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[CHAR] SANDSTRIDERS: A Lost Land
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Harwa Ahmestep
"No soul is irredeemable. None are beyond the forgiveness of the Great Father."
___________________________________ P R O F I L E Age 59 Race Human Sex Male Height 5'11" Weight 220lb Alignment Lawful Good Class Slayer Level 1 Health Points 32 ___________________________________ I N V E N T O R Y - Water Skin. - Bed roll. - Begging Bowl. - Flask of distilled liquor. - String of Prayer Beads. - Loaf of Bread. - Bronze Face Mask, broken. ____________________________________ E Q U I P M E N T - A two handed Twaran Battle-Axe. - The Shafrat Alrahma, a thin curved dagger, used to kill mortally wounded opponents. - Tarnished Bronze Scale Mail, with brightly coloured ragged arming garments. ____________________________________ A T T R I B U T E S Athletics: 16 (Class bonus +2, +4) Dexterity: 10 Intelligence: 10 Wisdom: 10 Charisma: 12 (+2) Constitution: 16 (+6) ___________________________________ S K I L L S (A) Strength: 6 (Class bonus +4, +2) (A) Agility: 0 (D) Stealth: 0 (D) Acrobatics: 0 (D) Trickery: 0 (I) History: 0 (I) Nature: 0 (I) Arcana: 0 (I) Religion: 1 (+1) (W) Perception: 0 (W) Medicine: 0 (W) Survival: 0 (C) Persuasion: 1 (+1) (C) Deception: 2 (+2) (C) Intimidation: 2 (+2) (C) Performance: 0 | ____________________________________________________________________________ A P P E A R A N C E Harwa Ahmestep is a heavyset Tawran man, who is rapidly leaving his middle years behind him and entering his old age. The effects of the passage of time are evident all over his person. His long mane of coiled braids has lightened from black, to grey, and at last to white. It stands stark against his dark skin, and though time does not whiten that, it does not escape its grasp unscathed. A spiderweb of scars and wrinkles stretches across its surface, testament to a lifetime of experiences. His physique gives the impression of solidity. Though not overly tall, Harwa more than makes up for it in his girth, with wide shoulders, thick arms, and a heavy belly. In his youth, he was hard and chiselled all over, his body a tool forged for violence. Age has softened and blunted him, but there is steel at his core still, and muscle beneath the fat. Like his body, his face is well fleshed, with full lips and a broad flat nose. Harwa was not considered a particularly handsome man, even in his younger years. A beard hides most of his chin and jowls, it is normally scruffy and unkempt, much like his hair. The eyes that look out of this worn and craggy face are dark brown, warm, glinting with humour... at least, that's what they look like most of the time. Sometimes there is another man looking out from that kindly old face, one with eyes colder than a desert night. One who has the eyes of a killer. Harwa dresses slovenly, in brightly coloured but much patched and repaired garb. It is the motley uniform of the Tariqa Al-Shahadh, the Order of the Mendicants. Holy warriors of Sharaqan, they distain all property and instead live by begging, they are recognisable by their brightly coloured patched robes, sewn from many different coloured rags. His armour, made of overlapping plates of bronze scales, is dull and tarnished, though still servable enough to offer Harwa protection. ____________________________________________________________________________ P E R S O N A L I T Y Philosophers and scholars of the world are in frequent disagreement as to the fundamental nature of man. According to one camp, humans are savage beings, violent animals whom are only tamed through the application of civilisation and society. To others, hatred and cruelty are traits that we are taught by the harsh realties of the world, and our truer nature is that of the innocent guileless child, fundamentally good. Harwa is inclined to agrees with the latter, and his greatest fear is that the former are correct. He believes that there is no one that is not worth saving. That there is grace in every person, no matter what they have done. That redemption can always be earned. In his person, Harwa is kind and gregarious. Always willing to share despite having very little himself, and equally open to receiving hospitality with graciousness and enthusiasm. Despite the somewhat ascetic nature of his order, he has an immense appetite and enjoyment of the physical pleasures of life, in particular food and drink. For a supposed beggar warrior, Harwa eats rather well. He is pious, without being dogmatic or taking himself and his faith too seriously. His lively sense of humour frequently makes pointed jokes at his own expense, and when Harwa laughs, he laughs loudly and deeply. He is a loud person in general, from his bright multicoloured garments, to his deep and booming voice and outgoing personality. It is rare that he is raised to anger, but should it occur, it is a terrible sight to behold. ____________________________________________________________________________ B A C K S T O R Y For all the loudness about Harwa Ahmestep, there is one thing he is more definitely quiet about - his past. There are some things however, that would be evident to anyone who had the opportunity to observe him for a decent length of time. Firstly, he speaks Tawrish like a native and has a noticeable accent when switches to Equarish or Urkun. It can easily be assumed that he was born there, or at least grew up in the lands of the Maatrho God-Kings. Though his familiarity with the diverse languages of Dahard imply that he has some familiarity with the region, despite only being recently arrived. Secondly, he clearly does not share the faith of his country men, for he is of the Tariqa Al-Shahadh, the Order of the Mendicants. They are beggar warriors, sworn to protect those in need and live off of the charity of others. And they do not subscribe to the cult of the Maatrho, instead they follow the teachings of Sharaq and worship the Great Father Arhanphast. If you were ask Harwa how a Tawran native came to live in the service of a foreign God, he would be more than happy to tell you. The faith of Sharaq came to him at the lowest point in his life, when he had lived a bad and selfish existence that had led him to nothing but ruin and misery. He had been saved by a holy man who saw something good in him still, and had given him a new life though he himself had no worldly goods of his own. Ever since he had been inspired to live by such an example. It is a good story, and Harwa has gotten better at telling it with each recounting. The truth of these events are now distorted to the point it no longer hurts to tell. If you got to know Harwa a little better still, you might catch glimpses of the painful past behind that well worn story. He lets them slip sometimes, normally late at night when he's had a drink and his thoughts turn sombre and a little melancholic. He was married once, back in Tawr. They had a farm and a family. They grew fields of cotton and grain, raised goats and girls. All his children were daughters, he still smiles ruefully when he thinks of them. At first they were happy, but it did not last. He drank, too much and too often, and back in those days Harwa was much more... violent... when he drank. It all ended badly. Before that he was a soldier. It's evident enough by his martial prowess, even at his advanced age. He still carries himself like one, even though its been years since he wore that uniform. Years since he hid his face behind that bronze mask. But for all your prying, you would not get him to talk about it, despite his normally gregarious nature. Speaking of it makes him remember. And he does not want to remember what he did. ____________________________________________________________________________ M O T I V A T I O N A N D O U T L O O K Harwa is drawn to Dahard to do as he had been trying to do since he left his old lives behind and joined the Tariqa Al-Shahadh. He is desperately trying to atone. And he feels that Dahard is the place where he can best do this. ____________________________________________________________________________ M I S C E L L A N E O U S Harwa's Holy Order, the Tariqa Al-Shahadh, although a martial organisation focused on fighting and combat, distains the taking of life unnecessarily. Its members are sworn to try and resolve all disputes peacefully before resorting to violence, and only kill in defence of one's own life or the lives of others. The one exception to this is in the use of the Shafrat Alrahma, the mercy blade, which a warrior may use to end the suffering of a mortally wounded opponent, as a final mark of respect. |
Namihra Ambreen al-Reza
Embrace the storm, for within it, strength is found.
