[hider=Naivara Gray]
[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=mediumseagreen]Naivara Gray[/color][/i][/b][/h1][/center]
[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/PwfZZMj.jpg[/img]
[url=https://i.imgur.com/Egn33PW.jpg]Full Size Image[/url][/center]
[center][b][color=mediumseagreen][h3]Wood Elf, Druid (Circle of the Moon), Level 3[/h3][/color][/b][/center][center]━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━[/center]
[center][color=mediumseagreen][b]STR:[/b][/color] 10 (+0) [color=mediumseagreen][b]DEX:[/b][/color] 16 (+3) [color=mediumseagreen][b]CON:[/b][/color] 14 (+2) [color=mediumseagreen][b]INT:[/b][/color] 12 (+1) [color=mediumseagreen][b]WIS:[/b][/color] 19 (+4) [color=mediumseagreen][b]CHA:[/b][/color] 10 (+0)[/center]
[center][color=mediumseagreen][b]HP MAX:[/b][/color] 24	[color=mediumseagreen][b]Armor Class:[/b][/color] 16	[color=mediumseagreen][b]Movement:[/b][/color] 35 ft	[color=mediumseagreen][b]Spell DC:[/b][/color] 14[/center]
[center][color=mediumseagreen][b]Alignment:[/b][/color] NG	[color=mediumseagreen][b]Defenses:[/b][/color] (A) Charmed, (I) Sleep [/center][hr][hr]
[center][url=https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2542669][b]Full Character Sheet[/b][/url][/center]

[hider=Description]
Although tall for a wood elf, Naivara is merely middling in height when compared to the average member of the other humanoid races. She has the lithe, graceful build that the elves are famed for, and in general a casual observer would say that she puts the wood elf in wood elf. Oddly for a druid, Naivara moves comfortably in the bustling city as she does in the heart of the deep wilderness. There is an easiness to all of her movements, a softness to her walk, and something wild in the way she strides. Perhaps as a result of her time away from other humanoids, Naivara has some odd habits. She sees little purpose in personal space and often stands far too close to people when talking. Most unfortunately if one cares about good manners, she has a habit of touching others without warning or smelling the air around a person, in the manner of a beast, as if she is trying to suss out some hidden information about a stranger.

A woodland creature, Naivara has hazel eyes, sharp eyes like those of a predatory animal that shine with an uneasy wildness. Her brown hair reaches just past her shoulders and Naivara keeps it perpetually tied into a tight pony tail. Naivara makes a habit of decorating her hair with small branches, leaves, and brambles she finds in her travels. She has copperish skin with faint tones of green in the right light. A lifetime spent in the wilderness is no easy task, even for a druid, and Naivara bears the marks of a life spent adventuring far from civilization. Her skin is a tapestry of small to moderately sized scars, all faded with time, and the warm colors of her skin make it clear that she spends most of her time outside.

She dresses as one would expect a druid of the forest, pragmatically and with the chief concern being an ability to quickly vanish into the forest. She wears a well-worn pair of leather boots, that she has resoled more times than she would be willing to count. She has a pair of thick wool breeches, dotted with patches and stitches where she has had to repair them. Over her waist she has a sturdy leather belt capable of holding all that she needs to be on hand. Her shirt is a muted gray, once several measures to long, time has worn it down, and the cut down sleeves now perfectly suit the druid. Often, but not always, Naivara will wear a simple suit of leather armor over her clothes, particularly when she is traveling in dangerous territory. To provide protection from the weather, Naivara tosses an ample cloak with a hood onto her shoulders, once a beautiful shade of midnight, the cloak now appears to be dyed a quietly dying and tattered gray.

Slung onto Naivara's belt with a strip of leather is a sturdy club, wrought in gnarled oak that looks to have seen quite some usage and far better days. A close inspection of the club will reveal a surprisingly intricate collection of wood carvings. Strapped to the small of her back, Naivara also carries a handcrafted stone knife, her druidic focus, with an oaken handle, that is adorned with ritual carvings depicting a sacred full moon hunt. An insightful observer might note that the carving on her weapon and druidic focus were clearly the work of the same artist.
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[hider=Personality]
Naivara is a strange creature, a constant traveler, a wandering hermit, and steadfast druid, driven by a curiosity to see the world, but shaped by the wilderness that has enveloped her soul.

