Khel-Harath
Khel-Harath
Name: Khel-Harath (after her late brother, Mal-Harath)
Physical Description
General Physical Condition
Khel is 5'9" tall, slight, and willowy (though not for lack of trying to put on some padding, because she eats as much as she can get her hands on). Does not appear well-muscled, but no one who has had to tangle with her would call her weak. Tall, thin, youthful figure, almost entirely lacking any kind of "womanly curve" (according to a drunk man in a bar who earned a nasty scar across his forehead, as well as one eye, for the comment).
Body Features
Burn scars cover her left shoulder and most of her back, a puckered, stretched pink and white mass on otherwise perfect skin (if a little bit sun-burned now and then). She is otherwise almost completely unblemished in any manner.
Facial Features
- jade-green eyes, almond-shaped.
- dark eyebrows, eyelashes, and hair.
- light, freckled skin (especially with a bit of sun).
- small, straight nose.
- softly angled cheekbones, which sometimes seem to catch the light from her eyes.
Identifying Characteristics
her burn scars, and her light green eyes, which take on a peculiar sheen if she is excited, and especially if she is angry.
Physical quirks
Furrows eyebrows in concentration a lot. Unconsciously brushes the scars on her shoulders with her fingers quite a bit.nf
Apparel & Accessories
Leather or cloth hair tie(s) to control her massive amount of hair. A pair of tinted spectacles, which she uses to downplay her unusual eyes, rests on a cord around her neck (don't try to tell her they're matronly. she made them herself, and she will slap you.)
an old, many-times-repaired patchwork purse (given to her by her mother), which is almost never off her person.
You will not catch her dead in a skirt; skirts get in the way. Thigh-length tunic in a variegated mossy color, unboned bodice of forest green, with trousers of the same. Brown boots. A thigh holster for a dagger sits on her left leg. Knee-length hooded frock coat of charcoal grey, which has many hidden pockets. Were it not for the impression that her face tends to make on people who aren't used to her, she has purposely dressed herself to be unremarkable.
Mental characteristics
Personal history
- Lived in New Tashalatora from birth through part of her sixth year.
- Escaped the burning of her village with some severe burns of her own, but recovered as well as one can.
- Her patron, Soren Daugherty d'Cainnith, was the first person she ran to afterwords, having become acquainted with him over her early years.
- Soren is the one who set up her apprenticeship with Master Theolin Jazbay, which he did as soon as it was safe for her to travel there.
- Her brother, Mal-Harath, died before she was born. Everything she knows about him came from her mother.
Gender Identity
Female, but this doesn't hold a huge amount of significance for her.
Sexuality
She's 16, she has big feelings, and while she's obviously a bit "different," she's still a teenager. Sex isn't the first thing on her mind, but since she only remembers a silly childhood crush from her village, feeling any such desires isn't something she'll always be able to identify. She does understand that other people feel them, and has learned how to deal with them when they are directed at her. This usually means a world of pain for those who take it upon themselves to be rude about it.
Education
A decade-long apprenticeship with Master Theolin Jazbay, who trained Khel as both a wizard and an arcane scribe.
Employment
She has never worked for anyone but Master Jazbay since leaving her village. As a young child, she helped her mother sell and cook all kinds of food for the village, as well as to sell at market days in the Cyran town closest to her.
Accomplishments & Achievements
Has had around a decade of training as a wizard, even at just 16 years old.
Has many years of experience with food and cooking, a talent she continued to develop while with the wizard who trained her (Master Jazbay).
Mental Trauma
Formative events: an attack upon her village resulting in its burning to the ground. She will never rid herself of the image of her mother's face and body, burnt and bloody, barely moving. Khel recalls the moment she stood up from the ground to look back at the village. Her mother's voice called to her, telling her to run, and to never rest, and to survive. Then, she didn't speak any more. Armed with only a patchwork purse (made of leather and cloth scraps she and her mother had collected together) that her mother had shoved into her arms before throwing them both out of the window together as the flames licked at their backs, she sets out on her way, completely alone in the world at just six years old.
Years later, she comes to understand that her mother more than likely knew that someone would eventually come for her, and had packed a "go bag" of sorts in preparation for the inevitable. This makes the games they used to play together take on an entirely different meaning.
Intellectual Characteristics
Intelligent and studious. If there is research to be done, she is happy to do it; though she is no longer considered an apprentice wizard, Jazbay made absolutely sure she knew how he felt about wizards who get a little power and get "too big for their britches."
