[hider=Zasheir adh Jelal, "Lumal"]
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[center][b][h1][color=8E2BFF]Zasheir adh Jelal[/color][/h1][/b][/center]
[center][sub][color=8E2BFF]"Your senses and emotions cloud your judgement- they blind you to what's [i]real[/i]."[/color][/sub][/center]

[h2][color=8E2BFF]General Info[/color][/h2]
[b][color=8E2BFF]Race:[/color][/b] Human
[b][color=8E2BFF]Age:[/color][/b] 59
[b][color=8E2BFF]Height:[/color][/b] 6'1"
[b][color=8E2BFF]Class:[/color][/b] Monk - Astral Self
[b][color=8E2BFF]Appearance:[/color][/b] 
Zasheir is a heap of toned muscle beneath heavily scarred flesh. Matted strands of gray hair spill from the sides and back of his head down to the middle of his neck, rough, drooping cheekbones frame a thick and broken nose, and his left eye is discolored and gray. By most of Calimport's standards, Zasheir is a very ugly man. Though the whip scars oddly suit him, like a familiar and broken-in coat, it's obvious that he is entirely unconcerned with his appearance, dressing only in a ragged pair of trousers and eschewing any offerings or opportunities to clean himself or his possessions.

In stark contrast, Zasheir's body is in [i]incredible[/i] shape. The only vestiges of his age that show themselves here are the veiny wrinkles on the backs of his hands and a slight sag to his flanks. His arms are strong and corded, his neck and shoulders are broad, and he walks with an air of youth and athleticism that entirely betrays his aged mask. At nearly all times, the man is shrouded in a naturally foul smell, with olfactory threads of a botanical or chemical scent poking through. Having been an indentured resident of the Shackles Ward for most of his life, Zasheir very much continues to look the part of an ill-treated slave, and seems, of all things, comfortable with the stigma it brings. 

[h2][color=FF5724]Background[/color][/h2]
[b][color=FF5724]Personality:[/color][/b]
[i]"At all times we are encircled by two worlds- what is and what isn't. Material and imaginary. Real and not real. Our judgement is the only weapon we can hope to brandish at the latter."[/i]

Zasheir could be succinctly described as a mystical, ascetic monk, but to do so would extinguish the kernel of truth and nuance to his beliefs. His age and experiences have largely reinforced and buttressed these to the point where he can be a bit hard to budge. The central point of his dogma is the idea that there are two realms that someone inhabits at all times- the material, which he defines as things he [i]knows[/i] are real and true, and an imagined realm that is populated by one's senses, emotions, and perceptions. 

[i]"Many come across this conundrum at one time or another, but few have the stomach to confront it. Fewer still rebut 'what if?' and in sidestepping the question, they deny themselves an identity all their own."[/i]

Zasheir believes that accurately parsing the material and imagined realms through judgement allows one to truly transcend, this transcendence being what powers his ki and allows him to perform the extraordinary feats of athleticism he does. However, determining what is truly [i]real[/i] is no simple task, for the imagined realm exists solely to harry and cloud your acumen. Zasheir pinpoints three main aggressors in this- vanity, pleasure, and fear. 

[i]"Unchain yourself from how others view you- perhaps even, from how you view yourself."[/i]

The monk subverts vanity by embracing his repulsiveness. He seeks to be seen as vile and odious by those he interacts with- this was difficult in the Shackles Ward, where hygiene continues to be a blessing, but in the other Wards and drudachs Zasheir has flourished in the loathing he is capable of receiving. He purposely engages in anti-social behavior, shouting curses near funerals, openly imbibing narcotics, crashing private social gatherings- judging by his weathered scars, he has regularly been punished for such behavior. 

[i]"Pain will help you see clearly. It cuts through bliss and comfort like a fresh efreeti blade."[/i]

Pleasure is tackled by welcoming pain and discomfort. An easy task for a near permanent insubordinate in the Shackles Ward, Zasheir is very familiar with the bite of the whips from the House of Nine Blessings. His skin is covered in memories from his times there. He also seeks out discomfort, choosing to sleep in the most uncomfortable places or positions, all in an effort to "see clearly" through the imagined realm and help him grasp what is [i]real[/i].

[i]"Fear is a challenge. If you let it win, it will arrest your mind."[/i]

Fear can only be quelled by confrontation. For Zasheir, it is the fear of death, of being made [i]unreal[/i]. A rather morose dedication, the monk partakes in memento mori; a token kept on his person that reminds him that one day, he will die. This takes the form of a necklace of small fish bones strung around his throat, and a pertinence to carry some sort of small animal corpse on his belt, usually a mouse or rat. 

