Karina Zayatevya's page

AGED SIX

“Get up!” Karina lies where she is, sprawled at the bottom fo the stairs, and looks back up at her older half-siblings. She doesn’t have to guess which one of them tripped her up. The oldest, Garth, jeers at her while his two younger sisters Maisie and Tilda, don’t say anythign. They just glare. Garth repeats himself, angrilly. “I said get up! You’ve no RIGHT to wear a dress like that. It should be Tilda’s. We’re noble. You shouldn’t be allwed to wear noble clothes.” Karina slowly stands up and dusts herself down. The smart play here is to take it on the chin and walk away. But Garth pushes her buttons. “Our mother was noble. Your mother’s just a common little peasant.”

Karina clenches her fist, but it’s her words that she uses to cut them. “You’re right, your mummy was noble, an arranged marriage and everything. But he chose my mother. Guess that means he lvoes her – and me – more than he ever loved-” she doesn’t get to finish the sentence as Garth charges down the stairs and pummels her. His sisters quickly follow.

It’s two days before she can open her left eye fully. But by the gods it was worth it to see the looks on their faces.

AGED SIXTEEN

“Get up.” Karina stays where she is, sprawled in the dirt, and glares up at the half-orc who has methodically beaten her to a pulp before disarming her. Her own sword lies ten feet from her but her focus right now is on trying to breathe without it hurting too much. The half-orc glares back at her. “Aww, are we too sore to keep going? Is it all too much for the little girl whose family didn’t love her? Do you want to trade stories about how my family treated me?” Through the gasps, Karina shakes her head. Zay doesn’t talk about his past, but the scars on his body tell their own tale. She slowly gets to her feet, wincing as she probes her bruises, and picks up her wooden trainign sword once again. Zay grins. “That’s the spirit. Only next time don’t keep me waiting. The bad guys won’t wait, because…?”

“The bad guys don’t fight fair.” Karina finishes the saying, mimicking his toen of voice. “You enjoy these training bouts waaaay too much, Zay. How does a competle bastard like you even get to be a paladin, anyhow?” The half-orc’s smile broadens. “Ah! Very good! Let us put the swords away and talk comparative theology.” Karina groans. Kill me now. “You know what? I’m good for another round.” Zay looks dubious. “Alright, but I won’t go easy on y-” His words are cut off when Karina flings her wooden training sword at his head, before folowing it up with a sharp kick in his balls.

She has to fight the rest of the bout bare-handed, and Zay hits her so hard the bruises don’t heal for a fortnight. But by the gods it was worth it to see the look on his face.

SIX MOTNTHS AGO

“Get up.” Karina stays kneeling for a moment or two, until the sword blade is lifted completely away from her shoulders. Zay grimaces at her. “It’s ok. If I was going to behead you, I’d have done it years back. Gods know I may live to regret this, but Karina Orlovsky, I welcome you into the order of paladins.” There’s a small cheer from the assembled few, and then the drinking and feasting start.

At the end of the evening, Zay comes and finds her again. She’s never one for the crowds, and even at a party in her own honour Karina is standing alone outside, looking up at the stars. He refills her drink. “Copper pice for your thoughts?” She sighs, and hands him the letter she received a few days ago. “My family's cauht up with me, I'm bieng summoned home. Seems like dear old dad has died and my half-brother is now head of the family." Her knuckles whiten as she almost tears the paper in half.

Zay sighs. "Family is - complicated. But thier blood is in your veins too. And from what you tell me, Brevoy would benefit from some light in its darkness. I think you sholud go, see what your brother wants."

Karina scowsls. "Fine. But I'm not going back as Orlovsky. I need a different family name.” She takes a deep breath. “What do you think of… of Zayatevya? Among my people, it means-” she doesn’t get to finish as the half-orc’s hug drives the air out of her lungs. “I know what it means, you dummy.”

She’s not really given to sentimentality. But by the gods it was worth it to see the look on his face.

SIX DAYS AGO

"Get ouit." Age hasn't improved her half-brother in any way, she notes, and his chubby face looks almost funny when it's red with anger.

