The Outcast

Karinya was born of poor circumstance. Fathered by evil into the hands of goodness, she was scorned, beaten, and misunderstood though all of her childhood, as well as her early adulthood. The stain of Elven blood that ran through her, with little explaination, seemed to be her greatest fault and merit at once. Raised for the early part of her life in Solace, Karinya's mother was a minstral, and quite a beautiful woman. However, only the stories of such remained with Karina, and the only things she saw of her mother was sickness, weakness, and a longing for death. Her mother took to her as a child, but only as a child placed in unwanted hands. Her mother's constant suiters would casually insult, beat, and rape the child even to her crest of adult-hood. The house was always full of people, and as such, she would hide away in the cellar, praying that no one would come to look for new bottle of wine. Curled up on a blanket in the damp coolness, she'd dream of the stories of Demea's seaport, the hills of the Mount Rainer, and so many other, far away places that her mother would sing about. Once, during such a party, a man did wander down into the basement cellar, drunk on ale and dressed in a tunic of faith. One glance at the small child huddled into the corner brought a growl to his lips. Assuming he would think that she was a squatter, she flowed excuses to him to explain that she was the daughter of the mother of the house. However, with such purity and devotion to faith that her mother showed to the city so openly, he was hardly content with her words. Over the next minutes, hours or days - for Karinya's mind was wraught with pain too much to make an example of time - he defiled her repeatedly, marking her forever as an outcast from the nobility of her family, though her skin color and ears did that well enough on their own. First, his fists struck the small child, followed by a knee to the chest. Hardly moving, she could not resist from exhaustion as he continued. "No man that fears those touches of evil shall ever wed you. You will not survive that long." With this, the finger of marriage from her left hand was removed with a sharp blade, wrapped in linen and left to bleed on it's own. "No circle of affection will touch those tainted hands, for you, just as your father, don't even know what the words faith or faithfulness mean. I will not see this woman hurt by her own flesh of the devil." In what Karinya assumed to be the next morning, she awoke with a fire in her whole body, screaming out in pain from fever. Her mother's hand was on her forehead holding down a wet cloth to the child's head. It hurt too much to open her eyes, but she knew that she was dying, or maybe passing at that very second. Ill begotten, her mother's voice reached her, as well as a hand stroking her hair, while the voice continued in a sing-song way, "So much like your father, my lovely reminder of darker times here and my youth. You will never leave me. Never. I could not bare it, even with such horror as seeing your stained skin brings me. I'm not strong enough, dark one. Not strong enough. I wasn't then, and I am more weak with age and regret than I was even in darker times. And though it took days, or weeks for the child to find the strength to sit, stand, and walk, she did...

The Pilferer

Traveling alone has it's benefits and weaknesses, as the child was soon to learn. A single mouth to feed brings the lighter side of homelessness, having to steal only bits of sustenance to keep the muscles tight and legs steady. However, stealing without proper training managed to show the darker side of a life on the streets in a proper fashion quite early in her travels. Shying away from the very large cities like Seringale and Timaran means that in order to keep hidden, the thief has to stay themselves with a little greed as possible. But, for a child used to a plate of pickings four times daily, this oath is nearly impossible. Within the first year of poverty, Karinya had already fallen thin and discouraged with what she was able to take for herself in food and dressings. The older merchants were easier to convince, only having to stand at the side of their shops and carts with a pout, so that they would give their scraps to the child. Some would offer cots and baths, though she was never trusting enough to except, and easily captured sickness and disease from sleeping in the city streets. One night, months after leaving her mother, while curled up, coughing into her sleeve, Karinya felt a hand against her shoulder. Now, despite the sickness, her reflexes were caught in a moment of fear, bringing a dagger from her belt to the open air above her in a futile and rabid stroke to protect herself, but it struck air at the same moment as a sharp hand struck her wrist. The knife toppled to the dirt without nearly a sound except for the soft snicker of the hand that now held her tightly. If only you weren't too weak to hold it, half-breed, the voice rang as loud as the fear that drummed in her ears. The conjunctivitis that threatened her eyes and nose, however, made it impossible to discern anything about the lofty voice aside from the smooth, male tone that fell towards her prone form. Feeling something wet against her lips, she had no choice but to give in as she felt the clean water running over her tongue as the touch of wood settled against her infected bottom lip. "Don't tell me I have to swallow for you, as well", the voice chimed, dangerously close to her ear. But now, the fright and sickness caught up to her body, making her fell heavier and sinking as she lost consciousness with the understanding that she might not wake. Kindness came with a price, and not even water was free. The burning in her throat even as the water penetrated made her wish

