Nyxella
TokyoPewPew
Tlaloc
Character Submission number deux!
Y'all might remember her from Solveig's "meet a character from another game" story.
Marassa
Female Khajiit (Cathay Breed)| 25 | The Thief
Profile
Birthplace
Senchal, Pelletine
Appearance
Travel-worn, rugged, and hard in both disposition and appearance, Marassa is the embodiment of someone who’s spent their entire adult life on the road, braving the weather, wildlife, and dangerous people alike. Standing at a modest 5’07” in height, Marassa certainly towers over few people, but she is certainly formidable for her somewhat defined musculature; although hardly approaching a well-fed and constantly training gladiator in terms of physique, she is in exceptional physical condition despite her somewhat scrawny appearance, given her training and long days marching and fighting in heavy armour; most of what she eats is burned away through physical exertion thanks to her non-sedimentary lifestyle.
Typical of a Cathay Khajiit, Marassa walks flatfooted like a human or elf and employs a short but symmetrical snout and muzzle that conceal a set of sharp, pointed feline teeth. Sporting high cheekbones and a wide jaw, she certainly appears to be robust, and she has the stories to confirm that. Her wide brow is adorned with a short-kept mane that is braided to neck-length black hair, each of which is ended with a golden ring, engraved in Pelletinian style. Likewise, her ears are pierced in a similar fashion, contrasting nicely against her stripped and spotted chocolate-brown fur coat that is lighter about the muzzle and chest, and the underside of her tail, arms, and her calves.
Perhaps Marassa’s most striking feature are her eyes, a dark amber that stare back with narrow feline slits nestled in a depression of dark brown fur, giving her the impression of having war paint that affords her a somewhat fierce appearance that matches her rather unapproachable personality. If any were to see her outside of her armour in her simple cotton clothing, her body has several scars that are mostly covered by fur, but still leave a few visible white streaks across her back, arms and abdomen, along with a couple of very slight markings on her right cheek that are barely visible to the casual onlooker.
Typical of a Cathay Khajiit, Marassa walks flatfooted like a human or elf and employs a short but symmetrical snout and muzzle that conceal a set of sharp, pointed feline teeth. Sporting high cheekbones and a wide jaw, she certainly appears to be robust, and she has the stories to confirm that. Her wide brow is adorned with a short-kept mane that is braided to neck-length black hair, each of which is ended with a golden ring, engraved in Pelletinian style. Likewise, her ears are pierced in a similar fashion, contrasting nicely against her stripped and spotted chocolate-brown fur coat that is lighter about the muzzle and chest, and the underside of her tail, arms, and her calves.
Perhaps Marassa’s most striking feature are her eyes, a dark amber that stare back with narrow feline slits nestled in a depression of dark brown fur, giving her the impression of having war paint that affords her a somewhat fierce appearance that matches her rather unapproachable personality. If any were to see her outside of her armour in her simple cotton clothing, her body has several scars that are mostly covered by fur, but still leave a few visible white streaks across her back, arms and abdomen, along with a couple of very slight markings on her right cheek that are barely visible to the casual onlooker.
Personality
Brutally honest, uninviting, and arrogant are all words that have described Marassa at some point or another. Preferring the company of herself and herself alone, Marassa wastes few words with people she does not know, and she expresses minimal interest in getting to know people. Unafraid of confrontation and at times deliberately antagonizing, she can be rather provocative when she sets her mind to it.
While most would expect a Khajiit to share a dimilar dialect and disposition as their peers, Marassa is an anomaly among her kind in that she speaks with a clear, almost Imperial infliction and entirely in first-person pronouns. She has explained this as such, ”Men and Mer do not cut Khajiit slack when interacting with them; to them, we’re all thieves, murderers, and skooma pushing low-lives that will ruin their lives. Even the most enlightened person can be a racist piece of troll shit, so I’ve found if you walk like them, talk like them, and act like them, the occasional person might forget that I’m not like them. Talk like a weirdo, get treated like a weirdo, it seems.” While some Khajiit might criticize her for hiding from her cultural heritage if not outright rejecting it, Marassa couldn’t care less about what they think. ”It’s earned me meals and safe places to rest my head at night. Let them squawk; I’m allowed in cities they aren’t.”
Marassa is very slow to trust, and she thinks even the kindest person has a selfish agenda behind their self-gratifying smiles. She thinks little of rank or station of birth, finding nobles in particular amusing in that they think their names mean anything worthwhile. She has a laser-like focus on her personal mission, to find her half-brother, and everything else is rather secondary to that. However, Marassa is a survivor and will do whatever it takes to make it another day, even if it means offering her services to people who have something she needs.
While she is indeed standoffish and quick to brush people off, Marassa is a lonely individual who enjoys remote companionship, even if she would never admit it, and nights around a camp fire listening to other traveller’s stories have been some of the few bright spots on an otherwise trying life. While she doesn’t typically show vulnerability, she’s struggled since childhood with feeling discarded and inadequate, and much of her current behaviour and outlook is a result of her striking back at the world so she’ll never be seen as weak or a mistake again. This unfortunately results in her often having little empathy for others, even if they are in peril. It simply is not her problem to address.
Most of her interests are rustic in nature, including relaxing by the fireside, swimming, trapping, and the sounds of the forests. She enjoys wild flowers, songbirds, and even the howls of wolves. Not one who enjoys cities or crowds, Marassa nevertheless treasures good foods and the few times she doesn’t actually have to provide for herself. She is also an accomplished reader, and books have often been one of the few entertainment outlets she’s had while traveling, often bartering and trading books with other travelers to keep herself stimulated and her mind sharp. She also has an impressive visual memory and attention to detail, and she has often drawn up maps of places she’s been and routes traveled, a necessity if one does not wish to become lost.
