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“When you follow a star you know you will never reach that star.
Rather it will guide you to where you want to go. ...
So it is with the world. It will only ever lead you back to yourself.”

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It's a tragic thing, to be born between two worlds.

There arises constant demands from each side, and an ever present demand to sate each's desires. Isra of the Wastes is well acquainted to a life such as this. Of both Redguard and Reachmen blood, the wandering hermit is oft torn between spending his days among the endless, glistening sands of the Alik'r Desert, and the sprawling, tundra and bluffs of The Reach;  his blood's memories beckoning him towards the forested isle of ancestors past.[/font]


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[font=Lucida Sans]Of immense height but slim build, Isra's eyes reflect the bright sky, at odds with the Earthen tones of his skin. Coarse hair typically conceals a broad jaw; drawing attention to his angular nose and high cheekbones, his brow high and eyes creased at the corners; the top of his head bare, blackened hairs shaved away. Light freckles dot his cheeks and forehead; but his face is absent of scars and markings. [/font]


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[font=Lucida Sans]Oft, the man stares at the night sky; for no matter what, it is always the same - separated from the ceaseless conflict that infects the world and an infinite dreamscape. A perfect map of the heavens exists within his head, and the hidden paths of the dunes and the woods that he treads are unknown to many. Tales are spread of the man of the wastes and his strangeness. A fickle spirit who's soul has yet to carry on, an exiled mage, a scorned guide. Little is truly known of the individual besides his imposing figure and cautious demeanor; and the wild magicks he wields.[/font]