Bia of Helmutsport Eye Color: Blue Hair Color: Blonde Heigth: 5 Gorean Feet ((5'2")) Weight: 30.2 Stone ((121 pounds)) Markings: A scar, approximately 4 horts in lenght along the front of the upper left thigh. The scar is still pink showing its newness. ~*~My History~*~ I’m Bia. I’m pretty simple though I suppose we all have complexities to our lives. My story isn’t filled with mysteries or dramatic twists and turns just a few curves and bumps so far. I come from a large family, and when I say large, I mean large! I’m the youngest child of eleven. My father, Eyvindr, is a fisherman on the island of Hulneth, my mother was a scribe born in Caledonia. My mother, Brigit, was the only child of my grandfather Bjorn, the town’s scribe years and years and years ago. In his early years, my father sailed to Caledonia to deliver the season’s fresh catch and hopefully make a bit more coin. You see, on the island, everyone fishes and you know how supply and demand go. So Father sailed to Caledonia and there, as he often told it over a horn of mead, he landed his greatest catch. But this is more the story of my parents, and not of me. Suffice it to say, they fell in love and though he only a fisherman and she a scribe, my grandfather, convinced my father would be a good companion, gave his blessing. They spent years in Caledonia, but Hulneth was my father’s home. When his father passed and left the family business to my father, my parents returned to the island. They were happy there, I don’t really know how many of my siblings were born in Caledonia and how many came after, but all I ever knew was my island home. Most north women are blonde, blue eyed and tall. Odin didn’t fail me with the long locks of sun washed blonde or turbulent blues that revealed every emotion but on height I was sorely lacking. My parents, and even now my siblings, joke that by the time I came, Odin was out of height to give. So I stand right at 5 Gorean feet, a good 6 horts shorter than my shortest sister and I won’t even talk about how much taller my brothers are. As the youngest, I was forever running after the others. They would think to exclude me because I was too young, or too little, or it was too dangerous and at first, that worked. Then later, I became crafty. I learned how to trail silently after my brothers and sisters. I learned how to stay quiet as I spied on their adventures and I learned to watch them so carefully, that as soon as they were out of sight, I could try their latest, grandest feats. I especially loved to follow after Logan. He was my hero. He was older as the eighth child, but not so old that he was stuffy. He was as tall as the tem wood tree and stronger than anyone I knew even at a young age. He was, indeed, my idol. It was Logan who would give in the quickest when I pressed to join them on adventures and Logan who would watch after me and make sure I didn’t get hurt. Logan taught me to swim in the mighty Thassa and then how to walk across the fathomless depths when Se-Var came and gripped the north in its icy throes. It was Logan who taught me how to dive from the high cliffs on the south side of the island. And it was Logan who taught me how to do somersaults in the air before arcing into a perfect dive. It was Logan who taught me how to fish with a spear, whether from the rocky juts or while swimming. It was Logan who first plied me with Meade and Logan who ran and chased and played with me in the surf and sand until the Three Moons rose high in the night sky. Don’t get me wrong, I was close to all of my siblings, but it was to Logan, that I was the closest. Life was idyllic, our family was filled with love and warmth and honor. We had no wealth, but we were never without what mattered most; family. Laughter filled our days and peace our nights. ~*~The First Bump in My Life~*~ The first bump came when my Mother’s eyes began to dim and she could no longer see to tally the numbers. Many of my brothers and sisters were already mated and creating their own families and since I was the youngest, and most likely to remain home the longest, it was I who was chosen to stay home and keep my father’s accounts. I have a good head for numbers and a sharp mind, or so I am told. While I would have rather continued playing carefree, my responsibility came first. I took it seriously and grew in my penmanship and my ability. We never owned slaves, they were just another mouth to feed and besides, as my father would say, “This is why I have so many children!” We each had our duties. My brothers learned the art of fishing and sailing. And my three sisters and I helped our mother within the home, cooking, cleaning, mending, and the like. I really thought life would go on like this until it was time for me to make my own family. But last En’Var, the second change came when my parents told me that I would need to go to Caledonia –alone- to care for my sick grandfather. ~*~Thrown for a Curve~*~ My world shattered though I did not show it. Me? Really? But I was the baby! What would I do without my family? Without my Logan? I wanted to cry, I wanted to rail against the injustice, I wanted it to be one of my other sisters, not me! But all the thoughts I kept to myself. Family was family. We all made sacrifices. My sisters were older and expected to mate sooner than I. It was what was expected. I boarded the boat fighting back tears as I watched my family wave from the dock. I stared until the island was nothing but a tiny speck vanishing over the horizon and then I still stared, that I would know where to look when my feet hit the mainland. I didn’t have much time to adjust before the snows came. My days were filled looking after grandfather and then the nights were spent running the Inn in town. I found a second family and life was not so bad. ~*~Watch Out for Falling Rocks~*~ Life, as I have discovered this past year, is rife with change and not always for the better. The third change came in the disguise of a man. He came, as often they do, and with sweet words