While most would expect a Khajiit to share a dimilar dialect and disposition as their peers, Marassa is an anomaly among her kind in that she speaks with a clear, almost Imperial infliction and entirely in first-person pronouns. She has explained this as such, ”Men and Mer do not cut Khajiit slack when interacting with them; to them, we’re all thieves, murderers, and skooma pushing low-lives that will ruin their lives. Even the most enlightened person can be a racist piece of troll shit, so I’ve found if you walk like them, talk like them, and act like them, the occasional person might forget that I’m not like them. Talk like a weirdo, get treated like a weirdo, it seems.” While some Khajiit might criticize her for hiding from her cultural heritage if not outright rejecting it, Marassa couldn’t care less about what they think. ”It’s earned me meals and safe places to rest my head at night. Let them squawk; I’m allowed in cities they aren’t.”
Marassa is very slow to trust, and she thinks even the kindest person has a selfish agenda behind their self-gratifying smiles. She thinks little of rank or station of birth, finding nobles in particular amusing in that they think their names mean anything worthwhile. She has a laser-like focus on her personal mission, to find her half-brother, and everything else is rather secondary to that. However, Marassa is a survivor and will do whatever it takes to make it another day, even if it means offering her services to people who have something she needs.
While she is indeed standoffish and quick to brush people off, Marassa is a lonely individual who enjoys remote companionship, even if she would never admit it, and nights around a camp fire listening to other traveller’s stories have been some of the few bright spots on an otherwise trying life. While she doesn’t typically show vulnerability, she’s struggled since childhood with feeling discarded and inadequate, and much of her current behaviour and outlook is a result of her striking back at the world so she’ll never be seen as weak or a mistake again. This unfortunately results in her often having little empathy for others, even if they are in peril. It simply is not her problem to address.
Most of her interests are rustic in nature, including relaxing by the fireside, swimming, trapping, and the sounds of the forests. She enjoys wild flowers, songbirds, and even the howls of wolves. Not one who enjoys cities or crowds, Marassa nevertheless treasures good foods and the few times she doesn’t actually have to provide for herself. She is also an accomplished reader, and books have often been one of the few entertainment outlets she’s had while traveling, often bartering and trading books with other travelers to keep herself stimulated and her mind sharp. She also has an impressive visual memory and attention to detail, and she has often drawn up maps of places she’s been and routes traveled, a necessity if one does not wish to become lost.
Background
Born during a terrible winter storm in the tropical Southern peninsula of the Kingdom of Pelletine under the sign of the Thief several months after her family was assaulted and mother raped by corsairs that had prowled along the Southern Elsweyr coast and finding a lone moon sugar plantation outside of the Senchal city limits to be an easy target, Marassa was thrust into the world with the odds already stacked against the unwanted bastard infant. Things would not get any easier, even from day one.
As an adolescent, Marassa’s parents, S’Riraya (mother) and Ra’Nair (father) tried to love and care of the 4th child of their family, but she remained a symbol of the horrible event that had seen their youngest son abducted and the mother defiled by one of the corsairs, a Khajiit man they had heard referred to as Dar’Nara. Having her biological father’s eyes and mane, Marassa took after the hated man more so than her mother, which infrequently set her father into fits of rage, loudly expressing his displeasure at having to care for a child that wasn’t his and should not have been born. It was a sentiment that was engrained in the young Khajiit, one her two brothers, J’Tagah and J’Zaddi were all too eager to embrace to not only please their father, but to express their own outrage that they lost their younger brother to the young girl who was thrust upon their family. It did not help that both parents were Cathay, like the youngest brother who was taken, Zaveed. J’Tagah was an Alfiq and incapable of speech, and J’Zaddi was an Ohmes, and as such looked far closer to a Bosmer than a typical Khajiit. The fact Marassa was of the same breed as both of her parents was seen as a slight and a cruel joke by the gods. As such, Marassa’s family never bothered to give her a prefix to her name. She simply wasn’t worthy of the endearment or acknowledgement past the bare essentials of keeping this girl alive.
Given her mother’s predisposition to overindulge in moon sugar and in a few cases, Skooma, it was clear she was struggling with her predicament and choices. On one particularly memorable day, a tearful, intoxicated and enraged S’Riraya threw a vase at Marassa, screaming that she should have thrown her into the sea when she was born. The admission shocked Marassa, who before that moment looked at her mother as the only supportive person in her life, and S’Riraya had tried to raise her and live her, as difficult as it was. However, the past was not easily overcome, and that single night changed Marassa’s destiny forever. After years of hearing how the family wanted Zaveed back and Marassa gone, the only way she would earn their love and acceptance would be to find him and bring him home.
And so the very next day, three weeks after her seventh birthday, Marassa left home and ventured into the city of Senchal, an hour walk away. Since Senchal was a port city, perhaps Zaveed was there, Marassa figured. A child walking the streets of one of the most dangerous and crime ridden cities in all of Tamriel was asking for trouble, and sure enough, it found her before long. Confronted by two men, sailors from the Dominion on shore leave, Marassa was cornered in a back alley, with nothing but a stick to defend herself. It was a fearful situation she would never forget, but also, where her fortunes turned for the better; as one of the men grabbed her by the wrist, her suddenly cried out in pain as an unseen assailant bludgeoned him with a cane. Marassa was awestruck; an older gentleman, a Suthay-raht of middle age with greying fur brought down the two sailors with speed, grace, and precision that the young girl had never imagined possible. Having rescued the child, the man asked Marassa what she was thinking wandering the streets alone. His voice, weathered like an oak and unlike any she’d heard before, was kindly but authoritative. She answered dutifully that she was searching for her brother. Without breaking stride or hesitation, she immediately asked if he would teach her how to fight like he did.
With a smile, the gentleman said, “We’ll see.”
The man’s name was Ra’Rasargo, a modestly famous adventurer from years ago that had travelled Tamriel and writing a series of memoirs that became popular not only in the Khajiit kingdoms, but even finding their way within Bosmeri and even Imperial, Redguard, and Breton circles, since the Khajiit’s adventures took him to those exotic lands and he painted them all in a vivid, favorable light. In his retirement years, he decided to open a dojo to pass on his skills to those willing to pay the price of a man who had put Senchal on the map for something other than its unflattering reputation for crime and piracy. He had happened across Marassa when he was on the way back from the market, and he was intensely curious about how such a naïve and young girl was wandering Senchal’s streets alone.
