A haunted young escapee from The Dominion of Angar


A young human woman looking uncomfortable in ill fitting leather armor and carrying a walking staff. Physically unremarkable, at only 5’4" and 130 pounds, with dark hair and eyes. But one look into those eyes tell you something different entirely.


A sudden jolt wrenched her back to consciousness from a half delirious state of sleep. Panic set in as the world rumbled and shook as she flailed around in the total darkness, pressed in by wooden walls on all sides. The wagon! She was crammed into one of the storage compartments of the wagon as it rocked and bounced down an old dirt path. Freedom, or perhaps death. Either was preferable to where she had been.

The plan had been hatched only a month ago. Her earliest memory was of the horrid face and foul stench of The Master, leering down at her. She was a tiny child, confused and scared. Only later did she realize that was to be one of her better memories. As she grew older her understanding, and her horror, grew. The Master was a powerful lich, with a sneering distain for all living things. She had been purchased as a baby for one of his many experiments. People said she looked like she came from The Five Banners Kingdoms, which was somewhere on the mainland, but that didn’t mean much in the here and now. Maybe someday it would.

As she grew older she showed a certain skill for sustaining The Master’s other living subjects. Tending to their sometimes horrific wounds, or helping them (sometimes) recover from a burning fever. It wasn’t something The Master’s undead minions were very good at. On rare occasions she would get to interact with living creatures, sometimes human, sometimes not, who brought in supplies. The Master called her “Gara”, which was a bastardization of “meat bag” in his guttural tongue. He seemed to derive great amusement from it.

For years she did what she could to survive, and to help the others as much as she could. One day her luck would run out, as it had for so many before. When? Where? How? Of course the Why didn’t matter, because there probably would be none. Something finally snapped inside her the day she was cleaning up after a particularly gruesome experiment that had had gone horribly wrong. She had to get out, and soon, or there would be nothing left of her to save.

That is when she had made “the plan”. A particularly vile human slaver, Nicolas, came by with his wagon every few months. He always made time to speak to her, and his undead soldiers were familiar with her. Once his cargo was unloaded, she could hide herself in one of the wooden storage boxes on the wagon, which would now be empty. She had thought about trying to get to Tul Amangier, but she had heard stories about what they did to humans who had worked for the undead. If she could make it to the coast undetected, maybe she could somehow get aboard a ship to the mainland…


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