Tominas

The Shattered World

@Crusader Lord

We believe in you, m8. Hopefully it'll all be chill, computer issues are a bitch

The Plague (Slightly 18+)

@SirSqueakalot91
Definitely interested. I DO have to ask about the presence of magic in this one, even though I'm probably going to write up an orcish warrior-type anyway :P

London Ghoul : TG AU Interest Check

Interested. Watched the anime, haven't seen the manga, excited to go in half-blind :D

Vampire Mafia InCh

I'm interested, depending on how things go. I fear the slow down with a passion, but it sounds like this could be a grand old time

The Shattered World

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Ante Magnus and Harun Fakim Al-Kashir

Year 7,432 of the 3rd Era
3rd Month, 13th Day
LOCATION: Deserts of Zidel; Trade City of Rhyad

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Harun blinked, the shrike’s third eyelid sliding across its pupil with an audible snip. Words were being exchanged, and he was sure the young one addressed him, but the language was foreign and strange… which meant that he had likely been gone for longer than he thought. He would have to address that later. For now, though, he hopped up on the girl’s finger, cocking his head and chirping once. A caravan would be good for travel, and as a shrike he would eat less than a mouse. All the thief had to do was ingratiate himself.

The bird hopped on then. It seemed fairly tame, a pet of sorts? Ante looked around but there didn’t seem to be anyone anticipating it. Most birds she ran into would run away quickly. ”What type of birdie are you? It’s pretty.”

”A shrike, I believe.” The Caravan Leader said, staring at the little bird. It was interesting for him to see a bird. ”Odd place for a bird, but there is a city coming up so it might not be so odd.” He added. Looking ahead he noted something in the distance. ”Ahh, yes, a city I spy. Rhyad, it is called.”

The shrike turned its head towards the leader of the caravan, cocking it as if confused. Letting out a small scree, it flapped twice and took off, soaring towards where the tanned trader had pointed. Harun couldn’t understand this language, it had been too many years since his death. But all the same, sure enough, that was a city. Not one he recognized… most likely nothing to be surprised at, there. He needed to find someone who could tell him the date, grab Xil’Gurash from wherever he was, and then he would be on his merry way to Bervenia.

A city which he shouldn’t have known about… That was odd. In his head, he saw a clear route to the city from where he flew. It would only be a week or so, less if he were something a little more conspicuous… He shook his head. Maybe this had something to do with his return to life. He had lived for long enough to know when something wasn’t a coincidence, and this sure as hell was no coincidence. Leaning to his left, the shrike spiraled back down to the girl’s camel, landing with a muffled thud on her shoulder. The caravan was headed that way; he may as well travel in style.

It wasn’t too far, and soon enough the pack of traders crested the final dune on its way down to Rhydal. The city was… Well, it reminded Harun of Cordial. It was busy, though not with walls or guards or glyphs. Most likely, this one existed as part of whatever government that had exchanged places with Kalem over the years. There was a small pang in Harun’s chest, knowing that things had changed so much. Still, he had business to attend to and spirits to speak with, there was no time for moping.

Entering the city, the shrike split off, letting out a small cry as it flew into the streets. Tucking into an alley, the bird disappeared, replaced by a dusty tomcat that walked through town. The thief searched and searched, soon finding what he was seeking. The caravan had kept him well enough, and it wouldn’t hurt to leave a small parting gift.

Twenty minutes later, Harun had found the girl, spiraling down once more as a shrike. He let off a greeting as he descended, catching her attention as he settled down beside her once more, this time a long strand of red gossamer trailing from his tiny beak. It seemed to suit her color scheme, and he offered it up to her with another chirp.

The bird had disappeared as the neared the town. ”Ahh, bye little birdie.” She said as they pulled into town, a few villagers came to the Caravan, knowing them apparently. The exchanged pleasantries a bit. The diminutive form of the language Harena used was pretty similar, at least enough for Ante to talk pretty normally. It seemed as if it were preserved well. It might have just been small packs of people though.

She still wasn’t too sure about the current nations. Harena was gone. . . Naasha? In the middle of thought, the small bird from earlier came down holding a nice red ribbon. ”Oh, you’ve come back little guy and what’s that you’re holding? For me?” This was definitely not something she had expected but she grabbed it from the small thing. It matched her hair well at least and seemed to go with the rest of her outfit as well. It seemed her charm even worked on small animals! ”Why thank you, little Shrike! I appreciate this present much!” There was a fairly large smile across her face now.

Grinning internally, Harun took off. Hospitality was always welcome, regardless of what he looked like at the time. At the end of the day, a ribbon for a place to sit was one of the better trades he had made. Honestly, the girl had reminded him a touch of himself when he was a child… though infinitely cleaner. And nicer. Probably a little less eloquent. He really needed to stop comparing people to himself.

Regardless, he had repaid a kindness with a kindness, and as always the winds were with him. Tucking into an alley, the shrike left as a young man wearing traveler's clothes, exchanged with a bit of gold the thief had pilfered from a fat merchant when she wasn’t looking. The caravan had been nothing but good to him, no reason to be rude. Things were looking up for Harun. He was no longer nude, he had coin at his side… now he needed a knife. With a practiced hand, he plucked one from a man on the road, slipping it into his own belt when no one was looking, ducking into an alleyway, walking out the other side as a tall, dark woman with no knife at all. Old habits died hard.

Still, there was plenty of work to be done, and information to be gathered. He couldn’t speak the language of the locals, but spirits never changed, not really. The smile spread once more at the corners of Harun’s face. There were bargains to be made.