Marassa explained her predicament at home, what her family was like and her plan to find her half-brother, to which Ra’Rasargo listened politely. He explained that he was not taking on any students, but he would offer a few lessons to help her be at least a little prepared for the world, but he’d have to take her back to her family since they’d be worried about her missing. Disheartened, but not in a position to argue, Marassa allowed herself to be escorted back home via carriage, where Ra’Rasargo witnessed firsthand exactly how unpleasant Marassa’s home was. Explaining to her parents exactly what had happened, they did not even wait for him to leave to begin chastising her. Intervening, Ra’Rasargo introduced himself formally, and with Marassa’s father, at least, the man was well known. Ra’Rasargo said that he was looking to take on a helper since his body wasn’t what it once was and that Marassa had proven to have been an exceptional help already. Agreeing to allow Marassa to help under Ra’Rasargo if for no other reason than to get her out of their lives for a good portion of each day, Marassa’s parents agreed, even arranging a carriage there and back to the plantation every day. And so, unbeknownst to Marassa’s family and the young girl, her apprenticeship had officially begun.
After a full year of cleaning the dojo, helping prepare meals and other housekeeping tasks, Marassa went to pick up the broom one day and found a long wooden practice sword in its place. Taking the practice weapon in hand, she sought out Ra’Rasargo out, asking if it were a gift. The mentor smiled, telling her that she’d have to earn it. Spending the day teaching her the basics of sword stances, Ra’Rasargo finished the day by telling her that she had earned her place, and his respect, by being responsible and a diligent worker for someone so young and he asked her if her goal was still to find her brother. Upon hearing her answer, the Suthay-raht enrolled Marassa as one of his students. And so began her training in earnest.
For the next ten years, Marassa developed from a young scrawny girl into a young woman who was disciplined, a quick study, and irrepressibly enthusiastic. While she was trained with a one-handed practice sword, her own lack of strength and bad habits that just couldn’t be drilled out of her made Marassa grow into a two-handed swordfighter, developing something of an unorthodox stance, but not something that was entirely unheard of. Even after her strength built, Marassa preferred the longer and heavier blades, finding confidence in the reach and power one could put into the weapon, and by her own sheepish admission, it made her look heroic. Likewise, while she was quick and agile, she did not have the instincts and reflexes to block blows reliably, and so heavier armour was introduced, which in turn built her strength and confidence considerably. By the end of her training, Marassa was an exceptional student and a proficient swordswoman.
At the age of nine, some measure of innate magical ability was noted in Marassa when herself and a pair of other students had found a beginner’s spell tome to try and cast Candlelight. While the other two gave up fairly easily, Marassa felt something of a connection and her own determination to succeed, especially after hearing Ra’Rasargo’s wife, Dra’Sasheira who was an accomplished mage and taught her own lessons to aspiring Khajiit mages in the same dojo, mention in one of her lessons that magical energy was present in all living things, but some people like the Altmer had the innate ability to tap into that energy like a runner taps into his stamina. Others, she reasoned, could learn to do such a thing through great concentration and practice. Marassa wanted to put that to the test. After two weeks of struggling with the tome, reading it cover to cover and treating its methods like her own swordsmanship and physical conditioning, the incredible happened; for a fleeting moment, a brilliant incandescent orb the size of an acorn emerged in her palm before becoming snuffed out. Elated and encouraged, even after several days between successes, and after two months of practice and guidance from Dra’Sasheira, Marassa was able to form a fully developed mage light spell. Marassa was well on her way to becoming a mage- of sorts. Augmenting her regular training with quick side lessons after training sessions, Marassa spent the next several years mastering a small handful of spells. While she still has a long way to go to even match the level of the average rung of magical intuitional proficiency one would expect from the College of Winterhold or the long defunct Mage’s Guild. That was never her end goal, regardless; it was simply another talent that could aid her in her eventual mission, a destination she never wavered from.
It wasn’t a secret that Marassa was Ra’Rasargo’s favoured pupil; the two had shared an immediate bond from the first day they met by chance, and a strong bond of mutual respect developed between the two, even going so far that in some ways, Ra’Rasargo was like a surrogate father for Marassa, while she became something like the daughter him and Dra’Sasheira never had. He shared his tales with her of his time as an adventurer, his treasure collection, correspondence with some famous individuals across Tamriel, and a number of other things that only she was privileged to. As she decided she was of age to begin her journey, Ra’Rasargo had a gift for her; using the Septims he had been saving from the leftover carriage fare her family had allotted over the years, Ra’Rasargo had managed to commission a Skyforge Steel greatsword through his contacts in Whiterun for Marassa, wanting to give her the best possible chance moving forward. Included in this parcel was a set of common steel armour of Nord craftsmanship, since Ra’Rasargo believed it to be the best quality one could buy on a modest budget. While the sword was something of a rarity and in some ways priceless due to its scarcity, it turns out calling in favours years after saving a life has perks.
Clad in new armour and with a deeply personal weapon in hand, Marassa bid her two mentors a tearful goodbye and promised to return when she found Zaveed, Marassa departed Senchal, heading North, years of planning about to be put to the test. Showing up at her home one last time in her new equipment, finally putting to rest the suspicion she was receiving training at the dojo, Marassa told her family not to expect to see her again. There was no love lost at this departure; she no longer cared for their approval or acceptance.
