[CHAR] The Valencia - [High Fantasy, Pirates]

[LadyTabris]

Captain
Captain Amia || GM-Controlled NPC - LadyTabris || F, Chartan, Spearfighter

Character Sheet

Name: Amia (Captain Amia)
Age: 34
Sex: Female
Nationality: Chartan
Class: Spearfighter
Fighting Style: She carries a Chartan style spear and a light shield when in combat. She has two pistols,
single-shot.
Physical Description: Amia has dark skin, like most Chartans, with curly, thick, uncontrollable hair. She cuts it short, to her ears, and it usually stays in one big pile on top of her head. She has big, chocolate brown eyes. Her body is marked with many scars from her past. She has marks from where a whip lashed against her back, and puffy marks around her wrists from being bound far too tightly for too long. Most prominently, she has a scar on her cheek about the size of a coin, and another on the back of her shoulder about the size of a hand,
where she cut off her slave brands.
Personality/Mental: Ever since her escape, she has been determined to hold on to her freedom. She is warm and charismatic, despite not always having been that way. For a time in her past, she lost her faith in people.
However, being with Avoir's crew has transformed her into more like the person she was supposed to be, in her mind. When she was a child, she was a natural leader with her friends; she was kind, intelligent, compassionate, and she took responsibility for her actions - and often theirs. She has regained many of these qualities,
which she lost for a time to mindless fighting. She has regained her trust in people and her compassion for them. However, if she sees someone being treated unfairly, she would easily lash out. She also believes in a means-to-an-end mindset, if the end goal is good.
History: She was born in a small desert village in Charta, to a loving family with many other children around her age to play with. She lived there until she was twelve years old, when a slaver raid came through and took her among others in her village. For a few years, she was sold as a household servant in Charta City.
When she was 15, another servant, a slave, who was living in the same quarters as her tried to rape her while he was drunk. She found him viciously and ended up killing him. After that, she became a "danger" as a servant and so she was sold to Charta's gladiator ring for almost no money. She started off training (as it wasn't a good show for the audience if she couldn't put up a bit of a fight before she was killed), but they didn't intend to train her very much, as she didn't have huge potential. She started with a sword and shield and she became a bit of an underdog. They started her at lower level fights and when they saw she had an actual aptitude for it, they began to actually train her.
It was a vicious life for her, as she could die in any of those fights, but she lived through it. It made her harder, more closed off and indifferent. She didn't talk to her fellow fighters out of fear that she would have to kill them. Sometimes she did kill people who had lunch at the same table as she did only a day earlier. Eventually, another slave had planned and started a small uprising in an attempt to escape. During the turmoil,
she ran. She cut off her slave markings in anger, cauterized them herself with a heated blade. It was still obvious that there had been slave markings there, but she didn't care. They were gone. Amia made for the coast, where she was able to get picked up on a vessel. She made her way to Chariot, dodging bounty hunters until she got there.
Once she was there, she felt immense relief. She had finally succeeded. She met Avoir through a bar fight,
ironically. After that, he offered her a place on his ship (he wasn't very prestigious yet). She didn't accept right away, but he slowly earned her trust as he came to visit her every time he stopped in Chariot. Eventually,
she came aboard and learned to sail. The crew earned her trust, and she them. She started to feel like she belonged, like she was safe, and like she was herself again. Years later, she was appointed his First Mate. He put her in charge of The Valencia because the two trust each other unconditionally.

First Mate
Fujin Ayame || Sabotage || M, Endenic Samurai

Quartermaster
Galen Forthwith || POOHEAD189 || M, Chartan Duelist

Cook
Sylvi Wulfharth || Sputnik || F, Valian Barbarian

Medic
Kossara MacConagh || ihinka || F, Healer/Shinobi, Reflection Isle

Navigator
Kerris Hughes || LadyTabris || F, Elsmerean Weather Mage

Lookout
Orm the Albino || BurningCold || M, Northern Shapeshifter

Sailors
Lucia Dorret || LordofthePies || F, Chorn Rogue/Archer
Anastasia Celica Verula III (Celica the Enchantress) || SuperNova9000 || F, Ivicis Hold, Enchantress/Swordswoman
Isaak || CaptainCaptcha || M, Valian Mercenary

Passengers

possible?
Lookout
Medic
Carpenter

---

---

Aɢᴇ: 23
Sᴇx: Female
Nᴀᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟɪᴛʏ: Elsmere Hold, Arrylia, Marran Empire
Cʟᴀss: Weather Mage

Pʜʏsɪᴄᴀʟ Dᴇsᴄʀɪᴘᴛɪᴏɴ: Kerris' origins are very visible in her looks. Her bronzed skin and green eyes combined with her auburn hair screams "Elsmere." She keeps her hair at shoulder-length. It is usually messy and knotted but she rarely ever ties it back. She is on the short side, even for an Elsmerean, at 5 feet tall. She is very thin but muscled, especially in her arms. She usually wears practical leggings and a light tunic, with sturdy boots. She has been occasionally seen to wear simple cotton dresses, but those are saved for special occasions or vacation time when she's at port, unlikely to have to climb or run. If she does run into that sort of situation, she'd likely just tear the skirt of her dress, as she's always prepared with boots underneath.

Fɪɢʜᴛɪɴɢ Sᴛʏʟᴇ: Magic is her primary weapon, but she is small and quick, so if she can't use magic, she relies on stealth. She usually carries a dagger with her for those sorts of situations. She's a very skilled climber and pickpocket. She is good with her magic, but as she is slightly on the powerful side, she needs to make sure she is using it often enough in small quantities to keep herself healthy and not a danger to those around her.

Pᴇʀsᴏɴᴀʟɪᴛʏ/Mᴇɴᴛᴀʟ: First and foremost, Kerris is hardworking. She has worked all her life and sees no other way of living. She is dedicated to her family and making sure she sends enough money that her brothers and sister can live happily, and not as harshly as she had. She is an outgoing person, who makes friends easily despite being stern at times. She has always made good friends on the ships she's worked on. She takes her work seriously. She's always willing to go on another lucrative job for the chance that she could potentially send enough money back home that her family would never have to worry again. She misses them dearly and writes often.
She loves the work she does on the ships, but is used to any kind of work, even dirtier jobs. However, the pirates' pay is the best she's ever received from any job, while she is with a capable crew, and she wants to keep that going for herself. She doesn't care much for the illegitimacy of the jobs; it isn't anywhere near the first illegal job she had done (though it was in a pirate crew that she killed her first man, so they did get a bit dirtier), and she is dedicated to it.
She is very careful with her work, but when she isn't working she can get distracted easily, often by drinking. For a long time, she didn't drink at all and had no interest, but since joining the pirates, she has had a desire to fit in so she finds herself doing things she never thought she would before. Sometimes, they turn out to be enjoyable, and sometimes she finds herself feeling guilty.

