The Jasarian's

You walk into a dark room, in what looks to be an odd looking tower.. a voice can be heard in the darkness you turn towards it, moving about in the dark.. wondering who.. what is here.. closer .. closer you move.. not seeing the figure.. the person.. the being in the chair.. only darkness.. as it washes over you. Once more it speaks to you.. "Come here .. and learn.. and know..." You move into the area. and a large crimson and black phoenix can be seen on a tattered golden banner.. it looks as if it has seen many wars, and once might have been held high and proudly in battle. you continue to glance round the room.. on the backs of a few chairs,.. you can see long red.. and long black leather sleeveless vests.. the traditional garb of the Jasarians. On the table, you can see two black sabres and a few black and red daggers all emblazoned with the Jasarian emblem, the phoenix

The room is dimly lit, it wreaks of smoke.. and ash.. the smell of battles won and lost.. even traces of magic.. can be felt in the room.. you spin towards the silent figure, yer the silence seems to command attention as it speaks volumes, the silver torches seem to flicker low, yet the room never gets any dimmer... you move and sits before the figure.. the voice you had heard seemed so sad.. so filled with sorrow and pain.. and then you see her.. Long hair worn like a dagger almost thinned as it goes down her back, her eyes dance, like a candle blowing in the wind, yet her face seems ageless.. her attire is that of a black leather vest and red leather pants, a black shirt is worn under the vest, she has black boots on her feet. The crimson brand can be seen on her shoulder, it is as dark and blackened as her soul.. her heart.. she looks to you, with eyes as blacker then any nightmare.. and she watches you relax as best you can in the stiff upright, hard back black chair and then her tale begins..

About 200 years ago this all started... A man.. called RaKaran was tired of being pushed down by people in Castillia.. he created a group.. of people.. DARK people. He went and traveled for many weeks, and even months to find the Best in certain fields, then he returned to Castillia, to show them all who was boss. He called them the Jakarans. The Jakarans were a group of elite fighters, warriors, and thieves. He excluded the Magi's thinking they to be weak as they did not use a blade, they used wood and magic as their weapons. And so he lead, making them bend to his will. They dressed all in black, as it was inconspicuous at the time of nightfall and bore the mark of a red dragon on their backs, the tail wrapping around their stomachs.. The mark was heavily emblazoned there by a man named Jorin, a man skilled in many an art, including body alteration. They were a brutal group for many years, stealing, killing, murdering, conquering... till RaKaran was defeated.. dishonoured.. killed.

His murderer, one called Jieya, took over. She was a spry young lass, and a thief to boot, one of the supposedly weaker groups in the Jakarans... you listen intently trying to ascertain some clue to this unknown clan.. this group who has done so much.. yet has caused so much utter destruction.. who cant seem to decide the direction to follow.. to go.. She changed many things, taking in the Magi who wanted to join.. letting in the assassins.. even bounty hunters.. all were welcomed.. She soon had one of the largest followings one could possibly imagine.. and such power in the hands of one.. can corrupt absolutely.

She stops and takes a sip of a dark looking drink on the table, raising it to her dry cracked lips and sips from it, then places it back down Yet once more the light was extinguished and darkness washed over the group.. evil wreaked it's toll.. the hatred and anger consumed, till all were insane and power hungry. It was then 2 people joined, Jasaya StarFire, the apprentice to a very powerful Dark Mage, joining per his orders to find out all she could, and to infiltrate the group, with the hopes of killing them all and stealing their souls. And Kayrani MoonSpirit, a fighter, bred through and through, life, honour and blood were part of who she was, and the things she had seen never really phased her often. They were both good people till the darkness consumed them, making them evil to no end, power hungry and insane. Jieya soon had them out plundering villages, killing people, stealing.. and destroying.. and the group flourished with the insanity these two women brought. She worked as well, changing the dragon to a phoenix, she thought it looked more devious.. and changed the location to one only the members then would know. The branding and burning process of the mark was made even more painful, to assure people knew what they were getting into.. several never made it past this process.

In time many raids and attacks happened and the two women somehow fell in love with people they met in one raid.. and married, bringing they husbands into the group as well, soon Kayrani became known as Kai and Jasaya known as Shade.. they were strong.. a Kai fighter and Shade a mage. Yet the leader Jieya, threatened if they ever bore children, they would be killed. All of them. And that cruelty and they both ran.. being cursed forever. The 4 of them trying to find peace elsewhere, the red phoenix marking them all forever.

She stops once more, tapping her old nails atop the table, gasping for breath as she shivers, a cold chill snaking up her spine, she then recomposes herself, and continues with her tale. Time came and went... as well as did the leaders change.. Jieya killed in battle... and Ma`rin` murdered by a dragon warrior... soon fifteen years Had passed. a good deal of the people, grew in the deep set honour the group had, a very deep honour.. one known as Jayna StarChaser joined.. and her anger drove most insane.. yet she held to the honour tradition, Killing no one in the group.. yet. For her the time was not right.

