The Lovely Lute

I am the lovely Lute.

Silver eyes, pale skin, golden hair—I am the picture of youth, despite my old age. All over my body are trace amounts of feathers. You'll find them living in my hair, across my shoulders and up and down my back.

Human, you might think, if my feathers and beauty are concealed. I typically wear simple white priestess robes over chain mail, but when moving from town to town, I wear a violet cloak to help cover my hair and shoulders.

I carry a tall, wooden walking staff with the mark of my goddess carved at the top. Three six-pointed stars fixed in a triangle, their outlines warped like vines.

No one would find me intimidating. I tend to walk around on the tips of my toes like a stork, making me look very delicate to onlookers. I like letting them believe I am a delicate little thing. A tiny little flower, quaking with each breeze, prone to wither should the sun ever fade. The ignorance of that assumption...

Enlighten me—how breakable are human mortals? What would make them wither away? Nevermind, I should not ask such grim questions.

I am descendent of Avoral Celestials, afterall. Raised by human parents who discovered me on their doorstep, nearly a century ago. They believed me an angel sent from the Heavens, and my very existence a blessing. An angel does not dwell on death.

Naturally curious and endlessly bored by the mundane lifestyles and small aspirations of mortals, my adoptive parents sent me to train with those who could show me what it means to be a true “Protector Aasimar,” when I was old enough.

Loving all living things, smiting evil, defending the weak, walking the almighty path.

I learned to channel my inner light to conjure angelic, incorporeal wings from my back to be able to fly. I found power within myself to unleash radiant energy, attacking anything wicked that crossed my path. I might be birdlike in appearance, but I am swift and deadly when trifled with.

Fear not, I only kill those with hate in their hearts.

Ever hear of Mount Celestia? Its power runs in my veins. Through my ties to all that is good in this world, I became a cleric healer and devoted myself to Lliira, Goddess of Joy.

All of Lliira's children can be easily identified should they wear or bear a triangle of three six-pointed stars. I was proud to be welcomed into her embrace, and have found peace teaching others of kindness and purpose in this world. I can beat the ideas into them if need be, should they require some persuasion to be kind and gentle. It usually does the trick.

Negotiation is preferred, however. I do prefer to charm others and avoid confrontation, if possible. I pray to my goddess for wisdom and guidance that I make the right choices and cause no unnecessary bloodshed. Through her word, I heal those who need help, bring joy and light to the world and counsel those who wish to change their ways.

Don't get your hopes up though. If you're evil, I will smite thee in Her name, do not expect to be healed.

Day after day, I let my faith choose where I venture next. My goddess has now pointed me toward the town of Southmand—a small, unsuspecting place. But one in need of Lliira's light all the same.

Exciting to be needed I suppose.

Apparently something terribly dark is happening there. I have prayed for guidance as to what, but Lliira answers me with only silence.

This must be serious. My goddess always shows me what lies ahead, somehow, someway. But this is different. This darkness, it has robbed her of speech. Perhaps there are no words to describe it.

Hells. I would be lying if I didn't say I was frightened. And now through some divine miracle, I must help bring light. Lliira, Illuminate my Path.