That was nearly ten years ago, and it almost ended within a month when Marassa had attempted to cross the Anequina desert unprepared, only surviving thanks to one of the nomadic tribes of the North. Nursed back to health and given more adequate traveling materials to survive a desert crossing as well as the wisdom of those who called the desert sands home, Marassa set out again and in earnest began her quest, learning quickly that the road was a merciless place for the unprepared and the inexperienced. Still, despite the countless hardships she faced, learning how to make snares to catch small game, scavenging food, where to find clean water, each lesson prefaced with near-death experiences quite often including starvation and near-dehydration on top of illness, animal attacks, and exposure to the elements, each settlement and building was salvation, and whatever books on local flora and fauna, important landmarks and sources of water became worth their price in gold. Often paying her way with labour and odd jobs, Marassa was within two years no longer the wild-eyed and excitable young girl she used to be; the woman who emerged was something remarkably harder and far less enthusiastic. Every day was a new and often painful lesson, and even figuring out how to survive and make shelters resulted in burns, entrapment, puncture wounds, and all sorts of other unpleasant calamities. Had it not been for the handful of healing spells Marassa had learned from Dra’Sasheira, she would have died long ago. Despite the attack from wildlife and creatures of the lands, it turned out the real heartless beasts were those of the two legged variety; other people.
Marassa was only 17 when she first had to take a life; a trio of bandits that saw her as an easy mark as she was traversing Cyrodiil, not far from the Argonian border. The experience rattled her; she had always known people were capable of such depravity, but to witness it first hand was something else entirely. This was a situation of life and death, there would be no walking away from it if things didn’t turn the way she hoped. Forcing herself to remain calm and remember the years of drills and stances she’d trained with for years, she was surprised to find herself not only able to fend off their blows but the openings in their own defences were glaring and easy to exploit. The difference between a trained warrior, albeit inexperience, and a group of opportunistic bandits who likely only ever targeted victims they thought would be a quick kill, or at least wealthy enough to take the risk. The sword alone would have been enough to make Marassa a prime target for irrefutable sorts, she discovered. Killing one of the attackers with a decapitating swing and amputating a hand of another, the surviving bandits made off, leaving Marassa with a corpse. Not quite prepared for the harsh reality of such ferocious bloodshed, Marassa was awash with a typhoon of conflicting feelings, but she was pleasantly surprised she didn’t shed a tear over the incident. The bastard had what was coming.
And he certainly wasn’t the last to try.
Each new day brought peril, and even bedding down for the night was something that necessitated light sleeping and a hand on her sword at all times. This state of hypervigilance quickly drove Marassa into the distrustful person she would eventually become; literally anyone could be a threat, and often, they were. Some, like the bandits, were overt. Others were manipulative and tried to take her when her guard was down after some token generosity. Her armour became damaged in time, and what coin she could pick off her failed assailants were often spent on maintaining her equipment when she arrived in settlements. What precious little remained often went to a bed for the night or some fresh food, but for the most part, Marassa was alone in the wilds and discovering the reality that just because you’ve planned on something your entire life doesn’t mean it was going to be simple. Determined not to turn back and return in shame, she pressed on, and like shedding pieces of excess clothing, the young idealistic and naïve girl that had resolved many years ago to save Zaveed was left behind mile by mile, eventually refining her into the hard young woman she is today.
Sticking mainly to the coasts (but avoiding Argonia as a whole due to how utterly traversable the swamps and jungles are, and the copious diseases that fester in those lands), Marassa’s journey has taken her through Eastern Cyrodiil, Morrowind, and more recently Skyrim, where she has been the last three years after exhausting leads in Morrowind. To Marassa’s surprise, she had rather enjoyed her four year stay in Morrowind as the climate and people were unlike any she had met before, and in the more rural regions that weren’t governed by regional politics nearly as intensely as the cities, proved to be much more hospitable to outsiders provided they were willing to volunteer their services in exchange for goods and a place to rest. Marassa exchanged physical labour, trapping, and dealing with bandits and highway men in exchange for staying in barns, stables, and sheds, meals, and information. Often checking coastal shipwrecks and becoming well acquainted to the use of water breathing and resist cold potions to carry on her search, signs of Zaveed had proven elusive. However, the time in Morrowind was well spent; Marassa had learned a handful of spells, had become somewhat immersed in Dunmeri culture and language, learned what plants and animals were safe to eat and how to prepare them, and in particular found a kinship with the Ashlanders who seemed to be somewhat of an outsider subculture in the Dunmer social strata.
However, after the Nerevarine re-emerged, change was in the air and with it a sense of foreboding. With the civil war in Skyrim having drawn to a conclusion, the Khajiit decided it was time to carry on her search in the frigid Northern promise, where she has been residing the past three years, dealing with encounters with Stormcloak hardliners, ferocious wildlife, Forsworn, and the usual assortment of ill-intentioned bastards that only respect the end of a blade. Although not integrating or finding as much success or enjoyment in Skyrim, partially because her trail has gone literally and figuratively cold, Marassa has tried to keep one step ahead of the Akaviri invasion, following information provided by displaced refugees, soldiers, couriers and even the Khajiit caravans, she knows that the noose is tightening and there isn’t going to be very many places to go to escape the Kamal creatures. And so, upon learning that many of Windhelm’s evacuees fled to Dawnstar, Marassa made her way to the diminutive harbour town and quickly learned of a mercenary company that had a ship. It wouldn’t be the first time she offered her services to get what she wanted, and it wouldn’t be the last, and safe passage to escape an incoming invasion force seemed to be a fair trade for becoming a sword for hire.
That is, until she picked up her trail once more.
