[img=http://i1076.photobucket.com/albums/w456/Nyxella/Projects/5ea9ce84-18be-47db-943a-ff6d93dfa5f6_zpsab5af006.jpg]

[b]Name:[/b] 
Nairi

[b]Age:[/b] 
20

[b]Preferred Gladiator Form:[/b] 
Thraex

[b]Bio:[/b]

Born in captivity to an unwilling mother and an unknown father, she was no different from the many ‘high-maintenance mistakes’ running around at the villa, or so the matronly attendants thought. When her words came, they were as strong as the legs that carried her not nine months from leaving the womb. Rather than remark at the girl’s growth and fine form, those around her made sure she never forgot about the filth in her blood and the foreign taint that attributed to her temper. It was often said that her spirit was meant for a different body, the way she played and fought with the local boys. As she blossomed into her adolescence, her trade value became increasingly apparent, however, she was too unruly and was shipped off to the barbaric West to be sold into slavery there.

For years she was to be her broker’s bane, never straying from the selling block for more than a handful of hours. She refused to bow at the feet of a Dominus, spat at the thought of tending to a Domina, and reacted violently to any attempts to prime her for the line of work she looked more suited for. It became such a regular occurrence that the broker could almost predict when her escorts would lament their foul luck and return for their coin. Perhaps the only touch of fortune was that she healed quickly from whatever beatings her disobedience earned. Although, when her reputation became more commonly known, no amount of trade potential could save her from the pit once her market value plummeted. To regain what little coin he could, and to spite the problematic wench, the broker sold her at the lowest price to a newly established ludus. A death sentence would have been swift and kind.