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Lin Farmer was born in a smaller-than-small village in the middle of nowhere in the Telmarch called Rivlet. So named because it was close to a river and that's what one can expect out a village where the thatcher is named Thatcher, the tailor is named Tailor and, of course, the farmer is named Farmer. Her mother Lin was a hardy woman and her father Hamish was a hardy man and neither of them were interested in life beyond the till and the harvest. Neither were bad people and the life wasn't terrible, but neither cared much about the world beyond Rivlet and while they might enjoy a night of drinking and music at the local inn (run by Robett Innman) but once they were back home the stories the passing bard or troubador may have shared didn't stick with them. Tales of the great heroes, of Dame Sugan and Prince Cerdic, Queen Alarice and Sir Lionel, may have made for an evening's distraction, but for her parents the doings of heroes were things that happened long ago and far away and the fall planting was something that needed to be done now. They appreciated that their daughter had a head for adventure and stories, but there was a job that couldn't be shirked. Still, when she could get away she would do so, running through the woods and pretending she was a knight, swinging a stick and playing at war and heroism. She had friends in the other village children, though as they all aged Dacey Smith was called by her father to the forge and Llew Hunter was called by his mother to the bow. Eventually it was just her, resisting the call to the field. When she was sixteen years old her mother was killed during a shav raid. Her father grieved, but grief can only get one so far when the village will expect your grains to get them through the winter and you will need their beer and meat in return to get you through winter, so after a day Hamish was back to work. The event was enough to set Lin on the path she would follow for the rest of her life. Perhaps she could have fought off the shavs if she were more than she is? Perhaps they all would have been safe had they left this backwater town for a place with tall walls and burly guards? No matter the case, Lin had had enough of being a farmer and one night, without so much as a goodbye to her father, she left Rivlet and ran. Running took her to the river, which took her to Riva, a bigger city than anything she'd ever seen in her life, and from there to Sanctum. If Riva was a shock, Sanctum redefined her concept of the world. In Sanctum she joined the city guard for a time, learning to fight from the best they had to offer and in turn helping to keep the order. Still, as much as life in the city had amazed her, she yearned for more. She rode with the Knights of Solace for a time as an assistant and prospective disciple, but ended up leaving them to join a band of mercenary adventurers out of Arx. With them she saw Arvum, fighting shavs in the North and pirates in the South, protecting villages in the Isles and never quite making it back home. It was somewhere in this period that she let the name Lin Farmer die in favor of something that more suited a dashing adventurer and became Ashlinn Speare, embracing her favored weapon (though she still used a sword when she HAD to) and giving her birth name a little more heroic flair. Ashlinn was in Arx when the Bringers marched on the city. Her company was one of those that joined the Iron Guard and, now a lieutenant in the company, led sorties against the shavs, but there was no stopping them. During the siege she was among those trying to hold the wall in the Thrax ward, trying to live up to her heroic ideals and putting herself between the enemy and fleeing citizens. During a particularly rough engagement, her people having fallen, she found herself fighting side by side with a half-dozen Silver Swords. When that battle was done she'd earned the notice of one of the knights who found herself impressed enough by the Oathlander's skill, determination and dedication to honor, heroics and common damn sense that she decided to keep an eye on the girl. When the siege was broken and Brand killed the knight of the Hundred, or rather the Lord Commander of the King's Own, offered her knighthood and a place in the Silver Swords. This was her dream realized and Ashlinn did not hesitate to accept. It has been going on a decade since and Dame Ashlinn has time and again acquitted herself with valor, her service to the Crown seeing her fighting in Setarco against the Pirate King as the city was evacuated and standing with her fellows against yet another shav army (and other things) when the Gray Forest was threatened by the chieftain called the Horned God. Her greatest honor, and greatest pride, in life comes from her service to the King and his silver swords. That her father recently showed up in the city and is suddenly not only a godsworn but an archlector is a strange wrinkle, sure, but duty comes first.

Ashlinn is tall, and not 'for a woman', but just in general. She's pretty, with dark hair and eyes, but with the bluff face and open demeanor of a commoner originating far from the city of Arx. Her hair is nice and wavy and so damned thick it defies any style more complicated than a long, heavy braid and may very well eat any combs that try to do something fancier. Dark brown eyes don't miss a thing, but don't do much to hide, either. Sun-dark skin is marred here and there with scars picked up from a life spent first working in a field and then later fighting in one. Given a slight crook in its bridge it's likely her nose has been broken once or twice, and given a slight crook in her smile it's as possible that her jaw has as well. Still, the smile is there as often as not.

Depending on when one meets her they may walk away from Ashlinn thinking she's a good natured girl with an easy smile and her heart on her sleeve while another may find her a stern, foul-tempered drill sergeant. And they would both be right. Ashlinn's personality is one of extremes. She loves the Compact, she loves its people, she loves her friends and she loves her city and more than anyone she loves her compatriots in the Silver Swords and the royal family, and that love shows constantly in warm smiles and a bright disposition. It also shows in the way she brooks absolutely no shit from anyone about any of it, that she's incredibly serious when it comes to protecting the things she loves and her lack of tolerance for slacking in any form, especially from anyone who may be in her charge. Woe to the silver squire who is caught napping when they should be sanding armor or brushing horses.