Liram Najaho
Name Liram Najaho
Race/Faction Born into the Veiled Ones, but somewhat beguiled by the Ouroborus and their powers
Age 22
Description Standing at a tall 6'3", Liram takes after his father's height and looks. He has milky brown skin the color of the sands and brown curls falling just below his neck. Another oddity besides his rather pale skin color are his stark blue eyes
that he shares with his half sister Elize that sets him apart from many of the Veiled Ones. With his training, he has built muscles in both his legs and arms, but his sword arm has gained the most strength. Strapped to his side at all times, his bronze
Khopesh is his most trusted weapon. He's a handsome young man, but he is still set apart from his people.
Class Foot Soldier slowly rising through the ranks.
Motivation Liram finally knows what he can do to prove himself to his people. Maybe fighting this rebellion will finally win him the love and respect he has always craved, or maybe it will lead him to the mystical allure of the Ouroborus. Either way, he's going to find his calling.
History Born the bastard son of High Lord Casterly and a desert Veiled One, Liram has lived an alienated life. Everything about him has set him apart from his people and his culture. His father insisted he take a family first name before retreating back to his cushy life of money and wine and even more women. Liram's mother never explicitly told him that his dad was a kingdom nobleman, but he could at least deduce that his father was not a Veiled One, not to mention the fact that he is notably paler than his peers.
He was teased and bullied as a child, called milk face and a betrayer to his kind because of his blood. Worried her child may be expelled from the tribe, his mother pleaded with the Cealla elder women to keep him and accept him into their society. They reluctantly agreed, under the circumstances that when the time came, Liram would have to leave and migrate back to the kingdom, so his unnatural disruption would be righted in the universe. But then the rebellion started, and he was given a chance to train, fight, and earn his place with the Veiled Ones.
During an early training session, some masters of the Ouroborus came and visited. Liram was immediately drawn to their abilities and glamor, and they knew it. Torn between his duty to his mother and his people and the hunger for power that lies deep inside him, he's still unsure if he should abandon the only life he's ever known and seek out the Ouroborus for guidance.
Strengths
Loyal • Physical Fortitude • Impulsive
Weakness
Eager • Insecure • Slow
What is the most important thing to know about your character? Liram is ambitious, but not for the right reasons. It is possible he may become dedicated to the rebellion at some point, but for now, he is more focused on his own goals of acceptance and this feeling of
home he so desperately craves. He will be unwavering and loyal to those who show him the same amount of consideration and respect.
What is your character's greatest flaw? He really needs to get over his need to please others and receive praise in return. While he's not a dumb boy, a few nice words can lead him down the path of long-term manipulation and control. What he needs most is to realize that he has nobody he really needs to prove himself to other than him.
Why should your character be in a position to influence an entire country? Despite how wrapped up Liram is with his own personal image and how society sees him, he has a lot of potential not only as an individual but as a high nobleman's son. Once people learn of his lineage, he has the ability to not only alter the mindsets of the Veiled Ones and the commoners of the Kingdom, but the royal class as well. The nobles will listen to his blood right and the peasants will see his humble beginnings and capability to overcome his vulnerable self.
The desert sands whipped across the cold night and splattered onto the small encampment. The soldiers huddled together around their small fires, chatting about home or women or the rebellion. Letting the heat of the flames lick against his sore back, Liram stretched his muscles out. "Milk face," one recruit called out to him. It was a young boy, maybe around 19 or 20. Though the Veiled Ones are a tight-knit people, Liram had never seen him before. He was as the color of tree bark and had a light pink scar running across his nose. "The soldiers around here tell me your father is a kingdom noble man, and that's why you're so pale."
Rubbing his face, Liram bit his tongue. "One night," he muttered to himself. "Just one fucking night." Liram knew his father was a kingdom man, but he was no royal. That was a rumor the soldiers had come up with to ridicule and humiliate him.
"Well?" the young man asked, expectant and staring.
"Sol made me this way, so this way I shall be," Liram answered easily. It was a phrase he had memorized as a child, one his mother had taught him.
"Sol makes no mistakes like your skin," the recruit retorted.
Liram could feel his fingers grip the hilt of his Khopesh. Normally he could take the usual taunts, but tonight was different. His cheeks flared with color and his heart began to beat with adrenaline. He could feel the eyes of his fellow soldiers begin to turn and watch, waiting for somebody to move.
"Then maybe Shrikant or Macea did it. It is not my place to question the gods," Liram finally responded after a tense pause. He didn't feel like fighting tonight, even if it was a wound on his ego. He had already spared so much today.
"You know what use to happen to babies like you?" the boy asked. Before Liram could even turn to look, the recruit grabbed his sword and was on his way to strike.
"We use to gut you and sacrifice you to So--"
Liram jumped from his spot, Khopesh in hand. He deflected the recruit's long sword with ease, the deafening clank shattering all conversation across camp. The boy was still in basic training, Liram noted. His curved blade hooked onto the short sword and yanked it from the recruit's hand before taking another swipe at the boy's sword hand. Wisely, the kid stumbled back, nearly tumbling into the burning embers and coals. He cursed and yelled and called it an unfair match, but their captain had already emerged from his tent and demanded an end to the violence. Liram spat before the boy's feet, the ultimate insult. This wasn't the first fight he'd had over his skin. It wouldn't be his last.
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