The Apprentice

Waking on a bed of soft linens and silks is something that most would enjoy... Unless then bed was somewhere unfamiliar and dark. However, the strength had not returned to Karinya's limbs quite fast enough to make any display of fear. Even with eyes open, little could be seen of the room except for the poor shape of the rafters, the straw stuffed into gaps in the roof, and the sour smell of animals close by. Her chest clutched and caught as she tried to pull in a deep breath, the smell enough to make her vomit if only she'd had anything in her stomach to lose. The only energy she could muster was to release a groan of displeasure into the still air of the room, and so little energy was to be had that the sound barely reached her own ears. However, it was clear with the shifting of fabrics and straw that there was another who had heard it, despite the whispered cry. "Ah, finally awake, Karinya", the man's voice was as smooth as it was when he'd given her water, and there was no mistaking the timber. "I was thinking that once your color came back that you would wake, but a few nights here and we've had quite a scare, haven't we?" She could barely discern the outline of his hand as it touched her forehead, and she could do little to resist aside from turn her face away. "You're familiar to me?" She managed out in a whisper, but the fever had cracked her lips so badly that she tasted blood. The next taste was a wet cloth, and he'd not answered. Repeating herself, she ignored the pain in her throat and under her tongue as the fresh water drown her words and made her chest jump with coughing. "Hush, half-breed, hush. You spoke your name in your sleep, but I shall forget it if you'd like, but as I saved your bloody life, I suggest you just hush, as I said, and drink. You've a long way to go before you can walk out of here, so there's no reason to fight it." "Your name..." Her lips parted again before the cold water flushed down into her throat, washing away the taste in her mouth that was making her so dizzy. "A friend, my child. That's what you can call me. Now rest." She closed her eyes, falling asleep abruptly, unaware of her "soon to be" future...

The Shadowmagus

Upon awakening for the seventh time within a month, Karinya was feeling stronger and a little more steady than she had since her first days fleeing from her home. The weeks that followed yielded getting to know her savior, as it were, the man who she'd not seen well enough to form impression before the one day that he returned. "Half-breed, you're awake!" He nearly exclaimed as he came through the door, and as she turned around to face him from her position of rest on her mat, her stomach heaved. Taller than most she'd met, his skin was dark as coal. It was if his bloodline touched hers so deeply that her throat burned with need for air away from him, but she couldn't pull herself to move. "You're-you're drow-kind..." As soon as she said it, she realized how foolish the remark sounded falling from her gasping lips, and more so as he raised a slender, ebony brow. "I am?" He chuckled, looking down at his clothing, brushing his hands against his vest, "I hadn't noticed. Thank you." And from this, her thoughts of her Paternal heritage sank from her veins onto the floor of the small cottage, clearing her mind for the first time in years. When he didn't seem offended, her own racist nature creeped to the back of her mind like a scolded child, sinking nearly to the pit of her stomach. "I-... I didn't mean to be rude, it's just that..." The words caught in her throat again, from lack of water or confusion she couldn't have known. "I, my dear half-breed, saved your life. Now, you're free to stay or go." A year later, when she'd quite decided to stay, her whole perception was flipped and twist from her childhood. While not a member of the Halls of Warlords, the unknown savior had hard consequences when it came to those of magical persuasion. Not only were they not to be trusted or befriended, they were not even strong enough to be the tools of such people as himself. However, she also learned the follies of those that sought out huts in the muddy fields near the anti-magical alters. Their parity had blinded them so much that they allowed these magi to escape into the furthest reaches of Serin, where they could practice and become stronger. Why allow a foe to escape, magi or not, if with more arms they would be incapable? Karinya, however, found shadow magic quite interesting. Why shy from magic when it was available to all? To this day, despite the pull of her mentor - long dead from influenza - Karinya desires to have taken upon the training of shadow magic herself... Though would never admit it, for if she were such a creature, the mysterious drow would have never saved her life or given up years of his providing for her. So now, in the middle years of her life, Karinya toys with shadow magic as a tool alone, or an escape. Upon his death bed, the drow granted Karinya with one ode that would stick with her past her own grave, and give her strength to release her bitterness for her own curiosity. Magic works upon magic, he told her, and once those magi that produce magical devices and potions are quite gone and dead from the lands of Serin, so too will their creations. Utilizing their own toys to pull them into extinction is something to be taken very heavily and weighed upon the mind. However, they were quick to agree upon, without the sights of magic.

