A courier since he was a lad, Karsa was making the routine trip from Sho-Battai to Heft yet again, delivering a letter to a noblewoman there--another in a lengthy affair. Knowing better than to pry, he couldn't be certain--but why else did he only arrive when her husband was travelling?
Whether by a cruel stroke of Fate's brush or the indifferent roll of Luck's die, this delivery was to be his last. As he trotted across the dunes to the unfaithful wife, he noted a samurai party coming the other way. It wasn't until he was within earshot that he saw they were escorting a nobleman, and only after a bolt flew past his ear that he realized it was the cuckold.
Turning tail and running for his life, Karsa didn't dare look back until he had made it out of the Great Desert and into Heng. Seeing no pursuers, he finally collapsed in the shade of a boulder, and let loose his frustration in a tearful cry. Regardless of how misplaced the nobleman's anger was, there was no way Karsa could return home anytime soon. He sulked for hours, and it was evening before he truly considered his options. The sun had begun to set when Karsa finally started south to find the slave quarry. As soon as he did, he found himself too exhausted to walk more than a mile before finding a place to sleep, in the cover of a rocky outcropping.
He awoke feeling even more tired from the misery of sleeping without a hide beneath him or blanket to cover him. Seeing no alternative though, he trudged south. This time, it was either Fate's mercy or the flip side of Luck's coin--he witnessed a band of half-dead wastrels fling themselves upon a caravan, not a league from the quarry. Pilfering a sword from their dying leader, he scooped up a Scorchlander who looked like she might live, and delivered her to the slavers. Walking out of the building, he found himself with newfound hope--a sword and a pocket full of cats was a fine start for any would-be kenshi brave and smart enough.