A slight, sharp-featured wood elf with tawny skin, moss-green eyes, and dark auburn hair cropped unevenly around the ears. Their clothing is a collection of carefully mended garments in muted browns and greens, reinforced at the knees and elbows. A weathered leather cuirass sits beneath a patched cloak, and a tiny brass bell hangs from a cord around their wrist, its clapper removed. Their hands are quick, scarred, and perpetually stained with ink, soot, or lock grease.

I notice what people overlook, remember every slight, and become fiercely protective of anyone who reminds me of the frightened children I used to know. I prefer clever solutions, quiet exits, and promises that can be kept. Though suspicious at first, I have a soft spot for lost animals, hungry strangers, and anyone trying to start over.

Lark grew up beneath the bridges and market awnings of a crowded river city, where an elf child was treated as either a curiosity or a nuisance. Their earliest lessons came from hungry years and dangerous streets. They learned which baker left a back door unlatched, which watchman accepted a smile instead of a coin, and which alleys belonged to gangs that valued silence more than blood. A retired locksmith eventually discovered Lark hiding inside an empty flour barrel and taught them the careful art of tumblers, tension, and patience. Lark repaid the lessons by stealing only from people who could afford to lose what they had. The city was never truly home, but it was the closest thing Lark had to one. When a fire swept through the poor quarter, Lark returned again and again through smoke and collapsing timber to rescue trapped children and recover the few belongings that mattered to their neighbors. Among the ruins, they found a sealed letter bearing an elven crest they recognized from a faded pendant left by their missing mother. The letter suggested that their family had been searching for them for years. Lark now travels beyond the city, taking dangerous work to pay for answers, while quietly sending stolen wealth back to the survivors of the burned district.