Ashara D'Han

(Current) Name: Ashara D’han
(Slave) Name: Kinvara
(Birth) Name: Serra D’han

Titled Name: None

Age: 21-23 (exact age unknown)

Personality: Ashara is a free-spirited woman that has little fondness for rules and norms. She lives by her own code for good or ill, and that code may or may not change in the blink of an eye. Some would call Ashara selfish, and the woman wouldn’t deny it. If it isn’t in her best interest to fight – that is to say, if she isn’t being paid, if there doesn’t seem to be even a hint of a possibility of being paid for her services, and most importantly if her life doesn’t depend on her to fight – then there is little to no chance of her jumping into the fray. If she does do something selfless for another it is a very rare favor and not something to be accepted lightly – especially if there is a loss of money involved.

Ashara is also headstrong; once her mind is made up it takes a lot of doing to convince her otherwise. She does not ask for help except in the most dire of circumstances. Some would say that Ashara values money more than she values her own life, which is why she puts her life at risk, but this is only half true: Ashara does greatly value money. Does money matter more than her life? Hells, no.

Where others see arrogance in Ashara, she sees confidence in herself and in her skills. She is a woman of few words when the situation permits it. Words to Ashara are empty – it is a person’s actions that tell her what she wants to know moreso than any word or promise that could be offered. Ashara will lie to keep her privacy or to protect herself. When called out on a lie with logic and reasoning she will admit it with all the blunt force of a mace... whether you’ll get the truth out of her after that or not is debatable.

Violence is something that Ashara is used to. She won’t flinch at the threat of violence and gore doesn’t bother her in the least. Ashara isn’t one to risk her life unnecessarily, and tries to discourage or avoid combat situations where the stakes are high. In a situation that is not that risky, however, she won’t hesitate to jump into the fray... such as in a tavern brawl. If she is paid to fight or defend someone she will show no mercy to her enemies unless directly ordered to do so.


Birth Place: Pentos

House Of: N/A

House Sigil: none



Mental: Ashara is a firm believer in the saying that whatever doesn’t kill you will make you stronger. She will take a risk if she feels it will benefit her or if she is getting paid, but other than that she won’t go for it. The same goes for helping people: Ashara likely won’t come to someone else’s aid unless it is something ridiculously simple, if she has a close bond with the person doing the asking, or if she’s getting paid. Survival and money are the two things she focuses on at all times.

Some might think she is a pessimist but she feels that she is just being realistic. Sometimes her sense of humor is dark or crude... but she makes no apologies for finding such things funny. Ashara has been known to laugh in response to great stress or dire circumstances.

Fighting and games of strategy are the only things Ashara really knows. Going outside of that comfort zone makes her feel awkward. She is easily frustrated when this awkwardness is blatantly visible and verbally noted by anyone observing her.


Physical Skills: Ashara had two options: learn to fight, or die. Her capability to hold her own in a fight with or without weapons was gained without the benefit of safe, formal weapons training. The woman favors one-handed swords and daggers. If her weapons are taken from her, she won’t hesitate to improvise. Ashara is quick and light on her feet, sure-footed and graceful in her agility. Some have said that she would have made a fair dancer had she not chosen to live in the fighting pits.

As one might expect, Ashara’s pain tolerance is exceptionally high. This isn’t to say she enjoys pain, but rather she can put up with a lot of pain before making any complaints.


Social Skills: As a child of minor nobility the Free Cities, Ashara once knew certain social niceties that would be expected of her. Being broken and sold into slavery made her forget those courtesies; as a sellsword she couldn’t care less about such things or any other societal expectations. What matters to her is coin to spend, food to eat, something to drink, and a warm, dry place to sleep. She is a proud woman that knows her value and she takes pride in knowing that she is a woman that has found for herself a place in an otherwise male-dominated trade.