 ___________________________________ P R O F I L E Age 24 Race Human Sex Female Height 5'9'' Weight 145 lbs Alignment Chaotic Neutral Class Warrior Monk/Mystic Monk Level 1 Planar Lineage Water & Air Health Points 24 ___________________________________ I N V E N T O R Y - Camping supplies - Fire starter - Torch - Water flask - Provisions (x2 days) - Coin purse (filled) - Vial of poison - Vial of antitoxin - Whetstone - Throwing daggers (x6) - Rope/grappling hook - Hand mirror - Empty bottle (x2) - Empty sack (x2) - Towel - Extra clothes - Medicinal supplies - Map ____________________________________ E Q U I P M E N T - Scimitar Sword (Steel) - Forearm Guards (Steel) - Shin Guards (Leather) - Wait Guard (Iron) ____________________________________ A T T R I B U T E S Athletics: 14 (+2 / +2 Class bonus) Dexterity: 14 (+4) Intelligence: 12 (+2) Wisdom: 13 (+2/ +1 Class bonus) Charisma: 10 Constitution: 12 (+2) ___________________________________ S K I L L S (A) Strength: 2 (+2 Class bonus) (A) Agility: 2 (+1 / +1 Class bonus) (D) Stealth: 1 (+1) (D) Acrobatics: 1 (+1 Class bonus) (D) Trickery: 0 (I) History: 0 (I) Nature: 1 (+1) (I) Arcana: 1 (+1) (I) Religion: 1 (+1) (W) Perception: 1 (+1) (W) Medicine: 0 (W) Survival: 1 (+1) (C) Persuasion: 0 (C) Deception: 1 (+1) (C) Intimidation: 0 (C) Performance: 0 | ____________________________________________________________________________ APPEARANCE Namihra has a slender frame, but harbors well-toned muscle beneath her armor. She is above average height for a woman and has dark, piercing eyes and waist-long, thick, dark hair which she either braids or leaves down, though it is not often seen since she wears a headscarf similar in appearance to a hijab. She wears tan pants and a blue jacket over a white blouse with gold trimming, which supposedly belonged to her mother. ____________________________________________________________________________ BACKSTORY Namihra was born into a small religious sect in Qadir, a humble settlement in the outskirts of Tawr, near the Esaadi border. As with all territories within Tawr, those inhabiting Qadir are expected to maintain a fanatic devotion to the Maatrho as their living deity and worship the Dhahit and his pantheon. Due to the settlement’s proximity to Esaad however, it was inevitable that news of the prophet Sharaq’s teachings would be brought over by a stray traveler or caravan. According to this new religion, the faithful of Qadir were misguided in their fealty to the Maatrho. The Tawrish pantheon was said to be a distortion of the truth of the one true god, Arhanphast. Most refused to pay any mind to these tales, but a few chose to heed the words of the prophet. These few established a hidden religious sect of Sharaqism within Tawr, the first foothold Esaad had ever been capable of establishing in its neighboring lands. Those chosen few who shared their creed with Esaad became enlightened to the truth of the false gods they had previously worshiped. While this covert group kept mostly to themselves, they were comprised of members of various social standing including plane touched warriors, swordsmen, and merchants alike, as well as the odd peasant and emissary. As such, news of their affront to the Maathro and his domain was eventually leaked to the Tawran overlords, who became enraged by the blatant treason of these heretics. Tawr responded by sending vicious solders to reenforce the Maatrho’s will over the settlement and show no mercy toward any who dared defy the true gods and lived in blasphemy. Few Sharaqa devotees survived the slaughter. Those who managed to escape their death fled to the northern forests in the disputed territory between the borders of Tawr and Esaad to tend to their wounds and regroup. Among the survivors, an infant (Namihra) was rescued, but her parents were not granted the same fate. Both were skilled mages, her father capable of manipulating the element of water and her mother, the element of air. They sacrificed their lives so that their daughter and a small group of like-minded peers were successful in their withdrawal. Tensions between the two lands grew more volatile and in the over twenty years that have passed since the skirmish, Tawr has kept a tight grip over Qadir with harsh sanctions and vigilant soldiers maintaining order and ensuring no uprises ever stem from the settlement again. During this span of time, those who fled Qadir have been struggling to survive without a stable settlement. Reduced in strength, the nomadic group became radicalized by their homeland’s cruel response and where they were once a predominantly peaceful faction, might now be better classified as religious zealots consumed with avenging their fallen comrades and enacting the Great Father’s will by dismantling the false Tawrish gods. Well trained in the martial arts and swordsmanship, as well as a proficient hunter and tracker, Namihra is the last among their number with a planar lineage and as such, was groomed to become Arhanphast’s chosen warrior against their enemies. Blinded by their rage, her caregivers raised her as a weapon, honing her skills to the best of their abilities with the expectation that once she reached maturity, Namihra would drive a devastating blow against Tawrish forces. As a child, she took these responsibilities to heart, fully believing in the narrative she was fed, and dedicated herself to the cause. As she grew however, Namihra began to understand the depth of what their plan meant for her and became jaded by the impossible outcome. As the years passed, she came to realize she was little beyond a mere tool and refused to forfeit her own autonomy. After devising a credible reason to gain distance from the group so that she might escape the fate they had tied her to, Namihra put her plan into action at the age of 22. She succeeded in securing her leader’s blessing to depart from the group by promising to return after further developing her arcane abilities to strengthen their attack against the Tawrans. Or so they believed. In truth, Namihra has no intentions of keeping her promise, though she does have an interest in augmenting her magical prowess. She has been traveling and scavenging within the lands of Dahard on her own for the past two years. ____________________________________________________________________________ PERSONALITY Namihra is bold and direct with an ability to easily detect manipulation. She condemns any kind of malicious deception, but resorts to it when necessary to avoid danger. She is cautious and generally distrusting of others, loyal first and foremost to herself. Impatient, she prefers not to rely on others for an outcome she is invested in. Resourceful from having survived in the wilds throughout her life, she is also decisive and confident. While she was raised in a religious environment, she is not overtly faithful and takes much of the teachings as one would a child’s story, though she values and respects the tenets of Sharaqism. ____________________________________________________________________________ MOTIVATION AND OUTLOOK Since departing from the clutches of the Sharaqa zealots that raised her, Namihra has had the privilege of choosing her own fate for the first time in her life and has delighted in this freedom. Determined to never fall victim to anyone else’s control again, her current aim is to further develop her planar abilities and find her place in the world. ____________________________________________________________________________ CLASS DETAILS While Namihra has an innate affinity with planar magic, she has no refined skills due to a lack of any instruction or arcane resources such as scrolls, books, etc. Accordingly, she has only a rudimentary understanding of how to manipulate the elements, relying on instinct alone, and has no advanced technique or spells available to her. This is why her class is listed as Warrior Monk/Mystic Monk. She was given the class bonuses based off of the Warrior Monk class. |
Gunther Captain, Infantry (Retired)
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2 hrs ago
Kichirō Takagi
"The mind is like water. When it's turbulent, it's difficult to see. When it's calm, everything becomes clear." - Kichirō Takagi
