"Putting me on the spot here, eh? Well I've got nothing to say, so haha!--jokes on you I guess. "
Name:
Roshaan Qaisrani
Nickname:
Rosh/Roshie, mostly by his elder sister, other than that he's been called a few variations of Shaan/Rosh and a multitude of racial slurs he'd rather not dwell on.
Role:
The Civilian
Age:
Eighteen
Gender:
Male
Romantic Interest(s):
When he was much younger, about eight to ten or so, he'd had the most massive crush on one of his instructors, Minhra. The woman was considerably older than him so there'd hardly been a chance for him at all, but he'd believed it to be love at the time. His infatuation was short lived though, and for the next eight years of his life at least, his only viable romantic interest became his fiance, and with his brother's death Nuru--his sister-in-law became the new "romantic interest" thrust upon him. For perhaps obvious reasons, he's not all too fond of the whole "romance" concept in general.
Sexuality:
Pansexual, though he'd never quite thought about it, the only option for most of his life were women for the sake of his species continuation. Now that he's pretty much screwed over any chances of that happening, he's starting to become increasingly more aware of the allure of the male form as well.
" You have no idea how difficult it is to fit a Keffiyeh over those horns, trust me, it's a damn feat."
Height:
6'5"
Weight:
185 lbs
Hair:
Roshaan's hair is a vibrant burgundy in coloration and distinctly red regardless of lighting. It's cropped relatively short, with a side-swept fringe draped right above his right eye and stray strands left to haphazardly frame his face. There's a noticeable break in his hairline right where his horns protrude, to the best of his abilities he takes the time to try and hide this part behind both his bang and whatever Keffiyeh he's wearing at the time.
Eyes:
Definitely the most prominent feature of Roshaan's eyes are their utter and complete lack of any "white" to the eye, his sclera is instead a stark black in contrast. His iris is visibly crimson and larger than the average humans, filling a considerable portion of his eye. Like most bovidae, his pupils are horizontally wider than tall and larger than most other species'.
Description:
More often than not Roshaan defaults to a somewhat slouched position, his head and shoulders hunched low so as to allow his horns into smaller buildings or other similar obstacles. It gives him an appearance of being much shorter than he really is, though both his horns added height and his sheer stature still make him tower over most. His build is gangly, devoid of most any fat stores in the slightest. As it stands he's a tad emaciated actually, beneath his billowing robes he's rather little more than skin and bone--much of his muscle mass lost the same as well.
It's not immediately obvious beneath his spacious shalwar and the sea of robe folds, but from about his pelvis downward Roshaan has the typical leg structure of a bovid, down to the split-toed, cloven hooves and a slight scut tail. His ears are large, pointed and lightly cupped, extending outwards on both side of his head and fully capable of moving independently of each other. Though most of his body resembles a sienna in tone, he's covered in various off-creme/white markings along his inner forearms & hands, sections of his chest, the insides of his legs, the tips of his ears, around the rims of his eyes and two symmetrical dots on his cheeks. His horns are sheathed in a thin layer of keratin with a greyed brown tinting about it and extend back along his forehead in a spiraled formation.
Preferred Clothing:
Much of his wardrobe has been determined less by choice and more by circumstance, but he tends to wear the same formal robes and matching Shalwar kameez he'd been intended to marry in. The fabric is surprisingly high quality, a finery he was meant to wear once and keep for a lifetime; now it's worn thin and what was once lightly gold pleated now appears a dulled brown, though retains a faint glimmer of its once illustrious visage if caught in the right light. He almost always wear the matching golden-tinted Keffiyeh while outside, the garment tailored to fit around both his horns and ears comfortably. His entire apparel has a rather dark color scheme, almost black, with trimmings of gold, especially prominent on the break between Kameez and the shirt beneath.
" "I'd like to think I'm hilarious personally, though that might be up for individual discretion--I'm still totally hilarious though.""
Personality:
Never having been one for many words, Roshaan has a reputation of being rather curt and sharp-tongued with what little he says. It's rarely that he actually intends ill, those he is a tad of a judgmental prick at times and quick to make assumptions, but rather just how he speaks. In his mind, it's nothing personal and he wouldn't take what he says as an insult were someone else to say it to him, it's just how most Rojhian dialect is structured, brusque and direct. To soften one's words or say what one does not truly feel is an insult within their customs, considered an act of selfishness done for one's own behalf. To withhold information weakens the tribe, weakens one's own resolve, and Roshaan has always held strongly to this belief. By no means does this mean he's humorless, far from it in fact. Roshaan enjoys nothing more than a good jab at another's expanse and is always receptive to the cheesiest of puns, play-on-words, and riddles alike.
