Talla Oñati
Ranger
Talla Oñati
Species
Wood Elf
Appearance
Talla Oñati is a tall wood elf woman whose presence feels less like a soldier's arrival than weather moving through trees. Her face is narrow and wind-burnished, with a small scar crossing the bridge of her nose and a pale crescent beneath her left eye. Dark brown hair, threaded with premature silver, is pulled into a tight braid bound with waxed red cord. Her amber eyes rarely settle on a speaker for long because they are always measuring exits, branches, tracks, and the weight of silence. Rain beads on her weatherproof cloak without soaking through, while her leather armor smells faintly of cedar oil, bow resin, and old smoke. She moves with economical precision, yet her hands are unexpectedly gentle when repairing a child's toy, mending a bird's wing, or touching a grave marker.
“Low and economical, with a dry rasp at the edges. She pauses before important names, as if setting them carefully on a table.”
Ability Scores
Alignment
Distinguishing Features
Her longbow is carved with seventy-three fine tally marks, each representing a life lost during a Watch operation or suppressed investigation.
A narrow scar runs beneath her left eye, caused by a briar mass that briefly took the shape of a child's hand.
She wears a brass Azimut listening-spindle around her neck, though she refuses to explain where she found it.
Her left thumb is permanently stained dark green from years of handling leyroot salves.
She carries a small wooden animal carved by her dead brother, a clumsy fox with one ear missing.
Voice
“A low, weathered contralto, steady as a hand on a reins, with sudden warmth when she speaks to children and a flinty softness when naming the dead.”
Clothing
Moss-patterned studded leather armor beneath a weatherproof charcoal cloak, layered wool tunic, reinforced trousers, mud-caked field boots, fingerless gloves, red cord around her braid, and a belt fitted with field tools rather than decoration
Body Language
Talla stands with her weight balanced over the balls of her feet, shoulders relaxed, chin slightly lowered. Her fingers touch the tally marks on her bow when she is deciding whether to trust someone. When grief breaks through her discipline, she becomes very still, as though listening for a voice beneath the forest floor.
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