 ___________________________________ P R O F I L E Age 30 Race Human Gender Male Height 68” (172.7cm) Weight 152 Lbs (69Kg) Alignment Lawful Good Class Mystic Monk Level 1 Planar Lineage Water Health Points 26 ___________________________________ I N V E N T O R Y - long violet colored silk robes with silver decorative trim. - Bō stick - two Tong Fa sticks - Tabi (One piece sock/boot made of cotton around the ankle and leather around the foot.) - small pack containing items needed for spell casting - flasks of oil - food - money - candles - incense - flasks of water - flint and tinder - parchment - quill and ink - spell book - bed roll - small pouch filled with cherry blossom flower petals - small pouch containing powder form of dried puffer fish livers - small vial and stopper containing seaweed extract - leather cord with a piece of Jade attached. Worn as a necklace ____________________________________ E Q U I P M E N T - Bō Staff - Tong Fa (PR24) - Unarmed combat - Cloth ____________________________________ A T T R I B U T E S Points: 12 Athletics: 12 (Class Bonus +2) Dexterity: 12 (+2) Intelligence: 16 (+4 / +2 Class Bonus) Wisdom: 14 (+3 / +1 Class Bonus) Charisma: 10 Constitution: 13 (+3) ___________________________________ S K I L L S Points: 8 (A) Strength: 0 (A) Agility: 2 (+2) (D) Stealth: 0 (D) Acrobatics: 2 (+1 / +1 Class Bonus) (D) Trickery: 0 (I) History: 0 (I) Nature: 0 (I) Arcana: 2 (+1 / +1 Class Bonus) (I) Religion: 2 (+2) (W) Perception: 1 (+1) (W) Medicine: 1 (+1) (W) Survival: 0 (C) Persuasion: 0 (C) Deception: 0 (C) Intimidation: 0 (C) Performance: 0 | ____________________________________________________________________________ APPEARANCE Kichirō is 5'8" (68"), slender and lean. He is bald with a small patch of hair at the back of his head forming a braided ponytail roughly 18" in length. Kichirō Takagi is considered a handsome man with well-defined facial features. He wears a thin goatee, black in color. His eyecolor is brown with hints of a green and orange. Kichirō wears long violet colored silk robes with silver decorative trim. He occasionally wears a tanned cowhide leather vest with lamb's fur lining and a similar cap, when the weather is inclement. ____________________________________________________________________________ BACKSTORY Kichirō was raised in the Western Akanan province of Zouzhou in a small village known as Chunsan. Akana is located east across the sea from Tawr. Kichirō's grandfather suffered a defeat at the hands of a member of a rival family. His actions brought shame upon the family. As a result, the grandfather's eldest son was obligated to give up his eldest son to the local monastery to become a monk/priest in an effort to rid the shame cast upon the family name. As part of his commitment to the temple, Kichirō then had to swear off his family, severing all ties with them. Regardless of the lack of contact with the family, they remain full of pride for their son who now roams the world helping others. From an early age, Kichirō was destined to become a Sharaqan monk. He has lived at the Monastery since he was five years old and has been studying unarmed martial combat skills since he was six years old. Most of his teachings have been religious in nature; focusing on the loving graces of Arhanphast and his followers. He was taught to sacrifice his own desires over the needs of those less fortunate. He feels no material attachments to this world. He has harnessed his inner energy through the element of water, a trait handed down through his ancestry. Kichirō's purpose is to heal as many people as he can in this world. Much of his time is spent in deep meditation communing with the spirits and strengthening his energies. This is where he gains the ability to cast any of several different spells. He maintains a book where he annotates his spells in his pack. Each time he encounters a new spell, he must spend time focusing on this spell which is transcribed into his book. After several hours of practice, he can hone this new spell and use it when needed. When Kichirō was twenty-five he took a vow of silence for one year. When his year was up, he successfully completed the vow and was allowed to leave the temple at will. He remained with the temple for an additional four years before he took up a personal quest. With the monastery leaders' permission, he began a quest to heal as many people in the outside world as possible. During his time in the Sharaqan Temple, Kichirō has studied Arhanphast and the teachings of Sharaqism, as well as armed (Bō stick and Tong fa) and unarmed combat as a means of allowing his energy to flow through his being and his spirit. He also practices caligraphy, herbalism, alchemy and potion making. ____________________________________________________________________________ PERSONALITY Kichirō is focused and reticent. He cares for all living beings and is saddened by loss and hardship. His sadness is not crippling and Kichirō will do whatever he can to allay the suffering. He is soft spoken; reserving speech only for when questioned. ____________________________________________________________________________ MOTIVATION AND OUTLOOK Kichirō has taken an oath to the great father, Arhanphast and the teachings of Sharaqism. Kichirō has a positive outlook on life and is willing to give the benefit of the doubt to everyone. If others betray him he feels he can no longer trust them until they prove trustworthy again. ____________________________________________________________________________ SPELLBOOK Blessing of Healing - Kichirō must be focused and within 10 feet of a wounded friend and heal a small amount of their wounds. There is no material component for this spell. Kichirō must utter or think "Sano" and focus upon the recipient of this healing spell. It is a low-level spell which will stop bleeding, in some manner; maybe cauterizing the wound and restore breathing. The wound is still exposed and subject to infection. The reverse of this spell enables Kichirō to inflict a small amount of damage upon an enemy. Kichirō must utter or think, "Lanio" in order to inflict a small wound upon an enemy. The wound will ooze with blood and is subject to possible infection. Suitengu's Surge is a water spell allowing Kichirō to cast a ray of lethargy-inducing energy which numbs the reflexes of the target. The material component for this spell is dried puffer fish liver crushed to a powder form. Kichirō must utter or think "Relaxo Non Illud Faciunt" while focusing on the target of this spell, then blow a pinch of powdered puffer fish liver at him/her. The powder does not need to reach the target, just blown in the general direction. The target will feel as though they are enduring one of the worst hangovers of their lives. Their will to continue depletes sifnificantly. The natural instinct for self-preservation is seriously degraded. The weight of their weapons feels like four times heavier than normal. The effects of this spell only last five minutes at best but can provide sufficient time for an ally to subdue an opponent. Every application to the same target gets progressively shorter duration of effect. A second application of this spell would only last two and a half minutes, and a third application would last one minute and fifteen seconds. Strike of Flowing Waters is a water spell allowing Kichirō to bestow the power of the swiftly flowing river, so the target's attacks flow through and around armor. increases chance to hit and damage, negating effects of armor. Kichirō can apply this spell in two manners. The first is to place three drops of Seaweed extract upon the friend's weapon to imbue it temporarily with this spell for up to two hours. Kichirō must also utter, "Peto Vere Secta" while placing the drops on the weapon. The second method involves placing the three drops of Seaweed extract upon the friend's tongue and uttering or thinking, "Peto Vere Secta" to temporarily imbue the friend with the ability to always strike his opponent where his armor is not protecting him/her regardless of weapon used. The Seaweed Extract has a foul bitter taste and has been known to cause a few to vomit from its terrible after taste. Mend the Spirit is a water spell which allows Kichirō to dispel any magical effect from the target. This spell works on inanimate objects that have been cursed or magically enchanted. Kichirō must hold or place his hand upon the object and utter or think "Obigo Magus" for this spell to work. The spell is instantaneous and will not prevent future spells being cast upon the item. Once the spell is removed, it is gone permanently unless someone recasts the spell. Kichirō is currently studying the following spells: Ebbing Strength - buff/debuff Takes energy from an opponent and gives it to a friend. Gift of the Kami (Spirits) - Buff Enhances a friend's combat abilities. Strength of the Thunders - Buff makes a friend twice his/her size. |
POOHEAD189 The Abmin
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Amal Kalfir Mansur
I have heard audacity is the key to all victories. If this is true, why am I not Sultan?