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Once again, a glass shrike set off from Rhyad, this flying with purpose. Outside of the city borders, Harun didn’t bother with subtlety. He changed mid-flight, the small body of the shrike spreading out to the giant wingspan of the albatross. He was making excellent time, had brightened the day of a friendly young girl, and soon he would have an old friend at his side. At times like this, Harun couldn’t help but to wonder what could possibly go wrong.

The Shattered World

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Harun Fakim Al-Kashir

Days Since Resurrection: 0
LOCATION: The Stone Cliffs of the Isle of Bezir; Deserts of Zidel
INTERACTING WITH: Ante Magnus@Pyromania99

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The wind against the cliffs of Bezir had sounded like sobbing for thousands of years. It could have been a peculiar facet of the interaction between the stone and the constant breeze on the island, or maybe the way the sea drove against the rocks of the shore. Regardless, it was always a consistent weeping, low and wailing.

But not today.

A lone figure lay dozing on the sands, the warm sun of the South beating against the cold currents of the sea. The figure was lithe and sharp, his naked body shining in the sunlight as his chest rose and fell with a gentle rhythm. His skin was dark and his hair was long and soaked, like he had recently been swimming. Soon, the warm waters of the Southern Sea rose over the beach with a small wave, slamming into the sleeping man.

Harun woke with a gasp as saltwater went into his nose, stinging at his eyes and filling his mouth with the taste of the ocean. Scrambling up the beach, he coughed and hacked, clearing his lungs of liquid as he tried to remember where he was. By Vis’s bountiful bosom, the Southern Sea was a bastard of an old man. He shook his head, muttering a few choice curses as he tried to remember where he was. He remembered… flying. Flying for a long time in blue, clear skies. There was water below him, but Her warm gust kept him aloft…

He blinked. He was on the Isle of Bezir, he knew those cliffs anywhere. Those were the cliffs that… his body had broken against. He remembered his vessel being crushed between the grinding boulders in the surf, a pitched storm screaming in the night sky. He remembered his love fighting for her life, strangling the breath from the Eastern Wind. His eyelids no longer felt heavy as he felt the cold grip of panic on his heart for a moment before he felt a familiar, warm breeze.

“...My love?” His voice was scratchy as it came out, soon settling into his older, dulcet tones. “My love, where are you? Are you hurt?” He blinked again, trying to get his bearings. His clothes were gone, his jewelry cast off before he set off on his voyage. That was one of his favorite parts of leaving, the dispersion of his belongings to the people. They were alway so overjoyed… They were his people, after all. But he was missing something, no, some one very important. The wind blew around him frantically, whipping his hair back and drying him rapidly. “Thank the Goddess… No, no I’m fine. I’m fine, truly.” He smiled and spread his arms, closing his eyes as he embraced the day. She was alive and well, and that was what mattered. “I know, I know.. You were worried, but it’s alright. I was… sleeping, and your father woke me, that’s all. Truly. I yet brea-” A quick gust cut him off, his eyes opening widely as his voice cut through the air like a blade in the night. “...so I did die.”

---

The Thirteenth Lord of Shadow breathed deeply, closing his eyes once more and relaxing his arms, his shoulders, his body. He felt the reassuring breeze on his well-muscled back, smelled the sea foam whipping against the bottom of the cliff-face. Danger from the East, though this time not from the Wind. Xil’Gurash was gone past Her reach, he knew not where. The spirits could not tell him how long it had been, only that it had been long. A smile crept from one cheek to the other, the grin splitting his face ear to ear. He hadn’t had a true adventure since the death of the Bastard Emperor. “Once more unto the breach, then.”

Five hours later, a single albatross crossed the beach of southmost Zidel. His Beloved knew little of what was going on, but the spirits were restless everywhere. The minor spirits of each breeze, animals, the sea were all restless and uneasy. Something was very, very wrong and Harun was eager to stick his nose dead in the middle of it all. The bird glided across the threshold of the land, peeling off towards a small caravan he saw. The spirits kept poor time when it came to the passage of years, but people kept track of those things. Changing into a small glass shrike, he soared above the caravan for a time before screaming downward into a kill spiral, landing on the largest turban he could find. If traditions still held, this would be taken as a sign of good fortune. If they did not, well.. It would be humorous for him.

Burying his claws deep into the fabric of the leading hat, Harun turned around to survey the caravan. He heard a few good-natured chuckles after the man he was riding exclaimed in surprise. That was a good sign. Still, he saw camels, lots of water, food supplies for at least another two week’s trek, and a child who looked as though she didn’t belong to any of the men she was with… As their daughter, anyway. Her hair was a bright red and her garb… oddly ceremonial. Between her clothes and the ring she bore, she was dressed rather nicely and wore no chains... daughter of a noble, perhaps? He could use that.

The shrike swooped over to her camel, settling on the saddle in front of her and letting out a small chirrup. If things went smoothly, he could play the part of a friendly spirit for a time. He turned to look at the girl, cocking his head and issuing a slight scree. She looked friendly. He just had to hope that appearances didn't prove deceiving... For once. Maybe then he could figure out what the hell was going on.

The Shattered World

@SimpleD Oy m8, hop in the dischord! It's where most of the actual discussion for the OOC chat of this RP goes on. Or don't , but y'know. Missin' out.

