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Hair: Chestnut brown Eyes: Blue Skin Tone: Light bronze
Though slightly above average in height, there was very little that could set Zamira apart from another face in the crowd. There were exotic markings or scars visible, her hair was an uneventful chestnut brown and her features just plain enough to pass as pretty. At least that was what a quick glance would reveal.
A closer look would show mischievous disposition and lips that were always quirked in a way that hinted at the knowledge of secrets. Thickly lashed eyes the color of sunlit water always looked around her in wonder, though there was a sharpness that suggested she was more aware of her surroundings than one might think. Her unremarkable hair was normally kept back in some form of a braid, feathers and beads woven into the chestnut strands hinting at time spent with the Chaktawe. At times a plain linen shawl was draped over her head and shoulders in the Benshiran style, though she rarely ever pinned the shawl to cover her face.
Character History
Zamira's history was a vague tale she had been told throughout her childhood, each story her father related seemed to be out of a book of fables than the truth. Was she the daughter of a Benshiran woman? Or perhaps a Svefran pirate who fell in love with her father only to leave after Zamira was born? Maybe she was a gift from Rhaus, a child born from the songs that Garrick had played in honor of his God... She knew for a fact that her father, Garrick, was a bard and story teller, that he had wandered across the lands of Mizahar before she was born and would continue to do so for the rest of his life. She knew that there was little chance she was his true daughter, after all his white blonde hair, pale skin and glittering green eyes held no resemblance to her own image. The only thing that was common between them were their love of music and traveling.
On Zamira's twentieth birthday, Garrick made the decision to let her travel on her own for a year and a day. He had kept her from growing up for far too long, most girls her age had been married and had at least two babes. As a father, he wanted to keep his daughter tucked close to his side. She was protected there, safe from the harshness of the world. At his side he could keep her eyes filled with childish wonder, keep her heart from becoming bruised or broken. At his side, though, she would wither like a wild song bird trapped in a cage. How long could he deny her the freedom to travel the world on her own? How could he expect her to learn the ways of Rhaus or to find the songs of Mizahar that called to her?
Language
Fluent Language: Common Basic Language: Poor Language: N/A Skills
Skill
EXP
Total
Proficiency
Playing Musical Instrument
20
#
Novice
Wilderness Survival
15
#
Novice
Singing
30
#
Competent
Lores Lore of Playing A Lap Harp Lore of The Traveling Bard