Not all stories of rebellion are about brave freedom fighters somehow overcoming insurmountable odds to overthrow their tyrannous overlords. Many such stories are about pain, degradation, and despair. This is Jia Li's story.
Jia Li was born a slave to a powerful fire oni, Dal Mul. Even when she was a young girl, Dal Mul "favored" Jia Li. She would run. He would chase. She always struggled. Dal Mul savored her struggles just as he savored her screams as he burned and scarred her. He liked to call her his "littlest concubine."
Such torments do not go unnoticed. Even in dark times and horrific places there are those who fight against the evil of men and spirits. Huan Lu had been a slave like Jia Li when she was younger, but she had joined the Mizu Ki Hikari. Huan Lu had spent her entire adult life posing as a slave to rescue young women from their oni masters and to teach them to defend themselves. In Jia Li, she saw an opportunity. Here was a girl she could train; here was a girl who could kill her tormentor.
Jia Li has never forgotten the morning when she first felt a spark of hope for a better life. She had been lying on a cold stone floor weeping from her newest set of burns when an older slave woman came into the room and started rubbing a soothing ointment on her flesh.
"Girl, you fight, but you never win. Would you like to win?" the older slave woman whispered.
"Yes, but how? He is a great oni, and I am nothing but a slave," Jia Li replied.
"Even a slave can have power. You must learn the grace of the crane and the cunning of the serpent."
With these words Huan Lu began to teach Jia Li and to hone into a weapon to strike down Dal Mul. It was a brave plan, but perhaps not a wise one. As the years passed and Jia Li learned the secrets of the crane and serpent, Dal Mul noticed changes in his "littlest concubine." She was getting harder to catch. Not anywhere close to be able to evade his grasp, but harder.
One night the oni resolved to follow her. He caught her training with her mistress.
In flame and darkness, Dal Mul appeared. "Little Jia, you have been a very wicked girl, and you need to be punished," the oni purred.
With quickness that belied her years Huan Lu interposed herself between Dal Mul and her student. "Run, girl. Run and do not look behind you."
For a few moments Jia Li was frozen to the spot. This tableaux was a scene from her nightmares. Then Dal Mul struck. The first swipe of his sword appeared like it would cut Huan Li in half, but she knocked it to the side with one graceful movement, and kicked the oni in response. His next attack sliced empty air, and the old one woman jabbed him twice. The oni's wounds began to bleed. The old woman had more than just the grace of the crane and the cunning of the serpent but she also had the patience of the turtle and the ferocity of the boar.
The oni roared in rage. This was not the one sided fights that he preferred. His sword flicked out like a tongue of flame and caught Huan Lu with a glancing blow.
"Run, you foolish girl!" the old woman cried. In that moment, Jia Li's hope died. The oni's wounds would knit, while eventually the old woman would be whittled down bit by bit.
Jia Li ran.
By luck or fate she was not caught. She ran north, ever northwards. She finally understood that this was not a world for the brave. It was a world for tyrants and those who survived them. It took her two years to travel north over the crown of the world down into Avistan. The common tongue of this strange land comes to her lips with difficulty but it does come. Her feet came to rest in Sandpoint.
