Name: Khalik-i-Sabbah
Country Affiliation: Wanderer
Race: Human
Tier: D-Tier
Class: Assassin
Age + Birthdate: 19 + December 25th
Gender: Male
Sexuality: Somewhere
Personality: As an assassin one would suppose Khalik to be cold, calculated, and quite callous. In truth though, there is no one more fun-loving and laid-back as him. This may make him sound like a fool, and to an extent this would be true. He certainly slacks off from work and he’s been neglecting his family’s tradition for 6 years now. However, he is an intrepid soul that is neither bound to pride or shame in his acts, but only to legitimacy of the statement: “He is free.” Khalik’s harbor an immense feeling of individuality, and his thirst to prove that he is no slave to any being, emotion, and/or concept has lead him down a lonely road; one which he has been following for six years. He is not interested in following a group (though he may cooperate) or becoming a subservient henchman to a higher power, and those who attempt to cull him into being such will be in for a rude awakening. Though he may not seem like that type, the young assassin can be incredibly sadistic and has a good memory for those who have wronged him. In addition, Khalik is a crafty sneak who utilizes tricks and other covert tactics to meet his end of being amused. He will not simply pick a fight, but he’ll trick two good friends into a brutal brawl while he doubles-over in the wing from laughter.
Likes:
Covert Ops- Ghostly silhouettes, deft hands, and a flickering tongue --all necessities of one’s duty as an assassin, and all skills honed by the I-sabbah family. However, Khalik’s use of these skills is not strictly for business. In fact, the thrill of acting beyond the rules of the law for a good chuckle is quite intoxicating, and so he commits to activities which blur the lines of law and crime, frankly, too often.
Nighttime- The night is a wonderful time, it is the time were the imagination is best set free. Let the errant beauty of moon’s rays caress your deepest fears and thrills, so that we may better come to the passing of splendors.
Movement- The most literal and physical definition of freedom is the capacity to move. In this case, things such as flight, teleportation, and the hardest of parkourests are matters which he’ll get increasingly worked up on.
Dislikes:
Rules & Tradition: Is there much to say on the matter? Khalik is rebellious, whimsical, and passionate to whatever he applies his efforts to. So speaking of things which only serve to restrict those efforts will be discredited and ignored if not rightfully blown apart with a scathing retort.
Slavery: The act of imposing one’s will on another is a repulsive act. Even so, Khalik has no plan to abolish slavery that idea is a bit too righteous for him, but assassinating one or two slave masters on his own accord will be enough to satisfy. However, his tolerance for slavery is equal to the freedom bestowed upon the subject. The more freedoms granted to a slave the more lenient Khalik is.
Magician: One would never suppose that the carefree Assassin had a meek side like that of a frightened kitten, but even a fool can subvert expectations. Yes, the outlandish, thrill-seeking Khalik is put in his place by magicians. Just the very mention of a magician will cause him to jet out the room and to the next country over. This peculiar behavior by, an albeit, peculiar boy originates from a family legend that has been passed down since the second generation’s Hassan-I-sabbah. The legend goes that during the days of the second, he was hired to perform a hit on a family of nobles in Heliohapt. The nobles in question were a corrupt bunch who extorted slaves and debtors of theirs to pursue experimental magics. During the night of the assassination, something went terribly wrong. Someone had tipped off the noble’s to the second’s arrival in the area, and so an easy kill became a scrap for the right to live. In the end though, the second succeeded in his mission but the scars of the battle would be passed down from generation to generation. The curse of Hassan-I-sabbah which begun with the second will guarantee that the successive generation will die at the age of 34 without fail except if they meet their ends through combat. It was placed upon them by the magician nobles of Heliohapt with their dying breath drenched with bitter hate. Now legends are simply myths, so calling this a legend would be a misdeed as the truth of the matter is reality. Ever since the second Hassan-i-Sabbah passed away at age 34, every generation after has continued to meet untimely, inexplicable deaths at the same age.
Aspirations: Freedom- It is not hard to see the appeal of freedom, the capacity to make one’s own decision and the power to see those decisions through. However, Khalik is not just some sheep bleating the preaching of a shepherd; no, what he aspires for is a full, unequivocal freedom. Freedom from bondage, freedom from nations, and freedom from fate in which all things are said to be bound until time’s end. His first step to achieving such a goal his to break the curse which is said to linger around the heads of the Hassan-i-Sabbah.
Perfecting his Killing Art- Each Hassan, save for the first, have acquiesce what is now referred to as the Killing Art: a specialized form of assassination which resonates so deeply within the Hassan’s core that it becomes an extension of their very existence. Quite literally as well, since the Killing Art differentiates each generation of Hassan from one another. For example, the third Hassan-i-Sabbah is known as the Whistling Hassan due to his Killing Art revolving around sniping from long distances. There is no streamlined process for creating a Killing Art, for it is something discovered and honed not taught from one to another. Though he may have broken from tradition, the idea of perfecting his own style was one thing Khalik aspired for. After all, he is a Hassan like no one before him. So, for now, he’ll keep killing till that special something begins to resonate within himself.
Phobias/fears:Destiny- For one who desires an existence untethered by any and all bondage, whether it be social, material, or metaphysical, the notion that all choices are predetermined is simply mind-numbingly suicidal. If life has been pre-supposed by higher powers than the very existence of autonomy and self-government is nothing, it would be a sham, perhaps the greatest in human history. Khalik could not even begin to comprehend the infatuation of following destiny, and the thought that his actions were not his own will drive him insane.
