Fearsome, Serious, full of scars

The Aarokocran city of Seyrawu, high in the mountainous jungle of Mordeir is renown for its brightly colored temples, its exotic spices, and its production of the prized Tyrian purple dye.
 
It is the last night of Jeyur, the Aaracokran festival celebrating the god of the east wind, Erud. Joyous laughter of its citizens that had long filled the air after dusk grow silent...then turn into screams. Seyrawu is aflame. Cackles of gargoyles ring in the air. Their shadows flittering about the ground as flames crackle and pop at the top of the aubergine and cerulean rooftops. Feathers float down like snow.
 
A tiny chick just a few weeks old cries amongst a heap of dead Aarakocras. Covered in droplets of crimson, it wails and chirps in confusion.
 
The visage of a dark ebony boot, its leather caked in layers of dry mud, steps forward from the shadows and kneels to look at the frail thing. A silver medallion falls from the strangers neck catching the chick’s eye. The chick reaches upward seemingly unfazed by the medallions engraving of a wraith’s head, eyes and mouth gaped open, hair flailing around it.
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Aera Oos rests among its peers, one eye open sitting half propped on its weapon. Scars adorn it’s body where feathers do not. Its ears ring as it remembers a deep solemn voice, “Aera Oos, You have chosen this path. Do your duty. Place the trophies of our enemies on your mantle. Make the Order renown.” Aera Oos shuffles its feathers. A silver medallion clangs from its neck. The face of a wraith stares back.

Date of Birth

Unknown

Gender

Unknown

Eyes

Blue

Hair

Black brown

Height

5ft

Weight

100 lbs