Draheem el-Zabbar
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Character: Draheen el-Zabbar
Player: IathouzA light morning breeze blew the desert heat around forming small dust devils between the collection of traveling tents. A boy of ten years stood outside one of the tents watching men load camels with supplies for a long journey across the desert and beyond. A short older man pushed the flap of the tent out of the way as he exited. The boy didn’t turn until he heard the man speak his name.
“Draheem, my son, come here.” It was the voice of a man used to giving orders. The boy turned and walked to his father, shading his eyes from the hot morning sun. “Draheem, its time for you to become man.” He gestured out at the tents and camels with a sweeping hand. “This will be your home for the next three years. The Sultan desires a trade route be established to the infidels to our far north and west. You are going to help. I have secured you a job as a camel tender for Hassan Kahled the expedition leader. He will teach you the art of the sword. Be mindful son. The honor of our family travels with you. If you should fail do not return, for the Sultan’s fury will be swift and overwhelming.”
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BUMP
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@89789c1fde=Iathouz:
It's background. Was it supposed to be just one entry?
Oh ok cool, its Background then!
You see, usualy when people write a backgroudn story for their new Character, they usualy write a story about the character… where it came from, how it ended up in Narfell, prety mutch they reveal a little bit of their new Character past, hence the name "Background" story, and usualy that is a story that (no matter how long/short it is) is posted in just one (1) post. Later on, i will read it and award a determined ammount of XP. That XP will be droped on your character in the first oportunity that a DM has to see you IG.
Now, when people whant to keep writing about their Character as days go by, then we have a special place where people may keep on writing about their character... about its past, present and even future. And that place is "Tales by the Fire".
Anyway, you let us know when your Background is over
Again, great reading!
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::Chuckles:: That's the longest background yet. It's a great read though - just let us know when you're done, so we know to award to XP.
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It's background. Was it supposed to be just one entry?
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Hey there buddy!Great reading! But im afraid im a little bit confused here… Is this your new Character Background story, or is a "journal" ?
If it is a journal or somethign similar to that, the best place to put it is in the "Tales by the Fire" that way you can keep on writing storys and post them in your thread
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An endless sea of burning sand stretched out into the distant horizon. Draheem walked slowly leading five camels at the head of the caravan. Only Hassan, riding point on his jet black stallion, was ahead of him. Each tedious mile droned by in dull lethargy. He had lost count of how many days they had traveled, each a grueling gauntlet of heat and boredom. The only thing that had broken the monotony was a series of tracks leading off into nowhere, that Hassan had claimed belonged to a species of giant beetle that thrived in the deep desert. Hassan had paid them little heed and continued on, slow and steady.
Hassan’s horse stopped suddenly. The tall nomad leaned over and whispered something in its ear. Draheem’s lead camel took several more steps closing to within twenty feet of the stallion, then stopped as well. It let out a low mournful bey which brought the rest of the camel train to a halt. Hassan looked quickly to either side, then slowly reached over his shoulder for the falchion, almost like he was trying to draw it unnoticed.
The sand in front of Hassan’s steed erupted in a fury of hairy legs and slashing mandibles as the giant spider slammed the horse backwards, sending Hassan hurtling through the air past Draheem. The boy stood in stunned fascination as the arachnid, almost the size of a camel, wrapped the horse up in its legs and sank its fangs deep into its neck. A second spider, then a third raced out of the hole in the dunes, rushing straight at Draheem. His feet locked to the spot as several more spiders followed. He could see the coarse black hair covering the legs and body of the lead spider as it bore down on him. Eight eyes all focused on him, leering at him. A clear fluid pooled on the end of it fangs, as its legs carried it smoothly closer. It sprang the last ten feet. He heard a quick whistling noise as the falchion’s tip clipped the top of his left ear and met the spider just below its eyes. Draheem heard the sharp crack of an axe breaking dry kindling as Hassan’s blow took the top of the creature’s head off. The dervish spun, carrying himself on to the next spider with no regard to his own safety.
“MOVE BOY” Hassan bellowed as the dead spider’s momentum knocked Draheem down to the ground. Hassan ducked underneath the next one, cleaving off all four legs on its right side as he passed through. Draheem wiggled out from under the carcass, cool spider fluids running down his shirt, mixing with the hot blood from his ear. He pulled the scimitar from his belt on the third try, just in time to see Hassan enguage the spider that killed his horse in a deadly game of lunge and counter stroke. Guards were battling several other spiders with varying degrees of success. He saw two seasoned veterans holding off an arachnid with long spears, landing jabs as the monstrosity danced back and forth before them. The huge spider coiled and sprang upwards to a height of almost thirty feet before landing next to one of the guards, shearing his head off in one powerful bite. The remaining guard drove the spear through the creature’s thorax. It shuddered and collapsed to the ground.
A panic had seized the caravan. Screams filled the air, and camels scattered in all directions. The spiders seized the opportunity and picked off those foolish enough to run off alone. A hard carapaced, hairy appendage struck Draheem to the ground. The four legged spider dragged itself towards him. Lights spun around his head as he jumped back to his feet. A week earlier he would have been easy prey, but Hassan’s harsh lessons had been worth every moment. He spun to the creature’s wounded side, out of the reach of its flailing legs, and stabbed the scimitar into the soft inner organs of the spider. It gave a shrill shriek and slumped into stillness.
