Kalnya is a wolf hybrid, a Narroka, in a world setting I have been working on.
Narroka are slightly stronger then the average human, but it does help that the weapon she carries is rather magical.

Artwork is by Nil Sunna
Character is mine

Below is her backstory, and I hope you enjoy.

Born in a small border village on the far outskirts of the walled city of Introspection in the northern borders of the Gaundlon Empire in the Narveulht province, ruled over by the aggressive reddish half dragon lords who governed with an iron fist and claw. Sadly, the northern mountainous areas were notorious for the aggressive fauna that lived there, and a young Kalnya was lost from her parents and her clan. If left to nature, she would have led a short existence. However, fate intervened on her behalf as a band of hunters from a smaller vassal clan of humans came across her on a road, where wreckage of a small caravan lay scattered off near the trees. A young lord picked her up and gave her the name Kalnya, and figured perhaps the gods had left her here for him to find. Seeking guidance, he entrusted her to a monastery before reporting his findings to his grand lord in the Narveulht clan. This, would lead to her fate later in life.

Growing up, young Kalnya was taught many a thing in the ways of the world, learning how to read in write, as well as how to channel one's energy to maintain balance in spirit and body. She rather excelled in the martial training, being able to beat a student 3 years her elder, who happened to be a young red half dragon. Unfortunately, this young male was not one to let slights go, and would harbor resentment for her into his teenage years.

When not learning about the world at large and the dangers it had, as she was female, she was instructed in the ways of being a courtesan when she was of appropriate age to do so. She learned how one could be charming, even while being straight forward, as well as ways to draw someone's interest with but a look and a turn of her body. Conflicting as the teachings in her life was, she was still rather confident due to living in such a secluded part of the Narveulht Province. Tragedy would strike again once she turned sixteen.

Almost as if preordained, on the eve of her birthday, a small procession headed towards the monastery, lead by a rather cocky, yet brilliant young noble who fancied himself a taste of revenge while satisfying his claim for power. Sadly, this power was aimed to be over Kalnya. With writ scroll in hand on the back of his horse, he claimed Kalnya, that as a non person civilian living in his lands, that he would claim her as a concubine and bodyguard, based on the merit of her skills and training. Many gathered there among the monks were puzzled, yet all bowed to his whim... except for Kalnya. It took the young lord's retinue to restrain her, before clasping a finely crafted collar around her neck. High sorcery wove around in the fabric as the item was a strong artifact, one of several known as “Vishner's Grand Binding Shackle”. Such a curse bound the wearer to be unable to ever remove the item of their own volition, and was forced into the suggestions of their owner. Only the person who bound them could release the item from them with a key word. It is a word which Kalnya would never hear.

The next two years were abusive as the young lord led her around as a trophy of lies and lust, claiming he tamed such a luxurious creature in the wilds outside the Empire, or slaying a great wyvern to woo her. She was forced to be silent and subservient, her once jubilant voice that sang to the heavens now forced into a whisper. She was tormented, yet still unbroken.

Change came on an unsuspecting rainy evening. After a rather heavy amount of drinking a rather potent amount of alcohol, the young lord decided to show his guests the ancestral trophy room. Decorated within its confines were various polished skulls and horns from hunts long since passed, and even a rare weapon from a beast not from this world. The large club supposedly took three men to take from the hand of the fallen monster that the great ancestor slew, and a few more men to create the altar for it. No man was ever able to lift it, let alone wield it. In a drunken stupor, the foolish young lord goaded Kalnya about how great the shaft of the weapon was, comparing it to himself, and that her only great joy in life would be polishing such a tool. However, the young lord was not wary of what was happening, as he had gone lax in his commands on her. In a fit or rage, she managed to grab the handle of the studded club and with one swing and a fit of fury, smashed the young lord into an utter pulp and into the floorboards! Turning to face those there, she pushed through the throng gathered and ran, having to only fling a guard or two away with but a shift of the massive weapon. Deep into the forests she ran, her emotions blocking her mind as all she wanted to do was leave that festering place of hate in her tracks, yet some instinctive part of her knew she could never return to the monastery, her former enjoyable way of life.

How long did she run for? A day? Several? Time as a concept just seemed to blur together. That was until she found herself in a warm bed. A simple sun orb illuminated the room with stairs heading up to a square hatch, and nearby sat a black and gray Verrayn, his ice blue eyes gazing back to hers with a bit of a smile. “Ah, welcome to the land of the living my dear. My crew and I couldn't let someone as beautiful as yourself rest face first in the mud. We'll be heading to a spire port soon. Perhaps with some warm food in your belly and a nice bath, we can work on introductions after.” He smiled from that long muzzle, before standing up and offering a hand. “ I am Malagrim, and you are safe here.”