Sylphine Nightfall

Sylphine Nightfall

Relatives	Adrona Nightfall (Mother), Paarth Nightfall (Father)
Place of Birth	Faelon
Species	Wood Elf
Gender	Female
Age	100 Years Old

Physical Appearance

Long, dark brown hair, 5' 5" tall. Eyes are normally green but are currently a vibrant red. Green clothing with brown leather accessories and armor.

Personality

Cunning, rebellious, mischievous, kind, open-minded.

Backstory

"I, Sylphine Nightfall—Sylphy to anyone who's spoken to me more than once—grew up in Faelon, a peaceful, hidden village tucked high in the forest canopy. It was the kind of place where things rarely changed, and the days slipped by like a quiet stream. But me? I was always moving—climbing higher, sneaking further, testing myself.

I have a natural talent for staying unnoticed, picking up on details others missed, and getting into (and out of) places I shouldn’t be. The scouts of the village took me under their wing more out of necessity than choice, figuring if I was going to be a handful, I might as well be a useful one.

When a band of mercenaries broke through the outer wards one night and raided the village, they didn’t leave much destruction—but they left behind a sense of vulnerability and devastation.

I decided to leave after that. My parents, Adrona and Paarth, supported my decision and encouraged me to go out on my own and see what the world has to offer.

I left soon after with my trusty shortbow, a lockpick set I "borrowed" from a scout’s satchel, and a mind set on one thing: get better. At everything. Sneaking, scouting, blades, magic, maps, people. I want to know how things work, and I want the kind of precision that comes from years of practice—not because I want glory, but because if trouble comes again, I want to be ready.

Now I wander from town to town, eavesdropping on deals, navigating ruins for forgotten knowledge, and slipping through locked doors like a breeze. I'm always learning, always improving, always testing myself. Every night, I sharpen my knives and my mind.

I don't need recognition. I just need to know that when it counts, I won’t miss. The most important thing to me is my village and my parents. I need to know why those mercenaries attacked, and I'm going to find out."

The Village Attack

“The first scream split the night like a blade.

I awoke to smoke curling through the trees, not thick enough to choke - but enough to warn. Enough to say this is not a dream.

By the time I reached the village center, the worst had already passed. The fires were small, smoldering along thatched roofs. The raiders - mercenaries - had come fast, taken what they could, and vanished before the forest could rise against them. It was not a massacre. It was almost like a message.

My parents stood amid the wreckage - bruised, bloodied, but alive. Most were. Only a few had fallen, and yet the air was thick with grief. Because something sacred had been broken: the illusion that the forest would always protect them. That no outsider could ever find this place.

I found one of the mercenaries’ arrows embedded in the old gathering tree. It was standard, ugly - iron-tipped and marked with a crude sigil. One that I knew to represent the Abyss, if the books I read were right.

That night, as others wept or rebuilt, I slipped away.

Not out of anger. Out of clarity. I realized then that my skills - stealth, agility, the gift of moving through shadow - weren’t just tools for hunting or mischief. They were a language. A weapon the forest had given me.

I decided then and there that I would learn the secrets of the Abyss and figure out why the sigil had been left behind. Was it an accident? Was it a message? I’m going to find out. Even if it’s the last thing I do.”