DnDOrigins: Rashana, a no-nonsense woman who lives off of her deceased parents' wealth. She's hardly a conversationalist, but she rarely cares what others think of her outside of her fighting skills.
From Create Your Own Story
The sunlight streamed as unwelcome merriness through the thin curtains on your windows. You groaned and rolled over in a futile attempt to block out the light with your pillow, but the day would have none of it and soon you ceded and sat up, yawning and stretching as you pushed aside your bearskin blankets. "Damn summer," you cursed, rather irritated, though this wasn't abnormal. You slid your legs off the bed, standing up and shivering as your bare feet pressed into the cold stone floor. "Damn stone, too."
It seemed like a waste to simply do nothing now that you were up, so you walked over to your mirror, looking at the sullen elf that stared back. You detested your small frame--it always caused people to dismiss you easily as some flouncy girl. This was one of the main reasons for your hard training as a paladin. Well, that and the fact that once you began, you'd realized that you actually enjoyed the feeling of dense metal on your shoulders and a heavy greatsword in your hands. It made you feel strong, intimidating. More than a lucky merchant's daughter, which was what you were for the first sixteen years of your life.
You moved across the room to the chest where you kept your equipment, not bothering to change from the tunic you'd slept in as you took out the steel plate armor that awaited and began to buckle it on. Though for an untrained body the armor might seem uncomfortable and even hindering, for you it fit far better than any dress or robe, and felt far better as well. But now you needed to decide what to do with your day--it seemed a waste to simply sit around.
