Zafirah Hashim is a
Wild Child, and always has been, and probably always will be. Born
under a New Moon with a strange bright red comet in the sky, she was
constantly getting into trouble as a child, driving her mother and
father almost insane trying to keep up with her antics. Everyone was
surprised when she came up with the idea that she wanted to become
devoted to the Pillar of Fire as a Priestess. Her mother, ever the
practical one, pointed out to her that that particular path required
dedication and constancy. Her father threw his hands up in the air
and wished the Pillar of Fire luck, as he had no doubt she would do
exactly what she wanted. She always did. Zafirah did not fit in well
with priestesses to the Pillar of Fire. She felt the need to move, to
dance, whenever she was in the presence of fire. As the path to
learning to become a Priestess required one to be still first, so
that one would listen and could hear the lessons and the platitudes
and spells, she was never actually trained as a Priestess. The High
Priestesses finally despaired of ever taming her, and shooed her out
of the temples, with promises she would never be a priestess until
she calmed down and fit in with the others. Zafirah informed them
that she didn’t need to fit in. She needed to worship the Pillar of
Flame the way it should be worshiped. Through her dances. And
interestingly, somehow, she thought the Fires responded when she
danced around and with them.
She lost herself in
the dances of her people. It had been one of the only things Zafirah
had ever taken seriously enough to impress her parents, so they kept
her with the dance teachers, never realizing how talented she truly
was. Zafirah now danced for the Pillar. Every dance, she dedicated to
it. And she felt stronger in every way, and more focused, during and
after every time she danced.
Another way they
kept her busy was her fascination with alchemy. She was fascinated
with herbs and chemicals, their properties, both alone and as they
worked together. She had started, in all honesty, with perfumes, as
she was unsatisfied with the cloying heavy sweetness that was
typically found in abundance around her household. She preferred more
natural scents. The smell on leaves after a rain, which she had
smelled one time, long, long ago, while on a trip with her father in
a foreign land. She didn’t know which one. She was too young. But
she remembered the scent, and that had been the first she’d set
about creating. Desert flowers were next. Only one at a time, though,
as too many together were too much. Next, she’d set about cooking
things in the kitchen, and the cooks had thrown many worried glances
at each other as she’d begun learning their profession. After minor
burns and cuts, most of them easy to hide from her status-obsessed
parents as they healed, she had proven herself a rather adept chef,
earning the approval of the head cook in their kitchens, and even
earning a reputation whispered about in other tribes round about.
From there, she took on potions. She’s just begun learning health
potions, magic potions, potions for all things she can find. She’s
been reading every scroll and book, and snagging every teacher and
mentor she can find, all to better her craft.
She loves to learn.
That’s why it was only with little surprise that she was found to
be a Desert Mystic. The only surprise was how relatively late in life
she had been recognized to be one. She’d been a young
twenty-something; had already become an excellent cook, was
progressing well with her dance and her alchemy, had been refused by
the priestesses. And she’d gotten mad, finally, truly, mad, in a
market place.
A stranger, a man,
had thrown the young woman he was with to the ground, picked up a
rock, and threw it at her head. The rock stopped inches away. It
would have been very bad had it connected. It was a big rock, and it
was aimed and so close to her delicate eyes. The rock spun in place
for a moment as the crowd that had gathered around the yelling man
gasped collectively. Then, with speed and precision, it flew at the
man. It did not hit him only once; oh no, for Zafirah had seen scars
and old bruises under new bruises. It hit, then retreated, hit, then
retreated, til the man was on the ground in fetal position, his knees
drawn up to his chest, his arms attempting and failing to ward off
the invisible attacker. Another man, older, with salt and pepper
hair, a slender build, tall, with wide shoulders, across from the
circle around the downed abuser, clucked once, and the rock flew to
his hand. He chuckled as he tossed it up and down, catching it.
As his gaze locked
with Zafirah, he smiled a wide smile, a genuine one. “You beat me
to the punch,” he said, his eyes twinkled. “Now come. You have a
lot to learn, and the first is control over yourself, then, this,”
he said, as he raised the rock. He tossed a small pouch of coins to
the battered woman, just now, wide-eyed, getting to her feet, staring
at her husband. “Go now, Mistress,” he advised her. “Find a
judge, and leave him. You’ve just been given a second chance at
life.” She nodded, and dashed off, clutching the coins with both
hands as she blended into the confused and dissipating crowd. The
man smiled back at Zafirah, who, amazingly, did not find his smiles
to be too much. He seemed at peace and happy. “That’s because I
am happy,” he quipped. Her shocked face made his grin wicked. “And
yes, this is something you can learn to do, too. Being a Mystic is
all about learning. I would bet you’ve been searching for us as
hard as we’ve been searching for you, yes? You jump about, learning
everything you can about everything?” “Yes,” Zafirah said.
“Then come with me. And we will begin your training.”
Zafirah took leave
of her parents’ home that night, her most valued possessions in her
bags with her. She’d come a ways since then. Training had proven
something she could throw herself into. She loved reading the scrolls
and books available, and listening to Mystic elders as they taught.
She still sought the fires, though, and worshiped at the licking
flames with her dance. The Pillar of Flame had not given up on
blessing her. She would not give up dancing for it. Her mentor was
the man who had found her. Akkan Harneen was a difficult teacher to
impress, but gave praise where and when it was due. He encouraged her
every day to be better than the previous day. She still hadn’t
learned how he’d learned how to hear her thoughts. He said one day,
he might teach her that trick. But not yet.
It was because of
Akkan she now found herself traveling to a distant land to a boat.
The word was strange to her. Boat. And other words: port, ocean,
rivers, seas… He said it was time she went out into the world, and
that she would learn along the way. He sent some scrolls with her,
and a few books she hadn’t read yet, and enough gold and silver to
book passage on the first vessel she would come across. That was
important, he’d said. The first vessel, no matter what. He said
she’d need them soon enough. She was sent with special armour which
mimicked her typical dancing skirts and tops, and weapons to keep her
safe as she crossed the desert. Of course she had her scimitar her
family had given her when she’d become an adult. She had traded
with a merchant from the Vinci lands, and had gotten her hands on a
crossbow and a quarterstaff, which she had trained with as a child.
She wasn’t an expert, but she was good enough as needed. Besides,
they were excellent for walking across the dunes and for hunting
small game as she went along. And as Zafirah watched the stars whirl
and dance overhead, she knew something big was going to happen soon.
Gaming Personality: Tactician, Method Actor, Storyteller
Character Goals: Claim a birthright, Learn some knowledge that has been lost or hidden, Having nice/expensive/rare things (she loves shopping!)
Why is this important to my character? A quest for self-improvement, Searching for spiritual enlightenment, Seemed like fun, The money in it is just too good, I just feel that I must, a compulsion probably routed in a childhood experience.
Obvious Obstacles: It's really far away, I am missing a key piece of information, There are no clues whatsoever (my mentor said "Go get on the first boat at the port, and go for it!")
