A tall, spare-built elf with pale olive skin, dark hair braided close at the nape, and keen gray-green eyes. She wears travel-worn robes beneath a practical chain shirt, with a small tarnished sunburst turned inward against her chest. When waiting, she rests her weight on the balls of her feet as if prepared to leave; her thumb repeatedly checks the knot of a narrow green cord around her wrist.

Quietly observant and difficult to impress, Selneth speaks with the measured care of someone accustomed to weighing every word. She is compassionate toward the sick and the frightened, but has little patience for institutions that demand trust without evidence. Her humor is dry, and her choices are often driven by curiosity before caution.

For decades, Selneth Vask served the Sanctuary, a monastery devoted to a goddess of life and light. Her long elven years made her a patient archivist and an exacting keeper of rites. She studied old prayers alongside forgotten histories, trusting the Five Knights who governed the Sanctuary to guard both. Her faith was not mere obedience. She tended the sick, copied fragile manuscripts, and believed the sanctuary’s warmth belonged to everyone who sought it. The truth emerged from the records she was asked to “correct”: the Knights had altered scripture, buried inconvenient accounts, and used the faithful’s generosity to tighten their hold on the surrounding communities. When Selneth confronted them, they called her doubts a sickness and tried to erase her work. She left with a few copied pages and the green cord once worn by a fellow archivist who helped her escape. Beyond the monastery, she found meaning in the goddess of rot and decay, a forgotten power that regards endings as part of life rather than a sin. Now Selneth studies that power with the same rigor she once gave the Sanctuary, and turns its lessons against those who profited from lies.