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Fatima

My mother was an angel. My father is a demon. Not quite the way a lonely, lost girl should start a story. We must walk back through time, away from this place, to find any truth.

Description Height: 5’10" (in sandals) Hair: Black Eyes: Violet Apparent Race: Human – Muhsin [extremely dark skinned] Age: Appears to be 18 It is rare to find Fatima not moving about. Fatima can often be found walking around in silence, constantly looking up, down, and all around her, always observing the world through violet eyes. It is with a scholarly curiosity and acrobatic passion that she has confronted her new life. She walks with an easy, relaxed pace, sometimes gliding around in light, dancing steps, smiling or winking at those who happen to meet her eye if in a cheerful mood. She has a penchant to sit down and stand up without using her hands, and oftentimes turns trips or stumbles into gymnastic rolls. She keeps her slim, toned athletic form in good posture at all times, though when times make food scarce, she borders on being very skinny. With long, straight hair spilling to mid back, she oftentimes braids her hair in the mornings or simply pulls it back into a loose ponytail, concealing her ears. She consciously conceals her lock of silver hair every day. Her skin is extremely dark, a few shades darker then most Muhsin, owing, she suspects, to her father's blood within her veins. She is not sure how old she is, nor is she really concerned with the question. She is unpierced and unmarked, and prefers to remain that way. When she has time to prepare for a night out on the rooftops, she braids her hair close and tight, binds her breasts, and wears a black combination of jerkin, hooded mantle, trews, boots, and climber's harness. Otherwise she prefers loose clothes to conceal her pair of throwing daggers within.

When I was young, my Guardian would call me Rose, because she said I was as rare as a rose in the wasteland of shifting sands. Is this a better way to begin? This tongue is still difficult for me to speak with. Conceived during a horrible battle, I was born during a great desert storm that left the countryside awash with scents and colors untold. My Guardian took me from the city and to the wild forests and hills of her homeland far in the north. It wasn't until I could walk that she brought me home again into the sandy waste. Deep within the bowls of Istawa I was raised.

During this tumultuous time for me I learned nothing of my origin. I learned to always hide my face behind the veil, and always to keep locks of my hair over these ears of mine. Since I spent my early years in some of the lesser districts, it was easy for me to do so. My guardian worked with or within the palace, her exact position being unknown to me. Now I suspect that it was of some magical position, given the objects and books she kept within her study. Each year, during what she called the longest night, she would test me, which included drinking a strangely sweet syrupy liquid and repeating phrases written in the old tongue. I think this night might have been Imbolc, but I have no reference for this theory. This was at once both a frustrating and hopeful time for her. She said that my mother and father's blood ran strong within my veins and that someday I would be able to take up her mantle. Even to this day I am curious of these tests and of the duty she spoke of. It would take me days after these potions even to see or think straight let alone contemplate her words and the events.

Now, knowing better how other children are raised, I wonder why she never told me her name. Guardian was how I knew her even as a babe and once when I asked her if I should call her by any other namesake, she smiled at me and said that she was my Guardian and calling her by any other name wouldn't be truthful.

A few nights later I watched her murder. The story is a long and strange one; bear with me while I speak of it. A low gong resounded through the household; I had never heard this sound before, and being so, I awoke immediately. Before I had fully clothed, Jerhyn, my Guardian's watcher, and my trainer, was at my door. He made the sign for silence and so I followed him as quietly as my bare feet allowed. He hurried me to the back court and delivered me to my Guardian. She bade me quiet and hurriedly explained that there were assassins from her homeland afoot. I only knew her homeland was hidden near the dark forests and deep valleys where I was raised as a child from maps within her study. We three fled together into the inner rooms, near the cellar.

Jerhyn stayed near the hallway leading to the inner rooms to guard our flight. It was a few moments after he left our sight when I heard his battle cry " Ter'ra " (sounding close to your tongue's 'terror') ring through the halls.

My Guardian quickened her pace, almost dragging me along beside her. We arrived at the cellar door, within the storeroom, and she flung me within the cellar. She made the sign for silence and peace and closed the door. She stepped back from the door and gestured with her hands for an instant; my sight became hazy for a few moments; when it returned, I observed a pitched fight before me.

