Basic Information Name: Kierisen Shadowshade Aliases: None currently Gender: Female Race: Human, Toril, FaerunÂ’s Sword Coast Age: 32 Profession: Soldier, mercenary, physical therapist Languages: Native: Chondathan, Other: Common Accent: Chondathan
Physical Information Height: 5’10” Weight: 165 lbs Body build: Muscular from weapon training, but feminine in shape still Skin type: Pale, porcelain-like skin except as noted below Hair style: Cut shoulder length in the back, fading up gradually around the face, cut jagged Scars:Most of her body is covered in scars and burn marks Tattoos: No, tattoos do not take well to scar tissue Colouring:
[b]Hair:[/b] Coal black [b]Eyes:[/b] Green [b]Skin:[/b] Alabaster pale [/li]
Mental Information Alignment: Such a personal question ;) Philosophy: “True pleasure cannot be appreciated without knowing terrible suffering. Through accepting, and embracing suffering, the path to enlightenment is found.” Deity/Beliefs: Loviatar Personality: Kierisen is brash, pointed, brutally honest, and wicked. She makes no concessions for her nature, and does not hide what or who she is. She is loyal to the very few she calls friend. She can be genuinly caring, polite, and nice, but it can all melt away in a heartbeat if her buttons are pushed. She has a soft spot for innocent females, especially those she calls 'blank canvasses', those not marked by scars or blemishes.
Additional Information Gear: Leather 'work' clothes, plate armor, shield and flail. She also carries a ceremonial dagger in her boot, and many strange tools in her pack. Jewelry: Multiple body piercings (unsure what's acceptable in public forums, most common body piercings for sure) Habbits/hobbies: Torture, drinking, fighting, soldiering, therapuedic practices (yes, torture is a hobbie) General Health: Surprisingly healthy for the visible state of her body Favorite Drink: Whiskey Weaknesses: *gasp* Another personal question like this? What is this some kind of government survey?
Kierisen was born on a small farmstead north of Baldur's Gate, to a young couple whose farm barely made enough to get by. When her mother became pregnant her father hoped for a boy to help with the work, and possibly get the farm out from under the debt that was crushing it. They were a happy couple for the most part, both very much in love, her father cherishing her mother above all else. When Kierisen was born he was both disappointed and devastated in one day.
Kierisen's birth was hard, taking far too much time, and causing far too much damage to her mother. The midwife knew the chances of survival for both were slim, but they managed to safe the baby. Her mother died shortly after from blood loss and shock. Her father fell into a pit of mourning and despair, turning to drink to quell his grief. He generally left the baby with neighbors or relatives, unable to look at her. He didn't know what to do with a baby, much less a girl, and could not help viewing the child as the reason his precious wife died. He knew deep inside it was wrong to think it, but he could not help wishing they had saved his wife instead.
When she was old enough to walk, and knew a little bit about her circumstances, she would find her father and follow him around the farm. She did her best to try and help, innocent to the painful reminder she was to him. He was harsh, correcting her mistakes with biting words, and sometimes painful slaps to her legs and head. She would cry, and pout, and in a flash of remorse he would comfort her. Innocent to the world, she would forgive him instantly and they would resume their routine.
At the age of ten her father went through a particularly rough patch. A localized drought ruined farmsteads all around the area, including theirs. He spent most of their money on drink, and had little left to buy food to supplement the small amount their farm provided. Late in the night, after their meager dinner, Kierisen's father was well into his cups, watching the girl mend a shirt across from him. Something in him snapped, the long years of bitter frustration, hardship, and guilt took over.
"You eat too much! I can't do this anymore" He grabbed her up and dragged her, confused and screaming to the door. With a cuff to her head, and a hard kick he sent her stumbling into the night.
Kierisen spent the next few years scrounging, barely surviving on what she could find or steal. She made her way from farm to farm, sleeping in barns, fields, and sometimes the homes of kind people who would give her a bit to eat. She finally found herself in Baldur's gate, a city with every opportunity for a homeless street urchin who was capable of learning the way of the streets. In her late teens she found that making money was easy by manipulating men for coin, selling herself when she had to. It was a hard life, and damaged her body and spirit in serious ways. It wasn't long before she found herself in a situation she could not get out of easily. She got wrapped up in a transaction with someone she didn't know, a new client who had not been watched beforehand. She was desperate and needed the money. The man, had other plans, and a slaver contact in the city.
Kierisen's salvation came from an unlikely source, one that would change her life forever. A dark-clad woman with rich auburn hair and startling blue eyes was passing through the city, getting some food at the inn when she overheard the not-so discreet discussion of one of the man and his contact. She turned her cold eyes to the two men, taking in the scene; the girl who stood there, her eyes dead to the world, her demeanor obviously one of defeat and resignation, the sweating fat man leering young woman hungrily, and the thug, who looked to be trying to sell Kierisen. The young woman's face was already scarred from beatings, and bruised from recent 'transactions'. It struck a chord with the traveler, unfortunately for the men.
She rose up, her meal forgotten, and threw back the hem of her cloak, revealing red leather armor edged with spikes, razor sharp edges, and all manner of wicked looking decorations. Her hand dropped to the handle of a heavy flail, a handle which was covered in sharp thorns, and having three chains attached to it. Each chain ended in a bladed iron ball, hooked and barbed for obvious cruelty. Her eyes flashed as the two men looked up, their conspiratorial looks turning into first surprise, then growing horror. They had never seen such a vision as the scarred, and angry woman bearing the instruments of such torment, as if they were jewelry.
She didn't give the fat man time to think, the look on his face had told her all she needed to know about him. Her flail lashed out, the chains jingling musically until the balls hit the end of them and struck the side of his face. The blades did their job perfectly, ripping through flesh and bone, leaving the man's skull a tormented caricature of itself. Patrons fled the inn, screaming for help, knowing the village had no one that could. Kierisen just looked up at the woman, the vision of fury that had swept in to punish her tormentors. She held no hope in her eyes, there was nothing left in her, she was resigned to whatever fate was bringing her way.
The woman turned quickly on the thug that had trapped Kierisen, smashing the blunt end of her flail against his sternum, knocking the breath from him. She followed quickly with a blow from her studded gauntlet to the side of his head. He dropped back, falling over the chair to the floor. She moved with him, driving her knee painfully into his groin to keep him in place. She leaned in close, letting his eyes take in the horror of her scarred face, the silver piercings in her skin, and a look in her eyes that told him she held no reservations about killing him right there.
"Listen to me puke. I want you to see just what you are dealing with. You will carry this image with you into the next world."
He could almost scream as she ground her knee into his sensitive nethers. She stood, her right arm coming back. He didn't see the movement, the chain, or the three iron spheres coming his way until it was too late. Finally she stood before Kierisen, looking her right in the eye.
"What is your name?"
"Kierisen," the girl said just above a whisper.
"Kierisen, I am Mistress Corryn. You are mine now, and I am taking you with me. You may call me Mistress, do you understand, Precious?"
The young woman's lip trembled, finally some emotion escaping the wall she had thrown up to protect herself. Here before her was a vision of such horror, and salvation. Someone she knew would protect her, but terrified her at the same time.
"Yes, M..Mistress," she stuttered out.
Corryn smiled a little, taking the girl's arm in her hand, and leading her from the only home she knew, and the place that had betrayed her innocence.
((Must deeply apologize. I had not realized how unsubtle this story was, and insensitive to the effect it might have on others. I have edited it, and might edit a little more to avoid any other in-sensitivities. If there are any concerns, please drop me a PM, or a tell in game. Trust me, I will not be offended.))