As an adolescent, Marassa’s parents, S’Riraya (mother) and Ra’Nair (father) tried to love and care of the 4th child of their family, but she remained a symbol of the horrible event that had seen their youngest son abducted and the mother defiled by one of the corsairs, a Khajiit man they had heard referred to as Dar’Nara. Having her biological father’s eyes and mane, Marassa took after the hated man more so than her mother, which infrequently set her father into fits of rage, loudly expressing his displeasure at having to care for a child that wasn’t his and should not have been born. It was a sentiment that was engrained in the young Khajiit, one her two brothers, J’Tagah and J’Zaddi were all too eager to embrace to not only please their father, but to express their own outrage that they lost their younger brother to the young girl who was thrust upon their family. It did not help that both parents were Cathay, like the youngest brother who was taken, Zaveed. J’Tagah was an Alfiq and incapable of speech, and J’Zaddi was an Ohmes, and as such looked far closer to a Bosmer than a typical Khajiit. The fact Marassa was of the same breed as both of her parents was seen as a slight and a cruel joke by the gods. As such, Marassa’s family never bothered to give her a prefix to her name. She simply wasn’t worthy of the endearment or acknowledgement past the bare essentials of keeping this girl alive.
Given her mother’s predisposition to overindulge in moon sugar and in a few cases, Skooma, it was clear she was struggling with her predicament and choices. On one particularly memorable day, a tearful, intoxicated and enraged S’Riraya threw a vase at Marassa, screaming that she should have thrown her into the sea when she was born. The admission shocked Marassa, who before that moment looked at her mother as the only supportive person in her life, and S’Riraya had tried to raise her and live her, as difficult as it was. However, the past was not easily overcome, and that single night changed Marassa’s destiny forever. After years of hearing how the family wanted Zaveed back and Marassa gone, the only way she would earn their love and acceptance would be to find him and bring him home.
And so the very next day, three weeks after her seventh birthday, Marassa left home and ventured into the city of Senchal, an hour walk away. Since Senchal was a port city, perhaps Zaveed was there, Marassa figured. A child walking the streets of one of the most dangerous and crime ridden cities in all of Tamriel was asking for trouble, and sure enough, it found her before long. Confronted by two men, sailors from the Dominion on shore leave, Marassa was cornered in a back alley, with nothing but a stick to defend herself. It was a fearful situation she would never forget, but also, where her fortunes turned for the better; as one of the men grabbed her by the wrist, her suddenly cried out in pain as an unseen assailant bludgeoned him with a cane. Marassa was awestruck; an older gentleman, a Suthay-raht of middle age with greying fur brought down the two sailors with speed, grace, and precision that the young girl had never imagined possible. Having rescued the child, the man asked Marassa what she was thinking wandering the streets alone. His voice, weathered like an oak and unlike any she’d heard before, was kindly but authoritative. She answered dutifully that she was searching for her brother. Without breaking stride or hesitation, she immediately asked if he would teach her how to fight like he did.
With a smile, the gentleman said, “We’ll see.”
The man’s name was Ra’Rasargo, a modestly famous adventurer from years ago that had travelled Tamriel and writing a series of memoirs that became popular not only in the Khajiit kingdoms, but even finding their way within Bosmeri and even Imperial, Redguard, and Breton circles, since the Khajiit’s adventures took him to those exotic lands and he painted them all in a vivid, favorable light. In his retirement years, he decided to open a dojo to pass on his skills to those willing to pay the price of a man who had put Senchal on the map for something other than its unflattering reputation for crime and piracy. He had happened across Marassa when he was on the way back from the market, and he was intensely curious about how such a naïve and young girl was wandering Senchal’s streets alone.
Marassa explained her predicament at home, what her family was like and her plan to find her half-brother, to which Ra’Rasargo listened politely. He explained that he was not taking on any students, but he would offer a few lessons to help her be at least a little prepared for the world, but he’d have to take her back to her family since they’d be worried about her missing. Disheartened, but not in a position to argue, Marassa allowed herself to be escorted back home via carriage, where Ra’Rasargo witnessed firsthand exactly how unpleasant Marassa’s home was. Explaining to her parents exactly what had happened, they did not even wait for him to leave to begin chastising her. Intervening, Ra’Rasargo introduced himself formally, and with Marassa’s father, at least, the man was well known. Ra’Rasargo said that he was looking to take on a helper since his body wasn’t what it once was and that Marassa had proven to have been an exceptional help already. Agreeing to allow Marassa to help under Ra’Rasargo if for no other reason than to get her out of their lives for a good portion of each day, Marassa’s parents agreed, even arranging a carriage there and back to the plantation every day. And so, unbeknownst to Marassa’s family and the young girl, her apprenticeship had officially begun.
After a full year of cleaning the dojo, helping prepare meals and other housekeeping tasks, Marassa went to pick up the broom one day and found a long wooden practice sword in its place. Taking the practice weapon in hand, she sought out Ra’Rasargo out, asking if it were a gift. The mentor smiled, telling her that she’d have to earn it. Spending the day teaching her the basics of sword stances, Ra’Rasargo finished the day by telling her that she had earned her place, and his respect, by being responsible and a diligent worker for someone so young and he asked her if her goal was still to find her brother. Upon hearing her answer, the Suthay-raht enrolled Marassa as one of his students. And so began her training in earnest.
For the next ten years, Marassa developed from a young scrawny girl into a young woman who was disciplined, a quick study, and irrepressibly enthusiastic. While she was trained with a one-handed practice sword, her own lack of strength and bad habits that just couldn’t be drilled out of her made Marassa grow into a two-handed swordfighter, developing something of an unorthodox stance, but not something that was entirely unheard of. Even after her strength built, Marassa preferred the longer and heavier blades, finding confidence in the reach and power one could put into the weapon, and by her own sheepish admission, it made her look heroic. Likewise, while she was quick and agile, she did not have the instincts and reflexes to block blows reliably, and so heavier armour was introduced, which in turn built her strength and confidence considerably. By the end of her training, Marassa was an exceptional student and a proficient swordswoman.
