Ashmata

I was raised by my mother, an elven woman with more wisdom than most libraries and a heart too kind for this world. My father? Human. He passed through chasing relics, less for faith, more for coin, and left behind a story I’ve been trying to finish ever since. I don’t hate him. I don’t worship him. But I do plan to cross his path one day, as he probably has no idea I exist.
 

I’ve grown up with one foot in two worlds, and never quite belonged to either. Religion never sat right with me...too many people preaching truth while chasing power. My mother taught me to question everything, especially the stories humans swear are sacred.

I haven’t seen much of the world yet, but I’m finally setting out. I’ve got a lute, a tip jar that’s mostly empty, and a head full of songs I’m still learning to play. I’ve done some questionable things for decent reasons, and I’m not above charming my way out of trouble when needed.

I long for a family, though fate’s made that unlikely. So I chase wonder instead. I’m witty, restless, and always ready to steal the spotlight—especially if there’s music and a crowd. If you hear someone playing a half-decent tune and talking too much between verses, it’s probably me.