Appearance:
Lorheta has the fortune of being blessed with both youth and beauty despite her eyes hidden most of the time by a metallic visor of her own make. They say this visor is magical in nature. Witness accounts have attested to her eyes being the same color as the bluish sky, a calmness to it while others have seen her eyes imitating the blackness that come from the abyss and its demons. Whichever maybe the truth, lies behind the visor that she constant wears.

She is taller than most women, as well as the occasional man, standing at 5'9". Her figure is relatively slender, though her exact shape can be hard to discern given how loose her choice of clothing is. Her bright hair is voluminous and straight as a fiddle, stretching just down to her neck blades in length. Despite the look of formality, it's quite well maintained and always seems to have a sheen when caught in the right light. To add to the exotic aura of her features and even the siren-like call of her voice, Lorheta's skin is usually splashed with hints of foreign oils that carry the scent of flora from far away lands.

Titles:

• The Lightbringer
  
• The Argent Charger
  
• Wielder of the Shadow
  
• The Wordssweaver
  
• of the Calming River
  
• The Bright Songstress
  
• The Broken Silent
  
• Mythwalker

Known Achievments:

• Vanquished Xora of the Highborn
  
• Established peace between the Kingdom of Zolia and Takia
  
• First to Reach the 67th floor of the greater ruins
  
• Routed a Massive Barbarian Horde through songs and words
  
• Slain the Mad King of Hersuf and freed its people
  
• Defeated and sealed Thuglmar the Snow Dragon
  
• Became the Avatar of the Raven Queen

History accounts from companions and acquaintances:
Born and raised in the ghetto of a mid-sized town, she feels guilt and remorse for (thinking that she) caused the deaths of her mother and little brother at a young age. She spent her youth trying to to get money honestly, which was nearly impossible because of her peculiar appearance, miserable self-loathing, and righteous indignation. For one she was an elf that was born with dark and black demonic eyes. The people in her village regarded her as a spawn from the abyss and vilified her endlessly. So she spends most of her time alone.

Left alone, she spends her time practicing with weapons, stealing, and picking locks. As a last resort, in her 16th year, she resorted to taking a contract (by the Thief's Guild) from a shady old man to kill someone who had wronged him. When she cornered her quarry, she was quaking with fear. She was about to turn and run, shattered by fear and rage at herself, when a soothing chill calmed her. Her focus cleared, her pulse slowed, and as her target tried to beg for his miserable life, she knew in her heart that he was guilty, and a terrible person. So she killed him.

During her 18th year, she had a knack of telling stories. Her voice would flock to her when she sings, even when she hums whatever tunes she fancies. She learned to dance on her own, and eventually she lived off the streets by performing and playing within the City of Cercy. Eventually she became a well known minstrel and had enough coin to travel the lands.

One winter's moon, she would travel to the lowlands of Chartia only to be met with a massive avalanche. She survived the incident, but during that time she was passed out and buried alive for two days. She couldn't remember the account of what happened next, but she tells the story of her waking up to a dark, misty and cold place. Towers of rocks and skeletal trees faded in and out of her poor vision. A misty shadow started to form in front of her, and she was afraid anew. The man-shaped shadow spoke in her mind, in Infernal. He offered her his guidance, in return for her allegiance. To him, but moreso to her ultimate benefactor, the Raven Queen. He wanted her to kill on the Queen's behalf. Kill those that were truly maleficent. Each miserable soul she dispatched to the Shadowfell would give the Queen more power, and she might share that power with her fledgling recruit. With another sharp chill, she collapsed, asleep.

When she awoke again, there was a beautiful thin sword in-front of her. It's blade was dull ashy gray, and the handle was wrapped with a black, leathery material. she took it and called it her own. Several days would pass, and she was far from home. She has spent the following 4 or 5 years wandering from villages to cities, communicating with her minstrel and merchant network, and even communicating with the thief's guild. She would eventually cut ties with the thief's guild and signs up with the adventurer's guild. There her exploits turned legendary.

As years passed, a wellspring of mystical energy grew, and she could cast spells. Shadows would seek her out on occasion, and her powers and abilities would grow. She began to call her sword ShadowReaver. She spent time with it, whispering to it, sharing her memories and nightmares. After she killed with it, the blade would brighten for a while, and the handle would get a deep azure tint. She was beholden to it, and in some way, it was connected to her. Over the handful of years she has been engaged in her blade pact, she has struggled with her mistakes, and the emptiness of her miserable past, and the equally lonely existence she sees before her. Her songs are voiced and told with sadness but despite the deeper meaning in her performances, the people only see it as what they are, a beautiful sounding tune from an angelic voice.