Hɪsᴛᴏʀʏ: Kerris was born into a poor family in Elsmere's capital city. Her mother died giving birth to her youngest sibling, out of 4, of which she was the eldest. After that, she joined her father in picking up any job anyone would pay them for in order to support the rest of the family. Because of this, she picked up a pretty diverse skillset.
The first job she started doing was fruit gathering, a low-paying, high-risk job up in the thinnest branches of the trees. Many poor children take this job because it's easier when you're small. She kept the job for years when she was young, and this gave her muscles and helped her gain balance and agility. She picked up other jobs at the same time, and was working from dawn till dusk almost every day. She ran deliveries, letters, even worked as an assistant for a local blacksmith at times. She spent a month working in bridge repair after a huge flood.
When she was a little older, she got a job on one of the fishing boats that travel up and down the river. That was how she learned to sail, and from there she kept sailing and kept sending money back to her family. From there, she worked her way up the ships. She got a better job on the ocean with her experience, where she worked her way up to working with maps and currents.
Her magic started to manifest when she was 15. Kerris had a habit of accidentally shocking people who startled her, luckily never fatally. She was working on that ship at the time, and the people on board had come to care for and like her. Her friend, the navigator she had been learning from, who wasn't a mage but had known some others who could perhaps teach her, arranged for her to be dropped off to the south. She traveled from there, east, to Lybertay. After that, she found the inn she had been told to find and dropped the navigator's name. The people there helped her get passage on a pirate vessel.
When she arrived on Chariot, she knew that her family had gone a fair bit of time without her income. She was starting to become concerned that they wouldn't be well enough off. She kept very little of her wages, so it was a significant amount of money for a poor family. She set off trying to find the man whom she was told could teach her to use her magic. By this time, she had started to get a feel for the river being in her head and she had taught herself a bit of basic self-control on holding the magic back. She couldn't direct it purposefully in any way, and in times of distraction, her control could easily lapse.
The ship she was searching for, the Justice, came into port not long after she arrived. However, when she approached the navigator, he turned her away. He already had an apprentice, he said, and the man was coming along nicely. After this, she had to set out on her own. She took a few odd jobs in Chariot the way she had learned to as a child to live, and a few months later, she finally met a weather mage who would take her on as an apprentice. The ship was named the Swan's Wail.
She stayed on the swan's wail for many years while she learned. She turned out to be just above average in terms of power level, nothing unusual, but very able to help a ship along. Because she was actually more powerful than her teacher, she later outshined him and gained a position on an even bigger, well-known vessel, which she helped achieve a lot of success at their raiding. She always sent her money back to her family, except a small sum for herself. By the time of the pirate wars, she had made enough of a name for herself to be noticed by Avoir when selecting his crew.

Iɴᴠᴇɴᴛᴏʀʏ:

• Steel Dagger
• Simple clothes, sturdy boots.
• 15 gold
• Waterskin
• Playing cards
  In her quarters:
• Ocean charts, navigation books.
• Ship records, inventory details
• A few history books
• Many letters from home
• Bottle of rum

[LordofthePies]

Name: Lucia Dorret (Luch-ee-uh Door-et)

Age: 26

Sex: Female

Nationality: Chorn

Class: Rogue/Archer

Physical Description:

Lucia has rather dark skin and almost black hair. Her eyes resemble the color of a mud puddle caught in the shadow of a building. Her face is built like that of a stereotypical fantasy elf; a long face, a pointed chin, high cheek bones, pointed eyes, and a small nose. Lucia is rather tall and is very lanky, she is roughly 6'2". Her dark hair is cut very haphazardly and short, looking like someone took fistfuls of hair and chopped it off. Lucia has long fingers, good for playing piano, and they add to her spindly appearance. She is missing her left pointer finger, in a result of her near-death experience. She has very soft skin, clearly not hardened by hard work or battle scars. Dorret has a ballerina-like gait, she walks quietly with a straight spine, head held heigh. She wouldn't be caught dead without her favorite, albeit cliche, forked pirate hat, black feather included.

Fighting Style:
Lucia prefers to strike from in the shadows. She's not an up-close as personal kind of gal, she prefers to fire the arrow that seems to appear from thin air before embedding itself in its target. When someone gets a little too close, she'll lash out with a dagger.

Skills
- Stealth
- Leadership
- Pickpocketing
- Archery

Personality/Mental:
Lucia is constantly living in the "work smarter not harder" mindset. If she could do something faster by doing it dishonestly, she will. Her mindset might also be part of her slothfulness. She'd much rather sit than stand, walk than run, or starve for a few hours than go through the trouble of making a meal.
If she was a common-day human being, she would've been diagnosed with ADD. She'll switch a topic at the drop of a hat, and is attracted to anything that gives off a faint shine or glow. It's actually so bad, she'll be in the middle of running for her life but will stop to grab a coin from a nearby box.
Dorret has never liked the idea of someone's freedom's being taken away. If you can't do what you please, then what's the point of living?
Lucia doesn't believe in Gods and all that nonsense, but she does believe in some sort of an afterlife. She has total faith in the existence of ghosts.
Lucia, on one of her little 'adventures', encountered a very angry ice mage. What made him so upset was beyond her, but it might have something to do with his 'lost' items. In the middle of their meeting, the ice mage froze her to death. She was legally brain dead for a few minutes, leaving her with some brain damage. After the mage was captured and Lucia cooled off, pun intended, she figured everything was fine. That was until she started hearing voices and seeing off-putting images that were seemingly disregarded by the creatures around her. Turns out she didn't just lose her finger to frostbite that day, she also lost her mind.

