Description
Black feathers cover all of this arials visible body, and an orange eagle
like beak outline her face. Deep-set grey eyes keep constant watch for any
movement, while her well-trimmed muscles ripple as she grip her weapon
tightly. Her wings slow movement keeps her floating a couple of inches above
ground. Small scars riddle her forarms and hands, which make it evident that
this avian is no stranger to battle. Her pose is in constant adaptation to
her changing surroundings, keeping her at her peak regarding threats. Looking
back into her eyes, you sense a clear and unbroken focus, unmovable
determination.
Role
:Enslavement
Added Tue Nov 2 07:19:32 2004 at level 16:
In times past tales have been spun for the children of the avians, of heroes
long gone, of their unquestionable deeds of courage and victory. Shaquatana,
definatly wasnt destined to even graze such fame, or so the elders believed.
It was clear that this young female had potential, but her childhood had been
far from disiplined. Shaquatana was the child of two beggars, who in the eyes
of the population of Arial City, was merly garbage that riddled the streets
outside the palace.
Currently she was serving as a gate guard, watching any and all who
approached the City, and questioning them of their intent. One day she was
called to the Captain of the guards, a mighty arial which Shaquatana
respected nearly as much as her blood parents, despite the constant mockery
thrown at her about them, she still kept deep respect and loyalty for the
Captain. He gave her a simple task, deliver a letter to Keiiah in the mighty
city of Hamsah Mutazz, and bring back two caskets of general medicinal
supplies. Little did she know the dire consequences when she packed her bags
and left the Arial City before the rising of the morning suns.
Her relentless ardor to finish her task had taken her though the northern
mountains, across the western plains, half across the contintent, yet with
continuous effort, she made the long journey to the desert city. When she
finally arrived in the dark hours of night, of the seventh day in her trek,
she found the city gates closed, and a guard alerting her that she had to
await for the nights prayers to end, so she may enter on the following dawn.
Tired from the days travel she tracked south around the city and set up camp
in the northern regions of the Araile Desert. Shaquatana only got an hour of
rest before she woke from sounds of feet and low voices outside her tent.
Suddenly a sword sliced through the side of the tent, she flared out her
wings and because of a trained instinct and an agility only inherent to
avians she moved away from the sharp sword. With the tent gone she saw three
cloaked figures, in dire desperation to flee, she quickly jumped int he air
to spread her wings, to be greeted with the resounding impact of a warhammer
on her back. As she fell to the hard sand, the blow had struck her
unconcious.
As she began to wake, her body was bound in heavy iron manacles, glancing
about her surroundings there was a large pickaxe carefully leaned against the
wall. There was an older avian man, with fresh wounds clad about his wings
and body. He tried to confort Saquatanas, in her confused and angry
awakening. He told her about her situation. Locked in a mine under the Tahril
Mountains, he had been there for nearly twenty years now. His strength was
waning and she had been captured to replace him. Months or years passed,
Shaquatana lost track of all time, no light ever grazed the deep mines
besides the flickering torches mounted on the walls. She was starting to lose
hope, even if she knew it was all she had to cling to.
One moring, or atleast she thinks it was moring, she heard ruckus and guards
yelling for reinforcements. It did not take long before the screams
dissipated into comforting serenity. Some minutes later Shaquatana heard
echoing footsteps coming toward her. Two robed figures came into view, one
female and one male