My mother was a slave. Born on Aina o Ka La and her body has the scars to prove it. Cerak At'Thul the curse of the islands the Nazrani call home. She was moved from various sites in her childhood till eventually as a young woman she arrived at the Black Bay itself. She was feisty then and often proved too much to handle for various owners, fortunately her skills and education managed to keep her alive. Fate had always smiled on her. Kept close to home, albeit in darker regions. None the less it was still home.

This changed within a fortnight.

Trade was always ludicrous across Arethil and this specific trade deal was no different. Twenty slaves total. Two groups of ten. Group one directed to be transferred to a location in Amol Kalit and the other group was to delivered to Molthal. The portal stones would cut the travel distance in half but there was still a journey to be made and a check point to be seen.

My mother was to be sentenced to Molthal and she never made it there. The check point was several miles away from the portal stone in Amol Kalit and the band of sand elves hired to guard the caravan group was ambushed by another tribe of their own kind. My mother was taken along with any other goods. This is how she met my father and eventually I was born. A half breed. Half Nazrani and half Abtati. Growing up among my own tribe was rough. Treated with a form of mild neglect as if I were a stray animal or unwelcome guest. I was taught how to survive in the wild by my father, how to barter and trade. My mother taught me finer arts. Education. To read and understand others better. My mother named me Essa and my father...well the name he gave me is tad name to pronounce for someone like you. But I'll give you my tribe nickname, Kenpachi.