<span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 14pt;"><strong>Qan Nightingale (https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/3/3c/Qan_Nightingale.pdf)</strong></span><br/>CG, Half-Elf, Level 1 Brawler<br/><hr/><div class="floatright">(https://i.imgur.com/JCYMkZf.png)</div>Qan remembers little beyond the past few years... something of a home where wheat was grown in golden fields, something of sunsets on a quiet horizon of unmoving land.  She does not remember another name, nor a time when she was more than a slave.<br/><br/>In the ports of The Shackles she has served for three years, entertaining with song when commanded, her fists when demanded, and her body when there was no quarter given.  The only solace she has known are the quiet days in port cities when the drugs and the drink were forced too heavily, and her slumber was full of golden sunsets, or when she could sit quietly and listen to the tales of travelers or traders from ports and lands of which she could only dream.  Sometimes, when she sang well, she would earn a quiet night and decent food.  Sometimes, after a good fight, there was time to heal a broken hand or a swollen jaw before she was sent to work dock rigging, load crates, shell lotus seeds... but always, her songs and her history has been quiet, mournful, and alone... her throat dry and weak, her mind stupified from punches and grog.<br/><br/>But her master must have made a grave error, somehow, for she is no longer in the Shackles... at least, not on dry land.  She is adrift, amid new faces different from the pecking order she has come to depend upon.  What fresh hell is this?... or is this the moment, perhaps, when the chains have been re-fit, that she can slip free at last, and when the bit is re-set into her mouth that, some day soon, she can find her voice again?<br/><br/>*<br/><br/>Qan-- or Mockingbird-- is a half-elf, level 1 brawler who, incidentally, has a knack for singing and learning songs.  She has general amnesia when it comes to most of her life, but the past few years she has endured a harrowing life as human chattel, forced to fight, perform, and prostitute herself for a criminal 'master'.  If she can garner her freedom, or any measure thereof, she may find her voice to be the conduit for her anger and pain, and become a natural Skald-- able to channel that fury into her allies and drive them to frenzied heights of battle-rage as they face their enemies.