Slim and lithe, one could easily be fooled by her boyish appearance, were it not for the head of curly red hair that she sports. Topping 5’6" only on a good day, she may not strike you as a intimidating figure, but there is that well-cared-for rapier sheathed on her right hip to consider. Her clothes may be worn, and perhaps the cloak around her shoulders is a touch travel-stained, but she tries to make the best of it. A silver pendant is worn around the throat, shaped into that of a running fox.
Her voice is husky and rough at times, the cause perhaps rooted in the thin, but visible scar that cuts lengthwise across her throat.
Born in the small town of Rivermoot, her father is a retired soldier from the Silverymoon guard and husband to the owner of the local Inn. She’s the middle child, with a troublesome older brother, and a younger sister that seems set on taking up her mothers’ trade.
Music came easily to her, and growing up, she’d sit enraptured by any and all traveling performers that mayhaps have stopped by the inn for a night. Were she not quite so quick with a blade, and not befallen the damage to her voice, perhaps a bards life it may have been? Still, she has a thirst for song and story, and along with it, the need to travel…