Alayaine Brightblade's page

Alayaine is quiet and introspective. Often times she comes across as abrupt or rude even if no affront was intended. She is self-aware enough to realize this about herself and therefore she keeps her mouth shut on most matters.

She is content to let others set the direction, but will only go along so long as she stands to gain in some way. However, if given a direct order she is more like to do the exact opposite, even to the point of personal danger.

Alayaine has a strong need to prove herself. Compared to her brothers, she was never quite strong enough to satisfy her own competitive nature. Though she found other ways to best them, she sees this as a fault and it eats away at her.

Alayaine dresses in well-used plate. Though she fills the hulking suit of dark gray armor ably, the armor was meant for a man and it seems just a tad too big for her.

She favors a rounded helm open at the face, with a slender nose guard. Speed is her greatest ally on the battlefield, and for that she needs her vision unimpaired. She does not keep any adornments or other useless additions on her person.

Her long bit of steel is likewise plain but sharp. She spends nights by the fire honing the edge, and rubs it down with a fraying bit of cloth - her nameless sister's shawl. Every night she imagines what her sister would have been like. Every night she gives her a new name.

Plain of face, the most notable thing about her is the multitude of freckles spilling down the bridge of her nose and across her cheeks. She keeps her hair cut to her shoulders, short enough to stay out of the way.

When moving into a potential combat situation, Alayaine tends to push the forward edge to the point of recklessness. She's confident in her abilities and is eager to prove to others (especially males) that she is a warrior to be reckoned with.

The Brightblades have been a family of modest adventurers for several generations, though most folk would call them sellswords and have the right of it. The current patriarch, Hal Brightblade, a human of forty and seven, has two sons - Farl, the eldest; and young Kristoph, aged ten and six. Alayaine, Hal's daughter, was born between the two boys. Their mother, Margrette, died giving birth to a girl when Alayaine was six. The babe passed in the birthing too, before she was given a name.

Hal did his best to do right by Alayaine, essentially raising her as his third son. She picked up the sword quickly, and though not as strong as the boys, she was quicker. And smarter too, but truth be told, despite the familial name, none in the family had ever been all that bright. Still, she is freakish strong for a woman, able to bear the weight of plate and the heft of her heavy sword with ease. She has put many a man on his back, and no, they did not like it.

The foursome lived a nomadic life, following the odd job across the countryside and back again. Hal favored reputable jobs, caravan watching and the like, but a man can't be choosy in lean times. The family did their share of work on the other side of the coin, though nothing outright evil.

As Alayaine grew older, the work was increasingly of this variety, though she wondered if it'd always been this way, only she'd been too young to recognize the difference. She developed a steady hand at the odd bit of thievery - lock picking and the like. Though her first love would always be blade work, she could not deny a certain thrill at jingling a lock whilest the city watch was right around the corner.

Nearing fifty, Hal settled his mind on landing one final score, a great haul to set them up for many long years. He'd caught wind of an old ruined keep squatting over the Shadowfell and meant to mine the depths for treasure. Alayaine had reservations but went along with her eager brothers.

Arriving just before dusk, they setup camp just inside the ruins. Alayaine went out in search of wood for a fire. She was at it but ten minutes, but when she returned her father and brothers were gone. Vanished. There was no trace of them, nor any sign that anything was amiss.

She spent the night wandering the ruins, burning through her supply of torches in the looking. Dawn came whilest she was below ground. It was mid-day before she stumbled back to the surface, numb with exhaustion and fear. She never found any trace of her family, and no voice answered her echoing call. Alayaine slept under the bright sun, awakening as the sky bruised to a deep purple. She thought to linger, to let whatever fate took her family have her too. In the end, fear got her legs moving, and at haste.

Alayaine followed the King's Road back toward Fallcrest. En route she encountered a merchant who offered her coin to help guard his wagons. She meant to beg off but overheard one of the swords in his employ muttering about Caves of Chaos. When pressed, the merchant admitted the caravan was bound for the fabled Keep on the Borderlands. He assured her, with a nervous grin, that they'd go nowhere near the caves.

Alayaine accepted the commission but intended on leaving his employ once they reached the keep. She knew little about the caves other than vague - and wild - rumor. And yet she felt a completely unfounded hope that she might find some answers within.