[i]"And if insight is needed, one need only partake in the labours of the underworld-"[/i]

Zasheir is a heavy user of narcotics, preferring hallucinogenic ones- dreammist and traveler's dust are his preferred substances, but the rarity or price of the two compared to opium in Calimport sometimes give him little in the way of choice. Zashier believes the visions given by their use offer him insight, or at least act as a way for him to exercise and train his judgement of what is real and what isn't. 

[b][color=FF5724]Short History:[/color][/b]
Zasheir adh Jelal was actually born Druzir Zasheir yn Nazkim el Lorkhan, the son and future inheritor of his father's drudach in the sabban of Pahlemm, itself within the Caravans Ward of Calimport. He was raised amongst all the fineries the villa of a lesser noble could afford; he was taught business and logic, how to hold and use a weapon, and even debate and administration. Zasheir does not look upon this time of his life in a positive light- he believes he was blinded by the gilded trappings and silken regalia, but also realizes that he couldn't possibly have known better. He exuded charisma and guile as he stepped into his father's role after his passing, and had his chance encounter with the thugs from the Muzad- the undercity- never happened, Zasheir probably would've continued on this very path until his eventual death. 

Fate had other things in store for the young nobleman. At this point in his life, Zasheir had grown complacent with his station; he ate some of the finest foods, enjoyed delicious wines, and had filled his family's coffers to the point that his children's children wouldn't have to worry about finance. Zasheir was worried only about he and his own; what life was worth living if it wasn't spent enjoying every second of it? His family cherished him and his pursuits, he was respected by his amlakkar, and he was even awaiting being wed to the most beautiful woman he had laid his eyes on. He was a man who wanted for nothing. 

It was a beautiful night when it happened. Zasheir was taking a side street from Pahlemm's khanduq back to his villa when a silk-robed stranger bumped shoulders with him. On any other night, Zasheir would've been quick to check his pockets- one didn't grow up in Calimport without learning to be wary- but Selûne had been graceful to that dark sky, and a business-weary Zasheir wished for nothing else than to lose himself in the warmly lit halls of his home, and to immerse himself in a comforting bath. His mind was set on pleasure, then, and only the rustling of chainmail in front of him broke his stupor. It was a young half-elven amlak, one Zasheir wasn't familiar with, accompanied by Magistrate Khalid al Anachtyr, the magistrate who held jurisdiction over Pahlemm. He was a bookish and grim looking fellow, that night even moreso. Zasheir remembers the light of the moon catching the spectacles on the end of his nose as he shook his head like a disappointed parent. "How could you," he had said, "when you've been the grace of your family name." Zasheir was confused as the amlak stepped forward, a pair of irons in one hand. Confusion turned to bewilderment as the guardsman withdrew a small vial of red crystals, each no bigger than a grain of salt. Traveler's dust. A glance behind was fruitless- the man who had bumped into him was nowhere in sight. 

The following morning, the story broke that Pahlemm's well had almost been poisoned with traveler's dust, but the saboteurs had been apprehended. Shockingly, Druzir Zasheir was on the list, and apparently he had spearheaded the plot. His case was passed from the magistrate to the vizier of the ward, and was found guilty. Bargaining for his life, Zasheir managed to negotiate himself into slavery instead, and at the age of 35, was hoisted across Calimport in irons and interred into the Shackles Ward. 

For a time, he resented having nothing. He was filled with anger and wroth at those who had taken his things. Those feelings slowly morphed into a resentment of Calimport as a whole, a city that was corrupt to its core. Zasheir resigned to quiet rebellion- his ownership changed hands several times, each one unimpressed with the meek slave who only barely did what was asked of him and never anything more. He became a regular at the House of Nine Blessings for punishment, and fervently wore his cuts with pride as a symbol of his malicious compliance. This was Zasheir's life for the next decade; the physical tasks he was forced to do strengthened his body, and he retreated into his own mind, growing his willpower from his persistence to endure, knowing some day he would find the opportunity for revenge. 

Fate would throw him another curveball, however. One night, whilst again being perused by potential buyers in Katar's High, a scuffle created an opportunity for the ownerless slaves to escape into the Muzad. Finally presented with the fruits of his patience, Zasheir bit, and fled into Calimport's undercity, narrowly avoiding recapture. He chose to reside here until his scars healed- to make them somewhat less recognizeable- and adopted the pseudonym 'Lumal' to reflect his opinion on both others and himself. He was eventually offered a job as a runner, and transported narcotics through the Muzad, earning himself a tidy little profit, even if he had few places he could truly spend it. Zasheir, now called Lumal, made several close connections during this time, people he still considers to be true friends. It's hard to be deceitful on an empty belly, he would learn. 

