<div class="floatright">(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v433/Vadimirin/CharImgs/Monstrous/1342192662505.jpg)<br/></div><strong>Name:</strong>M’iaq<br/><strong>Class</strong>: Rogue (Scout)/ (Flowing) Monk<br/><strong>Races</strong>: Catfolk<br/><strong>Character Age:</strong>23<br/><strong>Alignment</strong>: Lawful Good<br/><br/>Character Sheet (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=510793)<br/><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Background</div><div class="spoiler_body">In his youth, M’iaq’s reputation was less than sterling having fallen into a bad crowd of pickpockets and thieves, but back then he went by his birth name J'Dhannar.  It didn’t help that he came from a poor upbringing with dreams of living a life of luxury surrounded by valuable baubles that he would never be able to attain through legitimate means.  Being a creature of envy that possessed the natural grace needed to attain the items of his desire, J'Dhannar took destiny in his own hands to pull himself out of the slums he was born into.  He would never forget his first ‘score’; a silver statuette of a partially naked woman with butterfly wings that glistened beautifully in the sunlight of the crowded marketplace.  In that moment, the young J'Dhannar knew he had to have it and his first attempt at theft was anything but graceful.  It was a simple snatch and run theft that instantly raised an alarm.  While the robbery itself worked against his chances of escape, his nimble stride made up for it in his ability to weave through the crowd more easily than his pursuers.  He was caught despite his best efforts, but not by those he had expected as, in the midst of his escape, an arm reached out of the crowd, snared him around the neck, and pulled him into a tightly packed group of people that shielded him from detection of the authorities.  Instead of being turned in or mugged for the very possession he had stolen, the man and his small entourage turned out to be members of a local crime syndicate who instead offered to train J'Dhannar and ultimately grant him membership into their organization.  It was an opportunity that, in the catfolk’s naivety, he couldn’t refuse.<br/><br/>A few years passed and he was firmly seated as a member of The Sabortooth Syndicate specializing in pickpocketing, burgling, and small-time heists.  During this time, J'Dhannar only found himself contented rather than satisfied as it seemed much of his earnings went towards the gang rather than his own pocket.  It was enough to live comfortably on, but he knew he would never attain the life of indulgence he so dreamed by doing these little jobs.  There was much talk between several close friends and himself of ‘the big score’.  Rumors of lost treasures in Sarkoris were abundant, perhaps originated from the refugees complaining of their lavish livelihoods lost to the demonic hordes.  They knew that even a small fraction of that lost wealth would be enough for them to retire in luxury.  Eventually the day came where the five of them found the ambition – or perhaps it was more ignorance – to chase their dream; they were masters of stealth and subtly, sneaking into and out of enemy lines would be little different from the several non-detection heists they pulled off effortlessly.  After a few months of planning in secret, they were ready to venture on their expedition to sneak into one of the abandoned settlements closest to the frontlines, raid a house that once belonged to a noble family, and return beyond the wardstones undetected.<br/><br/>It went as well as one would expect who wasn’t looking at it through the lens of invincibility that comes with youth.  To their merit, they had made it behind enemy lines undetected and with minimal difficulty, which may have led to them becoming more careless.  They had even made it to the settlement where their wealth resided, but by that point they were being hunted by a group of swaithe demons who were using the local fauna as scouts.  J'Dhannar and his group made it to their destination, only marginally disappointed by what valuables remained, but it there was still enough of value to make the expedition worthwhile; especially if they pillaged a few nearby houses as well.  The ambush happened while they were loading their bags with loot.  Swaithe attacked them from all directions, using the confined spaces to their advantage, and in the few moments J'Dhannar and his friends thought they could fight off the puny looking goblin-like creatures, it quickly became apparent that they were more formidable than they looked.  The call went out to scatter and abandon their heist, so J'Dhannar did what he was trained to do; get out as fast as possible, find a place to lay low, and reconvene in a safe location.<br/><br/>Every route out of the house seemed to have been blocked off; every doorway seemed to have one of those demons ready to pounce anything that stepped through while others seemed to strategically corner their victims.  Injured from a number of slashing claws and finding himself trapped in one of the bedrooms with enemies quickly closing in, J'Dhannar took the only exit that remained to him – he leapt out of the third-story window onto the empty street below.  Fortunately, he took the fall well and managed to dissipate much of the energy in a roll that still left him feeling battered, but he was well enough to duck into a nearby building and take several routes that were intended to shake any would-be pursuers.  After a few hours of waiting for the heat to die down, he started taking measures to track down his comrades, but none of his disguised call signs received a response and the sun was lowering in the sky.<br/><br/>As much as he wanted to wait for his friends, to find them or what became of them, J'Dhannar was too terrified.  It was his first encounter with the monsters that lurked beyond civilization.  They were no longer the fabled boogieman lurking under the bed; they had become the predator that stalks in the shadows, ready to devour its prey.  Suddenly his satchel partially filled with items of gold, silver, and minor gemstones no longer provided the sort of wealth he now desired.  