FG: Rawi Ahmad

**Sobs, yes I am aware the Arabic is backwards. Photoshop hates Arabic formatting. Don't mention it. I die every day.

[BASICS]
   Name: Rawi ibn Ahmad
   Age: 29
   Date of Birth: March 7th
   Gender: Male
   Height & Weight: 6’ 1” (185.5 cm), 195 lbs (89 kg)

   Species: Mixed
   Biome: Desert
   Flower(s): Kudu (Adenium obesum), Desert Germander (Teucrium oliverianum)

   Occupation: Travelling Storyteller/Street Performer and Peddler, Blade for hire.
   Ranking: Level 1
   Bloom Trait: TBD

  
[STATS]
   HP: --
   STR: --
   DEX: --
   CON: --
   INT: --
   WIS: --
   CHA: --



[APPEARANCE]
   Hair Color: Deep violet, varying shades of purple highlights, soft curls.
   Eye Color:  Vivid magenta.
   Physical | External Appearance: The nomad’s stature is tall, and his athletic frame strung with lean muscle, stretched over long and limber limbs.. It’s powerful enough to withstand the harshness of the terrain and climate from which he hails, and flexible enough not to hinder the fluidity of his movement when dancing. It’s evident with just one glance at him, stamina leaks into his very bones. His skin, at base is a medium tone, darkened further by the sun. Thick, loose curls of a deep violet whisp in any direction they please when left to hang and not tied back and tucked haphazardly into the scarf wrapped about his head. The lowest layer rests just above his shoulders, collecting at the back of his neck. Stalks of germander streak through his hair, the roots at his crown. They sprawl down his neck and coil about his arms and hips. Roots and stems web his body like veins, rising over his cheeks and collarbone, spidering from his spine, and down his legs, where ever the plants take hold. The most striking thing about him, however, might be the vivid pink hue of his eyes, mimicking the color of the kudu blossoms that litter his body, mingling with the soft purple of germander.

[PURPOSE]
    Rawi’s current purpose, in short is a self imposed one. His wanderlust is partially innate, and partially the culture in which he was born into; to explore and gather the stories of the land beneath his feet, as well as to leave behind his own footprint and vibrancy is something that might as well flow through his roots and veins. However, now it has a direction. While he doesn’t think he will ever find it in himself to stay in one place for an extended period of time, he will not rest until he finds a cure, or stable treatment for his sister’s ailment. He longs to see the day she can dance on her own two feet again.

And after that, perhaps his course will turn for a path a little less selfish.


[HISTORY | PERSONALITY]
   Zodiac Sign: Pisces
   Likes: music, stargazing, spicy foods, the rising and setting sun, rain, people watching, freedom to come and go as he pleases
   Dislikes: tightly enclosed spaces, large crowds, anything that makes him feel trapped, food with no flavour, cold weather

   Hobbies/Talents: Beadwork and simple jewelry making, most of which he sells, though some he wears. Most are cobbled together from found objects if they’re not hand beaded or woven. Storytelling through song and dance; his feet are nimble, his back supple, hips that glide, and his ear finely tuned with a voice that croons in soft baritone. Though, Rawi is known more to idly pick at his oud, creating new melodies for his performances, or using it as something to pass the time. The instrument in particular he carries was handmade by his father, and is one of the few possessions of his parents that he still has.

   Personality: If there’s anything to be said about Rawi, it is that he’s a brilliant actor. He exudes charm and charisma, and knows how to play to a crowd. As Shakespeare once put it, the world is his stage. The world is his people’s stage. And he never left it. He never plans to.
However, it is a farce, a well crafted mask to which he painted every line with acute precision.
Rawi, in truth, is a quiet man, and prefers simplicity and occasional solitude. Centerstage only when he has to be, Rawi would much rather be a wallflower, favoring to observe and watch from a distance. He finds joy in the vibrancy of others as much as they find joy in his when he performs. He picks and gleans information from them, how they act, what they do, little secrets they may not know they give. Everything tells a story, and he can read it. Though it also keeps him very untrusting of other people.
As such, Rawi has become a rather adept liar, himself, and often uses his knack for observation to his aid. It was born out of a "need", due to his less than savory side occupation, however because of the nature of his constantly mobile lifestyle, and being incredibly untrusting of strangers, this knack for lying has become an unfortunate habit. Though it comes in the form of half truths and omission. Little white lies, and clever phrasing. It is almost a defense mechanism, helping to wedge a distance between himself and other people. It has a tendency to make it very difficult for Rawi to make lasting connections with others outside of polite,but shallow acquaintances.
Movement is in his very nature, too. Not only in how he drifts from place to place, nor how his body moves to the beat of a song, but in the fact he fidgets. No part of him can seem to stay still. Aside from when he wills it, through sheer concentration or need.
Though loyalty is thick in his blood, and should he linger long enough to let someone past his carefully constructed walls, he would do anything for them, even at his own expense.


