Physical Description: (Appearance is 9 on a scale of 1 to 10)
- Ethnicity: Zigeuner
- Age: 16
- Height: 5’9” Weight: 197
- Hair: Shoulder length dark green
- Eyes: Vibrant green
- Skin: Dusky tan.
- Build: Athletic and well-proportioned.
- Clothing: Usually seen in one of 3 outfits:
1. Basic traveling clothes native to the region of Moth
2. Colorful Gypsy dancing costume
3. Fighting leathers with a nondescript, dark mask that leaves only the eyes visible.
Personality: Unlike the rest of her people, Ariana is quiet and serious. The hard years as a slave and the loss of her family had stolen the laughter and joy from her life. At first, she rarely spoke except to Vilma, usually only when asked a direct question or when speech is otherwise necessary. Now she is far more open with the group, to the point of sharing jokes and even teaching some of her abilities when they ask. She sees the group as her new family and will do anything in her power to protect them.
Her fighting style has also changed from mostly ranged throwing daggers and keeping herself away from the thick of danger to speeding around the melee with precision strikes and when able, protecting her weaker allies with her blades.
My story begins generations before my own birth. Not that I knew it at the time, but I was descended from a rare bloodline; my ancestors had been shown favor from the Great Basilisk. This manifested in a few of them in the form of vibrant green eyes and a venomous essence. Physical contact with those so blessed had a price. If the poison did not kill you outright, the victim would spend hours in pain. For this reason, they shunned any form of physical contact beyond those necessary duties required to sustain the family name. My great-great-great (not sure how many greats) grandmother and my namesake fled from her homeland (I was never told where she was from.) and joined a group of performers. She was a skilled medicine maker and specialized in anti-venom and antidotes. During the group’s travels, she met a Ziguener acrobat named Brishan, and they fell in love. They left the group while in the land of Moth and returned to his family’s caravan to get married. She gave birth to a healthy son with chocolate brown eyes and black hair like his father. Ariana hoped that the blessing would only manifest in a pure line. Her wish seemed to come true since she also gave her husband 2 daughters that bore none of the signs of Basilisk’s favor.
This went on for many generations, and none of the children seemed to possess the legacy. Grandmother Ariana’s wish held true until I was born. The warnings that she had given her family were long forgotten. I had the same green eyes and hair that she did, so my parents named me after her. I had a fairly normal childhood until I turned 4. The other children around me started getting sick whenever we played together. My grandfather found the first Ariana’s journal and decided that I might be the cause of the other children getting sick. From then on, I was kept isolated from everyone else. I did not understand what was going on; nothing is explained to a 4 year old. The only thing I could gather from this is that something bad would happen if I touched anyone. To pass the time since I was unable to interact with other people, I learned to juggle. When I say I was unable to interact, I only meant physically. My family was careful to not neglect me and I was loved dearly. It was obvious even to one as young as me that they regretted the need to isolate me, but I was lonely.
She came to the caravan two years into my isolation. Her parents seemed scared of something when they left her here. She on the other hand seemed to fear nothing. Only a year older than me, she was already so self-assured. Though my people freely accept newcomers with no questions asked; what parent does not care more for their own children than a foreigner. She was assigned as my playmate since she seemed hardier than the other children. I still avoided touching her, but she was allowed in much closer proximity than everyone but my immediate family. I had my first true friend.
My childhood fun is a story for another time. Suffice to say that my childhood ended during my tenth year. We were traveling back into Moth from Terrasanta, the capital of Dwänholf, when the bandits set upon us. Despite the dangers of being near me, all the children were relegated to a single central wagon with the adults arranged in a defensive ring around it. In the rush, there was no time to unhitch the horses from the wagons. Unfortunately, as the bandits clashed with the defenders, the horses attached to the children’s’ wagon spooked and ran through the defensive line. The erratic shaking knocked me against something and I lost consciousness. The defenders broke formation to follow and protect their children. No one above 13 years of age survived.
I awoke to a living nightmare. I was in a cramped holding cell carved from rock with iron manacles around my ankles connected with a chain that limited my movement to a shuffling pace. My clothing was a simple, slightly ragged cotton shift. There were many others in the cell, most of whom seemed to be sleeping in exhausted heaps. My life as a quarry slave had begun.