He'd personally consider himself a jovial lad, good natured and readily accepting of others, but there's a definite divide between his own perception and how he actually presents himself to others. It's difficult to make a case that the either always smirking or scowling roaming youth that's quick to jump on any mistake one makes for the sake of a laugh is "good natured and accepting" jovial, perhaps, the other tw--not so much. But, again, he considers himself a kind, soft-spoken individual and his jokes are, again, never made with the intention of being cruel. The man hardly has a cruel bone in his body truth be told and his guilt is practically a metaphysical thing that would devour him alive if he ever truly thought himself cruel. In this way, he's quite lucky no one's addressed his manner of speaking yet, he's hardly conscious in the slightest of how rude his words could be taken as.
Having spent most of his life crammed into yurts less than ten feet wide with over eight people, boundaries and personal space have always been a concept sorely lacking in Roshaan's mind. He's touchy feely to the point of it being a tad unnerving to most, especially more conservative individuals. It's never sexual in nature, though his touch borders on being intimate at times, it's quite seriously just that there's no taboos against touching within his culture; it wasn't perceived as sexual so they never quite associated a stigma with it. That's not to say that he hasn't been slapped and reprimanded for his lingering touch before and he's a tad more aware of how it's perceived by the rest of society now, after such aforementioned event. Still, being aware hardly stops him from draping himself across friends and acquaintances alike, it just makes it a tad less awkward and he avoids what he now knows as "erogenous zones" as best he can.
Stories and gossip have always been of great interest to him and he's quite nosey about such affairs regardless of whether or not it involves him. Sometimes it might prove lucrative to eavesdrop on another, but most of the time he's just bored and so removed from society in his little ghetto squalor that the distraction proves irresistible. Having ears the size of dinner plates quite helps in this regard as well, it's difficult to ever tell if he's really ever eavesdropping unless one's familiar with the intricacies of Rojhian ear movement and what emotions they correspond to. It's half the reason he doubles as an informant on occasion, the best spies are those who don't even have to be in the area to overhear everything. When the few occasional customers come wandering along too, he's quick to lead any small talk away from himself and back to the other party, he's undoubtedly more a listener than a talker and he's quite attentive when he listens. As in, an eerily exact memory for words and events, up to a ridiculously far removed point in time. One can't help but wonder if he has nothing better to do and the answer is yes, he doesn't.
While he's perfectly willing to verbally confront others and he's quite defensive of any slight he perceives done to his friends or family, the moment things move to actual fists and blows Roshaan seems to be mysteriously missing from the fray. He's cowardly beyond belief and not in the least against ditching his friends should conflict arise, self-preservation at any cost, even if that damnable "guilt" thing won't leave him alone afterwards. Still, 'tis better to be alive and regretting one's actions than dead in a ditch somewhere 'cause one felt noble. Suffice to say, if he comes back for you after fleeing, especially if there's still danger present, it's quite the compliment, even more so if he stays by your side the entire time--he damn well loves that individual.
Despite his rather unpleasant reputation and harsh words, he's a fairly friendly individual beneath it all. I's near impossible to genuinely piss him off enough that he'd consider anyone an enemy, and even just disliking people in general is quite foreign to him. Sure, he might pick out certain flaws in their appearance or personality, but one is just his inner critic coming full circle--he was quite the seamstress in his day after all, and ugly garbs are a horror like no other to him--and the other he recognizes is an always morphing concept, everyone can and will change in time so there's hardly a reason to fault most for their demeanor until it directly effects him. His home--as meager and downtrodden as it might be--is always open to those less fortunate than himself and he's more than willing to share what little stipend he receives with those who truly need it. After all, if it wasn't for the same kindness from others he probably wouldn't be alive to this day, and those willing to offer hospitality to others are akin to almost saints in his mind.
Oddities:
Roshaan's diet includes a variety of toxic flora and fungi, as well as relying on a ruminant stomach--dinner time is always a bit of an awkward affair with monogastrics as a result, what with the whole cud affair.
