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[sub]J’torha has one gold eye (left) and one red eye (right), a trait his tribe considered lucky. He generally dresses in brightly coloured, loose-fitting clothes that allow for plenty of movement and attractive flourish, and is fond of beads, bells, bangles - really anything that attracts attention to movement. One might notice his matching scars on either cheek, but they’re the one topic J’torha’s more likely to shy away from.[/sub][/center]
[color=FFAB66][b]Name[/b][/color] [indent]J’torha Tia[/indent]
[color=FFAB66][b]Race[/b][/color] [indent]Miqo’te - Seeker of the Sun[/indent]
[color=FFAB66][b]Age[/b][/color] [indent]23[/indent]
[color=FFAB66][b]Class[/b][/color] [indent]Dancer[/indent]
[color=FFAB66][b]Place of Origin[/b][/color] [indent]Fabul Desert[/indent]
[color=FFAB66][b]Personality[/b][/color] [indent]J’torha knows a little about a lot of things and a lot about little; plainly speaking, he’s not an expert at much outside of singing, dancing, flirting and making merry, unless you also count boring things like tribal hunting tactics or eking out an existence in the harsh Fabul desert. Generally happiest when all eyes are on him - even at his own expense - his airy confidence tends to stray into cockiness, and he doesn’t see much beyond the moment, often blind to the consequences of his hastily-decided actions. Like as not, that can end poorly when his urge to push the envelope overrides his common sense, but he offsets his occasional bad luck with an insufferable ‘could have been worse’ attitude, rarely taking much of anything seriously. [/indent]
[color=FFAB66][b]Backstory[/b][/color] [indent]J’torha had a relatively normal upbringing, as Fabul Seekers are concerned. Born into an average-sized nomadic tribe with a strong and level-headed nunh, J’torha spent his childhood roaming a long-established migratory path through the rough of the Fabul desert, stopping off at small outposts and settlements every now and then and hunting for food and other valuable trading materials in between. 

As soon as he could walk, he was difficult to keep still; among other antics, he was notorious for running off in the direction of anything that caught his eye, danger or obstacles be damned. The letting-off of rambunctious energy that his mother prayed for as he grew never quite arrived, and even as a teen when he became as proficient a hunter as any of his sisters, his penchant for getting himself into trouble was a regular headache - both for his mother, and the nunh himself. Stopping off at outposts did nothing to curb his appetite for adventure, either; in fact, the only habit of his that changed with time was that he eventually stopped chasing mice and butterflies and started chasing comely maidens instead. 

In the rare moments when he wasn’t letting his lower head do all the thinking, J’torha found himself entranced by [i]performing.[/i] Whether it be watching a busker in a town they’d stopped off at, listening to a well-told story in a pub, or even regaling his own mother and sisters with stories and songs, J’torha couldn’t get enough. The eyes of spectators focused on him, the excited questions, the clapping, the showmanship - it was all intoxicating, enough to turn a teenaged Miqo’te into an insufferable showboat, eager to show anyone and everyone anything that might possibly draw out a reaction. Granted, it did have the side effect of turning an already devil-may-care teen into an outright daredevil, but in J’torha’s eyes, the risk was always worth the reward of a striking tale to tell. 

Things changed quickly for him when he came of age. Striking out on his own shortly after his nameday with the ever-original goal of amassing his own harem and starting a new tribe, it shouldn’t come as a surprise that J’torha’s gotten a little… side-tracked. Filled as he is with wanderlust and finally free to pursue a life outside of hunting, he’s clamoured to every destination he could beg, borrow, or steal to get to and tried his hand at every skill, profession, and strange-look-attracting hobby that’s crossed his path. About a year into his wandering he was fortunate enough to cross paths with a dancing troupe, and after some negotiating, some flirting, and a little begging, he managed to convince them to take him on as an apprentice. He traveled with them for a while, quickly moving up the ranks from assistant to instrumentalist to dancer in his own right, and attracted spectators and coin alike with his performances (and if he could line his pockets a little thicker by obliging the wealthy lady eyeing him up from the back, all the better). But of course, once he’d acquired his skills and begun to sharpen them, his wanderlust could no longer be sated by routine troupe touring, and he struck out on his own again as a solo act, doing his best to learn new songs and dances to add to his repertoire in every locale he passed through. 

Today he finds himself in Alexandria, chafing under the pressure of the newly-closed borders. Out of options to entertain himself stuck in one place and unwilling to give crossing out of the city illegally another go (as it turns out, that garrison’s a lot quicker than they look) he’s turned to the Hunter’s Guild as a last resort, hopeful he can shake a few hands and slay a few shrews and be out of the city by the end of the fortnight. [/indent]