and promises claimed me as his Mate. I won’t lie, I was swept off my feet, but always I knew he hid things from me. With curves and bumps in our path, we left Caledonia and traveled. We saw the Barrens and then eventually went to Ar, his Homestone. He was wealthier than I had imagined and some coin was sent to my grandfather and to my family. My grandfather had left Caledonia by this point to live out the rest of his days with His daughter and grandchildren. Ar was like nothing I had ever experienced before. The veils women wore were so restricting, they hid smiles and muffled laughter and made drinking quiet impossible but I could understand the need. It was so crowded and men there came from all walks of life; sellswords, mercenaries, slavers, cutthroats abounded. It was then that my Mate began to travel alone for business purposes. I paced the halls of his home, spending hands and hands alone in the cold marble house that felt more like a tomb. By then, I knew things were wrong but I had been raised to be loyal, to stand by one’s Mate. Companionship, on Gor, though a year long in legality in the southern cities most often lasted a lifetime. I wanted what my parents had. Perhaps I was greedy, but I knew what could be and I wanted no less. I pushed aside niggling thoughts, I pushed aside doubts. En’Kara had long come and gone, the days grew longer and still he did not return. The doubts grew stronger. I hired men to look for him, to bring me back word and none came. Packing my belongings, and all that was in the safe and available to me – a substantial amount, I returned to the north, to Helmutsport and purchased a house there. Later, when in Ar for a festival, I received word of his death. He had been in Corcyrus and had died of the Bazi plague. The certificate had been signed by the physicians of Corcyrus. I wouldn’t lie if asked, but I would not volunteer it, however, with that letter came an enormous relief mingled with bittersweet memories. I suspected he had been up to no good but I had no proof. I suspected he had lied about many a thing, but I had no proof. I tried to recall his sweet words, his charm, the light he had in his eyes when he looked at me, but I couldn’t. I had misplaced my loyalty and well knew it and that knowledge wiped away the feelings I once had. For if feelings are based on lies and deceit, then the feelings are false ones. I took everything I could from the house in Ar. What I didn’t want or couldn’t take, I sold. I was wealthy now. The only concern I had was that there had been no will. The tax collectors would come to collect their taxes and find the house empty. I knew without a will, the estate would revert to the city, but I was entitled. Ar could have that marble tomb, but I would take everything I could liquidate. This brought the fourth and most recent change. ~*~The High Road or The Low Road~*~ A year had wrought separation, love, pain and changes I never expected. Now, I was almost full cycle. I was back in the north, with friends I held dear. I was widowed and wealthy but my family still remained on the island. I had no reason not to return to the island and yet with the Great War in Sognefjord and Se-Var quickly approaching, I relied on those excuses to stay on the mainland. I feel in limbo now. I have no one to answer to. Not my father, not my grandfather, not a Mate. It is freeing and yet it is burden at times. It is lonely and yet there is a quiet solitude that is at times peaceful. During my stay in Sognefjord this change became even more evident. Each woman there had a Man, whether a Mate, a father, or a brother, in the war. I had none. I felt relieved and yet guilty. I was glad not to have to worry about losing someone dear to me and yet I felt alone in having no one with whom to share my fears. Those conflicting feelings only grew with each day, especially after I came so close to the enemy in Sognefjord’s Infirmary. I am restless now. Unsettled. At times I feel as if something looms close enough that my fingertips might brush it and at others it seems there is only air. Sleep evades me, and when I find snatches of it, nightmares invade my slumber. I want to get away from everyone and everything; to be alone with my thoughts and yet, being alone is the last thing I want. I could find no logical reason to remain in Sognefjord. I had no ties other than the friendships that had sprung from this Odin awful war; this war that was waged for a woman and her land. My closest friends had returned to Helmutsport and it seemed the thing for me to do. The guards who had accompanied me from Ar, made the preparations and in a rare break in the weather, our tarns took flight. I had the feeling I had lost something as I left, as if something was missing. I felt the bitter pang of goodbyes and the trepidation of what one could not see; the future. And now, I am home, or in what I am struggling to make my home. Se-Var is coming, the cold winds are sweeping down from the north and across the mighty Thassa. The white caps seem to froth more each day as her waves crash against the rocky shore. I can feel the chill in my bones and I can't help but to think how much my life has changed in the past year. I do not want to face a long, cold winter alone. More and more I consider seeking a Companionship for convenience. In many ways, it seems practical. It is not easy living alone, there is no one to answer the door when a knock comes late in the evening, no one but me. Should danger pass the city guards, I realize I am unprotected. I try not to dwell on such thoughts, but they are there and more and more with the days growing shorter, I realize how vulnerable my position is. I've hesitated but think the time has come where I need to hire a permanent retinue of guards. And yet, I hold out, seeking what my parents have, that seemingly elusive connection to another, that serves both the practical and the not so practical flutterings of the heart. I suppose, only time will tell what lies next in my path of life.