Appearance

Physical Description

Overly strong, completely buff and toned. Muscles out the wozu.

Facial Features

A round race with wide eyes and a scar over her left one. A smaller nose, and thinner lips.

Identifying Characteristics

She has a Slave identification Tattoo on the back of her neck, #789316. She has tried to both cover it and remove it but it is magically imbued in the skin so her status as a slave will always be recognizable.

Specialized Equipment

She is a master in hand to hand combat, as well as with a large great sword. Her knowledge of anatomy and medicine is impressive, and she is also quite the artist, though not many people ever see that side of her.

Mentality

Personal history

Kesari was born in a small town in Gra Uje, near the southern border on the edge of Ealdora. There was little interesting that happened there, only that the time spent there was one of the few she spent happily.



On her 6th birthday, all that went away. They came with fire. they came and they burned. She still remembers the screams, the chaos, her home going up in smoke. Children were snatched up by masked soldiers in black armor, shrieking mothers tossed into burning houses right before the roof caved in with a flurry of sparks rising on a black sky. The air was thick, the ground wet with blood. She tried to run, slipping between horses legs fearlessly as she fled, only to be snatched up by a passing horseman. She screamed and kicked, only falling still when given a hefty blow to the head. She faded from consciousness, her village in flames burned into her mind.



She and a few other children pulled from the ashes traveled with the soldiers for days, earning blows when they cried or asked too many questions. Kesari quieted quickly, learning her lessons much quicker than most of the others. She found comfort with a boy, one she only remembers calling Ani. They were not the eldest, but several of their captors said they showed the most potential, had the greatest chance of survival. She also heard some remark on her looks, and the quickness of her obedience and their lack of money to buy supplies for the journey home. There were whispers that if things did not improve, some of the children would have to die. Thankfully their problems would soon be solved.



The little group came upon a traveling merchant selling slaves at discounted prices to rich Northerners. After some haggling and a little reluctance on their captors part, Kesari and 2 other children were sold for 100 gold. She bid goodbye with little heartbreak, keeping her face passive. She did regret leaving Ani, but crying out for him would only make it worse for both of them.



With these slavers she learned many important skills, like keeping her footsteps quiet, and how to keep utterly still when people poked and prodded. Unfortunately, she never did learn how to keep her mouth shut and so she was always sporting a new bruise somewhere. They traveled south, making it all the way down to the WaterHorsian coast.



She was sold quickly to a rich landowner dabbling in the fighting scene. She worked as a simple servant, cleaning the house and caring for his animals. She also developed a relationship with his champion Orc Fighter Okrbrn, although she only called him Bren.



he daughter her how to defend herself, how to stand up for what she thought and not let anyone hurt her. In return, she bandaged his wounds and kept him company during the long hours of waiting, and she even helped him train for his next fights. Their owner noticed their connection and officially assigned her to him, making it her job to keep him comfortable and alive.



She thrived in this position, surrounded by other fighters that all did their best to protect her and make her prepared for the harsh truth of her own life. By the time she was 12 she knew most of the fighters by name, and how to care for wounds. in this crowd her unchecked mouth was not a problem, her rude comments encouraged, the firm belief that this life was wrong validated and protected. They all gave her the ability to protect herself. But Fighters died often, and such was Bren's fate. He was slain in the final round, going out in glory and with honor. Her owner saw no need to keep her with Bren gone since he did not plan to buy another fighter so he donated her to The Ring.



She then performed the same job but for many fighters, all who treated her with respect and care. Fighters came and left, her hands growing deft with setting all sorts of broken bones and stitching up wounds. They still taught her fighting technique, much to her own pleasure, just in case. This training came into good use within the next 4 years.



When she turned 16, The Ring owners implemented faux fights, where they send in a simple serving slave to be mindlessly slaughtered by a fighter. She just happened to be a prime candidate. During one of the larger fights of the year, she is hauled from her duties and thrust out into the arena with a blood-stained Dragonborn who taught her how to do a roundhouse kick. There is a moment of confusion for both of them before the realization hits them like a hammer. They intend for him to slaughter her, and there is nothing they can do. She had watched fights for long enough to know to refuse would mean death for both of them. There is a moment of understanding between them before they slip into fighting stances. She prays to whatever deity would listen that she remembers enough fo what they all taught her to at least not die in pain. Behind her, in the barracks, there are large cries of protest.



