Name: Ravenna Perennial
Race: Not decided.
Age: 31
Rank: Theroshan
Clan: Dyma
Background and Description: Born in utter disgrace and filth on the gutter of one of the main cities. Scarred at birth, an ominous presence was evolving. Living under the minimum of known existence. When age came along, the abuse became harder. Violated by the affinity she was supposed to hold so dear. No name was given, only addressing her with words of profanity. The so called father didn't only violate and ruptured veins of misfortune in her, a total neglectance was present all the time. The image of her mother wasn't better. A rain of battery and was the everyday bread in this small cottage. The blood from her painted the canvas which was the house.Sometimes on nights, when twilight obscured peoples sight she ran out. Building bridges with meaningless words. Building sandcastles just to see it wither away. So was her nights. Each night when she ran out was a clandestine hope for death. Though, that night never came. Sometimes it felt that it would be easer to fall that flutter in the air with these wings so week and torn.Sometimes it feels it would be easier to cease or never been born at all. Night time come at last. Something was growing…
At the age of seventeen, she escaped the grasp of chaff and malice. At the gates of the royal army she stood in white clad disgusting mess. Knees scarred, as her birth, and how she did plea for being taken in to their humble embrace. So came the days. She was trained to protect her fellow comrades and reek havoc upon the enemies with mighty halberds, tridents and polearms. As she progressed and excelled over all others in her group, she evolved into mastering her long weapons and focusing on that. The trades of protecting others was there, but, not at heart. Days became weeks, weeks became months, and finally the years stared to take it's toll. Everyday she was reminded to praise the invisible God. All she saw was air which people polluted with their turncoat tounges and ravenous intent. She obeyed no God. No, she followed the leader which earn her respect. The aim of her life was the total annihilation and obliteration against people who sought aghast upon her and the kindred souls which she cared about. A simple and malicious goal. On her spare time she was alone, didn't talk to anyone unless spoken to. She didn't meet any friends, though she talked to people when needed. An seemingless empty gaze she had while walking about the shady streets. Baggers and blackhanded thiefs who tried to inflict harm upon her often met a gruesome end. The gates where open. The training was done.
With pumping guile and mischief and armed with nothing she went out to see whatever was for her.
Agile and lithe, for her muscular body, she fled the stronghold and strived out her new destiny.
Then again, destiny wasn't in her vocabulary, no, she called it coincidence and serendipity. Tabula rasa, the book has just begun..
