Post by Lady Kessa on Nov 26, 2008 2:33:29 GMT -6
Lady Kessa
Born Marquessa St. James, named by a mother with an overly posh sensibility and a father who worked hard to provide his family with a good life but was rarely home, she grew up rather normal in Eden Prairie, Minnesota.
On the eve of her twenty-third birthday, Marquessa was leaving her second job as a waitress in a cocktail bar, she passed by a parked van and when she woke, there were men barking at them in strange language, the air humid and hot. She soon was stripped naked and caged with a dozen other girls, part of a lot sold to a slaver's house of Ar. She was trained in the basics of a kajira, then turned out to be sold again as slightly more tempered product. Purchased by a traveling merchant, she was trained to serve and in time, read and write the native common language so to do his books and ordering when he was too drunk, which was often.
Always he promised to take her North, where they better appreciated the fuller figure she was cursed with. Two years passed with her working as he traveled from the Springs to the Falls, the Gardens to the Cliffs his drinks often sought by those who had not thought to bring their own. It was on the cliffs, overlooking the great spreading landscape of Gor, that a random arrival of a tarnsman changed her destiny.
Fearful of the great birds, she threw herself behind the back of the man she had been serving, and he laughed, sending her back though both knew, somehow that they had touched something far more than skin. Sold away that night to a stranger of the Northland, she was carried away to Einar's Skerry, alone in a place empty and large. Fate again drove the man she knew now as Franz Castellan to her. Seeking shelter from a storm, he entered the inn she was serving in, and when he left, it was with promise to negotiate her sale to him. The Jarl who held her would not be parted, though he chose to throw her out when she proved that she had been trained for honesty and he did not like the truth.
Weary, she hid aboard a ship heading for the mainland and when she arrived, followed a caravan toward the only place she knew to go. The cliffs. There she could seek her true master, or her death. Thankfully, the former proved fate's intention. Collaring her as his own, she followed him away to the cesspool of Gor, Port Kar.
Here, she worked and strived to become as useful to him as she could. He grew to care for her opinion, to treasure her honesty. When he, through great skill and a bit of cunning, aquired land to the north of the Northern Forest, she happily went where he lead. In the ramshackle outpost known as Fehu Isa, she worked with the other bondmaids to keep his hall clean, to make him comfortable and successful. Her skill in reading and writing would prove invaluable, and the aid she gave pressed her nearer to her Jarl's heart than he had ever allowed anyone to reach. As his bondmaid, he was happy, but he longed for more, and freed her to become his companion, and someday perhaps, the mother of his heirs.
And so she stands, at his side as his friend, his mate, the Mistress of Tyr'Odal Hall, doing that which she has always done. Working her hardest to see that her Jarl is happy, successful and loved.
Born Marquessa St. James, named by a mother with an overly posh sensibility and a father who worked hard to provide his family with a good life but was rarely home, she grew up rather normal in Eden Prairie, Minnesota.
On the eve of her twenty-third birthday, Marquessa was leaving her second job as a waitress in a cocktail bar, she passed by a parked van and when she woke, there were men barking at them in strange language, the air humid and hot. She soon was stripped naked and caged with a dozen other girls, part of a lot sold to a slaver's house of Ar. She was trained in the basics of a kajira, then turned out to be sold again as slightly more tempered product. Purchased by a traveling merchant, she was trained to serve and in time, read and write the native common language so to do his books and ordering when he was too drunk, which was often.
Always he promised to take her North, where they better appreciated the fuller figure she was cursed with. Two years passed with her working as he traveled from the Springs to the Falls, the Gardens to the Cliffs his drinks often sought by those who had not thought to bring their own. It was on the cliffs, overlooking the great spreading landscape of Gor, that a random arrival of a tarnsman changed her destiny.
Fearful of the great birds, she threw herself behind the back of the man she had been serving, and he laughed, sending her back though both knew, somehow that they had touched something far more than skin. Sold away that night to a stranger of the Northland, she was carried away to Einar's Skerry, alone in a place empty and large. Fate again drove the man she knew now as Franz Castellan to her. Seeking shelter from a storm, he entered the inn she was serving in, and when he left, it was with promise to negotiate her sale to him. The Jarl who held her would not be parted, though he chose to throw her out when she proved that she had been trained for honesty and he did not like the truth.
Weary, she hid aboard a ship heading for the mainland and when she arrived, followed a caravan toward the only place she knew to go. The cliffs. There she could seek her true master, or her death. Thankfully, the former proved fate's intention. Collaring her as his own, she followed him away to the cesspool of Gor, Port Kar.
Here, she worked and strived to become as useful to him as she could. He grew to care for her opinion, to treasure her honesty. When he, through great skill and a bit of cunning, aquired land to the north of the Northern Forest, she happily went where he lead. In the ramshackle outpost known as Fehu Isa, she worked with the other bondmaids to keep his hall clean, to make him comfortable and successful. Her skill in reading and writing would prove invaluable, and the aid she gave pressed her nearer to her Jarl's heart than he had ever allowed anyone to reach. As his bondmaid, he was happy, but he longed for more, and freed her to become his companion, and someday perhaps, the mother of his heirs.
And so she stands, at his side as his friend, his mate, the Mistress of Tyr'Odal Hall, doing that which she has always done. Working her hardest to see that her Jarl is happy, successful and loved.