Harim

Harim stood on the edge of the world, at least it felt like it. The floating monastery of the Faceless Monks stayed around a thousand feet above the ground, currently hovering over the deserts of Helios. The Faceless Monks are a society that believes in a natural balance, there is no right or wrong; good or evil. Everything has a purpose. They remain separate from the world on their floating citadel until it is necessary to intervene to maintain balance. They are keepers and students of world history. Using the information from the past to create balance for the future. The name Faceless is given to them by the people of the world, only the monks know their true name, the Pingstatera. They get their name because they blend in with civilization appearing as farmers, soldiers, merchants and whatever disguise they need to complete their mission. No one knows who they are or where they come from, they are merely shadows, myths that pass between the people of the world.

He scanned the vast sands, seeing no end even from this height. The ocean would start to appear just after the oasis city of Bahir. Bahir was Harim's birthplace, no longer his home; he gave that title to the Cloud Monastery. It had been his home since his parent's sold him into slavery and the monks freed him. Master Tensang took him in. A lost, forgotten or unwanted child made the best students, no one would know them and care that they were gone.

Life at the Cloud Monastery wasn't easy. Constant rigorous training, immersive studies on history, nature and religion, on top of learning to live above the world. Harim dove into the process and was a quick study picking up combat training and his studies faster than most. He drew the attention of a few of the other masters, eager to learn of this new trainee. Harim had passed all the tests but the final one, this one.

As Bahir neared so did Harim's first mission. Somewhere in the city a man had stumbled upon a powerful artifact, one that began to alter his life and the people around him. The balance in the world was off and the item needed to be retrieved for it should never have existed in the beginning. Harim leaned over the edge of the clouds. It was a beautiful scene, the sun was setting behind them, the colorful oasis was a thriving spot in the wasteland. Plants began to glow, a magical effect they took on at nightfell. It looked as if he was staring at a coral reef in the sea, the people in the streets, the fish and the various buildings and their homes amongst the coral and shelf. Although he had never seen one in person he had read about them. One of the first lessons he had as a child was on all forms of life in the world, covering everything from the sea to the sky.

"Harim, are you ready?" His master interrupted his thoughts.

Harim slowly turned to face Master Tensang. He was an older but muscular human man. His chiseled form is hidden by his gray monk robes. He had his hands clasped behind his back. Besides his bald head and his athletic form he has no other distinctive features. Harim wasn't sure if the appearance of his master was his real form, considering they all knew how to alter their features. A skill essential to staying in the shadows to pull on the threads of the world.

"I am."

"Good, then jump." Master Tensang waited.

Harim returned to face the edge. He jumped. The wind rushed past as he fell. It was his first leap, something he had seen older monks make many times, it was the only way off the monastery cloud. He felt no fear as he fell, he had trust. Five hundred feet flew by in a blink, the city fast approaching, he dove for a small alley, near the outskirts of town. At a hundred feet he slowed, no longer diving at full speed, his feet touched down on the sandy path. He felt the magic fade away. Glancing up, all he saw was a cloud overhead, with one specific feature that only someone who had been told about it could spot. The outer rim of the cloud turned in a clockwise circle, with the next section of the cloud the opposite way. This pattern continued this way a couple more times until the center of the cloud remained motionless. The mechanism behind keeping the monastery floating created this mysterious pattern. It was his first time seeing it, it is the way the monks know how to return.

Harim turned his attention to his birth city. He took a calming breath, centering himself. This was his first time back since he had been sold. He no longer held any contempt towards his parents, that emotion was trained out of him. The monks, true to their principles, focused on centering their bodies and minds. 'To find balance in the world one must first find balance in themselves,' Master Tensang's voice found Harim's thoughts. He took a step forward, and another, and another until he was out of the alley walking down a street towards the ambiance of a nearby tavern.

The sound of cheering and revelry told him he was nearing his target. At the end of the street was a large sandstone tavern. He kept his hood up as he neared, altering his appearance into one of a simple shopkeep heading to the tavern for an after work drink. As he pushed open the door he was immediately thrown into a bustling establishment. Instead of lanterns a few of these glowing orange and yellow plants created the light in the room. The hard packed sandy floor was sunken a few feet from the entrance. Tables of a light wood wrapped around the edges of the sandstone walls with a bar at the back of the room. A set of stairs went up to the next floor directly to the right of the entrance before the small steps down to the main floor of the tavern. However, the focal point of the establishment was the center where no tables sat. Rather, between four pillars of the same light wood was a sandy fighting pit.

The Belabor of Bahir was a renowned fighting pit. Fighters would travel from across the continent of Helios and some even from the far reaches of the world to fight in the sand pit for glory and coin. Harim watched as two combatants walked into the center of the ring. The larger fighter looked cocky for he was bigger than his opponent in every way. His opponent, a gnome, confidently locked eyes with him. A loud bell signified the start. If Harim didn't know his secret he would have joined the crowd in shock as the gnome jumped and threw one punch dropping his opponent in one swing. The unconscious body thumped into the sand. Silence fell over the crowd before they roared with excitement. Harim stayed focused on the victor. The gnome seemed to be rubbing his knuckles but Harim noticed he was twirling a ring on his finger.

Finding a seat at the back of the room he kept an eye on the gnome fighter who went on to fight three more times, each time winning with ease and against opponents that were past champions of this pit.

The gnome wasn't from the city, he had come from a small village to the North. The Faceless found out about him a few weeks before he made his way to Bahir. Somehow he had uncovered a powerful magical artifact and realized it gave him the ability to fight. He set off to seek fame and fortune making his way to the Belabor of Bahir.

The tavern began to empty, the fighters last to leave, finishing off the many drinks bought for them by those that were fortunate enough to bet on the winners. The gnome drunkenly staggered towards the door and Harim. He exited into the late night. At night temperatures in the desert dropped to near freezing but here in the oasis the magical aura and the underground heat generated by a hidden volcanic source kept the city humid. The gnome stumbled through the street with his large sack of winnings, easily more money than he had ever seen in his life, unaware of a group of men slinking out of the shadows.

Harim kept his distance as the three men crept from the shadows towards his target. They had not seen him. The train of followers continued to stalk the slow moving intoxicated gnome, waiting for their moment. It came when the gnome wandered into an alley to piss. He drunkenly leaned against a building holding his member in one hand and the sack of gold in the other. The three attackers sprung, one grabbed the pouch the other two jumped on top of the gnome beating him. In his stupor, literally caught with his pants down, the gnome couldn't fight back and the attackers went to work. Harim watched making sure they didn't take the ring and after a minute they dashed away into the night. Harim recognized them as two of the fighters the gnome had easily beaten that night and a patron that had lost money betting against the gnome.

The sound of labored breathing reached Harim's ears as the gnome struggled to breath through broken and cracked ribs. His blood leaked out of cuts on his face and arms where a knife had slashed him. Dark spots were forming through his clothes and a snapped bone in his leg protruded through the skin poking through his pants. Harim tried to not feel bad for him, it wasn't his place. He knelt beside the dying gnome and slipped the ring of his index finger. It was a simple piece of jewelry, a silver band with a small groove down the middle, something easily overlooked by the muggers.

Harim left the gnome laying in the alley not looking back but no longer hearing labored breathing.