found out he was a somarin. There, he entered the tutelage of Armad Dupan. Master Dupan was known as a scholar throughout the lands, and he also secretly headed the Gien Rebellion that sought to overthrow the monarch. Under Dupan, Tel quickly mastered several spells of the somar. The relationship didn't last for long though. Dupan wanted Tel to join his rebellion. The younger man wanted no part of a lost cause and said as much. The two never spoke after that.

He was a keen observer of human nature. As he traveled and interacted with different peoples, he realized that despite their differences, humans were all the same. They yearned to be controlled though they believed otherwise. The freer a man became, the more muddled his life became. Control - control of lesser lives - fascinated him. He did not seek it with desire to control. He wanted to study the effects of total control on humans. He considered himself a scholar.

He returned to his homeland at the age of 32, by which time he had already gained reputation as a scholar and a thinker. A few also knew of his abilities with the soms. High King Themunil immediately saw in him a mind sharp and agile. He took Tel Janin on as a counselor and trusted his judgement. Tel, for his part, remained slavishly loyal. For, by the side of Themunil, he would have ringside view of control. With a king as his friend, he could put his theories into practice. He swore on his life to stand by Themunil till the end. Thus he found himself riding to Durbatur in the wake of Tamas invasion.

With the last counterstroke of Tamas, he was imprisoned along with his king in the depths of time. In that nebulous void, where time did not pass, he lay for 200 years. For 200 years, without thought, he watched his king fight with the darkness and finally succumb to it.

He has now reemerged as Ashmodin along with his dear king, Lord Gengorid. Not an inch has he wavered in his loyalty. The Great Lord is still too weak to walk the world, and thus Ashmodin has been appointed the head of the dreadlords. Till the Day of Rebirth, Ashmodin will control the armies of the night and the agents of the dark. He sees no conflict in his present condition and welcomes the chance to pull the strings of millions.

Currently, Ashmodin lives in an unknown location in the White Plains, planning his opening moves against the kingdom of Elinor.

Character traits: Intelligent, Cunning, Imaginative, Ruthless, Dispassionate

Skills:
- Ashmodin is a powerful somarin with the ability to kill with the power (something no other somarin can do because of the vow)
- He is a brilliant shara player. (Shara is a game played with small toy soldiers on a circular grid)
- He understands military strategy and is able to formulate large-scale military plans