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Message: <blockquote data-quote="MadLuke" data-source="post: 5632250" data-attributes="member: 99802">Biography of Nam'har, Bedine fighter (exoticist)Nam'har was only eleven years old when he first participated in a raid, belonged to the Binwabi Bedine, through the Anarouch, and his tribe had never known any other way to survive if you do not plunder the caravans of merchants who dared to venture into the lands.For him, who was then just a kid, it was more than one race, was the baptism of blood. His brothers did not have no mercy of merchants and their families, they had not and would never have had, only the raging hot sun on the desert could be more ferocious than their own.After the initial loss due to sudden onset of battle, even Nam'har he fell headlong into the fray, his eagerness to imitate the most senior and experienced warriors gave him the thirst for blood, one of the soldiers of the escort roamed the field for the injured, he happened to be behind him, ran him through with his sword, when they fell back to earth he realized what he had just done: for the first time he had killed a person, then and there he even didn't paid particular attention.The memory of that day is soon lost in the memory, months, years later, the same ritual is repeated several times, always under the guidance of the cruel Alzhael, always more easily removed than the lives of people they knew nothing but who had made the mistake of being to pass through their territory.But that face, disfigured by pain and wounds that he had inflicted, that face he had never forgotten what kind of person was he? Honorable or not, he had killed in his life for money or maybe it was a gentle man? Nam'har beginning to wonder if what he was doing was right ...Six long years passed in this way, many predicted that the tradition that a boy could be called "man", far from the family home, only with their brethren to learn the art of survival.Then one day something happened that would change the lives of Nam'har. The scouts had spotted a small field of merchants on their way south, Alzhael "cusp" the smell of blood already looking forward to his order all hell broke loose, a script already seen and reviewed, pour the dead on the floor, screams of women and death everywhere. Nam'har was wandering near the point of collection of wagons, in the event of finding some object of value that had escaped. Instead he saw a little girl, curled up between two large wooden crates, she was shaking like a leaf. Approached with caution, considering his possible violent reaction but this did not move, just head up to face him and started to shake again, with greater intensity if possible: "Do not worry, I will not harm you."His attempt to calm was interrupted by a voice from outside: "Nah'mar did you find anything?"He only had time to whisper to the girl: "I will return, do not move." Then quickly jumped off the wagon: "No Alzhael, there is nothing here."He said in a firm tone and firm, not whether or not he was lying, but his boss looked at him intently for long moments: perhaps he had heard his words a little earlier, had read the truth in your eyes?"Okay, then please come into the largest tent to celebrate this new day of victory!" Spurred his horse and walked away, looked past.For the next several hours Nam'har did nothing but think about how to release the girl from the camp, he was innocent, was not part of the tribe of Binwabi, was not a Bedine, but could not find a single reason why he should do harm.Before midnight, his friends were already drunk in the big tent, some sleeping, others compare the different jewelry that were found. For him this was the right time, all you duck and quickly headed for the wagon where the girl, which did not even know the name, was waiting for him. Yet something was wrong: he had recommended not making the slightest noise, and yet could be heard from outside her whining.Looking more carefully, Nam'har understood: in the light of a torch he saw clearly the naked torso of Alzhael, bent over the little girl was about to rape her. His legs began to tremble, not for what he was seeing but he knew he would soon: silent and agile mounted the chariot, pulled out his khopesh agreed and pointed to the neck of his head. He never knew Alzhael say if he could feel his presence and then partially dodge the blow, or the fear of the consequences was to betray him, in any case, the blow was not mortal. That foul beast slumped cursing wildly. Nam'har wasted no time, weight loads on the shoulder and the little girl with her deft mounted on his steed.He rode with her all night without one of them said a word until he crossed the border dell'Anarouch. There finally came across a troop of armed horsemen, the Nam'har came forward with his hands up. In brief meeting with Captain Mooth Ror, Nam'har prayed only to return the girl to someone who could take care of her, maybe a relative, if it was still possible. A quick exchange of glances as she dismounted from his horse, was the only greeting that is conceded. Nam'har soon turned his back and began to gallop towards the east could not get back among his brothers, he would have expected certain death, and even his father could not prevent it. The only thing he could do was flee, waiting for that one day he was strong enough to return and challenge Alzhael "cusp" in a deadly duel.</blockquote>

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