Rowena Reed
Bard, College of Lore, 7th level
Rowena Reed
Species
Human
Appearance
Rowena Reed is a lean, expressive human woman whose presence seems larger than her body. Her warm hazel eyes are bright with sleepless attention, and fine lines at their corners deepen whenever she listens rather than speaks. Wind-swept dark hair is tied back with a crimson ribbon, though loose strands constantly escape and brush her cheeks like ink strokes. She moves with the quick, balanced gait of someone accustomed to catwalks, switchback stairs, and suddenly hostile crowds. Her hands are callused from hauling paper crates and repairing megaphone fittings. She smells faintly of wool, lamp oil, rain, and hot copper. The unexpected contradiction is her smile: it is generous and almost girlish, even when she is delivering an accusation that could bring an entire corporation to ruin.
“Her voice is clear, textured, and unusually carrying, with a low contralto foundation that can become a bell-like public declaration. She speaks quickly when improvising and slowly when naming the dead.”
Ability Scores
Alignment
Distinguishing Features
A thin burn scar circles her left wrist from a ruptured pressure line during the Red Rivet rescue attempt.
Her copper megaphone is dented along one side and bears thirty-one tiny black tally marks.
She carries a red thread tied around one finger for every active case she is pursuing.
Her lower front tooth is silver, a gift from an awakened dental automaton that she defended from decommissioning.
Her coat lining is covered with handwritten names, dates, and last known requests from workers who died under corporate authority.
Voice
“A resonant contralto with a warm rasp at the edges, capable of filling a gorge plaza without magical amplification. In private, it softens into a conspiratorial murmur. When she says a dead person's name, the force drains from her voice and leaves only tenderness.”
Clothing
A sturdy, travel-worn charcoal wool coat over a practical rust-red tunic, reinforced trousers, weatherproof boots, fingerless gloves, and a crimson hair ribbon. The coat's deep pockets overflow with broadsheets, petition scrolls, sealing wax, chalk, spare wire, and folded lists of names. A battered copper acoustic megaphone hangs at her hip in a leather sling.
Body Language
Rowena leans toward people when they speak, even across a crowded room. While arguing, she marks points against her palm with one finger at a time. When angered, she becomes very still except for the slow tightening of the crimson ribbon around her wrist. When grief breaks through her composure, she rubs the copper rim of her megaphone as if checking a pulse.
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