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The wealthy like to be entertained, and one of those entertainments in Petrioch were the grand carnivals full of animals from all over taught to do tricks. 'More amusing the the slaves,' her master used to say sometimes, thinking himself clever, or that the slaves in earshot could not do anything about it. And maybe they couldn't but seethe. This was the life Dara was born into: the child of two slaves whose job it was to tend to the animals. Her mother a trainer, her father a healer, and her life one of a little of both. As the family traveled with their master, one of the wealthy but not one of the nobility, they would tend to the animals. And since they knew how to tend to the animals they often learned to tend to the people as well. A medic to one, a medic to another. When they would come back for the off season to reside in Petrioch again, Dara would sometimes get a chance to study under someone new. She was at least one that got to read and write, to keep records and learn to think for herself. Of course, learning to think for one's self can just make slavery worse. And learning your craft better? Well that just meant sometimes an abusive guard who found himself needing medical attention didn't always make it through the night. But the nicer ones usually did. It was pure luck Dara, too much trouble her master said, had been sold when they reached Skal'daja. And even better luck that she was placed on Prince Damik's fleet and found her way to Arvum. Left to her, Dara's going to do the only thing she knows to do: follow the rumors that Princesss Fatima is here and join the cause to free Petrioch.

There are some matters about Dara's appearance that could one could say are common in Arvum and do not stand out. After all, how many in the Lyceum alone can boast of a tanned complexion against fair skin? How many in the Oathlands might lay claim to black hair? And surely the Crownlands offers its pick of women with soft, bow-shaped lips! Could not an equal measure of Northern women be both taller or shorter than she? And for that matter can you not find brown-eyed women in the Mourning Isles? Why, then, does Dara look so different? Dara stands out because for all the commonality one might find with her features, it's still marked by the alien and exotic. Her hair isn't just black, but it's inky black with hints of darkest blue irridescence in the right light. Her eyes aren't just brown, they are so dark as to be black in all but the brightest of lights. Her cheekbones and jawline are both high and pronounced, adding a delicate look th the structure of her face, something a little different than seen on the shores of Arvum until recently. And that fair complected tan? How easily it becomes golden with just a little exposure to the sun.

There are some people who are just born as gentle souls, no matter the life and circumstances they're placed in. Dara is one of these. She doesn't waste energy on the things she can't change, and instead devotes it on that which she can. It leaves her with a serene air of acceptance and a smile; a smile that some of her overseers found unnerving. Especially when they saw it during her moments of having a chance to do something about a still-remembered wrong.