A character created and formerly played by R. Dobbs. History Khalid remembers very little of his former life. He was washed ashore near a remote fishing village in Sokaru some ten years ago, with the wounds of battle upon him. The fisherfolk thought he might have been cast overboard during a corsair's attack. Knowing little of such wounds, the villagers brought him to their healer, a hermit shogenji (mystic) who lived in the mountains nearby. Although his body healed, Khalid retained very little memory of his former life. The shogenji, looking at the set of his muscles and the way he moved, was certain that Khalid had been a warrior... but Khalid would not touch the scimitar that was found, some days later, in a fisherman's net. Hearing the Drum of the Worlds in these events, the shogenji started to teach Khalid the healer's art, that he might have a craft in the world. Khalid took readily to this, learning surgery, herb-lore, and manipulation of the joints. The shogenji also taught Khalid a subtle form of dance and self defense which promoted harmony in the soul, even as it defended the innocent. Khalid stayed on for some years, a valued help to his "uncle" and the village. Gradually, though, he grew restless. He took his leave of the village and the shogenji, following the pull of his restlessness, and made his way by foot and by galley back to Shazrad. As the tale opens, Khalid will be coming off the galley, in port, relearning the ways of the city which apparently was home for him for the first part of his life, and seeking a place to take up his Way as a healer.. in Drakhash, a hakim. Description Khalid stands 6 feet tall, some 235 pounds in weight. He is stocky, and looks like a man who was once in prime fighting condition... and has let it pass for more scholarly pursuits. He is ruddy in complexion, and wears his greying hair shaved bald, save for a long horsetail at the back, bound by a bronze fillet. He generally wears a single earring or onyx teardrop from the left ear. He prefers sleeveless tunics, sashes about the waist, and loose pantaloons, generally in rich earth tones. He moves quietly for a man of his size, like one who has been taught economy and grace... almost like a dancer. Khalid suffers from mood swings. He is generally merry and expansive; but there is an introspective, self-doubting streak about him which sometimes expresses itself in melancholia. Khalid is something of an aesthete; his attention can be diverted by beautiful things or people, and he has been known to lose his train of thought entirely if he notices a superb rug, or hears a fine voice chanting poetry or song. He much prefers two or three fine pieces of furniture to a clutter of simply pretty ones. Introduction The solitude of the Garden of Prisms was always welcome, especially today. It was easy to wander about for hours without encountering another person. But as Khalid followed the curve of the path, his eye caught upon an unusual pattern that proved someone had been here before him. The rocks were arranged into words... ....which was not uncommon in the Garden. But instead of a prayer, or a offering-cairn, the rocks spelled out a poem--an unusual one, at that: Your past is long dead your new life tranquil, quiet; why return? The big man ran a hand over his scalp, meditatively, as he looked at the stones. Kanta syllable-poems were all but unknown here in Shazrad... and, for that matter, were not composed by the common folk in Sokaru, either. Priests, scholars, mages certainly wrote them. But kanta were generally supposed to evoke a mood, to be delicate and suggestive. This was rather more direct, more disturbing. "Of course, it might not even be meant for me," Khalid muttered under his breath. Then he grinned, and shook his head. It might not be for me, surely; but ... it has the feel of a puzzle left for me, it surely does... Khalid had spent much of his new life learning to trust those feelings; his mentor, Zhen Li, thought that the intuition was a vital faculty for a healer. He sat down near the poem, stilling himself, and waited. After a short time, he smiled. He got up, looked about him for something... yes, there; sand, white sand, it would do nicely. He bent to cup some in his hand, composing as he did. Then he wrote, next to the poem, on the green turf: The past is not dead Its drums thunder; I follow, Listening... Straightening, Khalid shook the last of the sand back onto the path. If I'm right, in a day, or two, something should come of this... He smiled, then continued softly down the path, back to his home. Read about Khalid in the archives Copyright © 2000-2001 by Alioqui & Yoon Ha Lee <shazrad@cityofveils.com> [ Return to the top of the page ]