Kipcha Al'Shain

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Kipcha Al'Shain
Kip Cha Al shane
Created by Ashley
Gender Female
Occupation Accepted
Affiliation The Grey Tower
Nationality Saldaean

Kipcha Al'Shain is a Saldaean Accepted of the Grey Tower.


Kipcha is tall, about 5'8, with dirty-blonde hair, which falls in a straight wave down her back, reaching nearly to her knees. She has murky green eyes, which look hazel in dim light. Her eyes are often looking into the distance, and she is prone to be distracted. Her face is unreadable, and she has become used to hiding her emotions. The high cheekbones, hooked nose, and tilted eyes of her people marks her as Saldaean. Her body is slightly curved, as she has already grown into womanhood, and her eyes are always alight with some kind of mischief. She hides her back, which is covered with brutal scars, which she is afraid to show.

She is a wary woman, slow to trust those around her because of how she has been hurt in the past. Due to the treatment given to her by her father, she flinches quite a bit when around men, but tries to maintain a semblance of calm when she is around them. When interacting with others, she is awkward and often doesn’t fit in - she never really learned how to appropriately deal with people as a child, due to her upbringing, and that unfortunately has lent itself to how she interacts with people as an adult. She is trying, though, to get past that and move forward, to put her past behind her. She is a quick study, though the way she learned to channel the power makes it difficult for her sometimes to control her weaves. She is prone to some outbursts of anger, and she wants to have fun, to be a normal person. At least on the outside. In private, she is a confident person, knowing that the Great Lord of the Dark guides her hand.


"No, Papa! Please, no, not again!" Kipcha tossed on her small, hard pallet, her normally mischief-filled eyes screwed shut in a grimace of pain. Again, she felt her father’s whip upon her back, blows leaving painful red welts, some of which would open and bleed in a day’s time. She sat up straight, her eyes wide and panic-filled.

"Light," she muttered, wiping a long-fingered, pale hand across a sweaty forehead. No, she told herself. No, the Light won’t help me now. It never has, and it never will. She stepped out of bed, careful not to let her dress touch the still-painful stripes crossing her back from neck to hips.

Glancing out the one small window her father allowed in her room, Kipcha was relieved to see that the sun had not yet risen. She knew that with the sun came her father, and with her father came an inevitable beating. With a tired sigh, Kipcha tied her long blonde hair back with a simple leather thong, her murky green eyes narrowing for a moment in disgust. Her father had been in another rage yesterday, from a bad sale of ice peppers, and had torn apart much of their normally well-kept, and spacious home, which Kipcha found herself cleaning again and again, per her father’s orders.

Sometimes, she got so angry she could… No. She pushed the thought to the back of her mind, to brew with the others, the rebellious and independent thoughts her father kept her from thinking, through use of brute force. Sixteen years. She stopped in surprise at the menace in that voice. At first, she didn’t recognize that it was her own, speaking with the malice and contempt that she couldn’t voice aloud, for fear of another beating from her father. Sixteen years you have been a slave in your own household. No more. You know the Great Lord of the Dark can help you, can help you make him pay for the pain inflicted upon you. The Darkfriends told you so, at the gathering in the village. You had promise, they said. You should turn to the Great Lord.

"I won’t," she muttered, her voice husky. She knew that the voice in her head would win eventually, and the Great Lord would have her, but habit of praying and believing in the Light would keep her fighting to the bitter end.

"Kipcha!" her father barked from within his room. "That you?"

Kipcha pushed back the urge to snap back at him. It was in her nature, as a Saldaean, to have a horrible temper, and allowing it to showcase itself at the most unwanted times was an occurrence that happened all too often.

Deciding not to answer, Kipcha’s eyes glazed over, and she found herself thinking of a time when she was happy, when she was young and her mother still alive; her father still pleasant, the idea of beatings not yet in his head. Once her eyes opened again, she was in time to see her father’s arm come crashing down upon her head.

"Stupid girl!" he hissed, blows cascading upon Kipcha’s neck and shoulders. His eyes glinted with murder, and Kipcha had no doubt that this time, he would kill her.

"Useless! Nothing to me!" With each curse, the blows rained down harder, and Kipcha felt her defenses weakening.

Her eyes shut tight, Kipcha felt anger, such like none she had felt before come billowing to the surface. She felt powerful, more able to win, than ever she had. There was a rush of power, sudden as a storm, which dissipated just as quickly. She opened her eyes, in surprise, to see her father crumpled on the wall, a thick trail of blood slipping from the corner of his mouth. His chest still moved, though in the slow, measured breaths of one in unconsciousness. Still, she fled.

For days she traveled, the feelings of being beaten, of being unwanted, fleeing before her as the thought of her newly found freedom came to the surface. Never again would her father curse the day she was born, cursing her for being born a girl, instead of a boy. She was free. Exultantly, she made her way through the woods and roads, heedless of the matted appearance of her hair and face. Her features, once permanently fixed with a pained expression, had lost that look, and now an unreadable expression was achieved, allowing Kipcha to keep still-violent emotions beneath the surface. The menacing voice in her head, the one that stirred up her dark thoughts, had been her constant companion, and Kipcha now accepted the Great Lord as her master, and no longer believed in the Light.

On the second day of her travels, Kipcha came into a clearing, where a neat campfire was built, revealing a plump woman sitting next to the fire, with an equally dark man sitting beside her, watching the woods, and especially her, intently. The woman was tying a bundle of herbs together, and smiled at her from the ground where she sat. Kipcha looked around, noting with interest a pack animal laden down with baskets, most of them with fronds of plants sticking out here and there.

"I thought so," Kipcha thought she heard the woman say, but then the woman stepped forward, her hands open in welcome.

Kipcha looked at her warily, unconsciously thinking, Great Lord, you helped me with my father. Help me now. She felt a sereneness come over her, and smiled at the woman. "I am Kiaralia Sedai," she said. "Come with me now. We go to the Tower, where you can be properly taught."

Kipcha’s eyes trailed to the baskets, and Kiaralia Sedai smiled. "I was gathering herbs, child, for research. They come in handy, sometimes. Come."

Kipcha’s eyes widened. Her? To be Aes Sedai? Barely able to contain her enthusiasm, Kipcha followed the woman to her future.

Career History

  • Novice
  • Accepted (23 August 2020)