Ziarah

[Ziarah]

Ziarah Appearance Race: Benshira Gender: Female Age: 17 Birthday: Autumn 3, 496 Birthplace: Eyktol Height: 5’5” Weight: 109 Eyes: Light Blue Hair: Dark Brown Appearance: Ziarah stands at 5’5” and carries herself with a careful poise, as though surrounded by potential threats at all times. Her body is lithe, slender but strong, well suited for speed and acrobatics. Not particularly blessed with curves, her silhouette is very thin, tapering to her tiny waist and flaring slightly for her slim hips. She has thick wavy hair, the color such a deep brown that in most lighting it appears nearly black, but direct sunlight reveals highlights of dark gold. When worn down it cascades to just below her shoulder blades, rebellious and wild looking. Every morning she plaits it into a long braid and wraps it around her head in a neat, tight crown. Ziarah’s most remarkable feature would be her clear blue eyes, pale and striking against her caramel skin. They are perhaps a bit too large for her face, deep set and framed with long dark lashes. Her face is heart shaped, with a wide forehead, high cheekbones, and a small nose and chin. Her mouth is small, with full lips in a consistently cat like pout. Character Concept Ziarah is, at her center, a very kind hearted girl with a deep longing for love and affection. Had her past not shaped her so particularly, she might have become a healer, or simply raised a family and developed an aptitude for making tea. As it is, her heart has been hardened into something much more callous. Though she does not deliberately wish to harm others, she simply has a much narrower definition of harm than most. Raised to be wary and suspicious, Ziarah was taught that most people are only looking out for themselves and therefore cannot be trusted. Of course, that means she should feel no guilt in behaving similarly… which is how she justifies her life of guile and thievery, stealth and solitude. The price of such a life is a dim loneliness that creeps in on her, stealing the beauty from bird song in the mornings, damping the warmth from campfire at night, even saddening the rush she gets from a successful swindle. Ziarah is extremely self sufficient, and quite proud of that, but she still longs to have someone to share it all with. Though she is inherently slow to trust, anybody who gets past her barriers and earns a place in her heart will forever have her loyalty. The girl who hunts the deep forest, sleeps under the stars, and occasionally dances in the firelight is one of quiet passions and somber thought. She is not ambitious, but is driven merely by joy of life and a lust for adventure. Though her private self is quiet and pensive, her public façade is anything but. When she has her eyes set on a mark, Ziarah can be anything from sweet and naïve to loud and obnoxious… whatever it takes to get the job done. Character History Ziarah was born in Eyktol, fourth child for her father, Hemeh, and her mother Ashina. Unfortunately, she would never know Ashina, who passed away giving birth to her only daughter. This tragedy rattled the family severely, but Ziarah was raised well by her father and three elder brothers. When she was six years old, her father fell deeply in love with a beautiful Chaktawe merchant named Kahua. Such a union brought condemnation to Hemeh, and in order to keep his love he left to form his own tent. Ziarah’s elder brothers remained behind, too ashamed of their father to join in what they considered a great mistake. And so the family became simply Ziarah, her father, and his new love, Kahua. They became nomads on their own, raising a small flock of sheep and living a humble, poor, but decidedly happy life. For two years they went on this way, living on little else but their love for each other. Ziarah was happy to finally know a mother, and Kahua took that role very seriously. Unfortunately for all of them, that sweet simple life was cut far too short. At the tender age of eight Ziarah’s family was assaulted in the night by bandits. They may have let them all live, were it not for Hemeh’s fierce pride. He fought them off bravely, killing two of their number, and in their rage they slew him and his beloved Chaktawe wife. What precious few belongings the family had owned were quickly hoarded, and the remnants of their camp put to flame. As the ashes cooled the bandits were left to decide what to do with the child they had orphaned. Ziarah sat in the dunes, face streaked with blood and soot, paralyzed by shock and grief. They condemned her to die alone in the desert, none of them having the heart to slay the girl then and there. As they rode off into the distance, Ziarah curled up on the sand, still warm from the fire, and slept for hours. She awoke from a nightmare with the sun glaring down at her in full force, her lips dry and cracked and her dirty face streaked with tears. Surveying the carnage around her she realized with dim horror that if she did nothing she would die quickly, just as the bandits had intended. She rose on her shaky legs and coughed, a harsh heavy sound that brought with it the taste of smoke and flame. With tenderness she bid farewell to her fallen family, gently closing their eyelids and pressing a kiss to each bloodied cheek. In a stroke of luck she found her father still had a waterskin strapped to his body, so she carefully removed it and strapped it on herself. With a whisper of goodbye she turned away from the heartbreak, and even as tears blurred her vision she gathered her strength and set out into the desert. Ziarah