She stands ehr ground. "That's my name now and I don't need your approval, what did Father ever do for me anyway?" She is sileknced by Garth's hand slamming on the desk.

"Enough. I am head of this family and regardles of your name you still owe fealty. Or will you break that law?" He glares at her.

Karina grits her teeth, but there are vows she made and he is in the right, damn him. "Fine. How can I serve, brother dearest?"

Garth looks sick to his stomach as she calls him that, and she feels slightly better. It's petty but she will taek her victroies where she can. "House Lebeda are up to something around the old fort. Greatwall. I want to know what it is and how we can profit from it."

She gives an insultingly short bow. "Of course, brother dearest." She leaves befroe he can say anything else to annoy her.

Greatwall. She's never heard of it but she has her orders.

BACKGROUND

Karina was born Karina Orlovsky, daughter of Petrov Orlovsky, a minor baron of that family. Petrov disgraced himself in the eyes of those around him after his first wife Anna (a wealthy and well-connected woman) died, and he took up with Karina’s mother Tess, a woman of almost no social standing. It was a doomed affair: the family swiftly intervened to annul the marriage, and Tess disappeared without a trace when Karina was five. When she was eight, her lack of resemblance to her half-siblings was too obvious to pass off: where they had their father’s Taldan complexion and dark hair, she had the unmistakable red hair and pale skin of her Ulfen mother. She was packed off to a boarding house but – resentful and rebellious – she ran away.

The gods alone know what dire fate might have happened to her if she hadn’t run into Zay, who cautght her when she tried to pick his pocket. She expected a beating, but the half-orc instead offered her food. With oen hand firmly on her dagger in case of a trap, she sat opposite him and ate while he asked her qeustions. Afterward, not having anything better to do, she followed him. She’s not sure why. He didn’t encourage her, but he did start training her. His methods were tough, but so is she. She stuck around. All told, he’s been a far better father to her than her father ever was. She has no regrets about taking his name.

The first thing most people notice about Karina is the long, red hair that frames her pale features. The next thing most people notice is the travel-worn cloak, which gives her the appearance of a lone traveller, fallen on hard times. (A few more observant types would notice the silver holy symbol tied to her belt.) To a bandit, she looks like easy pickings, which is a mistake they only get to make once. Beneath the cloak, Karina has the build of someone who has spent most of the last decade (give or take) trainign for the fight. She carries an assorted range of weaponry, including her pride and joy, a longbow with heartwood from Brevoy’s Grozni forest. She calls the weapon Whisper and it is the last, silent word in most of her fights (Karina view of a fair fight is one where she wins and the bad guys don’t).

Having survived to reach her early twenties, Karina is hard-bitten (and won’t hesitate to bite, if it comes to that), the sort of paladin who keeps a set of brass knuckles in some easy to reach pocket of her clothing. Chivalry and fair play don’t get you as far as they used to. She has gotten pretty cynical about most things, given that the harshness of her upbringing was followed by a life in service to a tough paladin. She has seen a lot of the very worst that people can do. But it would be a mistake to regard her as no more than a sell-sword, or as a ‘fallen paladin’ – her faith still shines brightly, in its own way. She has absolute faith in the ultimate power of goodness to vanquish evil, although she has no illusions about the costs involved in the struggle. The flippancy and sardonic humour she has adopted serve as a protective mechanism, keeping people at a safe distance.

Karina rememmbers enough of her upbringing to enjoy good food when she can get it. She is equally fond of drinking, especially liquor: Dwarven whiskies, Andoren brandies, Galtan cognac, and Brevan vodkas are all appreciated and at any time her hip flask will have some sort of spiritual content within it. She is rarely drunk, because she needs to keep her wits about her, but a couple of sips to help her sleep, a couple when she wakes up, maybe a little wetting of the lips at other times. A girl needs something to keep the darkness at bay, after all. She has faced various assorted horrors and doesn’t fear much that’s living or dead or in-between, but that doesn’t stop her from having nightmares.