Causing men to cover and cower since 2007
Personality: Kaena is an aloof sort of person, with reserved opinions, and, when the mood strikes, a rather cold fish. The only people she will warm up to are those who can get past her exterior defense mechanism - and those have to be some pretty determined/attracted people. Keep in mind, however, that just because she is moody, doesn't mean she's unresponsive. A couple well-placed jokes or comments should be enough to get you started.
As a friend, she will be protective, but not to a fault. An insult to a friend is an insult to her, and capable of causing enough anger to spark pretty nasty results. Her temper is on a shorter fuse than most others, resulting in frequent emotional explosions and arguments. She is highly sarcastic, using in everyday speech, in arguments, or whenever the mood takes her. Which is often.
Fears: Being caught off-guard, snakes, and being too high up. Her limit on this last is maybe 200 metres.
Hobbies/Pastimes: Meditation, weapons/sparring practice.
Weapons: One dirk, sheathed crosswise at the small of her back, two small throwing knives in upside-down holsters on her upper arms (two per arm, that is), her belt, and the tie at the end of her braid.
Battle style: Kaena mostly uses guerrilla warfare, but in a straight-out fight, she is defensive, letting the opponent wear themselves down, or lulling them into a false sense of security before attacking. She prefers hand-to-hand rather than ranged combat, using shadow and cover to her advantage,
Weakness: She has a debilitating fear of snakes — like, she’ll go out of her way to avoid them. Also, because of her initially distrustful nature, it’s difficult for her to form alliances.
Strengths: She’s an excellent person to have on your side in a fight. She’s fast, she’s focused, and she knows what she’s doing. She also won’t stab anyone in the back, unless there’s VERY good reason. And actual proof.
Grandfather - Soren Veresh (Council Elder in city of Na’an) Father - Kallan Veresh (Head of Law Enforcement, city of Na’an) Mother - Cerys (Nihallah) Veresh Brothers (6) - Aneurin, Lowrie, Alin, Tegert, Soren (Jr.), and Nial. Ages 17 to 6.
History: Kaena was born in the city of Na’an, along the southern coast of the continent. Her grandfather was so proud of this little girl; he wanted nothing more than for her to follow in his footsteps as a city politician. Her father, however, was training her in law enforcement and fighting techniques. While he was at work, her mother was busy helping her learn how to cook and other “womanly” pursuits.
Her best friend as a child, was David Ether. The two were practically inseparable, having grown up together in the same town. When she was fifteen, war hit the village, and sent everyone scattering . . . including Kaena and David. He went for the forests, and her family escaped to the city.
After the move, it became a regular occurrence for Kaena to play-fight with her younger brothers. It was at the age of sixteen that she finally made her decision: she joined the city law enforcement. Within a year, she was a member of the special operations team in charge of undercover investigations and inquiries within the city.
On one of her investigations, false evidence was submitted by an informant that painted her as the person the team had been pursuing. A warrant was issued for Kaena’s arrest, and she was subsequently found “guilty” by way of the evidence. She was sentenced to be exiled.
Three years ago, Kaena left Na’an, and didn’t look back. Her family had excommunicated her, and her bright future was hidden. Still, she was not without her talents. Since then, she has made a name for herself as a skilled and reputable bounty hunter, assassin, and general locator-of-lost-miscellanea.
The moon overhead was beginning to get on her nerves. Casting an irritated glare heavenward, Kaena silently cursed the full moon and the lack of cloud cover. It was going to make her job harder, certainly . . . but far from impossible. She’d been in trickier situations.
The camp lay just ahead — a veritable city of dirty canvas tents, alive with the flickering light of campfires and the raucous shouts of drunk soldiers. The occasional scream of some unfortunate female was all too audible. Kaena knew that the same fate would await her if she were caught.
Bellying down, she began worming her way across the large open space standing between her and the nearest tent. She didn’t move in a straight line; she wove back and forth in wide arcs, occasionally doubling back, ranging as far as fifty metres from side to side. This would buy her time should they have tracker beasts to send after her.
She finally reached the edge of the camp, pausing by a tent that was dark. The noises issuing from within indicated that it’s occupants wouldn’t be paying her attention any time soon. Ignoring them, Kaena peered around the edge, into the camp, eyes narrowed in concentration. Set up as it was, in concentric rings with avenues in between, she had a clear view to the Command Tent in the centre, with it’s distinct red walls. The generals would be in the first ring out from it, snug in their little dens of power and depravity.
Although it was well past midnight, soldiers still stumbled about, followed by the women who followed most armies. Kaena studied every tent in the vicinity, marking the location of every shadow or piece of cover that there was. Pulling the long neck of her undershirt up, she covered her nose and mouth, and went in.
Weaving between tents, under carts, and ducking behind water barrels, Kaena made her way into the heart of the encampment. Slipping underneath a large wagon, she eyed the command tent and the fronts of those beyond it. If her information was correct . . . aha!
The symbol on the entrance flap of a forest-green canvas construct told her exactly where she was to strike. She stole forward again, glancing about for observers.
Silent as a moonshadow, she dodged from tent to tent until she reached her target. Circling, she paused every few metres to listen for sounds within. On her seventeenth such pause, she heard it. Snoring.
Reaching down, she tugged three tent stakes free from the base of the canvas ‘wall,’ and ducked under the loose fabric. In the dim interior, she made out the silhouette of her target, sprawled on a military-issue cot, his stomach rising and falling, bristly mustache fluttering as he breathed.
She didn’t waste any time getting close. A slash to the throat and a stab to the heart, and it was over.