Zahar was born into a typical nomadic Varisian family. His mother spent most of her time
proccupied with gambling, stealing, and other more lascivious acts. The boy was mostly raised
among the performance troupe his mother took to traveling with. Zahar's father was probably a
traveler or a patron; no one really knows for sure. The performers (who could never settle on a
single stage name) were an ecclectic group, so he was often taught conflicting morals and values,
and no particularly useful real-world skills -- though he did learn a lot about people and what
makes them tick. The majority of Zahar's young adult life was spent wandering outside of whatever
roadside camp his "family" had set up. He was rarely supervised, and often played in woodland
areas. He particularly enjoyed drawing, and drew many pictures of the plants and animals he had
seen on his travels. Whenever the troupe stopped in a large city, he would try to locate books
about the flora and fauna of the region so that he could compare his pictures to the descriptions
and illustrations in the books.
It was in the dawn of his adolescence that he encountered a creature in the forest that he had
never seen before. It was a woman, surely, but not of any kind he had ever heard of. She was
delicate and beautiful, with pure white skin, flowing white hair, and piercing green eyes. The
Tian woman laughed when their gazes met, and disappeared into the woods. Fore the next few days,
Zahar traveled to the place where he had seen her. She was never there. He spent the end of each
day perfecting a sketch of the mysterious white-haired woman, whom he'd called "White Lily" in
his sketch. On the sixth day of exploring the forest, he startled a mother bear with her cubs,
and barely escaped into a clearing full of thick grass as tall as any man. It was while he ran
through this clearing that he dropped his sketchbook. The next day, he returned to find the book,
but by evening he still had not located it -- the grass was so thick that searching was utterly
hopeless.
The next morning, he awoke in the tall grass. He hadn't even realized how exhausted he was the
night before. As his eyes opened and he stared skyward through the canopy of grass blades, he
felt a strange weight upon his chest. Looking down, he was surprised to see his sketchbook
resting there. It was dirty and damp, but otherwise undamaged. Leaves and other vegetation were
jammed between the pages.. and as he opened the book to clean it out, he wondered if perhaps he
had found it the night before and was too delirious from exhaustion to remember. He turned to the
page where he had sketched the mysterious woman, and sitting upon it was a pressed white water
lily. A black, smudgy writing (which he guessed must have been done with charcoal) had been
scrawled onto the page. It was in a script he couldn't understand, but just below it was written:
"Kasuri"
Zahar's heart nearly beat out of his chest, and he ran back to camp with the book clutched so
tightly that no mother bear would have been able to tear it away. He arrived at the camp just in
time to see that the troupe was packing up to leave. His once soaring heart sank in his chest. He
would never see her again, and he knew it.
For several months, the troupe traveled along the Varisian coastline, and Zahar could hardly
stand it. There were no forests or places of mystery; just sand and open plains. When the caravan
finally reached western Varisia, the opportunity to explore new woodlands could not have come
sooner. For three days, Zahar spent all of his time sketching and exploring. Each forest seemed
to have its own personality, and there was nothing more thrilling than discovering what made this
place unique. At the end of the third day, his exploration was interrupted by the distinct sound
of a bird's call -- one he had never heard before. Upon his eager investigation, he didn't find
the source of the exotic vocalization, but rather, he found a folded piece of parchment sitting
atop a lone tree stump. A small, smoothly polished stone had been rested atop it. Curious, he
lifted the stone and unfolded the paper. He was shocked to discover a sketch of himself had been
drawn upon it in charcoal, the likeness of which was uncanny. Written next to the sketch were
some of the foreign symbols similar to the ones Kasuri had written on his White Lily sketch. Just
beneath them was written:
"Purple Lotus"
Hands trembling and heart racing, he retrieved his writing implement and shakily wrote "Zahar"
before replacing the stone atop the parchment. He considered waiting; surely she would come back.
He stood there for what seemed like an eternity hoping to catch another glimpse of her. She
didn't show. He resolved to leave the forest for the day, knowing that he had four days before
they would be moving on.
