Taken from her home, raine was originally known as Dasani of Urth. She was transported by force to Gor on the small air-cargo ships that hovered on the sugary sands of the coast. Dasani knew nothing of Gor, only that she did not wish to go. She kicked and bit at the men who finally subdued her by a strong slap across her face. Dazed she stumbled back. At that moment, strong arms encircled her from behind like a steel vice.

“This spitfire will look good in steel eh?” The first man said to the second as he turned to her with a syringe.

“Fiery and independent do not settle well with Gorean ways.” Said the second against her ear. Those were the last words Dasani heard.  Before the needle slipped into her skin and her world went black. Unconscious, she was stripped and bound into the small animal-like crate where her new life would lie.

As Dasani awoke, even with her blurred vision, she saw hundreds of women in the same crates; their bodies bare, beautiful, and brimming with emotions. Some in tears, some in shock, and some were in utter disbelief. As she tried to shake her head to clear it, she became aware how tightly her head, arms, waist, and legs were bound. A scream pierced the air.

Dasani was unsure if the scream came from her own throat or that of another as she tried to stifle the wave of nausea in her womb at being treated lick some kind of animal. A whip hissed through the air. The scream rose again. Frantically her eyes moved over the crates seeking the source of the perilous shrill. The small dark haired girl was sobbing uncontrollably as the whipmaster (Dasani would soon learn to call him) jerked the girl violently upwards and all but tossed her to another man as if she were a toy.

Knowing her body was very allergic to pain, she closed her eyes making her vision small slits so she could observe, plan, and escape. Hoping they would think her still knocked out, she watched as woman after woman was unbound and carted off. Dasani watched the routine of the men, unbinding, ungagging, numbering and carting off the women. The routine was without variance. She knew her only chance to escape would be to go through the motions silently and docile. When the third man’s back was turned, and only if she were quick, Dasani knew she could make a run for it.

Cursing Richard Simmons aerobics had been a hobby of Dasani's until now. With everything she was, as she was tagged, numbered, and unbound by the man they called Bashcal, she prayed those long hours of videotapes would pay off. Appearing docile and meek, Dasani moved through the processing. A man lifted her fiery mane before pulling it roughly. Another commented on the graceful arch of her throat, and another her long, strong legs.

Hearing his comments about her legs, as if she were at a horse show, Dasani had to stop herself from rolling her eyes and snorting at him. She was nearing the exit way now. She could breathe the fresh air. It was almost dark. She could see the men holding flashlights and grunting as they shook them at the girls for direction. She watched under lowered lashes as only two more girls stood between her and freedom. Two became one. And then none. Baschal’s back turned and Dasani flew out the door as fast as her legs would carry her. She dodged in and out of empty crates as she heard the shouts of the men behind her. Never did she look back for fear that they would be gaining on her. The air was clean moving in her lungs as she raced and jumped over the small stones making her way into the trees. The woods were thick, dense. Branches snapped on her body, scratches pierced skin and still she ran.

Marrying Richard Simmons would be the first thing she would do when she got back home, wherever home was Dasani thought as her barefeet sloshed through the water quickly before falling head first over the tree that had fallen. Dasani’s breath was completely knocked away as she sputtered and gasped back to the surface.

Shouts greeted her at the surface. Those men, the tight binds, the whip, the crying girl, the crate were the images fluttering through her mind as she lowered back down into the water using the dark night and the fallen tree for cover. Dasani had no idea where to go, where she was, or what to do. But she knew that she would NEVER be whatever it was that those men wanted if she were going to be treated like an animal!

After what seemed a lifetime Dasani brought her lips to the surface to bring more air into her lungs. It was not easy sitting still when men sloshed all around her and her heart beating out of her chest. But she had survived. She had escaped!

Dasani wanted to leap from the water in joy to press her hand to her lips and give the men the big kiss off. But could not find the energy and simply allowed her body to drift along the water keeping clear from either side less she be seen.

Waking up on the gritty sand had not exactly been Dasani’s idea of a good night’s sleep. Languidly Dasani began to stretch her limbs, when she realized this was not a bed, and she was not home. Swallowing her fear and quickly lifting her head to scan the area, Dasani sighed in relief as she knew she was quite alone. Her body ached, her throat was parched, her hair matted and her limbs scratched all over.