 ___________________________________ P R O F I L E Age 27 Race Human Sex Male Height 6ft Weight 185 lbs Alignment Chaotic Neutral Class Thief Level 1 Health Points 24 ___________________________________ I N V E N T O R Y 40 feet of rope, 18 foot length of chain, camel hide sack, half a pound of dates, water flask, bedroll, lockpicking implements, tinder box ... ____________________________________ E Q U I P M E N T - Scimitar - Long Jambiya Dagger - Abs (If inapplicable leave blank or mark as NA.) ____________________________________ A T T R I B U T E S Athletics: 14 (10+4) Dexterity: 16 (10+4+2) Intelligence: 10 Wisdom: 10 Charisma: 12 (10+2) Constitution: 12 (10+2) ___________________________________ S K I L L S (A) Strength: 1 (A) Agility: 2 (1+1) (D) Stealth: 1 (D) Acrobatics: 2 (1+1) (D) Trickery: 3 (1+2) (I) History: 0 (I) Nature: 0 (I) Arcana: 0 (I) Religion: 0 (W) Perception: 0 (W) Medicine: 0 (W) Survival: 1 (+1) (C) Persuasion: 0 (C) Deception: 1 (+1) (C) Intimidation: 1 (+1) (C) Performance: 0 | ____________________________________________________________________________ APPEARANCE Amal has sly face, a well cut chin, and the grin of a jackal. His body is lithe but strong, many long years spent laboring, climbing buildings, and fighting for his life has given him a rippling physique. His hair and eyes are the same dark coloring as most of his people, his skin a baked, golden brown. He has no wealth, and so he adorns what parts of his body he can in fake jewelry, though even that is few and far between. What jewelry he finds tends to be real, and it tends to be sold very quickly. His garb is usually in pale, airy pants and a vest of either deep or loud colors, though he is partial to red and gold. His feet are as callused as a boxer's knuckles, so he rarely needs shoes, though he has some sandals when the need arises. ____________________________________________________________________________ BACKSTORY Amal Kalfir Mansur was born to a common woman. A woman with little means a few too many romps with important men, or men she believed was important, which could be any man that owned more than one pair of clothing. Amal couuldn't guess who his father was. Perhaps it was the man responsible for his first memories, a bearded face with kind eyes, but he would never know. Amal had recollections of siblings. A crying girl, a wide eyed boy, the vague face of another boy who he used to play with in the street. All of that changed when he was seven, perhaps eight. He couldn't remember. His age mattered little to him at the time. All he remembered was the fact his mother sold him into servitude to pay her debts. The man who bought him owned a brothel, and Amal served as the errand boy and servant to the guests. The girls treated him like a puppy and protected him from the angry patrons, until one day he ruined a guest's day two years after his service and was sold again, this time as a laborer for the Emir, breaking rocks for three years in the sweltering sun. He grew accustomed to the whip, but not the servitude. A teen is a teen, regardless of the shackles he endured. This rebellious nature came at an auspicious time, and ironically, it allowed him to escape through sheer bloody audacity. No one figured the easy going boy would murder one of the sleeping guards and lift his keys, but it was done. By the time they realized he was gone, there was naught a trace of him. Amal fled the city on the next caravan, meeting an old peddlar who masqueraded as his uncle. He had Amal steal a few things from some of his rivals in the caravan, and by the time they had made it to their destination, the peddlar was a far richer man than when they had set out. Amal had eaten hearty, and he evidently had found a new career for himself. He spent the next year living on the streets, stealing what he needed to survive, but delivering the peddlar stolen merchandise to gain some extra coin, which he promptly spent on the fairer sex. Life in the brothel had purged him of how many men treated loose women as objects, and so he treated women as investments instead, until he began to lose quite a bit of money and decided to go the quick and easy approach of charming and splitting. As for his career, he decided to make the lucrative decision to move up from pickpocketing to grave robbing and outright banditry, until he realized the risks were high and yet not too exciting except in a few notable exceptions, and so after a few years, he decided tomb diving was more his forte. ____________________________________________________________________________ PERSONALITY There has never been one so addicted to danger, which is strange because he also wants an incredibly comfortable life. Oddly enough, these extremes make him oddly easy going with life's misfortunes. He takes the good with the bad and finds the humor in most situations. Amal is very likeable. Charming, quick witted, funny, and smart. He is also a cold blooded killer and a greedy opportunist, who really only restrains his knife from people he is paid to protect, when it benefits him, and women unless they threaten him. ____________________________________________________________________________ MOTIVATION AND OUTLOOK Optional ____________________________________________________________________________ MISC ... |
Kashvi The Navigator
All rivers flow to the same sea