With a deep breath, the Dragonborn lunges, arcing wide with regret written on his face. SHe doges quickly, dancing limberly out of the way before attempting to knock his feet out from under him. He stumbles but uses his momentum to twist and backhand her. She stumbles, thrown the ground by the force of the blow. She spit up blood, the metallic taste not foreign on her tongue. Before he could strike again she rolled her her feet, scrambling away quickly. The crowd roared, wanting nothing more than blood and death. She spun and faced him, shooting out 3 quick blows. Two to the face that he easily blocked and one too the fresh would she patched up not 30 minutes ago. It was a low blow, but necessary. He groaned, staggering back and the sheer strength in her strikes. At the moment it took to gain back his resolve she spun and slammed her heel into his temple, snapping it to the side and sending him to the ground. He did not rise again.



She and Yiphal, the Dragonborn, were pulled from the arena, making room for two other, real fighters to go at it. the crowd roared again, but Kesari could hardly hear it over the roar in her ears. Thankfully Yiphal was not dead, only knocked out. the other fighters tended to him, and her, whispering praise and reassuring phrases to her as she wandered distantly in her mind. Somewhere deep in her soul she knew had the kick been any harder it would have snapped his neck. She was distant for the next couple of days, living in her own haze. she still did her job, patching up the other fighters but her hands shook. The others taught her more, some delving into the more lethal methods before she fled to go do other things. She was called forth to fight more often, and she kept winning.



Before long a name was made for her: The Lion. After a year of intermittent fights, the guards came and pulled her from the Barracks rather roughly, slapping her when she spoke. She was pulled into one of the spectator booths and forced to her knees in front of a well dressed Elf and the Manager of the house fighters. her inspected her, checking her teeth, her eyes, her muscles before declaring her suitable and passing over a bag of gold. She was then bound for transit and loaded into the back of a large, ornate carriage. Lord Theodas Kemaris, the guards told her as the bound her in place, was not a patient man. He was a proud landowner and silk merchant with connections all over the Lands east of the Nott Ridge. She did not look forward to his service.



However life with him was not as bad as she could have imagined. He was brutal, yes, but as long as she won her fights and didn't bring attention to herself he was manageable. He set up to teach her proper fighting, as well as working with certain weapons like hand axes and a great sword. Under his teaching, her fame grew. She rose through the ranks, eventually landing among the top ten fighters in the south, known for being brutal and swift. Her knowledge of her opponents' physiology was terrifying, and she always knew where to strike to cause the most pain. She became the Prized possession of The Lord, a thing to be displayed as a symbol of power. On the rare moments, she was in the barracks during the fights, she heard rumors of the Ice Queen, of heroes in the north, and of her disappearance. Lord Theodas grew tense and had even more meetings with foreign dignitaries and leaders, making connections.



They ventured up north, passing land that soon began to bring forward old memories, memories of trees and songs, and carved letters on thin branches. Memories she had held on too in her darkest hours. after weeks of travel, they arrived at a large castle made out of black stone, looming over them on grey skies. Theodas mumbled about the drama and foreboding nature of Grakwi, The Black Castle.



Entrance was nothing special, a small fanfare with little jubilation. Their caravan was escorted by men and women in black armor, almost as if it were stained by blood and ash and smoke. Lord Theodas was escorted inside by a thin man wearing an iron crown and a cruel smile. He was youthful enough but held an evil look about him, like something dead rotting deep in the forest. She was bound and secured in the center of the courtyard and a very familiar way. The thin bars between her and the circling Zchecnu warriors did little to calm the fear clawing at her stomach. Some spoke, tossing out insults and questions she easily ignored, but most just sat and watched, sharpening their weapons and grinding their teeth. A bell rang and they left, threading inside, leaving Kesari alone. She stayed that way for the rest of the night, bound in her cage. hunger clawed at her but that was nothing new. The cold leeched the heat from her body but again, nothing new. None of this was new, not this experience, not this cage, not the people staring at her from the outside, watching her with mild interest like a caged animal.



