Age: 31 in average years; Pandaren have an elongated lifespan, but not elf-long!
Weight: Around two hundred pounds. They're stout!
Class: Monk
Specialization: Mistweaver | A healer proficient in martial arts and healing magic.
Profession(s): Leatherworker!
Affiliation: Alliance
((Fun note. She's only listed as a herm thanks to being able to shift between genders; now, don't take this as a puff-of-smoke transformation. You will either get a hermaphroditic, shemale, or female Kynahi based upon your preference.))
Days must always begin with the rays of the dawn... Kynahi was the result of a one-night affair between a recognized brewmistress and a nameless slob of a Pandaren. Not so willingly, as is the way of strong drink.
...but before that must come the guidance of dusk. The brewmistress was never treated the same again; she wasn't looked down upon with the shame of society, but instead with the sorrow of 'support'. Not one of her friends had endured what she did, yet they continued to apologize for the mistake of a drunken buffoon. Why, they didn't even know about the only boon of the experience in the form of a tiny smiling babe. They didn't even recognize her potential as a student, instead dismissing her as the offspring of evil.
This cycle is as old as the very ground we walk upon... Day in day out the treatment continued. "Our apologies for what happened..." "With old pain comes new beginnings..." Slowly but surely did the business woman begin to partake in her own supply, drowning out the voices with the lovely burn of her own flowing drink.
...yet still -they- fight. They fight the rise and fall, the very forces that keep life at balance. Sooner rather than later, a whining babe at the age of four was tugging at the skirts of her fallen mother in the forests of bamboo, too far from society to fetch aid. For a week did the babe sit there, feasting upon the bamboo that surrounded them while crying out for her mother. On the final day did she lay her to rest, finding her way back into town with tears staining the soft fur upon her face and her mother's brewing hat in hand. An action like this was more than enough to conduct her into the Shang Xi Academy, famous for producing famous students of martial arts throughout the entire Isle.
Fear and despair rule their hearts, but something stands out from them. Something that separates them from the world. Every morning, for hours at a time did the little Pandaren train, returning to the academy with scorn in her masters' eyes and blood in her hands. By the end of year one were her fists as hard as her steeled heart, as was her instructors' opinion of her. So hard was their opinion that they were opting for her to be cast out of the monastery, but one soul remained resolute; the headmaster himself, Shang Xi. Instead he'd follow her out into the bamboo hollows, watching with a complacent smile as she pounded her clenched hands into the resilient stalks.
They fight. No matter the truth or the gravity, they fight. They cling to their cause, even if it is impossible. Under the silent guidance of the headmaster, Kynahi was given her new surname as a form of graduation, applied by her master. Her sensei.
Kynahi Dawnheart.
I am here to fight for those souls. The resolute hopeless, the adamant meek, and the stalwart despair.
Random Happenings!
October 6, 2012: Well well well. The motto 'Victory or Death!' doesn't apply in all situations, especially when presented with death. After nearly being swallowed by
Mel_Voronica... well, she didn't win, but she most certainly didn't die. Now she's stuck as their little servant-slave, to both her and her mate
Lynn_Voronica, complete with a reforming collar.
