Where she stands now Myrrhen dwells in a root-carved chamber beneath crumbling cathedral foundations on Akasia’s edge. Her jars brim with crushed leaves and captured rain-scent. The city withholds permits for “wild” healers, but those who ache seek her anyway-paper means nothing against pain.
Her story
“Elves were not forged to kneel,” she says when exile is mentioned. “We were dragged here as curiosities. We mend, we tend, we remember harmony while your inquisitors burn what they fear.” She brews for human and elven alike who can offer coin or barter. Guards threaten arrest for unlicensed craft, but retreat-the guild heads know no cell will hold her without claiming them too.
Current mood
Resigned yet unbowed. She hums ancient forest songs in solitude. Last week a street child brought desert mushrooms from his dying grandmother, asking why some gifts must be left untaken.
- First Name: Myrrhen "Sprig"
- Last Name: Fallen
- Race type: Wood Elf
- Class type: Herbalist
- Personality:
- Gender: Male
- Side note:
Heritage: Wild Elves, exiled from the great forests after refusing summons to serve the old thrones
Birthplace: Displaced from northern woods into mortal sands - Powers / Abilities:
- Original link to Art:
- D&D 5th Generated PDF:
