Sria Na'aari the Dai Sensei of the Miyama Ryu, Elite Imperial Shadow

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Chapter 4

Sria stood outside in the hallway of the black sect,
leaning against the wall. She felt that she had really
made a home for herself, but someone was threatening
that home right now. She had risen quickly in the ranks
and became one of the Elites without much effort. She
took much pride in that, perhaps even too much.

The black sect and its Dread Lord had become a thorn
in her side. They did not appeal to her, and the going-ons
inside their sect hall eluded her. The more she thought
about it, the more she came to dislike it. Citizens or
not, she didn't trust them. Not that any other sect was
to be fully trusted. What's for sure is that Qaz will
be made anathema, come hell or high water. If after that
the blacks manage to regain some degree of respect is up
to them. Sria didn't care for anything but cleaning house
at this point.

She wanted a seat on the council, badly. More influence
and power was required to bring about change, and to do
some proper cleaning in the ranks perhaps. Sria had seen
one too many weak-willed cowards prancing around the
Imperial Lands, almost as if they mattered.

With age she's starting to become jaded and bitter, and
doubting the possibility of change. A forceful hand holding
a lenghty whip fels more appropriate, and that method seems
to hold more promise than anything else at this point.

Role

Chapter 3

Finally being able to complete the task Enlilth gave
her, Sria was now overflowing with ego and confidence.
Brimming with narcissism, even. She feels as though
being on top of the world. Though being a lowly Oath,
Sria is now certain that she has full control over her
fate, and it holds great power and control.

As envigorated by recent events that she is, there's
still nothing in her that would come close to resemble
warm feelings. She feels nothing but a craving for more.
The people she has met have been easily swayed into her
web of deciet. To her they are simpleminded fools, too
easily swayed by warm words, unable to discern how
hollow they really are.

Sria doesn't feel bothered by the thought of standing
alone at the end, if everyone else crawls through
the dusty beneath her.

Role

Chapter 2

Her escape had been miraculous and she didn't fully understand what had happened. The years of abuse had taken
a toll on her but for a split second she acted on some instinct she didn't know was still in her. A surprise
Imperial inspection of the Inn where she was secretly kept, had turned her life around. In a hurry to greet the
Imperial tax collector her owner had not properly locked her door. Her body was aching and burning from he time
in captivity, but even though she almost blacked out from just standing up from the floor, she forced herself on
her feet. She snuck through the hallway, and while the men were debating the tax, she bolted for the door and out
into the rain. Old wounds tore and she bled. Her lungs burned like fire, but she ran.

Sria spent the following months hiding away on the outskirts of Balator. A new-found strength and determination
had sparked in her. She felt that by the trials she had been put through, nothing could come in her way anymore.
Most importantly no man would ever hold sway over her fate again. She, too, could play the game of power and
manipulation. In no small way did she realize that the Empire with its already established chain of command was
the best, perhaps only, place to start.

Role

Chapter 1

Sria had no recollection of her past or how she had ended up with her owner. For all she knew, she was an orphan.
Her life was governed by a strong hand and a tight leash. Where she went and what she did was not for her to
decide, and so she was used for many menial tasks, most often cleaning and field labor. When Sria started to come
into adolescence it didn't go unnoticed by her master.

Between labour and disciplinary beatings, Sria had only the nights for herself. Her spirit had been broken long
ago and she didn't cry anymore over her fate. She felt hollow and alone, consumed by apathy. It was during a
night like this that she heard someone with a heavy foot walking down the hallway outside her room. The door
unlocked and a nose wrenching stench wafted over her.

Standing in the door, the man looked upon her, while distractedly picking his nose. After a minute he said
- "I'm yer new master and yer comin' with me!".
In two big strides he came up to her little cot, clasped some chains on her paws and bagged her head.
- "We don't want ye runnin' away on me, do we?"
She didn't fight, in fact she had no strength to do so anymore. She was thrown onto a carriage and taken into
service for someone else, somewhere else...

She was starting to become delirious and she could see black edges closing in on her peripheral vision. A hulking
mass of sweat and fat pounded away ontop of her, on and on for hours on end. She bled and fainted, abused like
nothing her nightmares could ever conjure up. This was her new service.

Rich merchants with special desires paid handsomely to her new owner, a wretched man of low statuer that dabbled
in all sorts of criminal business. But they weren't all men, even women would pay to pleasure themselves. Sria
had tried to fend for herself when she realized what she was forced into. Her claws ripped and her teeth sunk into
the fat repulsive arm of her first abuser. She felt abit more alive by the taste and feel of warm blood, but it
was shortlived. Cut claws and a muzzle proved to be the last thing to pacify her completely when she was abused.

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