alt text

    ~Place of Birth: Tashlutan Basin, Tashalar
    [Grew up in the capital, Tashluta: The City of Slithering Vines.]

    ~Age: 30's
    [Shows mostly on her hands and in her gaze.]

    ~Height: 5' 9"
    [-1'' from haunching over all the time.]

    ~Weight: 130-150 lbs
    [This woman follows no strict food discipline or exercise habits besides stretching. Sports slightly frumpy belly and muffin tops over her legwear.]

    ~Skin: Olive in tone with sparsely speckled beauty marks across her body.
    [Considerably lighter due to lack of regular sun exposure in the overcast, shady region of Narfell]

    ~Face: Soft Oval Heart Shape
    [Lucy Lawless-esque]

    ~Eyes: Ruby Red. Almond Shaped. Bushy eyebrows if left untamed. Long eye lashes.
    [Original Eye Colour: Dark Brown. A mark from Beshaba, the removal of a geas resulted in this strange affliction slowly over time till her irises were red like fresh blood.]

    ~Hair: Sandy Brunette
    [Business in back, party on the sides, innocent in the front. Regularly braids her pixie locks in a rope/twist style.]

    ~Voice: Rarely sultry or raspy. Her volume control is erratic. The pitch and cadence bounds between excited young teacher and angsty delinquent.
    [Her laughter and screams are enthusiastic, shrill, piercing and distinct even if in a crowd.]

    ~Magical Nascence: Doubt and Loneliness
    [A late bloomer as far as sorceresses are concerned, her powers awakened in a castle gaol during a bout of insanity. The moment she turned from repudiation to acceptance and peace in her tribulation, her inner inspiration learned to grapple The Weave. Beshaba had left her mark on the girl once known as Rosie in her encroaching final hours. Consequentially resulting in her envisaging a completely made up reality to cope in a turn of contradiction of her recognition.]

    ~Distinguishing Marks: A small mole under the corner of her smile on the right side. Hundreds of scars across her body from various self afflictions except her neck, face, and places hard to reach like between the shoulder blades.
    [The scars across her body are of various age and nature. Layered on top of each other over the last 10'sh years. Mostly ritualistic slashes, she has brandings on her hands and feet as well as the subtle scars from prolonged exposure to shackles. Words, letters, numbers, shapes, nonsense sigils and "natural" looking scars from adventuring adorn her in an almost artistic fashion because they are so numerous.]

    ~Demeanor: Unblinking attention and absorption of her environment regardless of capabilities. Occasionally seemingly irrational and unabashedly curious. Perfectly comfortable enjoying others company or entertaining herself under normal circumstances. Easily staggered or frightened by larger things and sudden sudden noises. Entranced by beauty, power, and conflict. Obsessive, manic, impulsive and prone to tunnel vision. Capable of restraint yet plagued by compulsions. Silent and staring off at nothing in times of inner conflict or deep thought.
    [Its not uncommon for her to be squinting something into focus or turning her head to hear a distance away. A result from a couple years in a pitch black dungeon, and the blinding of her first morning light after her escape.]