This broad shouldered, dark skinned young Garundi man sports a stubbly beard and wields a serrated sabre which he carries with a rakish bravado. He wears a chain shirt over a flashy looking Nexian or Osiriani wizard garb, and keeps his hair long, giving him a somewhat exotic appearance. Zahur has a hungry look in his eyes, matched with a smug, lazy grin.
Backstory:
Zahur didn't start wanting to learn the arcane arts, but as soon as the boy was deemed to have any hint of an affinity for it, he was sent by his elders to the Arcanamirium. This was in part due to being able to trace his bloodline to the fantastic kingdom of Nex. Even though he was born to a pair of ordinary, yet somewhat wealthy wine merchants. In time he grew more and more distant with his studies. He ran off and made trouble with other angry young men of higher standing. He drank, he fought, he womanized, but he generally didn't take things too far, until one unfortunate day when he angered another one of the students at the Arcanamirium, through insulting a powerful and arrogant young mage at the academy. He was challenged to a secret duel. He brought one of the serrated blades which belonged to his father. The blades he secretly trained with, which hung over the mantelpiece. The blades haunted his dreams as a boy. When he came to the duel, the other wizard flung spell after spell at him, though Zahur persisted; however, when he found his own arcane prowess was outmatched, he drew his sword. His opponent had a look when he turned his gaze to the blade. As if he realized something about it. Arcane energy flowed through the sword when he gutted his opponent like a fish in front of all his compatriots. The experience shook him to his core. He left the academy. Nothing was the same. He swore to never fight needlessly again. Not knowing what to do with himself, he wandered the streets of Absalom until he had the idea to join the Pathfinders. There he would find answers and finally be able to gather and use arcane knowledge for a noble cause.