At the age of nine, some measure of innate magical ability was noted in Marassa when herself and a pair of other students had found a beginner’s spell tome to try and cast Candlelight. While the other two gave up fairly easily, Marassa felt something of a connection and her own determination to succeed, especially after hearing Ra’Rasargo’s wife, Dra’Sasheira who was an accomplished mage and taught her own lessons to aspiring Khajiit mages in the same dojo, mention in one of her lessons that magical energy was present in all living things, but some people like the Altmer had the innate ability to tap into that energy like a runner taps into his stamina. Others, she reasoned, could learn to do such a thing through great concentration and practice. Marassa wanted to put that to the test. After two weeks of struggling with the tome, reading it cover to cover and treating its methods like her own swordsmanship and physical conditioning, the incredible happened; for a fleeting moment, a brilliant incandescent orb the size of an acorn emerged in her palm before becoming snuffed out. Elated and encouraged, even after several days between successes, and after two months of practice and guidance from Dra’Sasheira, Marassa was able to form a fully developed mage light spell. Marassa was well on her way to becoming a mage- of sorts. Augmenting her regular training with quick side lessons after training sessions, Marassa spent the next several years mastering a small handful of spells. While she still has a long way to go to even match the level of the average rung of magical intuitional proficiency one would expect from the College of Winterhold or the long defunct Mage’s Guild. That was never her end goal, regardless; it was simply another talent that could aid her in her eventual mission, a destination she never wavered from.
It wasn’t a secret that Marassa was Ra’Rasargo’s favoured pupil; the two had shared an immediate bond from the first day they met by chance, and a strong bond of mutual respect developed between the two, even going so far that in some ways, Ra’Rasargo was like a surrogate father for Marassa, while she became something like the daughter him and Dra’Sasheira never had. He shared his tales with her of his time as an adventurer, his treasure collection, correspondence with some famous individuals across Tamriel, and a number of other things that only she was privileged to. As she decided she was of age to begin her journey, Ra’Rasargo had a gift for her; using the Septims he had been saving from the leftover carriage fare her family had allotted over the years, Ra’Rasargo had managed to commission a Skyforge Steel greatsword through his contacts in Whiterun for Marassa, wanting to give her the best possible chance moving forward. Included in this parcel was a set of common steel armour of Nord craftsmanship, since Ra’Rasargo believed it to be the best quality one could buy on a modest budget. While the sword was something of a rarity and in some ways priceless due to its scarcity, it turns out calling in favours years after saving a life has perks.
Clad in new armour and with a deeply personal weapon in hand, Marassa bid her two mentors a tearful goodbye and promised to return when she found Zaveed, Marassa departed Senchal, heading North, years of planning about to be put to the test. Showing up at her home one last time in her new equipment, finally putting to rest the suspicion she was receiving training at the dojo, Marassa told her family not to expect to see her again. There was no love lost at this departure; she no longer cared for their approval or acceptance.
That was nearly ten years ago, and it almost ended within a month when Marassa had attempted to cross the Anequina desert unprepared, only surviving thanks to one of the nomadic tribes of the North. Nursed back to health and given more adequate traveling materials to survive a desert crossing as well as the wisdom of those who called the desert sands home, Marassa set out again and in earnest began her quest, learning quickly that the road was a merciless place for the unprepared and the inexperienced. Still, despite the countless hardships she faced, learning how to make snares to catch small game, scavenging food, where to find clean water, each lesson prefaced with near-death experiences quite often including starvation and near-dehydration on top of illness, animal attacks, and exposure to the elements, each settlement and building was salvation, and whatever books on local flora and fauna, important landmarks and sources of water became worth their price in gold. Often paying her way with labour and odd jobs, Marassa was within two years no longer the wild-eyed and excitable young girl she used to be; the woman who emerged was something remarkably harder and far less enthusiastic. Every day was a new and often painful lesson, and even figuring out how to survive and make shelters resulted in burns, entrapment, puncture wounds, and all sorts of other unpleasant calamities. Had it not been for the handful of healing spells Marassa had learned from Dra’Sasheira, she would have died long ago. Despite the attack from wildlife and creatures of the lands, it turned out the real heartless beasts were those of the two legged variety; other people.
Marassa was only 17 when she first had to take a life; a trio of bandits that saw her as an easy mark as she was traversing Cyrodiil, not far from the Argonian border. The experience rattled her; she had always known people were capable of such depravity, but to witness it first hand was something else entirely. This was a situation of life and death, there would be no walking away from it if things didn’t turn the way she hoped. Forcing herself to remain calm and remember the years of drills and stances she’d trained with for years, she was surprised to find herself not only able to fend off their blows but the openings in their own defences were glaring and easy to exploit. The difference between a trained warrior, albeit inexperience, and a group of opportunistic bandits who likely only ever targeted victims they thought would be a quick kill, or at least wealthy enough to take the risk. The sword alone would have been enough to make Marassa a prime target for irrefutable sorts, she discovered. Killing one of the attackers with a decapitating swing and amputating a hand of another, the surviving bandits made off, leaving Marassa with a corpse. Not quite prepared for the harsh reality of such ferocious bloodshed, Marassa was awash with a typhoon of conflicting feelings, but she was pleasantly surprised she didn’t shed a tear over the incident. The bastard had what was coming.
And he certainly wasn’t the last to try.
Each new day brought peril, and even bedding down for the night was something that necessitated light sleeping and a hand on her sword at all times. This state of hypervigilance quickly drove Marassa into the distrustful person she would eventually become; literally anyone could be a threat, and often, they were. Some, like the bandits, were overt. Others were manipulative and tried to take her when her guard was down after some token generosity. Her armour became damaged in time, and what coin she could pick off her failed assailants were often spent on maintaining her equipment when she arrived in settlements. What precious little remained often went to a bed for the night or some fresh food, but for the most part, Marassa was alone in the wilds and discovering the reality that just because you’ve planned on something your entire life doesn’t mean it was going to be simple. Determined not to turn back and return in shame, she pressed on, and like shedding pieces of excess clothing, the young idealistic and naïve girl that had resolved many years ago to save Zaveed was left behind mile by mile, eventually refining her into the hard young woman she is today.
