[hider=Síobhra]
[h3]Character Description[/h3]
[b]Name:[/b] Síobhra ferch Aíbhinn
[b]Species:[/b] Sylph
[b]Race/Nationality:[/b] Binne Nechtain
[b]Gender:[/b] F
[b]Age:[/b] 36
[b]Languages:[/b] South Sylpharimese, Arventian, Firindorian, & Sidfirian

[b]Appearance:[/b] [hider=appearance][img]https://i.pinimg.com/1200x/99/3b/74/993b747fad15feda3f09cd32ce0d9e6e.jpg[/img][/hider]
[b]Personal Effects[/b]: Síobhra travels light. She carries only the clothes, gambeson, and cloak on her back, two changes of clothes (one being nicer than the other, for occasions such as the feast in Ealdormuda), some needles, thread, a few ribbons and ropes, a hunting knife, a bow and arrows, a dagger, a bowl, a waterskin, and a small collection of provisions and dried medicinal herbs. 
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[h3][b]Background:[/b][/h3]
[b]Role[/b]: White Mage
[b]Backstory[/b]: [hider=Meaning in Minadra]Being private and free people, the South Sylpharim have known their share of misunderstandings across history. One such misunderstanding which emerges from time to time is the rumour among some Firindorian traders that Sylpharim women are an easy lay, free of any risk of paternity, for the simple price of a lie: A lie that one will soon return. For their parts, the good folk of Binn Nechtain warn their children of this behavior, and the more sensible of the Firindorian merchants rebuke such deceit. Alas, interest in the novel and exotic often motivate young souls to act against their better judgement. Síobhra is the product of one such unfortunate union. And though her mother’s community always offered their support, loathe as they were to turn their backs on one of their own—no matter the source—there were still realities which nagged at Síobhra from a young age.

Her heritage was never concealed from her. Síobhra, after all, is a common name for children of such parentage as hers. And her mother was never ashamed to admit that she had been lied to by an elven merchant. There is no shame in trust, in faith in the goodwill of others, and so forth. But whenever young Síobhra laid eyes on the distant Taurethil forest, she could not abide by the advice of her elders to embrace her lot and move forward in life at peace with her origins. Somewhere out in the woods lay someone who had caused her existence and yet contributed nothing. An urge tugged at her—one common to many of Eruherion’s creations—that urge to see justice be done and ensure misdeeds not go unpunished. 

Children do foolish things. They do foolish things such as acting on their vague, nonsensical ideas of adventure in search of justice; foolish things such as flying out east in the dead of night; and foolish things such as heading towards the Taurethil Forest, assured that their elven blood might protect them. 

The search for young Síobhra lasted many days. Her mother and closest kin searched longer still. But no Sylph found her. Indeed, it was perhaps only by grace of her flight that she was found by anyone at all. Upon the southern shore of Lake Calmenen, she was found by some fishermen as they set ashore for the night. Injured as she was, and armed with only a knife and her father’s name, Síobhra was swiftly netted by the elves before she could flee. The elves fed her, tended to her, and the stubborn little Sylph found herself being questioned around the campfire by them in short order. They laughed heartily as they coaxed out the young girl’s plan in broken Arventian and Sylpharimese, and spent some significant part of the evening needling her over every detail. So amused were they that they insisted she stay, taught her to gut and prepare fish with them, and then brought her to market in Nimrithil. And when she arrived, what did young Síobhra do but flit off once again, in pursuit of her father. The fishermen saw no great reason to pursue, for she had neither made off with their wares nor been much more than a matter of some amusement, but did see fit to alert the market’s guards at their leisure. Though she was scarcely a priority, a mere child as she was, her hunt was eventually thwarted by the arrow of a falconer who’d grown increasingly frustrated at her periodic distraction of his birds. 

Having endured a rough landing resulting in a number of broken bones, Síobhra found herself neither in the jailhouse nor in an orphanage, but confined to a medical bed. Though she had been exposed to the predominant arts of her people prior, it was here where Síobhra was first confronted in significant measure with the possibilities presented by magic. With little else to do while her bones set and healed day by day, she watched the care others received with growing interest. Even when it hurt, she could not help but to watch in fascination each time hands were laid on her own wounds. By the time she was released, she found herself wanting not to return to her search, but to heal. It is then, according to Síobhra, that she first felt the notion that it was perhaps a sign of Eruherion’s very will that she had found her way there, and that she had been called to pass on the mercy of healing to others. Limited as her Firindorian then was, her attempts to request work as an apprentice fell upon deaf ears at the infirmary. But a worker on wings—one who could be taught more than any mere bird—was not without its appeal, so felt her future mentors at the infirmary.

