Description
'Slivers of moonlight' might best describe her hair, escaping as it is from u
her hooded cloak. She is of middling height for her kind, perhaps a bit
heavier set than the typical high elf--at least that is what her apparel
suggests, trimmed with the fine stitching known by their kind. Her irises are
the color of ocher, and with each breath she takes her fine nostrils
flare.
Beneath her cloak her attire is haphazard, and strapped beneath her belt
could best be described as a white-leather apron, a short affair with
pouches bulging with various ingredients.
Role
Confessions
Added Thu Mar 13 08:38:19 2025 at level 3:
Yes, I was the royal poisoner.
I mean, I was a chef, but I was also the royal taste-tester,
and because it would have been morally bankrupt to consign
a fellow elf to inevitable death, I trained in poisons.
What they taste like, what their effects are, how they are used.
I was told that I would never be asked to use my training,
but one can never trust a royal to keep his word. Even an elf.
Notice the past tense in. Learning to detect poisons is not
a pleasant experience, and despite the onslaught of propaganda
meant to fill my head with beliefs in glorious sacrifice, I was well
aware that it was my poverty and relative unimportance that made me
so conveniently disposable. No anonymous grave for me, though.
I found a few things that had been forgotten and left for me
to gather up, and I hit the road.
With my heart beating hard in my chest, I slipped out of Darsylon
to explore a world that had been denied me, to plunder glory and
secrets from ancient civilizations, and to talk to someone other
than Mr Dalion Darellus, the butler who somehow could stand over
you despite being quite short for an elf.
Now, if only I could find a place where I could put my talents and
motivations to use.
Professions
Added Sun Mar 16 08:16:00 2025 at level 16:
I woke up in the bar to a whisking sound.
One eye creaked open like a rusted portcullis, and
in line of sight was a large paw. The sound was the
light scraping sound as the claws moved across the.
floorboards.
"Was dipping into the sauce last night?"
I pushed myself up to my feet and blew at a piece of straw
that was dangling in front of my face from my hair. It moved
but swung back, so I frowned and blew harder. Trying to regain
my dignity I pushed the hair up away from my face, working my
fingers through like a coarse comb, and I tossed the straw
behind my back.
Without preamble I said, "I heard there might be work for me in
in the kitchens. I stayed here so that I could get an early start."
"Sevenss a lucky number is. Can you follow a few rules?"
After a few more questions, a hot cup of tea, I was given access
to the ovens.
Inspirations
Added Tue Mar 25 17:57:29 2025 at level 37:
Inspirations
"Nelithia, ye got any ideas for an event to follow up the Drillmaster's?"
Of course I did, but I was not going to appear to eager. We youngsters shouldn't
tip off everyone the depth and breadth of our talent and knowledge, otherwise
you'll never get any rest and no other idea will ever measure up. So I waited a
good long thirty seconds, and then I said, "Of course I do! Invite everyone
in to tell a story of a battle of words, wits, or weapons and make it as outrageous
as you can! Don't let the facts get in the way of a good story!"
As a girl might imagine, everyone was tripping over themselves with excitement,
for a good lie is usually so much more interesting than the honest truth. I wrote up
a little poem, put it up on the announcements board, and enjoyed the glowing praise
I received from the other Heralds.
What I did not admit to them was how impressed I was by the Drillmaster's management
of his discussion of the concept of Home. I cannot tolerate the notion of a frost giant
barbarian from outperforming my fellow members of the Heralds.