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Having never met her father, Lyria traveled with her mother since she was little picking up crafting lessons, a little bit from every trade. Whenever she asked who her father was her mother just shook her head, unwilling or maybe unable to answer. Practicing all kind of crafts, she couldn't keep everything she created so because she didn't want to throw them away she gave them to people in need, clothes to small children, keeping for herself only a few. When she turned 19, her mother died because she was too sick and the fever overpowered her. After grieving, Lyria knew that she had to find her family. Or if not her family, then a place of her own. A place where she could live, not be dragged all around by someone. A place she could call home, with friends who wouldn't be lost when she was forced to leave. Because she was alone she ended up selling most of the things she owned so she wouldn't catch the attention of thieves. Selling small things she crafted to people for food or money, she promised herself that her story was just beginning.

Lyria has expressive blue-green eyes. She has a button nose above full, rosy lips. She has average shoulders and well defined muscles, a medium chest and hips. Her arms are delicate and end in long hands with small clear fingernails. She has long legs and is rather delicate. Her hair is done in loose curls. Her alabaster skin shines softly with all the luminescence of a full moon, while her lips seem to be upturned in a warm smile most of the time. Her legs are slim and strong.

Friendly, kind and warm, all lyria wants is to try to find a place she can call home. She doesn't trust easily, but she tries to understand everyone and help if she can. She doesn't aim towards a high position in society, just a home, friends and enough money to be safe. Generally quiet, she doesn't meddle in arguments or wars. If she could she would always watch from afar and help lost souls.