Phynera the Bard

Description:

Age: 52
Height: 4’7"
Weight: 103lbs
Eye Color: Bright, Deep Yellow
Skin: Gray
Alignment: Chaotic Neutral
Hair Color: Black (Hair, plumage and feathers)
Carries small carved totem in the shape of another harpy.

Personality Type:
She often gets lost in her own thoughts and contemplation, becoming oblivious to her surroundings.

Ideals:
Free thinking. Inquiry and curiosity are the pillars of progress.

Social Graces/Bonds:
No social graces. She’d be more likely to have a conversation with a toad than a human. She entered seclusion to hide from the ones who might still be hunting her. She may someday confront them.

Flaws:
Now that she has returned to the world, she enjoys its delights a little too much.

Weapon of Choice: Sharp Claw-Dirk and Well-Loved Flute
There’s not much to say of her weaponry. She uses the dagger only in dire straits, and as for the flute? She dare not speak its name, for fear of it losing its power if she shared it.
Sharp Claw-Dirk
A long and curved dirk made from unknown materials and a strange stone.
1d6 piercing damage. 3 pounds. Light, hidden. 78 gold.
Special Quality:
Bloodlet – The unusually sharp barb of stone on the end of the blade has a 25% chance to cause a massive hemorrhage on the target it is used upon for 3d6 visceral damage. This is a passive effect of the blade. Roll 1d4 every time the dirk is used. You must get a 4 to activate the effect. Disadvantage against heavy armor.

Bio:

Phynera was raised in a harpy brood on the cliffs of the steep Jakkarnat Mountains that lined the island of Nakani, a forgotten and desolate locale along the equator of Tarrea, Realm of the Rivergifts.
Outcasted at a young age, she flew across the Obaran Sea to escape her former home. She lived alone for years in the towering Cravenmaw, fending for herself and learning the art of her own song.
She would steal instruments from passing travelers, along with small shiny trinkets. Through the passing of time, she learned how to master the flute and the dulcimer, while finding herself giddy over the sound of the horn.
While she longed for the company of another soul, she knew that where she discovered by anyone, she would likely be killed. Her brood hated her, and travelers saw her as nothing more than a monstrosity.
Through a series of events, she found a book detailing the bardic arts, and found herself to be a natural. While she doesn’t enjoy fighting, she still managed to practice on hapless adventurers, using a combination of her siren song and new magic.
She is guarded and doesn’t like divulge information about her freely. She is unnaturally kind-hearted, but still a harpy at heart, reveling in the chaos of life and death.

Detailed Background Events:
Born a monstrosity on the Jakkarnat cliffs of Nakani’s stony shore, Phynera quickly learned that she was not like her sisters. She felt guilt and cared if she hurt someone, and her brood quickly began to resent her.
On the twentieth year after her hatching, Phynera was cast out from her home, chased further inland and barely escaping for her life. After losing the hunting party, she found a small cave on the cliffs of the monolithic Cravenmaw Mountains and made her home.
For over thirty years, she lived alone, stealing shiny things and cloth, never using her siren song in the fear that rumors might lead her brood to her.
One day, a group of travelers were attacked on a trail near her cave, and she watched in awe as a woman used her voice and a strange, but not unpleasant, noise maker to conjure magic. She watched from afar, silently, and with renewed hope that this strange magic could help her use her voice again.
Enamored, she followed the woman for a while, trying to learn how this new magic worked. When she eventually lost her, Phynera began flying closer to the towns and main roads, finding more people with the same power as the stranger and learning.
She stole a flute off of a corpse, immediately falling in love with its shiny surface. She learned to play it, and eventually began practicing magic.
Legend tells that, during the night, one might hear the Cravenmaw Mountains sing. Many believe it to be the spirit of a bard, lost on this plane. Few would guess it was a lone harpy who learned to use her voice for something other than luring travelers to their deaths.

Phynera the Bard

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