The Shattered World

Harun Fakim Al-Kashir, the Thirteenth Lord of Shadow

Harun Fakim Al-Kashir

Character Summary

Name: Harun Fakim Al-Kashir
Aliases: The Thirteenth Lord of Shadow, Sandwalker, Ghosttongue, The Shapeless
Titles: Kingslayer, Jidir
Age: 28
Time of Death: 5,354 years ago
Place of Origin: Kashemite Empire(now Zidel)
Gender: Male(most of the time)

Physical Attributes

Eyes: Amber
Hair: Black
Day To Day Attire: When possible, silks and fine jewelry are all that he wears. In the warm deserts and atop the sea of his homeland, it was rare for Harun to wear a shirt. However, as he has made his way across the land, traveler’s clothes fit him more often than not, his jewelry concealed to avoid confrontation on the road.
Strengths: Excellent at talking his way out of trouble, Speaks with Spirits, Shapeshifting
Weaknesses: Selfish, Secretive, Loyal to a Fault

Psychological Attributes

Flirtatious * Gregarious * Selfish * Flexible

Sexuality: Open to possibilities
Relationship Status: It’s complicated.
Personality: Selfish and strong-willed, Harun is more than willing to take what he wants when he wants it. In many ways, he views thievery as a game rather than a crime, and always seeks a larger job to test himself against. In regards to others, he is friendly and gregarious, but to truly earn his trust is difficult. Once he views you as a true friend, he is loyal to a fault, many of his past adventures revolving around saving traveling companions from dangers of the road. In his eyes, he protects those he cares for because they become "his people," and thus his responsibility.

Married to a concept more than a physical being and growing up in the brothel pretty much set his interactions with others. An incurable flirt.

Skills & Abilities

• Spirit-Speaking (Master):Given time and resources, Harun can strike up a bargain with any spirit, forming contracts of services on his part over time in exchange for powerful natural phenomena, such as tornadoes and earthquakes. These bargains are single-event deals, however. Generally speaking, the smaller the favor, the smaller the result from the spirit. As an example, if he spent a month campaigning in a city to prevent mining in a local mountain, the spirits of said mountain could reward him with an earthquake on the opposite side of the range. Alternatively, if he left out bread, milk, and honey for a minor spirit of the wind, it could deliver a message for him a few miles away, whispering his voice into the recipient’s ear. Additionally, small offerings tend to win small secrets from spirits. The local bartender likes to sing in the shower, the perfect place for a sunlit nap in the woods, a guardsman has a bad drinking problem, etc. Some of it is more useful than the rest.
• Shapeshifting(Blessing)(Master): Instructed by his former lover, the Lady of the Desert Wind, Harun can transform rapidly between any form of a living creature his size or smaller, his equipment and possessions melding into his form. Upwardly, he can transform into a creature up to the size of a large polar bear, but no bigger. Additionally, he can alter his body on a small scale, meaning that he can duplicate other people in appearance and voice so long as he has seen and heard them before, as well as simply change his facial features, body-type, gender, etc. Often combines this skill with his knife-fighting abilities for explosive results.
• Knife-fighting (Expert):Having spent his life as a child fending off both other urchins and passing slavers, Harun knows his way around a knife very, very well. During his later years, he was known to defeat practiced duelists with his incredible speed and deceptive strength. Many think it possible that he cheated. They are most likely correct.
• Favored of the Wind (Blessing): Lightning will not strike Harun, the love his favored wife bore him keeping him safe to this day. This blessing also bestows a supernatural swiftness in both travel and personal need, the spirits of the wind compelled to help Harun move swiftly on the road, and his time with the Lady of the Sands empowering him with speed beyond a mortal man. This blessing is also the source of the strength his size belies, though it remains well within mortal possibilities.
• Pickpocket(Expert): Growing up a thief, tutored by the swiftest hands in Kalem, Harun is an expert pickpocket. Beltpouches, backpacks, pockets, and other compartments in clothing: nothing is safe.
• Illusion Magic (Skilled): Having stolen quite a few tomes in his time, Harun is fairly well-practiced in Illusion magic, aiding in his favored pastime. An expert by no means, he is more than capable of fooling the common man.
• Cooking (Skill): Quite bad at it, but damn if he doesn’t try.
• Singing (Skill): Actually quite good, his voice sonorous as his mothers’ were.
• Xil’Gurash (Artifact): A sentient blade with a noble soul, the curved dagger Xil’Gurash wants nothing more than to uphold what is right and good in the world, protecting the weak and crushing the rule of tyrants. ...Sadly, as Harun managed to rescue him from the pitch-black caverns of an underground lake system, the blade owes a lifedebt to the thief. A fantastic knife, Xil’Gurash has very little trouble cutting through most substances, living or otherwise. Xil’Gurash also purifies any poison that comes into contact with the blade. In theory, he could save someone poisoned by stabbing them and drawing the venom out, but then they would have a stab wound to contend with. Supposedly the dagger bears other abilities, but it never allowed Harun access to these as he did not pursue the end of Gurash’s “great foe.” Harun is blatantly not worthy to wield his full powers.

History

Backstory:

His story began in a backwater trade city in the final years of the Kalemite Empire. The lands were harsh and the nobles corrupt, crime flourishing in the cities as protection money was paid from wealthy merchants to powerful crime bosses, the Twelve Lords of Shadow. The drug trade ran rampant, slaves flowed like water, illegal goods were hawked in town squares across the nation. The ruling class controlled the military and in theory the nation, but the true power was in the street and everyone knew it.

Harun Fakim Al-Kashir was born to a prostitute in a back alley who died but a few years after his birth. Thrown out onto the streets with no living family, Harun swiftly learned that he had to choose between the virtue of honesty or food. It was not a hard choice.

