This character was created for the Massively Multiplayer Online Role-Playing Game Age of Conan. It was written in April 2008.
Name: Destasia
Age: 26
Class: Priest of Mitra
Gender: Female
Occupation: Upkeep /Combat (Support)
Height / Weight: 5'5''/114 lb.
God of Worship: Mitra
Marital Status: Single
Slave, Master or Neither: Slave (Purchased)
Character Background:
Born into slavery, Destasia has never known freedom or choice, neither parents nor love and after fourteen years of this life she chose to end the pain and misery. It is important to note, she never had been a very good slave. Although quite meek, she was clumsy, shy, weak, lazy and had a hard time doing things right. Her master seemed only to keep her around so he could beat her up for each of her mistakes. On that day he brought her on his travels, perhaps to assuage his boredom. As fate would have it, bandits set upon their caravan. Destasia fled in blind panic during the ensuing chaos.
When she inevitably found her way back, it was all over. She found her master wounded and unconscious at the base of a carriage. Picking up a knife left in the mess, she looked upon it with quiet fascination. Then, gripping the hilt with both of her trembling hands, she pressed it on her master's neck. For a tense moment, that seemed to last forever in her mind, she held the dagger tightly, but in the end she could not bring herself to kill. She retracted the dagger from his throat and placed its edge on her left wrist; if she could not end her misery by his death, it would end with hers. Five lacerations latter she was crying in pain and frustration as blood flowed from her arm, yet as she had missed the major arteries, her death was coming very slowly. Each heartbeat carried a flurry of emotions ranging from fear to hope and, with her vision progressively dimming, she thought she would finally find peace.
She awoke with her mind in haze, what she thought at first to be a vivid dream turned out to be reality as she gazed upon the ruined caravan. Yet it was all out of place, her master was pacing about and when she felt her wrist it had no marks on it. Seeing her confusion he spared her a sidelong glance and muttered a few words.
“Some man took care of our wounds, don't know why he even bothered with you.” The last word was spoken as if a curse but Destasia, her mind racing with possibilities, hardly noticed. The fact someone took care of her shattered her world. Indeed, who would even bother? She was worthless, wasn't she? Had the man made a mistake? Who-
“I said, come on we have to get moving, NOW!” The words snapped her back to reality. He looked angry. He hated repeating himself. She had enough. Defiance overtook her.
“No.”
He stared back at her incredulous.
“No? What do you mean, no?”
She mustered all the courage she had, but her voice still held a hint of uncertainty.
“Tell me who was the man and I will follow you...”
“WHAT?” He roared and moved in closer to hit her. Instinctively she shied away, but the blow never came. After a tense moment she opened her eyes and spied his figure slowly retreating from her, he seemed agitated. The awkward silence was soon broken, leaving her little time to think.
“Just come along, will you?”
Without a word she rose and and followed, her newfound defiance already spent. During their long trek, now on foot, back to her master's own town she had much time to mull over what had happened. Her young mind could not fathom why she had been spared, her limited experience had led her to believe she was less than human and that all men were cruel. She began pondering about the possibilities. What if something far greater than men had took pity on her? Her mind drifted to the religion she had heard about. By the end of the day she had concluded that one of these powerful entities had saved her, but why?
The next day, her master sold her off; since the incident the day before he could not look upon her without some measure of agitation. Further proof, in her mind, about the nature of her savior. Her master had never been so rattled before. Under her new owner life got better. The beatings came less often and the food was more abundant, at least according to her limited understanding of abundance. Days drifted into weeks and weeks into months as she got used to a new menial routine. Yet, she still felt empty, unfulfilled. She began thinking she was somehow special, that she had a role to play. How else could she explain being saved. She became obsessed with this line of thought, giving her a new purpose in life.
For the first time ever, she struggled to do her tasks properly and to overcome her laziness. At the same time, she took advantage of the lack of scrutiny of her owner, and often snuck out at night. More than once Destasia got in trouble, but for the second time in her life, she did not shy away. Accepting in stride whatever punishments she received, each passing day her determination grew. Slowly she learned about the rudiment about different gods, but only Mitra evoked an emotional response. She felt a connection to this god and, to her at least, it was a genuine sign. With each passing day she sought bits and pieces of information about Mitra, slowly building her own skewed image of him.
It was not long before she gave herself fully to Him. Her newfound faith in someone far greater than her, someone who would protect her and who would guide, filled the gaping hole in her heart. She felt reborn, for her this was a sudden change. In her own delusions she had not realized she had instigated this transformation by herself. In her naive mind it was all the work of Mitra. Of course, sheer determination cannot overcome all flaws, but with the void in her heart fulfilled at last, she found herself much more capable. Still clumsy and shy, she had nonetheless replaced her weakness of spirit and laziness with a fierce determination.
As the years slowly turned into a decade, Destasia still felt something was missing. She could not explain it, what else could she need? Surely not freedom, this way her life was ordered, simple and relatively safe. Sure, she was punished sometimes, but she had seen free men and women also get punished. In the end, everyone had a master or mistress, some simply didn't know it. For all her faith in
Mitra, she realized she had been selfish. Thinking back on the little she had learned about Mitra, she concluded she was not living to His ideals. According to what she knew, Mitra expected his followers to strive for justice and truthfulness; honor and strong sense of right and wrong. A hint of desperation came forth, had she failed again? No. She still had a chance to make it right. Being a slave, she could only do so much, but that would not stop her from trying. From here on she would devote herself, body and soul, to Mitra.