   History: Long before Gaia’s curse gripped an ungrateful world, and long after the curse took root (Ha.), there was a group of people who roamed the arid deserts,and made every inch of their unforgiving sands their home. Rawi ibn Ahmad was born into one such clan, who had taken it upon themselves to adapt to the desert biome that had formed in the curse’s wake. Though their customs and way of life was as ancient as the sand they walked on.
His parents were a pair of pure flowers, as bold as the blossoms that sprouted from their bodies. His father, Ahmad, was a germander with a knack for song, and the patience of a saint that aided him in the tending of the caravan’s flocks, and entertaining the children that would run about his feet. His mother, Fatima, was a kudu,  and lived up to the reputation of her flower in her colorful nature, vibrant personality, and quick temper. They loved him as much as they loved each other, and their people. And with them, Rawi thrived in the culture he was born into, while wholly relishing the freedoms and the dangers the desert had to offer.
He learned much from his parents. The art of song and storytelling from his father, the art of dance from his mother, and the useful, but poisonous properties of the sap that oozed from the stems of the kudu plant that she and her son were “blessed” with.
And so was the normalcy of his life from childhood until his early teenage years, through the typical ups and downs of living in such a harsh environment, and the camaraderie of their caravan. Until tragedy struck.
No one really knows where they picked it up, or how it started, though one by one, members of the troupe began to show signs of leaf rot striking their blossoms. The first life the disease claimed was an elder, and as the plants that sprouted from the man’s body withered, so did his human body, as both were so intimately and intricately intertwined through the curse’s gift. Two more succumbed to the rot before its signs began to show in Rawi’s father, and then, his very pregnant mother. In an attempt to keep the disease from spreading, Ahmad and Fatima made the difficult choice to break from their community, and leave their caravan behind. Concerned for his parents, and his unborn sister’s well being, Rawi joins his parents. Alone they travel, flitting from city to city, often resorting to begging to make ends meet. Not long after the birth of his sister, Rawan, his mother fell to her illness. A year later, his father.
Rawi was left alone with his toddler sister, and suddenly the desert seemed so very fast, and far more unforgiving.
Though it did not deter the young Botanik nomad, and he was quick to fall back on the things he learned in his youth, and from his parents’ legacy in order to ensure both is and his sister’s survival. From street urchin in the city who sang and performed in the streets, to roving wanderer, with his young sister strapped to his back, Rawi rambled along the biome. Begging, borrowing, and stealing had also become near second nature to him, as long as it put food in his and Rawan’s mouth, and clothes on their back.
Though it didn’t quite make the cut, and the gutter was no place for them to live. Especially not when he longed for his sister to have the life he once knew; happy and free.
Rawi began to search for other options. And those came at the edge of a blade coated in his poison sap. It was a technique he wasn’t thrilled to fall back on, though it was one that was interesting to hone through the years, and through far too many mistakes. It also proved to be far more lucrative. One successful job brought in exponentially more than the meager tips thrown into their basket. So, this side occupation grew, as he too grew, and grew into it, yet remained a shadow of his true passions.
Just as everything seemed to be falling into a rightful place, and Rawi and Rawan were carving their way in the world, the leaf rot they thought they left behind raised it’s ugly and dormant head. The disease had passed from their mother to Rawan, though only begun to show as she passed into adolescence, and her blossoms had begun to really, well… blossom.
This blow was devastating to Rawi, and affected him greatly in ways he does not always readily see. The realization began a downward spiral of detachment, yet it also began the first step in a journey with an actual purpose, rather than aimless wandering. Rawi would find a cure for his sister, no matter the risk, and no matter the cost.
When Rawan became too sick to travel, and after a long bout of painful searching, they found a city nursery on the outskirts of the desert’s capital kind enough to take in the strays, in exchange for a steady rent, and any coin Rawi could spare towards her treatments. It was a price Rawi was more than willing to pay in hopes that one day his sister would be able to roam the sands again.
And then, by what ever grace of Gaia, the biomes opened. New worlds of opportunity to find a cure for his sister’s ailment lay on a winding path before him. Thus, Rawi took it, eagerly. Whereever it leads, he follows. As long as it grants him what he seeks. (And well, the money isn’t bad either. There’s always someone looking for a blade... Or a song.)



[ADDITIONAL]
Extra: Rawi very rarely travels with more than he can carry. He is a man of few material possessions, despite the finery he decks when the time calls for it. It’s a performance, and his clothing, while elaborate, is meager in number. No longer is he a part of a caravan, and has not been for quite some time due to the nature of his self imposed quest.

Despite their distance, Rawi and his sister maintain a close and amicable relationship. He writes to her often, and visits every time he wanders back to his native biome.

The sap of the kudu is known for its poison, and his mother’s flower shows itself more prominently in him than his sister. It’s something that he utilizes in his line of work, mostly to cut his blades and small projectile weapons. Though in order to obtain the sap, Rawi must self harm in some way. This can be minor, as a slight incision along a root or stem, to snapping off stems or roots completely, and large gashes. The latter he tries to do as little as possible as it can affect his overall health as well as the health of his plants. And as he tries to gather from a different place each time, his body is littered with blemishes and scars, many of which that fade over time once his plantlife heals.

The sap, when leaking, is a hazard to others, and can make it difficult for him to receive medical attention, or touch, if those tending to him do not take proper protective measures. The sap is only lethal if ingested, or enters the bloodstream.

Rawi is very world wise, though he has never had a formal education. Most of his knowledge comes from the mouths of others, and his stories might as well be truths, for they’re all he knows.

RP methods: Discord and Google Docs are available, and forum based if that ever becomes a reality, also if you need/want to use dA notes; Literate and multi-paragraph preferred, but script and similar short styles are acceptable, especially to move things along at a faster pace.

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WHEEZES There it is. My app for
Here's hoping we make it in!