Pulling up her bruised body, wiping a hand over her hair and her face. Wincing as her fingertips touched the swollen lip from the slap, Dasani lifted herself and rinsed in the river’s edge and gauged its course. Looking to the left Dasani saw that the river widened, to the right it narrowed. Thinking there would be a city or a port - anything - at its widening Dasani moved in the shallowness of the tree line.

Dasani walked for miles still not knowing where she was or more importantly why she was here. Her shoulders shivered as she wondered at the fate of the girls on the transport ship and she lifted her chin a little higher knowing it would not happen to her.

After what seemed like forever, Dasani came upon a cliff. Below her laid a camp sprawled on the sand and grasses. Dasani caught her breath at its glory before her eyes spotted a cottle of slave girls being marched along the field in plain daylight as if cows to market. Immediately she fell to her knees and inched away from the edge of the cliff.

Momentary panic threatened to overwhelm Dasani as she gulped in air realizing the purpose of which she was transported to this place called Gor. Anger, white hot anger, assailed her senses as she turned to scurry away only to stop suddenly as her eyes watched a dress blow in the breeze seemingly from out of nowhere. Crouching quickly Dasani scanned the area seeing nothing, trying to sense if it were a trap, seeing nothing her hands reached to grab the dress and slide it on before lifting it over her thighs and running again through the woods towards the small camp.

Dasani did not see the man in the tree line that watched her. She did not know how she reminded him of a girl he once knew. So proud and graceful, yet defiant and beautiful, Dasani would grow in her beauty only with time, and only under another’s hands. They would not be his, nor could he save her from what she would become, her purpose, or her destiny. He would only push her in the right direction knowing she would fight it all the way. Baschal chuckled, he only hoped she would not get herself killed.

Baschal had watched the feisty girl with the mane of red on earth for so long now she was like a daughter to him, perhaps because of the one he lost. Her time on Earth shortened only because he was tired of not having her nearer. Dasani would never know it was he that directed her abduction. She would never know it was he that placed the simple peasant gown to hang on the tree limb. No, she would never know but he would. And that was enough.

Many days passed as Dasani slipped around the camp nervously. The steel worn on the neck of the other girls was lacking on hers and each time someone passed she hid under a wagon, in a crate, under a bosk, or any nook she could find. Dasani was beautiful, she was witty, and kind, and a survivor. Being a slave held no appeal to her.

Ever resourceful, Dasani waited until the merchant drank himself into a stupor and stole a kolar and slipped it over her neck hoping noone would look to closely at it and realize it was not locked. It was as like this that Dasani first met the man in whose steel she would find her soul and then to lose it again.

She ventured into the City of Laura after sitting atop the grassy hill. It was here she met Sandtiger and they spoke briefly, casually, about interesting things. This is where she first learned of Panther girls and their habits. She was impressed by his heart long before she really looked at his strength. Little did she know of the Jihadhi or of its meaning. Had she known of him, it is doubtful that she would have been allowed the pleasantries. The black torturers mask covered the lower half of Sandtiger’s face. He had been in the Tahari - the desert. Dasani had learned long ago, that the eyes hold the measure of a man. As they spoke, a shiver of awareness moved over her skin as if a whisper. Thinking it an omen, Dasani bade the man known as Sandtiger, wind before his all too knowing eyes found no lock upon her kolar.

As Dasani returned to the Kassar camp, hunger began to drive her. Tired, hot, and hungry she moved slower around the camp that she knew like the back of her hand and fell to the man’s feet she had always seen treat the other girls fairly and with compassion prepared to beg.

Shawn Mcrae towered over her. As his endless questions became clouded in her mind, she knew nothing but hunger and begged for anything that would get her fed. Once too proud to ever consider such a fate as slavery, Dasani now begged for the merest crust of sa-tarna bread.

Shawn Mcrae of the Kassar Camp placed a camp kolar on Dasani’s neck and presented her to the Ubar for his service. In return, a few days later, the Ubar gave nadia back to Shawn Mcrae as a gift for his long dedicated service as a guard for the camp.