The next day, he entered the woods with a brimming confidence and a yearning heart. He returned
to the stump to find that the parchment was gone, but that the polished stone remained along with
a discarded arrow which seemed to have been fletched from the feathers of a large bird, the likes
of which he'd never encountered. He took the arrow and turned to leave, but noticed something out
of the corner of his eye -- there was another arrow, but this one was planted head-first into the
soil. As he moved to retrieve it, he noticed that there was a path beyond the arrow that he would
not have seen had it not been practically pointed out to him. Beyond, there lied another arrow,
and another beyond that.
The arrows gradually led him deep into the thickest parts of the forest, and each one became more
and more difficult to find. Some of them were in the trees, others were barely visible in the
bushes. Hours later, he finally reached the end of the trail. Two arrows had been plunged into
the earth at the edge of a densely wooded cliff. He sighed and sat down, legs hanging over the
edge. She wasn't here. He stared at the flowing river some sixty feet below and wondered if she
was toying with him. A few minutes later, he stood and turned to leave..
She was standing there. Right in front of him. The sight of her face stole the breath from his
lungs.
How long had she been standing there? What did she want from him? Was she even real? His violet
eyes locked upon hers and he could not speak to gain the answers. The one thing he knew was that
he would never let her get away from him again.
When words finally came to him, the two of them spoke for hours.
And thus began the first of many meetings. At first, Kasuri followed the caravan as she had done
for months, but Zahar always knew she was there by the signs she left him. They met many times
and spoke of many things, and she taught him secrets of the forest that he would have never
understood on his own. She always said that she saw something unique in him, but she never fully
explained what she meant. The two of them eventually became lovers, and it was then that Zahar
decided to leave the caravan and travel the world wherever Kasuri would go -- and travel they
did.
Eventually, Kasuri introduced Zahar to the small community of rangers and druids whom she had
spent a number of years with. They did not accept him at first, and there were many arguments
about his presence among them. Over time, the elder druid grew to tolerate the young man's
presence, especially after he had seen consistent evidence of Zahar's reverence for nature. With
that reverence came the potential to become not only a tolerated member of the community, but a
true member of the druidic circle. Kasuri encouraged and assisted him every step of the way as
the elder taught him the wisdom and temperance required for such a great responsibility. He was
an apt pupil and came to love the essence and ideal of nature more deeply than he thought
possible, but there was no love greater than his love for Kasuri.
It was a year later that he would finally be accepted into the circle. Kasuri had missed the
initiation rites due to a pressing matter in another part of the forest. There was an unstable
agreement between the druids and the nearby village of Northfall. For years, the village had
taken only what was necessary for them to survive, but lately the villagers were harvesting the
forest in an attempt to create more work and expand their borders -- something that they had
always agreed not to do. The new leader of Northfall was a brash, arrogant man who didn't have
the respect for the druidic circle that his predecessor had. He ordered the villagers to harvest
the outskirts of the forest, he held hunting tournaments for sport, and callously ignored the
protests from the denizens of the wood.
The night of the initiation, Zahar felt uneasy. He couldn't explain why. He should have been
happy to finally be counted as one of their number. The next day, everyone seemed to be avoiding
him. His intuition told him something was wrong. He announced his intent to approach the village
and check on Kasuri. The druids warned him not to go, that he would not find her there. When
pressed, they did not explain how they knew this. He was to bond with an animal today during the
final rites of initiation, but he insisted upon traveling to the village instead. The druids
vehemently protested, but could not stop him.
When Zahar arrived in Northfall, the wind was still and the village was silent. There wasn't a
soul on the street. As the druid walked the dirt path through the buildings, he began to hear
what sounded like the din of a crowd. Turning a corner, he came upon the source: An execution was
taking place on the far end of town. The gallows had been set up, and a crowd had gathered
around. They were screaming for vengeance; justice. What for? What crime had been committed. He
searched the crowd for Kasuri, but didn't see her among them. She would have certainly stood out.
