The Alpha and Omega
A Southern assassin under the employment of the Nizari.
Languages: Barbarian, Northern, Southern
|Human||Diversity||–||–||(P) Distribute 3 trait points across 1 or more traits|
|Human||Quick Learner||–||–||(P) 100 bonus EP towards Mundane Skills|
|Defense||Resilience 1||1.1||100||(P) +1 PA and MA|
|Finesse||Initiative 2||2.0||300||(P) -6 from Assessment rolls|
|Finesse||Quick Draw||1.1||100||(P) Reduce weapon equip times to 1|
|Finesse||Melee Marksman||1.2||100||(P) Re-roll 1 damage dice per damage roll|
|Finesse||Precision||1.3||100||(T) Re-roll any number of damage dice|
|Finesse||Weak Spot||2.1||200||(P) +3 PaPen with martial attacks|
|Finesse||Parry||1.1||100||(T) +4 Def against one melee attack|
|Finesse||Two Weapon Fighter||1.2||100||(P) Reduce offhand Att penalty by 2|
|Finesse||Follow Up||1.3||100||(T) Make offhand attack when hit with forehand|
|Finesse||Duelist||1.3||100||(P) -1 martial Stamina costs w/ one enemy|
|Finesse||Parry Riposte||2.1||200||(P) When Parried attack misses make an attack with Parry weapon|
|Offense||Adrenaline Rush 1||1.1||100||(P) +1 Stamina on hits|
|Proficiency||Blade||1.0||50||(P) Proficient with blades|
|Athletics||Athlete 2||2.0||150||(P) Running, Jumping; +10 to Athletics rolls|
|Athletics||Climbing||1.2||50||(P) Basic climbing techniques|
|Athletics||Acrobatics||1.2||50||(P) Tumbling and Balance Techniques|
|Athletics||Parkour||2.1||100||(P) Complex Acrobatics and Climbing|
|Crime||Criminal 2||2.0||150||(P) Perform criminal acts; +10 to Crime rolls|
|Crime||Sleight of Hand||1.1||50||(P) Make objects disappear|
|Crime||Stealth||1.1||50||(P) Move silently and hide in cover or shadows|
|Crime||Security Systems||1.2||50||(P) Pick locks, detect traps and hidden doors|
|Communications||People Person 1||1.0||50||(P) Literacy|
Blood Price: B=(D*(D+1)/2)
Immunity to Manticore Poison
Hello, my name is Abdul-Hamid Salim. I grew up in the Southern kingdoms in the barbarian lands. The name of my tribe was the Khazeray. We were a strong people, but we were very few, and for that reason we were often taken advantage of by other larger tribes that lived in close proximity. Our enemies burned our crops, stole our wealth, raped our women, and killed our children. Despite all of our hardships, we continued to make a life for ourselves in the desert. As time dragged on for my people we became more and more downtrodden. At times people wished to leave the tribe and try life alone in the desert, but my grandfather, the chief, cast these ideas aside. No one was stronger in these times than my grandfather.
Ever since I was a child I had a deep respect for my grandfather, the former chief. My Father took over the title of chief when I was very young and so I was raised mostly by my grandfather and mother while my father was working. My grandfather, Ali, was a great warrior and a strong leader. His skill with people matched his skill with a blade, and his combat expertise was well known across the desert. When I was only 8 years old he started training me in the art of swordsmanship. Even at a young age I was quick and cunning. I learned faster than any pupil my grandfather had ever taught, and by the age of 14 I was known as the best duelist in the tribe, second only to my teacher. I could easily bait and outsmart stronger opponents and use their own strengths against them.
When I was sixteen years old our village was attacked; this time it was not a raid by a neighboring tribe. The dragon, Vul Sivaas, who was known for attacking the desert cities in his search for gold, happened upon our village and in his greed attacked. I have never been as scared in my life as I was that day. I saw firsthand the power of the legendary dragons that day. Spells turned in his path; arrows and steel simply bounced off his cold black hide as if it were made of iron. With wing, jaw, tail, and claw he slew our warriors a dozen at a time. I watched as he approached my father and ripped him to pieces in front of his people and burned his mangled carcass until not even ash remained. It was at this point that my grandfather approached Vul Sivaas,
“Leave us, and I will let you live mighty dragon; stay, and I will have no choice but to end your life." Sivaas reared back and let out a mighty roar, “You dare challenge a dragon? And of all dragons challenge me? Vul Sivaas? I have killed thousands of southerners, ended the bloodlines of kings, crumbled the mightiest creations of men, and cast spells elves have not even discovered. Do you honestly think you, an old man, can match my power?” Ali merely smiled, “We shall see.”