She has some issues with the Westerosi government, seeing the House system as just another way of controlling people. Ashara knows that in a lot of ways things are better for her in Westeros than they could ever have been in Essos, and because of that she refuses to return home. As far as she is concerned there is nothing for her there... unless someone is willing to pay twice her weight in gold; then and only then would she even begin to consider such an errand.

She is somewhat wary of people on a general level. If she isn’t sure she can trust a person she will adhere to her father’s Lorathi speech pattern. Once she is more comfortable she will drop it and speak normally. It is Ashara’s philosophy that one does not truly know a person until one has fought with them.


Family:
Tyanna of Pentos – Mother
Vaggoro D’han of Lorath – Father
Saathos – Brother


Rumors:
Ashara has spread the rumor that the visible vine tattoo from her scalp to her wrist means she was a Volantean gardening slave who not only tended gardens but also guarded the valuable crops from thieves, but was sold to the fighting pits in Astapor a few years later... and through fighting she managed to earn enough money to buy her freedom.

Ashara’s secretive nature has given some folks cause to believe that she is an assassin, and that she would gut a person as soon as look at them.

A wild tale going around about Ashara in King’s Landing goes that she is the bastard-born daughter of Aerys and a half-Lyseni/half-Lorathi mistress, and that Ashara has come to Westeros to contest Rhaegar’s eventual claim to the Iron Throne. Ashara knows this is completely false, despite having the pale blond hair and curiously dark purple-blue eyes the Westerosi associate with Targaryens, but she does not confirm or deny it because the absurdity of it all amuses her.


Known In Public: Towards those Ashara does not know she can be like a stone wall: cold, rough, and unyielding. She doesn’t discourage a conversation but at the same time she doesn’t always welcome it. Sometimes she gives people the opinion that she just wants to be left alone. Other times she is actively in search of a job to do or an errand to run, or patiently waiting for such a thing to find her - the higher the pay, the better. She is known as a woman who can get things done and isn’t afraid to get her hands dirty... for the right price, of course.


History:
Ashara is not this woman’s birth name. Instead she was born as Serra D’han of Pentos. Her mother, Tyanna, was a perfumer of combined Pentoshi and Lysene descent. Serra’s father, Vaggoro, was a noble from Lorath who composed poetry and had a fondness for extravagance, gambling, and travel. Serra was their youngest child, and only daughter. She grew up with a brother four years older than her, named Saathos.

When Serra was three, she and her family sailed to Meereen. Vaggoro was intent on seeing the sights, with the multi-colored bricks of the walls and the many pyramids that belonged to the wealthy. Besides touring the city Vaggoro and Tyanna sailed to Meereen with the intention of purchasing slaves for their household. Instead of using the money they brought with them for that express purpose, Vaggoro spent the money on gambling during their stay and put himself deep in debt.

Vaggoro was getting ready to set sail back home with his family in order to return with extra funds to pay off his debts and purchase at least one slave when he was confronted by sellswords hired by his creditors. The sellswords told him that he had three days to come up with twice the amount of coin he and his family had arrived with. Three days was barely long enough to sail to and from, and the sellswords were ordered to make sure they didn’t leave town.

Vaggoro wrote poetry to sell at a pittance of its true worth to any who would buy it. Tyanna did what she could to produce fine perfumes on the spot and also sold them for much less than what they were truly worth. Serra and Saathos were too young to realize what was going on or why their parents hissed arguments at each other when they were in the same room together. After three days of hard work Vaggoro and Tyanna only had a third of the money owed when the sellswords returned.

The sellswords took the money, but they were ordered to get it all at once or make “other arrangements”. It was suggested that the sellswords could deliver the couple’s two children to their employers to be sold as slaves. Tyanna wouldn’t stand for that idea and instead offered to sell herself into slavery if it would spare the children. The sellswords deemed her too old. When the thugs tried to take the children, Vaggoro attacked them. It was a quick fight that ended with Vaggoro’s death before his family’s eyes. Tyanna, Serra, and Saathos were taken to the nearest slaver company and sold against their will. Tyanna was separated from her children to serve the Great Masters as a cleaner. Serra and Saathos, aged 5 and 9 respectively, were sent to different brothels.