knew there was little hope for her now, but she had too much willpower to simply lay down in the desert and die. For hours she walked on, her feet blistering until they became but a grinding pain, and still she walked. At some point during the sunset, though she has no memory of this moment, her body simply gave up and she fell to the sand again in exhausted slumber. When she awoke it was to the sound of fire, and for a terrible second she was visited by the cruel memories of her life gone up in smoke. With a brittle scream she leapt to her feet, and just as quickly her foggy head brought her down again. Cautiously she surveyed her environment, noting the campfire that had so alarmed her, and the bubbling pot of stew that was being prepared. Her stomach growled ravenously in response to the aroma of food, and she realized how very thirsty she was. Surveying her with equal wariness from across the fire was a grizzled looking human, somewhere in the middle of his lifespan though his greying hair and harsh, lined face made him look considerably older. His eyes, however, were a soft blue, and shone on her with kindness. Ziarah realized then that against all odds she had been saved. Somehow in the vast emptiness of the desert she had been stumbled upon, and by someone who meant to help her. And so she was introduced to Kollin Ironbark, aging rogue who saw in Ziarah a chance to atone, perhaps, for the family he had lost so long ago. That night they shared the first of many meals together, and in the morning he began teaching her the common language, eager for a way to communicate. Over the next nine years Ziarah bonded with the old thief, and her skills grew every day. He taught her to steal, to hunt, to survive in the wilderness. Most importantly, he gave her a new way to look at the world. “Tragedy happens to everyone”, he said, “because people are only looking out for themselves and the few that they care about. Other people’s suffering becomes irrelevant when you have starving mouths to feed. People are capable of horrific things, but I will teach you how to make sure you are never on the receiving end again.” They survived together on the fringes of society, traveling constantly and spending their nights much like they did that first one, huddled around the campfire with their bellies full of wild game. When it was necessary, they would venture into the cities to pull a con or two, pick a couple pockets, and occasionally even sell their thievery services to others. Ziarah gradually forgot her heritage, losing the culture she had been born to and becoming something else entirely. She was pure rogue, living for the thrill of the game and the approval of her mentor. One rainy morning, shortly after Ziarah had turned seventeen, she awoke to find herself alone in camp. The fire had sizzled down to nothing, and the familiar bulk of her dear companion was gone, along with his belongings and his horse. With panic rising in her heart she crawled from her blankets and spotted an unfamiliar object beside her tent. As dread settled mercilessly in the pit of her stomach she seized the handcrafted shortbow, noting the intricate gold paint and reading the small words that had been carved into it. “Be strong. Be fierce. Be brave. Find your place and be happy. – K.I.” Language Fluent Language: Common Basic Language: Shiber Poor Language: Fratava Skills Skill EXP Total Proficiency Wilderness Survival 10 RB, 5 SP 15 Novice Larceny 10 SP 10 Novice Hunting 10 SP 10 Novice Fishing 5 SP 5 Novice Weapon: Shortbow 10 SP 10 Novice Fletching/Bowing 5 SP 5 Novice Stealth 5 SP 5 Novice Lores Lore: Proper shortbow stance Lore: Types of wood for fletching/bowing Possessions Hunting Knife Quiver Shortbow Arrows (200) Archery Glove Archers Arm Guard Studded Leather Armor 1 Set of Clothing -Simple Undergarments -White Tunic -Green Pants -Brown Cloak -Brown Boots 1 Waterskin 1 Backpack which contains: -Comb (Wood) -Brush (Wood) -Soap -Razor -Balanced Rations (1 Week's worth) -1 eating knife -Flint & Steel Heirloom: Shortbow left to Ziarah by her mentor, Kollin Ironbark Housing Location: Outskirts of Zeltiva House: -1 large tent (4 person) -large tarp -100 ft of rope -flint & steel -lantern -2 torches -bedroll -blanket -fishing tackle & hooks -compass -full set of tack -large set of saddlebags - 1 Gildling Horse, 15hh, Dun colored, named Aura Ledger Purchase Cost Total Starting +100 GM 100 GM Quiver -20 GM 80 GM Shortbow Arrows (200) -10 GM 70 GM Archery Glove -1 GM 69 GM Archery Arm Guard -1 GM 68 GM Studded Leather Armor -25 GM 43 GM Hunting Knife -5 SM 42 GM 5 SM Thread List …

[Crosspatch]

Hello there!

I'm Crosspatch, one of the friendly CS Liaisons on Mizahar! I've been looking over your Character Sheet, and I have noticed some minor issues that need to be resolved and fixed. Sadly these need to be done before you can continue roleplaying, so let's take a look at them shall we?

• Please link your CS to your profile. This can be done through the user control panel.
• You are missing your two starting lores. A lore is some form of general knowledge that the character has gained over their lifetime. Such as knowledge on a particular deity or knowing the layout of a particular city.
• Please label your weapon skill as “Weapon: Weapon name.” For example to use a Shortbow it would be labelled as “Weapon: Shortbow“.

Once these problems have been dealt with, drop me a PM and I'll remove this intervention and approve your CS for you. Also if you have any questions don't hesitate to ask and I'll do my best to answer!


Crosspatch