His innocent appearance and slender hands lent themselves all too well to picking pockets, and after a time he was indoctrinated into a small gang of forty thieves who worked the docks. Staying at a local brothel that was the front for their operations, he learned how to sing, compose himself when begging, distract someone, and speak with the opposite sex. In larceny, he could use his agility to his advantage, his slender arms and small hands lending themselves wonderfully to reaching into smaller spaces his older bandmates could not. He was an asset, and the leader of the party, a man by the name of Alibaba, became as a father to him. It was during this time that Harun developed his two great loves; women and the sea. His mother’s beauty was not wasted on him, and his name was spoken with venom by fathers and velvet from daughters. During the daylit hours, he would disappear onto the ocean, cruising on a skiff he purchased with his ill-gotten gains. There was always something that seemed to call to him when he got far enough from the city, the promise of new lands, new people, treasures to be gained... But he was always afraid he would grow lost to the tides, and turned back. His family needed him. And so, he spent his nights thieving, fighting, leading the life of a criminal.

As time went on, Alibaba’s Forty Thieves became the dominant power in their city, Alibaba himself rising to the position of one of the Twelve Lords of Shadow in Kalem. They were fighting the law, and sometimes the work was bloody, but they took what they needed and lived happily. Life was good. That is, until the Emperor died and his son came into power.

Lord Emperor Herod II was a shrewd man, and witnessed his empire crumbling in his hands. Seizing upon the last power his father had previously withheld to combat barbarians and raiders, Herod lead his military on a conquest through his own cities, determined to demonstrate who truly held power in Kalem. It was unlike any true war, the Emperor’s Punitive Forces patrolling the streets, finding leads, torturing and trailing their way back to the Twelve in each city of the land. They were then summarily executed, along with every member of their bloodline the Emperor could find. The sands of the streets ran red with blood, and it wasn’t all too long before the Lord Emperor’s Punitive Forces found their way to Harun’s family.

As Harun grew older, prey from the dock became more and more scarce, Alibaba’s thieves forced further and further back as the great crimelords of the land fell, one by one. It was beginning to come true that, one way or another, crime didn’t pay in Kalem anymore. The band began to disperse, going their way one after the other, but Harun, terrified of losing his family, insisted on one last heist to truly stick it to the new Emperor. Alibaba simply smiled, shaking his head at the young one’s insistence. The Forty disbanded, Alibaba disappearing into the world, assuring Harun that he would be safer if they never met again.

Harun’s world had crumbled around him, his family gone. All that was left was the sea, and the bitter rage he felt towards Lord Emperor Herod. Still, he was young, in good health, and had nothing to lose. If there was nothing left for him in Kalem, he would find what the rest of the world had to offer... At least, that was the plan.

He set sail.

Not six days after he set off along the coast, a mighty storm broke out on the turbulent seas. The Southern Sea was never a kind one, but during a storm there was nothing a sailor could do but pray. Though his vessel was crushed against the rocky shores of an island in the south, Harun survived, alone. For a time, he thought he would go mad. Days passed, weeks, months. Soon he came to speak to the trees, the sea, the undergrowth of the island, anything he could imagine speaking to. At night, he would speak to his campfire, the fish he had killed... and the wind.

There was always a steady breeze through the island, rising from the South. It was a gentle, warm wind, and he learned to love it as his only constant companion. As he scrounged a living from the fish around the island, chewing on roots and coconut, he would tell his story to the wind. He spoke of his dead mother, his father departing, Alibaba and the Forty Thieves. He spoke of beautiful women and songs in the moonlight, of how he would distract wealthy merchants traveling through town while his compatriots looted their carriages, of the joys of sailing. He whispered messages to Alibaba, to the women in the brothel who raised him, to old lovers. Then, one day, as he wept at the prospect of spending the rest of his life alone, the wind spoke back.

"Why do you stay?"

These were her first words to Harun. Convinced that he had finally snapped, he laughed, speaking back to the Wind. She didn't understand why he didn't leave the island if he was so miserable. He shook his head, a grim smile on his face as he explained that he was well and truly stuck, as the furious sea would surely kill him if he tried to leave on a raft. It wasn't as if he could turn into an albatross and fly away. Laughing herself, the wind offered to teach him. Broken in spirit and desperate, Harun accepted, expecting to die leaping off of the black cliffs of the island, guided by the words of a hallucination... But the Wind kept her word. In exchange for another three years of stories, the Lady of the Southern Wind taught him how to change. How to be different, how to grow, and shrink, and smell and see and hear in entirely different ways. She taught him how to properly address the unseen spirits of the world, the life that blazes in all things. She taught him how to be respectful when addressing great spirits, and reprehensive when speaking to the little ones. When he learned how to change, she taught him how to fly. He soared in her skies, guided by her gentle hand and swept across the ocean, back to Kalem. In his heart, something was different. He loved her.

She taught him, protected him, guided him over the tempestuous waters of her father, the Southern Sea. However, when he returned... things had changed. The Twelve had disappeared, any and all traces of the vast criminal empires which had previously held an iron grip over Kalem was gone. Thieves were punished by the loss of a hand, smugglers had their tongues removed, murderers were killed. The law was the power in Kalem, and the old brothel was shut down. His family was gone, all of them.

The next two years were a hectic time in Harun's life, the young man employing the few skills he had to earn what he could. He stole his way through Kalem, pilfering gold and information as he searched for his old family. Many were dead, caught by the new regime and executed publicly, but the most notable exception was Alibaba. The last living member of the Twelve, the bounty on his head was monumental. The more Harun thought on it, the more likely it was that his adopted father had fled the nation, traveling North.

Aside from that, Harun grew restless. The old jobs were no longer challenging, the thrill of fleeing from the law was gone. He missed the kick of adrenaline with a sword to his back, the excitement of arrows whizzing past his ear.