Despite being five years old, Serra was a strong little girl. She resisted against those that tried to do harm to her, and once stabbed a man in the throat with one of her hairpins. Serra was beaten for this, but she didn’t care. She refused to let anyone – man or woman – touch her in any way without first putting up a fight. With no small amount of frustration her Master sent her to the fighting pits instead.

In the pits she was left alone, but this did little to soothe her. With her father dead, her mother enslaved or dead, and the same fate given to her brother, there was little hope that she would be reunited with her family again. No aunts, uncles, or cousins knew of what had happened, and surely there would have been rumors spread that the small D’han family had died at sea. There was little else for the girl to do but to learn how to fight, and fight solely to keep herself alive for as long as possible. Some of the older pitfighters taught her a few things, albeit at the expense of injury and always on the eve of a fight. Serra fought for her life against many adversaries; some of them were completely defenseless or without the training to know how to fight, and those were the worst battles for her to perform. She earned a name for herself in the fighting pits by the age of nine.

Five years later, aged to fourteen years, Serra was still an able fighter in the pits when the nobleman Qavo Edoryen from Volantis arrived at her master’s doorstep. Qavo was looking for a slave that could look after and guard his children, as there were many who would seek to hurt him and his family if even a hint of an opportunity showed itself. With reluctance, the slave master sold Serra to Qavo for a hefty sum.

Qavo Edoryen did not like Serra’s name, and the moment her ownership changed into his hands he renamed her Kinvara. He spoke to her from his palanquin while she was made to walk beside it. He told her what her new duties would be, and at what times of day they would be done. To hide Kinvara’s true purpose Qavo had the left side of her head shaved and a vine tattoo etched on her scalp, down her neck, over her shoulder, and down the entire length of her arm. The tattoo stopped just short of her left wrist. She was told that if anyone asked into the meaning of her tattoo that she was little more than the nobleman’s gardener.

It took Kinvara several weeks to become accustomed to her new role and routines. Her failures were met with scoldings and denial of food as opposed to beatings, for Qavo had observed first-hand what Kinvara was capable of and knew he didn’t have the strength to effectively discipline her in such a way. Qavo’s wife, Rohanne, taught Kinvara to read and several other “soft” skills in an attempt to ease the slave’s hardened psyche. In the six years that followed Kinvara successfully defended the family from enemies three times. The brutality with which Kinvara fought against Edoryen foes both shocked and horrified her masters. Qavo and Rohanne, as well as their children, came to consider Kinvara family. Qavo even went so far as to allow her to use the family name as her own. When the family went on outings Kinvara Edoryen was invited to ride in her own palanquin, but she always declined the honor.

One night Qavo came home drunk and mistook Kinvara for his wife, Rohanne. He made advances, and Kinvara resisted him. Qavo struck Kinvara for resisting him and a struggle ensued that woke Rohanne, who went to investigate the disturbance. She discovered them and what was going on, and slapped her husband before leaving the room. Qavo came to his senses and ran after Rohanne, leaving Kinvara bruised, confused, and more than a little shaken up. Qavo saw fit to have Kinvara beaten again the next morning, to take out his anger at Rohanne.

Rohanne refused to teach Kinvara anything more when the slave arrived for her usual lessons. Instead, Rohanne ordered Kinvara to kill Qavo and take the fall for it. Kinvara is shocked by this turn of events and, once by herself, she started to plan out how to do it... perhaps she could flee instead of waiting for death. Her plans were interrupted when one of the Edoryen girls walked in and asked her to tell a bedtime story. Kinvara realized that if she killed Qavo and fled, Rohanne would be named the murderer... leaving the children orphans. That night, instead of obeying Rohanne’s orders, Kinvara fled to the nearest port city and snuck aboard a Westerosi ship.

