About Khalil NoyonKhalil Noyon Character Sheet: :
Khalil Noyon
CN Human Male (Keleshite) Rogue 2 / Cleric 1 Init: +5; Perception: +8 (+9 vs. Traps) ---------------
Copper: -
Level 0
Level 1
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Sneak Attack: 1d6 additional damage against opponents with no DEX modifier
Experience: 5000
Khalil Noyon Appearance: :
Khalil Noyon is short for a Keleshite at 5'6” and only 150 pounds. His dark brown hair is shoulder length, and tied back away from his green eyes. His face is the dark tan of his race a partly covered by a well kept mustache and goatee. His clothing is travel worn but also clean, consisting of a loose fitting tunic and trousers. His cloak is a fine indigo blue velvet with crimson scrollwork along the outer edges. He typically wears soft black leather gloves and boots, however, when not wearing gloves the back of his left hand is marked with a small tattoo of a wasp. When not wearing a tunic his back shows many scars from the numerous whipping he received while in prison.
Khalil Noyon Background: :
Khalil Noyon a Keleshite from the far desert land of Osirion grew up among the temples and back alleys of the port city of Totra. His father served the port master as an accounting clerk while his mother was washer, seamstress, and general caretaker of Khalil and his seven brothers and sisters. Born with a free spirit, natural gift for curiosity and a healthy disregard for authority Khalil often found himself on the wrong end of the disciplinary stick. While growing up he often witnessed his father's complaints about his work and the lack of opportunities, corruption, or some other scandal occurring in the vast city government. Yet, when he asked why not leave and seek out something new his father would simply clap a hand aside his head and mutter something about duty, responsibility, and the law. None of which Khalil much understood or believed in.
When not under the watchful eye of his parents, which was actually quite often, Khalil wandered the streets and especially the docks. This land of a thousand tales of wonder and distant lands told by the sailors, merchants, and minstrels became his second home. He would spend many of his days listening, and learning. It was during the summer of his fifteenth year when he first met Osman the Bold, a minstrel and professional thief. Osman took the young Khalil under his wing and began teaching him the basic arts of thieving and trickery. Khalil took to it like a fish to water. His natural boyish charm and looks, along with a talent for locks and mechanical things meant he could get in and out of nearly any building in the city. The two worked well together for nearly three years until one day Osman was no longer waiting for him outside of the Sailing Harpy Inn as he usually was. It wasn't long before he heard the watch had been on the hunt for the minstrel and he had taken flight on the first ship leaving port that morning. Not dissuaded by this turn of events, Khalil focused on improving his skills and developing schemes of his own. It was during this period when he first met Marza, daughter of the regional governor. She was beautiful, charming, manipulative, and completely beyond Khalil's status. Khalil found himself deeply smitten by the girl's beauty and like any young man, he sought to win her favor. She used Khalil's infatuation to get him to spy and steal for her father's enemies. Always holding out hope that Marza would eventually return his feelings, all of his illegal activity finally caught up to him. The city guard found him sneaking into the study of a wealthy merchants home held him for trial. With his arrest everything changed. His family disowned him, Marza denounced any knowledge of his existence, and her father signed his writ of execution. His feeling of betrayal and grief were overwhelming as he waited in the filthy Totra prison, his execution day looming. Never being a very religious person, the now eighteen year old Khalil, did what many do in his situation, he turned to the divine for assistance. Osman had always worn a symbol of Calistria underneath his tunic and had often spoken of the patron goddess of thieves and luck. Figuring it would do little harm and perhaps make the time pass quicker, Khalil spent the night before his execution praying, never expecting any actual response. It was in the early morning hours as the moon was slowly sinking below the horizon that the goddess heard the young man's prayer and took notice. It was simple to make the guard slip and fall against the bars of Khalil's cell, the keys easily within reach. A mere snap of her fingers to cause the other guards to be soundly asleep at the beginning of what would be a large scale prison break. As the keys rattled across the filthy stone of the cell, Khalil couldn't believe his fortune. Rising from his knees, he grabbed the small metal pieces of freedom and unlocked the cell. Taking the fallen guards sword and uniform, he made a quick disguise and made good his escape, but not before opening all of the other cells and releasing chaos into the streets of unsuspecting Totra. During his flight from the prison he was running down an alley when the street collapsed beneath his feet dropping him into the sewers below. Upon regaining consciousness he realized he couldn't get back to the street level from where he fell and didn't wish to call for help so he slowly made his way in the dark. Feeling his way carefully step by step and facing down a growing panic that he would never find his way back to the surface, Khalil passed through the first test of his new patron goddess. After nearly three days of wandering in the dark, beneath the city, the young thief finally came to a small, dimly lit shrine. Predictably the shrine was to Calistria, and as he again slipped into unconsciousness Khalil dreamed of a beautiful woman blessing him and telling him of a journey he must make in return for her patronage and help. He woke finding the back of his hand marked with a tattoo in the shape of a wasp and more amazingly in a bed with the smell of tea steeping next to a tattered copy of The Book of Joy on a table at his side. Struggling to stand he tried to shake off the dreams of the night before. While sipping the tea he noticed a note written in an elegant hand also sat on the table next to a small pouch. The pouch contained an amount of gold, silver and a small ivory wasp hanging from a leather thong. Reading the note sent chill down his spine. It stated that he was on his way to the land of lost Thassilon. There in Varisian port of Magnimar he would set foot on a new path and begin to repay his debt to his new goddess. Hands trembling as he held the note, Khalil suddenly realized it all hadn't been a dream or coincidence. A goddess had intervened on his behalf, and now he was indebted to a deity. A fickle and tricky one at that. Not an ideal situation. He could feel the new ties within his mind, new powers and benefits, yet at what price to his own freedom and independence? It was only then that he felt the floor rocking slowly beneath his feet and heard the sounds of waves washing past the ship as it sailed north. Running up onto the deck he looked out upon a totally different landscape. Gray skies hung over a green, swampy looking wetland that stretched as far as the eye could see. The ship was just swinging into port. A large hand slaps his back nearly knocking him to his knees. Still stunned by his discovery, he turns around to see a big sailor. Hair cut short and a gap-toothed grin. "Finally up from your long nap eh lad? Just in time. The captain was going to throw you off awake or not." The man's grin grows even wider as his hand makes the quick sign of the wasp. "Welcome to Magnimar. Try not to get eaten by bog lizards." He walks off laughing while Khalil simply stares at the rapidly approaching city of Magnimar. Varisia, he thought wildly to himself. By the bloody abyss, how long had he slept?! Pushing down his initial panic, he started to smile as he went back to gather his equipment. So this is the way his new patron was going to play it, he thought. Not an ideal situation at all, but at least he didn't have to worry about Marza, her father, or the executioners axe. He had a fresh start. New land, new people, new prospects, new goddess. What could possibly go wrong?
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