A tall, powerfully built dragonborn woman with deep cobalt-blue scales, a long blunt muzzle, swept-back horns, and a thick tail balanced for sudden movement. Her scales are polished carefully along the face, shoulders, and forearms, while the rest bear the dull weathering of years spent traveling in harsh country. She wears her dark hair in a severe braided crest threaded with small brass beads, a style inherited from her father's stage costume. She has no wings. Her eyes are bright silver, and faint blue sparks sometimes crawl between her teeth when she is angry. Though descended from a dragon, she cannot breathe fire. Her draconic breath manifests as a crackling cone of lightning instead.

She is blunt, physically affectionate with trusted companions, and bewildered by subtle social maneuvering. She tries very hard to behave like a refined noblewoman, but her idea of courtly grace is standing perfectly still while threatening everyone in the room. She loves music, though she has no sense of pitch, and becomes quietly delighted whenever someone praises her father's work.

She was born without a name in a mountain manor where no one could agree whether she was an heir, an omen, or an elaborate scandal. Her mother was a blue dragon who wore the shape of a woman only long enough to leave an egg in the keeping of a human bard named Oren Vale. Oren raised the hatchling between tavern stages and noble courts, teaching her songs, etiquette, and the practical value of knowing exactly who owed whom a favor. He called her Daughter when he was proud, Storm when he was frightened, and nothing at all when he was trying to conceal her existence from curious aristocrats. Her lineage brought her a noble household, but not a comfortable childhood. Courtiers expected a graceful lady and received a broad-shouldered young dragonborn who solved insults by lifting the insulter over a balcony. Her formal education ended after she destroyed a fencing gallery during a lesson, after which she was sent to serve as a caravan guard under the pretense of gaining discipline. There she discovered that rage could become something more useful than temper. In battle, she learned to stand between danger and people who could not survive it, and she learned that a title was less valuable than being the person others trusted to remain standing. She now travels without a name, waiting for one that feels earned rather than assigned.