As a child Kinvara had loved sailing on her father’s boat. As an adult, hiding below deck with no windows or airflow, she found that the sea made her dizzy and ill. Her time aboard the merchant ship was not without its difficulties. Kinvara was spotted by a sailor who noticed her collar, and he intended to ransom her back to her masters. Kinvara claimed that she was a simple gardening slave by day and a pleasure slave by night, and that she would gladly offer her services if he kept her secret and gave her safe passage to Dorne. The sailor agreed and took her weapons, but Kinvara killed him with her bare hands. She took what gear she could carry off of his corpse, put her slave collar around his neck, and tossed the body overboard.

Once the ship anchored in Dorne, Kinvara waited until nightfall to slip off the ship. She walked the streets with a sense of awe and wonder. The amount of freedom she now had – a freedom she only knew a part of as a little girl more than fifteen years ago – was staggering. She went to the nearest tavern for food, drink, and a room... currency to do so courtesy of the sailor she killed. In the morning she went to the blacksmith to trade her old leather armor for new gear – also leather, but completely different in design and color from what she wore as a slave. Kinvara also realized that her slave name needed to go as well. She listened to the chatter on the streets, and the name ‘Ashara’ crossed her ears. Kinvara liked the sound of it, and coupled it with her father’s surname. She was now Ashara D’han.

Ashara performed a variety of odd jobs around Dorne. It was paying work, but dull. She found paid employment as a tavern guard for a time. Once it was clear the woman knew how to fight she was offered jobs a bit more dangerous and exciting. The moment Ashara had enough money to do so she purchased a sand steed – a magnificent black stallion with golden mane and tail, whom she named Shayd – and rode north alongside a caravan headed to King’s Landing. Once in King’s Landing, Ashara continued to look for work as a sellsword.

Ashara stood beside the tavern-keeper’s counter, her arms crossed and one hip propped against the solid mahogany furniture. Her dark purple-blue eyes surveyed the comings and goings of the establishment with boredom. Ensuring the peace at a tavern wasn’t quite what Ashara had in mind when she said she was looking for a job. But at least the owner was willing to pay, and at least it wasn’t a brothel.

She had been in King’s Landing for a little under a week, and still had yet to see everything the city had to offer. In her opinion the place wasn’t nearly as regal as the name implied to be. Then again, she had only so far managed to wander about the poorer sections. It would probably take the better part of a month to see the sights properly. Perhaps even longer, if nothing more interesting in the way of work came along.

A man approached Ashara’s side of the counter and slapped three silver coins onto the wooden surface beside her. She eyed the man – not the poorest of patrons she had seen tonight, but not the richest, and clearly drunk – and then at the coins. “A woman does not serve drinks,” she said, and looked away. A couple of men not too far away were arguing about a bet placed on a round of cards.

The drunken man quirked an eyebrow at her. “’s not what I’m payin’ you for. You’re a whore, ain’tcha?”

Ashara grabbed the hilt of her sword and held her blade mere inches from the man’s neck, allowing the steel to glint malevolently against the dancing light of the fireplace. Her dark purple eyes narrowed into a glare and she snarled, “Does a woman look like a whore? A man will take his coins back and leave in peace.”

The drunkard seemed to consider his options for a moment, then took his coins and backed away. Ashara sighed, shook her head, and sheathed her weapon. “As though he’s never seen women drink in a tavern before...” she muttered, and looked around. There were a handful of women around, and they weren’t selling themselves. Admittedly most of them were serving drinks and meals, but they weren’t dressed like the other prostitutes she’d seen around this part of the city.

The establishment’s innkeeper approached her next. “Stayin’ for the night again?”

Ashara nodded and slid several coins the innkeeper’s way. “A woman will stay... for a time.” She knew it would be in her best interest to visit all of the various inns in order to confuse anyone that may be looking for her or directions to where she was staying... but for now this would do. With any luck some interesting work or some welcome trouble would find her soon enough.