[  ___________________________________ P R O F I L E Age 30 Race Human Sex Female Height 5’4 Weight 130 lb Alignment Chaotic Good Class Mystic Monk Level (All players start at level 1.) Planar Lineage Air Health Points 20 ___________________________________ I N V E N T O R Y Compass Astrolabe Quill Ink vials Parchment Charcoal Sample jars Bedroll Flint and Tinder Lock picks Knife Rope and hook ____________________________________ E Q U I P M E N T - Hands and Feet - Shortsword and sword breaker - Bow and arrow - Leathers (If inapplicable leave blank or mark as NA.) ____________________________________ A T T R I B U T E S Athletics: 14 Dexterity: 14 Intelligence: 14 Wisdom: 11 Charisma: 12 Constitution: 10 ___________________________________ S K I L L S (A) Strength: 0 (A) Agility: 1 (D) Stealth: 1 (D) Acrobatics: 2 (D) Trickery: 1 (I) History: 1 (I) Nature: 1 (I) Arcana: 2 (I) Religion: 0 (W) Perception: 0 (W) Medicine: 0 (W) Survival: 0 (C) Persuasion: 0 (C) Deception: 1 (C) Intimidation: 0 (C) Performance: 0 | ____________________________________________________________________________ APPEARANCE A small neat looking woman with dark brown skin and glossy black hair. She has the sharp classical features of a religious statue with bright lively eyes. Years of hard travel in exotic locations have given her skin a warm golden glow. Though not a tall woman she is lithe and powerful with lean hard muscles toned by toil and travel. ____________________________________________________________________________ BACKSTORY Born into one of the dynastic families of Baneghora, Kashvi’s early life was one of wealth and privilege. She received an excellent education in history and the arts as befitted a young aristocrat. With five older brothers and a tradition of military service she received a smattering of martial training almost by accident. As she grew older her parents , or more accurately the servants in charge of raising her, disapproved of such masculine pursuits and forbade her to continue training, forcing her instead to focus on needle point and other more appropriate skills. Fortunately for Kashvi one of her history tutors, an old Nekhi monk Shrisni Vastu, saw her unhappiness and introduced her to mallapatyyu, an ancient martial art practiced by monastic orders. Under the guise of religious instruction, he arranged for her to be trained and she soon excelled in both its physical and mystical components. During these years Shrini Vastu became more than a wise sage and something of a father figure to the young Kashvi. His life before becoming a tutor had been an active one and he told her many tales of his life, as a soldier, a brigand, and an explorer. He had been badly wounded in a skirmish at sea which had forced him to seek employment as a tutor. Despite being kept close to home by his infirmity, he regularly received letters from other wanderers who had formed something of a society of adventurers. The work of Shrisni Vastu’s life, apart from educating his upstart young pupil, was to compile the contents of these letters, maps, sketches and descriptions of far away places into a great codex which he hoped one day to present to the Queen. Infrequently, these correspondents visited Shrisni Vastu and they would sit up long into the night swapping stories and gossip, while a rapt Kashvi pretended not to be paying attention. These tales fired the young girls zeal, both for her historical studies and her martial training, as well as instilling a desire to see far off places and strange sights. Like most aristocratic girls her parents arranged a marriage for her when she was an infant and as the date approached she began to grow increasingly resentful of being condemned to the role of wife to some empty headed princeling, her only role to smile politely at dinner and pop out the occasional heir. Her parents were not ignorant of this desire, and watched her as carefully as they could without actually imprisoning her. Despite their efforts, the night before her wedding, she cut her hair short, dressed herself as a commoner and climbed over the palace wall, sneaking down to the docks and stowing away aboard a trading dhow that sailed with the morning tide. When she was discovered she pretended to be a boy and was granted passage in exchange for her labor. For the next ten years she traveled, exploring and adventuring, sending letters back to Shrisni Vastu to add to his Codex of the Known World. ____________________________________________________________________________ PERSONALITY Kashvi is an energetic and outgoing person. Always ready to lend a hand to those who need it, always on the lookout for some new adventure or sight to see. She can be overly exuberant and long periods alone have imbued her with the tendency to talk to herself even in the presence of others. Despite years of wandering, she tends to assume the best about people and follows the Nekhish tenets of being truthful, honest and loyal. ____________________________________________________________________________ MOTIVATION AND OUTLOOK Wanderlust is a defining feature of Kashvi’s outlook. She is always keen to see the other side of the hill, the other shore of an ocean, or another strange temple. ____________________________________________________________________________ MISC ... |
I am Kashvi Prinkani Suva Singh
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Dalani
I can see the greed in your eyes to harvest the minerals on my head. You can ask me for advice on how to find some or you can threaten me and pick them up from within your guts. Your choice!
