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Height: 5’ 10”
Initial Alignment: Lawful Neutral
Habits/Hobbies: Writing and learning about nature
Languages: Common, Celestial, Draconic
Weapon of Choice: Spells
TRAITS, IDEALS, BONDS, AND FLAWS
- I sleep with my back to a wall or tree, with everything I own wrapped in a bundle in my arm
- I’m convinced that people are always trying to steal my secrets
- I feel far more comfortable around animals than people.
- My favor, once lost, is lost forever.
- I connect everything that happens to me to a grand cosmic plan.
- When I set my mind to something, I follow through no matter what gets in my way.
- I love a good insult, even one directed at me.
- I am incredibly slow to trust. Those who seem the fairest often have the most to hide.
- People. I help people who help me-that’s what keeps us alive.
- Fairness. No one should get preferential treatment before the law, and no one is above the law
- Sincerity. There’s no good pretending to be something I’m not.
- Logic. Emotions must not cloud our logical thinking
- Knowledge. The path to power and self-improvement is through knowledge.
- I’m still seeking the enlightenment I pursued in my seclusion, and it still eludes me
- Those who fight beside me are those worth dying for.
- I will bring terrible wrath down on the evildoers who destroyed my homeland.
- I am suspicious of strangers and suspect the worst of them.
- I harbor dark bloodthirsty thoughts that my isolation failed to quell
- People who don’t take care of themselves get what they deserve.
She sat in the corner guarded by her mother’s shadow, watching her siblings play in the sun. Freya never went further than 3 steps from the main door. “Nothing good lays out there young one. Stay by me,” her mother would say, her golden-eyes shining with the warning. Freya was the middle of 5, but her younger brothers had outgrown by age 11.
There was no doubting that this family had been kissed by the gods. Their golden eyes rivaled the shine of the sun but only Freya had been cursed with silver skin and so she was always wrapped in over-sized robes and hooded. They lived in the Great Vale, her family found close to the Dragonsword Mountains to safe guard their littlest. Not many ventured their way. They dreaded the day that Freya’s existence would get out and how their less than civilized neighbors might take it.
Freya grew up sheltered, but grew weary of existing in merely a shadow. On her 18th summer night she stole away. She felt at peace with the forest, and the creatures that didn’t need words to understand her. Like the energy that flowed within her reached a new balance. She let her hood fall off, she wanted the moonlight to dance off her skin.
She was lost in the moment, where for once she felt normal. Her dreamlike state was disturbed by the voice which is the only thing clear in her mind of that night from that moment on. “DEMON!” When she came to she was holding the charred body of her mother. Her home burned to the ground, it looked like the scenes of battle that her father described.
Scared she ran into mountains, not knowing where else to go. Days she ran without stopping, finally exhaustion overtook her.
The next two years she lived with a priest who had left his clergy in Mulhorand, he had been appalled at the expectations on the common people. They lived mostly in silence among the monsters. When he spoke, he spoke with wisdom always looking to teach. His death came at the hands of time, and Freya left… only the priest’s journal in hand. She began her travels with nothing, looking for her place, running away from the anger that grew within her…