Class: Cleric [The Forgotten Wind]
Gender: Aruak [They/She]
Appearance: Weathered; the lines of dozens of scars create patches of thin and fading feathers in her otherwise rich almond coat. Her eyes, though, are always smiling. They always make sure to wear a spot of red – currently a scarf around her neck.
Ten years in a labor camp until one day, a prophet rose above and led a (mostly) peaceful uprising. She spoke of the Forgotten Wind, it’s divinity through turmoil, and its guidance for those beset by hardship.
The overseers stepped aside as hundreds of laborers walked from their shifts, led by the prophet. But the slavers would have none of it, and raised their swords. Nahan was among the few who defended the uprising, and without her efforts, the uprising would have failed and most of them would have died.
The Prophet never seemed to forgive her for this, never looked at her the same way.
Weeks later, in the pilgrimage out of the salt mines, the Prophet succumbed to an infection. Nahan took up the mantle of leader and led the rapidly dispersing pilgrimage to finally arrive at a small town on a river.
Now, one year later, Nahan has struck out on her own to understand the teachings of her Prophet – the teachings of the Forgotten Wind.
Protect the Forgotten and Downtrodden
All people suffer. Seek to understand their pain.
All suffering leads to eventual triumph.
Violence should be avoided, but is sometimes necessary.
- I was in those labor camps for ten years eating the same cold, slop refuse for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I’m going to try every dish from every culture I can.
- The first time I met her, she was singing. After she died, I sang for the first time. I’ll show others the joy of song, and discover kinds of music I’d never imagined.