Maw"ud alWawi's page

About Maw"ud alWawi

Slightly above average in height, the dark skinned man is whippet thin. His meager musculature is all steel cables wrapped around bone, leaving no room for fat. His large ears give him a comical appearance and the almond shaped eyes only serve to accentuate this farcical facade. His black hair shows highlights of gold which suit the pale yellow orbs which regard you. Those eyes seem to follow you as you move, dragging your gaze back to him. He continues to stare, a fascinating look bordering on the hypnotic. Your arms feel leaden and you can feel your eyelids drooping, when suddenly it ends. He turns from you and you snap back to full alertness. As you look into the crowd, he is gone; an anomaly lost in the pressing sea of humanity which is the grand bazaar.

Maw"ud alWawi knows he remembers his mother. He has dreams of the painfully thin woman of exotic beauty looking down upon him and smiling. She has yellow eyes and large ears, too. He knows she is his mother. He just wishes he knew what happened to her.

Maw"ud can remember his past. He grew up in the slums of Katapesh. His earliest memories are of living in the ruins of a neighborhood outside of Dog Town. He doesn't remember anyone else living there. He would sneak into the Daystalls and steal food. He was always hungry. Never enough to eat. His upbringing was a day-to-day trial by fire. Food from stalls, rags for clothes, even drink was stolen from the jars of water bearers. Always on the lookout for gnolls. He doesn't know why they hate him. They always have. He could see the glint in their eye when they noticed him. How their attitudes changed to mean anger. Even the little ones would mercilessly torment him. He spent half of his waking life running from one pack of gnolls or another. He grew to be a fast runner; a very fast runner. He never forgot the feel of their claws or fangs when they caught him.

As he grew older, he didn't have to run. He learned how to avoid them, how to deal with them and how to hunt them when they had wronged him or some other defenseless person. Gnolls became his personal pastime. Sneaking up on them and dropping a basket of scorpions he had caught in the ruins he called home onto them was always fun. It was during just such a dusty hot afternoon that he first felt eyes watching him. He didn't think, he immediately ran. He ran through several parts of the city before he couldn't feel those eyes on him. He then made his way home.

Coming to rest in his personal set of ruins, he nearly jumped out of his skin as he heard a high pitched yet still gravelly voice. "Hello." Looking about with wide wild eyes, he spied a darker shadow within the shade of the edifice.
"You run well, little dog." Came the raspy voice.
"Well enough to evade the hyenas." He replied.
"I am no hyena, whelp." The stranger said as he stepped out into the light.

He was tall and thin with dark skin. His eyes were a deep amber color. He had the hilt of a massive sword sticking out over a shoulder and several daggers hanging from his person. He looked down at Maw"ud with a sneer. "What? No more witty words?"

Maw"ud looked about for a way out but, the stranger had chosen his hiding place well. He stood next to the door opening and the other openings Maw"ud had covered up with rubble for protection from the outside. He warily eyed the mysterious stranger, waiting for an opportunity.

"Very good, boy. Patience and wisdom in the face of overwhelming adversity. You may yet survive." Looking him in the eye, the stranger announced, "I have noticed you for some time now. You are lucky. I have use for you. You will be my eyes over the "hyenas" and report what you see to me whenever I allow you to find me."

"What is in it for me, old man?" Maw"ud asked.

Your life should be enough but, I am a generous master. Take this!" As a flash of metal flew past his face and into the beam behind his head. Maw"ud glanced back to see a knife jutting out from the wood and looking back realized that the man was gone. He had not even heard him leave.

Maw"ud spent the next several years spying on the gnolls of Dog Town for the man. In return, he learned how to use his dagger and later how to read and write as the merchants do. The man even taught him how to wield other weapons including, the falchion, the desert's cleaver.

Upon his fifteenth year, Maw"ud was taken by the man, whose name he still did not know, into the heart of the city into the oldest district and was taken inside the walls to the halls of the Zephyr Guard. There he was presented for the masters. They took the recommendation of their loyal servant and trained him to become one of them.

After a year of training, Maw"ud was placed with a company whose duty it was to protect pactmasters caravans through the desert by patrolling the wastes between cities. He served well and his training in sneaking and tracking enemies well served the company. For a year and a half, Maw"ud served with distinction. That was until they were deep in the desert, following a nearly non-existant trail after a brass band of outlaws who had been plaguing the trade routes for several months. Maw"ud had successfully followed them back to their hideout. The company commander called for the attack and they surged forward. There was no one to be found at the campsite. Maw"ud had been tricked. The bandits rose up, their positions encircling the low spot the Zephyr Guards had charged. They rained down missile fire, first with flaming arrows to light oil soaked ground, then aiming at th guards not already on fire. Maw"ud took three arrows; leg, arm and shoulder. He feebly crawled into some scrub where he collapsed.

Awakening hours later, he found that all of his fellows had been stripped and murdered. He was alone and near death. Tending to his own wounds as best he could, he crawled away from the carnage and spent the night listening to the night animals at their feast. He limped, crawled and dragged himself along for days until he was found by a caravan. Taken back to Katapesh, he was brought back to health. Summoned by the commanders of the guard, he explained himself, his actions and the outcome of the search. He was found culpable for being fooled by mere bandits and cast out of the Zypher Guard.

Nothing left and nowhere to go, Maw"ud went back to the ruins of his childhood. He got by as a mercenary and a thug. Deep in the dregs of an alcoholic stupor, he found himself stumbling into a mugging. Drawing his dagger, his falchion long sold for drinking money, he stabbed the firt body that came within reach. His years of training and experience kicking in, he downed two more before he tripped and hit his head on a stone doorframe.

When he came to, he was in a bed. There was a man in fine clothing sitting nearby. He explained that Maw"ud had saved his life from gnolls trying to mug him. He said that he was impressed at his skill, even while blind drunk, and that he had use for him. Maw"ud gave an ugly chuckle, remembering that phrase from so many years ago. "Of course, you have, milord. How may I serve you?"