History: Ever since she was a little miscreant living on a rice plantation she wanted to be a sailor. The freedom of being able to go where you wanted, whether that be a half a world away, was very appealing in her mind.
When her mother wasn't working and she wasn't sleeping, she would tell Lucia stories of her time at sea. Lucia stole herself a row boat after being inspired by her mother's tales. She dreamt of being able to sail anywhere, and have the experience of being truly free. Stealing the boat was not a very bright idea considering she didn't know how it worked and immediately lost the paddles when she finally got in the water. Even though she crashed it into several rocks, it was the best day of her life. Ever since she's been boating around every chance she gets.
Her father's lessons in thievery stuck with her, so she took anything worth anything. She gained quite the criminal record, so becoming an honest sailor was something she couldn't really do. She still doesn't consider herself a pirate, she is a sailor in her mind, albeit a crooked one.
Her childhood would look like a mess to someone on the outside. Her mother a farmer and her father a crook. It wasn't exactly the best couple one would hope for. With her mother nearly consumed by the work on the rice field, she spent the majority of her time with her ex-con of a father. Before he had hidden away on Chorn, he had been a professional thief and assassin. He was still technically on the run, even though he didn't go anywhere.
Lucia's father often took her to the docks, to show her the closest thing to life outside of a field. This is where her father taught her how to be as quiet as a shadow, and to be a thieving weasel. She stole many trinkets from the sailors, and every now and then their lunch. When they were pulling off a small heist, that would be the only time she would hear her father laugh.
When she eventually got too big to give the sailors her doe eyes, her father taught her his other profession. When she first started, she could barely knock an arrow without it sliding away or falling off. Through the years of constant practice and advice from her father, she finally managed to shoot a rabbit. Although, when she was 15, her father was found and was sentenced to death for his crimes. Lucia remembered her father saying, "Everything is going to be alright. Stay strong, little thing," before he was taken onto a boat never to be seen again. She still practices with her bow, to honor her father's memory.


Inventory:
Bow & Arrows
Dagger
Around 50 gold (or whatever the currency is)
Spare clothes
Some blankets
A water skin
A pot
A short book

[CaptainCaptcha]

Name: Isaak
Age: 19
Sex: Male
Nationality: Valia
Class: Mercenary
Physical Description:

Isaak stands at about 5'11" and has a fairly muscular build. His hair is jet black and swept back to stay out of his face while his skin is a light tan shade. His eyes are a pale gunmetal blue and his face displays a nice calm expression most of the time. His body displays a number of scars from various encounters over the course of his life, though none of which are on his back. His most prominent scar is a streak of pale flesh that runs from the bottom left side of his nose diagonally down to his jaw. His body seems to oze strength and while he does often carry himself in a way that shows this off when he is around strangers, alone or when things are quiet he takes a looser and casual posture of just a teenager. He is definitely an insomniac, due to events in his past so he is often found training or simply lying awake at night.

Fighting Style:

He is a powerhouse with a greatsword. He trains constantly to increase his ability with the huge weapon. He uses his strength and agility to his advantage in up close combat, relying on overpowering his opponent(s) or being able to avoid whatever they can throw at him.

Personality/Mental:

He tends to be fairly calm and serene. He will make sarcastic comments and poke fun (often going too far). He doesn't really know how to express himself due to his upbringing of being raised by socially inept mercenaries, so often charisma is not at all his strong suit. He does enjoy the feeling of camaraderie he once had from the band of mercenaries but they left him with a difficulty to trust basically anyone. The only way he ever learned to express himself was through combat, but there are other times when he starts to get the hang of it and other times he finds himself happy, and if he learns to trust you then you have a friend for life.

History:

Isaak was found as a baby by a band of mercenaries that had been hired to storm a camp. Isaak had presumebly been born to someone in the camp but had been abandoned in the middle of the trail leading through it. He lay there, half in a blanket and crying. One of the kinder mercenaries, Arin, scooped him up and took him along with the group. THe time until isaak was about six years of age were fairly uninteresting, it was at this age that he was being taught how to fight. He was young, but no mercenary eats for free and so he was taught the ways of combat. He excelled at swordplay and wasn't half bad with another weapon in hand either. He caught on quick and trained a lot a night to get even better, and soon he was in battle. He did small roles and there wasn't too mch danger for him, but he was killing men none the less and though it was hard at first he soon learned it well.

By the time he was ten the band of mercenaries was at a good spot, they were well known and money came in, and Isaak had proven himself a worthy member. Sure they teased him and pushed him around, but if it came to it he was sure they would have his back. It was at this tender age that he had his little spot in the world ripped away from him. While they all slept a rival group that had been tracking them found their camp and stealthily made their way in and as the band of mercenaries lay asleep they were taken out. It was when Isaak woke up and saw what was happening that he yelled and attacked with all he had. He woke nearby comrades and those in near tents and soon the remaining ones were awake and fighting. They fought valiantly and well, but they were at a disadvantage from the start. Isaak wanted to fight to the end, but Arin's dying words were to run and run he did. Now he was a cold and lonely kid, with the only career skills to his name being murder. He kept on fighting as best he could, and learned that the world doesn't care how old you are, it will trod you down. People spit in his face and thought him disgusting, all he had to his name was his sword. He remained in the business he knew and still did very well, earning a very good name for himself by the time he was fifteen. It was at this time that he had gotten himself a new sword, one more fit to his size, a large greatsword made for an adult man of above average size. While he didn't seem large enough to wield it yet, Isaak knew he needed a weapon that would keep foes at range. What he had was power and he needed a weapon that would allow him to fully utilize it. He got a hand crossbow and called it a day, having all of the tools of the trade he would need to continue this line of work well into his life.

Inventory:

• Greatsword
• Hand Crossbow
• Bolts
• Waterskin
• Bedroll
• Whetstone
• 150 Gold
• A few novels
• A tankard

[SuperNova9000]

Anastasia Celica Verula III

AKA

Celica the Enchantress

Age: 32
Gender: Female
Nationality: Ivicis Hold, Empire of Mar
Class: Enchantress/Swordswoman

Physical Description:
Standing at a humble 5'2" Celica can appear rather unassuming. Her pale complexion and long jet black hair are trademarks of her lineage but none so prominent than her piercing blue eyes. It's rumored she can peer into your soul by staring you down but really she has spent enough time around liars to spot one at a glance.

She wears simple robes made of fine cloth and is rarely found without an assortment of leather belts adorned with different trinkets, vials, and the occasional book. Glasses rest on her nose fitted with silk string on either side to keep them in place.

Fighting Style:
Celica generally relies on her swordsmanship, as enchanting isn't all that practical in combat. She trained in Regal Fencing, a one-handed sword style that favors quick movements and piercing thrusts. Celica is quick but overall only slightly above average in terms of swordsmanship. She carries a rapier that is most suited to her style.

Personality/Mental:

Expand Personality/Mental

On the outside Celica is eccentric, sometimes even ludricous. A mad genius only to be taken seriously half the time. In reality she is observant, always calculating the risks and weighing them against the possible rewards. Celica had survived by anticipating the troubles ahead and formulating creative solutions.

During her time in the world she developed a taste for alcohol and consumes it at an alarming rate. Drunken witch is a common moniker that floats around the local cantinas. She hides the pain of her suffering in an ocean of booze and lashes out at those who might think to pry.

