| Name: | Serenya Vale |
| Race: | Human |
| Date of Birth: | 16th of Tarsakh, 1339 DR, Year of the Weeping Moon (22 as of current date, 1361 DR) |
| Height: | 5'2" (157cm) |
| Weight: | 102 lbs (46kg) |
| Eyes: | Dark Brown |
| Hair: | Dark Brown |
| Languages: | Common, Sylvan, Illuskan, Cormanthan, Alzhedo |
| Classes: | Warlock 17 /Feyseeker 9 /Shadow Dancer 4 |
| Weapon of Choice: | Eldritch Magic |
| Deity/Patron: | Queen of Air and Darkness |
| Initial Alignment: | Chaotic Evil |
| Mother: | Marenna Vale |
| Father: | Unknown Wanderer (Syltharion Umbravale) |
| Siblings: | None (only Child) |
Serenya is a short, thin woman with messy, dark brown, shoulder length hair that falls in rarely brushed, messy tangles, as if she prefers the wild, windswept look. Stray locks often obscure her face, though she rarely bothers to tuck them away. Her skin is warmly tanned with freckles dusted across her upper cheeks and bridge of her nose. Her dark brown, nearly black eyes glitter with sly intelligence and an unsettling mirth when paired with her wide, playful, and mischievous grin. She wears layers of dark, travel worn clothing decorated with colorful beads, ribbons, bracelets and other trinkets picked up from her travels.
Personality Profile:
She is playful to the point of sadism and finds joy in the fear and discomfort of others. Speaks in a lighthearted, monotonous, rhythmical tone even when saying something terrible. Loves to play games, make and solve riddles, and play tricks, but her fun always comes at someone else's expense. She is easily bored when there is nothing going on.
General Health:
She appears in good health if a bit thin. Her thin frame and short stature might tell of some childhood malnutrition, though if so it isn't prominent enough to say for certain that it isn't a passed down trait.
Profession:
Toy maker, she sews together dolls for children or makes small wooden figures of animals or more abstract shapes that come into her mind, though as of late those have all taken a darker and more eerie feel to them.
Habits/Hobbies:
At times, she will break into rhymes in her speech. She enjoys telling riddles, sometimes with no explanation of the answer, and at times the riddles have no answer. She likes to watch someone squirm for the answer, leaving them confused and frustrated. She often plays with coins and dice and enjoys games of chance. She collects trinkets and tokens from people she has "pranked", taking a particular fascination with broken or odd children's toys that might seem off or wrong in their construction.
Background:
Mother: Marenna Vale
Marenna Vale spent her nights drinking and keeping the company of passing travelers at the Bowshot Inn, leaving Serenya to fend for herself. What time she did spend with her daughter was rarely if ever pleasant, often showing disdain for Serenya and reminding her she was a mistake, an accident left behind when a nameless traveler passed through Bowshot, shared a fleeting night, then vanished without a word.
Serenya Vale was born in a hamlet known as Bowshot, a small village with a single inn on the northern Trade Way, whose namesake comes from its position just a bow shot away from the Misty Forest. She never knew her father, some adventurer she was told that left town before she was even born. Her mother had little time or patience for her, preferring to spend it drinking at the local inn and keeping the company of travelers passing through rather than tending to Serenya. Left to her own devices, she took care of herself and created her own entertainment.Father: Syltharion Umbravale
Never having met her father, she knows little of him other than the name Syl and that he passed through Bowshot in 1338 DR, likely heading south after he left. Neither she nor her mother has had any contact with him since and he is unlikely to know of her existence.
Even from an early age, Serenya was a mischievous child full of laughter and deceit. She took delight in pranks that often crossed the line between harmless fun and cruelty. She'd hide farmers' tools at night and watch them frustratedly search for them in the morning, or lure children into the forest to watch them panic before eventually leading them home again, giggling to herself the whole way, or set harmless traps on the edge of the forest for hunters and loggers to stumble into. Any who dared to scold her would get the worst of it. Her antics quickly earned her a reputation among the villagers, who whispered that she must have fey blood, for her charm could turn their anger to laughter, or, if she chose, their laughter to dread. She wore those whispers like a crown, but she was never satisfied with simple tricks. She craved for something more profound, grander, and more dangerous.
That hunger was answered one moonless night as she was carrying a farmer's plough to hide near the edge of the forest and noticed an eerie glow from deep within. She dropped the plough and cautiously stepped into the forest following the phantom light. After walking deep within the forest, she stumbled upon a clearing that shouldn't exist, a hollow of frost in midsummer, where shadows whispered in a language she somehow understood. At its center floated a shard of jet crystal, pulsing like a heartbeat. It spoke to her, not with words, but with sensations of cold humor, the promise of wicked power, and the thrill of cruelty refined into art. Serenya felt as though a jester's mask, black as midnight, had been lowered onto her face as she knelt, accepted the pact without hesitation, and let the shard's frost burn into her soul.
From that night, Serenya's pranks grew darker. A farmer found his sheep mutilated and posed as if in a carnival dance, hunters began disappearing in the forest without a trace, and anyone who mocked or angered her became part of her cruel games. Serenya laughed through it all, her eyes glittering like shards of black ice.
But she did not remain in the quaint little village, the Queen's laughter and whispers calling her towards greater theaters and larger audiences for her cruel games. She set off south, down the Trade Way towards Baldur's Gate, a city teeming with victims and stages for her wicked play. Malice lurks within her smile, cruelty in her laughter, and the will of the Queen of Air and Darkness behind her shadowed eyes.
//more to come later//