SNAP! The staccato snap of pudgy, yet strong and agile fingers brought Kactarja's attention into focus. "Starym! Where is your mind today girl?" The owner of those fingers gave the young girl a stern, yet understanding look. Jaardane Molmine Caclamina Du'omacar Lysathen, better known in town as Mother Molmine, and to Kactarja as "mama", was a force to be reckoned with. At first sight she seemed just a rumpled, aging, overweight, and plain woman. After a few moments in her presence, one couldn't help but be affected by her commanding personality and recognize her sharp mind and wit. During her time in Wychross, Molmine had earned the respect, sometimes grudgingly, of everyone in town as a "seer" in all matters of business. Of course, she profited from her expertise. All seeking her advice would typically pay a consultation fee and possibly a slight percentage of the increased profit they experienced. Her prices were steep, though fair... enough so that she would often joke with clients not to share her terms, should other Vos hear them and disown her. And everyone in the area soon learned money spent with Mother Molmine was money well spent. "Now, girl... listen. You'll find a need sometimes in negotiations to relieve your client of something. Or provide them with something, all without their knowing. It's all part of closing the deal. Try again". Kactarja's slender fingers reached unobtrusively towards a belt purse at Molmine's waist. "Yes mama..."

Images and thoughts from the past swirled in her head once more as Kactarja fondly remembered her surprise those many years ago. Expecting to be at odds with the town children during her stay in Wychcross, no one was more astonished than her to find the beginnings of friendship so quickly. Though Rowena was friends with all in town, she and Kactarja seemed to bond immediately. Perhaps it was a case of opposites attracting... or just the fact that Rowena was willing to look past labels and stereotypes to see the real Kactarja. Regardless of the why, it was a companionship that stayed strong through the years and that led to a handful of other friendships. First was Denic, within whom Kactarja had found a kindred spirit. One who could relate to being viewed as an outsider... or an outcast, based on circumstances beyond their control. Later came Thrydwulf (Ox to his friends). Strong and steady... and who's heart was a big as the rest of his muscles. Surprisingly, at least to Kactarja, was the beginning inclusion into her circle of friends of none other then Lord Denic, son of Lord Berthram. Kactarja knew less about Denic (he was emphatic they not use titles when addressing him) that her other friends. While he did have an air of nobility about him, he certainly didn't rub their noses in it. Kactarja felt sorry for him on occasion. As the last child of Lord Berthram, he lived a comfortable life, but stood to inherit next to nothing in terms of land or title. Yet he was burdened with the obligatory "duties" of a noble...

"I believe she's drifting again" The comment tugged Kactarja's attention back to matters at hand. Molmine scowled at her daughter as a figure in the corner of the room chuckled. Lasrin Daran Vorneva Du'omacar Lysathen sat comfortably in a chair, wisps of smoke from his pipe wreathing his head in a halo fashion. The rumors in town were that he was a Vos Bravo, though none really understood what one was. The rumors were mostly true. He had been a Bravo in his younger years, but since settling in town with Molmine and Kactarja his saber had remained mostly on the wall of their home as a showpiece. A well maintained, fully functioning showpiece. While Molmine handled all of the family business, including teaching that knowledge to Kactarja, Daran had basically raised their adoptive daughter. Such was the way with the Vos. He also tended to dote on Kactarja and referred to her as 'sweetling', an affectionate nickname he had coined, most of the time when it was just family. Molmine's scowl turned it's attention to her husband, lessening his smirk by a degree or two. And the lessons continued. "Starym, remember... everything is about closing the deal. And to have a deal the customer needs to want what you offer enough they will give you what you want. There are ways to help your customer realize how much they really _do_ want what you offer. For example..."

The excitement from the group's recent adventure was still fresh in Kactarja's memories. The cave, the exploration, the bear, and the exhilarating fear turned victorious escape. It had quickened her pulse and strengthened her longing to leave Wychcross to see the world. The Vos were a traveling people. Being cooped up in town her whole life wasn't fair, despite assurances from her parents there was a very good, yet unexplained to her thus far, reason why they had settled. She was meant to wander and experience the world. It was in her blood. And it was a topic of conversation that was discussed more and more as the group got together. The time would come, soon, when an opportunity would arise and Kactarja would have to make the decision between loyalty to her family and loyalty to her destiny. It was daunting to know such a crossroads in her life might soon be upon her. But she was ready. She knew she would make the proper decision.

Despite the time her family has spent in Wychcross, Kactarja has been raised true to Vos culture. Faithful to her Vos upbringing, Kactarja feels beholden to no one outside of her Clan. That is, until they have truly earned her trust or betrayed her. If the former, they have earned a friend for life... if the latter, her eternal enmity. Kactarja considers her close friends as much her clan as Clan Lysathen. And, growing up as part of a matriarchal society, she tends to view women as leaders and men as followers.

Her attire is often reserved and practical. While she is familiar with and will wear the customary Vos colors and outfits during clan ceremonies and business dealings, she typically dresses for comfort and function. Recently Kactarja has acquired some leather armor, a Vos dagger and other equipment in preparation for leaving town