Ashad al'Ahir's page

Ashad is a humble man. From brutal beginnings to holy conventions, he has kept his mother's first teaching to heart. "Live your life with kindness and honesty". Ashad always carries a warm smile upon his face, and an uplifting parable in his heart. He will strike up a conversation with anyone, from the poorest vagabond to the richest merchant prince. His kindness is truly worn upon his sleeve. However, when he is pressed into battle or confronted with those possessed of wicked hearts, Ashad is a fearsome opponent. He does, however, have a soft spot for women, and is reluctant to attack such opponents headon.

Ashad is a rugged young man, standing roughly five foot ten. Having inherited his father's olive skin tone and his mother's dusty brown hair, the paladin cuts a rather handsome image. Wearing that dusty hair down to the nap of his neck, Ashad keeps his facial hair cut into a neat thin trimming that lines his jawline and ends in a formal goatee'. Covered in light tan and darker brown studded leathers, draped across a simple breast plate, Ashad's tell-tale blue turban clearly marks him as a native.

Born into slavery the man that would one day become Ashad al'Ahir had a bitter beginning. The son of a rich merchant and his slave mistress, Ashad would never know the luxuries his father's position could have afforded him. Forsaken by the merchant to avoid scandel, Ashad was left to be raised by his mother and the shackles of slavery.

For years the boy would waste away as a stableboy. Hidden from view by his suspicious master, the boy's only solace was found in his mother. A practioner of the Saerene faith, Ashad's mother instilled in him a strong sense of honesty and compassion. She used her faith to give her young son hope. Despite his harsh and bitter upbringing, Ashad would take these lessons to his grave.

A decade of the slave whip saw to it that the young boy would grow into a strong and resilient young man. However with age came a change of apperance. Now, more than ever, Ashad began to resemble his father. The rich merchant, having married into royality, felt the pressures of what could happen if his infedilty was discovered. Driven by fear and greed, the merchant finally had his old mistress forever silenced. But despite all this, he couldn't bring himself to kill his own flesh and blood. So instead, he sold him to the next caravan leaving Katapesh. Ashad left the only home he'd ever known, not evening learning of his mother's death.

Two weeks into their desert voyage, Ashad's life would change once more- with finality. On a clear and starry evening, not far from their destination, the slave caravan made camp. As most evenings go things seemed quiet enough, so shortly after sunset, Ashad found himself drifting into slumber from within his cage. When he awoke to the sounds of screaming and battle, he knew in his heart his old life was over. Gnolls from the Pale Mountain had decended upon the caravan, and was cleaving a bloody path through it's very heart. In the ensuing chaos, Ashad and numerous other slaves were released by their masters in hopes that they would provide enough of a distraction for the gnolls that they could make their escape. To his knowledge, Ashad was the only one to survive the night and reach open desert.

For days he would wander, with nothing save the scarps of clothes on his back. Nearing his seventh day, Ashad's body had enough. Collapsing on the top of the highest dune in sight, Ashad simply stared up at the sun, muttering an old prayer his mother had taught him over and over. Shortly become blissful unconsciousness overtook him, he noticed a lone figure traversing the dunes heading straight for him. When next he awoke, the cool kiss of the night's breeze greeted him pleasently. Wrapped in a blanket and laying next to a fire, Ashad could smell cooking meat. Struggling to his knees, a firm hand from behind guided him back into onto his side. "Take ease now" the older voice croaked, "You'll need to rest if you are to survive the dunes". Glancing back, Ashad was greeted by the wrinkled smile of an older man covered in heavy armor and thick cloth. The symbol of Sarenrae hung from underneath his scarf, and when Ashad's eyes landed on the object, the old man smiled. "So tell me, where did you learn that prayer you were muttering?"

