Aaralynn Myreen

(Pronounced: Are-uh-lin M-EAR-een) A cleric to Othar with pallid skin, long blonde hair, and violet eyes.


Aaralynn is surprisingly elf-looking for a mongrel, though distinctly different enough that it is easy to tell she is not. She is of small frame, exempting her slightly broad shoulders, and the relative average height that a human might be. Her long blonde hair cascades to the base of her spine, just passing the small of her back. Her violet eyes are very distinctive and often seem piercing, though her right eye is somewhat clouded over as a result of damage from when she was very young. She is blind in this eye. Her left knee has a small amount of scar-tissue around it, and she favors this leg very slightly, though she is now so accustomed to it and good at working around it that it’s barely noticeable to an onlooker. Her skin is so pale it borders on albino, making the scars from whip marks of childhood abuse stand out very strongly on her back. For this reason, she seldom allows others to see her back, as she wishes to avoid explaining how she got the scars. She has a silver holy symbol of Othar which she is nearly never seen without hanging around her neck.

General Information:
Level: 3
Race: Mongrel
Alignment: Neutral Good
Domains: Good, healing
Size: Medium
Age: 28
Height: 5’7"
Weight: 155 lbs

STR: 12; modifier: +1
DEX: 12; modifier: +1
CON: 14; modifier: +2
INT: 12; modifier: +1
WIS: 16; modifier: +3
CHA: 12; modifier: +1

Saving throws:
Fortitude: +5
Reflex: +2
Will: +6

Combat Stuff:
HP: 23
AC: 18; Touch: 13; Flat-footed: 17
Initiative: +1
Base attack bonus: +2
Grapple modifier: +4

Weapon/Attack: Masterwork Composite Longbow
Attack bonus: +4
Damage: 1d8
Critical: x3
Type: 2 handed ranged, piercing
Range: 110 ft
Size: Medium

Weapon/Attack: Light Crossbow
Attack bonus: +3
Damage: 1d8
Critical: (19-20)/x2
Type: 2 handed ranged, piercing
Range: 80 ft
Size: Medium

Weapon/Attack: Dagger
Attack bonus: +3
Damage: 1d4
Critical: (19-20)/x2
Type: 1 handed light melee or ranged, piercing/slashing
Range: 10 ft
Size: Medium

Skills w/ ranks in them:
-Bluff: 1
-Concentration: 3
-Diplomacy: 4
-Heal: 5
-Hide: 1
-Knowledge (religion): 3
-Knowledge (nobility): 2
-Knowledge (arcana): 2
-Spellcraft: 2
-Spot: 1
-Use Magic Device: 1

Feats & Special Abilities
-Medium armor proficiency
-Combat casting
-Lay on hands (w/ +1 lvl & +1 Cha)
-Detect evil
-Turn undead
-Speed/movement unaffected by armor/load

Common, Dwarven, Elven, Celestial, **Divine


General summary of personality:
Aaralynn is a good diplomat when she manages to get the chip off of her shoulder. She is headstrong and not fond of being ordered around, but is willing to cooperate as long as she is being treated as an equal rather than a subordinate. She largely plays by her own rules, but still roughly follows Otharian principles while doing so. She has major issues with trust, and in fact trusts so few people they can be counted on one hand, primarily this includes Thalic. Her lack of trust in almost everyone often manifests in the form of suspicion of just about everyone and everything. Though this sometimes inadvertently causes conflict, it is unintentional. In fact, Aaralynn hates conflict and attempts to be a peace-maker when she is able. She is selfless to a fault, hates seeing people hurting, and tries to help however she can, even at the expense of herself. She’s incredibly secretive and tells few details of her past, though has vaguely mentioned some of it on occasion. Despite this, she hates secrets being kept from her, and develops strong distrust towards those she suspects are keeping things from her deliberately.

Otharian Code of Conduct:
1. Learn, discover, teach.
2. Do unto others that which they do unto you.
3. Help your stranger.
4. Work towards your desires.
5. Don’t hurt people.
6. Help and advise, do not harm or control.

