Curse of Strahd
Female Elf Rogue
Mahel has a stern, yet hauntingly pleasing face. Her features are defined, and in some cases such as her high cheekbones and the cattish bridge of her nose, creates many creases when she smiles or laughs. She expresses emotion as it is more often through sassing with words and or greater body language. She always looks like she’s about to laugh or scowl, muscles tensed yet lucid like a whip and a natural pink to her cheeks no matter the situation or weather. Her overall skin tone, though fair, glows, almost in waves of gold, with utmost health. The black of her hair is youthfully stark with strands of it beginning to gray in cascades, revealing its vaguely blue tint. The Elf’s eyes are almond shaped and thanks to her high cheekbones, naturally exude a condescension towards whatever, or whomever their green irises, new leaf in shade, set sight on.
Mahel is of a clan of Wood Elves that roam the outskirts of the mists of Barovia, her ilk supposedly protected from its lure and trap. As a child she spent most of her time exploring the woods, and examining trinkets from the Vistani, as if they were great relics.
Her lust for knowledge lent more towards academic studies as she grew, and so for twenty years over she paged through hundreds upon hundreds of tomes and notes. Eventually she could no longer look to her people or the gypsy folk, but to adventurers and other such curious strangers.
Ten years of muddled together study and thievery were her course until she was deemed a proper adult, and accountable should she continue attracting unfavorable attention to the clan.
The months between being reigned in and her first scouting assignment are… hazy at best. She cannot seem to describe a single moment of those months in pristine, and stranger is that she finds herself uncharacteristically not wanting to.
There are dreams within her trances from time to time, where she can hear screams and angry slurs before her vision is overtaken by a silver light.
Her concerns dismissed when shared, Mahel trusted the word of her elders, and moved on with her life, only to have it shudder from whatever happened during those forgotten days. A group of bounty hunters came to demand her blood, and her clan… agreed. She fled from the hunters and her “bewitched” clan.
Before she knew it she was in the mists. These mists she had so often run past and grazed in her youth without fear… as she caught her breath, they now swirled back into her face against a impenetrable white wall, shimmering as it was obvious, yet darker in presence than anything she had ever felt before.
Mahel and her familiar, Albrath; an opportunistic, crude weasel, told by Vistani within that they could not aid in the duos escape, found a niche with a toy maker, in a city under the thumb of a crazed burgomaster, and the monstrous one of his most devoted. It is there they wait for heroes that stand a glimmer of a chance to down the cursed Strahd.