» Tue Jun 12, 2012 6:41 pm
Name: Talib
Race: Redguard
Home: Alik'r Desert
Class: Desert Ranger
Alignment: Chaotic Good
History:
The yellow emptiness of the Alik’r desert stretched infinitely in all directions, and so scalding were its sands that the boy Talib liked to imagine he was running on the sun itself. He ran as fast as ever, pushing himself to his absolute limit. The arrow had cut but a small gash on the back of the fox’s neck, but he wasn’t worried. He just kept on running, fuelled by the thrill of the hunt and a feeling of complete freedom. Finally, the unfortunate animal slowed as the cobra’s venom began to take effect. He had a kill. Talib screamed jubilantly, for this was a turning point for all boys of his tribe. He knew he would be summoned to the Elders’ Tent, a tremendous honor he would never forget. Carrying the fox on his shoulders, he took the first proud step towards home. He was a hunter now.
Talib recalled that moment fondly as he sat once again in the great tent, in the center of a ring of men: elders, warriors, and other dignitaries. To his right sat his uncle and chief of the tribe, Azzan, a man wise beyond his years with muscles toned to perfection from years of combat. To his left was Thaik, an elder with a great, curly white beard. Before him stood an elderly woman, wearing a thick, sleeveless robe covered in bijous and feathers of many different shapes and colors. Her wrinkled, tattooed face was staring into nothingness, and her frail body convulsed rhythmically to an unheard beat. She was the great seer, and most respected member of the tribe after the chief himself.
“It is time.” instructed Thaik, drawing a short curved dagger from its wooden sheath.
Talib extended his right hand and steeled himself. He did not wince as the dagger cut across the palm of his hand. The seer approached and drank of his blood which ran freely from the wound. She then imbibed a murky liquid from a copper flask that hung from her leather belt. All fell silent in anticipation as the great seer suddenly stood still.
Talib felt uncomfortable with the curious stares of the men around him, and the dizzying mixture of their hot breaths, sweaty bodies, and the strong incense that pervaded the tent. The heat was almost unbearable. He tilted his head back to try and breathe fresher air and regarded curiously the tapestries that hung from above, one in particular which depicted a battle in which his tribe had served as militiamen alongside the Imperial Legion. His father had fought bravely in that battle. He wondered when he too might bask in the glory of honorable combat. Fending off desert raiders just wasn’t the same.
The great seer was in a deep trance now. She spoke in Yoku, the ancient tongue of the Redguards, which few present but the tribe’s elders understood.
"Ra nogo!" she exclaimed, pacing the center of the ring like a trapped beast, her face contorted with fear.
"A great danger." translated Thaik.
The old woman spread her wrinkled arms out like wings.
"Ra tobr'a!" she cried.
"A great evil."
She raised her arms to the heavens and screamed. “Zhang-gak-hi!"
The elders gasped and whimpered. Some covered their weathered faces with trembling hands, while others prayed.
"Destruction magic." translated Thaik.
Whispers circulated all around the great tent like bees. Ignoring or oblivious to the growing noise, the seer fixed her gaze on Talib for a long while before rolling her eyes back into her head.
"Dua togo tokt tobr'a." she commanded. "Dua togo sogat kuloto!"
The whispers quickly turned to an uproar. Some men argued, some cheered, and others wept. A few minor scuffles broke out. Some of the elders tried in vain to stop the commotion, shaking their heads in disappointment. Azzan lowered his head and sighed, concern clearly visible on his handsome face.
"What did the great seer say?" inquired Talib. "Uncle, what did she say?"
The great chief helped himself up and extended his hand to Talib. "Come." he said, solemnly.
The racket could still be heard outside as they entered Azzan's tent and sat on richly embroidered pillows.
“Tea?” offered the chief.
Talib declined with an outstretched hand.
“You must find this evil. You must resist it.” recalled Azzan whilst pouring some of the fragrant liquid into an ivory cup. “Those were the seer’s words.”
Talib could not hide his confusion.
“Me? I am to resist a mysterious evil I know nothing about? I don’t understand.” he complained.
Azzan took a modest sip of the fine tea and cleared his throat.
“A few nights ago, the great seer had a major vision.” he explained. “She gazed into the eyes of evil, great amber orbs inside of which a thousand fires raged, and saw reflected in them the terrible destruction it had wrought. She saw its great shadow hanging ominously over the land like a dark blanket, and all that it covered came to ruin. And then, Talib, she saw you.”
He took another sip of the strong tea before continuing.
“When the elders heard of this, they weren’t sure what to make of it, particularly the part that concerned you. You see, time is an ancient tapestry woven with fate and mended with patches of free will, our actions. A seer’s vision is but a glimpse of that tapestry, but where fate ends and free will begins is difficult to discern, so finely are they woven together. Are you destined to fight this great evil alone, or are you but a mere stitch in the coming tale? That had to be discerned, and is why we convened.”
“And the great seer foresaw my vanquishing of this evil?” inquired Talib.
“No, child. She saw that your fates are strongly intertwined, but it will be up to you to weave the end of this tale, as well as any who may decide to help you along the way. Your bow will be the needle, and your arrows the thread.”
Talib lowered his head in contemplation.
“But why me? What is so special about Talib?” he asked.
Azzan laughed.
“Have you not been paying attention? You are destined to face this great foe, so you will find your way before the time comes. Trust in yourself.”
Azzan got up and made his way to the far end of the tent. From an elaborately adorned chest he produced a large cloth package, which he placed at Talib’s feet. The young man gently unfolded the rich fabric, noting the exquisite cross-stitched patterns which depicted a large battle between Redguards and the Thalmor. Beneath the last fold was an unassuming, unstrung long bow.
“That belonged to your father.” explained Azzan. “It is yours now. Cherish it, for it has a rich history and will bring good fortune to whoever wields it.”
Talib gazed upon the weapon reverently. “I will guard it with my life.”, he promised.
Azzan smiled and placed a hand on the young man’s shoulder.
“Go now, child.” he commanded. “Rest well, for you rise with the sun tomorrow.”
Talib made for the flap in the tent before turning back.
“Will I ever see you again, uncle?” he asked.
Wise Azzan smiled wider.
Perks: Archery, Alchemy, Light Armor
Shouts: Fire Breath, Frost Breath, Marked for Death, Animal Allegiance, Unrelenting Force
Gear: Long Bow, Iron Arrows, Hide Armor