In an instant he was upon the dragon. Sivaas let out a yelp of pain as Ali slashed the creature’s rear leg thrice before he could react. Sivaas jumped into the air and began to beat his broad wings but Ali was ready. He leapt through the air and sliced through the thin membrane on the creatures right wing. Sivaas fell back to the ground, and engaged Ali in combat. For hours they battled. No matter how fast and how furiously Sivaas attacked, my Grandfather was always able to avoid his strikes and slip in a few of his own. As the battle dragged on Sivaas’ actions became slow and more reckless until he descended upon Grandfather for one last final effort to slay his foe. Ali saw Sivaas’ mistake, the dragon had left his poorly armored abdomen undefended. Ali plunged his blade into the creature until pommel hit flesh. The dragon fell to the ground dead. The tribe was safe, or what was left of it.
Though the losses our people suffered that day were great, the dragon ended up being a benefit to our tribe in the long run. The tale of Ali became well-known through out the desert. Tribes that once raided us were now afraid of Ali’s wrath and offered him treasure and riches in exchange for their safety. We made many allies and we went through a time of great prosperity.
It was a little over 2 years later, on my 19th birthday that everything went to hell. Priests from the north came into our lands and tried to spread the word of the creator and convert people to their ways. Grandfather, who had been named chief again, told them he was not interested. He gave them camels and supplies and wished them luck in their journey back to the north; this was a mistake. In the night our village was attacked by the Holy Hand. Grandfather told me to run and warn the other tribes. When I returned with our allies, everyone was dead and the Holy Hand had already left. I took what family heirlooms I could: my grandfather’s sword and armor and my mother’s precious wedding ring.
I began traveling the desert alone, wandering from city to city taking mercenary work. It was during this time that I met a very special person by the name of Jasmine. I had taken a job as a bodyguard for a son of one of the Sultans. Most of the other guards spent the nights getting drunk, but I preferred to sit a ways from the camp and stay on watch while I looked at the stars and sang folk songs from my tribe. During one of these watches I saw a shadowy figure approach our camp. Naturally, I got up and trailed the figure to the entrance of the Sultan’s son’s tent. Before the figure could open the flap I put my sword to its neck. That was a bad idea.
I woke up a few miles from my camp with the most beautiful woman I had ever seen standing over me, smiling. I looked at my hands and feet, neither were bound. I jumped up and reached for my sword, it was there. The woman laughed,
“Don’t hurt yourself big boy. If I wanted you dead, you would be. I gave you a pretty potent toxin, so you should probably just rest for now.” “You poisoned me?” I asked, still quite confused. The woman smiled again, “Yes dear, I did; I could not risk you causing me to fail my assignment. Now rest, Mother will want to meet you.”
This was Jasmine, daughter of Mother, the leader and organizer of the Naziri, a guild of skilled assassins in the Southern lands. Long story short, I was accepted into the guild and trained by Jasmine in the ways of stealth and deceit. Over many years I was trained to be anything Mother needed. I worked my way up through the ranks until I was considered Jasmine’s equal, she the right hand of Mother and I the left. Together we made a name for the Naziri as not just a group of sightless bloodthirsty assassins, but as a band of sophisticated killers with a purpose and motive.
During our service to the guild Jasmine and I fell in love. The day I admitted this to myself was the day I took on my hardest task yet: asking Mother for Jasmine’s hand in marriage. When I approached her she was reading. Before I could ask her anything she spoke,
“What makes you think you are worthy of my daughter?” she said without looking up from her book. I thought for a moment then replied slowly, “I am not worthy, we both know that; but given the chance, I will do everything I can to make you and her proud to have me as part of your family." Mother looked up at me and smiled, “I am already proud, my child; you may have my blessing, on one condition.” Her smile quickly quickly faded. “There is a task that needs doing in the north, and with Jasmine away I can trust no one else with it: you must eliminate the chief of police in the Holy City. Now make haste.” “Yes mother.”
I killed him, but as you can see, Greg, it did not go too smoothly.