She despises nobility and sees them as opportunists born into privilege. Nothing matters to her more than her craft and so long as she has the freedom to pursue her research she is happy. Also of note is that Celica is a lesbian and holds a negative bias towards men.

History:

Expand History

Celica is the second daughter of the current governor of Ivicus Hold with two siblings, an older brother and sister. She lived a privileged life of sorts but was relatively unimportant in the scheme of politics. Because of this she saw the court for what it was, a den of wolves in sheep's clothing. She despised the courtiers for all their scheming and trickery. It was an unfortunate truth that she took to heart. Even her own father was well-versed in the art of performance and it was only natural that she learn as well.

Her social status afforded her an extensive education, she learned about many cultures and religions, though she never cared much for the latter. She also studied different forms of government, swordsmanship, statecraft, economics, horse-back riding, and sailing, among other things.

When she was twelve her father discovered her talent for magic. Being the opportunist that he was, he kept her magic a secret from the world and arranged a mage from a prestigious school to tutor her in secret. So Celica had yet another field to study. It didn't make much of a difference to her. She kept meeting in secret with her tutor until at sixteen rumors startedto spread that one of the governors daughters was a mage.

In order to save face Governor Verula made an announcement that Celica had recently been examined and accepted into the Ivicis school of Magic. It was a rather grandiose event, there was even a celebration although it was all just for show.

Her time at the magic school was spent learning about her talent. She learned of the different magics and how to implement them. Every day she spent buried in books, listening to lectures, an conducting practical experiments. She eventually escaped with the help of some colleagues in a rather gruesome fashion.

She drifted from place to place dodging bounty hunters and slavers until she found herself on the free isle. She made a home there where she regularly conducts research and sells enchanted goods to fund her work. She has also aided the council of captains on numerous occasions but has never aspired to captain a vessel herself, despite being qualified and wealthy enough to own a ship.

Inventory:
Rapier sword

Sword Enchantments

◇Dragon Dance◇
(Fire enchant: the blade burns hot and spouts fire from strikes)
(Chant Trigger)
Burning heart enthralled,
Soul of flame become my sword.
Behold, Dragon Dance!

◇Winter Waltz◇
(Ice enchant: freezes anything the blade touches)
(Chant Trigger)
Chilling death ensnared,
True ice become my vanguard.
Kneel to Winter Waltz!

◇Vampire Fang◇
(Healing enchant: blood soaked up from living creatures heals the user)
(Chant Trigger)
Ties of soul and blood,
Radiate through sanguine blade.
Submit, Vampire Fang!

◇Storm Lash◇
(Weather enchant: the blade becomes a whip made of lighting)
(Chant Trigger)
Nature's cannon bound,
Thunder become victory.
Clash, mighty Storm Lash!

Waterskin
Leather utility belt ×3
Component pouch
Book pouch
Pressurized steam grenades x2
Flash paper x12 (generates blinding light when torn or cut)
Life elixir vials x 3 (stimulates rapid healing)

---

Alistair

Age: 21
Gender: Male
Nationality: Free Isle
Class: Illusion Mage/Businessman

---

Morgan

Age: 18
Gender: Female
Nationality: Free Isle
Class: Ice Mage

[Sputnik]

Name: Sylvi "Red" Wulfharth

Age: 30

Sex: Female

Nationality: Valian

Class: Barbarian

Physical Description:
It's not so difficult to discern Sylvi amongst an ordinary crowd. With her bright orange, wavy-thick hair resting down to her waist, either freely hanging or tied into an unkempt braid topped with a thin headband resting around her head. Her face is round and prominent, freckles resting on her rosy cheeks, which further glows with emotion. She has soft scarred gashes running across the left side of her lip and above her right brow. Her eyebrows are thick yet perfectly shaped into a soft arch, and dark green eyes, unturned and full of life.

Physically, she's strong. A height not exceeding beyond 5'10 and a body frame built to topple over the strongest of men and some beasts, having the perfect proportion of muscles and curves that developed from years of rigorous training and experience.

As for the way she wears, she prefers furs and fabric, some straps and belts to hold weapons, over hardbound armor. It's simply a matter of convenience as it gives her free movement while fighting, but if armor is ever going to be a requirement she'd chose leather pads over iron/metal, as wearing such as heavy would be more of a hindrance than a benefit.

Fighting Style:
Sylvi trusts her own physical strength, relying on plain ol brute force to deal with her problems head on. Ideally she prefers dual weapons, and occasionally uses the bow in long range combat. She can settle things with her fist just as effectively, either monumentally or to those who would simply just casually dare her to a brawl. (which she is yet to be defeated at)

Personality/Mental:

Sylvi more or less contrast from your typical raid mongering Valian. Sure growing up in a culture unconventional as it is, none the less had mildly steered the young woman to a more brute/aggressive way of dealing things, favorably directly but never to the point of physical recklessness unless needed. Because of this she may come across as impatient, and even patronizing to those she considers incapable or inexperienced, and would go as far as putting herself at risk in a fiery whirlwind if her patience is pushed to the limit.

During her adolescent years Sylvi was naive, over eager and ten times the firebrand than she is now. That is until she lost her husband where she "learned" to take things one step at a time. Normally she's a calm and laid back individual, social, compassionate and always ready to lend an ear to those who need it. She has a strong sense of family and knows better not to put people away, no matter who they may ever be. She can see past the person and is always never one to judge. Even with her own impatience she makes an effort to understand. Sylvi values her closest friends and family the most over anything in the world, and will go through everything if it means keeping them safe or happy. Besides those qualities, she's a natural cook, part of the reason why landed a place in the ship. She also knits in her spare time. Sylvi believes in a god and Yval is the closest she can get to that yet she longingly searches for some sort of spiritual fulfillment which she had yet to find.


History:
All throughout her childhood and adolescent life, Sylvi grew up in the central north of Valian. Born to a family of herders she was the only daughter of parents with three other sons. Living in a home with a bunch of rowdy kids was a lot of work for her parents, to say the least. Though most they fight and tease, Slyvi is very close to her brothers. Though girls her age would do conventional girl things, she goes out with her brothers to hunt and to raid.

Sylvi hadn't entirely escaped her parent's plans no matter how against she is of their wishes, and was pressured to commit herself to a young man of her age who was also the son of a close family friend. Though both of them were fairly good friends since childhood the idea of the union was not what they wanted for each other. Thus to avoid dishonoring their families, instead they agreed to work together, and overtime they developed a strong bond. Eventually for quite awhile they went from best friends to lovers. They soon had a son, but died just after his first winter.

