Bio

Orphaned children were not uncommon in the temples of En'Gorea, Jaz one of them. Originally raised to become an acolyte and eventually a Cloth Woman within the Temple of the Blind Path, to one day train in her temple's healing arts, fate led her down a different path. One that would lead her through ruin in an alter of corpses and an offering of blood. The Fate's had the duty of a soldier for her, a blade to fight in the strife of civil war. Nimble frame of a dainty shrine maiden was put to work to become the agile form of a rogue, the beginning of magical skill turned away from peaceful prayers of healing to sending men to meet their gods by her hand.

To an orphan who could not even call her priest caretakers family and so little to call her own, the things she could claim were made all the more important. This temple physical and real was her home, this devotion to her god intangible and true was her purpose, and this war stole all of that from her. Dead and left for carrion where not even a wanderer might stumble upon the hidden village that served as their grave. This loss of everything she'd known shadowed her like a disease over her mind. She wasn't driven insance, no, no berserker's rage. But it left her without a path, so she clung to the role she still held with the same devotion she'd given her temple, this war her new god. She'd begun learning to heal at her temple, but what the soldier's needed was a long knife and the hands that could use it, and someone who could learn magic to help them use it was the prioriy, so she learned. She learned, and she learned, and kept learning all these lessons that filled her mind with the memories that made aged soldiers sit together in silence at night. She learned to kill, to steal, to lie and deceit, to do all the things her scriptures spoke against. And, one day, when it seemed offerings in blood and prayers of death could no longer hold her together, she prayed. She prayed every prayer she'd kept inside, every prayer she'd formed on her lips but never spoken. She prayed to her god in tears not for forgiveness, but for guidance because her path was Blind and she was scared. But she knew already that gods rarely deign to speak to mortals, not in words at least.

Times of strife have a way of tearing people apart, but surviving them has a way of tying them together in the memories they make, some to share, some that'd torture her to her grave. Most of them a lesson in themselves of many things, ugly and good. These lessons taught her things about herself, too, like how fast she could be and how much faster she could become. How easy it was for her to no longer gag at the scent of blood. The lengths she'd go to survive. She maintains her faith and devotion, the kindness she was raised upon with it, but mixed in with the rose colored tint she views the world is all the dirty and its cynisism. Still she tries, each struggle like a test to do the good that she wanted to see.

Although on her own she tries to pick the action she feels is right, she is relatively easily caught in the flow of things, so while in a group she might try to discourage frownable acts, it is easy for her to just go with everyone else. While she feels strongly in her views and beliefs, she also has an innate adaptability that has saved her life though this adaptability makes her weak in her convictions. She might not think what she's doing is the right thing, but it's very easy for her to go with the crowd mentality even if she doesn't agree with them and she's too even tempered with them and herself to change that.