A young elf and developing druid, she struggles with a desire to change the world for the better, while also protecting the natural world and maintaining the balance. Naivara earnestly believes that change is necessary, that those in danger should always be aided, and that passivity is never the answer to the troubles of the world. However, as a druid she feels bound to protect nature, to defend the forests, and to ensure that the animals thrive. Her goals are thus often conflicted and she struggles against dark thoughts and the words of some of her fellow druids that argue for more drastic actions to protect the balance that is necessary for nature to thrive. At her core, Naivara is a problem solver, she is no passive druid willing to watch from the sidelines, she acts, she acts with vigorously, and then she contemplates the matter. Like a beast of the wilderness, she has come to rely on her instincts, and she trusts them impeccably.

Driven to seek out her own isolation from others, Naivara bears all the hallmarks of a life spent in solitude. She is friendly enough, kind, and even interested in other people, but there is something unpracticed in the way she talks, the way she smiles, and the way she acts. Her manners are strange, her habits are odd, and sometimes she seems to be acting more like talking animal than an elf. Sarcasm remains a constant difficulty for her and even jokes can sometimes leave the young elf confused, which is not to say she doesn't try, but her attempts at sarcasm can generously be described as interesting. Buried beneath long years are the vestiges of urban life, a patchy accent, and faint recollections of a different life.
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[hider=Backstory]
Naivara is no regal elven princess born to royal parents, she is no sophisticated urban dwelling elf raised to be the scion of house of wealthy merchants, and she is no happy faced elven beauty brought into a pleasurable life of artistic pursuits. Her parents were not nice. Her parents were not wise. Her parents were not remarkable, interesting people. In truth, Naivara remembers nothing of her parents. No faces, no amusing habits, no kind gestures, and not even their names. Her name was the gift of passing merchant, an aged elf unwilling to let another elf wander the world unnamed. She has no elven surname, no ties to an ancient, storied house, and instead she calls herself Gray after the cloak she is fond of wearing.

Naivara's first memories are of the cold, merciless streets of a bustling city. She recalls only hunger and cold. She remembers few kindnesses. Her friends were other children. Other beggars. Other lost souls. The unwanted. The outcasts. The abused and the forgotten. She watched her friends steal. She watched her friends get hurt. She watched her friends get thrown into dark jails cells. She shared their struggles. She did what she had to in order to survive. She tries not to remember. She tries to forget the friends that died, the friends that died alone in a gutter, still young, and still lost.

Certain that her own doom was upon her, Naivara eventually escaped the city. Pursued by a contingent of the city guard, she ran thoughtlessly into the wilderness. Away, far away, from the city she hated, and way from the people she despised. Reaching the deepest parts of the wilderness, Naivara found herself lost, truly lost, hopelessly lost in the way that only a the uninitiated and unprepared can lose themselves in an endless forest. Starving she grew weaker, dying slowly with each passing day. Collapsing from exhaustion, she found herself staring up at a strange fur covered man adorned with leaves and a diminutive pixy. Saving her, offering her food, water, and shelter, the strange fur covered man spoke little, but offered only a simple name, Brown Fur. The pixy spoke tirelessly, calling itself only the Storyteller, filling in any silence with long stories about the Seelie and Unseelie courts and their ceaseless conflicts over the millennia.  

When Naivara had recovered, the strange man, Brown Fur, brought her to a stranger meeting, full of stranger people still. Surrounded by the ancient trees, she found herself in the very heart of the forest attending a meeting of druids belonging to the Circle of the Moon. With a soft smile, Brown Fur offered her a place, if she wanted it, a chance to learn, a chance to grow as part of a nature, and a chance to live, truly live. It was the first time in her life that she had a teacher, a mentor, and a parent even.

Seasons passed as Naivara learned from the druids of the Circle of the Moon. Brown Fur taught her how to survive in the wilderness. Brown Fur taught her the ways of the animals of the forest. Brown Fur taught her to understand the plants that grew across the lands. She learned from the other druids, when their paths crossed. She learned the rituals of the Circle of the Moon. She learned the hidden language the druids used to communicate. She found solace in the forest. She found purpose in the wilderness. And slowly, slowly the scars of her past began to fade, began to sink deeper within her, where they no longer cut at the strings of her heart. 

