Mikhal Saber Khaladi

Stats:

* Height 6'
* Weight: 170
* Age: 27
* Ethnicity: Kelishite
* Appearance: Tall, athletically built, with the brown skin and black hair typical of the Keleshite people. While most of his countrymen nurture full beards, Mikhal has opted for a more streamline look he feels better accentuates his face. Even when he's not at sea or among the sands of his homeland he's taken to framing his amber eyes with khol. While he may no longer count himself as a noble of Qadir he still displays high-born sensibilities in the way he dresses and carries himself. He wears clothing practical for life at sea while favoring the patterned cloth popular in his homeland. He's trying to adopt a more Chelish way of dressing to fit in since deciding to stay in Kintargo.

Mikhaleh Amirbanu
Saber Khaladi al-Parishat is a Keleshite hailing from Qadir, a son to
one of the numerous branches of the Imperial family. He was born
alongside his sister, Mishanae, a set of fraternal twins. The pair
were best friends and nearly inseparable growing up. They were both
treated to similar educations and activities such as riding and
swordplay, but as the two approached adulthood it became clear to
Mikhal that he couldn’t follow Mishanae forever; her paths began to
branch out, while he faced inevitability. Her place as a woman was the eventual
head of the family and whatever she wanted was hers. His lot was to work for his own notoriety, wealth, and a future in a
different noble house.

 At age 16 he
expressed an interest in seeing the world beyond Qadir. His parents
obliged, expecting he’d be back once his purse ran low, curiosity
sated, ready to start building a name for himself in pursuit of
favorable marriage. His sister knew him better, and would not see him
go without a promise to keep in touch and two gifts to protect him on
his journeys: Her favorite silk scarf, and her rose-gold amulet of
Sarenrae.

 In the end, his
travels did help to sate his curiosity, but it also began to wear
away at his limited view of the world and the people in it. Having
grown up in a family that owned slaves but treated them fairly, the
widespread cruelty he saw elsewhere opened his eyes and apathy was
replaced with disgust. Exposure to cultures not his own and the
interesting and good people they produced inspired respect in place
of the feelings of superiority nurtured by his upbringing. Rather
than head home once his gold ran out, Mikhal turned to working on
merchant ships as a way to make a living and still travel as desired.
Running with a favorable Captain and crew, he eventually picked up a
hobby of helping smuggle slaves out of various cities in Cheliax when
it proved safe to do so.

It was the day
after The Night of Ash that Mikhal’s ship landed in Kintargo, one
of its regular stops. Mikhal couldn’t quite place the strange
atmosphere that now sat heavy in the streets even when he came upon
the burnt down shop that housed the shrine to Sarenrae, but instinct
had him walk by it without much of a fuss. Suspicious, he headed
toward Old Kintargo, and it was there that the uneasiness that was
plaguing him blossomed into fear and dread. Heads on pikes, a few he
recognized. Friends dead or missing, even familiar looking faces among the towns-guard were now hard to find. He got off the streets as quickly as he could and
hunkered down in a tavern he trusted, listening to the hushed
conversations of the other patrons and having a few of his own until
he was certain of one thing. Staying was dangerous.

 He was almost back
to the docks when he was stopped by the dottari for wearing
proscribed clothing: The blue embroidered scarf his sister gifted
him, worn as a sash underneath the protection of much more modest
cloth, had fluttered loose to show off its fine edging. Perhaps his
silver tongue saved him from worse, but it didn’t stop them from
fining him and confiscating his sister’s scarf. Fearing they’d
find his pendant- or worse, peg him in connection to the Bellflowers,
Mikhal swallowed his anger. By the time he was back to his ship he
had had time to think and his fear and anger gave way to
determination. His run in with the dottari and the loss of his
faithful sister’s scarf? It was a sign. He shamefully turned his
back on a destroyed Sarenite shrine and the murders of good people. A
city in need. Mikhal packed his bag, informed his Captain and crew
mates, and walked back into Kintargo with a purpose.

 He’s staying with
a recent and like-minded friend in Kintargo when he hears a member of
the Silver Ravens will be attending an upcoming protest. If he has
any chance of setting things right, this could be it.