Tegron Leorak the Ifrit Paladin

The musty air of the tavern hangs stagnant around your head as someone picks idly at a lute. The dull grind of the neighboring barstool being pulled out causes the ale in your tankard to shake and ripple. “Hello friend, rough storm out there eh?” A sopping wet man leans on the bar and water drips from his cloak into the sawdust. “Barkeep, if I could get some of that dwarven whiskey? Need something to warm me up.” The barkeep nods and shuffles off to the backroom. “You don’t look like you are from around here. Not like it’s hard to tell, you don’t have the look of a local. That Caliphas stare… Anyways, lemme guess, skymetal peddler from Numeria? Hardly matters, everyone is nestled up where it’s dry on a night like this.” The barkeep places the man’s order on the bar and the man pushes a silver across to him. “Ah that’s the stuff. Good to warm the bones.” The man knocks back the small glass. “Pity it’s such a small glass, barely a candle’s warmth on a night like this and I don’t have any more silver on me…” The man looks longingly at the bottom of the glass. “Ah, how’s about you buy me another drink and I will give you a little bit of local flavor? I have a short tale you might enjoy. Might even make you a bit of coin in the future.” Without waiting for your answer the man continues off on his tale.

Our tale begins long ago, not long before the Whispering Tyrant business, a young nobleman who’s family business was sailing Lake Encarthan. Against his family’s wishes the young noble sets out blessed with divine conviction to become a wandering paladin. He traveled the world and encountered many wondrous things. He fought the lurking shadows across Avistan as a righteous warrior until one day he chanced across an ancient brass box. He opened the box and was met with a beautiful efreeti, trapped long ago by a sorcerer within the confines of the brass prison and enslaved for her magical powers. The young nobleman was awed by the beauty of the efreeti and fell in love at first sight. The efreeti made a proposal to the young nobleman. In exchange for three wishes he would grant her freedom and smash the brass box. The young nobleman refused her proposal but smashed the box anyways unable to fathom exploiting her. After smashing the box, the young noble pledged his love for the efreeti and begged her not to leave for her home plane. Moved by his love, the efreeti remained and accompanied the young noble on his travels. Together they traveled the land and eventually the efreeti began to fall for the young noble. Eventually they became wed and she bore a child. Not long after this, the Whispering Tyrant rose from and conquered the young noble’s homeland. Together the two set forth to try and retake his noble estate. They failed and in the process the young noble’s wife was killed, slain by the foul magics of the Whispering Tyrant’s dark legion. Wounded and alone, the young noble retreated but raised his child to become a greater warrior than he was. Blessed with the blood of their mother the child had powers beyond that of a normal human but also a frightful appearance. The only place they could find a home was among the shining crusade. There, they stayed and for generation the descendants of the noble family fought in the centuries long war. When the Whispering Tyrant fell the living members of the lineage found the home the never knew.
With the spoils of the war, the noble house was rebuilt and the curious noble line settled down for their long awaited rest. But the passionate blood of the efreeti never truly faded from the line and every generation at least one child continued to be born with the traits of the long dead matron. While the rest of the family was content with managing and growing the estate, these young ifrits would go out into the world and seek adventure as their blood burned for adventure. To this day that burning blood continues to pulse through the veins of the house and while these days the blood might skip a generation, it’s still there. In fact, not too many years ago it reared its head. Now this young ifrit was born and raised a proper follower of Iomedae and was even blessed with the gift of divine power. So it was that like his long dead progenitor, the young ifrit set out to right the wrongs of the world. In his travels he happened to save an academic of sorts. Faced with a pack of hungry wolves, the man of knowledge was about to be devoured when fate intervened and our young ifrit chanced upon their imperiled caravan. The young ifrit was no match for the pack of wolves but drawing upon the power of his bloodline a burst of flame frightened off the hungry beasts. The academic was grateful for the aid and the academic offered his eternal gratitude.

“Sadly, it seems the academic’s fortune has ran out and he has wound up dead. His estate sent a message summoning the ifrit for the funeral. Saw the lad off just this morning. Hopefully he makes it back in one piece…” The man stretches and flicks the rim of his empty glass. “So, how about that drink?”

After closer inspection, I could not find any references to the trait "dervish" on the srd beyond a single line in one of the tables with no source listing.  This makes me believe that it is probably a 3rd party trait and as such i have replaced it with Group fighter (additional +1 to attack while flanking).