Name: Trystan “1084” Sarenjeka
Age: 18
Gender: female
Race: human
Weapon(s): crude dagger and various natural poisons.
Appearance: Standing at 5 feet and 5 inches tall with a total weight of barely 120 lbs. at first glace Trystan looks like no threat at all. But with her loose shoulder length black hair falling over her electric green eyes peering out from underneath a scruffy dark brown hooded cloak she gains a sense of secrecy and concealment. Her cloak resembles that of a peasant’s coverlet sewn in earnest with several stray threads and frayed ends. Despite its poor quality it does it’s job well, and that is to hide and protect her identity as well as her pale smooth skin from potential enemies.
Underneath is a vision of pure beauty. Only slightly tainted with a small branding just under her rib cage presenting the numbers “1084”. Her clothing is plain and typical of a slave consisting of a black ragged cotton dress that barely conceals her chest that ends five inches above her knees. Strapped to her thigh with worn leather bands is a crude dagger, her back up weapon. Slung across her hips is a leather belt with several terrycloth bags hanging from it. There she keeps her vials of poisons and antidotes as well as several herbs she picks up during her roving. Shielding her feet up to her calves are dark brown leather boats with metallic buckles, broken in from traveling long distances.
Job Class: Amateur Apothecary/ Wanderer
Bio: An escaped slave for demons, monsters, and other such nasties.
Location: Forever Wandering… And staying one step away from being imprisoned once again…
History: As a child Trystan grew up with her mother and father in the small trading town of Isolde. There they lived above their Shoppe where they sold a variety of natural elixirs. Both of her parents were skilled apothecaries and with their Shoppe they were fairly well off for peasants. Her parents began teaching her the art of creating natural liquid and powder remedy at the tender age of seven. Because they had no sons they hoped that their only child could teach her husband the art and carry on the family business. Little did they know that their lessons would be of immense importance in very unusual circumstances.
At the age of twelve Trystan had already begun to help her parents in their Shoppe. One day a large trader caravan came to the small town in what seemed to be a temporary stop. The leader of the group as well as his apparently main men came into Trystan’s Shoppe the evening of their arrival. The head and his posse stalked about the store not particularly taking interest in their surroundings. Stranger still was the fact that the leader kept stealing glances at Trystan as she stocked some of the shelves and then whispered back in forth between his group. At last Trystan decided she’d best tell her father in the back that these men might be of some trouble.
As she climbed the stairs to her father workroom she failed to see that one of strange men had begun to follow her. By the time Trystan was able to open the door to where her father had been testing his latest antidote the man behind her had rammed into her throwing her across the floor. Before she had even a second to recover she heard her father’s cry resonate throughout the room. When she gained composer on the floor she gasped in horror at the scene before her. He mother ran into the room equally shocked for she had been out in back of the little Shoppe tending to a small garden of herbs they grew themselves.
Trystan’s mother ran to her father’s body splayed across his worktable unconscious and badly wounded. With tears in her eyes she faced the attacker but was easily succumbed with a single blow to the face. Trystan cried aloud towards the attacker frightened and heated. He looked down at her with a sinister smirk and reached to his side unsheathing a dangerous looking hand knife. He took the blade to her mother’s throat and began to speak in a deep gruff voice.
“ It seems your father has been wounded worse then I expected, he will not live long. As for your mother, I’d be more than glad to put her in the same state. That is, if you don’t comply with what I want you to do.”
Tears streaming down her face, Trystan nodded in submission. She would rather give her own life than to see both of her parents die before her very eyes. “I will do whatever it is you want of me. Just please, do not kill my mother!” She whimpered in a small fearful voice as a new shower of tears came flowing down her cheeks.
The man chuckled to himself. “ There is a new demand for human girls amongst the demons and monsters of this land. They are sick of their own kind as slaves. You are at the perfect age for such work. So I want you to come with me, you will be a slave and I will sell you. If you do not come with me, I will have to you’re your mother. Do you understand?”
Her eyes glazed over as his ominous words sunk in. She bowed her head knowing she had no choice. “I will go.” She responded in a whisper of a voice. The man looked down at her. “I’m glad you made the right decision. Get up and follow me, do not bring anything with you.” At this he set down Trystan’s unconscious mother beside her now lifeless father. From then on her life was never the same. Her innocence was ultimately killed with the death of her father and her surrender to the slave trader. She traveled to far distances unknown to her before she was finally sold to a coven of * insert race here (vampire? deamons?) *. From there she was put to work in sleazy tavern with a reputation for serving to the scum of the earth. There she cleaned and served in the tavern no one paid much mind to her. She was just the human girl that moped the floors and scrubbed the tables. But when she reached the age of 16 things changed. She began serving drinks more often and with this came constant harassment from the drunken villains.
The harassment became worse as time passed. It began as vulgar comments but eventually evolved into molestation. That is when Trystan knew she needed to escape before she was used as something more than just a servant. She shivered at the thought. Immediately she began formulated a plan. She had not forgotten all that her mother and father had taught her in the art of apothecary. She had continued on in her learning by creating drinks for the various monstrosities that passed through the front doors of the grungy tavern. These creatures rarely asked for your average Jack and Coke’s. Their concoctions usually incorporated deadly poisons or hallucinogenic material. She knew from all the careful lessons of her parents the correct dosages of such substances. But she also knew what amount could kill. With this in mind she had her escape method.
The plan was carried out one busy Saturday night when the tavern was the most crowded and frantic. In this scenario her master would not be able to watch her make his drinks. When he asked for his usual which consisted of potent moonshine and mild amounts of Ololiuqui (Morning Glory) ingredient. Trystan eagerly complied being sure to add generous amounts of the deadly In addition to her masters heavy addiction to opium she was sure the mixture would bring on the result of death.
In a matter of hours her master had seemingly feel into a drunken sleep. His main men took the liberty of helping him to retire into his bedroom not knowing that this sleep would be eternal. Trystan gingerly snuck into his room after his associates had gone back down stairs. She slipped her fingers beside his jaw and checked for a pulse. There was none. Giddy, she searched his room for any money or valuables that would help her on the journey she was about to pursue. Luckily there was a small shilling bag attached to the man’s belt. She took it and attached it to her own.
When she went downstairs she told the associates that she would be out to get more spirits because they were low. She reached for someone’s cloak hanging on a rack by the front door and stepped out. That first step out of the tavern was like a huge breath of fresh air for her. She was finally Free. Free to do as she pleased. Free to pursue her future. Then it hit her. What was her future?
