Biography:
When pressed about her background, the woman calling herself Aver gives up little.  She spent much of her early life in a farming village in Wissenland, lucky enough to live off the banks of the River Söll.  For the longest time she could produce no child for her husband, Robert Eldebrandt, and desperation began to grow.  It was in her late thirties that she gave birth to a daughter, Edythe.  But more spectacularly, it was during that birthing that she felt the Winds of Magic blow through her hair, caress her skin.  Burn her nostrils.  Scorch her toes.  The wind of Aqshy, the Red Wind, the Wind of Fire, awakened within her that day.  She had no choice but to flee her village to find a master, for her own sake and that of her daughter.  Not a day goes by that she does not think of Edythe, but there is still much to learn.  There is still much to control.

Appearance:
At first glance, Aver appears to be a sturdy woman, with long brown hair and blue eyes.  She stands with a stoop, likely from years of toil, and her inherent beauty is marred only by a hairy mole on her chin.  But there is so much more about her than just that.  Her hands are frequently darkened by charcoal, which she uses to leave markings on her face.  She wears a girdle around her waist, helping cinch her threadbare robes; a single dangling charm often catches the eye.  Though dressed in robes, she takes care not to advertise her magical talents (as opposed to many Wizards who take a more flamboyant approach).

Personality:
It is not uncommon to see Aver praying to the gods, and most of the prayers seem to be asking for guidance with her new powers.  She often seems uncomfortable with access to the Winds of Magic, but shows a willingness to use them when necessary.  Outside of her magic, Aver is a kind person, soft spoken, and supportive.  On the other hand, she can just as easily be stubborn, taciturn, and inattentive.  She shows the manners of one who only recently learned them, understanding many of the rules of etiquette without having the practical experience.  She hums frequently, much to the chagrin of her companions, often singing out whatever task she is working on.