About Amir Al-Fairuz
Born into a life of opulent wealth that many in Katapesh would have killed for, Amir Al-Fairuz was the only child of Qadir Al-Fairuz, a shrewd and notoriously ambitious merchant prince. From the outside, it looked as if Amir had everything he wanted. He boasted a decadent home, the best tutors coin could procure, and an exclusive coterie of slaves to fulfill his every whim, he seemed pampered and spoiled to the core by a father whom had earned his fortune justly. For Amir himself, however, the tale is much different, for he was privy to things that would cast his family in a much darker light.
The truth of the matter was that his father had not earned his fortune fairly, a fact that gnawed at Amir. While he was manipulative, strict, and practically a despot, Qadir was nothing but honest to his child, if only to groom him for the future. For generations, the family had been blessed with inexplicable magic capable of performing arcane talents on a whim rather than through study. "The blood of genies is ours to command," Qadir would tell his son with the utmost authority, "and through it we can prosper." And prosper they did, with Qadir secretly exploiting his magic on his clients, using his gifts to either coerce or convince them in order to line his pockets. In time, he expected Amir to follow in his footsteps, preparing him for a life his son hadn't even agreed to lead: one of lies and treachery against his own people for personal gain.
Like a rare bird in a gilded cage, Amir became a prisoner in his own home soon after he began to manifest his own magic. Where other boys his age might have spent their days playing in the streets or out in the scrub lands just beyond the city, Amir's were spent being forced to listen to lectures from masters of economics, learning languages, and studying the arcane, all in the pursuit of something that Amir had no real interest in becoming. The harder Qadir pushed, though, the more rebellious Amir became; he began questioning his father at every turn, and had grown tired of living his life sequestered away, yearning to see more of what the world had to offer than what his inflexible father permitted. And so it was that in his fit of adolescent revolution Amir took to regularly sneaking out in the dead of night, disappearing into the streets of Katapesh's Night Markets and taverns in search of adventure.
Though he never found what he sought, he found something almost as good: stories of far-off lands from those brave men and women whom had come so far from home to distant Katapesh. But no tales compared to those of the Pathfinders and their wily misadventures. Amir became enamored by this stories and through his eyes viewed the Pathfinder Society as everything he ever wanted: the freedom to explore the world and do something good with his life. When he finally mustered the courage and told his father this, the result was predictable: Qadir accused his delinquent child of having his mind polluted by guttersnipes and vagabonds, and Amir countered that his father was a tyrant in the guise of a merchant. Heated words were exchanged, and Amir -- now nearing the end of his teenage years -- finally found the willpower to cast off the yoke his father had set upon him, accepting his disinheritance with little more than a flippant huff. And so it was that Amir took what few possessions he could call his own, hocked them for a modest sum of coin, and set off for the Grand Lodge of Absalom to become a Pathfinder, make his own fortune, and -- as an added bonus -- put as much distance between himself, his father, and Katapesh that he could.
Eight years passed, and Amir made good on his endeavors. A full-fledged member of the Society, the young Pathfinder had spent nigh on a decade scouring the lands of Avistan for artifacts, exploring ancient keeps, and otherwise exercise his freedom in ways he'd once never thought possible, all the while striving towards helping folks along the way. For the first time in a long while, Amir had achieved a level of happiness. But for all his endeavors to leave his past behind him and get on with his life, it was during a reprieve after an excavation in Osirion that troubling news surrounding the recently liberated Kelmarane reached his ears. Rumors were spreading of gnolls moving through the Brazen Peaks, the tribes amassing under a singular flag -- that of the infamous entity known as the Carrion King!
Faced with the choice of turning his back on his homeland or investigating the goings-on to discover the truth first-hand, Amir has for the first time in almost ten years returned to Katapesh to uncover the truth to these rumors. Though he's loathe to return, Katapesh is still his home, and he had to know for certain what was going on; but should there be some grain of truth to the rumors, the young Pathfinder knows that he must do whatever he can to stem the tide, lest the Land of Trade and its people be engulfed in the ensuing conflict.
Plucky. Idealistic. Free-spirited. These are all apt descriptors of Amir, a young man whom is more likely to follow his heart than his head when it comes to most matters. Though once a rebellious rabble-rouser in his youth, Amir's time amongst the Society and abroad have since tempered him, molding the boy from a stubborn brat into a well-respected and trustworthy adventurer. At his core, Amir is a simple fellow who believes that what an individual does with their life is more important than what they've gained along the way; adamant that, at the end of the day, anyone is capable of doing the right thing, yet aptly choose not to.
If ever there was a Harrow card that best described him, the Fool would undoubtedly be it. Though he boasts a sharp mind, Amir is more apt to lay out a quip or crack a joke than let on that he's somewhat well-learned. Likewise, it's behind this guise of positivity and carefree attitude that the able Pathfinder hides many of his own insecurities. He might put on a brave face, but he's not immune to fear, and though he'd never openly admit it, being scared is a fact that comes up more times than he'd like given his career choice.
Though a Kellish man by birth, one would be hard pressed to find many similarities between Amir and the locals these days. So long has he been gone from the Land of Trade that he's all but forsaken many of their customs, going so far as to nearly drop his accent entirely in favor of a more western dialect. He no longer favors the gaudy, eye-catching attire he'd once been accustomed to, and has become far more practical in his attire. Really, he may as well be a foreigner pretending to be from Katapesh than a true son at this point, often feeling more out of place now than he ever had before. Yet, after witnessing life beyond his sandy home where coin is king, nothing bothers him more now about his homeland than the act of slavery. While still popular in many parts of Golarion, Amir knows what it must be like to be bound in servitude, and as such holds a strong opposition towards slavery; the mere thought of being clapped in irons and sold on the market ruffling his feathers something fierce.
With dark, feathery hair, soft grey eyes, defined cheekbones, and a dusky complexion, Amir might not be the toughest fellow in Katapesh, but at least he's fairly easy on the eyes! While of only modest height, the novitiate of the Society carries himself with a stature and confidence that belies in size, whilst a smile is never far from his lips. His stride is practiced and poised, rife with both purpose and the distinct gait that only those blessed with the vim and vigor of youth can attain. A motley assortment of scars and nicks from his previous escapades line his body, almost all but invisible against his lightly burnished skin.
When it comes to attire, Amir has long since given up the flashier garb that once befit his station as a scion of wealth and taste in Katapesh in lieu of more practical attire. Though his outfits frequently change given the hazardous predicaments he so often finds himself in, Amir's most current ensemble consists of a light and airy white tunic with a brown leather vest, an elaborately stitched poncho, cotton breeches replete with a lengthy red sash to hold them in place, and a pair of sturdy, well-worn boots. Though Amir is a fellow who always likes to come prepared, no item is of more significance to him than his wayfinder, the symbol of his station which he always carries in close proximity within a latched pouch at his waist.