Aaralynn Myreen, a mongrel, was orphaned at the age of four. Her family (both parents and a twin sister) was killed in an “accidental” fire that’s rumoured to have been set by a group of particularly racist and hostile dwarves (her father had been seen being too friendly with some elves). Aaralynn escaped, but not unscathed. She wound up permanently blind in her right eye and with a slight limp on her left side.
Just as she was escaping the burning building and made it to a safe distance from the house, she was flooded with images- visions. A barrage of them all at once overtook all of her senses such that she was no longer consciously present in the material world around her, but the one in her head. The barrage was a trauma in itself, and as she was so young and had already experienced enough, she only managed to remember one of them after she came to.
Aaralynn survived about two weeks alone on the streets until another, older mongrel, very different from herself took her in. He was kind at first and helped her get back to good health. He fed her, clothed her, and cleaned up her wounds as best as he could until aside from the blind eye and the limp, she was back to full health. She’d grown to love and trust the man by then, despite his odd insistence that she address him only as “sir” or “master,” that she not know his name, and that neither of them go out in daylight. She didn’t remember much of her life before the fire, aside from her name, so all of that didn’t even seem too out of the ordinary.
After she’d recovered, things took a turn for the worse. Master started acting funny, and since she now roamed the house more freely, she began to notice a surplus of empty and half empty bottles of something that smelled rank to her. Every time Master drank it, he became scary. Sometimes it was just yelling, sometimes he threw things and hit her, and on several occasions she was whipped to the point of barely being able to stand. She became nervous of everything, jumping at her own shadow, walking on eggshells, and trying desperately to avoid running into Master in the house. She learned every corner of that place where she wouldn’t easily be noticed and spent most of her time in them. It backfired. He got angry when he couldn’t find her, and even more so when she refused to come out of hiding when he called. When she eventually caved, it always meant pain. She lived like this for about a year without ever having gone outside in that time before she began contemplating escape.
She began taking more notice of his sleeping patterns, when he was out of the house, etc. She was only around six years old at this point and despite plans was too scared to leave. Things with Master were bad, but she had no concept of what the rest of the world outside was even like. So, Aaralynn stayed. She stayed for another entire year before something happened to harden her resolve to flee that horrible place.
It was a particularly bad day for Master, Aaralynn didn’t know what was wrong, but she did her best to appease him. She did thrice her normal amount of housework and made a point to come when called. Something about him that day felt very wrong, more so than usual, and she didn’t want to set him off.
Sometime near the end of the day, Master called for her. As she’d taken to doing the past few months, she obediently wove her way through the house and over the empty bottles until she arrived where he was. He had a wild, almost feral look in his eyes. Sensing something was off, Aaralynn took a hesitant step backwards. Master didn’t like that. He snatched her to him, gripping her arm so hard it was not only painful, but excruciating. Her one good eye widened in terror as a scream began to tear through her throat before Master clapped his other hand over her mouth, “None of that, now.” He hurled her hard against the floor and forced himself on her. It seemed an eternity before it was over and he left her there, shaking and sobbing.
On a whim, she tried to escape that night, but he caught her just as she had stepped out the door. “I’m sorry, sir,” she started to whimper as he dragged her by her hair back inside. He threw her to the floor and took a whip to her back so hard that the cloth ripped and blood poured from the places the whip had bitten her skin. After nearly her entire back ran red and she could only really move at a crawl or a very weak, doubled-over walk, he left her there.
She waited hours without moving until she was certain he was asleep before she dragged herself back to the nearby and still half open door. Bracing herself on the support of the doorway, she got to her feet and stepped outside for the first time in years. Then, as quickly as her weakened body would let her, she began to distance herself from that awful place. The farther she walked, the more blood she lost and the weaker she felt. Eventually, she found herself in the middle of a town looking at the day beginning to break on the horizon before she fainted from blood loss.

Aaralynn awoke in a room she did not recognize, laying in a bed, and with all her wounds apparently healed. Rather baffled, she pinched herself to make certain she wasn’t dreaming. She’d been certain last night that she was going to die out there. After recentering herself, she began to take careful stock of her surroundings until she noticed an old dwarf sitting across the room. Immediately she jolted up and looked frantically for the nearest exit.

“Oh good, you’re awake. I’m Ries, Ries Thalic.” The man’s voice was kind and warm; Aaralynn relaxed just slightly, but kept her eyes on the door. She didn’t trust this. Her heart was racing. “A few days ago, some people here found you collapsed in the street not far from here, nearly dead. They healed you as best they could and brought you to me in an attempt to ensure your survival. Even I was worried you might not make it.”
Aaralynn steadied her breathing, staying on alert but with minimally less urgency. “Why am I here? Why are you helping me?” Her voice trembled with very obvious fear.
Thalic smiled kindly as he answered her, “You’re in our monastery, the Church of Othar. You’re here because you need help, and we’re helping because that’s what we do.” He smiled warmly, “May I ask your name, young one?”
“I-I’m..” She hesitated, then went on, “I’m Aaralynn Myreen. I have no family.” Her voice shook.
Thalic’s smile was melancholy, “Well, Aaralynn, you do now. Welcome home. You’re safe here.”
Aaralynn didn’t know what to make of this, the last man who’d rescued her became a monster. How could she be sure he was trustworthy?
“I understand you’re scared, maybe even scared of me. That’s okay. You have all the time you want or need before you begin learning anything.” Thalic’s voice remained gentle, as though he were steadying a spooked horse.
“Learn?” Aaralynn’s voice trembled.
“Since you’re here, I intend to have you raised in and by the Church. Now that I am certain of your safety and survival, I will be turning you back over to the young women who rescued you and brought you to me. They are all clerics under Othar and have been very concerned for you while you were in recovery and unconscious. They will be able to teach you anything you need or want to learn, and will watch over you while you are here with us. Othar will be your protector, as he protects and heals all who need it and are within his domain. You are safe now, and will remain that way.” Thalic spoke slowly and gently, making sure to give her time to process everything he was saying. “Do you have any questions, young one?”
Aaralynn puzzled for a moment, deciding whether it would be better to run now while she still had the chance, or to accept the offer. She no longer trusted apparent saviours, but since she would be with women instead of a man, she felt it might be just a bit safer. Still on edge, but believing staying with the Church to be her safest option, Aaralynn shook her head and said, “No, when do I get to meet the people who rescued me?”
“You get to meet them as soon as you are inclined, they are just downstairs. Would you like me to call them up here or lead you down to them?”
Aaralynn paused before answering, internally debating which had the least risk. After a moment, she’d decided, “lead me to them, if you would.” Her voice remained timid, but it shook less.
“Would you like to go now?”
“I,” she hesitated, “yes, I would…please.”

Summary of following events:

Aaralynn was led to a group of three clerics, Mira, Selene, and Eliah. The youngest, Selene, was about 20, and the eldest, Eliah, was around 120. Eliah was elvish, and the other two were dwarven. For several months Aaralynn trained with them and rarely strayed far from wherever at least one of them was. She grew only slightly close to them, enough to love them, but not enough to wholly trust them. After a time, for a reason unknown to any but Aaralynn and her three rescuers, Thalic took over her training. From there out, Aaralynn accompanied Thalic nearly everywhere and in doing so became friendly with a whole host of nobles. She trained under Thalic and learned nearly everything she knows from him. He raised her much as he would raise his own child, and remains the only stable parent-type figure in Aaralynn’s life.

Aaralynn Myreen

The Dead (True Names) dizzybeyor