Harrow

Half-Elf / Fighter

Submitted character story

Your choices paint a character worth knowing, Harrow. The table is better for having you at it.

Defining moment: The Warlord's Daughter, Spring in Aoskar, A Pavilion in the Desert – Do you know that feeling, when you are nine years old, when you wake up in the dark, suddenly awake because there is someone in your room? You hold your breath so you can listen harder, and you can't hear anything. You stare at the invisible screen between your room and your father's, to catch any movement. You can't see anything. You can't hear anything. And, maybe, there is no one there.

But you know there is.

If they are there, they move more quietly than your own breathing. If they are there, they must know how the pavilion is divided, so they can move inside without being seen. If they are there, they must be outside your chamber, behind the hangings. And you tell yourself they aren't there. That there is nothing to be afraid of. And you somehow find the courage to silently slip out of bed and in infinitesimal steps find yourself parting the hanging. 

Of course, no one is there. It is empty space, bereft of any presence. Dark and chill. 
You know that feeling, when all the hairs on your body stand up at once and your throat closes up? Because you see the empty space move and there's a man, a soldier in front of you, with a huge jagged blade looming over you. And you start to lose consciousness because they look you straight in the eye and touch their finger to their lips? And you will always remember this moment exactly as it happened.

And you know that feeling, when you run into your father's chamber and you see a huge jagged knife sticking out of his chest? That the knife is a declaration of death, the end of that age. That, as of now, there is nowhere safe for you and the hyenas who will throw your father's body onto the fire will be hunting you to "keep you safe" from the harm you will undoubtedly suffer.

When you dress in silent, blind panic and rifle through your father's purse, stuffing your feet into boots while trying to control your fright? When you stumble over the loyal guard and with trembling hands loot his purse as well. And numbly walk towards the latrines while guessing which sentry post had been compromised, leaving your life behind?

Well? Do you?

Inducted into a death cult as a child, Harrow has become what she despises. The world must burn.