Lyrune's page

Elf (Eladrin) Wizard - Sage
Str 10 0
Dex 16 +3
Con 13 +1
Int 16 +3
Wis 12 +1
Cha 8 -1

hps 7 AC 13 (16 w mage armor)

Proficiencies
Skills
Perception +3
Arcana +5
Investigation +5
History +5
Nature +5
Saves
Intelligence +5
Wisdom +3
Languages
Common
Elven
Celestial
Thassilonian

Racial Abilities
Darkvision 60'
Fey Ancestry (advantage on saves v. charm, can't be put to sleep magically)
Trance (4 hours meditation=8 hours sleep)
Elven Weapon Familiarity
Misty Step (bonus action, 30' teleport to unocupied space I can see, 1x, short or long rest restores)

Class Abilities
Spell attacks +5, DC 13
Arcane Recovery (Once per day when finishing a short rest, recover 1 spell level worth of expended spell slots)
Cantrips:
Mage Hand (duration 1 minute, range 30', 10lbs)
Ray of Frost (+5 1d8 cold, speed reduced by 10')
Prestidigitation
Spellbook: (memorized spells*)
*Detect Magic
Identify
Find Familiar
*Mage Armor (AC 13, 8 hours)
*Sleep (5d8 hps worth of creatures fall asleep in 20' radius. Range 90', duration 1 minute)
*Thunderwave (15' cube, 2d8 thunder damage + pushed back 10', con save for ½ and no push)

Background:
Personality: I am horribly, horribly awkward in social situations
Ideal: No Limits: Nothing should fetter the infinite possibility inherent in all existence.
Bond: I've been searching my whole life for the answer to a certain question.
Flaw; I can't keep a secret to save my life, or anyone else's

Gear:
Dagger
Component Pouch
Scholar's Pack (backpack, book of lore, bottle of ink, ink pen, 10 sheets of parchment, bag of sand, small knife)
Spellbook
A bottle of Black Ink, a quill, a small knife, a letter from a dead colleague posing a question I have not yet been able to answer, common clothes, belt pouch
10gp spent on summoning familiar (mouse)

Nothing in Elysium could have prepared Lyrune for Thassilon. Or Varisia, as the people that occupied that land called it now. She had lived her whole life in a tiny village in the midst of an endless wilderness of boundless love and creation. From a ery young age, she'd been possessed by a boundless curiosity, and not only the Eladrin (as her people called themselves), but the plane itself encouraged her to pursue her passion to learn. She became curious to learn the fate of Thassilon.

From her reading, she learned that the once great empire had been threatened by a catastrophe beyond the scope of imagination. Most of the elves had fled elsewhere, but a small community of scholars and artists had chosen Elysium as their new home. Over the centuries, they became Eladrin. Few knew of their existence. They kept to themselves and enjoyed the wild utopia that they had adopted, and until Lyrune, none had ever left.

Her curiosity could not be satisfied by the records that were available to her, and for all her efforts, she could not discover more than hints at what had become of the ancient land. The azata became aware of her frustration, and they understood her need to uncover the truth. One night while she slept, they opened a gate to the material plane. When Lyrune awoke, she was in a strange place, unfamiliar, but immediately recognizable to her. She was in the ruin of a Thassilonian town.

A year later, she has learned something of the world she finds herself in. She knows that the wilderness is neither as infinite or as safe as what she had known. She knows there is evil. She knows there is a kind of society, though it is far too barbaric for her to think of it as a civilization. She has also learned that as savage as the Varisians seem to her, they are honorable and moral in their fashion. She recognizes that their world is dangerous and that they have been shaped by it as she was shaped by her home.

Though she has not lost her curiosity about the fate of Thassilon, she has grown almost as curious about the world that has grown up on her ruins. She has heard tales of Sandpoint's butterfly festival, and has traveled there from Magnimar.

Lyrune is quite pretty, with silvery hair and skin, and golden eyes that seem to radiate wisdom. She wears a simple grey robe with a hood trimmed in silver threads, and high boots.

She means well. You can tell she does, but she just doesn't seem to understand people. She knows a lot, which can be useful, but if you're not careful, she'll start telling you. And once she starts, it's like an avalanche. Maybe somewhere there's someone who finds it all as interesting as she does. Golarion is full of all manner of impossible creatures, after all.