Omar Ashran's page

none -doesn't own a spell book

Omars dark skin is weathered and creased from years of sail, salt and sun, lacking any hair on his face and head, his face seems set in a permanent frown as his eyes are set in a permanent squint against the sun. Standing at six feet in height Omar sports the lean, hard body of a sailor, strong and agile, wearing worn clothing over his lean frame. His once white shirt has adopted a brownish color and he has torn the sleeves off and torn them into ribbons to wrap around his hands and feet to protect them and for grip. Wearing a simple vest that might once have been red over the shirt and baggy pants that might once have been blue the only item of clothing not torn, ripped and patched in a red sash across his waist.

In 4689 Mehir Ashran crossed the border of Rahadoum from Thuvia with nothing to his name but his pregnant wife, Nargata, and tattoos marking him as a slave out of Osirion. Fleeing his masters and the inevitable fate of being separated from his wife and unborn child as he was unable to buy neither his nor her freedom, Mehir stole away in the night with the only thing he loved in the world. Braving the elemental ridden deserts of Osirion and slave takers in Thuvia he headed for the Kingdom of Man, a place said to be devoid of gods and divine leadership but filled with the values of mankind and the promise it holds, hoping they would see every life for as precious as he saw the coming life of his child, Rahadoum was his destination. Wishing to be as far away from the borders of Osirion and it's god-king he possibly could he made it as far as the western shores, to the outskirts of the city of Botosani, before Nargata finally could go no longer as the child was soon to this world.

Knocking on the first door he saw the pair was in luck, finding shelter and aid in their time of need. Accepted into the home of the family Paktesh, a family of six at the time, Mehir and Nargata found safety as their child came into the world. Omar was born that night on the 23rd of Neth, 4689, as a free man to free parents, a fact he was never allowed to forget as he grew into a man. Settling in with the family Ashan Mehir found his skill as a carpenter in great demand, utilizing the skills he was tought as a slave as a free man he worked hard to provide for his family, determined that his children would grow up to something better. Soon, with the help of the Paktesh, they had enough to raise their own home and as the years when by it grew in size as well as the family.

And there Omar grew up, a free man from the blood of slaves by the outskirts the port city of Botosani with the wind of the sea blowing in his face and the myriad of people coming and going from the port and the city markets, happy childhood living in freedom and relative security despite the many things that seemed to plague the city.

When Omar was 14 the family had been untouched by the plague that had ravaged the city and Omar, having been tought his letters by Limora Paktesh and having worked with his father for the last 4 years, was sent to attend official academic lectures held for the children of his area. Learning the basics of arithmetic and literature as well as the histories of Rahadoumi and the fundamentals of logical discussions, Omar displayed a keen intellect and an aptitude for learning. Encouraged by his tutor, to Mehir's and Nargata's great pride, Omar was sent to Azir to study. Spending the drought and rain seasons there learning deeper rhetoric, arithmetic and literature, he returned for the off seasons with top marks to help his mother at home and his father at work. By the time Omar was 18 the city had been struck twice again by plague, six time by pirates and rumors of cult activities were abound in the city and the Purity Legion was crawling over it. At this turbulent time Omar was accepted into the Occularium in Manket.

With tears of joy and sorrow Omar was sent to study at Rahadoum's most prestigious school of the arcane, a descendant of slaves, the son of a carpenter, an intelligent mind without a copper to his name. The studies were to be paid for by his father with the support of Botosani government and the help of the Pakteshs and for four years, so it was. Omar immersed himself in his studies and made quick progress, with the Manaket Gardens now all but dead and the desert ever encroaching on the city teachers were plenty and the opportunity to study was high, but with all the many teachers available Omar never thought to find a focus for his studies, rather he was determined to learn all he could about all subjects that were available too him, and so he spent four years gobbling up the knowledge he could get from mentor to mentor in the arcane and engineering, and, in the whirlwind that was his new life, his family slowly faded into the background.

In 4711, by Omar's 24th birthday, his world to a tilt sideways. In a letter from his mother, written by Mrs. Paktesh, Olmar received the new of his fathers death. Another plague, the 4th in ten years, had ridden over Botosani. Pirates kept raiding, dissidence was growing and food was growing scarce. Mehir had come home one day and not risen in the morning, dead from the plague. Devastated by the news Omar knew he must return home, he had just begun, in the past year, to earn enough to maintain himself in Manaket and he knew he had ways to go in his studies, but he knew that he would not be able to support his mother as well as himself by what he earned, and so, he decided, he must go home.

Returning to Botosani was a grim affair at best. The city was in poor shape though the plague was in decline and pirates had not been seen in a month, dirty and in disrepair. Coming home to his family he found they had scant to eat and were poorly fending for themselves, Omar's brother, 10 years his younger, had died two weeks prior and now his family only consisted of his mother, growing older and soon unable to work, and his sister, four years his younger, doing what she could but to little success. The Paktesh were faring no better with both Mr. and Mrs. Paktesh growing old, two children lost to the plague and the rest moved away to seek better fortunes.

And so, wracked by grief, Omar weighed his options. The city looked to be in it's death throes, poor, dirty and in disrepair, going into the city and offering his knowledge of engineering revealed only empty coffers and shacking heads. There would be no chance for him to utilize his learning here, too bad he had not picked up his fathers profession, coffins were in high demand. Going to the Pure Legion revealed much the same, supplies were short and morale was low, scowling suspicion met the, 'till then, well fed Omar. So what then? Travel to Azir and look for work? Thinking it through he knew that he would never earn enough to support his family, at best he could hire on as a tutor to some lower class nobility for meager pay, being a descendant of slaves and the son of a carpenter he had no friends in high places to assure him a position of prestige that would earn him enough, so what to do? Go there anyway and trust in luck? That was not the Way, he needed to make his own luck, to rely on himself and the potential within his own human form. He would need to make his way with the only option he knew was available to him now; The Merchant Fleet.