Hassan’s spider suddenly pulled back and away from the warrior, and vanished it the tunnel. The other four remaining spiders followed it rapidly. Hassan’s shoulders slumped a little and his blade drooped to the ground. Out of the corner of his eye he caught the last dying twitch of his horse. The falchion snapped up into a guard position. “You’ll not get away from me that easy.” Hassan’s cloak whipped about him as he strode with purpose towards the tunnel in the sand. It was then that Draheem first heard the howling of the wind. To the south, an ominous darkness boiled up out of the desert. Hassan saw it to. “Boy! Sand Storm! Get my camels in this tunnel. Hurry, there isn’t much time.”
Fattah el-Waheddi suddenly appeared as if out of thin air, not a thread of his richly embroidered robe even slightly out of place. “What about the spiders?”
Hassan threw him a dark glance. “The spiders are mine, you can’t have any of them.”
The nomad spun on one foot and vanished into the dark tunnel.
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The scimitar landed in the sand at Draheem’s feet. The late day sun reflecting off the blade blinded him briefly. The caravan had stopped its westward trek at an oasis, and now that the animals were cared for and the tents pitched, he had some time before preparing the evening meal.
“Take it boy. It is my gift to you.” Hassan stood with his back to the sun, the light casting a halo around his head and blurring the outline of his body. He stood tall and firm, like he was the sole ruler of the desert. Draheem bent down and picked it up. The scimitar was heavy in his hands, with the balance far out onto the blade. His hands gripped the sweat stained leather wrapped handle tightly. The weapon had a reassuring feel.
“Your first lesson starts today. Attack me.”
Draheem hesitated. Hassan had not drawn a weapon. “But…”
The angry response was sudden and harsh. “Don’t presume to argue with your better whelp! Attack me or spend the evening under the caress of the lash!” Draheem had all ready known the lash while learning his job as camel tender. Hassan was not a patient nor gentle man. The boy hoisted the weapon up over his right shoulder and charged his instructor and swung with all his might. Hassan stepped back slightly, then spun to his own left, just out of reach. His path carried him behind Draheem and he put his boot up against the student’s back and pushed. Draheem sprawled face first into the hot sand, the scimitar cartwheeling away from him.
“Never drop your blade. Pick it up” The boy scrambled after the weapon. “Again.” This time Draheem cut from the side in a large sweep. Hassan stepped inside the swing, putting his food behind Draheem’s leg and pushing him over. He landed flat on his back, and instantly swung an awkward blow at Hassan’s knees. The towering warrior kicked Draheem in the wrist, and again the blade went sailing. Hassan chuckled. “You have the right spirit at least.” Hassan drew his weapon off his shoulder smoothly and quietly. A cold chill ran down Draheem’s spine as he knew fear. The point of the falchion dropped until it was under the boy’s chin. He crawled backwards as his master pressed the point into his skin. “You over extend yourself child. Always keep control of the blade, do not let it control you.” The cruel edged sword was removed, and Draheem stood up again. “Again,” sneered Hassan.
An hour of boot marks followed. Each attack Draheem made improved, yet each was beaten down by the master. Finally Hassan stopped. He looked around as if seeing where he was for the first time. He slid the weapon back over his shoulder and fixed his student with a stern gaze. “Lessons are over. Go make my dinner.”
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Hassan Kahled was a tall man with dark, intense eyes. He towered over the rest of the caravan, a giant among children it seemed. His jet black hair spilled down about his shoulders and matched the thin line of the mustache that ran along either side of his mouth. He was lean, but rippled with compact muscle. Over his shoulder was a huge, heavy bladed Falchion, its keen edge ran to a cruel drop point at the end. The men of the caravan stepped quickly out of his way as he walked by, black cloak skimming just over the desert sand.
The tall warrior walked swiftly, past the camels being load with trade goods and supplies, at last stopping before his tent. Three people waited for him, the boy Draheem, his mother Atiya, and the sultan’s advisor Fattah el-Waheddi. Without hesitation he strode up the sultan’s advisor.
“Fattah.” He said plainly. His eyes moved from the advisor to the tent flap, then his head tipped slightly in that direction. Fattah wasted no time entering the tent. Hassan paused for a moment to look at Atiya, hidden beneath the traditional robes and veiled hood, a lock of raven hair peering out from beneath it.
“A moment please,” she said in a soft voice. She kept her eyes away from him as custom dictated.
“Atiya, it has been a long time.” He turned his attention to the boy, then reached out to lift his chin to look him in the eyes. “This must be Draheem.”
“I have brought him to you as my husband commanded.”
Hassan turned Draheem’s head left then right. He then poked him in the ribs with the other hand. “The boy is soft. He has had life too easy. No matter, that will change shortly.”
“He is my oldest son, I beg you to keep him safe. He is special to me.”
A smirk played across the warrior’s face. “I will treat him as if he was my own son.”
Atiya’s head turned suddenly, her eyes meeting his and locking in. She stayed that way for a long moment, before breaking away. Her eyes turned back to the sand and she seemed to think about something for a while. “That is all a mother could ask for,” she said at long last. She gave her son a hug, then kissed him on the forehead before turning and walking away.
Hassan watched her go. “You will tend to my camels and fix my meals boy. You will tend to my tent and do whatever I require of you. In return, I will teach you the ways of the falchion and the scimitar. I will also teach you the language of the infidels. Obey me in all things and you will have no problems.” He opened the tent flap, and almost stepped inside. “One last thing. No one… NO ONE… touches my horse except me. Understood?” The boy nodded as his new master disappeared into the tent.
