Race: Human
Class: Fighter 5
Height: 5'5"
Weight: 121 lbs.
Hair: Silvery Blonde
Eyes: Hazel

Descended from the ancient Silver Folk Aeniria has their tell-tale silvery blonde hair, but not have their gray eyes. Instead hers are hazel, a trait inherited from her mother, making Aeniria a half-breed among her people, but most of them stopped caring about such things a century ago. She's fair skinned and still has the look of a girl about her face, though she swears she's at least twenty when pressed. The truth is birthdays aren't special days among the Silver Folk so she doesn't know when she was born, and her age is only her best guess. She's certain she's not a mere girl anymore.

Archery comes as naturally to Aeniria as breathing. She was a prodigy with a bow from the moment she held one as a child when she used it to hunt everything from everything from rabbits, to elk, foxes, and more in the rocky, green foothills of the Silver Mountains. Aeniria lived in a northern border town between Craw and Sandryne. The town was small, and ancient. Like many people in her town, Aeniria can trace her lineage to the ancient clans of Silver Folk who inhabited the great green hills, and valleys south of the Silver Mountains. Legend said that her people had been in the foothills for so long the mountains were named after them, but Aeniria is sure they're named after the silver Craw and Sandryne mine out by the tons when they're not warring for them.

Aeniria knew war from a young age. Every few years an army would arrive, sack the town, claim they were now subjects of the King of Sandryne, or citizens of the Merchant Houses of Craw. It was a hard childhood, but they weren't poor and she lived in a loving home, even if they had to rebuild it every few years.

The Archer had considered this to be her life. She'd marry, have children, and watch armies move back and forth from her kitchen window, hunting when she could. Until one fall the armies of Sandryne arrived and sacked the town. This time, aside from the usual injuries and illnesses that came with them they brought plague.

The plague took Aeniria's father first: he had been wounded defending the town, and his injuries made him easy prey for the rotting sickness. His death was mercifully quick. Then the plague took Aeniria's sister: she was young, and too weak to fight off the illness. Her death was also merciful and quick. Then the plague took Aeniria's mother: her mother's death was not merciful or quick.

Weak with the heartbreak of having to bury her husband and youngest child only days apart she suffered with the plague's fevers, oozing blisters, and paralysis. Those symptoms and her grief left her mother nearly comatose. Aeniria stayed by her mother's side for those long, torturous weeks as her mother languished; wasting away before her eyes. She cleaned her mother's soiled body. Her weeping sores. She kept her warm when she shivered and tried to cool her when she was sweating. It was for nothing. One morning Aeniria awoke to find that her mother had died in her sleep.

For the first time in her life Aeniria was alone, and sure of only two things: The armies of Craw were just as accountable for her family's death as the armies of Sandryne, and that the place she had grown up, loved, and had known as home her entire life was no longer a place she could bear to be. So she left.

Aeniria took all the money she could find, made her way down the Ganymia river to Boros, booked passage on a merchant galley and fled. Days later she found herself standing in the port of the Traian capital of Dashia. More importantly, for the first time in more than a month, she found herself feeling optimistic about the future.