There are only two forces in the world. Evil and Music.
In the high halls of the elven kingdoms, beyond the sight of any short-lived race, the weary advancement of time that plagues the rest of the world passes in an instant for the elven inhabitants. Day-long parties and concerts are common-place, and the elven trances are not a respite from a hard day's labor, but rather merely an opportunity to take a short break before re-entering the festivities.
The kings and queens of the Elven realms often call upon the services of the Azatas, a whimsical celestial race. Of these Azatas, the Lyrakien are the most renowned for their musical talent and frequently summoned during the grandest of festivities, to provide heavenly music for their elven hosts. These summoning contracts have existed for generations, and in the modern day, are rarely used; the Lyrakien frequently show up during the festivities without being bound by any magical spell. It was during one of these festivities that an elven woman stumbled across the gaze of a Lyrakien, and Twylla was conceived.
Twylla was an Aasimar, one of the long-lived, and was therefore able to continue living in the elven halls. But even though the Aasimars live for quite a long time, the elves live for even longer. She excelled in her musical studies, because Aasimars develop faster than elves, and was quickly appointed an apprentice to an esteemed elven flautist. However, as the years wore on, she began to grow tired of the perpetual festivities and felt her years begin to catch up with her. Even though she was still culturally an elven teenager, her body had aged into adulthood, a traumatic experience to say the least. So she left her homeland and journeyed into the world, to the city of Magnimar.
The world was not how she expected it to be, despite her knowledge of lore. She had never been expected to work for food, or even have to find her own lodging. Twylla had to borrow money from sordid criminal groups that controlled the slums to survive, and her debts quickly mounted. She had nothing...less than nothing, except, her flute. Soon she was performing in various taverns and on the street corners, and slowly but surely began to repay her debts.
One winter night, while performing in the White Stag Tavern, Twylla was greeted by a menacing large man, a loan enforcer. It had been three months since she had taken out the loan, and it was time to pay. Twylla pleaded with him, offering the money that she had accumulated and asking for more time, but he wasn't someone that accepted excuses. He grabbed her flute, her prized flute, out of her hands and tossed it into the roaring fireplace.
Without thinking, Twylla leaped at the fireplace and plunged her arms elbow-deep into the flames...
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...It had been many years since the Muses had decided to claim Twylla as their own instrument. The miracle of the muses, as Twylla later called it, was both a blessing and a curse. Her hands, charred and wasted by the flames, were weak and fragile, but remarkably, her flute and her ability to play it survived. What's more, she had gained remarkable magical powers, gifted by Shelyn and the muses to spread their worship and their whims.
Using music, she would inspire the masses to stand up for goodness against their oppressors. In places where she failed, she would leave behind networks of followers, who would preserve the muse and spread it slowly, beneath the notice of the the oppressors, for the benefit of the oppressed.
Called by a few of her friends in the city of Alkenstar, Twylla returns to the city of smog, the wasteland for music, with the hope that her power can help repel the machines that are destroying the last bastions of beauty in the city.
