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There's a small village north of Farhaven that if you searched for your whole life, might never come close to brushing its borders. The world is a big place. This Asralyn has always known, sitting on the cliffs that look toward the endless reams of pole-pines that stretch to the sea. By this time, at the age of twelve, she knew her life would not end in this place. The kiss of the wind lured her away. At sixteen she quit her home as pressure mounted from her parents to settle down. She sought the edge of the world and came to it on the coast of the Eventide Vast and the next chapter in her story; pirates in a cove unloading their bounty and hiding from the wrath of the navy in dogged pursuit. They thought her some feral Shav at first, especially when she lunged a knife into the throat of a sailor who tried to take her aboard their ship. Down a man, the Captain saw fit to offer her a job instead. This disreputable life she led for some years, until their crew came upon the shadow of the Gyre. Asralyn and two others were the only survivors. She parted ways with them, however, and instead took up her spear in the name of whoever paid her wage. For a long time it has been this way, a rough and violent life. A life whose purpose is as transitory as the adventurer who lives it; and now in these interesting times, it has led her to Arx.

Asralyn is tall, splendidly shaped, and lithe. In her movements is evoked the ease of grace seen in panthers and mountain-cats. But she has a thick, full mane of dark brown hair cut from the shadows that ripples down to her shoulders, reveling in the slightest breeze. Her sharp, narrow eyes glint with hazel-hue and on occasion the slightest touch of kohl is used like a whetstone to keep that edge.

In her is incapsulated all the best and worst traits of a survivor. She is quick to her own defense, cynical to take up the defense of others. Secretive, even with nothing to hide, and prone to bouts of excessive joviality and deeper depressions. A life in service to coin at the tip of a spear has robbed the young woman of much and instilled in her a taste for mindless violence and a hunger for ill-defined freedoms. She is rabble, without origin or loyalty, and where the chaos of this lifestyle takes her is fine enough a destination.