He set sail once more, this time up the coast. He made fortunes and lost them, gave them away to towns where he had found hospitality. He began entering towns as a sickly old man, covered in rags. If they treated him well, he gifted the families with great fortunes. Otherwise, he went on his merry way. He didn't know why, but... it felt right. He couldn't carry all the coin he "found," that was for sure. So he traveled, he kept curiosities, he gave fortunes, and soon found an interesting companion in the mystical dagger, Xil'Gurash. Trapped in a shipwreck for who knows how long, the blade swore a lifedebt to the man who had saved him, pledging his allegiance and prowess to keep him safe and fight the evils of the world... An oath the dagger soon came to regret, as he realized that the selfish bastard was uninterested in the prophesied doom. The knife soon resigned himself to a human's lifetime of service, knowing that the thief would die before too long, relatively, and took to sarcasm and frustrated moral guidance. If nothing else, his bearer was still young. He could temper his steel.

Harun adventured, bartering with spirits for information, seeking out treasures great and small. To the north of the Herod's reach, he founded the small town of Cordial that soon became the last remaining hub of underground trade in Kalem. Outside of the Empire's borders and by itself, Cordial seemed like a sitting duck. And it would have been, had Harun not been making contracts. Everywhere he went, he spoke to winds, hills, mountains, trees, animals. Every time the Empire launched an offensive, the world struck against it. Earthquakes, tornadoes, sandstorms all raged against them, ravaging their numbers before they could reach the trade city. Men would die from scorpions stinging them from their boots, serpents rose from the sands at night and slew scores at a time, and many of their number died from slit throats and stab wounds in their sleep, no traces of the culprit to be found.

It drove Herod mad.

Everything was going swimmingly for the bastard thief. His trade town was bustling, word was spreading inside the Empire of a Thirteenth Lord of Shadow, active both in and outside of their borders. They said he was faster than the wind, stronger than a mountain, and impossible to catch. Knowing how much he was making Herod grind his regal teeth filled his heart with a smug satisfaction, knowing that he did his adopted father proud. Then, one day after he had made his way from a small tribe in Illisk, creeping out of their chieftain's bed and slipping into the snow, he sat listening to the spirits. One of them knew where Alibaba had been.

Herod had found him.

The last member of the Twelve was tortured, drawn, and quartered in the public square of Kalem's capital city, Tet. It had lasted for seven days, grand announcements ringing throughout the empire. Seven days and nights of torture, healing, and torture again until the Emperor had his fill and Harun's father was allowed to die. Seven days of public celebration as the last great criminal was slain, the governors and mayors and council feasting and drinking as Harun's father was bled, beaten, and burned. His head was mounted outside the city, his body thrown to the dogs in the streets.

Herod had thought to scare off this new criminal threat, show them that he meant business. The Emperor was not merciful, and would not allow crime to flourish in his streets. His taxes would be levied on all goods entering the empire, thieves would always be punished, crime would not pay. He had thought to quell this "Sandwalker's" spirit. Instead, he had stoked the flames of hate.

The next seven years of Harun's life were spent wandering far from Cordial, inland and on the coast, seeking out the most powerful allies he could find. He assisted coups, he was betrothed to multiple princesses, he was a vassal to dozens of kings, a vizier to three, and the apprentice to six separate mages. He slept with a dragoness who bore his children. He slept with... many, who bore his children actually. In his times of trouble, he turned to the comforts of his youth in travel and the company of beautiful men and women. It was a crutch, but it kept him sane. He purchased the invisibility of Cordial, warded and counterwarded against every spell his allies could think of. He used every asset at his disposal, every fiber of his being to amass information and debt from the spirits of the wilds. He would need all the help he could find.

In Kalem, Herod grew anxious. The trade from Cordial increased tens of times, furs and blades and poisons swarming throughout his empire. The city itself had disappeared, and those who were captured could not physically speak of the place. He began to lose his hair, dark bags appeared under his eyes, and his sanity was not long for the world. He drank, took exotic drugs, and became more paranoid as time went on. He had officials killed, replaced, and killed the replacements for rousing trouble. He took wives and killed them off, suspecting plots against him in his sleep. Blood ran in the streets of Kalem, but this time it was that of innocents. The public grew afraid, taxes rose, unrest grew in the streets which only further fueled the Emperor's paranoia. The Empire was cracking, and soon legitimate dissent began to arise as Herod grew to be a true tyrant. Rebellions rose, were quashed, their leaders and every member of their bloodline tortured to death in the streets. His rule was iron, and the masses broke beneath the fist of his might.

At the end of the seven years, Harun was ready to unleash the full might of all that he had done, all the allies he had made upon the Grand City of Tet. Cordial re-appeared, the standing guard of Kalem immediately resuming their assault... but the small trading post had grown. Grand walls towered over the army, built by djinn of the sands. Fire blazed down from their defences, a sandstorm trapping the armies of Kalem in a siege they could not win.

It was during this time that a single glass shrike flew into the city of Tet. The same glass shrike had been building a nest in the windowsill of the Emperor's wife, a young woman named Rana, for quite some time now. It had been there for when she was summoned by guards, when the Emperor had appeared himself. It had been there when she wept openly, fearing the day that Herod would turn on her. It had been there when she sang, similar to Harun's mothers, and himself in his time on the Isle of Bezir. She watched the shrike, smiling and feeding it from time to time, taking joy in the small creature. But this time, as she was singing, the creature moved with a sense of urgency. It flew inside her room and hefted a quill, writing rapidly with its beak. Then, assured she would not scream, Harun returned to his native form and told her of his plans to kill her husband. He told her of his months studying Herod's habits, his guards, his counterassassins, his court magi. He told her of how his father had been the final Lord of Shadow, and he told her that he would keep her safe. But he needed one thing from her, this beautiful widow-to-be.