Shawn Mcrae was a good man. He was strong and fair. As he collared and branded Dasani, his friend and mentor gave her a new name...nadia.

Shawn Mcrae and nadia moved soon from the Kassar Camp and into the city of Babonti to help build it. nadia was happy there. They both helped build the city and nadia became a kajira and dance coordinator. Mcrae would often allow nadia to venture outside the gates of the city with Guards or FreeWomen on trips. She was loved and nurtured.

The guards soon would visit Harigga to trade, nadia was allowed to go. She would pick up necessary servery goods for Kassar. As they arrived in camp, shivers of awareness ran over her spine as she saw the familiar face of Sandtiger. Sandtiger and His family welcomed her as if she were their own and she was given permission to return.

As weeks turned into months, nadia served Shawn Mcrae well and loved him deeply as he her, so much so that he freed her when his responsibilities became much greater and he was not able to care for her as his honor would allow. He set her free with the protection of guards as she made her way into her knew life.

nadia knew no other man that drew her save one and she had not seen him in quite some time. As she her way around cities and camps and was welcomed by F/friends that she had made in her journeys with his presence in her mind. Visiting Harigga, and perhaps skirting danger, nadia came face to face with that man. As nadia sat upon the furs visiting friends, she continually found her gaze straying to him atop his wagon. Jihadhi, Tuchuk torturer - all names for the man known as Sandtiger.

Little did she know, she was not the only one of them glancing at the other when they thought one was not looking. Two days later, after special permission from Ubar KnightStorm, Sandtiger jumped down from his wagon and stood over her as she knelt on the sands. At his presence she gulped and quieted instantly forgetting what she was saying to her friend willow. The kolar gleamed in his hand as bright as his eyes and nadia didn’t know whether to run or beg.

Her eyes closed tightly as images fluttered through her mind as pictures of her life. Home, so far away, seemingly another lifetime. Abduction - hunger - camp - love - pain - Mcrae - hurt - devotion - independence - screams - him, all scurried through her head as her eyes fluttered upwards to his eyes.

Captured as if a butterfly, trapped, betrayed by her own heart and desire, the proud girl lowered her head as his hands placed steel to her creamy throat.

“Your eyes remind me of dancing rain each time I have seen you. You will now be known as raine.” His hand tightened over her kolar, “And you will be known as Mine.” Fear gave way to something else the moment raine heard his words. Her eyes flew to his searching, seeking…finding. She did not know if it was right or wrong to give up her freedom- not knowing him - but knowing trust - absolute and total trust- raine whispered her thanks through the tears that slipped down her cheeks.

The years came and went as raine served Sandtiger with her heart and soul until such day came that he had no longer a need for her and sold her to Slayer of Harigga.  raine was now the chain sister of stacy, first girl of the house of Slayer.  stacy and she became the best of friends as well as sisters.  Slayer was a very kind man and set aside a part of what raine earned for Him.  One day after raine had proved her worth, Slayer freed her and she became Raine of Harigga.  

Now Raine was a smart woman and had travelled all of Gor with her past Masters and she knew many people.  She was welcomed with a smile everywhere she went and begin drawing and painting within the Caste of Scribes Artisan Division.  

Upon entering the Tuchuk Camp at Ragnar's place Raine met Christian and soon they became inseperable to the point that Christian asked for permission and was granted her hand to FC.  But Raine's brothers Slayer and Tsukare had other ideas.  Christian had yet to prove himself and was a simple outrider.  Upon the night of Christian coming to ask for Raine's hand to Ubar Knightstorm, Slayer and Tsukare decided that Raine would not leave Harriga and upon a whim Tsukare enslaved her.  

raine was a slave again and she was not allowed to think of Christian or her past Masters because Tsukare always had her on the move.  They were in search of a new home after happenings at Harriga.  After a while Tsukare decided to travel the Tahari and freed raine again with enough provisions, monies, and wagons to pick up her caste and paint again.  

Eventually Raine came to Mount Ordeals to help build and paint his training center for assassins.  Protected by many, still welcomed with open arms wherever she may travel, Raine makes her home among the mountains at Mount Ordeals.

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