I am Battlemaster Elvina Jin’carn’vin’sora. I once served in the great elven kingdom of Hirn. The kingdom is no more and I find myself wandering the planes in search of a purpose. At first I may seem stern and a little harsh, but I assure you that it is only at first. I’m actually a very nice person.

As a Battlemaster I am trained in both the martial and magical arts. Not to sound overly proud but I am very good at both. I do not draw my blades lightly so I will likely resort to magic if something needs done.

My journeys have shown me many worlds and many peoples. I have learned not to judge a creature’s worth at first sight. I have also learned to take a joke. I always had a sense of humor, but in Hirn one did not mock a Battlemaster. Another thing I have learned is that I cannot demand respect when I walk into a room as I once could.

(That dress weighs about 75 pounds thanks to stupidly heavy metal.) (if the idea of the dress doesn't clear it up she is considerable stronger than she looks.) (Cultural note. Touching her ears without permission is a good way to get hurt. If she's having sex with you she probably won't say anything but if she's not then you had better be on extremely good terms with her or prepared for a fist in the face. Ears are an intimate thing to her people.)

My life? Well that is a long story.

I was born the third of four children. My brother was a bit of an ass right up until the moment we discovered that I had considerable magical potential. And by discovered I mean I almost launched him through a wall when he prodded me one time too many. Not that I’m usually a violent person. He had it coming. I went to train with a master of the magical arts and as I developed we discovered that my physical abilities were considerable as well. In came the Battlemaster’s and the next 50 years of my life were devoted to joining their ranks. Not really a request. Not that one would refuse the honor. Though during the training one often questions if the honor is worth the toil. Not a pleasant 50 years. Lots of work and little acceptance of failure. After I became a Battlemaster my power and skill quickly elevated me through the ‘ranks’. Not that there were actual ranks. You simply deferred to the grater in the room. It was never a challenge. You knew who was better than you and you accepted it. There were only a few that didn’t defer to me and I thought many others shouldn’t have. The next hundred or so years were spent doing what little actually needed down and other than that just living. I do like to live. Not all my entertainments were good and some were actually to the detriment of others. But no one is perfect.

I was barely 170 when the war broke out. A horrible war of hate. Undeserved hate. We had done nothing but give to the rest of the world and yet their jealousy for our magic made them turn their machines on us and wage a war of extinction. They had weapons that destroyed our cities. Machines that fought for them. The only way we could have been victorious was to wage the same kind of war and we refused to do so. There was one other hope, but that came too late and all was lost before it could be brought to bear.

I was the one sent to retrieve it. When I returned our last city was but ruins. My people were gone. What few of us may be left were likely being hunted down. I then let rage take me and did some things I’m not proud of. Things like what they had done to us. Cities burned to ground. One day I destroyed a city of some 10 million souls. The scent of that death and destruction shocked me back to my senses. Having nothing left there but unquenchable anger, I turned toward the other planes and began my travels. Not yet 200 and all alone in the great endless and yet infinitesimal universe.

Recent IC developments have lead to a discovery concerning the source of her power. No spoilers though.