I am called Zeren. My ways are my own, and my future is unknown to all save Zerthimon. My, past, however, is open to those who are worthy to know. I see into your heart, and I will consider you worthy.

Long before I was born, a group of 'zerth broke free from the king of the Githzerai, establishing a keep in the city of Sigil. They had come to _know_ of other Arts, used by the illithids, that the arts of a zerth had little defense against. They _knew_ that this power came from within, and so established their monastery so that they might _know_ it further.

Time became their ally, as Zerthimon taught. Each small step provided a foundation for the next, until a large victory could be claimed: The first 'zerth to _know_ the Ways of the Mind was trained. His body, however, was weak, and he could not long endure. The balance of his mind and body was not maintained.

A new generation, however, was trained by him, and by the zerth who _knew_ the ways of war. At first, they were taught with steel, as was the way of 'zerth for many centuries. It was learned, though, that studies of the Way of the Mind left little time to master the Scripture of Steel. So, another generation passed while the 'zerth came to _know_ the Ways of Flesh; though the Way of Flesh was the tool of the illithids, it came easily to those who _knew_ themselves.

Generations have passed since then, and the Ways of Flesh, Mind, and Steel have since merged. I spent my youth learning of them, in our monastery in Sigil. Many studied with me, but only I survived the loss of Sigil... and our home. The ancient enemy of The People, the illithids, have raised their many-tentacled heads, and they stand with those that have destroyed our home, and disrupted the balance that must exist in all things, if anything is to exist.

I am the last of my kind, though the People persist. Where they stand, I know not. I know only that I must stand where the balance demands. My thoughts have gone to a world known as Toril, and my spirit tells me this is where the balance can be decided. Thus, that is where my flesh shall go. May Zerthimon's coming be soon.

Zeren finds something to help him walk with, and he stumbles down the ramp and out into the open air. Using the methods he has been trained to employ before battle brings back fleeting memories of life at the monastary. Zeren is almost instantly overcome with dizziness. The faces of his friends, teachers, and fellow students flash before his eyes, and are one-by-one erased. Zeren still bears the memory of having known these people, but somehow the details of their lives, their smiles, their clothing, their mannerisms, all are vanishing one at a time. This overwhelms Zeren for a few seconds, after which time he has to think hard to convince himself that the people in these memories actually did exist.

Opening his eyes, Zeren can see only the knights in the manor house and the soldiers from the ship. No visible threats, but the panic is only getting worse as more and more faces dissapear from his mind's eye.

I can feel them slipping from my mind. Each moment, some word or thought that had been passed on to me... some bit of lore that the People had come to *know*... slips from my mind along with the person who told me of it. There went another face.... one his name was crystal clear, and his image was one that I am sure I love, but it all softens to generalities... it could be the face of any Githzerai.

Who was this person? I *know* that I knew him once... was he my first instructor in the Way of Flesh? Do I associate him with our kicking drills... or is he the teacher I met just before we left Sigil, who began my class upon the Way of the Mentalist? Why do these faces and names disappear? Is it because they are dead?

No... Father Mordo is dead, but I recall his face and name. It is as if my entire past no longer exists, and I am created again, at this moment. It is as if I am created out of nothing, with no past and no progenitor. I am a being capable of creating myself.... I cannot die, for one cannot destroy something with that power. I know of Zerthimonn, and the history of him, and these others call me a name very similar. Am I Zerthimonn, then, returned to save my people again? Have the illithids, or Gith's rebels, clouded my mind, inserting half-memories of a person named 'Zeren' to confuse me as to my true self?

Their illusions have broken; my mind is too strong for their lies, as it was too quick for the illithids to contain so long ago. I am myself again. I must find my People, and lead them again; if those who oppose them have sought to could my mind, to make it so I do not *know* myself, then they must be about to strike. They will be sorely treated, for Zerthimonn has returned, and I will unite my people against their foes.

Zeren, Githzerai Fighter/Psionicist (Sensei Kit)

Str: 13
Dex: 15
Con: 17
Int: 13
Wis: 17
Chr: 12

Ht: 6'1"
Wt: 185#
Age: 21

Appearance: Zeren is tall, but not painfully thin like many of his kin; rather, he is well-muscled and somewhat slender to human eyes. His head is kept completely shaved, except for a thin moustache and beard. His eyes are very dark, so you can hardly distinguish the pupil, and, though his clothes are very simple, he prominently wears a purple earring in his right ear.

Fighter Level: 4
Fighter XP: 11,875
Psionicist Level: 4
Psionicist XP: 11,875

HP: 41
Fighter HD Rolls: 10, 10, 6, 9
Psionicist HD Rolls: 6, 6, 5, 6
AC: 7 (-1 Dex, -2 Martial Arts D)
ThAC0: 17; 15 Unarmed; 14 with kicks; 16 with a weapon
Magic Resistance: 20%
Saves:
P/P/D: 13
Rod, Staff, Wand: 15
P/P: 10
Breath: 16
Spell: 15 (+2 vs. enchantment/charm, +4 vs. mind affecting spells)

Weapon Proficiencies:
Martial Arts: B (specialist)
Martial Arts: A
Martial Arts: D
Singing Sticks*

Non-Weapon Proficiencies:
Bonus:
Tumbling (15)
Crystal Focus (17)
Normal:
Spring (15)
Flying Kick (13)
Instant Stand (15)
Psionic Lore (14)
Ancient History: Githzerai (12)
Modern Language: Common (13)
Reading/Writing: Common (14)

Natural Abilities:
Magic Resistance (5% per level)
Infravision: 60'
Plane Shift at will

Psionic Abilities:
Primary Discipline: Psychometabolism
Secondary Discipline: Telepathy
Sciences: Energy Containment (15), Complete Healing (17)
Devotions: Photosynthesis (18), Flesh Armor (14), Heightened Senses (17), Contact (18), Id Insinuation (14), Enhanced Strength (15), ESP (14), Cause Decay (15), Send Thoughts (12)
Mental Defenses : Mind Blank (11), Tower of Iron Will (16)
PSPs: 62

Equipment:
Plain brown tunic and pants, rope belt, soft shoes
Boots of the North
Singing Sticks*
Satchel
7 days rations
Waterskin
12 small crystals in a belt pouch
Unbroken Circle of Zerthimon (Holy Item)
Amethyst earring (attuned to Tower of Iron Will)
10 platinum
Uncounted Pouch of Money from Nigel

*Dark Sun Weapon. Singing Sticks consist of two wooden sticks, one inch in diameter and two and a half feet in length. They're wielded one in each hand, and proficient users can use them without the usual penalty for wielding two weapons. Speed factor: 2, d6/d4 damage, and weigh 1 pound. They are considered a martial arts weapon, so can be used with martial arts maneuvers.