The body of a local man was laid upon the floor of the gallows for all to see. Zahar made his way
through the crowd to get a better look. About halfway to the front of the throng of villagers, he
recognized the man. It was a hunter he and Kasuri had caught poaching several times. He had been
warned many times not to hunt in the forest again until the following season. The hooded
executioner turned the man's body over with a foot, and that is when Zahar saw something he'll
never forget -- an arrow had pierced the man's chest, and it had been fletched in the feathers of
Kasuri's avian companion. There was no doubt about it. The villagers cried out in anger as a
woman with a dirty sack covering her head was escorted onto the gallows, her hands bound. As she
was paraded in front of him, Zahar knew before the sack was pulled off that it was Kasuri. He
stomped, clawed, and pushed his way to the front of the crowd, screaming in protest. Kasuri's
tear-filled eyes looked upon her lover's face as if to say goodbye, and Zahar's vision went dark.
He never saw the burly man who hit him from behind, nor did he see what happened next at the
gallows.
When he awoke with a throbbing pain in the back of his skull, the sun was beginning to set. He
had been trampled by the crowd and left in the street, which was now empty. The soft glow of
lanterns filled the rest of the town, but this end was lit only by the amber light of dusk. As
his eyes drifted upwards, and all he could see was the silhouette of his lover against the
backdrop of the setting sun. They had left her body hanging on the gallows. It almost looked like
she was standing there.. waiting for him to catch up like she always had. Tears streamed down his
cheeks and he opened his mouth to cry out, but his voice was stolen by grief. Silently, he stood
and climbed the stairs of the gallows. He cradled her limp form in his arms and simply held her.
Retrieving a knife from his belongings, he cut her down and carefully removed the noose from her
around her neck. The walk through town was slow and unbearable; his body was beaten and broken
from the mob who had nearly torn him apart. The streets were abandoned as he carried his slain
lover, and there was no remorse on the faces in the windows who watched his passing.
He brought Kasuri to the circle and pleaded with the elder to restore life to her body, but the
elder refused on the grounds that the balance would be broken. The sacrifice both sides had
endured would ensure a peace, unstable as it may be, and a mutual understanding of how the
differences between them would end if they did not work together. The message came at a great
cost, but none paid more dearly than Zahar. With great pain in his heart and his body, he slept.
In the morning, he would bond with an animal and complete his passage into the druidic circle.
When Zahar awoke, the elder was standing over his bedside. He asked that Zahar follow him, but
not to the place they had originally chosen conduct the binding ceremony, nor would the nine
other druids be accompanying them as was planned. The elder led him to a clearing that Zahar did
not recognize, and he knew this forest well.
"What is this place?", he asked as he stopped in front of a runic circle which had been
carved on a huge circular stone dias in the center of the small clearing. The elder did not
answer, and instead began to prepare the binding ceremony. Zahar assisted with the ritual as he
had been trained to do, but some of the steps had clearly been changed. The elder was using
different materials and the words he chanted were not as rehearsed. Zahar was then instructed to
kneel in the center of the dais and await the arrival of the creature to whom he would be bonded.
As the elder turned to leave, he gave Zahar one final instruction:
"When the ritual is complete, you must not return."
Zahar sat in silence for hours meditating on the events of the past two days. Consumed by loss,
he wept until his tears filled the runed carvings in the stone dias. The forest was eerily quiet,
as though the trees themselves mourned for him. When at last the sun had begun to set, there was
a gentle rustling in the brush directly ahead of him.
His eyes strained in the dim light as a form emerged and slowly approached. As the beast closed
the distance between them, he immediately felt the link between them and knew that the ritual had
been successful. As the creature came closer, however, he noticed something strange. The beast
was a slender, graceful panther -- but that wasn't what struck him. It was as white as snow, and
it's eyes.. it's eyes were the most piercing emerald green he had ever seen. Just like...
"Just like hers..."
He knew what this was, and why he couldn't return now. He had no more tears left to cry, and as
he struggled to stand, his companion's body was there to support him.
"Kasuri...", he whispered, a single tear rolling down his cheek.
Setting off for lands unknown, the two of them never left each other's side. Zahar would not rest
until he discovered a means by which to restore her. He would walk to the ends of Golarion to
find it, and travel to its deepest depths. In his travels, he heard of a place of ancient
secrets, untold power, and unfathomable peril.
Rappan Athuk.
Could there be something there that could return his beloved White Lotus? An ancient artifact,
some forbidden rite? He would face any danger to know the answer.