During one run transporting traveler's dust, he and a wizardly companion accidentally tripped a magical trap and summoned a guardian djinn. They had been taught to simply discard evidence if caught, and Zasheir obliged, though luck and a gust of wind from the djinn had a crystal catch in Zasheir's eye. At the same time, his mage companion banished he and the djinn- discarding evidence, after all- to the elemental plane of air. This would come to be the single most life changing moment for the Monk, and as he describes it, he finally saw clearly for the first time. He claims the djinn spoke to him about how perceptions and emotions are mere illusions; how man's yearning for pleasure and insistence on good impressions were often their own undoing. Though he was there for mere moments, when Zasheir was shunted back into the Material Plane he claims his life truly began. It was the first time he felt a spark of something within, something of true power and value. 

He quickly spent all of his collected money on narcotics, searching for more insight he believed they brought. With each bout of drug-fueled enlightenment, Zasheir felt he was closer to a truer understanding of [i]something[/i]. When he realized that that [i]something[/i] was [i]himself[/i], he cemented his coda in his mind. Vanity, pleasure, and fear had brought him nothing but bad judgement and resentment and should be avoided- however, he was but a man, and the imagined realm of his mind would only work against him and towards those baser impulses. Thus, for perfect clarity, he had to fight these senses by imposing and embracing their opposites- revulsion, discomfort, and confrontation. 

Zasheir now works odd jobs to afford his habits, and in searching for insight took up monastic training. The "spark of understanding" he had felt was actually him controlling his ki for the first time, and over the last several years spent listlessly wandering Calimport (mostly the Shackles Ward) made a little bit of a name for himself as an accomplished warrior under his pseudonym of Lumal. 

[b][color=FF5724]Skills and Abilities:[/color][/b]
[list]
[*]Hand to Hand Combat - Coinciding with his monastic training and the awakening of his ki, Zasheir has trained himself in the art of unarmed combat, in which he has grown very proficient.    
[*]Ki - Zasheir has learned to control and evoke his ki, allowing him to easily accomplish staggering physical feats for someone his age. His most noticeable use involves him physically shaping it around his arms, acting almost as an extension of them. 
[*]Drugs - Zasheir is encyclopedic in his knowledge of the mind-altering fruits of the undercity. He knows most of their effects, where to get them, and how much they cost. Most of this knowledge comes from experience, barring the excessively dangerous ones. 
[*]Endurance - He is a peak physical specimen. Through sheer willpower and use of his ki alone, Zasheir can withstand gruesome amounts of pain and not falter; if anything, he seems to [i]enjoy[/i] it. 
[/list]

[h2][color=F5E72C]Equipment[/color][/h2] 
[b][color=F5E72C]Weapons & Armor:[/color][/b]
[list]
[*][url=https://thespinkick.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/muay-thai-hand-ropes.jpg]Hand Ropes[/url] - Zasheir fights with no weapons, instead relying on his fists, feet, elbows, and knees. He wraps his hands and forearms with rope, knots placed strategically at the knuckles.
[*][url=https://static.wikia.nocookie.net/elderscrolls/images/3/39/RaggedTrousers.png/revision/latest?cb=20120513054459]Ragged Trousers[/url] - They are supremely dirty and worn, the only item adorning the rope belt being his pipe. He usually keeps them tucked into his boots.
[*][url=https://cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/1093/6274/products/Persian-Boots-6_1024x1024.jpg?v=1561568251]Leather boots[/url] and [url=https://collectionapi.metmuseum.org/api/collection/v1/iiif/314528/662371/main-image]tunic[/url] - Both of these were given to Zasheir by a kindly Chultan merchant who mistook him for a beggar. He remains committed to not washing either of them, however.
[/list]
[b][color=F5E72C]Accessories & Miscellaneous:[/color][/b]
[list]
[*][url=https://www.dndbeyond.com/magic-items/ring-of-water-walking]Ring of Water Walking[/url] - He keeps it strung amongst the fish bones of his necklace. A useful parlor trick that earned him some coinage was to simply stand on the top of a full bucket of water. 
[*][url=https://roll20.net/compendium/dnd5e/Rope%20of%20Climbing#content]Rope of Climbing[/url] - 10 ft. Each five foot half is what he keeps wrapped around his hands. 
[*][url=https://i.pinimg.com/originals/1c/fb/6a/1cfb6ada51ececc877974c92b1445e2a.jpg]Pipe[/url] - Zasheir stole it from a den in the Muzad. 
[*]Very simple and functional wooden canteen, small enough to fit in the pocket of his trousers. He also stores his coins in here. 
[/list]
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