The Emperor was fearful, taken to omens and superstition. In this time of crisis, with his head full of worry and his heart heavy with doubt, he usually turned to wine and women to cure his suffering... only to find that his harem was gone. His wife, beautiful and talented, had disappeared. When he left her chambers, his guards were gone as well. His magi, his bodyguards, the entire palace had disappeared... and a sole figure in fine silks and jewelry stood before him, holding a golden knife and wearing the smile of a man who's patience had been rewarded.

Despite his abilities, Harun's true strength was in his ability to make deals and plan ahead. In the months prior to his assassination, the Sandwalker had made many, many trips to the Grand Palace of Tet, speaking with the spirits of the walls, finding out everything he could about every single member of the staff the Emperor held. The rest of his government was afraid, all officials knew they could be killed at any time. In the end, it was the Emperor's own paranoia which truly proved to be his undoing. Between the distrust in the people and their fear of the Thirteenth Shadow Lord's supernatural abilities, bribing, threatening, and lying his way into the palace had been easy for Harun. More difficult had been persuading the Emperor's staff to leave, and yet the promise of the return of the soldiers laying siege to Cordial had been persuasive to the townsfolk of Tet. In the end, there was no struggle. Herod had grown fat and weak, unable to sleep and addicted to a series of drugs. A single stroke of the knife was all it took.

After the death of Herod, life in Kalem was uneasy for only a brief time. Planning ahead, Harun's shadow government was prepared to take up the reigns the moment the despot fell to the floor. Initially uneasy with their new rule, the people soon found that taxes were lighter, corruption was down, and Harun's rule was noted as a time of prosperity and peace. Cordial became the new capital of the Empire, the trade city loaded with artifacts from Harun's travels and protected by hordes of rabid followers. In time, Harun allowed them to appoint their own government, guiding them when necessary. He held the power, but by all appearances it was his appointed council which made the decisions. Still, after a time, he grew bored once more. Herod was dead, his father was avenged, and Harun was... restless. He was not a man made to stay in one place, and the responsibilities of a government grew dull to him. It was time to move on.

Once more, he cast his riches aside. Once more, he strapped the essentials to his back and donned his traveler's garb, Xil'Gurash at his side. Once more, he set sail.

For his entire life, luck had followed Harun much as the Wind had. This time, it was not so. The Lady of the Southern Wind was kind and gentle, but the war between her three siblings and herself was a constant and bloody affair, laden with casualties. Every storm, every bout between them brought chaos where they happened, tearing down forests and capsizing great vessels... And Harun rode a single-seat sailing vessel.

The Eastern Wind assaulted the mortal, knowing full well the effect his death would have on his Southern sister. She tried to defend him, beating her brother back as best she could, but in the end Harun's vessel was dashed once more against the grinding cliffs of the Isle of Bezir, his body broken against the rocks of its black shores. His final moments were spent bleeding through the sands, praying to the Southern Sea, Vis, and all the spirits that he knew that his love would survive. In that moment, he passed from this world and into the next. The Southern Wind was enraged, and lashed out at her brother with all the fury and venom she could muster, strangling the life from her kin. To this day, no wind blows to the West south of Bervenia, all life torn from it.

Out of respect to his daughter's loss, the Southern Sea grew more gentle, allowing vessels safe passage through his waters in. To this day, the cliffs of Bezir still howl with the grief of a widow, the Southern wind weeping against the island where they met... Until he returns once more.

Myth: The tale of the Thirteenth Lord of Shadow has been passed down for millenia as a great romance, and a lesson to rulers. Born a young merchant, the Kingslayer made his around the continent on his vessel, bringing gifts back for his one true love, the Southern Sea. Building a vast shadow empire in response to the tyrannical rule of a despot in his homeland, the Sandwalker used the shapeshifting taught to him by his great love to sneak into the lord’s chamber and slit his throat. After this, his rule remade Kalem into a great metropolis, a center of trade and wonder for three hundred years. During this time, loved a great many women and sired many brilliant children, including a great warrior of the North, said to have the blood of dragons in her veins. Eventually, he sacrificed his life to the sea in order to calm her jealous waters, leading to the rain that is her tears along the southern edge of the continent as well as making the sea viable to slower vessels. To this day, the South Sea remains calm and rulers everywhere learn the lesson of restraint from the tale of Lord Emperor Herod II. Harun’s true name is commonly unknown, having only been spoken to his closest companions and spirits. To those in Zidel, he is simply "Jidir," or Grandfather. More likely than not, if a man is born in Zidel, the blood of the Sandwalker runs through his veins.

Relations

* ☠ Enemy * ⚜ Unfriendly * ☯ Neutral * ☮ Friends * ღ Close Friend * ♥ Crush/Significant Other *

• ♥ The Southern Wind: His soulmate and one true love, the Southern Wind is his oldest friend and closest confidante.
• ☮ Xil’Gurash: An old… companion, Xil’Gurash still technically owes Harun a lifedebt, now that the latter has returned to the land of the living.
• ☯ Other: -
• ☯ Other: -
• ☯ Other: -

Extras (Optional)

Character Quote: "Look, when I want things, I take them. Sometimes I even pay for them!"
Theme Song: Some People Call Him Maurice
Anything Else: TBA

The Shattered World

Harun Fakim Al-Kashir, the Thirteenth Lord of Shadow

Harun Fakim Al-Kashir

Character Summary

Name: Harun Fakim Al-Kashir
Aliases: The Thirteenth Lord of Shadow, Sandwalker, Ghosttongue, The Shapeless
Titles:Kingslayer
Age: 28
Time of Death: 5,354 years ago
Place of Origin: Kashemite Empire(now Zidel)
Gender: Male(most of the time)