*The Desert
*Sudden abrupt movements
*Unnecessarily loud sounds
*Physical Conflict
*Opaque bodies of water
*Hunters/Trappers/Poachers
*Meat, and to a lesser degree dairy products
*Superstition
*The Sun/Daylight
*Predators/Venomous Creatures
*Xenophobes
*In-hospitality/cruelty
*Inconsistent housing
*Arranged Marriages
* Grasslands/Forested Areas
*Vibrant colors
*The Strange & Unusual
*Vegetarian dishes(rare as they are)
* Late Evening/Twilight
*Stories/Gossip/Intimate Details
*Polymorphism
*Peace & Quiet
*Actually having money
*Hospitality
*Food & Shelter
*Treasure & Wealth
*Freedom
*Wit/Knowledge
*Fine Clothes/Fabrics
Fears:
Bodies of Opaque Water: One learns very, very quickly while out in the plains and grasslands that anything you can't see through isn't worth it. There is a 10/10 chance in Roshaan's mind the moment you approach that murky, oh so tempting water, a serpent, crocodile, or a mix of both while propel itself from the water to engulf you. Like he's seen happen so many times before. Okay, maybe just once or twice, but you never forget that experience.
Slavery/Mutilation: While it's much more common among lone Rojhian to be abducted and sold into slavery, all Rojhian have at least been told the stories of what fates await them if they're caught. By far the worst of it is the prospect of having one's horns' cropped or knubbed. While it might seem innocuous enough to other species, to have one's horns damaged in any way is the ultimate shame to a Rojhian and in itself an excruciating process. The pain doesn't come from any nerve damage, as Rojhian horns actually are designed to split from the skull without much damage, but from the dulling of their senses and the physical out-flux of Rukh that happens immediately after the break. Essentially, to have one's horns taken from them is equivalent to a fate worse than death for Rojhian.
His Family(or more specifically their disappointment): Roshaan's entire life had been essentially dedicated to his family and his tribe before he fled and now that he's gone his most common fear is how would they react if he ever met them again, or tried to return home, and every time he ends up in the same pit of despair and self loathing as the last time, fearing the next day more than ever.
"Fear the might of Roshaan, able to leap fences in a single bound and probably likely to get his horns stuck if he ever tried to fight! Fearsome indeed... "
Skills:
Sewing/embroidering/knitting: You need a robe fitted and cut? A hat tailored for around those pesky horns? Roshaan has essentially a lifetime's experience with all of the above and if given the proper utensils is always happy to go about work on a new piece.
Foraging: It's quite a feat to identify and gather the variety of toxic flora Roshaan ingests on a daily basis, but he's most certainly quite skilled at it by this point in time, even if that doesn't do much for anyone else, what with the whole "indigestible, poisionous plant"-thing his food of choice has with other people.
Eavesdropping: With a radius of hearing that extends over a 100 meters in diameter, it's a wonder Roshaan is able to even hear himself think over the constant buzz of activity around him. Rather than be deafened by the sea of noise, he's learned to pinpoint individual voices in the crowd, attributing them easily to locations and distance based on sound alone and normally able to distinguish individual words and phrases, though it depends on the amount of surrounding white noise.
Weaknesses:
Skittish/Cowardly: When one's basic instinct in most any situation is to immediately flee for their life, one might likewise find themselves with a horrible reputation of being a spineless good-for-nothing-coward, as Roshaan has. He's most certainly not above ditching acquaintances and friends alike should he feel threatened, though the guilt may ebb at him over time. It wouldn't be unprecedented for him to return--it's just quite a compliment if he did.
Rude/Curt: Even if he really doesn't intend it that much, it still stands that most anything Roshaan says will have him looking like a giant asshat and he's mostly unwilling to change in the slightest. Miscommunication runs rampant around him and that seems not to be going anywhere in the near future.
Emotionally Unavailable/Distanced: So while he's certainly not an unfeeling automaton, it's quite difficult to get any reaction stronger that slight amusement, curiosity, or anger out of the boy, even when one might be pouring their heart out to him. It's not so much that he lacks empathy, so much as he had no idea what people expect his response to be and instinctually it's nothing.
Powers:
None Available
Abilities:
Speed that reaches upwards of 60 Kilometers per hour thanks to his well developed hind legs coupled with some degree of agility while in motion.
Inherent weapons in the form of both his horns, sharpened to the point of being able to gore someone with a small degree of force, and his hind legs yet again, able of mustering up to about a ton of force per square inch with a single kick.
Dowsing via his slightly hollowed horns, most Rojhian are capable of identifying underground streams and waterways with some degree of accuracy by following the "pull" of water stores on their bodies' Rukh through a specalized region of their horns, it's a difficult sensation to explain to humans, but a feeling that's instinctually recognizable to any Rojhians.
Weapon(s):
The closest things to weaponry in Roshaan's possessions are his horns and the brass bangles kept stored beneath his robes sleeves, spaced closely enough as to be capable of functioning as a gauntlet of sorts.
