Aspects:
Nomad
Nomad
Nomad
Crescent Lightning
Servant of Prophecy
Skills:
Riding xx
Survival (Desert) xx
Cavalry xxx
Nomad xxxx
Danger Sense xx
Awareness xxx
Intimidate x
Listen x
Endurance x
Language of the Isles x
Pure Taji x
Literacy x
Description
Khalid is a tall, powerfully built man, standing 6′3″ or 6′4″. He wears long flowing robes by choice, although this may change as climate and situation dictates. His skin is brown, but not too dark. He has both hair on his head and a short beard, both a very dark brown. However it is his eyes that are particularly noticable, as they are bright blue, a colour for which his tribe are known.
Background
Khalid was born into the family and tribe Girekh, a nomad band who roamed the deserts of Ahinsin. The tribe has existed for hundreds of years, occasionally coming into contact with outsiders for trade or marriage and then disappearing back into the sands. As with many of the tribes of that land there were rumours about them, that they could move without sound, stand invisible in the noon-day sun and strike like the lightning. As with many such rumours these were mostly untrue. But only mostly.
Khalid was born to one of the warriors of the tribe, Khaled, and raised as they all were, in the ways of the desert and in the path of the warrior, to survive in this harsh land. When he came into his manhood training began in the in those skills that marked the true nomads of the deserts from those who merely rode around
on horses. He was thought unusually suitable for these.
Indeed, the young nomad proved to be quite adept at these skills, moreso than any in a generation, and the chief’s son grew jealous, sure that Khalid would attept to replace him in what he saw as his rightful progression. So the chief’s son acted to remove him, sending him out into the desert and hiring outsiders to kill him when he was far from the current camp. They were about to fulfill this contract, for ten against one is difficult, even to one trained in the desert arts, when nature moved against them.
A bolt of lightning, pure and sharp, lanced down from the clear sky. Those attackers that were not injured fled. Khalid only realised later that they did so because the bolt struck him, but he felt nothing. In the sand at his feet lay a sword, newly forged, still warm. A curving desert scimitar like the one he wore, but of a quality unmatched. Script was visible, but incomprehensible, on both sides of the blade. Then there was a voice, loud and clear, saying, “Go to the Isles that war, go there to find peace. Go to find one who can read the blade, go there to find knowledge. Go and bring the light of the desert to the dark of the isles, go there to find purpose.”
So he went. He took up the blade, climbed upon his horse and travelled towards the coast…
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