The current leader.. Zalire was a strong Man and managed to keep the members of this elite group inline. He decided to change the name of the group.. and then they were called the Jasarians.. founded in the land of Castillia, where they live and breathe, the unknowns, he called them, The emblem was changed to a crimson phoenix or a blackened phoenix depending on the person, he created the Jasar uniform, and still to this day them honourable ones wear it with pride. Zalire, fought hard to keep it going even when ShadowStar the High Mage left for a time, but while she was there she created a very tough Adversary. one known then only as Raven who had joined only a few months earlier. Zalire never could stop them from fighting and constant mage duels were breaking out.. as well general hell and chaos, between all in the clan.. people were taking sides.. Zalire was distressed, and was rapidly loosing control that he once so calmly possessed. one day before leaving, ShadowStar killed Zalire in a fight, stabbing her elven made sword through his chest, and she cut out his heart removing it for all to see, she then left in disgrace, leaving a trail of anarchy in her wake. One called Chyrie who joined a few years before Raven, the daughter of Kayrani, soon took over.

So much grief it was overwhelming, seeing Zalire killed, Raven up grabbed her weapons and left.. Having been there about a year or so, and in her opinion, that was a year or so too long. She hid the phoenix mark as well as she could, and left. Only to later be captured.... She trails off as if leaving the story of that to be told at a later time or by another..

After Zalire was murdered, Chyrie with the help of one called Tahiri took over they instituted weapons standards.. a school for helping to train the younger ones who joined.. yet soon Tahiri grew Rebellious tired of living in the Shadow of Chyrie, tired of never getting any credit, or praise, soon started her own thing.. some followed, and Tahiri grew to be a big rival for Chyrie.

She stops and scratches her head some, a small smile spreads over her face, as she thinks, and thinks hard, her mind racing over one that she suddenly recalls I remember one in particular.. I donít really know why... maybe it was her shyness... or her innocence.. Iíll never really be sure... she was a young one who stayed.. called Jasain I think.. looked no more then 13 and was very frightened, the mark on her arm scared her, and screamed like a banshee she did, when it was forced into her, the inking the man did terrifying her, as did many things.. she did as she was told, scared to be cast out, swept under a rug like dirt.. or thrown away like trash... her fear is one I doubt any will truly understand.. for her scars run deep. She tried her best, learning the ways of the Thief, stealing, taking from others, yet never did she truly belong there at all. She did her best, trying to support herself and those in the clan, as per Tahiri and Chyrie's rules, them being the only people who would take her in.. yet she could not really hurt anyone, wasn't in her nature, and her repeated failure left many a threat on her life, daily. With sleep scaring her.. and eating a constant danger.. and the fact that Chyrie and Tahiri scared her more then anything, she left.. ran..

Tahiri swore vengeance, on the traitors, as more people came and left, abandoning the group. While Chyrie worked harder getting people to trust her, learning advancing.. thinking.. seeing... Seeing the group falling apart, the only family Chyrie had known.. she worked twice as hard.. the standards of honour and the Ancient laws still in place as they had been for so many years to them..

Now some of them have appeared in these realms.. is it to learn? or seek revenge on those who ran from the group breaking the honour code? What will happen.. in the realms you can see them, wearing their long vests.. carrying their swords, black as their souls. They hold new meaning for the word Honour and Tradition, for their ways are theirs and theirs alone.. fight for honour.. for family.. defending them selves.. be ware who you cross, for not all of the Jasarians wear the traditional garb.. you never know if you will end up on the end of their swords. Not many know what their attire means or where they are from..

So many walk tall, anger within their eyes, they hunt the betrayers, those who are marked. The taste of blood in their mouths, and the lust for torture in their minds, bodies, and souls. To find those who betrayed is a boon and a true sword right of pain. To torment those who betrayed win favour within the group as well as prestige that so many hunger for. Lingering passions come from so many, and yet the hunted strive for their freedom. In time people change they get stronger or weaker, which will the hunted be?

she looks at you and stands and moves away, and in an instant she is gone from site.. leaving the question was she ever there to begin with, you move and quickly leave the room

~*The Jasarian Code..*~

A Jasar lives by honour, there is no honour in killing family, to kill a Jasar is to kill family.. and to kill family is to become hunted yourself.

A Jasar lives by the "rite of challenge" to defend the clan. If one dishonours the clan, a Jasar may challenge to the death.. to see if the one who brought dishonour remains alive or not.

A Jasar fights always to win, but never dishonourably

A Jasar's weapon is an extension of themselves, to lose it is to lose part of them selves.

A Jasar live, dies, and bleeds by what the They hold dearly.

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