As if the designs of fate had laid themselves bare in front of him, Ashad's life finally seemed to be coming full circle. His savior was a man named Herret al'Ahir. A holy warrior decided to the sun goddess Sarenrae, the very god Ashad's mother had taught him so much about in his youth. For long hours into the night they spoke of each other's shared faith. Pleased with his tale, Herret offered to take the young man with him, back to the temple he lived in. Herret had been on a pligramige of faith, and was returning to his cloister with what he deemed worthy results. Having nothing save the scars of slavery left to him, Ashad heartly agreed. Within the months to come, he would learn everything he possibly could about the goddess who's stories his mother had reered him on. At Herret's urging, he took up her mantle of faith, and began training in ernst.

Ashad and Herret became steedfast companions. So much so, that Ashad chose to follow in Herret's own footsteps along the path of the paladin. Having Herret's sponsership, Ashad found himself flourshing in his studies. It was as if everything in his life had lead him to this point. Never had he felt so complete. By his twentith year, the church had deemed his tutelage complete. However, before Herret allow the church to bestow his holy knighthood, he had one last task in mind for Ashad. "For we, the enlightened few, a rebirth of sorts is nessacery to prove ourselves to our lady" Herret warned him. "As the sun births light into the world every day, so to must the faithful experience a rebirth into her light. This is a tradition I have found with the teachings of 'The Birth of Light and Truth'. You must now find your own meaning from this."

To Ashad's surprise, Herret had returned him to his former home of Katapesh. "Here is where your story began, and it will be here that your true heart will shine, or falter" Herret warned him. "A man you may remember, has been found guilty of a devious crime. He may likely use his considerable wealth to escape proper punishment, but for now he resides within a dungeon cell. I know his jailer well, and have expended one of my owed favors to grant you an audience with this man. Ask him of his crime, and let your heart guide you from there." With that, Herret lead him to the susposed jail, where a collection of armored indivduals hurried them into the bowels of the building. Quickly, Ashad found himself thrust into a cell with a man stitched into his very memory. The rich merchant, who had once owned he and his mother, sat dispondantly in a corner of the cell. When their eyes met, Ashad knew what his test would be.

"Tell me prisoner, what is your crime?" Ashad managed with as steady a voice as possible. "A fools crime, one I shall not be convicted of!" the merchant spat. Again he steeled his feelings "What is your crime" Ashad demanded, causing the merchant to shake with fear. "If you must know, I have been accused of killing a slave girl I once owned, years ago! One of my own servants, having been slighted, has leveled his alliegations against me! The tales of a drunkard!" the merchant chimed with an almost pleading tone. The pangs in Ashad's heart had already made him aware of the tale to be spun before him. Herret had known his past as intimately as Ashad could have told it. With almost stone cold certainty, Ashad knew that his mother's murderer sat before him. With a clarity he had never experienced before, he removed the scarf that had concealed his face and eased his scimitar from it's scabbard. The merchant's expression of utter horror was answer enough for Ashad.

Herret watched on with muted interest as Ashad exited the cell. Wordlessly he strode past his mentor, a look of peaceful calm etched upon his face. Peering into the cell, the old merchant sat quivering in his corner, babbling his confession in hushed whispers for anyone to hear. When he exited the jail, Ashad had already mounted his steed, and waited motionless for his teacher. "I see you spared him, Ashad. But I must inquire as to why?" Herret asked. To his surprise, Ashad simply turned his steed towards the gates they'd used to enter Katapesh and replied "Let the healing light of the sun burn out his darkness within me. So that I may let my inner light be a guide for others, and a searing flame against unrepentant evil". With that, Ashad spurred his mount onward, leaving behind the last tethers of his life as a slave.

Two years after that fateful night, on a peaceful summer eve, Herret al'Ahir passed away. In his will, he had call Ashad his son, and left all of his worldly possessions to him. After the burial ceremony, Ashad was approached by members of the church with Herret's final request of him. He had recently been charged with a task that would take him away from the cloister for some time. It was a task considered to be of great import to the clergy, and on his deathbed he begged his brethern to allow Ashad to complete the journey in his stead. Without so much as a second thought, Ashad nodded and spoke, "How could a son refuse his father? Send word of my acceptance. Tell them, Ashad al'Ahir is coming."