Name: Celiara Lin May

Race: Sprite - Fae-Folk

Age: Fifteen

Physical Description: Standing at less then 3 inches tall, Celiara is fairly tiny for fey-folk standards. Her injured wing tends to
make herself appear weak, but don't be fooled: her stubborn nature can make up for that disability. She has vibrant, blue eyes with
green undertones; a small waist, with a tiny chest; sharp facial feature; dark brown hair; and an appearance of wonder. Celiara dresses mostly in
small dresses, and refuses to go anywhere without her satchel of potions.

Personality: Innocent, naive and a little snarky, Celiara manages to
get herself into some fairly complicated situations: which commonly arise
from the pranks the young sprite pulls; the attempt to help another; and the major
arguments in which are caused by the irrational actions of her own. In truth, the sprite
is actually sweet, whenever in a relaxed mood: she can be compassionate when needed,
but is known to act like a know-it-all in minor, and major, situations - the kind of
of dilemmas in which Celiara barges into without consent, nor belonging. If someone were
to get to know the little lady better, they would most likely say that she doesn't mean
any harm. Of course, the little lady has a fair amount of flaws, including: clumsiness,
pridefulness, irrational risk taking, and the fear of races stronger then herself. She dislikes
giants, humans, orcs, and for an unknown reason, dwarves, with a passion. Although the little fae
has an injured wing, she refuses to be hand-held, believing it to be an insult beyond forgiveness. This
characteristic of hers has fueled to her prideful nature quite a bit.

Background: Celiara has a complicated past, but refuses to dwell on the little details. At thirteen years
of age, she escaped from an orphanage with no knowledge of her parents. In the beginning, she was considered
a beggar, but later built herself up as a journalist, and part-time explorer. Celiara refuses to have a home-base,
and travels for most of her living. Her story continues in the most unlikely ways.

Time Log: WIP