With their dreams of traveling the world together, they took part in a trading business a year later, traveling through seas from one country to another. They developed friends and business partners with the pirates during their stay in the Free Isles, some welcoming them into their voyages. At one of the ships they stayed on, Sylvi took the job as the ship's cook whilst pursuing her work as a trader, right after the original cook accidentally broke both of his hands on a hard fall from the gaff.

Til one unfortunate day, their ship was caught between a battle, plenty were dead in the chaos and one of them was her life partner. Sylvi was thrown into the water by an explosive impact. As the firing ceased, while Sylvi slowly descended into the ocean, an approaching pirate ship fished her out of the water. After that grievous moment, she couldn't bring herself to come home. Lost in a new country, alone and with no coin, she instead offered undying loyalty to the pirates as her way of gratitude, living the rest of her life in the Free Isles. She became the go to woman when they needed a pair of muscles to man, or if they wanted a quality cook.


Inventory:

- Dual axe
- Pocket knife
- 100 gold pieces
- Piece of yarn, knitting needles.
- A small statuette of Tydasha
- Waterskin
- Handkerchief

[Sabotage]

---

Nᴀᴍᴇ
Fujin Ayame

Aɢᴇ
25

Sᴇx
Male

Nᴀᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟɪᴛʏ
Endeny

Cʟᴀss
Samurai (swordsman)

Pʜʏsɪᴄᴀʟ Dᴇsᴄʀɪᴘᴛɪᴏɴ
Stacked about 5'11" high, Fujin doesn't always look the most well kept. His appearance reflects upon his overall attitude: slack. He has a quite lean build due to his regular exercise and training, and maintains it in between his massive eating habits. His face is fairly chiseled, and his messy, wavy, upper-neck length dark brown hair contrasts against his olive skin tone. He has a faint mustache and soul patch which he shaves whenever he feels like. Fujin has no real defining features besides his overall messiness, and dark brown eyes.

When it comes down to what Fujin wears, he dresses light as to not bind himself down too much with heavy armor. He typically wears a light stitched shirt underneath a dark red faded, baggy, short-sleeved, unbuttoned jacket. He also wears a pair of dark grey knee-length trousers held up by a wide cotton wrap of sorts with a leather strap wrapped around it that holds his sheathe in place. To keep his messy hair out of his eyes, Fujin resorts to a grey-purple cloth that he wraps around his forehead that he usually only takes off to sleep. He keeps a pair of beat up leather shoes on his feet. They're clearly worn, but currently don't have any holes in them. He's walked a lot of miles in those shoes.

Fɪɢʜᴛɪɴɢ Sᴛʏʟᴇ
Fujin is anything but a disciplined samurai. His attacks are very disorganized and unorthodox, relying mostly on brute force and unpredictable striking instead of technique. Despite this, his skills with the katana and other variants (wakizashi, tanto, nodachi, tsurugi, etc) are very well honed and strangely hard to maneuver out of due to his quick and swift assaults he lays onto his opponents. He prefers not to use a shield unless it's his buckler as it still allows him to use his katana with two hands and parry opponents attacks. Other than that, Fujin relies on his switchblade-like movement he obtained from martial arts intellect in order to dodge incoming attacks from his foes.

Pᴇʀsᴏɴᴀʟɪᴛʏ/Mᴇɴᴛᴀʟ
Fujin could best be described as an anti-hero. He is a very laid-back person and so chill that he's quite lazy at times, and even gets condemned for it. He also has a very strong sense of individuality; so much so that he feels obligated to rely solely on himself with very little outside help if possible. Furthermore, he shows a great skepticism toward any sort of authority unless it's voluntary. Fujin generally believes that everyone should be free to do what they want. Fujin is also extremely competitive and has somewhat of a short temper. He's been known to pick fights with people for petty reasons and get himself in a lot of trouble. On top of this, he is fairly charismatic and has an elusive yet satisfying way with his words which he can use to his advantage to get what he wants. He's not so much kind as he is slick and rude on the surface, but if you take the time to get to know him, Fujin is overall an idealist and lighthearted fellow.

Hɪsᴛᴏʀʏ
Fujin was born in the country of Endeny on a small farm in a poor region east of the country's capital, Genjor. His father used to be a slave owner on a rice plantation and provided his family with a considerable wealth due to his exports until a tsunami wiped out his plantation and destroyed most of his home. With the lack of work available in the poorest country in the world, both of Fujin's parents were left without a job. Fujin was merely a baby when these events occurred, but because Endeny was prone to disastrous weather patterns, he grew up surrounded by drastic storms that would empty miles of land at a time. Much of the coastline in Endeny was tropical where Fujin and his family lived, and because where they were located wasn't very populated, they could harvest and cultivate any lush resources they found before they had to retreat in order to avoid being killed in some sort of natural disaster. His family made ends meet by travelling long distances to Genjor and selling these goods in an open market. Some days were better than others, and his family didn't always get to eat.

This led to petty thievery committed by Fujin whenever he visited the market in Genjor. He would often leave his family alone and travel there to steal things like fruit, and maybe gold from a passerby. A few times he was caught, but was small enough at his young age to tuck himself in between crowds and down alleyways where he could outrun authorities and/or angry vendors if need be.

His father was also a Ronin, though mostly retired in his training once he started his business. It was his cultural family tradition for elders to pass on their skills to their young ones. Fujin learned the art of the sword, but it wasn't easy. He often acted quite erratically which was hard to maintain even with his fathers stern yet loving authority. However, what skill Fujin did get out of it he augmented into his own strange style that typically throws his enemies off.

It wasn't until he was a teenager when something awful happened. Endeny went through a number of natural disasters and the state decided it was going to forcefully collect some of its citizens as slaves to aid the economic crisis to make up for the lack of industry. Government agents were sent out to locate and take people against their own will at all costs. Unfortunately for the Ayame family, all three of them were targeted and subsequently separated into different labor sectors by the government. Fujin only saw his parents in passing as a slave and again about a year later when a few of the slave sectors started an uprising against the same tyranny that put them in shackles. He saw both his parents die in the revolution which ultimately failed, but it spared him enough time to win his freedom and escape the labor camps. Fujin spent four years as a vagabond, traveling the world and doing odd jobs for people so he could make enough to get by. He didn't care so much for the work he was doing, even if it met indulging in criminal activity every so often.