 ___________________________________ P R O F I L E Age 32 Race Ayiralite Sex Male Height 6'1" Weight 245 lbs Alignment Chaotic good Class Archer Level 1 Planar Lineage Earth Health Points 28 ___________________________________ I N V E N T O R Y - Water flask - Provisions for a day or two (bread, salt meat) - Coin purse (half empty) - Bed roll - A few small, shiny stones probably not worth anything. He picked them up because he liked them. - Large cloak for cold nights - Clothes - Flint & tinder - Primitive robe, suited as a standalone dress but also compatible with his armor ____________________________________ E Q U I P M E N T - His longbow and a quiver full of arrows can be considered his primary means of hurting others. - Said longbow would be less effective just using ordinary arrows. Dalani is not hesitant to add some magical enhancements to his projectiles, making them more deadly or more useful for other applications. - He wears armor on the more exposed parts of his body, trying to achieve a compromise between protection and comfort. It is a strange material: jet black, heavy and more coarse than any steel. Whether its property to shatter into pieces and thereby no longer providing any protection instead of buckling and thus impeding its wearer's movement upon impact of blunt weapons is a blessing or a curse is up to debate, but it's interesting still. Is this an ongoing experiment or an evil looking improvisation only one of his kind could produce ? ____________________________________ A T T R I B U T E S Athletics: 11 (+1) Dexterity: 15 (+2 class, +3) Intelligence: 14 (+2 race, +2) Wisdom: 12 (+2) Charisma: 10 Constitution: 14 (+4) ___________________________________ S K I L L S (A) Strength: 3 (+3) (A) Agility: 2 (+2) (D) Stealth: 0 (D) Acrobatics: 0 (D) Trickery: 0 (I) History: 0 (I) Nature: 1 (+1) (I) Arcana: 4 (+4 race) (I) Religion: 0 (W) Perception: 4 (+4 class) (W) Medicine: 1 (+1) (W) Survival: 1 (+1) (C) Persuasion: 0 (C) Deception: 0 (C) Intimidation: 0 (C) Performance: 0 | ____________________________________________________________________________ APPEARANCE Dalani could be pestered with saying that he looks like a miniature mountain, but that's not because he'd have such a gigantic physique, but because he'd probably have a very easy time camouflaging right in the open just by leaning against or sitting on a true mountain as long as it is of a gray-ish color. His skin not only looks rather similar with its complexion and extensive network of ridges that follow a pattern far too irregular for having been created in a fight, but it also feels quite tough even without being callhoused. There's no hair on his scalp. Instead it seems more like the bone underneath it has thickened and become overgrown with not just bony, but partly really stone-like material. His chiselled jawbones, eyebrows and nose give his face a quite stern look by default though he is definitely capable of smiling. His eyes are brown with hues of ember breaking through in strong sunlight and their iris lacks the detailed texture of a human's. Rock-like protrusions are not limited to the upper part of Dalani's head, but also occur on many other parts of his body as well such as shoulders, elbows, knees, fingernails and feet. Combined with the fact he still bears some very significant muscle he gives the overall impression of a very dense package. ____________________________________________________________________________ BACKSTORY Dalani was born into a caravan of traders that had formed sort of a loose joint venture that sought to help profits and reduce risks by moving together. It was a quite mixed bag of humans from different origins who prioritized personal wellbeing over the grand scheme of politics, thus allowing Tawr, Esaad and even Baneghoran to work together at least as far as lingering competition allowed for it. The group made stops at pretty much every major settlement of importance, always trying to avoid the depths of the desert even if that meant denying themselves huge shortcuts. Bandits ? Yes, that was one of the threats they were afraid of. Giant scorpions too, maybe. But Jinn ? Yeah maybe they existed, but certainly nowhere near their fancy trade party! They were all wrong and Dalani is the very proof for this. His mother, a large and equally pretty Baneghoran female who had tried to escape the chaos and violence in her homeland by joining other people far away, had no idea that the man she shared her beddings with was anything but a real man at least according to common sense. The jinn had been with the caravan for a substantial time and had taken all the hardship of walking endless days on him so to satisfy his urge to mate. Also, last but not least, he actually loved her. At first there were only very subtle signs that something might be off with the newborn and it seemed that all the jinn's hopes of his child's features being as subtle as his own would work out, but while the jinn blood was sluggish to make itself truly seen, his father continued to enjoy life and helped to give birth to Dalani's brother Odym. It was a lust he might not have succumbed to had he known how things would change one day. Dalani started to develop much stronger signs of not being a human, almost as if the merger of two so different origins was bound to cause creational chaos. Of course then everyone in the caravan knew the truth. It would have been a pretty straightforward affair if their Baneghoran mother had been the only one to have a say in the whole thing, but with Tawr and Esaad people being part of the caravan, too, it became a lot more complicated. Being the key subject of a debate with opinons ranging from 'curse' to 'divine' and a lot in between, Dalani's and Omyr's situation quickly deteriorated into a quite hazardous affair even without the young boys truly being aware of it yet. Nowhere near being old enough to break more than a twig they threatened to tear the joint venture apart by their sheer presence. The leaders took a lot of time to come to some kind of decision, but by the time the decree was made that the three had to go for the sake of the community, someone had already arranged for hard facts. The two boys were gone, abducted by a sub-group of human Tawr people who had not been willing to wait for some kind of higher up decision -- or someone to murder the childs for ideological reasons. It took the two out of the heart of trouble before they became old enough to realize just how screwed up everything was, yet at the same time it also completely destroyed their family. In their efforts the Tawr had taken shortcuts and