Vaziri Ik-Zhian

"Every adversity, every failure, every heartache carries with it the seed of an equal or greater benefit."

## Physical Description

### Hair

Long, thick strands of cool magma; feels like custard

## History

Born to a Vizier and a Sorceress, Vaziri experienced a lavish upbringing within the palms of Sothis, the regional capital of Osirion. His mother's blood was strong within him, obviously evident in the man's appearance; born an Ifrit in a land of genie-kin is not a strange occurrence, however his ashen skin contradicted the stereotypical dusty red hues of the desert Ifrit.

Vaziri was a trouble maker in his youth. Living within The Palms, the Ifrit's home bordered upon the Rose Quater of Sothis; the seat of illicit and illegal trade of narcotics. In his teenage years, Vaziri would harass traffickers, harrying them with gouts of flame and stone, working in tandem with others to steal their shipments and fence them for their own gain.

It wasn't until his late teenage years where Vaziri's latent control over fire came to be. An oil lamp spilt within his home and as flames licked at his body and smoke choked the air, the reached out to quench the flame with but his touch; his palms setting ablaze. It was with this dominance over fire grew, casting aside the walls of smoke and fire to engulf himself within it. His home remained scorched, turned black with ash but he stood whole, unburnt and unphased.

However, he could not remain at home, as with every fire he passed, the flame uncontrollably bent towards him, threatening to turn anywhere he tread into a firestorm. He took it upon himself to seek out a hidden order of Dwavern monks in the valley of Tar Kuata. A far cry from his prior life of a ruffian and a troublemaker, Vaziri sought to find control over his elemental prowess through meditation and study.

Rather atypical of the Dwavern monks, Vaziri stood a lithe, young man with hair of fire in an order of short, shaven, tan skinned men and women. They too held little understanding of his power, but they did understand control, how to centre oneself, how to focus and maintain a state of peace through physical perfection. Within the year, Vaziri was turned into an embodiment of tranquillity and his body a weapon befitting the fury of the fire within.

## Appearance

Vaziri is a 5 foot 9 inch tall Lavasoul Ifrit with a slender, well defined body. He wears little attire save that which keeps him publicly decent and chooses to adorn himself in ritualistic body-paint. His body is entirely devoid of hair, the hair upon his head only a facsimile of such. It feels hot to the touch, soft and gooey ropes of what could be described as cool magma. His eyes radiate an intensity of fire, with coal-black pupils surrounded by a dimly glowing iris of molten rock. The only shred of jewellery he appears to wear is that of meditation crystals.

## Personality

Vaziri is polite and well mannered upon the surface, however his bluntness has him moving through conversations like a golden hammer to a china plate. He is slow to anger and does not believe in rash action.  He will hold grudges, but not violently act upon them; simply remembering someone's prior slights or missteps. He holds himself to a code of perfection, to succeed in whatever he may attempt, and expects others to strive to be the best they can be in no matter what they attempt. He is a curious soul, always asking questions on the edge of annoyance, but is all too eager to sit and listen to the issues of another and form a solution; even if the solution isn't exactly conducive.

 My favor, once lost, is lost forever. I will forgive, but not forget.
 I always want to know how things work and what makes people tick.
 I'm always polite and respectful, or so I think.

NPC