After a while of aimlessly wandering, Fujin met with a woman named Amia, first mate of a pirate crew. They ran a number of tasks together until he was offered a position with The Valencia as their first mate. It took some time and a bit of convincing, but the pirates life was certainly growing on him so he accepted. He was somewhat reluctant, but at this point had built up so much of a relationship with Amia that he felt he was almost obliged to do so. Since then he's been with The Valencia committing piracy and living the dream. Fujin learned to sail and operate many other pieces of boating equipment. Now he hangs around the Free Isles, his favorite place anywhere, awaiting orders from the dreaded Pirate King Avoir.

Iɴᴠᴇɴᴛᴏʀʏ

• Katana
• Buckler shield
• Water skin
• Hempen rope
• 115 gold pieces
• Flint & Steel

[POOHEAD189]

Name: Galen Forthwith
Age: 26
Sex: Male
Nationality: Charta
Class: Swordsman/Duelist

Physical Description: A lean, fit, but refined man with dark hair and eyes, with a navy blue tunic over chainmail (covering leather) and loose fitting dark brown trousers. He has a fair face, albeit with a scar at the left of his chin and running down his jawline. His hair is wavy, loose and tousled. Not entirely groomed as he was raised, he still looks more or less presentable, and perhaps charming when he feels the need to present himself as such. He has the look of a youth that has been refined like silver through various trials by fire.

Fighting Style: Galen fights with a sword in a deft and dextrous dueling style. His sword whips to and fro, cutting and stabbing with a swift, practiced hand. Despite this, he's no stranger to powerful blows and brutality in his style. He wouldn't have gotten to his post without bloodying his hands with a few bludgeoning instruments and less elegant sword strokes. Sword fighting is a brutal affair, no matter how poised and quick your blade is.

However, he has quite the use for his mixture of brutal and elegant. He can pick complicated locks with one hand, while punching a man with his other hand, cracking his knuckles and barely grunting. His hands are callused and rough, useable for climbing ropes and buildings with his fine upper body strength. He has good reflexes, and can deftly move with his feet as well as his hands. His careers have been varied, from thief, to slave, to murderer, to duelist, and then pirate.

Personality/Mental: He has a good mind about him when it comes to common sense, though he can be a bit rash if he lets his anger get the better of him. Generally he has a friendly, if wary demeanor. He will sometimes spout wisdom he has learned on his travels. He's a steadfast Quartermaster, and takes his responsibilities very seriously. He'll not be afraid to use his high position in the crew to keep others in line if need be. He's often casual however, and has a love of women. What he truly wants out of life is to become an ever better swordsman, and a Knight with his own lands and title.

History: Born as the son of a nobleman in Meira, Galen grew up a relatively privileged life. Until he was twelve years old, he had received training in the art of the sword, as well as learning to read and write. The studying would have continued if his father had not been assassinated nearing his thirteenth birthday. It was something that would scar him for many years to come, and caused him to flee from his home.

He wouldn't have survived for long on his own. Ironically, what saved him was being captured for slave labor, transporting him to Ramsetta and making him a laborer and builder. The work was tough and near back breaking, and it wasn't until he was 16 years old when he killed the slave watcher and escaped to Charta City. He used the watcher's sword as a dueling sword, using his old childhood teachings and honing them by fighting for money until he was 20 years old, having lived off dueling and thieving.

He met a pirate named Grant who was a Quartermaster, selling the wares of his broken ship. He showed Galen how he made a living, and both of them traveled to the Free Isle, and Galen became a sailor and an armsmen for the next three years before he made it to quartermaster amid a pirate ship, until it sank in a storm months ago. He had been awaiting a new career until he heard of this new job.

Inventory:

• SideSword
• Dagger
• Flask
• Flint & Steel
• Waterskin
• Wetstone
• List of Weapons & Ship Supplies

[BurningCold]

- Here's some mood music

Name:
Orm the Albino

Age:
24

Sex:
Male

Nationality:
The North (Exile)

Class:
Shapeshifter

Physical Description:
Orm possesses a pleasant face, gently raised cheekbones, barely concave cheeks, and a tapered chin, his nose strong and longer than most, but certainly not intrusive. His lips curve in such a way that it seems a soft smile always graces them. His hair, short and shaggy, is a white so bright and pure that only his skin, freshly fallen snow, can seem to compare. His eyes are wary, curious things, almond shaped, with dim fires of lavenders and pale reds swirling within. A general look of dubious calm seems to surround Orm at all times, as if every event that unfolds before him is something of a pleasant surprise.

Standing at six foot three, Orm is tall but not lanky, his body put together gracefully as if sculpted from marble by some great craftsman. Though toned and not unfit, his body as a whole has a very smooth appearance to it. The only discrepancy in the grace of Orm’s form is a barely discernible limp in his right leg, a constant reminder of his youth in the North. His attire consists of a simple cotton shirt, felt pants, and leather boots, with a navy blue bridgecoat covering the outfit, topped off by a brown tricorn hat.

Fighting Style:
With his status as a shapeshifter, Orm is well suited for various situations. Stealth and infiltration are afforded to him with ease, as is open warfare, or anything in between, thanks to the wide variety of animals at his disposal. When more conventional means of combat are required, Orm is a suitable shot with firearms, being adept with both pistols and rifles.

As a secondary skillset, Orm is well acquainted to the menial task of cleaning, finding the monotony of the exercise a soothing excuse to think to himself in peace.

Known Forms

• Polar Bear
• Grey Wolf
• Arctic Wolf
• Leopard Seal
• Harbor Seal
• Field Mouse
• Horned Owl
• Barn Owl
• Carpenter Ant
• Northern Cardinal
• Earthworm
• Squirrel
• Bald Eagle
• Falcon
• Seagull
• Rat
• Moose
• Deer

Personality/Mental:
Always ready to agree with others, his own personal opinions seemingly as changing as the winds, no one has ever managed to discern what Orm’s true motivations or beliefs are. Never one to enjoy conflicts of the personal sort, Orm endeavors as best that he can to keep himself as far removed from any kind of rising tensions, and with his soft spoken voice, eerily serene tone, and agreeable nature, this is not hard to pull off.

Orm prefers to spend time by himself poring over books or as an animal, seeing and feeling the world through the senses of an entirely new species. The antics of more boisterous and excitable people has little appeal to him, and only those with a similar appreciation for study or nature have a chance to garner any kind of real friendship with him. While he can sometimes enjoy the rush that comes with a good fight, he usually loathes the act, whether it be a friendly brawl, an anger fueled duel to settle some score, or a battle against strangers to defend his home. The latter of the three, unfortunately, is rapidly becoming a driving force in Orm’s life.

