Appearance

Physical Description

Cassia is a human-presenting woman, somewhere in her mid 30’s. She’s not particularly tall - 5’6” at the most - and her frame, while a bit slight, seems capable of comfortably bearing her breastplate, which latches at her shoulders. Her hair, long and dark, is bound in a loose braid thrown lazily over a shoulder, long wisps distractedly pushed behind her ears.
 
She’s attractive, certainly - eyes the color of the sea at dawn, strong hands, a full mouth - but there is no escaping a clear sadness, a heaviness behind her gaze. Difficult to say if her beauty is sharpened or obscured by the scar, but the scar is unmissable. Running from her right temple down across her face, then down her neck before disappearing beneath her plate, the scar is thick, unsettled - the knotted flesh glows with a dull metallic sheen, burnished gold in the low light of the gloaming.
 
The pendant hanging from her neck occasionally *clinks* against the metal of her breastplate; when she pulls it out, its large face and dark beaded strand is obvious, maybe even ostentatious. In the center of the silver disk is a carefully wrought snowflake, flanked by a waxing and waning moon. Above these symbols stretch two large wings, etched in black, hovering protectively over their charge. To either side of the necklace are strung black beads - pearls? Onyx? Difficult to say - which make the faint sound of a distant bell as they jostle and caress their neighbor.
 
At her waist, a long, thin dagger rests, rarely used. Its hilt bears the snowflake and moons of her pendant, but there are no wings. Hanging beside it, and quietly ticking, is a latched locket, its lid wholly covered in intricately detailed gears.
 
Latched to her arm, or thrown on her back, is a most unusual shield: in its center a large, sprawling tree reaches branches upwards, as its roots crawl down; in the center of the trunk, a single eye, now closed. At the base, clusters of mushrooms huddle close.
 
Stepping close to her, you get the distinct smell of the healthy rot of the forest, a sweetness beneath decay, and, unmistakably, patchouli and salted air.

Mentality

Personal history

Definitely has an air of the religious about her, but you've never seen her pray.

Education

She probably had some form of education - she's a quick reader, anyway, and good with languages.

Employment

Has certainly had a job or two before; that breastplate looks valuable.

Failures & Embarrassments

Was once shamed for over-packing for a camping trip. Has never lived it down.

Intellectual Characteristics

Resilient, skeptical, resigned. Rueful.

person.sexuality

Yes and lots of it.

person.gender_identity

She/her, but also, quite literally, they/them.

Taboos

Not a big fan of necromancy or its practitioners; believes that the dead should, generally speaking, remain dead. Wishes people would stop fetishizing life.

Known Languages

Celestial, Common, Deep Speech, Druidic, Dwarvish, Undercommon.

Personality

Motivation

Used to be, she had none. These days, things seem to be changing.

Vices & Personality flaws

Easily loses days in a pleasure house.
Tendency towards skepticism and pessimism.
Grumpy in the mornings.

Hygiene

She smells great and her hair is always just the right amount of disheveled.
For "great," read "a slight warm decaying odor, patchouli, and the ocean."
For "disheveled," read "that braid is a mess."

Social

Birthplace

Shallow Reach

Current Residence

On The Road, Sorta

Contacts & Relations

Gustavo, her closest friend (who doesn't live in her head) and former roommate/landlord.

Honorary & Occupational Titles

Formerly well-respected devotee in the service of the Lady of the Frozen Night.
These days, a druidic student of medicine, decay, and balance.

Religious Views

None of your business.