The Fuzz
Staberinde
Name:
Age: 22
Sex: Female
Nationality: Kelenite
Social Status: Nobility, outcast.
Profession/Occupation: Vampire slayer and hypocrite.
Vice: Brooding over the wrong turns in her life, resentment boiling to anger. Fury and paranoia lead to flawed decisions.
Pride: Her martial skill, the lives she has saved.
Regrets: Abandoning her duty and family, the life she leaves behind. (Never bearing a child while she was mortal.)
Fears: Having her will taken away, having her fate decided for her. Finding that there is no place in the world for her to exist as her own woman. (More recently, spiders.)
Hopes: To be, if not perfectly free, then in control of her own life. If she must have a master, it will be of her own choosing. Expressed simply; to make this worth it.
The women of House Karst are known for their needlework. After all, keeping the stitches small helps the wound heal nicely. Growing up in the border keep of her House, Arrela witnessed death with a cool eye even from an early age. Never once did she doubt that she in turn would do her duty. None knew that the pale, solemn little girl standing vigil over the silent body of her eldest brother would, in time, become one of the deadliest warriors her House had ever produced. It is better now that her family believe her dead than to know that she has turned her face, in rage and despair, from her duty.
A little over two years ago, Arrela was sent to summer at the Kain estates, almost on the other side of Kelen. It was decided that a little time spent visiting with a less purely martial House would be helpful before traveling to the capital. For all that the season was meant to give her practice for being a gracious guest, it has instead robbed her from her family.
Something terrible happened to her at the Kain estates.
Fleeing into the night, her blood boiling inside her, fury and terror drove Arrela to ride north. She hadn't known about Kain. No-one had, and yet, others had visited his estates and come away speaking nothing but praise. She had no way of knowing whom he had reached. Betrayal and gnawing paranoia drove her further and further from home. Hunger and rage drove her to hunt and fight.
After a year of solitude, she found herself in an isolated town in the mountains between Kelen and Hrothgard, trapped by the walls of snow filling the pass. For the first time in months, she could stop, think, consider, and share the company of others, companions but not friends. She slew monsters, earned the trust of others, wrested ancient weapons from where they were better left untouched, argued and fought and reconciled.
From there, between episodes of violence, Arrela rebuilt her understanding of the world from the rubble left behind. The magus is a dangerous heretic....and a healer, and a warrior, and the closest thing to a friend she has left. The winter beasts are terrible and ravenous....and potentially innocent, animals built of wind and stone. She herself is a broken woman, an outcast on the path to being a monster...and she is worthy.
Traveling further north, her thoughts churning with every step she took, she continued to see the clues before her. In Hrothgard, for the first time, she spared a vampire, and listened, and exacted a promise. With desperate, brutal strength, bought at the price of yet more of her dwindling humanity, she saved the monk Retribution from death, knowing that if he could rise and fight, he would strike for her.
It is time.
Arrela rides south, to the Black Forest.
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