More than anything else, he wanted to live and it didn’t matter what sort of lifestyle he would have.  Feeling trapped, alone, and in mortal peril, J'Dhannar tossed aside his pack of scavenged loot and began praying to any and all the deities for help in his time of dire need.<br/><br/>J'Dhannar had not realized how tired he was from the ordeal until he found himself waking to the malevolent cackles coming from a trio of swaithe.  They closed in on him with sadistic glee while he rose to his feet and prepared to fight to his last knowing full well that only death awaited him.  Regardless, these were the creatures that killed his friends and he wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction of hearing him beg for his life.  The foremost demon leapt at him, but it was met in midair with a salvo of arrows that streaked in through an empty window frame causing it to land short in a crumpled heap with an arrow embedded between its empty eye sockets and one where its heart likely resided.  The remaining swaithe let out a cry of surprised distress, fleeing now that they no longer had the advantage leaving J'Dhannar to peer out the window.  The woman who stood on an adjacent rooftop was just as beautiful as the statuette he had stolen in his youth and he beheld her in much the same way; she was a means to attain what he now desired – a chance to survive this nightmare.<br/><br/>Though he could not figure how she did it so adeptly, the woman managed to lead him out of the settlement with the sort of skill that made his infiltration of the place seem as overt as a marching band.  J'Dhannar tried on a few occasions to ask her how she found him, why she was here, or even to thank her for saving his life as they made their way towards Kenabres, but every attempt to speak was met with the gesture to remain silent.  Even in the cover of the night sky, J'Dhannar was able to see her in the dim lighting and could only marvel at his savior committing every detail to memory.  There was something about her that surprised him, namely the sort of sadness in her features and the way she clung to the symbol of Desna around her neck as though her life depended on it; it felt like a mirror to his own feelings in the loss of his friends and how desperately he had called to the divines for aid.  It would seem Desna had been the one to answer his plea by sending this woman to rescue him.  There was much he wanted to ask and say to her, but understood he needed to wait until they were safe.<br/><br/>The sky was starting to fill with the light that would herald the sunrise when they saw the torches of Kenabres burning in the distance.  It was there that she gave the signal to wait while she scouted ahead as she had done several times during their trip, only it had been a contingent of heavy cavalry that returned.  After a series of very skeptical inquiries, they pulled J'Dhannar upon one of their mounts with the obvious statement that it was not safe to be here before escorting him to Kenabres.  Along the way J'Dhannar told them that there was a woman travelling with him and a fraction of the patrol was sent to find her.  It was only when he was safely within Kenabres that he learned the outriders hadn’t been able to find the woman.<br/><br/>Instead of returning home where the temptations of his former life could put him back on the path that Desna had save him from, J'Dhannar chose to follow a path that would temper him from the vices that nearly cost him his life.  He sought out a monastery of Sarenrae to atone for his past and to overcome his desires of envy and greed by serving as a monk of their order under the name of M’iaq.  As far as he was concerned, J’Dhannar had died with the others in those ruins and felt it best to let it be believed as such by everybody else.  Even though he is thankful to Sarenrae for guiding him to redemption, he still pays homage to Desna for being there for him in his time of need so that he could start his path to redemption.</div></div><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Personality</div><div class="spoiler_body">M’iaq has become somewhat socially reserved after his encounter in the Worldwound, the ordeal clearly having left an scar on his self-confidence that may never heal.  In situations where leadership and initiative of decision making is needed, it is very difficult for him to overcome the hesitation that comes from self-doubt.  This does not make him any less pleasant to talk to or spend time with; in fact there is nothing he enjoys more than the merriment and a good laugh among friends.  Another effect his time in the Worldwound had on him is making him fiercely loyal to his companions.  Haunted with the unshakable notion that he had abandoned his friends in the past and left them for dead has given him a hardened resolve to do whatever it takes to save those he cares about.<br/><br/>Though he is now walking the path of redemption for his illicit past, M’iaq still battles with temptation to take morally questionable shortcuts for addressing situations.  Years had passed since the divine intervention of his redemption, causing the pain of the lesson to dull enough for the rejection of such temptations to become more conscious decision rather than primarily reflexive.  His training at the monastery has given him the discipline needed to overcome those desires, but there is still a part of him that worries about relapsing and discussions involving such questionable actions tend to clearly make him uncomfortable on a personal level.</div></div><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Appearance</div><div class="spoiler_body">: M’iaq is covered from head to toe in medium-plush fur that is light orange on his back that transitions to beige on his front and muzzle.  His eyes are rich amber in color with the vertically slit pupils felines are known form.  A long, relatively thin tail sways behind him as he walks and is usually a good indicator of the sort of mood he is in when also considering the position of the triangular ears upon his head.  The musculature of his legs, arms, and chest manage to be clearly pronounced despite the layer of fur upon them, but those are more of a result of acrobatic and agile endeavors rather than raw physical might.</div></div>