Nordheimer - Female - 20
Life wasn't a battle easily won; the tides of fortune had a tendency to be as unpredictable as the sea her clan roamed across in search of wealth and territory. From an early age, the sliver of a girl was expected to hold her own against a slew of older brothers -- all of which, of course, were almost twice her size by the time she could hold a practice sword. It was a disadvantage the stubborn creature was more than happy to overcome. Maxana earned her place as a fearsome shieldmaiden rather young. Dedicated to the chief's cause and little else, her reputation as being a surprisingly deadly force spread through their small territory after a vicious show of force against a group of much larger men. The White Death was bestowed upon her by her peers, given due to the absolute speed and grace in which she unleashed a torrent of carnage without fail. All that changed when her clan collapsed, however. Maxana was tossed to a fighting ring as entertainment for wealthier spectators who all enjoyed watching the pretty Nord wield a blade with such mastery. After almost gaining her freedom by slaughtering a mass of guards and leading a rebellion of fellow captives turned fighting slaves, Maxana was exiled as punishment and a promise that she could never, ever escape from; withholding the potential for a glorious death fighting alongside her people.
Nordheimer - Female - 22
There were some people who were just born different; a wrinkle in their genetic composition that made their existence all the more interesting and alluring than those cut from the stereotypical cloth. For all intents and purposes, Narissa should have been an exceptionally ordinary person, and she might have if life had not played out the way it did. She was born the seventh of the fearsome leader of a Vanaheim tribe and his shieldmaiden wife, though the brutality of following in her mother’s footsteps never particularly suited the redhead as a child. Instead, she could be found lazing during the laborious routine all children were expected to devote themselves to, or playing flirtatious games with her father’s men long, long before womanhood even laid eyes on her. When it eventually did, gracing the young girl with all the feminine bends and curves a lecherous mind might ask for, Narissa discovered the benefits of a pretty face with young and warm and always willing thighs.
Her father wasn’t remotely pleased with dangerous reputation his daughter was building throughout his territory, and there was more than one man he yanked out of the stall Narissa was supposed to be mucking. It wasn’t until an enemy clan came into the scene with hopes of establishing peace that things turned south for the little vixen, who found herself the primary interest of the near-ancient Aesir at the rival clan’s front. When her father refused to give up his problematic daughter, a battle broke out that landed majority of people decimated – her father, mother, brothers and sisters included. The tribe turned on her then, accusing her of worshipping strange and wicked Gods rather than the noble Ymir, blaming the loss of their good men and straying husbands on her willingness to slide into any man’s arms. So, in a matter of days, Narissa went from spoiled child to be sold off to the highest bidder. Trouble followed her often after that; she had a tendency to climb whatever ranks were necessary to earn herself a comfortable existence despite her lowly title as purchased goods in upper-echelon pleasure houses frequented by politicians and nobles. For the second time, her life changed when she was found strewn across an elite official’s lap with poison still on his lips. Narissa was an easy target, honestly; it was far more likely the man’s enemies had seen to his untimely end, though pinning the blame on a whore was convenient enough for them. It was due to the favor she did hold amongst important people that she narrowly evaded execution, facing banishment instead. Now, out in a strange new world again, Narissa will do anything to survive and continue to claw her way to a comfortable existence – no matter the cost.
Stygian - Male - Unknown
Movarth was born in Khemi, Stygia discriminated against due to his Turanian heritage, constant beatings and a harsh reality of the imagery of a lower class though born to Nobility. Orphaned and Abandoned due to his parents shame he roamed the streets thieving and surviving off the coin he could manage to achieve. As he got increasingly older he grew in height making it harder to avoid detection when thieving about, so he went into raiding business with some bandits sitting about in Stygia. Eventually the pillaged and got riches from it all, Movarth was close to nobility and could finally be noticed as an equaled man. His group had a final 'score' in Sultanupur which was to raid the treasury which ended in the downfall of his fellow raiders as they were all shot down by either ballistas or slit open by the guards sitting at the treasury. Movarth was the only one who managed to escape. Movarth later noticed his riches meant nothing to him and he wanted back sanity, he found himself lonesome as his group was all he had which drove him mad. Believing he would feel better if he turned himself in was one of his biggest mistakes, or greatest gifts... They sent him far away to a land of prisoners known as 'The Exiles' never to be seen again... And through all the suffering the guard put him under ended up in his loss of consciousness where only his skills were remembered rather than his past.