When Brown Fur said she was ready, Naivara was initiated into the many mysteries of the wild order as a druid of the Circle of the Moon. Her task was as obvious as it was necessary, to guard the wilds, to protect the creatures of the wilderness, to defend the plants, and to maintain the balance. Parting ways with Brown Fur, Naivara ventured out on her own. She found her own forest. She found her own piece of the wilderness to protect. 

In time, she felt a growing wanderlust, a desire to see more, to do more, and to become more. Driven by her own instincts and whispers of her heart, she began to travel, never content to stay in one place for too long. Stories of a strange hermit, a wood elf shrouded in gray, sometimes followed in her wake. A charitable entity, if a strange one, the gray cloaked figure was said to aid those in need, particularly those lost in the wilderness.

In her travels, Naivara encountered many strangers. Some kind, some not so kind, and some full of malice. She made friends, slowly at first, but then with some regularity. Time spent with others rekindled her enjoyment in some aspects of civilization. Months spent in the wilderness were sweetened by a friendly conversation with a forester. Weeks spend trudging in the cold were warmed by watching a master painter at work. And food was much improved by addition of the exotic spices that could be found in the cities.

Naivara had simply been passing through another unremarkable village, following the compulsions of her own being, as she was handed a letter from by an old friend. A grizzled ranger, now retired, she had saved the man from a band of marauding trolls some winter before. He said it was important. He asked her to read the letter. To think about it. 

A man she had never heard of, much less met, Gregory Arbalest, purported Sheriff of Avonshire, requested her help. He knew her name, he knew who she was, strange the druid thought, but not uncommon. She was no guttersnipe hiding in the darkness. The mention of goblins filled her heart with a heavy weight. She had encountered goblins before, they were evil, unnatural creatures, prone to despoiling nature. She did not like them. She would act. She would help. She had to. She could not ignore an earnest call for help.
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[hider=Bestiary]
N/A
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[hider=Extras]
[color=mediumseagreen]Likes[/color]
[list]
[*] Nature
[*] Animals 
[*] Exploring
[*] Stories
[*] Art [/list]

[color=mediumseagreen]Dislikes[/color]
[list]
[*] Long Dresses and overly fancy clothing
[*] Needless formalities and pained ceremony
[*] Having to stay still or in one place for too long
[*] Greed [/list]

[color=mediumseagreen]Hobbies[/color]
[list]
[*] Traveling
[*] Studying plants and fauna 
[*] Drawing (often plants and fauna)
[*] Carving (wood and stone)
[*] Drinking tea  [/list]

[hider=Quotes]
[color=mediumseagreen]

"The city is a wilderness in it's own way."

"The forest speaks, you just have to listen."

"I like this...cinnamon, it is good, very good, perhaps we can buy more of these buns? For the long journey ahead of us."

"Change is necessary, change is inevitable, and change is as much of a part of the natural world as stagnation."

"Of course I will help."

"You are loud, much too loud for the forest, I could hear each step you took."[/color]
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Faceclaim: none other than the image included in my character sheet.

[color=mediumseagreen]Miscellaneous, perhaps interesting tidbits:[/color]

Naivara has terrible table manners, being mostly used to eating alone in the woods. She doesn't quite understand personal space, thinks hugs are perfectly reasonable at all times, and doesn't find it weird to smell someone's person. Fortunately, she has learned that licking the faces of any traveling companions is generally frowned upon.

Naivara is currently engaged in a longstanding project to understand sarcasm and the finer points of modern humor. This is going badly, very badly, and Naivara sometimes misunderstands the most obvious jests or sarcastic comments as earnest statements.

Naivara greatly enjoys artistic things. She loves to paint and draw, can sing surprisingly well for one so shy about drawing attention, and is generally mollified by any great display of artistic or musical talent.
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As a druid Naivara has quite a lot of utility in terms of supporting the party, however, particularly as a Circle of the Moon druid, she has the ability to function as a frontline fighter for the more squishy members of the party.
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