| At the tender age of five, Kharma El Amin, so named by his father who was a firm believer that you make your own destiny, had his training begin. Kharma's father was a well renowned soldier of fortune working for whoever paid the best. He believed more in discipline than other fathers, and as a direct result, Kharma never got, nor asked for the love he should have recieved. Kharma's training in the killing arts came natural to the boy, who excelled in every aspect. At the age of fourteen, Kharma took his first life. He had been a travelling sage, dispensing wisdom to any and all comers when he came across an older man teaching his son how to perfect his killing style so that someday he might join an orginization capable of utilizing his talents. It was the dark of the night and the sage had been riding on horseback, driving the horse with reckless abandon, so he did not see the old man and his teenage son. The sounds of hooves and the scent of blood filled the air as before Kharma's young eyes, his father was trampled to death without any warning. Scared beyond reason, the sage whipped his horse fiercely and rode off into the night, heading for the next town along the road. Kharma had no words to describe his anguish as he cradled his father's lifeless body in his hands, a stream of tears staining his muddied cheeks. It was the last time the boy would ever cry again. Soon, he found himself making his way towards the town, a small shank in his dirty little hands as the only weapon he could find. Tracking his prey with utter vigilance, he soon found himself at an old tavern, surrounded by drunkards and other various patrons. Overhearing a few conversations, he soon stalked his target up to the second floor, where room and board was offered. Silently, Kharma snuck into the room, tightly gripping his makeshift weapon. The sage stood in front of a mirror, yet cast no reflection upon it's surface. Kharma's eyes widened when he saw this. Surely, this man was not as he appeared. From the darkness, Kharma pounced upon the unsuspecting sage and drove his shank into the spine of the man who had killed his father. The sage let out a resounding scream and began to flail away at the protrusion sticking in his back. Blood poured freely from the gaping wound and Kharma began to worry that the man's screams would surely attract unwanted attention. Kharma began using the training that his father had worked so hard to instill in him. He tripped the murderer and he fell face first to the ground. With one deft motion, Kharma retreieved his psuedo dirk and rolled to the side to begin his attack anew when the sage produced fangs from his mouth, which curled over his lips. In one blinding movement, he was on Kharma, his hand holding the young boy by the throat. Lifting him off of the ground, the man stared deep into Kharma's eyes. "Now, young child. Now, you die." Before the sentance could be carried out, however, Kharma slashed across the mans throat with his weapon and that caused him to let go and drop the boy to the floor. All he could make were gurgling sounds as he gasped for the words to scream. Quickly, Kharma grabbed a torch that had been hanging on the wall, and brought flame to the sages clothing. The fire rose rapidly and the man thrashed about in a vain attempt to extinguish the flames that rapidly engulfed his body in molten death. Soon, he slumped to the ground, lifeless. Kharma, still not sure how to react to killing a man for the first time, dropped his shank and fled out a window, breaking his fall on a couple of unlucky passerbys. Speeding off into the darkness of the night, Kharma felt an adrenaline rush unlike any other he'd ever had before. Soon, when he was sure he had not been followed, he made his way to a stream and rested himself against a large old tree. It wasn't long before the rush faded and soon, he was drifting into the realm of unconsciousness again. When he woke, it was later that evening, and a man was kneeling at the riverside, gathering water for something. Kharma sprang to his feet and reached for a weapon he no longer had. "Do not worry, I'm not going to hurt you." The stranger said, his voice having a certain sense of authority to it. "Who are you?" Kharma sputtered, not sure what to make of all this. "My name is not important. What is is your training. Do you wish to finish the journey your father started you on?" "What do you know of my father? Why....." "I ask again. Do you wish to finish?" The man's voice was more forceful this time. "Yes.....I guess. Yes, I want to finish my training." Kharma felt more at ease in the man's company. "Very good. Tomorrow night, another man will come to you and he will continue where your father left off. In six years I shall return to see how you have progressed." With that, the man turned and walked away silently into the forest shadows. Kharma felt a slight sense of unease, but let it pass with the coming dawn. The next night, a man came and did just as the stranger said he would. For the next six years, he trained Kharma vigilantly and without letup. Kharma became one of the most feared assassins in all of the realms. As his skills got more advanced, so too did his devotion. One nightfall, the stranger returned to find a boy no longer. Now, Kharma was twenty and at his peak. The man told Kharma of many things that night, including that he had watched Kharma kill the sage. He told Kharma how the sage had been a vampire, a vampire that the stranger himself had sworn to kill. He asked Kharma if he would like to devote his life to the hunting and destruction of other vampires. Kharma didn't know what to say. Were there really more men out there like the sage? And if so, had other families been torn apart by them the way Kharma's had? Kharma swore that day that he would avenge his father's murder on every scourge who dared to walk the line of the living dead. It was then that the man told him his name was Rhael, and he too shared in Kharma's beliefs. He introduced Kharma to a code of honor called the Khabar, and told him how he would be honored to have such a man as Kharma join him as a Child of Haqim. Before Kharma could let it all sink in, Rhael showed his fangs and Kharma was drowned in a wave of extacy unlike any before. Soon, Kharma rose to his feet and found that he too was now like Rhael. A vampire with potent blood coursing through his veins. Soon, Rhael trained Kharma in the arts of using the blood as a weapon against common foes. Before long, Kharma's devotion to the Khabar and to his brother Rhael helped him rise through the political ranks to be named Caliph, or "one who follows" of the clan. One day, Rhael disappeared without a trace and when he finally returned, he had no memory of his life before. Saddened by this, Kharma took Rhael back into the brotherhood by embracing him, the way he himself had been embraced. Now, Kharma still retains his position as Caliph, and standing member of the Du'at with his brothers Rhael, Golan, and under the tutalage and guidance of Kezia, the Old Man of the Mountain. Together, they rule the Children of Haqim from the mountain of Alamut and strive to bring about prosperity to the clan through the destruction of their enemies. With the disappearence of Golan, The Vizier of Alamut, Kezia turned to Kharma, her trusted brother, and asked him to fulfill the need for a Vizier. Although, trained as Caliph, Kharma's diplomatic skills were also quite good, and as Kharma lives and dies by the Khabar, he went into this new task with an open mind, thinking only of the good of the Children of Haqim. |
 |
| Kharma El Amin, Silsila of Alamut |
 |
|