Age: 18
Race: Human
Gender: Female
Description: Long brown hair, usually in a braid that goes past her waist. Eyes are deep brown, almost black, and have a �hunter�s� look about them. Skin is medium brown from being exposed to the weather.
Personality: Serious nearly all the time. Laughing does not come easily with her because of how her life has been. She is very silent.
Weapons: A sling, two wooden daggers and one great sword cut from stone. She also excels in hand-to-hand combat.
Weaknesses: Very solitary, not used to being around people. She doesn�t make friends and only asks help when it is staring her in the face that she can�t do it herself.
Strengths: No one has ever beaten her swordsmanship, and her dagger throwing...it�s best to stay out of her way. Kalya is perfect with her sling, and she uses that as a means of her survival.
Short History: Kalya and her family lived as part of a clan of nomads. Never bothering anyone they had their own reasons for remaining hidden from the rest of the world. The clan came from Aeglirith long ago- though the townspeople people of the village have since forgotten - and a harsh winter on the bleak, deserted plains on which they lived nearly wiped them out (including her parents). Only five out of thrity survived and Kalya, after helping to bury the dead, went her own way, the other four choosing separate paths and never meeting again.
Past Story: The shovel dug its way into the stubborn, cold earth and with one more heave the dirt gave way. Putting the shovelful of earth on a great patch where a hole had once been (but now a great mound of dirt), Kalya wiped her brow. There! The last grave covered, the last of the dead buried! She bit her lip in determination not to cry. She was truly alone. *At least now, my mother, you will not suffer anymore* she thought, taking one more passive look at the grave. Then, turning around, the girl, one of the four survivors of a company of twenty, met the others. The only others to survive the winter. Two smiled, one was crying, and Kalya was silent and emotionless. "I am heading to our birthplace. No corruption shall take me, I do not think. Will any come with me?" They all shook their heads no. Kalya nodded.
"Then I leave you, and wish you well. Ven, Tirith, Mirith, farewell." She curtly bowed and made off toward Aeglirith, a shadow dissappearing in the setting sun. Ven shook his head. "She's destined for great things, that one. But her detachment will be her downfall." At last, Kalya, only 18, made her way to Thoronbar and whatever was in store.