khawala¤Ĥäņņã¤RTL

The glaring beacon of Lar-Torvis cast a lengthy shadow from the lone tur tree, inky black against the verdant grasses of the Lands of the Wagon people. The excitement palpable, electricity racing from wagon to wagon, the very bosk flaring nostrils against the rising breezes as the creaking behemoths rolled to the Plain of Stakes. It is here that a woman of the First Wagon of the Tuchuk was lost at the stake, carried into slavery by the Turian warrior who gained his prize in a flash of steel and coppery crimson blood. Slung over His saddle bow was the stripped form, tawny and exciting, full breasts and satin flesh, lithe in the manner of a girl raised in the wilds of the Plains… a spectacular contrast of deepest-red tresses against the golden flesh catching the strident sunlight.

It was not to be for the Warrior; the girl proved cunning and managed a daring escape from the great walls of the City, wandering the Plains and living as best she could from her surroundings. Footsore and weary, following the tracks of the wagons she caught up finally with those who were her People, expecting to be welcomed again as the prideful Woman she was- only to be taught her slavery truly at the very feet of the men she sought. It was a hard lesson, that the embrace of Turian steel had taken away her clan, her family, and the honor of her station, rendering her but another beast among many.

A hard winter weakened the Camp and illness struck the wagons, unprepared for the Kataii raid… the girl found herself carried off, traded for steel blades to a caravan that carried her away from the Plains, the place where she felt the seasons run in her very blood. Her homes have been many, her travels far… from the far North of Tyr’s Fist, to the jungles of Schendi at the Falls of Lake Ngao and the Village at Kamba Point… to the Yellow Knives of the Barrens, the Panther jungles bordering the Northlands. In each place she gained new understandings of her slavery, garnered new responsibility, learned to look into herself. Now and again she found herself Freed, as a Tavern Keeper, as a Leatherworker, but always her heart dew her again to steel. Eventually the abandoned beast found her way to the wagons of the Alar, and was from there sold to the North anew to Axe Fjord Holding, where she learned licentious skills of the bondmaid, branded to the North. Other homes followed, to Snow Larl Hall, again to the Plains- and she abruptly found herself Freed when One who held her in His steel thought He was loving her by Freeing her to find her own way. Having a mount and some coin and an insatiable wanderlust, she made her way North, calling herself now Deir’dre and trying to regain the dignity of her station- but the wild streak of a girl of the First Wagon ran hot again, and it was not long until her words brought her again to steel, forced again into slavery by intemperate insult to one of her own People. Perhaps she desired again the collar and whip, and hoped to find One strong enough to place her again at the feet of Men.