My Guardian had four strange smoky white darts buried within her back, which was facing me. Four black clad and eerily silent foes faced her. She danced within their blades and I almost gasped aloud when she slipped from one shadow only to emerge from another. She blocked her assailant's blades with finger motions; one moment there would be air between her and her combatant and another there would be a blue-white shield, impenetrable, blocking the short black blade poised to deal a death blow.

My heart pounded in my ears when I realized there was another shadowy figure within the room; he stood farther aback then the four attackers, and he studied the scene. He slowly drew a rapier with a blade blacker then the night sky outside above us. My Guardian struck down two of her attackers with a volley of blue white darts that streaked home without error. The shadow watcher waited until her back was turned to him; like a snake he lashed out with his rapier; it's black length found home within my Guardian's body. I heard her breath escape her in a rattle, and as she slid from his sword, tears walked down my cheeks.

The assassins began to search the room. I fled silently from the doorway, searching my way through the lonely near darkness. I hid myself as well as I could; but I knew they would find me nonetheless. Seconds pounded their way in time with my heartbeat. Then minutes. I do not know how long the time passed until I crept back to the door of the cellar. The assassins were gone and so were the two bodies of the slain assassins. As was the body of my Guardian.

I emerged from the cellar and went to where she had fallen. Only her robes and light sleeping gown remained. It puzzled me as to why they would strip her before carrying off her body. As the wind cut through the trees out in the courtyard, I collected myself. Glancing back the way I came, I realized with much surprise that there was no cellar door! I stood there and wasted precious time wondering at what my eyes beheld. With but a moment more, I turned and fled.

First to Jeryhn's quarters were I found my training rapier and a few target daggers. I grabbed his pack, rolled the rapier up in a blanket, strapped it to the pack, and cautiously made my way to my quarters. I found a foul odor in my room that made my eyes water, and under my feet I felt glass bite my heel. Stifling a cry, I found my sandals and wished I had been more observant. I recovered my journal and a few items; and then fled for my life out the servant's door.

Once away from the house I did not know who to go to or whom to hide with. After a few days in hiding and nights in travel, I was forced to break back into the house of my adolescence. Within, I found the floorboards pulled up, the tapestries and hangings pulled down, and everything in my room covered with a white, chalky substance. It was then that I saw the pool of blood from my heel upon the floor surrounded with strange brass sigils. I fled through the servant's quarters, taking what was left from the pantry with me that had not spoiled.

It was then that I became one of the street people. Fortunately, the city of Istawa has a system of homeless and less fortunate soup kitchens and shelters, gathered by public taxes. I made my way like a ghost from locale to locale, not knowing what to make of my new life. I had hardly been out of the household, let alone being on the dark alleyways and byways of the city. I made use of my skills that Jerhyn had taught me- learn to be silent, learn to seek, learn to know. I discovered the pathways in the sewers underneath the city. I found my way leading different lives with each group I ran with; I crept my way into the palaces by night and fled by dawn. There were things I did that I had to; that in other circumstances I would have never been forced to make those choices. I gave a different name each time I was asked; I've never had a name, other then Rose by my Guardian and student by Jerhyn.

I watched justice come down swiftly on people I considered friends. I felt as if I was always dodging, evading, someone or something tracking me. I do not know how many months or years passed since the night my Guardian was slain. I have become more proficient with the dagger and shadow then I ever thought was possible; and I know I have many long nights of practice until I can match the skills of the night-skinned men I saw that night.

It was when I started to have serial dreams of the night-skinned assassins searching for me that I became increasingly desperate for escape. I sold all of the precious possessions I had gathered when I first fled, and bought passage out of the city on the first boat I could find. Little did I realize I was traveling south into the Kingdom. I found myself inLyrenn, not knowing any of the native tongue. For once my night-black skin and athleticism served me well - I was hired on as an exotic acrobat. Soon my other skills with the sword and dagger came to the fore, when I became a guardsman for Gebarius. I had to provide a name to the hiring officer; Fatima is a common name. It isn't me, but it fits where I am for now.