Merkay, I have the backstory in mind already, but I haven't the time to type it out until I get home tonight, so it's empty for now. The character sheet is hyperlinked (just click the name) and links to the uploaded character sheet on Google Docs. I'll finish this up after work tonight!
Edit: Do we roll for height and weight, or can we fudge those as needed? I rolled for mine, but if we can change them, I'd like to do so.
Race: Catfolk (Non-furred)
Class: Monk (Zen Archer)
Birthday: July 21
Weight: 120 lbs
Skin: Light bronze with some signs of labor and marks
Hair: Messy, golden-brown hair, often covered by the turban she wears on her head
Str: 14 (+2)
Dex: 16 (+3)
Con: 12 (+1)
Int: 8 (-1)
Wis: 16 (+3)
Cha: 10 (+0)
Backstory: Born into an underprivileged family, Miyara struggled from an early age to survive in the world. Food was scarce, and their family only barely survived upon scraps and pieces, hardly something that could be called "enjoyable". Her parents slaved away each and every day to bring home what meager earnings they could make, which all went towards tiny bits of food and milk, the bare minimum. While she wasn't old enough to work on her own, she quickly learned to use her youth to her advantage, taking to the streets to beg for any tiny amount of coins passerby might feel generous enough to give her. She even began learning how to sing and dance to give her a better chance, and while it was nothing compared to an actual occupation, she pooled what tiny earnings she'd made with her parents' earnings, helping however she could. When she reached the age of fifteen, she was, at long last, able to get a job, something she sought out almost immediately, and she found one easily enough. While the pay was pathetic, she was still helping in her own way. Life was still so difficult, even with this new development, but she didn't complain, even when her stomach reprimanded her with its accusing growls.
One evening, upon arriving home from her tasks, she was greeted by the sound of jingling coins, the source of which was far too easy to see. A large sack of what she could only guess were coins sat upon the tiny wooden table, taunting her with its contents...Finally! Finally
they could live a real life, without eating scraps and trash...Finally, they wouldn't have to worry about starving or getting dehydrated! Finally, they could enjoy themselves, be somebody instead of clinging to dirt just to survive! She had no idea where the gold came from, but she was far too excited to care...But she should have cared. About half a year later, her father was found dead, a bloody axe found nearby. While she and her mother grieved in the dead of night, a set of demanding knocks rained down upon the door. Young Miyara opened the door, and was shoved aside as several fairly well-dressed individuals flooded their meager home, the gentleman in the lead immediately walking to her mother, who appeared to be mortified. Struggling to understand, she strained her eyes and ears to try interpreting something, anything that was being said... And then his gaze was upon her, the gaze of someone who's looking at an object of some kind. A wicked grin formed on that face of his, and with a snap of his fingers, she found herself overwhelmed, even as she dug into the floor with her claws, kicking, clawing, crying and screaming for her mother, but her mother would not react. She simply stared out the now-ajar door, as if she wasn't even "all there" anymore.
She awoke to the sounds of metal hitting something hard, clattering chains, and more than a little yelling. Startled, she found that she was wearing shackles and ankle bindings, with a pickaxe nearby. She struggled to grab it, but she persevered, eventually finding out that she was in a mining camp... That familiar man exited a far tent and headed straight for her, the catfolk girl instinctively backing up, something he only grinned wider at. He explained what was going on with sadistic delight, and Miyara was stunned. Her father had come to these people for money, and was scheduled to pay it back...But he never did, and when he failed to do so, he was murdered. Her mother was going to be next, but upon seeing the youngling, he struck a compromise. Instead, he called Miyara an "indentured servant", stating that she would work for him to pay off the debt, but in reality, she was little more than a labor slave, forced to help mine out a large cavernous area for hours on end. Being as young as she was, this didn't agree with her...A number of times, she would collapse and pass out from the work, only to be awoken by the harsh crack of a whip upon her skin upon her skin. When she turned seventeen, he even saw fit to brand her upon each shoulder and her left arm, marking her as nothing more than property... She continued despite the harsh treatment, wondering when she would be free...She eventually broke free from her ignorance and, by a stroke of good luck, managed to escape her ankle bindings. Seeing her opportunity, she traveled to the leader's tent, gazing upon his sleeping form with contempt. If she woke him up by attacking, surely she would be killed...No, instead she stole back some of her time from the cruel leader in the form of his shortbow, arrows, his outfit, and a pile of gold coins he kept upon his nightstand. She immediately fled, and along her winding path through the lands, she donned his clothes, covering her shoulders with the loose-fitting clothes acceptable for those living in the desert. Half-broken shackles remained upon her wrists, though weather had broken the chain in half. Several small scars upon her skin, along with the dual brands upon her shoulder blades, reminded the girl of her ordeals, as well as her utter hatred of captivity...While she had no immediately plans, she would find herself in a grassy area soon enough, looking quite out of shape with her strange clothes and turban.
Personality/Description: Despite her past, or possibly because of it, Miyara tends to act cheerful and carefree, although she undergoes a very noticeable change in the company of anyone or anything that she perceives as a slaver or slave-owner. In those situations, she often locks up, refuses to speak to them or even speak around
them, and becomes fairly sharp-tongued. She often loses herself to a state of temporary Zen when she's firing off arrows, though she's quick to panic when she's cornered. She hides the brands on her shoulders and arm as well as she can, and doesn't enjoy wearing any kind of revealing clothing, instead choosing to don the turban stolen from her former master's belongings. She is quite shy around the topic of sex, as she never truly experienced it, having grown up poor and having been captured upon finally enjoying life, and she's also prone to locking up in a furious blush if the subject comes up.
Kinks: I'm fine with pretty much anything. NC, Exotic, Bondage, Futa, etc. Pretty much anything is fair game for me.
Exceptions: No scat/bathroom-related things, no guro, no hard vore, and no super-violent injuries in the bedroom. I'm okay with rough play and scratches/cuts from certain things, but not things like cutting someone. Please, no.