Fighting Style:
While definitely not a fighter in the slightest, if worse came down to worst, Roshaan relies primarily on evasive movements and blocks, rarely being the type to strike. If he did, it'd most probably be a square kick to any vital region or via goring an opponent with his horns.
"I hope they're not still too cross with me, I really should have said something...eh, bother, too late to change it now anyways--to future possibilities and what not. "
Family:
Tahir Qaisrani: A stoic man if nothing else, Roshaan's father had always been patient in his dealings with his children. Neither Roshaan nor Benazir could honestly recall a single time he'd raised his voice or brought hand to him--not that their mother had either--but it seemed unusual amongst other's for fathers to be as gentle as theirs had been. He's nothing if not doting on his family, his wife especially, and what little time he managed to spend with his family often ended with him hugging the ever living crap out of his son and daughter. His role within his tribe is most equivalent to a foreman of sorts, he oversees multiple argricultural facets and assists with the apprenticeship of Rojhians coming of age.
Iusya Qaisrani née Nabiyeva: Impish in her own way, Roshaan's mother had been the one to impart his devilish sense of humor onto the lad. She'd been charged as a nursemaid and midwife since about her tenth year of age--at least thirty or so years ago--and had as such overseen and raised almost anyone with Roshaan's age group without exception. She's regarded quite fondly by the youth of her tribe and though she originally hails from the Western tribe of Nabiyeva, most any Qaisrani without exception would identify her as one of them. She's a tad teasing in most everything she does, especially daily interactions with her family, though rest assured she adores them more than anything else.
Ismat Qaisrani(deceased): The first child of Iusya and Tahir, Benazir's fraternal twin, and Roshaan's older brother. Roshaan can hardly even recall his face from memory, though recalls the boy fondly when he tries to think back on him. Before his death, he'd been the kinder of Roshaan's siblings, Ismat always the gentle and comforting one while Benazir took unusual delight in tormenting the young boys. Technically, his body had never been recovered and he was only presumed dead after a foraging party encountered hostilities, but the last anyone had seen of him he'd been locked in combat with another and suffering from what appeared fatal blows. Any mention of his name is a sure way to sour the mood amongst Roshaan's family, a heavy hit to them still after all these years.
Benazir Zuleikha née Qaisrani: Mischievous and occasionally a tad bit of a brute, Benazir had always been an oddly imposing figure from youth. She'd towered over all the other children in her age range from the moment she'd been born essentially and the power had most certainly gone to her head in youth. Whenever the Bahba's attention strayed, she was the one to steal the toys and smack the other children around to do her bidding, her brother especially. As she grew, her aggression and strength grew alongside her and it was with little surprise that she was singled into the closest thing to a militia force the Rojhian could offer. News of Ismat's death hit her hard however and much of her passion seemed to die away with him, she toned down considerably and her enitre demeanor changed. While she could still certainly beat the ever living shit of someone should need be, her aggression in general seemed to die down and she suddenly began to dote on the only sibling she had left. She's currently twenty-eight years of age and happily married to Zaareh.
Zaareh Zuleikha: Nuru's twin brother and a rather meek, weak-willed man in comparison to his wife. Still, he's quite enamored with Benazir despite what other's might think of their relationship and he speaks nothing but praise of the girl, as she does him. The two have been trying for a baby from essentially the moment they were betrothed, though Nuru's situation has made them temporarily stall such efforts.
Nuru Qaisrani née Zuleikha: Possibly the sweetest woman to ever have graced the Qaisrani tribe, if pressed Roshaan could hardly come up with a single ill thing to say about the woman. Perhaps a bit soft by most standards and too willing to please by Rojhian standards, but a sweet heart none-the-less. Even if he did care for the woman as family, Nuru had always been akin to a sister in Roshaan's mind and though he felt like the worst kind of scum for leaving her, the prospect of marrying her was too strange and just wrong for him to go through with it. In theory, she's had her baby since last Roshaan's seen her, though he often worries of complications in childbirth.
History:
Much of Roshaan's early child rearing was charged to the Bahbas of his tribe--the general term for anyone considered unfit for more rigorous labor--along with all the other children between the ages of about two to five years of age. In a way it served as a communal daycare for the otherwise over tasked parents providing for children and elderly alike, custody being returned to the parent after their respective responsibilities were finished. Still, it stands that most of the day to day interactions a Rojhian child would have was not with his own parents or even necessarily family, but instead with the Bahbas. In this way, there often was some discrepancies between the attitudes of individual generations in Rojhians, influenced by the particular Bahbas each had been tasked under and often times wildly different from their own immediate families outlooks.
