Wing has shared very little of her former life, including her given name. It is known by a few that she grew up well north of Egoras, in a small Chatul village in The Ravenwood, where the base of volcanic Ironblood Mountain meets a small lake the local Chatul call The Cauldron (so named due to its hot, spring-fed nature).
Though advanced in age, she was not a fierce fighter, as one would expect of an experienced Chatûl ; her explanation of this was that she had seen enough death in her long life, and wished to leave bloodshed for the younger ones, instead focusing on the healing arts and spells.Though a devout follower of Jolarä, Wing has been known to put aside some significant prejudices of her race, including its visceral hatred of lycanthropes. She has also refused to wear the robes of a priestess when offered to her by Cloudchaser Anaya, a high priestess of the Chatûl; but no one knows why, and no one has spoken of it since.
Wing is one of the founders of the Alliance of the Dawn; her role there is Consul to the Casters and Healers.
FriendshipsEditBaron Chosen of Aarûn . Wing first met Baron after fleeing Esteroak, in the dwarven tunnels; though she cannot remember their first conversation, she does remember his silence (and his love of fancy attire). As time and miles on the road passed, she grew to understand and appreciate his company, though she sensed within him a deep anger and sadness which compelled him to recklessness at times. It was in their second year of travel together that Baron unburdened his soul to Wing one evening; in his painful past she realized that his actions had profoundly changed her life years ago, and put her on this path far from home. Moved by compassion instead of anger, Wing vowed to help Baron in his search for enlightenment through his god Aarûn , and to protect him in any way she could from the wrath of her people.
Significant Life EventsEdit
~ For reasons only she could understand, Jolara saw fit to bestow upon Wing one of the six remaining Greater Staves of the Beastmother (named "Tanrıya Inanış", and crafted from Nightwillow); though this is the greatest gift she could entrust to one of her children, it has propelled Wing to the status of High Priestess, starting the process of peeling away the anonymity that Wing had so carefully created for herself.
~ The Journey HomeEditThough she had been born on the other side of the continent, Wing considered the village of Aelin Lhûg ("eye-lin loog") her true home. Her great-grandmother had emigrated from Melek-liman in Pelysius, taking her large extended family on the perilous journey to the small village centuries ago. They settled at the base of a volcanic mountain, on the shores of a lake that was the namesake of the town. Aelin Lhûg (or "Lake of the Dragon", as the Elves had aptly named it) often steamed and boiled with the occasional rumble of the mountain; it was on a prominent penninsula that the family matriarchs founded the Jolarän church Nárendur ("-ehn-dur") or The Church of the Daughters of Fire. It was within the walls of this holy place that Kesar grew into a strong able fighter and an equally unwilling priestess. Over the centuries she battled alongside Chatul and Elf against the powers of darkness in many lands far from home, yet as she grew older she found herself drawn more and more to this place she considered her homeland. It was on one of these extended homecomings that an event occured that drove her from the land and family she loved, and into the life of a fugitive.
She was deep in prayer and reflection one evening on the portico of the sacresty, trying to contain her anger over one of her heated arguments with an older cousin. Their frequent clashes over Wing's more merciful outlook on Jolarä's doctrines were legendary among the Chatûl and Elves living in town; this night's disagreement was no different, quickly resulting in shouts and accusations of heresy and blaspheny that were heard all across the village. An hour's woth of meditation had done nothing to correct Wing's mood; she entertained the thought of skipping her cousin's evening service for the familiar comfort of the Elven tavern Whitepeak Inn in the center of town, then realized that in her frustration she had left all of her belongings in the inner sanctuary. If she wanted to evade the congregation, she'd need to move quickly. She raced into the sacresty and through the darkened hallway, surprised at the absence of light - why were the candles not lit? she thought - and as she crossed through the threshhold and into the inner sanctuary her foot slipped on something wet, and she fell and slid across the floor.
Immediately she recognized the scent of Chatûl blood - and another masked smell she could not make out. Her eyes adjusted quickly, and as she scanned the room she realized that she was alone in the sanctuary, with the exception of two bodies on the floor - one she knew instinctively was the form her cousin. The other was smaller, and curled upon the heavy rug beneath the table of offering; she caught her breath when she realized that it was a child's form, most likely her cousin's daughter who had come to join her mother in preparation for evening service.
Wing scrambled to the elder Chatûl's side. Her cousin's spirit had already joined their ancesters, but the broken body was still warm. She crawled to the table of offering to find the child in a deep and odd sleep, as if under a spell; carefully placed beside her was Kesar's hunting knife, wet with her cousin's blood. How could this have happened?
Kesar felt her own blood boil as she concentrated on the strange scent now fading from the room. She drew herself to her feet, reaching for her staff as she raced out of the temple and into the woods surrounding the building. She tracked the creature who dared to spill the blood of her family line until she found herself, hours later, far from home; in frustration and exhaustion she made her way back to the temple, arriving just as the sun rose.
Her cousin's siblings met her on the temple steps. As they regarded her in angered silence Kesar realized that her clothing was caked in her cousin's dried blood, and as she began to speak, her neice, the child who had been asleep in the temple during her mother's brutal murder, burst through the gathering crowd. With a ferocious cry she threw Kesar's bloody dagger at her feet. The child's grandmother gathered the mourning Chatûl into her arms; the rest of the villagers regarded her with eyes of anger and accusation.
Kesar prepared to defend herself, but before she could speak Jolarä commanded her to be silent. In anger and puzzlement she stood with her fists clenched; eventually the elders sent her into the temple while they discussed what the punishment should be for this henious crime. While Kesar awaited their verdict, Jolarä instructed her to collect what belongings she could carry and escape from the wrath of the Chatûl; she aided the priestess in slipping away undetected, and gave her stamina beyond her years to travel long distances before her absence was discovered.
Kesar moved south as Jolarä instructed; her prayers for an explanation of her plight were never directly answered, but as the years went on Kesar's anger subsided, and she was careful to keep her true identity hidden. She moved from town to town, driven by Jolarä's will, until she came to Esteroak, where Jolarä instructed her to travel with an unlikely mix of the blessed living. It was here that she once again sensed the strange odor she'd smelled within the sacred walls of Nárendur in Aelin Lhg, and tracked the scent to a gold elf who was also travelling in disguise, who went by the name of Baron.