Welcome to Gaia! ::

Username :: KaiRosewolf
Time Zone :: EST

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Name :: Rachel Kageshin

Age :: 23

Gender :: Female

Appearance ::
Approximately 5’7”, Rachel is a very serious, intimidating, almost dangerous-looking character. Grey, chilly eyes are intensely focused, though one is covered by a black band tilted sideways over her face and right eye. Hair is long and slightly curly when let loose from its usual tight pin up upon her head, the dark brown hue darkening further at the tips of each strand to a tainted black. Her build is exceptionally athletic, all of her movements and reaction times groomed for the most effective and efficient methods.
Her attire rarely changes, and when it does, not many see her. Regardless, she tends to wear blacks, grays, and blues- anything that won’t stand out. Due to her particular trade, the traditional martial arts attire has been set aside for realistic and useful garb. Aside from the headband, she is almost never seen without gloves. Mostly the gloves allow her fingers to show for grappling purposes, but in other cases, even the fingers remain covered. Her left arm is riddled in red tattoos of gang-like, almost tribal, symbols never removed. Black pants are of smooth fabric, and soft-soled foot-wraps adorn her feet, softening and covering most noises of movement.

Personality ::
Although she looks hard-hearted, unfriendly and rather uncaring, cast from her background of a street life amongst gangs and fighters; it is not entirely her true self. She was raised into what she acts and looks like, and her deeply buried and bruised personality is far less selfish, and far more perceptive, reflective and emotional than she’d ever be willing to let on. While not terribly shy, her doings are subtle and left undone or unsaid unless she deems them worth doing at the time- her decisions deeply debated, weighed and calculated before making any move.

While she can be stubborn in her thoughts and beliefs, she is also quick to adapt in the course of events or situations. Many things rub raw on tender, barely healed emotions and resentful beliefs, which often lead to a snapping fury, a quick exit, or even a violent response. Rachel works in extremes. Either she is tranquil and reserved, observing the world around her with intense, studious, detail-oriented eyes, or she is in the world’s face, ready to take it all on, and defeat it.

To those who dig past her rocky shell, they will find a fiercely loyal, protective, genuine, and at times jealous character, one who claims a vast insight into various philosophies and inquiries, and one who will go to extremes to fulfill any worthy goal. Little is left unnoticed or unquestioned. Everything has an importance, everything a purpose. And she wastes no efforts in pursuing her questions, at her core harboring an appreciation for life which she has never been allowed to pursue.

Keywords :: Determined, Introverted, Realistic, Perceptive, Combative

History ::
Born to a mother of Eurlek blood too young to care for her, Rachel was part of street life before she even knew what street life was. She gave her her western name, and little else to take with her through the long road to follow. As soon as she could walk and understand enough to feed and dress herself, she was given up into a younger gang. She learned at the age of six to steal to maintain dues to the gang leaders, to root through garbage for dinner, and to break into stores to keep clothes on her back. Life was never easy, but it was the only life she knew, thus she had nothing to compare it to, and nothing to complain about.

As time progressed, young Rachel began to notice how people viewed her. Passersby glanced at her with disgust; like a stray dog whose hair was matted and greasy, and whose body was malnourished and bone-thin. They wouldn’t award her a second glance, let alone the affection that little kids desired so deeply.

Within the second largest city of Otalin, deep in its bowels, the rival gangs had risen and began to persecute the younger members of the gangs to hinder their numbers. One evening, Rachel- the only youth of Eurlek blood and easily singled out because of it- found herself and a friend surrounded. A great amount of violence ensued, leaving her friend murdered, and herself in grave danger. Like out of a fairy tale, a figure clad in a hood and shadows moved in, incapacitating her attackers in moments, and taking her with him as he left.

She fought the man, kicking and screaming the whole way- until she figured out his intentions. A master of martial arts, and an assassin by trade, the man was willing to give her an out- if she agreed unconditionally to his proposition. The street kid who was known by none and would be missed by none would be apprenticed to the trade.. and die with it.

Years went by. For a girl of ten years at the start, the proposition didn’t seem so bad- that was, until she began. Training enwrapped training, missions enwrapped missions. Her focus and motivation was on returning the favor to those who stole her friend from her so long ago, but even that at times was not enough to pull her up and she completed and surpassed that goal. While she genuinely loved the martial arts, the power, the inner strength, it was never quite right. She aged, forgetting who she was, and focusing on what she was supposed to be.

Most daemons manifest at a time of youth, but Rachel lied to herself out of need for such a length of time, this was pressed back a great deal- until her early twenties. Most daemons manifest at a time of trauma, but her traumas were life long to such an extent, it took a moment of clarity to find a voice that was not only her own, but more than her own. It was simply one of those brief and rare evenings of rest, and as she stared up into the darkening night, an insight brought the question to mind:

“Is this who I really am?”
And the answer: ‘No, it isn’t.’
Like a star that dissolved into being from twilight, a glowing light hovered before her. Silent; as quiet and unseen as she’d always been, now it could be seen- this little part of her.

Being in this life of never being known or seen had at least one selfish benefit. With each completed deal, she was allotted equivalent payment, and also the opportunity to pilfer whatever she could carry with her from the home of the target. Though, the latter was not quite as often, as taking too much was leaving too great a footprint behind her. And with this small fortune she’d accrued over her years of practice, she had enough to make a final trip. Thus, with the clothes on her back, her master’s sirname, and enough, she imagined, for what tuition there may, she stole into the night and vanished, her goal to seek the school she’d heard tale of. The tale of Jaradin College.