Morning came much too late, but food did not come with it. Instead, she was pulled from the cage and handed a knife. A circle of Zchecnu crowded around her, forming a cage around her. Another stepped forward with a grin, wielding his own knife. They fought for a bit until she drew blood. He backed out and another took his place, a girl this time. They fought as well and Kesari came out on top. The others cheered and howled, shoving each other and shoving the fighters forward when the got too near the edge. This continued for a while until one soldier raked his blade down her forearm, drawing blood. The pain was dull, though lost as they pulled the place from her hands and shoved her back in the cage, tossing in some food and bandages as well. She quietly bandaged herself and ate her food, leaving the plate in the same place it was originally put. Then she waited. And waited. Nothing changed. Night came much too slowly, and dawn came even slower. The next morning the same thing happened. She was pulled out her cage, handed a knife, and forced to fight till first blood other challengers. She held out longer this time, though one eventually did draw blood, on her neck this time. She was pushed back into her cage, handed food and bandages, and left alone. She just caught the two men, the one with the cruel grin and Lord Theodas, turning and leaving, deep in discussion, a young soldier with bright red hair trailing behind. their eyes caught for a moment before he turned away, taking a series of memories with him.



throughout the day, once again, they jeered at her, asking mocking questions and insulting her very existence. Soon enough all the training she had instilled upon her self to keep her mouth shut was thrown out the window. She cursed at them, responding to their jeers with insults over her own, promising threats and pain. Some laughed, Some twisted up in anger and stormed away.



That evening she really wished she had kept her mouth shut. Torches were lit and the Two main men stepped out into the courtyard, flanked by at least 10 men. One whispered something into the cruel man's ear. He watched with interest and posed a question to Theodas. There was a moment where the Red-haired boy looked outraged and appalled before quickly schooling his features into practiced neutrality. Theodas gave an affirmative gesture and the Man who whispered the idea took on a wolfish grin and pushed his way forward, trailing the others behind him. Her stomach dropped, not seeing this going in any good direction. Hands made swift work of the lock and began grabbing her, yanking her out of the cage, twisting her arms behind her, and binding them in chains. Her feet were similarly chained when she was forced to her knees in the center of the group, all of them swarming around her like wolves. She didn't see the first blow until is slammed into her cheek, easily cracking her jaw. She flung to the side, only to be slammed again with a fist. Something connected with her stomach and she doubled over only for a heel to crack into her back. She slipped to the side again, only to be pulled up by her hair while others wailed on her. Faces swam in front of her, black creating on the edge of her vision. There was laughing, then screaming, outraged and painfilled the hands pulled back and she fell to the ground, broken and bleeding. as she tattered on the edge of consciousness she saw the boy with the red hair slipping to stand in front of her, knocking one of the others to the side, then she slipped into darkness.



Kesari awoke to gentle fingers prodding her face. She swung, adrenalin coursing through her body and her last moments still fresh and hazy in her sleep-addled mind, and connected with the soft tissue of the cheek. She forced herself up to get into a more defendable position, ignoring how her entire body screamed and turned to face the person in front of her, only to find the boy with the red hair crouching with his hands up in surrender. Her eyes were immediately drawn to his black eye and the growing bruise on his lower jaw.



"Hey, it's ok." He said, hands still up but pointing to the gause he was holding. She eyed him warily, scooting back a little bit. "I'm just trying to treat your wounds. What they were doing..."He stopped and lowered his hands, "I couldn't allow it anymore. I got us out." He paused and hesitantly held out his hand. "I'm Anekin. What's your name?" She eyed his hand, then looked back at his face making blatenet eye contact. she let that sit for a moment before reaching out and taking his hand.



"I'm Kesari."

person.sexuality

more open to things than you might think, but she is currently in a relationship with Anekin so she hasn't given it much thought.

Known Languages

She only knows Common, but she wants to learn more desperately. Though Anekin says she should learn how to read first since she was never taught.

Personality

Social

Birthplace

Simthra