History:
The owl knew it was being watched. Its talons dug firmly into the tree, swiveling its head around and giving an occasional hoot, the owl could feel that curious pair of eyes peering at it from some distance away. It decided to do a little show for its tiny audience, flapping its wings heavily and drifting over to the next tree. Swivel. Hoot. Swivel. Hoot. Hoot. Flap, flap. New tree. The pattern seemed to continue along for hours, until eventually the pair of eyes and the body attached to it went away, after the sun started to climb down the sky and slide off the edge of the horizon.

So for three months and a day the eyes would scan the wooded area for the owl, and the owl would perform for its watcher, and then one day the eyes stopped coming so often. The owl didn’t fret though, because soon after it met its twin.

Orm was never terribly close to his parents, or the other children in the tribe, instead preferring the wide freedom of the outdoors to the safety and warmth that the camp promised him. Why stay there anyways? There the younger ones gawked and pointed while the older ones muttered about curses and doomed fates, and his father paid enough attention to him to teach him how to shoot the firearms they traded with the merchants from the south in exchange for furs and meats. Orm was very good at shooting, and he hated it too. His mother dedicated herself to her other children, sparing only a choice glance or two for Orm. As for his siblings? The were the same as all of the other children.

So Orm hid himself away in the wild whenever he could, learning from the animals until he found that he himself was one of them. He flew high into the skies with the eagles, hunted for rodents and smaller birds as an owl, experienced the terror of being hunted as a deer, and the thrill of the kill as a wolf. Even the secrets of the great northern polar bears were unveiled to him in time, and soon after he was a seal, swimming the icy currents of the northern ocean as if he had his whole life. The world away from home was like a dream, until it came to pass that Orm realized it was the great outdoors that was his true home.

But as with all dreams, eventually the dreamer must wake up, and reality will face him if he does not face it.

The eldest son followed him into the woods one day, bid by their father to discover what it was that Orm busied himself with day in and day out, rather than prepare for his trial. For hours and hours he searched and he called, determined to complete his father’s task. Ludo’s sixteenth name day had already come and gone, and he was determined to prove himself worthy of the blessings bestowed upon him by Mother Gaia. It was Orm who found him.

An explanation was demanded, and Orm refused to give one. The terse conversation quickly heated into an argument, and violence followed shortly after. Orm was smaller and quicker, but Ludo was strong, and the melee between the two did not last long. Bigger, stronger, but not at all slow, Ludo easily overpowered his younger brother, beating him to a pulp, raw rage overcoming him, not for the first or last time in his life. Eventually, the onslaught stopped, and Ludo fell to his knees, panting and panting. From Orm’s position, sprawled on the ground, bruised, bloodied, and broken, his brother looked like a wolf after catching a fresh kill. He struggled to rise to his feet, his right leg buckling out from beneath him as he attempted to stand. Painfully, Orm slammed back to the ground, and still Ludo knelt there, his breath heaving, eyes glazed over and staring at some far away thing Orm could not hope to comprehend or see.

So he began to crawl, and focused all of his energy into shifting as he did, and then Orm was flying, away from Ludo, away from the camp, away from his father with his foul guns, away from his mother and her apathy, away from the curses cast his way, away from the stares and the mutterings, away from it all. Away from his past, and towards the future.

Inventory:

• Flintlock pistol
• Bayoneted Musket
• Waterskin
• Spare shot and powder
• Spyglass
• Satchel with quills, jars of ink, and a few journals

[ihinka]

Name: Kossara MacConagh /Mac to friends, Sara to family and close friends, some people have taken to calling her Doc/

Age: 36

Sex: Female

Nationality: The Reflection Isle

Class: Healer/shinobi-ninja style of combat

Physical Description:

For clothing reference... with slight changes. No quiver and arrows. Black metal gauntlets. Black metal shin guards. Comfortable boots. Optional cloak.

Outfit

Kossara stands at the almost impressive 5'5, which is considered tall for the women of Reflection Isle. Not slight by any means, she is of medium build, very athletic and fit since she's been in and out of combat training from a very young age. Her hair is the darkest shade of honey blond and a little bit of unusual colour for a native of the Reflection Isle, with the deepest midnight blue eyes. Her facial features are somewhat aristocratic, but not delicate at all. With high cheekbones and slightly square chin she is quite handsome. An almost gentle scar is bisecting her chin, almost reaching bellow the lip. Her eyes carry a sadness that seems to pull back when she's caring for her patients and helping people. Then they take on a light that is almost enchanting with its healing warmth. Her back is riddled with whip scars with tendrils reaching the front of her shoulders and chest. She also has a prominent long and thick scar bisecting her stomach from bellow her waistline up to her sternum.

Fighting Style: Originally trained in the Reflection Isle's royal fighting style with a short sword, horseback riding, archery. Later on she adopts and masters the shinobi style of combat, using ninjato instead of katana, a tanto knife and kunai daggers as well as unarmed fighting styles. Also very proficient in stealth techniques.

Personality/Mental: Kossara was a boisterous happy child. Her homeland having resisted the conquering efforts of the Mar Empire was relatively safe and she was spared the hardships of war. Although being the daughter of the personal physician to the Lady of Reflection Isle, she did witness her fair share of gruesome battle injuries. Her childhood was spent learning the medicine arts from her mother and roughhousing with the Lady's children. She grew up into a caring and care giving young woman, determined to set wrongs right, cure illnesses, help people. Her later years and a very traumatic experience changed her but didn't manage to rid her of her innate goodness and desire to heal. On the contrary, it made her even more driven. Still she became more settled, lest boisterous, sometimes even withdrawn, pensive and prone to long hours of meditation and reflection. She is never the less ready to drop everything else and rush to offer help or support. She is not against combat and fighting, although she does prefer to disable her opponents without doing too much harm if at all possible.

History

History: Kossara was born to mother Elia Ronnon and father Drak MacConagh. Her mother was the personal physician to the Lady of Reflection Isle and her father was the head of the royal guard. Sara loved her parents dearly. They were gentle and loving and also loved each other very much. At a very young age Kossara expressed interest in learning her mother's trade and began apprenticing as a healer. While her father instructed her in the arts of combat together with the young Lady and Lord.

Her close to idyllic childhood was shattered one day when her father and mother went out with the royal family on official business. During the trip an attempt was made on the life of the royal family and her father had given his life to protect his charges and assure that they made it all safe back home.

Her mother was desolate after the loss of her mate, but her unendless love for her child inspired her to be strong and continue on. Although she became more concerned with her daughter's safety and insisted she train even harder in combat to be able to protect herself should the need ever arise. And while severely damaged, their little family recovered with the help and support of the Lady and her children, with whom Sara was as close as brother and sister.