Sticking mainly to the coasts (but avoiding Argonia as a whole due to how utterly traversable the swamps and jungles are, and the copious diseases that fester in those lands), Marassa’s journey has taken her through Eastern Cyrodiil, Morrowind, and more recently Skyrim, where she has been the last three years after exhausting leads in Morrowind. To Marassa’s surprise, she had rather enjoyed her four year stay in Morrowind as the climate and people were unlike any she had met before, and in the more rural regions that weren’t governed by regional politics nearly as intensely as the cities, proved to be much more hospitable to outsiders provided they were willing to volunteer their services in exchange for goods and a place to rest. Marassa exchanged physical labour, trapping, and dealing with bandits and highway men in exchange for staying in barns, stables, and sheds, meals, and information. Often checking coastal shipwrecks and becoming well acquainted to the use of water breathing and resist cold potions to carry on her search, signs of Zaveed had proven elusive. However, the time in Morrowind was well spent; Marassa had learned a handful of spells, had become somewhat immersed in Dunmeri culture and language, learned what plants and animals were safe to eat and how to prepare them, and in particular found a kinship with the Ashlanders who seemed to be somewhat of an outsider subculture in the Dunmer social strata.
However, after the Nerevarine re-emerged, change was in the air and with it a sense of foreboding. With the civil war in Skyrim having drawn to a conclusion, the Khajiit decided it was time to carry on her search in the frigid Northern promise, where she has been residing the past three years, dealing with encounters with Stormcloak hardliners, ferocious wildlife, Forsworn, and the usual assortment of ill-intentioned bastards that only respect the end of a blade. Although not integrating or finding as much success or enjoyment in Skyrim, partially because her trail has gone literally and figuratively cold, Marassa has tried to keep one step ahead of the Akaviri invasion, following information provided by displaced refugees, soldiers, couriers and even the Khajiit caravans, she knows that the noose is tightening and there isn’t going to be very many places to go to escape the Kamal creatures. And so, upon learning that many of Windhelm’s evacuees fled to Dawnstar, Marassa made her way to the diminutive harbour town and quickly learned of a mercenary company that had a ship. It wouldn’t be the first time she offered her services to get what she wanted, and it wouldn’t be the last, and safe passage to escape an incoming invasion force seemed to be a fair trade for becoming a sword for hire.
That is, until she picked up her trail once more.
Capabilities
Skills
Expert: 2H Blade
Adept: Heavy Armour, Alteration Magic
Apprentice: Restoration Magic, Ta'agra, Athletics, Provisioning
Novice: Dunmeris
Adept: Heavy Armour, Alteration Magic
Apprentice: Restoration Magic, Ta'agra, Athletics, Provisioning
Novice: Dunmeris
Weaknesses
Tactless: Marassa is prone to indifference at best, open callousness at worst to people she doesn’t care for, which is most. A combination of brutal honesty and a lack of empathy make her a difficult person to coexist with at times. She will say what she’s thinking, consequences be damned.
Aloof: Cold and distant, Marassa doesn’t take a keen interest in situations or people that don’t immediately involve her. A lack of passion for the severity of causes that don’t immediately relate to her own personal goals mean she is not one to volunteer or stick her neck out for others most of the time.
Distrustful: It takes a lot of work to have Marassa open up to strangers, and even more to trust their motivations. She keeps people at swords’ length and is neither surprised nor upset by betrayals; it’s simply what people do in her mind.
Non-military values and experience: Used to solitude and individual skill at arms, learning even rudimentary tactics and strategies is something that will be entirely new for her, and she will likely hate every minute of it. Not used to taking orders, giving them, or recognizing military maneuvers and strategies, she has no mind for logistics save for provisioning and all that matters to her is the moment she’s in.
Mild phobia towards Argonians: Growing up, Marassa heard the stories of how mysterious and deadly Argonia and its denizens were. This was a large reason for her avoiding the province altogether, and her time among the Dunmer reinforced the negative views of Argonians. She views Argonians as disease carriers that steal people away in the night and may or may not be mentally linked by the Hist. She keeps them at a distance.
Resentment towards Altmer: Altmer means Thalmor, and Thalmor means oppression. While she personally didn’t suffer at the hands of the Thalmor during Elsweyr’s time as a Dominion vassal state, Marassa heard enough stories and felt the resentment the public held towards the Thalmor in private. Being under the heel of another race, and an extremely militant and conquest minded one at that, has made Marassa more openly hostile towards Altmer on principle.
Resentment towards bosmer: Centuries of border clashes between Elsweyr and Valenwood have left their mark where even as former allies there was never any love lost between the Khajiit and the Bosmer. Seeing Bosmer as cannibalistic weirdos that rather butcher children than eat a corn cob have made them somewhat loathsome in her eyes.
Aloof: Cold and distant, Marassa doesn’t take a keen interest in situations or people that don’t immediately involve her. A lack of passion for the severity of causes that don’t immediately relate to her own personal goals mean she is not one to volunteer or stick her neck out for others most of the time.
Distrustful: It takes a lot of work to have Marassa open up to strangers, and even more to trust their motivations. She keeps people at swords’ length and is neither surprised nor upset by betrayals; it’s simply what people do in her mind.
Non-military values and experience: Used to solitude and individual skill at arms, learning even rudimentary tactics and strategies is something that will be entirely new for her, and she will likely hate every minute of it. Not used to taking orders, giving them, or recognizing military maneuvers and strategies, she has no mind for logistics save for provisioning and all that matters to her is the moment she’s in.
Mild phobia towards Argonians: Growing up, Marassa heard the stories of how mysterious and deadly Argonia and its denizens were. This was a large reason for her avoiding the province altogether, and her time among the Dunmer reinforced the negative views of Argonians. She views Argonians as disease carriers that steal people away in the night and may or may not be mentally linked by the Hist. She keeps them at a distance.
Resentment towards Altmer: Altmer means Thalmor, and Thalmor means oppression. While she personally didn’t suffer at the hands of the Thalmor during Elsweyr’s time as a Dominion vassal state, Marassa heard enough stories and felt the resentment the public held towards the Thalmor in private. Being under the heel of another race, and an extremely militant and conquest minded one at that, has made Marassa more openly hostile towards Altmer on principle.