not been willing to risk abducting a grown Jinn male as well. They had also deemed their Baneghoran mother unworthy and incompatible to the kind of society they had in mind. The two were to be revered and not to live in any lack of materialistic goods, but it still was a very selfish move, driven by yet another ideology and not respecting the jinns self-determination at least to the same degree the decision by the caravan's higher ups would have. Dalani had the advantage in terms of age and was the first to realize that. Maybe biased by the kind of approach of his caretakers which he did not agree with, he perceived Tawr more and more as a cage with golden bars. He liked the training and all, but did not want anybody to lick his feet or to just treat him like a raw egg. It felt like not having been in full control of his own life for many, many years. Dalani wanted to leave, but at the same time did not want to make the same mistake as those around him by forcing his personal decision onto his brother Omyr as well. The Tawr around him were not happy to see him abandoning them, but they also did not dare to start a fight about it. Since then Dalani has become sort of a vagabond. He's not at the very bottom of society, but he has to make his coin on a daily basis just like every commoner -- in his case by offering his skills to those willing to hire him. ____________________________________________________________________________ PERSONALITY Dalani has seen an extremely wide range of attitudes towards his own kind and built a high wall around his inner self to protect against this spectrum. It is as hard as his stone-like skin is tough, but should anyone manage to drill his or her way through all of that said individual might discover that there's a precious gem of friendship at the core. He tries to enjoy life, but he also tries to do that for himself unless you find that gem or are just deceptive enough to tunnel your way through the barrier. The latter is very well possible for Dalani is socially clumsy, partly having fallen victim to the very isolation of his own making. He is too honest and respectful to be a killer and sees that there is no rule dictating that orders are something one is not allowed to have an own thought about. There's also no rule forbidding to make one's own rules if there's nobody there to watch his doings and punish him. Lies usually are bad, but sometimes they can be an acceptable means. There might be a bit of arrogance to him when it comes ot magic, but that is mostly because he has had a very different point of view on things since the very beginning and not a deliberate act. Apart from that however it can be said he's a modest person, except for the occasional overdrinking maybe. Women ? Not a high priority so far, and to his defense one might add he's facing a few additional challenges in that respect as well. ____________________________________________________________________________ MOTIVATION AND OUTLOOK Asked straightforwarldy, Dalani would probably hesitate and then say that he has no overarching goal in his life currently. He can see the many wrongs about how his kind is treated sometimes, but what should he do ? Try and start a revolution ? The thought has crossed his mind, but he deems himself too humble and too consumed by daily business to do that. ____________________________________________________________________________ MISC ... |
Force and Fury Actually kind of mellow
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A Z A R M A S O U M I
If you're asking me for wisdom, you're clearly in need of some.
___________________________________ P R O F I L E Age 20 Race Ayiralite Sex Female Height 160 cm (5'3") Weight 50 kg (109 lbs) ___________________________________ I N V E N T O R Y Prayer beads inscribed with the seven virtues of Sharaqism, water can, satchel with provisions, notebook, small coin purse hidden where nobody will dare go for it. ____________________________________ E Q U I P M E N T - A pair of stiletto daggers hidden in boots - One 'prayer bead' is actually full of a solution that burns dirty and creates gouts of thick black smoke. - Her second 'water canister' is full of a naptha and quicklime solution that makes fire almost impossible to put out on whatever it coats. - Armour just slows you down. ____________________________________ A T T R I B U T E S Athletics: 12 (+2) Dexterity: 13 (+3) Intelligence: 21 (2 race + 4 class + 5) Wisdom: 12 (+2) Charisma: 10 Constitution: 10 ___________________________________ S K I L L S (A) Strength: 0 (A) Agility: 1 (+1) (D) Stealth: 0 (D) Acrobatics: 2 (+2) (D) Trickery: 0 (I) History: 0 (I) Nature: 0 (I) Arcana: 8 (2 class + 4 race + 2) (I) Religion: 0 (W) Perception: 0 (W) Medicine: 0 (W) Survival: 1 (+1) (C) Persuasion: 0 (C) Deception: 0 (C) Intimidation: 2 (+2) (C) Performance: 0 | ____________________________________________________________________________ APPEARANCE Petite and darker-skinned, Azar might've been the kind of girl able to fade effortlessly into a crowd... had she been born human. Failing that, she might've even be considered pretty... had she been born human. As it is, she scares people. She is a pint-sized 5'3" of pure smirking nasty and she tells herself that she likes it that way. Yet, paradoxically, her clothing often demands attention. She'll regularly wear a hooded cloak when she prefers not to draw any (as a fire ayiralite, she laughs at the idea of a sunburn). However, underneath that part-time garment, she dresses provocatively, or in ways that set her apart. Maybe it's something similar to what poisonous animals do; their colouration sends a clear message: stay away. The truth is that Azar really doesn't want trouble, but she'll return whatever comes her way tenfold. ____________________________________________________________________________ BACKSTORY Azar remembers the feel of the fabric. She clung to a woman's clothes. They smelled of jasmine and citrus as she hurried through the darkened streets. Whatever words might've been spoken have not come down to her through time. There were tears. There was the cool of the night air. That was her mother, she thinks, the useless bitch: made a baby with a fire jinn and ran from the responsibility. The foundling house named her Azar, for her planar nature. They gave her a surname too: Al-Hashimi - destroyer. A few years later, when one had it in her mind to be kind to the girl, to not treat her like her future was already written in stone, that name was changed. She became Azar Masoumi: 'innocence', but the die was already cast. She was born bad anyways, or