Sasha Uri Ramadanovitch

Sasha is a gypsy bard newly arrived to the city of Corvis. He wears a old velvet cloak which is the colour of midnight usually drawn about him in southern fashion. Black hair spills out from his hood and brown eyes peer down an angled nose. Swarthy skinned and accented speech gives Sasha a foreign look about him that is both intense yet approachable.

Under Sasha's cloak you will will have noticed an extravagantly tooled set of studded leather seemingly untouched by age nor skirmish. A wickedly barbed whip encircles his waist over a broad belt while a small pouch hangs from his right hip almost concealing a dueling pistol of some antiquity which lays in a holster strapped on, beneath the pouch. A curious black dagger in a non-descript scabard hangs just below and to the left of his elegantly tooled buckle. Tall black boots come up past his knees almost hiding what was once bright and expensive hose.

Around his neck tied on a leather thong hangs the symbol of his trade, a well cared for elven flute. Along the body of this instrument are carved vines and leaves that look to be alive and many have commented on the sweet seeming aroma that lingers after any performance played on it. For any who have had the chance to hear the soft lilting notes of a northern lament or the lively uplifting notes of a jig will appreciate the diversity of this seemingly simple instrument.

Sasha's easy going nature and entertainer background allows him to deal with the myriad of social situations that have arisen with relative confidence. Having developed numerous contacts within the city of Corvis both prosperous and powerful, Sasha hopes to one day settle down and further develop his bardic talents in relative peace and comfort.

 

Can't get enough Sasha?

Perhaps you would like to hear the by now infamous "Devil went down to Corvis!"

or maybe Sasha's background before becoming an adbventurer?

 

Ah, but what of Sasha you ask ... Musician. Warrior. Lover. I could easily rest upon such laurels and yes all of these things I have been, but since doubtless you have heard the ballads and songs of me I will dwell not upon them.

For every page turned in any great adventure and for every great hero enshrined within a hundred other would be hero's die unheard of and forgotten. I have met many of these would be hero's in my time and in truth all great heroes have trod this little respected road. Many years ago I too decided to take to the road seeking fame and fortune long ago in the 9th Year of the Lord Leto Raelthorne I of Cygnar.

When a gypsy leaves his family and friends, nobody sheds any tears or in any way shows grief for those who have chosen to leave the wagons, for all know that above all else that is precious on life, there is the freedom of spirit which can not be shackled. Although I dare say that there were a few maids that had reason to cry as I left that fine summer morning. I am also man enough to admit that there was many a cold morning that I awoke cold and hungry on the road side and cried when thinking of all of those warm and willing maids that I had so easily left behind.

I wondered about the land experiencing life as I came across it. Life can be hard when your strength comes from the muse and not your back and arms. I sang for my lodging and played for my supper and every so often I borrowed from those who had not yet thought to offer. As tough as things ever got though, I stayed true to the ideals of my people and would like to think that there would even be a few who would remember me kindly from those days.

What? Oh yes, this pistol ... I'm getting to that! Few times in any lifetime does any one person meet another soul whose light shines with the same intensity as his own. Aaron Ap'Gryphon was just such a soul. Aaron could have been my twin in all ways but looks. His tall northern build and fair skin and hair marked a large contrast to my swarthy tones and yet during the time that I called him friend others would come to combine our names to Sasharon when coming to call on us for we were never apart.

For three summers we spent every spare moment of our time seeking wine, women and song. During the days, Aaron had studies and I was contracted by his father to teach Aarons two baby sisters, Gwendolyn and Agnes about song and musical instruments. I have yet to be paid so much for doing so little save that which I love and during that time I wanted for nothing.

Unfortunately as with all good stories there must be conflict and ours would come from a surprising source. For as our friendship grew so to did the little Gwendolyn.

Gwendolyn reached her 16th year and I dare say that without my noticing, she had inherited a great many charms and it was not too long before we fell in love. I know that love is a word that is thrown around sometimes too casually, especially by bards. To look back I know that I could have avoided much pain for both Gwendolyn and I, but such is life. For words of my affection for Gwen had reached my friends ears from those who disaproved of our close friendship.

You see Aaron was nobly born while I was considered quite the vagabond. Many would like to see Aaron rid of my low born influence and so it came to pass that armed with poisonous half truths he confronted both myself and my precious Gwen with all kinds of unfair accusations about our relations. I cared little for his assault on my honour but My pride would not allow him to speculate about Gwendolyns purity.

So there I was after very many hateful words and even an exchange of blows I found myself standing back to back with the only true friend I had ever known, a duelling pistol hanging heavily in my hand as I walked to the beat of a remorseless drum.

And then there was silence.

I realized that three spirits would die that day regardless of who was rewarded with death. To my left I could see Gwen lying at the marshals feet pleading for the seconds to intervene. Too my right I could see the coffins that had been thoughtfully provided and ahead of me all I could see was an endless landscape upon which myriads of trees reached for the sky and a circling Hawk screeched aloud as a warm wind lifted it to the heavens. I would not kill any one that day, and in a rare moment of clarity, instead of turning to face my friend, I just kept walking.