Face-Claim: Okada Izou- Fate Grand Order
Hair Color: Black
Eye Color:Red
Height: 176.78 cm (5’8” feet)
Weight: 52.16 kg (115 lbs)
Appearance: Khalik is a moderately proportioned youth with a slim build. Despite being born in Baalbad his skin is fair due to his lifestyle and attire. Khalik is outfitted in a ragged linen cloak which conceals his entire upper body save for his face. The robe itself is comes equipped with pointed hood and sleeves, and its lightly woven material makes it easy to discard when needed. Beneath it, a sleeveless black shirt with a deep v-cut loosely hang from his torso a deep crimson embroidery around the edges of his garment. A pair of pure black sirwal his worn to compliment his wardrobe. Around each limb a black wrap stretches from the closet quarter of his forelimb to halfway up his extremities. An ivory mask shaped like a skull, an I-sabbah family tradition to wear during an assassination, is carried on his person -- out of sight beneath his cloak.
Khalik carries himself like any commoner, not too uptight but not too slouch, as to appear unassuming to those around him. He smiles often even to those he doesn’t know, and when he speaks he does so with a slacking mannerism even to a noble of the land. He’s not one to hide his emotions instead showcasing them in full except if doing so reveals his motive. In which case, these emotions are displayed with tidbits of lies, usually exaggerations, to obscure his objective.
Rukh Alignment: Black
Special Features: History: Rumors speak of a clandestine family of assassin who once operated during the ruthless era of Balbadd’s monarchy. In a time of oppression and decay, the monarchy was motivated by greed and self-interest to amass their luxuries on the backs of their subjects. For one man these errant rulers proved to be too much for his tolerance of civil obedience, and so he combated these hot-blooded atrocities with cold-blooded evil. This man resolved himself to not just take a life, but to take the lives of countless of men. To hunt men who have turned their back on their fellow man, those who have strayed from proper and rights, this man vowed to slay them all. It was this man who became Hassan-i-Sabbah, the progenitor of the I-Sabbah family, a clan of virtuoso assassins set to alleviate the world from the grasp of tyrants and abusers. That was until Balbadd’s historic reformation from monarchy to democracy.
During this rebirth of a country, a young fledgling of 13 who bared the name of Khalik-i-sabbah was passed the torch from his late father of Hassan. Though his training was left incomplete, he was hardly unworthy of title -- at least in terms of skill. However, the corruption of Balbadd’s upper echelons had been mostly purged, and the need for a Hassan-i-Sabbah was rendered unnecessary in the region. Though countries around the world still writhed from the abuse of power, Khalik decided to shirk from his role as the fifth generation’s Hassan-i-sabbah. Instead he became a simple assassin for hire. He took on many small jobs to make ends meet, and when they failed to he forced the issue to resolve with a deft hand in the market.
Truthfully, Khalik had no wish to play the same role of his predecessors; he had wished to forge his own niche upon earth’s face -- to choose such a purpose -- not to have it handed to him by faceless phantoms. To do so, he broke from i-sabbah tradition and killed, not to rid the world of villains or uphold a moral code, but for the sake of ascertaining his own freedom. To this end he wanders to wherever a no-good killer is needed.
Role-Play Sample:Water, the necessity of life. Without it the living would shrivel up like raisins in the sun and die; especially here within the island cities of Balbadd where the water surrounding is unfit for consumption.
Khalik was making his way through the street, his cloak rising from his quicken steps to the market which was only beginning to fill. The sun’s golden rays peered over the horizon gracing a humble little stand with a little aura of color. Jugs of all shapes and sizes laid neatly ordered behind the stand, and a roundish man thumbed his curling mustache. A crudely-made plank sign posted above him read “Gaza’s Waterhole.” The color was in black and the font was sloppy.
A variety of women, children, and men formed into a single-file line as they waited to purchase their fresh water for the day. Khalik cursed under his breath as he took his place in the back of the congregation.
Time moved slowly with the passing of minutes followed by the shuffling of feet to indicate the minuet progress everyone was a making. The sun stretched itself out of its groggy start in sync. For every step forward, the sun would rise ever so slightly until it lit every corner of the market.
Still, the line seemed to have no end in sight. How long had they waited here? An hour? Maybe two? Khalik was still placed behind twenty-two other thirsty folks. Here could be here all day at this rate.
“If only Gaza hadn’t ran a monopoly on u-“ Khalik interrupted his own thoughts. A mischievous twinkle grew in his eyes as his epiphany broke through the stagnant boredom of Gaza’s Waterhole. “I got it.”
It was seamless really, all he had to do is feign a light but extensive coughing fit. Using his arm to cover his mouth, he could then put on a ventriloquist act for the customers here.
“Water! Water! Get your water down at the Harbor!” Khalik pretended. “Nile’s Wet Wiles is opened and ready for business down at the Harbor! And as a sign of good faith, we are selling water at the gallon for 5 huang! Half the price of our competitor! So come to the Harbor today and get your water!”
At first people weren’t too sure, about leaving their post, but as the falsified salesmen continued to speak the more people wanted to believe in the lie. A great migration took place like a flock of birds leaving for winter. The market was quickly whittled down to eight people, and Khalik was next in line.
He stepped up to the stand with a huge grin to the chagrin of the merchant. “Di-did you have some-“ the merchant was cut off with the crashing of huangs on the counter. “Four jugs of water Gaza,” he ordered innocently.” Gaza scowled him with an enmity so intense that the aura was palpable. Nonetheless, Khalik continued to smile innocently, his composure unwavering.
This staring contest went off for a minute before Gaza sighed in defeat, “Oh fine.” He rounded up the cash and stored it inside a bloated purse. After drawing the string taut, he tossed the purse in a drawer behind the stand with an assortment of different colored purses; each one was stuffed to the brim.
Gaza pushed five jugs over the counter to Khalik. A hemp string was tied between two in pairs. As Khalik hung each one from his shoulder his back to the merchant, and with a wave bid him farewell.
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