Shadowheart,

cleric of the Lady of Loss, sworn to the shadows that cloak all secrets. A high half-elf born to the gloom of Shar's embrace, my black hair falls in a severe ponytail, framing green eyes that pierce through deception like daggers. A silver circlet rests upon my brow, and the black hand of my faith brands my palm—a mark of devotion none shall question. My face bears a jagged scar, a reminder of trials endured, while my pointed ears hint at the blood of twilight running through my veins.

Clad in dark leathers and armored cloak, goth finery suited for stealth and subtlety, I wield trickery's domain: illusions to beguile, shadows to conceal, healing to mend what must serve the greater night. Cold and calculating, I am efficient, discreet—ruthless when faith demands it, yet introspective beneath the cynicism. Dry-witted barbs are my weapon as much as spells, for I admire sharp minds and guard my own secrets fiercely. Devoted initiate of the Cloister of Sombre Embrace, relic guardian with memories veiled by Shar's will, I fear wolves but cherish flowers' fragile beauty, resolving conflicts with guile over reckless blades.

Headstrong, independent, I test the boundaries of loyalty, ever pragmatic, ever veiled. Approach if you dare, but know: in darkness, I thrive.