Willow

Willow / Willowbee / Penelope

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Race: Fey
Age: Old as dirt. In the history of the multiverse not much is older then the fey, thankfully most can't remember it.
Height: 5'2ish
Weight: 110lbs
Hair: Changes throughout the year, due to the seasons. Has a peculiar forever windswept thing going on.
Eyes: Likewise
Alignment: Neutral Good
Gender: Female
Classes: Druid/Shifter/Cleric
Familiars/Companions: Zele, preceded by Cramtrachel Thornbucket the Bramble Fey, preceded by The Weaver

Affiliations And Titles:
"Second eater of Garm"
The Fairy Court: Titianna, Mirane, Meave, The Puck, Squelaiche

Former Affiliations And Titles:
"Reluctant Cordorian Militia Commander"
The White Stags
Winya Ravana
Shrine of Eilistraee
House Kenlyl
Salandran Temple
Circle of the Sheaf, Druid Circle
Oakmist Vale, Druid Circle

Current Residence: The Feywood, Thain. Alternative Campaign - Raven's Bluff.
Birthplace: Lumorier Island, off the Sword Coast / The Well

Patron Dieties
Primary Patrons: Shiallia
Secondary: Chauntea, Emmantiensien, Salandra, Tymora, Eilistraee,
Known Languages: Sylvan, Elven, Common, Drow handsign, some spoken Drow, and some Thief's Cant.

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Nearly your average elven druid in appearance, she is a mite more weighted than elves generally are, less on the willowy (heh) toned scale and leaning more towards the curved and wide-hipped size of humans. A few distinguishing features are ears just a tad too long and that perma-breeze hair. Speaking of the hair… a tiny gnarled humanoid will sometimes poke it's head out of the side-ways swooping coiffure before quickly ducking back in again.

Some would notice over time that her hair, eyes, and skin tone tends to follow the seasons, changing to mimic it's colors throughout the year. A well-hazarded guess would result in the assumption of a fey-touched.

Around her neck clusters a hefty collection of gifts. A simple chain with a green tinted acorn charm-locket. A leather strand adorned with shells, misshapen pearls, and a varia of branching red and pink coral fragments added haphazardly, like the work of a child.

When not concealed by a long sleeve, an armlet carved entirely of ruby and set with a blueish gemstone at the base is fixed into place on her lower forearm with a few strands of spider webbing. It will, every now and then, give off a spastic burst of fire or layer her arm in a thin covering of ice.

Her other wrist hosts a wide bangle of ironwood, set into it is a row of yellow gems about thumbnail size, each one giving off a dull glow. Appearing in the wooden bangle are names in Sylvan just under each gem, these don't appear to be carved at all but oddly seems as though the wood simply -decided- on it's own to grow with the necessary indentations and grooves required for the script.

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==History: Pre-Amia==

Fey act as recyclable souls, and are born into an endless role. So at one time she could have been a mountain dryad, with grey stoney skin tied to mountains of the Aerie. Or a tiny petal fey in the high forest of the mainlands - stealing away the occasional malarite hunter in a swarm of kin to have them awaken in a glade dressed only in a garment made of flower petals. It can be fairly certain though, that she could have been a reluctant siren that shied away from luring sailors, or the kind of nixie that sticks fish into the ears of offensive humans.

Born now though, on the cusp of a small cliff in the westernly forests of Lumorier. A funny island named after a word for light when it was in fact… little more than a dark wood of few rangers and a few broken settlements constantly attacked by drow raids. As was to be expected, she tired of it quickly in favor of the other island that prehaps should have claimed that name of light, as certainly did it light up in all sorts of strange magics or explosions on many occassions.

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