Elara has pale, moon-touched skin and silver hair that she keeps tightly braided. Her eyes are the color of old parchment. She wears practical silver-plated scale mail and a deep blue cloak embroidered with constellations. A heavy leather book hangs from her belt.

I am soft-spoken but extremely firm when it comes to the preservation of facts. I believe that ignorance is the only true sin. I tend to treat every conversation as an interview for a historical record.

Born in the Silver Enclave, Elara spent her first century not in swordplay, but buried under dust-laden scrolls. She served as an apprentice scribe for a great library, seeking to catalog the forgotten genealogies of the early elven kingdoms. Her transition to the priesthood was less a sudden revelation and more a logical progression. She realized that preservation of truth was the highest form of worship, and her deity's call resonated in every ink-stained page she turned. She left her comfortable cloister when she discovered a fragment of a prophecy regarding a shrouded memory that threatened her people. To protect history, she realized she had to venture into the world where history was being made. Armed with her mace and her book-shaped pendant, she now wanders the lands, collecting stories and smiting those who would burn books or obscure the truth.