Appearance

Physical Description

Slender and well-proportioned.

Apparel & Accessories

Generally found in a tank-top and brown trousers, neither made of fine materials, with her chain shirt and spiked pauldrons sitting over them. Wears her swords on her hips, their sheaths hanging from her enchanted belt.

Specialized Equipment

Uses two shortswords, dual-wielded.

Mentality

Personal history

Lyric was born to a peasant couple. They were nice people, but they weren’t the most well-educated, and thus didn’t recognise Lyric as an aasimar. Indeed, her village hailed her as some sort of angelic being. Her first 8 years were spent in relative luxury. She had friends, toys, love… it was incredibly clichéd, but it was perfect.
 
This changed when rumour of this ‘angel’ spread. Whilst most educated civilisations understood the concept of aasimar and dismissed the rumours, some people decided that making an example of this child, this false ‘god’, would be the best course of action. A group of the nastier sort – a few orcs (both full and half), some humans, and even a tiefling – set out toward the village. They brought with them fire and destruction. The air was filled with the screams of everyone Lyric had ever cared for, and she herself was quickly captured. Bound to a pole, the young aasimar was forced to watch her parents die, their blood spattering across her dress. She couldn’t scream. She could only watch as they prepared to finish their ‘job’, fully expecting to follow her parents into the afterlife.
 
Thankfully, a gang of the most malevolent sorts travelling together did attract attention, and a second, just as unfair, fight began between the invaders and a haphazard group of adventurers broke out. The adventurers were far stronger, and upon realising the situation, brought Lyric with them to a fairly large town nearby. The local church took her in.
 
She spent the next years recovering from her ordeal. Physically, she was perfect. Psychologically, she was scarred. In her studies, she learnt of what she was, and soon understood how fitting her name was. She took up the harp in honour of this heritage, yet refused to bow to the strong pressure from the local clerics to become a bard – whilst she appreciated music, that wasn’t for her. Behind their backs, she’d already been meeting with a handsome boy who’d begun teaching her the ins and outs of being a rogue. Smooth-talking the menfolk was easy for her, even at her young age (she was barely 18 at this stage). Stealth was a little harder. She stood out rather sorely, and needed to learn disguise. However, with her racial darkvision, she could easily hide in dark corners and rooms and hide perfectly. Her skills developed further, and soon her male friend was dragging her out onto a ‘mission’, for a guild he wouldn’t name. Armed with two shortswords, yet not very skilled with them, it was a disaster. They’d been tasked with ‘retrieving stolen treasure’ – something she didn’t realise was only stolen because they were the ones taking it. Her companion carried the mission almost entirely, then laughed at her horrified expression when she realised what they’d done. When she’d threatened to go to the mayor, he’d attacked. She was left unconscious in the snowy winter, her ‘friend’ fully expecting her to freeze to death. He hadn’t counted on the aasimar cold resistance.
 
She awoke in a cell. She’d been not-so-falsely accused of stealing the treasure, a highly valuable necklace belonging to a very rich lady. Whilst she was able to talk her way out, her trust had been shattered. She refused to speak with anyone for another year, just working odd jobs and performing with her harp to gain money. After that, at age 19, she left for the life of a wanderer.
 
It was on the roads that she felt happiest. There was nobody to lie to her, nobody to manipulate her or try to kill her for no reason. She was free. She travelled with various merchants, taking what she needed and buying what she felt like. Occasionally, those she stayed with would require her to help fight off bandits, so of course she assisted, always darting behind them to stab them in the back with her swords. She eventually bought a mule, so that she could have a place to store her belongings, naming it Alto – another musical name, themed around her own. It was very rarely that she’d introduce herself as Lyric, instead preferring to utilise other musical names alongside disguises.
 
A travelling gnome, much older and wiser than herself even with his small stature, was the one to first interest her in alchemy, gifting her with acid and mentioning ways different alchemical brews could be constructed. She stayed with his group for a few weeks just learning about it, and upon departing, travelled to a nearby settlement to purchase a portable lab. She wasn’t amazing with it, but it was fun, and she enjoyed using the skill to make interesting creations.
 
At some point over those long years, she came across a rather nasty group of animal smugglers. She stayed far away, but kept an eye on them, and snuck into their camp at night to examine their prizes. Many cats, snakes, owls and other dangerous creatures stayed cramped in tiny cages, and one cage called out to her – literally. A pseudodragon..! It asked her, quite politely and via telepathy, to please free them, as it – she – wasn’t enjoying the torture that the smugglers called ‘training’. She immediately agreed, and began planning. She dosed the smugglers’ food with sleeping potions, given to her by that very same gnome who’d taught her about alchemy, and waited. The smugglers suspected nothing, their watch having fallen asleep and lied about it. Food was consumed. The thuds of their bodies against the ground was no more satisfying than slitting their throats was – Lyric didn’t enjoy murdering the helpless – but the animals were soon free. The dragon, ever so tiny as it was, stayed with her; the rest departed. She’d gained herself a travelling companion, at least for that moment.
 
Over the next few years Lyric and the pseudodragon – soon named Muse – formed a strong friendship. True, Muse demanded bribes of food and attention for tasks, and they were rather sassy towards each other, and Muse got annoyed at Lyric far too often for choosing less-than-ideal ways of doing things, but they were friends nonetheless. Lyric didn’t exactly have too many friends, after all – she’d encountered other aasimar and other adventurers, but none had been too friendly. And most had thought her to be a sorcerer. Admittedly, she did like to use her glitterdust ability to escape sometimes, but still.
It was in a bustling city, big enough for her to easily sneak a few gold pieces here and there, that she met another interesting person. She’d been sitting at the bar, taking up a corner seat like every rogue preferred, ignoring the flirtatious drunk men, nursing a drink, when some sneaky ifrit had wandered over, slung an arm around her shoulders and virtually dragged her into some conning scheme.
 
Being a rogue, she’d gone along with it. They’d conned the man out of a cool two hundred gold pieces, and the ifrit had been about to disappear with the money when Lyric had taken the entire 200gp, raising a brow at the other. The ifrit had assumed she’d been some random sorcerer, after all. A debate between the two ended up with them getting a room together for the night, sharing the money and a jealous Muse trying to get Lyric to leave. Of course, they’d fallen together and become travel partners for the next ~20 years – Dari was a sweetheart, even if she could be awfully annoying and manipulative. Lyric made sure at the beginning of their friendship that the fiery lady wouldn’t dare try that on her.
 
At age 74, Lyric was fairly skilled in her rogue activities, holding her trusty swords (and dagger, and rapier, and shortbow) with a proficient hand, always looking forward to her next adventures with Muse, Dari and whichever edition of Alto (muses didn’t tend to live that long, especially not with her, and she’d long since lost track) was around at the time. Of romance, she thought little – it’d be nice to have someone with her, but she didn’t trust anyone enough. Not even Dari, and she would never dare ruin that friendship.

Education

Studied alchemy under the tutelage of a wandering gnome. Learnt her roguish talents through practice.

Employment

Mercenary.

Mental Trauma

Entire village set on fire & family killed in front of her just because of what she was born as. Left for dead by her only trusted friend.

Morality & Philosophy

Questionable morals. Doesn't really care for the lives of anyone outside herself and her small group of friends, and will regularly send others to their deaths.

person.sexuality

Pansexual.

person.gender_identity

Female.

Taboos

Breaking her friends' trust.

Known Languages

Common, Celestial, Draconic, Sylvan

Personality

Motivation

Wants to find her place in the world, whether that's as an angel of death and destruction or one of benevolent protection.

Social