Physical Attributes

Eyes: Green
Hair: Red
Day To Day Attire: When possible, silks and fine jewelry are all that he wears. In the warm deserts and atop the sea of his homeland, it was rare for Harun to wear a shirt. However, as he has made his way across the land, traveler’s clothes fit him more often than not, his jewelry concealed to avoid confrontation on the road.
Strengths: Excellent at talking his way out of trouble, Speaks with Spirits, Shapeshifting
Weaknesses: Selfish, Secretive, Loyal to a Fault, Physically Weak

Psychological Attributes

Flirtatious * Gregarious * Selfish * Flexible

Sexuality: Curious
Relationship Status: It’s complicated.
Personality: Selfish and strong-willed, Harun is more than willing to take what he wants when he wants it. In many ways, he views thievery as a game rather than a crime, and always seeks a larger job to test himself against. In regards to others, he is friendly and gregarious to a fault, but to truly earn his trust is difficult. Once he views you as a true friend, he is loyal to a fault, many of his past adventures revolving around saving traveling companions from dangers of the road. In his eyes, he protects those he cares for because they become "his people," and thus his responsibility.

Married to a concept more than a physical being and growing up in the brothel pretty much set his interactions with others. An incurable flirt.

Skills & Abilities

• Spirit-Speaking (Master):Given time and resources, Harun can strike up a bargain with any spirit, forming contracts of services on his part over time in exchange for powerful natural phenomena, such as tornadoes and earthquakes. These bargains are single-event deals, however. Generally speaking, the smaller the favor, the smaller the result from the spirit. As an example, if he spent a month campaigning in a city to prevent mining in a local mountain, the spirits of said mountain could reward him with an earthquake on the opposite side of the range. Alternatively, if he left out bread, milk, and honey for a minor spirit of the wind, it could deliver a message for him a few miles away, whispering his voice into the recipient’s ear. Additionally, small offerings tend to win small secrets from spirits. The local bartender likes to sing in the shower, the perfect place for a sunlit nap in the woods, a guardsman has a bad drinking problem, etc. Some of it is more useful than the rest.
• Shapeshifting(Blessing)(Master): Instructed by his former lover, the Lady of the Desert Wind, Harun can transform rapidly between any form of a living creature his size or smaller, his equipment and possessions melding into his form. Upwardly, he can transform into a creature up to the size of a large polar bear, but no bigger. Additionally, he can alter his body on a small scale, meaning that he can duplicate other people in appearance and voice so long as he has seen and heard them before, as well as simply change his facial features, body-type, gender, etc. Often combines this skill with his knife-fighting abilities for explosive results.
• Knife-fighting (Expert):Having spent his life as a child fending off both other urchins and passing slavers, Harun knows his way around a knife very, very well. During his later years, he was known to defeat practiced duelists with his incredible speed and deceptive strength. Many think it possible that he cheated. They are most likely correct.
• Favored of the Wind (Blessing): Lightning will not strike Harun, the love his favored wife bore him keeping him safe to this day. This blessing also bestows a supernatural swiftness in both travel and personal need, the spirits of the wind compelled to help Harun move swiftly on the road, and his time with the Lady of the Sands empowering him with speed beyond a mortal man. This blessing is also the source of the strength his size belies, though it remains well within mortal possibilities.
• Illusion Magic (Skilled): Having stolen quite a few tomes in his time, Harun is fairly well-practiced in Illusion magic, aiding in his favored pastime. An expert by no means, he is more than capable of fooling the common man.
• Cooking (Skill): Quite bad at it, but damn if he doesn’t try.
• Singing (Skill): Actually quite good, his voice sonorous as his mothers’ were.
• Xil’Gurash (Artifact): A sentient blade with a noble soul, the curved dagger Xil’Gurash wants nothing more than to uphold what is right and good in the world, protecting the weak and crushing the rule of tyrants. ...Sadly, as Harun managed to rescue him from the pitch-black caverns of an underground lake system, the blade owes a lifedebt to the thief. A fantastic knife, Xil’Gurash has very little trouble cutting through most substances, living or otherwise. Xil’Gurash also purifies any poison that comes into contact with the blade. In theory, he could save someone poisoned by stabbing them and drawing the venom out, but then they would have a stab wound to contend with. Slightly afraid of the dark. Not currently in Harun’s possession. Supposedly the dagger bears other abilities, but it never allowed Harun access to these as he did not pursue the end of Gurash’s “great foe.” Harun is blatantly not worthy to wield him.

History

Backstory:

His story began in a backwater trade city in the final years of the Kalemite Empire. The lands were harsh and the nobles corrupt, crime flourishing in the cities as protection money was paid from wealthy merchants to powerful crime bosses, the Twelve Lords of Shadow. The drug trade ran rampant, slaves flowed like water, illegal goods were hawked in town squares across the nation. The ruling class controlled the military and in theory the nation, but the true power was in the street and everyone knew it.

Harun Fakim Al-Kashir was born to a prostitute in a back alley who died but a few years after his birth. Thrown out onto the streets with no living family, Harun swiftly learned that he had to choose between the virtue of honesty or food. It was not a hard choice.

