Name: Tourmaline Risch
Female, Human-blooded, Quarter Elven-Blooded, Illusionist, White Wizard
It is rumored that she is of the blood of the elves who ride eagles.
She is tall; has blond hair; and green, laughing eyes.
Skin which always seems light and fair, never seeming to darken to tan or burn; hands which are soft and gentle, despite all the work she does with them.
Preferring loose-fitting white clothing with gold seams; long baggy pants and shirts; and almost never wears a hat.
Always smells of lilacs, a very subtle scent; it is not known if it is her natural scent or if it is a perfume.
With a horse named Starfire, with hair so richly tanned it's almost golden.
She is one who gets carried away. A dreamer. A lover of great beauty. An idealist.
She does not charge for her services.
She has little money; she gives most of it away.
She has a determined, strong side to her that comes out when she is needed. She can go for two days, working and toiling without sleep, with little sign of fatigue, when helping people who need her.
Lives off of the land and the kindness of others; is rarely at a loss for a place to stay.
Is a skilled cook, but hardly a gourmet.
She drinks tea, and love sweets. She also loves bread and pears.
Pure, and strong, and bright of mind. Open and vibrant, and refuses to talk about negative things for long.
A storyteller and a writer.
A traveling storyteller. A sort of psychologist, even.
She uses her stories to give morals and bring healing.
She embellishes with illusion magic, while healing and protecting with white magic.
She has a beautiful singing voice, with which she embellishes upon her tales and stories.
She laughs easily, and her singing voice is reflected in her laugh.
She carries blank leatherbound books and writing materials wherever she goes. She signs her name with just an ornate T.
She carries a small satchel of healing balms, probably acquired from various sages. She has no skill in sagecraft of her own, although she is interested in it.
She carries with her a bow and arrows, and a small silver knife; although, in the lands she lives, no one would ever harm her.
She travels a wide circuit of villages, but all within the same general mountainous area.
Rumor is that she knows some of the elves who ride eagles are her distant relatives, but there has been no outward confirmation. It would explain her independent nature, her tendency towards the one mountainous region, and her way with plants and animals.
Because the land she lives in is pure and good, she is allowed to continue being the beautiful soul that she is.
Known in many villages, by many names; many where she has been given a local name. She never corrects the name she's given.
Her narrow life has made her a bit naive; she believes in everyone she meets -- looking straight into their heart.
Rumor has is that she has a small cabin in the mountains somewhere, but no one has seen it; it has only been heard about it from her, and others claim it is just something she talks about in her stories when it is convenient for her to have one for the plot.
Tourmaline wakes up slowly, opening her eyes to take in unfamiliar surroundings. Stone walls. Grass beneath her. Nighttime; a starless sky, but, inexplicably, enough light to see by.
Standing up, she looks around, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. Looking around, she sees that the stone wall surrounds an old, abandoned church. The wooden door into the circle is broken, hanging by a single hinge, looking like a broken arm out of its sling.
Two directions: Out of the circle, or into the church. Shuddering involuntarily, she obeys her instincts, and approaches the aged doors and glassless windows of the church.
As she approaches, shadowy figures begin to form around her, materializing out of the night. Oblivious to her, they walk along the same path as she, making their way towards the building before her.
She reaches the door and moves to open the door, but stops, gasping. Like the figures about her, she has become shadow as well, and her formless hand passes through the handle as if air. She turns to leave but finds she cannot. With no option before her, she steps towards the church door once more, and through....