Player: Alice
Species: Aasimar
Class: Warlock (Great Old One)
Background: Hermit
Alignment: Neutral Good (leaning toward something uncertain)
“If I care for this place… if I listen closely… I think it listens back.”
Appearance
From Alice’s character sheet art: a young woman with pale silver-grey skin traced with fine white rune-like markings on her arms, neck and face, amber eyes and a light freckling. Long, deep-red hair worn loose with many small braids threaded with gold beads. A sleeveless ochre dress over brown trousers, its split front panels edged in a woven red-and-gold border; a sun-buckled belt hung with leather pouches, a dagger on her right hip, and tall buckled brown boots with a second blade sheathed at the calf.
Origins
Elunia was born of a miracle — or so she was told.
For years, her parents longed for a child, their prayers unanswered. Then, one night beneath a silver-lit sky, a radiant being descended from Lunia, the first layer of Mount Celestia. It offered a blessing… and from that blessing, Elunia was conceived. Her parents never questioned it. To them, it was divine grace made flesh.
They raised her in isolation, deep within the forest, far from prying eyes. They knew what she was — Aasimar — and feared a world that might not see her as holy, but as something to be feared, studied, or hunted. So Elunia grew up knowing only kindness, faith, and the quiet rhythms of nature. The world beyond the trees was a story, nothing more.
When her parents passed, the silence became unbearable. Alone for the first time, Elunia wandered farther than she ever had before… and found it.
A temple.
Ancient. Forgotten. Waiting.
Its architecture felt sacred to her untrained eyes — weathered statues, quiet halls, symbols she did not understand but felt. Believing it to be a place of divine worship, she devoted herself to its care. She cleaned its halls, whispered prayers to whatever god might still listen, and slowly began to feel something answer back.
Warmth. Guidance. Purpose.
A voice, not in words — but in certainty.
Elunia believes she has been chosen. That she is becoming something like a cleric, touched by the divine once more.
She does not know the truth.
The temple is not holy.
The presence that watches her, that listens, that answers…
…is something ancient, vast, and unknowable.
And it has already accepted her devotion as a pact.
The Fallen Star
Session 1: The Baronet’s Commission
Elunia offered a struggling old woman a vial of her back-alley potions. Lucia stopped her, and Elunia insisted they had once saved the party’s lives when given to a god. She cut the tower stair short by stepping through her cape’s brimstone door. At the foot of the stair her invisible imp stole the orc priest’s holy medallion. In the Baronet’s study, the Tome of Abyssal Magic resolved into words she could read, at the price of a headache. The Baronet noticed: “Good to know. Interesting.” She also talked him into adding a piece from his collection for each of them to the payment. Cornered in the alley, she claimed the stolen medallion as proof that she was one of Gruumsh’s faithful, then called on her god. A sphere of whispering darkness full of tentacles took the attackers, and she threw the orc’s own medallion back at him: “See how well your god serves you.” Her imp is now following the goblin who sold them out.
Session 2: Three to the Dawn
Before leaving the alley Elunia took back the medallion of Gruumsh: spoils of war. Nox came back empty-handed, having lost the goblin boy in the market crowd. At the Ouroboros airfield she argued that since everyone aboard was alive, they were all technically livestock, so the camels might as well come too. The pilots agreed, provided she did the shovelling. In Bitter End she lent Nox her bag of holding so that he could follow Varys into the warehouse invisibly and hand him a crowbar, then watched the drugged sleepers through the imp’s eyes and threw an illusion of what she saw out to Korath. In the valley she kept the party’s count of food and water, picked the campsites, and wondered whether she could read the minds of the hooded procession, which she and Korath had noticed left no tracks. The hail wore her down. Among the lost things scattered across the sand she picked up an old pocket watch and kept it.
Attendance Log
- Session 1 Recap - The Baronet’s Commission 2026-09-30
- Session 2 Recap - Three to the Dawn 2026-10-07