Race: Hamadryad, Oak.
Class: Artificer, Battlesmith.
Age: 68
Height: 5’10", 6’10" including “antlers.”
Build: Lean
Hair: Varies
Eyes: Black
Weapon: Crossbow


She never wanted to fight.

In fact, she never wanted anything to do with the war, the military, or anything of that nature. She learned how to use her healing skills and rituals for the benefit of war through familial obligation. Her family was aided by those fighting, so it was honourable to help them in return.

She hates that concept of ‘honour’ and never understood the need to repay a kind deed with death. In staunch opposition to her obligation, she refused to fully learn Common and instead kept her native tongue through and through.

She finds herself, now, in a rag-tag company half comprised of people she respects, and half with people she despises. They care not for things outside money and death, and so blatantly disrespect the beauty of life and the sagacity of nature; these people disgust and befuddle her, but still she walks with them, for it is her obligation.

As the seasons change, so does her appearance. As it stands, Autumn has come to its full fruition, the trees brilliant shades of fire, leaves dancing as they fall from their branches. The branches growing atop her head are nearly bare, their leaves having withered and dropped. Her hair seems ablaze and flows freely about with the slightest inclination of wind.


Lux Tenebrae MaiaLibre