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The One True Game: According to Hoyle, and Others
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<blockquote data-quote="howandwhy99" data-source="post: 2804567" data-attributes="member: 3192"><p><em>Posted on behalf of Beermotor:</em></p><p></p><p><strong>Houshang’s Background</strong></p><p></p><p>Houshang is a merchant from a far away land of sand dunes and spice caravans, camels and caliphs. Apprenticed to a capricious mystic and trader of antiquities, drugs, potions, cures, ointments, minerals, hides, water, camels, donkeys, and just about anything he could get his greasy paws on, Houshang's lot in life was scribe, accountant, and servant (occasionally cook). As part of his servitude, usually a byproduct of simply being underfoot or on-call at all hours of the day or night, he gained surreptitious knowledge a small amount of mystic secrets, which he honed and practiced in secrecy. Longing to strike out on his own, and thereby amass wealth of his own, Houshang toiled in dejection. Until one day, traversing a dangerous region through a blasted canyon, their caravan was attacked by a lone figure dressed in tattered black robes, hurling bolts of fire and screaming obscenities against Houshang's master. Startled (well, afraid for his life and mortal soul might be more appropriate), Houshang sought cover beneath a wagon ... filled to the top with rare miscellanea from a far Eastern region. A purple-blue bolt of energy struck the wagon during the fray, and a terrible explosion threw the breath from his body and darkened his consciousness. He awoke in a different place, bruised but not otherwise hurt, with only the gear he was carrying at the time of the ambush and an incredible, gods-cursed headache. Standing up, brushing the dust of a far-away land off his clothes, he understood he would be collecting a different dust on his sandals in the very near future. Well, at least there was no more master to worry about.</p><p> </p><p>Tall and dark skinned, Houshang wears grubby sand-colored robes (well, they were white, once), which hide his heavily-tattooed skin. Black ink forms mystic spider-like writing all over him, including his shaven head, and while it marked him as a servant and apprentice to his master in his homeland, here it probably just looks exotic, weird, and possibly evil. He will take great pains to hide the markings at all times, keeping his head hooded and covered with the assistance of (whatever once of those rope cord dealies are called - a la Yasser Arafat), feeling they are marks of shame and his humble past which will cloud his newfound freedom. Houshang's love is for gold and women, in that order, and only for them. He isn't mean-spirited or evil and finds (unjust or unwarranted) cruelty reprehensible, but is honest (to the point of being blunt) and trustworthy as befitting his mercantilist nature, a firm believer in capitalism and survival of the fittest. And while he hated his master, his secret desire is to become that man - master of the caravan, seeker of rare treasures and hidden knowledge, possessor of a sizable harem and herd of camels, and of course, servants to do his bidding. (Thus the Neutrality alignment.)</p><p></p><p><u>Current Dress</u></p><p>Dressed in loose, flowing beige (once they were white) robes with a leather cord to affix the hood, Houshang stands at an average height for a human. His well-travelled robes and wrappings (not tattered, ahem) conceal a lean but hardy frame, covered in a strange inked script. Hoisted over his shoulders is a large backpack which clanks loudly of pots, pans, and all the gear necessary for the life of a merchant's servant, which he claims once was his ... before he ended up here. He now stands leaning on a wicked 8-foot pike, looking around from the depths of his shadowed hood, quietly assessing his surroundings and their inherent potential for profit. The backs of his hands are carefully wrapped in cloth to the forearm to hide his tattooed skin from suspicious eyes. His sandal-clad feet and lower legs are wrapped in a similar manner.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="howandwhy99, post: 2804567, member: 3192"] [i]Posted on behalf of Beermotor:[/i] [b]Houshang’s Background[/b] Houshang is a merchant from a far away land of sand dunes and spice caravans, camels and caliphs. Apprenticed to a capricious mystic and trader of antiquities, drugs, potions, cures, ointments, minerals, hides, water, camels, donkeys, and just about anything he could get his greasy paws on, Houshang's lot in life was scribe, accountant, and servant (occasionally cook). As part of his servitude, usually a byproduct of simply being underfoot or on-call at all hours of the day or night, he gained surreptitious knowledge a small amount of mystic secrets, which he honed and practiced in secrecy. Longing to strike out on his own, and thereby amass wealth of his own, Houshang toiled in dejection. Until one day, traversing a dangerous region through a blasted canyon, their caravan was attacked by a lone figure dressed in tattered black robes, hurling bolts of fire and screaming obscenities against Houshang's master. Startled (well, afraid for his life and mortal soul might be more appropriate), Houshang sought cover beneath a wagon ... filled to the top with rare miscellanea from a far Eastern region. A purple-blue bolt of energy struck the wagon during the fray, and a terrible explosion threw the breath from his body and darkened his consciousness. He awoke in a different place, bruised but not otherwise hurt, with only the gear he was carrying at the time of the ambush and an incredible, gods-cursed headache. Standing up, brushing the dust of a far-away land off his clothes, he understood he would be collecting a different dust on his sandals in the very near future. Well, at least there was no more master to worry about. Tall and dark skinned, Houshang wears grubby sand-colored robes (well, they were white, once), which hide his heavily-tattooed skin. Black ink forms mystic spider-like writing all over him, including his shaven head, and while it marked him as a servant and apprentice to his master in his homeland, here it probably just looks exotic, weird, and possibly evil. He will take great pains to hide the markings at all times, keeping his head hooded and covered with the assistance of (whatever once of those rope cord dealies are called - a la Yasser Arafat), feeling they are marks of shame and his humble past which will cloud his newfound freedom. Houshang's love is for gold and women, in that order, and only for them. He isn't mean-spirited or evil and finds (unjust or unwarranted) cruelty reprehensible, but is honest (to the point of being blunt) and trustworthy as befitting his mercantilist nature, a firm believer in capitalism and survival of the fittest. And while he hated his master, his secret desire is to become that man - master of the caravan, seeker of rare treasures and hidden knowledge, possessor of a sizable harem and herd of camels, and of course, servants to do his bidding. (Thus the Neutrality alignment.) [u]Current Dress[/u] Dressed in loose, flowing beige (once they were white) robes with a leather cord to affix the hood, Houshang stands at an average height for a human. His well-travelled robes and wrappings (not tattered, ahem) conceal a lean but hardy frame, covered in a strange inked script. Hoisted over his shoulders is a large backpack which clanks loudly of pots, pans, and all the gear necessary for the life of a merchant's servant, which he claims once was his ... before he ended up here. He now stands leaning on a wicked 8-foot pike, looking around from the depths of his shadowed hood, quietly assessing his surroundings and their inherent potential for profit. The backs of his hands are carefully wrapped in cloth to the forearm to hide his tattooed skin from suspicious eyes. His sandal-clad feet and lower legs are wrapped in a similar manner. [/QUOTE]
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