so people say. Azar is young. She doesn't have some epic past. There are no old glories to revel in and few grand tales to regale people with. She was raised as an orphan. Some of the children were put to work. Some were steered towards a life of religious devotion. The lucky ones were taken in by people with kind, needy eyes and some empty space they were looking to fill. Azar was always sent on some errand or given something to play with, away from the other children, when there were visitors. Growing up, she thought that the caretakers were nice about it to spare her feelings. More recently, she's come to understand that it was because they were afraid of her. One day, there was a sorcerer who visited. Apparently, it was customary for the coven to check the orphanages every couple of years and see if anything in need of their attention had turned up there. She was not taken in. She was not raised. Azar was, however, trained. She was treated with the dignity due a promising individual and, by Arhanphast himself, how she came to love those people, to crave their attention and acceptance. What she was wasn't a bad thing to the sorcerers. For every pragmatic kindness they showed her - and even the odd genuine one - she repaid them tenfold. She lit their candles, warmed their hearths, cooked their food, and did their chores. She sung and danced and wrote and read and practiced most of all. She threw her arms around whoever she was to follow for those two days each week without reserve and poured her love into them. Then, when she was sixteen, they declared her sufficiently trained so as not to be a danger to herself and others around her. Their work was done. It took Azar ten seconds to get over the shock. She remembers the salty scent of tears as they evaporated from her cheeks. Love can turn to hate at the drop of a hat, for such are fire ayiralites. She flew at the man with the beard and she supposed he wasn't able to stop her from a mix of shock and maybe because he'd expected her to use her magic. Instead, she dug her thumbs into his eyes and felt them split against her skin with a slimy 'pop'. She melted them right out of their sockets as he screamed. She ran and kept running and she knew that they were after her: 'they' - the people who made rules and laws; the kind who had named her 'destroyer' as a three-year-old. Azar really hasn't stopped running since, from mercenary company to brothel and back, from one odd job to the next. She generally stays away from civilized places. She's fought in Baneghora. She's spent time in Arilqas. There were a few grand months in Qadir until they realized that she was not their kind of ayiralite. She gave her love to a man and killed him when he gave his love to another. She is not currently looking to love again. People are bad at love, she's pretty sure, and she's worse than most. Azar can see the fear in their eyes, but they wait to mutter about her until she's moved on. Sometimes, on those nights when she isn't around the light and warmth of other people's company, giving and receiving, she cries as she tries to sleep. It only makes her angrier that she's lying there crying instead of taking action. Someday soon, she will burn the people who hate and who've wronged her to ash and they will regret it all. She will find somebody who she can love, who won't betray her, and she will love them back with everything she has, even if she was born bad. ____________________________________________________________________________ PERSONALITY Azar is a dangerously unstable young woman, partly as a result of her nature and partly as a consequence of her experiences. She can be warm, helpful, and caring to a fault. She can be protective towards those who she empathizes with or truly trusts, though this side of her rarely comes out. More often, she plays to type, knowing that most people have already judged her by sight or reputation. It's easier that way and she's learned that to let herself care opens the door to attachment, which opens the door to anger. She's destroyed enough things already. When she isn't busy doing mental gymnastics to justify her actions, the guilt sours her insides. Azar tries to be taciturn, and even considers herself so, but isn't much good at it. In general, she's twenty, angsty, and emotionally stunted. Her self-image is often woefully inaccurate. At times, there is an almost puckish quality to Azar, but it's underlain, for most, by a fundamental unease: one moment, she's laughing and joking. The next, she goes still and glares when someone crosses an arbitrary personal line. The offending party stands at the precipice of violent assault. Of course, if she finds herself outmatched or even truly challenged, Azar is a coward at heart and will usually run. In some regards, she is a classic bully because, to not be a bully, in her mind, means that she occupies its counter-role: that of the victim. She will not let herself be a victim ever again. She cannot be powerless but, paradoxically, she does not crave power either, at least not on a macro scale. More than anything else, she just wants to... that's the rub, isn't it? She doesn't really know what she wants. Hopefully, she'll find it. ____________________________________________________________________________ MOTIVATION AND OUTLOOK Azar is essentially directionless at this point. Oh, sometimes she entertains fleeting fantasies about becoming some powerful, respected personage, but she soon sees them for what they are and they evaporate - ethereal - into her unfulfilled dreamscape. Sometimes, she crafts scenarios where she finds her mother and gives the bitch a taste of hell, but then she feels awful. She's caused so much pain already. She doesn't want to cause anymore. Is there completely justified killing? Can she just be 'bad' towards people who genuinely deserve it? Maybe that's why she exists. Maybe that's her motivation at this point and what she's looking for. ____________________________________________________________________________ MISC 1) Every night Inconsistently, but what she tells herself is 'basically every night', Azar recites the seven virtues of her faith: truth, charity, justice, discipline, temperance, loyalty and fidelity, and humility. It's all playacting and self-flagellation, though, to assuage her own guilt. She isn't genuinely pious in the slightest. 2) Her mother was from a family of some importance, and not originally from Esaad. Azar might be surprised when she learns more about the circumstances of her birth and flight to the orphanage. |
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