Resentment towards bosmer: Centuries of border clashes between Elsweyr and Valenwood have left their mark where even as former allies there was never any love lost between the Khajiit and the Bosmer. Seeing Bosmer as cannibalistic weirdos that rather butcher children than eat a corn cob have made them somewhat loathsome in her eyes.
Spells
Spell list:
Adept: Waterbreathing, Ironflesh, Ash Shell, Detect Life, Candlelight, Magelight, Lighten Load (Feather)
Apprentice: Fast Healing, Healing Hands, Steadfast Ward, Ease Burden (Feather)
Adept: Waterbreathing, Ironflesh, Ash Shell, Detect Life, Candlelight, Magelight, Lighten Load (Feather)
Apprentice: Fast Healing, Healing Hands, Steadfast Ward, Ease Burden (Feather)
Tactics
An excellent fighter and something of an exceptionally trained brawler, Marassa is a fairly disciplined if unorthodox fighter who doesn’t believe in fair fights. Using even her alteration spells as weapons, the Khajiit seeks to create an opening by distracting or disabling an opponent and taking advantage with her massive greatsword, which offers an excellent reach unmatched by all but polearms. She is very aware of her surroundings and will use the terrain to her advantage, open putting things between her and her adversary to force them to work around it, taking the fight to somewhere with poor footing or ledges, and so on. She doesn’t shy away from brutality and dismemberment, and the psychological effects of that along with the Khajiits’ innate Eye of Fear give her a psychological edge on many opponents. She is capable of fighting multiple foes, and she is often able to close the gap between herself and mages with ward spells. For archers, she tries to keep terrain between herself and the archer, and will often seek to disengage to either escape or lure the archer into a situation of her choosing. Any hits that she is unable to parry are often absorbed by her armour, and simple healing spells can often limp her through a fight if need be.
Marassa can move with deceptive speed thanks to her Feather spells, which ultimately negate the weight of her weapon and armour, giving her reflexes and agility almost similar to someone wearing light armour. Using Ash Shell, she is capable of disabling limbs or weapons and creating an opening she can exploit, often fatally. Magelight is also used as a blinding weapon, often aimed for the face while she rushes in behind it. Marassa prefers to keep on the offense and not give her foes a change to get their footing.
Marassa can move with deceptive speed thanks to her Feather spells, which ultimately negate the weight of her weapon and armour, giving her reflexes and agility almost similar to someone wearing light armour. Using Ash Shell, she is capable of disabling limbs or weapons and creating an opening she can exploit, often fatally. Magelight is also used as a blinding weapon, often aimed for the face while she rushes in behind it. Marassa prefers to keep on the offense and not give her foes a change to get their footing.
Relations & Affiliations
S’Riraya (Khajiit, Cathay): Step-mother, estranged
Ra’Nair (Khajiit, Cathay): ep-father, estranged
Dar’Nara (Khajiit, unknown): Biological father, missing
J’Tagah (Khajiit, Alfiq): Half-Brother, estranged
Zaveed (Khajiit, Cathay): Half-Brother, missing
J’Zaddi (Khajiit, Ohmes): Half-Brother, estranged
Dra’Sasheira (Khajiit, Ohmes-Raht): Friend and mentor, magic studies
Ra’Rasargo (Khajiit, Cathay): Friend and mentor, swordsmaster; Surrogate father figure
Ra’Nair (Khajiit, Cathay): ep-father, estranged
Dar’Nara (Khajiit, unknown): Biological father, missing
J’Tagah (Khajiit, Alfiq): Half-Brother, estranged
Zaveed (Khajiit, Cathay): Half-Brother, missing
J’Zaddi (Khajiit, Ohmes): Half-Brother, estranged
Dra’Sasheira (Khajiit, Ohmes-Raht): Friend and mentor, magic studies
Ra’Rasargo (Khajiit, Cathay): Friend and mentor, swordsmaster; Surrogate father figure
Opinions
(For group members; fill after IC introduction)
Other
Marassa is a survivalist at her core. She thinks nothing of spending extended times in the wilderness surviving off the land and she has an excellent instinct for trapping. As such, she can dress and skin an animal about as casually as a housewife can knit a scarf. She also enjoys the perks of her race, including Eye of Fear, Night Eye, and a deadly set of claws. She is also something of an amateur cartographer and she can reliably draw up a map of places she’s recently been, she has an excellent sense of special awareness and a memory for detail.
Inventory
Cash
20 Septims
Keys & Lockpicks
A single key for her master’s dojo
Tools & Crafting Materials
Whetstone & oil, polishing cloth
Tinderbox
Snare wires
A jar of fire salts
Tinderbox
Snare wires
A jar of fire salts
Clothing & Armor
Standard Nordic armour (non-Skaal)
Leather jerkin
Miner clothing
Dunmer outfit
Red scarf
Travel cloak
Leather jerkin
Miner clothing
Dunmer outfit
Red scarf
Travel cloak
Weapon & Ammo
Skyforge Steel Greatsword
Orcish dagger
Orcish dagger
Potion & Arcane Supplies
2x potion of cure disease
3x stamina potions
2x magica potions
3x stamina potions
2x magica potions
Jewelry & Valuables
Other than her sword and what coin she carries, nothing.
Books & Documents
Immortal Blood
History of Raven Rock
The Wolf Queen
History of Raven Rock
The Wolf Queen
Food/Drinks/Ingredients
1x smoked hare
A bushel of snow berries
1x venison flank
2x water skin
1x wine skin
Bag of bait
A bushel of snow berries
1x venison flank
2x water skin
1x wine skin
Bag of bait
Load Bearing Equipment
Netch leather rucksack
Leather utility belt with 5 pouches of various sizes
Leather utility belt with 5 pouches of various sizes
Other
Bed roll
Tarp
4 thin ropes
Tarp
4 thin ropes
