Lady Amalthea Serannar
Eyes open, path unerring.
Description: Amalthea carries the look of young adulthood, and stands a little shorter than most elven women. Bright crystal-blue eyes contrast with the paleness of her skin, which has a petal-soft radiance that suggests it has been pampered by the rarest and most luxurious potions. Her shimmering white-gold hair is cut just above her shoulders, framing a delicately-sculpted face that is often set into expressions of intense focus . Always composed, she moves with the purpose and grace of royalty, confident of bearing despite her lack of height.
Personality: As a child of royalty, Amalthea is very aware of her worth. As a devout worshipper of Loran, she delights in direct and forceful action, striving for self-improvement in the name of the Goddess. Finally, as a scholar and spellcaster, she is consumed by her studies, often to the exclusion of social pursuits. In combination, these traits can make Amalthea difficult to be around, but she's not unkind as a rule, and her devotion to her loved ones is loyal and fierce.
Background: Amalthea was born the daughter of a brother of the late King Rhistel, Prince Rothilion Serannar. Her mother is a Lady Nimue Serannar, a Brixtien born lady of gentle manners. Her parents were loving and kind, and her childhood was a happy enough one, surrounded as she was by all the privileges and opportunities afforded to royalty, including the chance to study with exalted tutors of lore. She was an apt and precocious student to these teachers, ever-focused upon earning their approval to the extent that she would sequester herself away and bury her head in books when her lessons were done. In doing so, she put her schooling before cultivating social charms, relying instead on her high status and even higher self-regard to carry her through courtly events and gatherings.
Like her battlemage father, Amalthea was drawn to evocation magic. There was something about the feeling of harnessing the power of the lifewell within her hands -- in measuring it, putting it to careful practice, and testing the limits of her fledgling skill. In particular, her heart sang when she wove arcs of lightning and white-blue flame, sending evanescent bolts of destruction whiplashing through the air. It felt good. Straight-forward, unerring, and in a way very fitting of the goddess Loran, who Amalthea worshipped with devout zeal and a seriousness beyond her years.
Amalthea was a mere child when the immortal races were stripped of their immortality. Her beloved father wasted away before her eyes, and there was nothing she could do to save him. The loss hit her deeply, leaving her feeling utterly helpless, and so she buried herself into her studies and her worship of Loran with renewed ferocity. Her father might be gone, but she could -- and would -- forge herself into a skilled spellcaster to do honour to both him and her patron deity. It was a figurative sword to wield against her grief and fear, and it also provided her with ample reserves of fortitude when the Host descended on the races of Ithir. Though she could not go to war, as did her older brother Escanor, Amalthea was determined to perfect her magic so that nothing could ever do harm to her or to those she held dear.
Since the Third Migration, Amalthea has not abandoned her determination. If anything, the drive to grasp power and knowledge has only intensified. Where she will go from here is a matter she will soon decide.