The Assassin

Despite the youth that forms her ideals, Karinya kept in restraint when it came to shadow arts of any nature for a number of years. However, the lure of power and easy access became too much for the child to resist. Starting with the obvious perks of a invisibility, and that of escape, she fell into traveling with few disciples here and there when no others could be found and advancement was of importance. This, however, grew into a more easily accepted form of art and the travels of shadow disciples at her side out of convenience and power. Also, this is how she met Kala. He was just a child at the time, at least half her age as far as humans go. Everything he stood for was the opposite of everything she'd come to know. A Seeker of the Balance, as well as a shadow warrior himself, his kindness was unabashed and unapologized for in a manner that Karinya had never encountered. Years passed slowly in turmoil of her creeping desire to find the reasons for Istalin's calling. Then, easily as a breath comes, so did the attraction that started showing itself when this man traveled at her side. His father slain when the human was at a early age, his story seems an anchored opposite to her own, though the only common grounds were guild and sadness. Then, nearly a decade later, after uneasy friendship and unbound travels, Karinya's heart grew only more sick with her obvious attraction and how all her lessons threw her on the straight other way. However, a heart can only be denied for so long before the pull makes a person question why they resist so completely, and it took three decades for her heart to settle with magic of deception instead of against it. At this point, nearly forty years after their first meeting, Antar proposed marriage and was gladly accepted into the arms of the half-drow that once pledged to be non abiding when it came to the use of such tricks. Days later, when Karinya was supposed to meet her future partner in the Temple of Elder Gods, he was nowhere to be found. Trying to contain her mixed emotions of rage, fear, sadness, despair and sorrow, she reached out to the darkest depths of shadow magic in order to locate her loved one. She ventured to the Altar of Zylenier, hoping she would be worthy enough for the Shadow Lord's grace, knowing it was her last and only chance to find out what happened to Antar, the human she was supposed to wed. Several years passed, but Karinya never gave up on her search. She often found herself gazing at the stars, wondering if it truly is her destiny to be alone and never to be wed or maybe the man who cut her fingers as a child unknowingly laid a path for her future. She trained with the finest warriors in Serin, day and night she kept her body and mind busy with combat, knowing that in order to keep the favor of Shadow Lord, she must prove herself worthy enough both in magic and battle. Her dark-elven heritage became more and more obvious during her years of carrying out contracted kills and cold-blooded murder of those who confronted her. Karinya's life had become everything that her loved one was steering her away from. She had become a masterful assassin, utilizing both shadow arts and combat prowess to make a living and cope with her broken heart and dreams. During the night, she would stare at the stars and dream of better life, a life without violence, a life with Antar. But she knew in her heart that these dreams will never be fulfilled, for her destiny was set in stone long time ago and whatever she did made no difference whatsoever... Thus ends the next thoughts of the story of Karinya to live for the world of Serin and the pace that keeps such stories from being written. God's bless this tale, though desire grants that it will not be added to for many, many years to come.