Síobhra’s term of service began simply, with a basket and simple phrases to recite. She collected alms for the neighborhood’s infirmary faithfully, learning the slightest more each day. In time, her tasks grew. Whether it was sweeping and scrubbing or running errands, Síobhra did as she was told, keenly anticipating each opportunity to observe and listen when the healers performed their work. Eventually, she was at last granted the chance to not only learn by seeing, but learn by doing as well. Síobhra can still recall her first successful cast of a healing spell in vivid detail, and cherishes it to this day. And when she first started to learn by doing, there was no doubt left in her mind that it felt most right and good to her that she practice as a healer. The only question left, in her mind, was what sort of healer she was called to be.

The answer to her next question eluded her for many years. By the time she was permitted to perform healing spells without supervision, she had grown restless. To her frustration, the stretches between healings became suffocating. Though she knew she had more to learn, she could not help but look elsewhere for a different angle. And a different angle she found in the hands of adventurers. Harpy raids had become a cause for concern along the western shore of Lake Calmenen, and Síobhra found her future as a healer for the force rallied to disperse the raiders, familiar as she was presumed to be with the foothills of her homeland. In the foothills of the Ambarones, Síobhra was at once invigorated and shaken. Even as the work she was brought to do felt fulfilling, she could not help but to gaze longingly at the mountains she had once left. She had many times before considered attempting to return, yet each time, she found reason to stay away. She wrestled with the urge for some time, until at last the work was done, and the harpies were not only dispersed, but slain outright. The sight of those who were once like her, twisted into horrors by their own indulgence, unsettled her to no end. She wrestled with many questions in the aftermath, and found no satisfaction in any conclusion she had reached. Looking back to her old home, she could resist no longer. She bid her second life a hasty farewell and set off without waiting for good sense to get the better of her. 

Her return home was met with the tears and joy all around, for none had expected her to even have lived. For a short time, Síobhra too could rejoice in reunion and reconnection. Yet, in short order, she became restless again. She could not settle, and found even healing unable to bring her peace. It was not enough. Routine injuries and ailments, she had seen and treated for years. She often recalled her excursion against the harpies, puzzling over what aspect of it truly brought her the sense she sought. It was not until she again volunteered to accompany a band set on achieving similar ends that Síobhra was certain. Her heart was not for mundane healing. She craved to heal warriors, to support the endless line of duty against the Fallen. In short order, Síobhra once again hastily abandoned her home, this time in search of a different sort of justice. Ever since, she has drifted along the periphery of Morgador, scouting out and accompanying an endless procession of adventurers and knights in their efforts to secure the lands of the Graced against the Fallen.[/hider]
[b]Character Intro[/b]: [hider=Heeding the Call]Were it not for the King’s call to adventure, Síobhra could scarcely imagine a reason to visit Ealdormuda. The Kingdom of Eaham was, as far as she could tell, a vast expanse of placid farmland. Beyond the hinterland, it seemed to her that the greatest crises of the day in the countryside were incidental interruptions to metal trades and the precise timing of the harvest. From her vantage in the skies, she had observed no fallen, no rallies to battle against the Fallen, and more farming monks than she cared to count. Perhaps it was a reflection of Nalmarin; perhaps it was just a lucky geography—but either way, there was little to do, and to spend the time in to absorb the idyllic landscape in full would be a frivolous indulgence. But putting it all into perspective, it made sense that Eaham would need to summon adventurers from elsewhere. It was guarded on its flanks by hardier folk and rugged mountains. Its grounds were fertile. In short, it was a breeding ground for humble monks and well-fed peasants; not brave souls. Who could blame them? With all of this surrounding them, Brethnor seemed impossibly distant. 

It was not without its problems, of course. But she hadn’t yet seen a misdeed that couldn’t be stopped by tripping the perpetrator. Auspicious though it was that there were safe havens such as these, the fact that their abundance did not then seem to yield willing bodies for adventure in similar abundance irked her. The Eahamingas were formidable folk in stature, with strength that could be leveraged to great effect. They were well-fed, well-supplied, and it seemed their garrisons were well-armed. And yet, what did they show for it? What a shame it was. She could only hope, as she headed to Ealdormuda, that the band which assembled there would be more than mere treasure hunters, and would not shirk from clearing the place of Fallen as they explored.
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