Niabi Thalen

Who Am I...

Gladiator, close enough

Relationship Status


My Story Is...

The Past, it’s something that belongs behind, but not forgotten. It’s there as a reminder, a memory of old. Something you glance with hushed whispers and a gentle reminder. A people tore down in moments… breathlessly.. soundlessly… A darkness fallowed swiftly, moments of pain and agony. Separation into categories by fitness, skills, age, gender… it seemed endless… Pushed… taken.. moved… the swirling darkness swallowed many, leaving none behind in it’s wake.. Ancestors watch those in need…


Luck, a place that was secure, safe, willing to train, to try. Potential is what he said, You must earn your place though… To keep yourself well fed, dressed, accepted.. You must work hard or death’s grasp will clutch your spine as it’s breath chills your core. It will be hard, taxing, but worth it. Training will be brutal, bruises, cuts, blood, it will all flow to work the muscles into remembering. Flexibility, grace, and agility will allow your body out of harms reach, moving as the blades graze flesh and hair. Hair must be up and out of the way or grasping claws will catch you… Fists are preferred, but weapons are needed. Take care with such or they will fail you.


Fight, The stench of blood that makes the crowds roar in delight. Status, race, creed, it mattered none as long as the violence was enjoyable. You must perform, the cheers are your acknowledgement. The louder the better, red is what they scream. Flesh ripping, bone snapping, the splatter painting all in it’s way. They call for red… A thirst they cannot act upon, so you are the catalyst. Not all survive, friends, family, kin, many fall allowing the arena to drink and bask in those offered to the sands… but a death many would not regret.. Quin…


Victory, the first is a high, a drug you cannot obtain but you still grasp… clutch at the air as if it will arrive once more. Arms held high, never mind the red which now paints skin a deep color. The itch as it dries, the cheers and cries of delight. The feeling it brings is indescribable… adrenaline, excitement, happiness, sorrow, a swirl and blend twisting and churning around the core.. but a smile creeps, stretches with pride.

My Appearance

Age: 28
Height: 5’11”
Weight: 125 lbs
Hair color: Long Black hair, kept down outside of fights. During fights it’s kept in a tight bun or ponytail to stay out of ones grasp.
Eye color: Deep Amber
Markings: Right hand scars trail from her elbow to the tips of her fingers, Scars scatter across her features from many fights. Runes decorate her flesh over the scars, individual runes tattooed deep into her skin, written in phrases rather than single rune markings. These are located on upper arms creating a unique band, thighs much the same way, sides which trail from bust line to her hips. Individual runes rest on her fists, palms, top of her feet.


Twin Blades
Tomahawk Axe
Three hardened leather pouches filled with various elements for rune magic.

My Secrets Are...

I am fine where I am.