Zaishalla was born to Amithralas and Tinithiel on the 4^th of May in the year 474. She was born in an Elven kingdom far from the lands of Dylarria. Her parents were merchants and it was long thought that Zaisha would follow in the family trade. All that changed when she met Mathurin Delaros, an aspiring Celestial templar, in her 97^th year. They fell in love and began courting. Mathurin, however, was not the only one with an interest in Zaisha. Another elf, by the name of Laerylon, also had his eyes on Zaisha. A heated rivalry grew between the two male elves, culminating with a duel between the two. Mathurin, barely adequate with a sword, was hard pressed to defend against the better-financed skills of Laerylon. The battle raged on and Mathurin grew desperate. His blade lashed out, past Laerylon's guard, piercing his heart. He fell to the floor, his lifeblood flowing out. Mathurin's hands, now wet with blood, slipped from the hilt of the blade and it clattered to the floor. He turned and fled, disgusted by his actions and unsure about what to do. He made his way to the forest surrounding the town. A few hours later he decided it was time to return. He made his way to the outskirts of town, but what he saw caused him much dismay. The town guard had been marshaled and was out in full force. Laerylon had powerful friends in the local government, and Mathurin soon realized he would not last long if seen. Cautiously he crept towards Zaisha's home, unwilling to leave her behind. When he reached the house, he found well guarded. There would be no daring rescue, no running off together. Any attempt would fail. Sighing, he turned his back to his love and fled, leaving his homeland behind, knowing he could never return. That was Zaisha's last image of him. She had been watching him creep towards the house from her second-story window and she had watched him turn and leave.

Rumors had been flying as to what had happened. All of them exaggerated, she figured. All save the parts that mentioned that the two had been fighting over her. That much she knew was true. That and he would not be coming back. She went over to her door and locked it as tears finally broke free. She did not wish to be disturbed. Her emotions freed, she threw herself upon her bed, letting her tears, her feelings flow free. Anger, guilt, frustration, remorse, now loneliness. All these she felt and more. She mourned him, though he no doubt still lived, but in her heart he had died. She loved him, but he had taken a life for her. Hours passed by. Some part of her heard a knock at the door, a rattling of the handle, but not a part that felt like responding. The sun set and rose again. Still she cried, though she had long since run out of tears to shed. Still she had not moved. She was thirsty, hungry, but she did not care. It was the next day before she finally rose and left her room. But the girl that emerged was not the same that had entered. She had changed. Gone was the love-smitten woman, ready to devote her life to Mathurin and her family trade. In her place stood someone far different. This new Zaisha, reckless and irrational, was a stark contrast to her former self. An only child, Zaishalla had matured more quickly than her playmates. Her parents had wasted little time teaching her their craft as well as etiquette. Despite her young age, she possessed grace and style that would rival any in the king's court. No trace of that showed as she came bounding down the stairs and presented herself before her parents.

Her family was not pleased with the transformation and was unsure what to do with her now. The government was far more pleased, however. Eager to see someone pay for Laerylon's death. The local council chose to view the changed Zaisha as a stain upon her family and race. They persuaded the king to have her exiled. Mathurin was declared an outlaw and was to be killed on sight until his permanent death. Zaisha didn't mind, of course, well she didn't care much for the part about Mathurin's death, but she happily accepted her banishment. The day after the judgement had been passed, she left her home of 104 years, following much the same path Mathurin took not even a week earlier.

The years passed by as Zaisha travelled from town to town, kingdom to kingdom. She worked odd jobs as she stayed in town. When money grew tight, and the silvers she earned during the day were not enough, she turned to thievery. Picking a passerby's pocket, or taking a tour of someone's home. She was reluctant to do it, but she did not consider it wrong. "If they needed it more than I, they would have held on to it better", she'd say if she was caught.

She loved to journey out with the young adventurers in their search of action and adventure. She never got too involved with them, preferring to stand aside and allow them to do things themselves, though she wasn't afraid to leap in when things got to rough for them. She experimented with many fighting styles before she settled on florentine with short sword and dagger.

Through some quirk of fate, she managed to avoid taking any deaths over the years, though she had more than a few close calls. She often wondered how Mathurin had fared. Had he been found and permed? Was he still alive in some distant kingdom, or even the next town? She tried not to dwell on it, but it wasn't easy. Through all the years and all the kingdoms, she had yet to encounter him.

None of these early adventures really changed her. True to her Elven heritage, the years had barely touched her. Sixteen years had passed since her exile and it was now the year 599.

Zaisha had been travelling with yet another group of adventurers. They had completed their quest and she had decided to travel elsewhere. It was not long after she had parted with them that the ground beneath her feet gave way and she fell into a deep hole.

She had fallen into an old dwarven stronghold turned goblin breeding pit. Despite her best efforts, she could not get out the way she had come in. She kicked the dirt in frustration, realizing that she had left her rope with the party above. She called out until her throat was hoarse, but the only thing she managed to call was a few goblins from the tunnels nearby. A short battle later, the goblins lay bleeding, and she was left standing with a sun setting above.

Sifting through the remains of what was once the forest floor, she managed to gather enough material, to begin a small fire. In part for warmth, in another, hope the smoke would be seen. However, this forest was one rarely travelled and her fire went unnoticed.

In the days that followed, she began to venture out and explore her surroundings. She had yet to find an exit before her light sources began to dwindle and the numerous goblins kept her from getting to deep into the labyrinth. When her food supply ran out, she reluctantly turned to eating the goblins that wandered into her lair. Goblin meat tastes terrible by the way.

Days turned into weeks; weeks into months. Three and some odd days had passed by she heard some noise emanating from a passage away from the goblin infested ones. She hid along the wall and let the strangers pass by. She was about to strike them from behind when she realized the trio was part of the group she had been travelling with before she fallen. They had met much the same fate as she had. Together the four them managed to make some progress through the twisting tunnels and its dark denizens. Deeper within, they came across some sleeping ogres from which Zaisha "borrowed" a sword nearly as tall as she was. She strapped the bastard sword to her back, waiting to see in the light of day. Eventually they managed to make their way out and return to the surface.

As they stepped out of the cave and into the green forest, tinged with the orange of early autumn, the sight of so many trees after so long overwhelmed young Zaisha. She ran up to the nearest one and gave it a big hug. She hugged a few others as well as kissed one, before her companions suggested they return to their camp nearby. Reluctantly she agreed.

The new sword fascinated her and she vowed to learn to wield the blade, even though it was far longer than anything she was used to. No one in the group was skilled in its use. She carried it with her only a short time, for the sword was soon shattered during a heated battle. Zaisha spent the rest of the day moping beneath a tree after that. She added get another bastard sword to her list of things to do.

She travelled with the party for a little while longer, but there were still places she had never been and trees she had never seen. When the party decided to head back into familiar territory, she took her leave and continued on. Now in the waning months of the year 600, she finds herself in the kingdom of Dylarria. What awaits her only time will tell.

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Last modified 8 Nov, 2000