A tall, muscled woman clad in full plate armor, and wearing a badge of Kord.
From a distance, Blayth looks like a standard paladin; her armor is bright, her Sun Blade at her side. But should she remove her helmet you would see the soft layer of fur on her face, nutbrown. Her eyes are muted blue, her lips full; her smile shows the points on her teeth. Beautiful? Not by the standards of men, certainly. But there is something honorable in her features, a kind of face that is easy to trust in spite of its wildness.
She was born, and she was left. The priests at the Temple of Kord outside the skirts of Winterhaven knew where to take her; it seemed the right thing to do. Marva and James Randershaw, local merchants and minor nobility, had just lost their third child to a stillbirth. Little Marian, as she was called, would help ease their pain.
And for eight years, all was well. Marian Randershaw flourished, a gem among the children of Winderhaven: gentle, loving, the pride and joy of her parents.
But then, Marian Randershaw vanished. The town looked everywhere for her, but after two months of looking, the Randershaws declared that they believed their little girl to be dead, and that the villagers should stop the search and prepare for winter. Some remarked how tearless they seemed, how strange… but they had been through a great deal. Such judgements are left to the gods, after all.
But Marian did not vanish, she did not die; she was not killed or kidnapped. No, she was returned back to the Temple, under an oath, and the understanding that her parents would still continue to provide for her, but she would be a stranger to them in all other senses.
It seemed… it seemed that something was not right with Marian. She began, in her eighth year, to display strange qualities. At first her mother had brushed it off, insisting that not all girls were beauties. But after a few months, even she could not deny. Marian had always been a little wild about the edges, her dark eyes ever so slightly slanted, her ears a little pointed, and covered with soft hair. She would outgrow it, Marva insisted.
But she did not. By the time the summer passed, Marian was covered in a layer of soft fur, and with every new moon, she seemed to grow more difficult to control. During a disagreement with James, she became violent, lashing out at him at teeth that were more beast than human.
Fearful of his wife's life, and mortified that his adoptive daughter had turned into such a monster, James returned Marian to Brother Francis at the Temple of Kord, never to see her again.
For the first year, Marian refused to leave her cell. She at minimally, and languished. It was only though the gentle insistence of Brother Francis that she ever emerged, and only when she heard that a group of paladins dedicated to Kord were going to be passing through the Temple. Moved by their remarkable ability to combine strength with the mysteries oftheir dedication to Kord, she pledged that someday, she would become one as well.
Brother Francis began her training immediately.
But times were difficult. Brother Francis was no young man, and when Marian, who had by now taken the name of Blayth, meaning "wolf", was in her mid-twenties, after nearly a decade of training, the priest died. The new regime at the Temple of Kord insisted that Blayth be dispatched elsewhere. So for the next five years she worked delivering wine casks from the Temple of Kord to their various monasteries about the district. But she was held back from any work that might put her in the limelight. It was believed should she be in a dire circumstance she would not be able to hold back her bestial rage.
Then… disruption. Dischord. Blayth returned after a long delivery to find the Temple rent asunder with feuding between the priests. One had been killed in the heat of an agrument, and Blayth turned from them, unable to continue working in their service and disgusted by their disputes. She took a vow of wandering, brought to an end only when Kord intervened.
For a few years she worked as a mercenary, but this was difficult. In spite of her upbringing, Blayth was remarkably honorable. And honorable mercenary work is few and far between.
Then, one day visiting a town called Fallcrest, she met a young man named Altair. He was, more properly, a half-elf, and the two struck up a friendship that eventually turned into mutual affection. But all was not well; Altair was beholden to a halfling named Littleknight, who had been arranging arena fights with Altair and a group of others. He would not be free to be with her until he could pay Littleknight his debt
So, Blayth enlisted with Littleknight and spent the next two years in the most successful arena companies in history.
Littleknight made a pretty penny, but the cost was higher for Blayth and her friends. They made enemies, and over the course of two months, every one of her companions, Altair included, died mysteriously. Some by poison, others by arrow wounds that would not heal. Altair burst into flames that could not be quenched, and Blayth watched as her lover was consumed…
Now Blayth has returned to Littleknight and Fallcrest, a fallen hero, but refusing to break. She has vowed to pay off her companions' oustanding debts at her own cost. Whatever that may be.