Social
Contacts & Relations
No living relations.
Soren Daugherty d'Cainnith is her patron. She met him as a child, and he was kind to her because she reminded him of his own daughter. He helped get her medical care and set her on her feet after the burning of her village.
Her brother, Mal-Harath, died before she was born, and his Quori spirit transferred itself to her.
Master Jazbay, who trained her in the use of her magical talent.
Family Ties
None. They're all dead.
Religious Views
She finds it hard to believe in too much, but she feels a deep desire to do good, especially since she desperately wants to make something good out of her terrible life history.
Social Aptitude
Surprisingly high. Even people who don't initially like her tend to change their tune quickly in the face of her friendly demeanor.
Mannerisms
Furrowed brows, expression of concentration.
Frequently reaching down to touch her patchwork purse, as if she is afraid it will just disappear.
Hobbies & Pets
She has a knack for cooking.
Relationships
History
Khel: As a child, she could have gone to Cyre to market, just over the border, and alerted someone important who happened to be at the market, and prejudiced against kalashtar.
Wealth & Financial state
Whatever she was able to save after her village burned, plus whatever Soren and Master Jazbay have given her over the years. Not an overwhelming amount by any means, but she is far from what she would call destitute.
Khel-Harath is a 16-year-old Kalashtar wizard. For a few years, Khel has been alone, fleeing from a danger she doesn't quite understand, apart from its name: the Dreaming Dark. "Run," her mother had said, as the house burned, "and don't you ever rest."
View Character Profile
Alignment
Neutral Good.
Birthplace
A small village in Breland not strictly on the map, but commonly called New Tashalatora, near the Cyran border
Spouses
Siblings
Children
Current Residence
Thaliost, with Master Theolin Jazbay
Gender
Female
Eyes
light green, almost like fine jade. Almond-shaped.
Hair
black--very long & straight, and normally pulled back from her face in two braids, which she holds together with whatever spare piece of cloth or leather she can find.
Skin Tone/Pigmentation
Her skin is light, with a very light sprinkling of freckles that come out when she gets a lot of sun.
Height
5 feet, 9 inches tall
Weight
About 140 pounds. Slight and willowy.
Memories of My Mother
I do not dream. Memories are where I go when I sleep, and for whatever reason, that train ride brought up memories of her.
I am young, flapping my hands in delight at the bubbles she blows at my face as she is up to her elbows in the washing. It is all she can do to keep little Khel in clean clothing, she says, what with how much she and the dirt seem to have made fast friends of one another. I giggle and run away, but not before I scoop up a handful of soapy mud and throw it in the air, letting it rain down on me in tiny, filthy droplets. She does not scold me; instead, she picks me up and tickles me, covering my face with kisses as she carries me off .....
I am taller...stronger....myself, but a different self. My feet pick their way between stones and my arms push aside branches, which pluck at my clothes with twigs that feel like scratching fingers. I am dirty, sweaty, ragged, and tired. But I keep going. I must not stop. Not for anything, not for sleep, not for food, not for the coughing, the dry heaving, the feverish shivers....All I am is a movement I can make. If I keep walking, step by step, I cannot be dying. But then I do stop. My feet do it for me, my knees give out, and I slump down, falling at the feet of a gnarled old oak with knots and scars that almost form a face. The last thing I think of before I sleep is my mother's face.
I sit in the cart as it bounces down the trail. We are going to market today, and have left as soon as we finished our morning communion with the Sun. There are various kinds of hand pies, the flavors and fillings of which I try to remember. "lamb and carrot, potato and leek, peach and apple, and...." There is a kind man who goes to the market. Will he be there today? My mother smiles, as if she knows what I am thinking.
I am half awake, and it feels as though I have just heard her voice.....
A Dream on the Train
Not a dream, exactly--more like pictures. You see, it doesn't always speak. This time, I got images--which, for me, is all they can be. Words are easier.
A hand, reaching out to drop a pomegranate into a child's hands. Cut to bloody hands, with pomegranate seeds stuck to them, clinging to the drying blood.
A smell, like mother--not my mother, but maternal. Warm, soft arms surround, and I can see the light blond hairs glowing gold in the light of the sunset. We have escaped the rain that came on after meditation.
Grass between tiny, dirty toes.
Setting sun, night passes at a gallop.
Rising sun, and smoke--something in the distance, belching it into the sky, where it never quite seems to fade.....