Adventures of Pentaberlos
Human, Monk: 1
HP: 10, AC: 15, Preferred Weapon: Unarmed
Proficiencies: Acrobatics, Handle Animal, Stealth, Survival, Trapper’s Tools, Gaming Set, Mounts (land), Club, Dagger, Handaxe, Lt Cbow, Longspear, Q-Staff, Short Swd, Sling, Spear, Unarmed.
Zhun has keen eyes. Brown. Hair shaved back. Before prison, it was black and she wrapped it in a scarf to keep attention away from herself—and to hide a few weapons.
Stands 5’9 at 160 Imperial Pounds. The once youthful joy of her face has drained away in these last 12 months leaving only a stern, quiet, hunter’s demeanor.
Zhun’s physique has a muscular build, though it shows many bruises and scars from Imperial custody. Her clothes were burned when she entered prison she left wearing the tunic and pants they gave her. Since then, she’s “collected” only the rudimentary tools necessary for her task at hand—wakizashi, crossbow, grappling hook, tools of the trade, her wits, and her discipling.
Though uncertain when it comes to the art of persuasion, Zhun appears thoughtful and wise to those who know her best. And yet, after all she’s been through, it would be a wonder of wonders if those closest to her would now recognize her at first glance.
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This is my final day in here. Xeisha do not be afraid I have not forgotten you You are the only reason my spirit survives on The imperial filth could not break me of this I owe my life to you and Honor Setsoru He has trained me for your release Xeisha, your captivity ends today.”
Zhun Qi’s family has lived as trappers in the Northern forests of Pentaberlos for generations beyond remembrance. The Empire’s forward scouts arrived 10 years ago; and until recently, the Empire’s presence was a mere formality. A few years ago, a party of rebels came to the Northern Forests seeking asylum and sympathies. Zhun’s father, the patriarch of their clan, mistrusted them, but gave their leader, a stocky unshaven half-orc, food and a few supplies on the condition they leave the end of the week. The rebels were grateful and agreed, only to break their promise. They ran hit-and-run attacks against the local Imperial militia over many months. Finally, the Empire sent one of it’s most decorated units, the Hand of the Stars, to the Northern Forest under the cover of night. The rebels were ambushed and all slain but one—a stocky unshaven half-orc. Interrogated, he spilled every name of those who gave assistance to the rebels, including Patriarch Qi. Qi family furs confirmed the claims.
The Imperial troops came at sundown, ransacked the long house, and the clan’s parching house. In their zealousness they barely questioned Zhun’s father. They judged him guilty of treason against the Empire and slaying him there in the parching house. As punishment and reparation to the Empire, Zhun’s sister and a few cousins were captured and taken away. The men were away on a trap in the forests, and would not return for two months.
Zhun could not forgive herself for not resisting the soldiers and their false accusations. She gathered supplies and left on a long trek to rescue her lost kin.
For many months Zhun made her way through the countryside, asking for the Imperial Unit’s whereabouts and the destination of political prisoners. Her trail ran cold in Cinder City. There she ran amok of a newly conceived rebel cell: the Vangaard. They seemed knowledgeable of the Empire’s ways, many of whom were former soldiers. She received shelter in their safehouse, though she was loathe to accept help from any who called themselves rebels. That night one of their number was revealed a spy, and Imperial troops rained down through the straw roof above. Imperial mages set the building aflame, and Zhun was captured, incarcerated, and tortured as a rebel and traitor to the Empire.
For months she lay chained in an Imperial cell. One day, tapping came through the wall behind her from a fellow prisoner. Over time she learned the code, and learned his name was Setsoru, a sage from her province. Through the wall along with scrawlings passed down a shared gutter, Setsoru passed down his lessons to her. He discipled her, training her to peak physical condition. One morning, Honor Setsoru’s message came tapping across the wall: This week is your last here. We escape soon.
Finally, the time had come, she told herself. They sporadically, training, practicing form after form. Counting down each day by carving it into the wall between them.
Morning of the last day came and went and sundown began. The countdown has finished.
Now, she only awaits Honor Setsoru’s signal to shake off the shackles, batter down the gates, and step out into the cool light of the moon. It didn’t matter how many leagues more lay between her and her sister. The Empire had foolishly readied her to face every one of them, and she was ready to return the favor.