From what he remembered of his time under the Bahbas care, his particular set of Bahba's had been comprised of a staunch, crotchety infirmed youth; a gentle, if somewhat taciturn crippled woman, and a coddling, doting grandfatherly figure. Roshaan was juggled between them all, paired and swapped with others in his age group into easily managed groups, exposed daily to a multitude of faces and outlooks that his impressionable mind was eager to absorb. If one were to try and pinpoint the origin of his persona, or any one particular influence on his life it'd prove a near impossible task, he's essentially an accumulation of everyone he's ever met. Both the good and the bad he'd inadvertently picked up from his Bahbas, already a tad bit of a pessimistic grouch by the time he'd moved from childhood to responsibility--at eight.
As is customary in Rojhian culture, Roshaan was allowed an apprenticeship in all the major facets of his society after his periods with the Bahbas: upholstery, agriculture, embroidery, foraging, weaving, whatever needed to be done, could be done, he had his hand at, at least once. After many a year of trial and error determining what it was he could reasonably pursue and what skills he had not an smidgen of chance with, Roshaan settled into the position of a seamstress amongst his people, with the occasional overlapping of a foraging employment much to his displeasure. His first time out foraging had been the moment from which he'd hated the practice, a Draidth serpent having struck and killed Janhir, the other apprentice on the job with him. The other boy hadn't been more than a few paces in front of him at the time and with his passing before Roshaan's eyes, something clicked within the boy. He realized for the first time the cruelties of his world. From that point on, each progressive foray into the grasslands or forest brush would seem to reveal some new hazard to the boy and corrupted his perception of the world in general. It was the first year that the annual migration brought Roshaan worry as well, where he feared for the frail Bahbas sake as they trekked the desert expanse and no longer trusted the sanctuary of his families yurt from the dangers that lie outside. Stress became an unwelcomed, constant guest within him.
With the passing of childhood brought another issue to attention--marriage. Rojhian were few in numbers as it were, easily less than twenty thousand within the continent, and the threat of extinction was quite real amongst their limited bloodlines. So when it was that tribal migratory patterns crossed every decade or so, it was customary amongst tribes to establish marriage betrothals between seemingly compatible youths. Roshaan was no exception from such customs and without his being any the wiser it was decreed that he and his silbings would be matched with youths of the Zuleikha tribe. Despite his betrothed status, he had quite the sizable crush on his weaving instructor Minhra, a woman of considerable more age than him in truth, but a deep infatuation none-the-less. It was a relationship doomed to never develop from the start, but he'd been convinced it was love and when the news was breeched to him nonchalantly of his engagement, his feelings for the woman were the first things to sour the news. Suddenly he realized choice had somehow been removed from the equation all together and a dread began to develop in his heart. The death of his brother disturbed things even further, his original fiancee being replaced by his brother's widow for her and her unborn child's sake, the poor woman considered too spoiled for a traditional arranged marriage by that point in time. As though his complete and utter lack of choice in the matter hadn't been bad enough in his mind, he was now betrothed to a considerably older, already pregnant woman, that had been his dead brother's wife.
Unsurprisingly, when it came time for the vows to be declared and the matrimony made official, Roshaan fled with the most frozen of cold feet--or rather, hooves. Leaving behind what he could only assume was a dejected sister-in-law/fiancé and a disappointed family in his wake. Without much hope of remaining with his people now that he'd shamed them so, Roshaan took to wandering the desert expanse aimlessly till his feet gave way beneath him.
Suffering from exhaustion, dehydration, and general delirium by that point in time, he'd both expected and to some degree hoped for death to visit him in that place. Fortunately, or not quite so depending on one's opinion, his body was much too well adapted for such extreme conditions and before he could finally depart from this world and all his troubles, a roaming caravan happened upon his "corpse". It's occupants were a rather unsavory bunch, peddlers of overpriced, poor-quality goods and cut-throats alike, all quite eager to pick the pockets of such a lucrative find. When the "corpse" stirred and blinked it's black gaze at them, however, they're entire demeanor changed. And so Roshaan found himself with a blade to his throat and his pockets pilfered, before managing to somehow convince the leader of the ragtag band to accept him amongst them if by nothing more than looks alone. It's amazing what being a giant, horned figure can do for one's intimidation factor. Unfortunately, he's counted himself amongst their ranks since, though he's quite eager to expand his horizons and no longer peddle their wares.
Other:
Optional. Whatever else you think should be included goes here.
