Iram Kalim *DEAD*

A powerful man of the desert with a stoney demeanor

Description:

Suli Fighter
Age: 19
Height: 5’11"
Weight: 225
Hair: Brown
Complexion: Tan
Eyes: Brown/Grey

Str 16
Dex 12
Con 14
Int 14
Wis 10
Cha 9

AC: 17 (Dex 1, Shield 2, Armor 4)
HP: 20

Fort: 6
Ref: 1
Will: 2

Weapons: Scimitar & Shield, Chakram

Bio:

Iram does not know how old he is. He only guesses. Iram does not know where he came from. He only imagines. Iram does not know what he is. The answer to that is a question to all.

All Iram knows is what he has always known. From as far back as he can remember he has been raised by a strange organization. He has been raised for one solitary purpose: to protect. He has been tasked as a bodyguard in this organization and he has been on that path since he can remember. Every day consisted of light meals and constant exercise to stay in peak physical condition. His social interaction was kept to a minimum. He had no need to deal with other people, only to protect his charge. But the most disturbing part of it all was the beatings. Seen as a necessity, to keep him acclimated to and unafraid of a pain, Iram was beat daily. In all manner of ways. He was whipped, kicked, stabbed, sliced and burnt. Iram has known pain in his few short years that most men can only imagine. As horrible as his past was, it accomplished its goal. With out the slightest hesitation Iram will jump in the way of danger to protect another. It is all he knows.

Mostly the beatings were a regular part of Iram’s routine. Other times, the were punishment. For Iram had a thirst for knowledge beyond his tasks. He was fascinated not only by the people he sometimes encountered and the few texts he could get his hands on, but also by the magnificent feats his superiors could preform; conjuring fire from nothing or to float weighty objects without touch. Learning of these magics, or any learning for that matter, was forbidden. That restriction was often violated.

But a few short weeks ago this life, the only life Iram has known, was ended. For reasons beyond Iram’s knowledge the sect he followed disband and dissipated. Iram was not a member of the group, only a tool to further its goals. With no further goals, a tool was worthless. A tool was discarded. Iram was left in the desert to survive on his own.

With a past life shattered and no where to turn, Iram wandered. It was soon that he realized no one would be providing him with food. Little to no knowledge of the world outside his group gave Iram few skills to market to the economy of the world. Moving from town to town a preforming odd jobs for a warm barn to sleep in a bit of food to keep him going, he finally heard of a well paying job guarding a caravan. Seeing the opportunity to finally make some gold of his own and to see the world that was once kept from him, Iram set out to meet this caravan owner and to forge his place in the world.

Iram Kalim *DEAD*

For Honor and Glory drennier