Name: Basha Grenbow
Race: Half Forest Elf / Half Human
Class: Ranger, Rogue, Keeper of Shadows
Description: Basha Grenbow seems like nothing more than a very young half-elf ranger at first glance but her dualistic nature will rise to your attention quickly.
Never truly at peace with herself, this one can be difficult to get a handle on. She is chaotic and always swings to the extreme. One moment she is gentle and slightly childlike; the next moment hungry for blood with her precision aim. She stands five foot one in her black and white soft leather boots. Her smile is as noticeable as her white on black leather body armor and silver chain mail shirt. The Quiver of Ehlonna across her back seems like an extension of her own body from long use. Her exceptional skill with her bow is her strongest asset, second only to her natural Elven beauty. With her tendency to defend those around her quickly she may earn more than a passing nod, sometimes for the better...often though she finds her impulsivity causing her trouble. Fair faced and bright eyed she faces challenges with courage that she hardly knows she has.
Basha has been unwanted since her birth; yet somehow this has given her a deeper appreciation for life itself. Afterall, each breath is a victory for her kind. Her Elven mother was scorned for not drowning her at birth; and he father refused to acknowledge her existence. She is grateful for kindness and quick to seek attention. Often she is nervous and cannot seem to hold herself still. Never knowing any sense of security has left her this annoying trait. Instead of turning hateful toward the unwelcoming world, Basha has grown soft hearted in the face of suffering. Hating to see any sort of suffering, she finds herself jumping into situations that are beyond her skill to handle frequently.
On a quiet night resting by her lonely campfire you might find her quietly thinking dark thoughts...
If you could read those thoughts you'd know much...
She tucks her head down onto her knees and snuggles the blanket up over her thin pointed ears and watches the fire dance while watching it's life pulse and sway she thinks of the twists and turns of her own life...About growing up picking through waste and rubbish for her sustenance, about sorting through the parts of shops where no one watched for clothes to steal to try to keep herself warm when every household turned her out into the rain and darkness of the night...Her mean spirited mother who ridiculed her for her 'human weakness' and thrust her out of the 'loving fold' when she was just barely talking....The strange people who had helped and used her for their own purposes throughout her youth....and with a small smile of pride about her training with the Ranger Patrol that picked her up when she was still not a woman fully. She loved those generous men and women, more than she loved her own soul. They had trained her and treated her as a young sister for many years...until the plague that took them each slowly and painfully from her while she worked franticly to try to save them. None of her small healings could help and she has never felt whole since. She remembered leaving their graves behind and setting out on the old patrol tour, knowing that there was nothing left to protect in these wood except herself, the trees and the animals. She huddled close with her thoughts and wondered if she would ever again know a friendly hand that would not turn into a slap....