His innocent appearance and slender hands lent themselves all too well to picking pockets, and after a time he was indoctrinated into a small gang of forty thieves who worked the docks. Staying at a local brothel that was the front for their operations, he learned how to sing, compose himself when begging, distract someone, and speak with the opposite sex. In larceny, he could use his agility to his advantage, his slender arms and small hands lending themselves wonderfully to reaching into smaller spaces his older bandmates could not. He was an asset, and the leader of the party, a man by the name of Alibaba, became as a father to him. It was during this time that Harun developed his two great loves; women and the desert. His mother’s beauty was not wasted on him, and his name was spoken with venom by fathers and velvet from daughters. During the daylit hours, he would disappear onto the ocean, cruising on a skiff he purchased with his ill-gotten gains. There was always something that seemed to call to him when he got far enough from the city, the promise of new lands, new people, treasures to be gained... But he was always afraid he would grow lost to the tides, and turned back. His family needed him. And so, he spent his nights thieving, fighting, leading the life of a criminal.

As time went on, Alibaba’s Forty Thieves became the dominant power in their city, Alibaba himself rising to the position of one of the Twelve Lords of Shadow in Kalem. They were fighting the law, and sometimes the work was bloody, but they took what they needed and lived happily. Life was good. That is, until the Emperor died and his son came into power.

Lord Emperor Herod II was a shrewd man, and witnessed his empire crumbling in his hands. Seizing upon the last power his father had previously withheld to combat barbarians and raiders, Herod lead his military on a conquest through his own cities, determined to demonstrate who truly held power in Kalem. It was unlike any true war, the Emperor’s Punitive Forces patrolling the streets, finding leads, torturing and trailing their way back to the Twelve in each city of the land. They were then summarily executed, along with every member of their bloodline the Emperor could find. The sands of the streets ran red with blood, and it wasn’t all too long before the Lord Emperor’s Punitive Forces found their way to Harun’s family.

As Harun grew older, prey from the dock became more and more scarce, Alibaba’s thieves forced further and further back as the great crimelords of the land fell, one by one. It was beginning to come true that, one way or another, crime didn’t pay in Kalem anymore. The band began to disperse, going their way one after the other, but Harun, terrified of losing his family, insisted on one last heist to truly stick it to the new Emperor. Alibaba simply smiled, shaking his head at the young one’s insistence. The Forty disbanded, Alibaba disappearing into the world, assuring Harun that he would be safer if they never met again.

Harun’s world had crumbled around him, his family gone. All that was left was the sea, and the bitter rage he felt towards Lord Emperor Herod. Still, he was young, in good health, and had nothing to lose. He set sail.

-set off into the sea, determined to find what he could find
-Got shipwrecked on a deserted island, spoke constantly
-Spoke to the sea, to the trees, to the fish and the sky
-Whispered to the wind, always soft and gentle
-Eventually, the wind responded
-She swept him back to land, they became fast friends, courting happens
-She teaches him how to shapeshift, barter with spirits
-He teaches her how to sing, tells her a new story every night for three years
-Along the way he sails, makes his fortune treasure-hunting from old shipwrecks, robbing the corrupt officials of the Kalemite Empire, tries to find Alibaba
-Alibaba turns out to have been found, tortured, drawn, and quartered in the capital of the Kalemite Empire in a public execution, having been the last living Lord of Shadow
-Travels through the plains, the north, the west on assorted treasure-gathering adventures, going on a Give-a-Moose-a-Muffin type deals with spirits to gather the forces necessary to gather the resources necessary to assault Lord Emperor Herod through his guards, wards, court magicians, etc.
-Rumors of the Thirteenth Shadow Lord surface across Kalem, the Emperor grows paranoid as Harun’s criminal empire grows beneath Herod’s feet
-Night of the Long-Knives type shit goes down, Kalem is no longer safe for anyone
-After seven years from the death of his adopted father, Harun assassinates the Emperor.
-The empire is held together by the shadow-network beneath it, Harun tires of his duties and leaves on a boat to the south, off for one final adventure.
-Wounded in a great storm caused by a clash between the Southern and Eastern winds over the sea, Harun dies alone, watching the love of his life fight for her own.
-The Southern Wind was victorious, still sings through the cliffs of Bezir to this day, in what sounds to be weeping noises

Myth: The tale of the Thirteenth Lord of Shadow has been passed down for millenia as a great romance, and a lesson to rulers. Born a young merchant, the Kingslayer made his around the continent on his vessel, bringing gifts back for his one true love, the Southern Sea. Building a vast shadow empire in response to the tyrannical rule of a tyrant in his homeland, the Larcenous Hero used the shapeshifting taught to him by his great love to sneak into the lord’s chamber and slit his throat. Eventually, he sacrificed his life to the sea in order to calm her jealous waters, leading to the rain that is her tears along the southern edge of the continent as well as making the sea viable to slower vessels. To this day, the South Sea remains calm and rulers everywhere learn the lesson of restraint from the tale of Lord Emperor Herod II. Harun’s true name is commonly unknown, having only been spoken to his closest companions and spirits.

Relations

* ☠ Enemy * ⚜ Unfriendly * ☯ Neutral * ☮ Friends * ღ Close Friend * ♥ Crush/Significant Other *

• ♥ The Southern Wind: His soulmate and one true love, the Southern Wind is his oldest friend and closest confidante.
• ☯ Xil’Gurash: An old… companion, Xil’Gurash still technically owes Jazir a lifedebt, now that the latter has returned to the land of the living.
• ☯ Other: -
• ☯ Other: -
• ☯ Other: -

Extras (Optional)

Character Quote: "You walk somewhere, see something you want, agonize that you can't afford it and leave. Eventually, prices rise so high that the peasants revolt, and grab that nice bottle of port from the store in the looting. I just skip the messy bits."
Theme Song: In Description of his Love Life
Anything Else: TBA

The Shattered World

@Lyla
Sweeeeet. So should I PM for more detailed questions about character creation, or just make the CS and drop it off with you for review? Just trying to keep time consistent with what we already have without jumping on the Camelot wagon, not that a Mordred equivalent wouldn't be a fun concept.