Kossara grew into a little less boisterous young woman and around that time her mother began to notice a shift in her daughter's affection towards the young Lady of the Isle. True, the girls were always close, but Elia had started noticing the lingering looks full of longing and not a small amount of lust her daughter was directing at the young Lady. Not particularly worried that her daughter was lusting after another girl, her mother was more worried of the official difficulties this might pose for the royal family. A tryst with the daughter of the royal physician might not be too frowned upon, but it still might throw a shadow over the royal name and her daughter would most definitely get hurt in the process.

So trying for an out of sight out of mind solution her mother decided to send her daughter as an apprentice of one of the most prominent royal healers serving on one of the Isle's merchant ships. Not simply to put some distance between Kossara and the object of her affection/lust, but also to garner more experience in practicing emergency and field medicine.

Kossara didn't object. She was eager to learn new ways to treat wounds and care for patients in the field, without the security of a fully equipped royal hospital. She did pout a little that she wouldn't be able to spend more time with her love interest.

Elia didn't know she would regret her decision to send her daughter away even under the guise of the very reasonable excuse to accumulate more experience as a physician.

At nineteen years of age the young apprentice healer set sail with one of the Isle's merchant ships and began an exciting new adventure. She loved working on the ship, relished the constraints of field medicine and how it spurred her to discover and learn new methods of healing and treating patients. Her teacher who sailed far and wide had picked up a very diverse knowledge in medicine, including some methods her mother never used. He dared not teach her those as per her mother's instructions. For as loving and open-minded as she was with her child and her preferences, she could be quite rigid when it came to medicine and the correct way to practice it. Still Kossara was smart and very observant and managed to learn this and that. Some herbal remedies. Often times she would witness Rom, her healer teacher, treat patients in a very strange way by sticking needles in them.

Life on the ship was fun and rewarding even devoid of the luxuries she'd had on the Isle. Whenever the ship would return ashore, she would spend time with her mother. Study with her, tell her of all the new things she was learning, taking care not to mention any of the more unorthodox methods. Spending time with her childhood friends, the young Lady and Lord. And though with time she did grow out of love, or rather lust, with the young Lady of the Isle, like her mother had hoped, she never really grew out of love with the ladies. And one eventful night, at twenty-two, when their ship was docked at port in Vernon, she had a rather fateful encounter with a very, very... very willing young bar wench to whom she didn't quite manage to lose her virginity, but did manage to walk happily away with very enjoyable new experiences.

Three years later it all went to hell. On the way back from Viny their ship was attacked by slavers who killed whoever resisted and kept alive everyone who would be of any value as a slave. The slavers were particularly happy to get two royally trained healers for the price of one. Rom was quickly sold off and Kossara never saw him again. Her, however the slavers decided to keep for themselves aboard the ship. Day in and day out she was forced to tend to the slavers whenever they were heart during raids, cure illnesses unrelated to combat. The art, the gift of healing was slowly but surely perverted and darkened by the monsters she was forced to care for. Although she was carefully watched whenever she would treat a crew-mate, she yearned to sink her tools in the soft exposed and vulnerable spots and finish him or her off, rather than patch them up. And later she would wretch and heave, repulsed by her vicious thoughts and desires.

But the worst was yet to come. At one point one of the slavers decided her knowledge of anatomy would serve them well as a torture tool for the slaves in an effort to persuade them to be more cooperative.

Kossara would refuse each and every time. She would not have her gift darken even further by those slaver bastards. She would rather die first. But she was too valuable to dispatch so the slavers chose to punish her every time she wouldn't cooperate. They would whip her. Beat her. Torture her. They dared not sexually abuse her out of fear it would damage her too much to function. After each punishment she was left to tend to her own healing with little to no materials and supplies.

One night after a particularly vicious beating and whipping she lay half dead on the floor of the sick bay mustering her strength to rise and tend to her wounds. She needed to clean herself and dress the wounds before infection could set in. At first she thought the violent shaking of the ship was due to her weakened state, but she quickly realized the tossing was due to a vicious storm.

Suddenly there was a loud roar, the ship heaved, there was a thunderous crack and she was floating in the bosom of Semelle, Goddess of Thoughts and Freedom.

She woke up disoriented. She was in a bed, in a small room. It was light outside. She ached all over, she was shivering violently even though she was covered generously with blankets. She tried to sit up when a quiet gentle accented voice dissuaded her. "Please, do not move. You are very weak and very ill. Keep your strength, you will need it to heal." The voice lulled her back to sleep and she soon drifted off.

She was bedridden for nearly a month. With the fever coming and going trying relentlessly to finish her off. She was barely conscious during this time. Later, when she was able to stay awake and aware for more than a minute she learned that a traveling shinobi healer had rescued her and brought her to her village deep within the countryside of Endeny. There she stayed, lived and trained with Samira, the healer who had rescued her in the eastern art of healing with herbs, acupuncture, acupressure, meditation and connection to the inner self and spirit. She also trained in the shinobi traditional style of combat.

She yearned to go back to her mother. Assure her she was alive. But she felt disconnected. Almost unworthy of being Elia's daughter. She felt tainted and dirtied by what she had done while under the boot of the slavers. It took the love and devotion of Samira and nearly seven years for Kossara to feel worthy of herself. She was content with her life in the village. She and Samira loved each other and traveled together as migrant healers offering medical care in the more remote locations in Endeny for three more years. Life was good and Kossara began to entertain the thought of returning to her mother. Even after nearly ten years she knew her mother would be overjoyed to know she is alive. She and Samira were all set to leave, when Samira got violently ill and try as she might Kossara was unable to save her.

Desolate Sara set out for the Reflection Isle to seek out her mother of whom she had no news. If she had mourned her death, or if she still hoped beyond hope that her girl was still alive somewhere.

When she arrived at Reflection Isle she experienced a brief sense of coming home, which quickly faded. Although she loved Reflection Isle dearly, it wasn't her home anymore. Samira was. But Samira was gone. All she had now was her mother. The mother she'd left thinking her only daughter was dead. She'd acquired about Elia as soon as she'd made port. She knew her mother was, thankfully, still alive and still serving as the head physician to the Lady of the Isle. Although people told her she was never the same after her daughter was lost at sea when her ship was attacked by slavers on the way back to the Isle.

Mother and daughter reunion wasn't easy. However slowly, but surely the two started to make their way into each other's hearts again.

Inventory:
Ninjato
Tanto
Six Kunai
Acupuncture needles set
Small healer's bag
Water skin
Purse with coin
Cloak