Backstory

Race: Oeridian

Family: Second child of Nicolas and Marianne Leofrinne, sister to Dorian, cousin to Brach. Grand-daughter to Cameron Leofrinne III by Eve Middras.

Birth and age: Patchwall 15, 555. 22 years old.

Home city: Devarnish

Worship: Cyndor and the favoured deities of the family. Wee Jas and St. Cuthbert often receive her prayers.

Profession: Devout member of the Cyndorian Church

Favored weapon(s): The Golden Rod of Aluk Kahalin, the Burden-Gift of Mordenkainen

Interests: Destiny, the philosophies around destiny, facilitating ambition.

"The grace of experience is that we learn to accept."

"Taught from infancy that beauty is woman's sceptre, the mind shapes itself to the body, and roaming round its gilt cage, only seeks to adorn its prison." - Mary Wollstonecraft, A Vindication of the Rights of Women, 1792 AD.

Appearance

5'8" / 145 lb

Kendra's raven-black hair and stunningly pale, flawlessly unblemished complexion make her seem intimidatingly untouched by any ill bar perhaps lack of sun. Her figure has become curvier since she joined the Church and grew older. She is not sylph-like, appearing solid. If she had more years on her she could be called matriarchal, a deception of posture and demeanour rather than of any physical strength.

Her eyes are pale and gray, but also bright and wide. Some would say that her colouring was washed out, but there is a wintery beauty to her looks that speaks of ice and stone. Her nose is aquiline and strong, but in good proportion to her other features.

Dress-wise Kendra veers toward practicality. Some tasks at the Church were often laborious or dirty and she lost pretensions toward impractical vanity during the years in which she tended her father. A billowy white shirt, and heavy linen trousers is her out-of-doors garb when on errands. Upon arrival to the Cyndorian Church outside of Devarnish, she was given by one of the brothers there a suit of banded mail. It had been lying unused in a storeroom of the temple for a long time with not purpose to it. She trained with it the years she was there and now wears it well, despite its weight, often shrouding it beneath her dusky rose travelling cloak.

Since adventuring with the party, Kendra has lost some weight. Her face has grown cheekbones where her cheeks have become less plump. She has also shaved her head of the raven-black hair that once grew there. She takes great care that it never reaches a length beyond a soft, felty down.

Personality

This girl of merely twenty-two years is mature and dutiful. There is perhaps precociousness to her sensibility. She is largely cool and collected when it comes to responsibilities. In relationships with others she is warm and not domineering, perhaps even submissive, except where that might over-rule her sense of right. However, submission in any other case does not mean indifference, and it is wise to consider the opinion of one who sits back to pass judgement.

Since adventuring, she has grown colder and easier to anger. She feels she carries a great burden, but is still looking for her Role in the wider world. This lack of Role means she is easier to manipulate by the various forces upon Oerth and beyond.

Brief history

Kendra Leofrinne never had a fonder wish than to leave for the Temple of Cyndor when she did at the age of seventeen. She left Marianne, her mother, little choice in the matter: she had organised a sponsor for her upkeep; she could argue of the education she would receive and she could speak of her genuine interest in the philosophy of her Patron. Her mother, hard-pressed by business on one hand, and the stresses of Nicolas' madness on the other could not summon the strength to refuse her daughter.

Kendra had smirked on that day, knowing that one less mouth to feed would no doubt ingratiate Cameron too. He was always hard to please.

She was in a corner of her mind sad to leave, but a calling is a calling and she believed it to be her path. Cyndor had been part of her life since she was ten, so neither was it a surprising destination.

The Temple outside of Devarnish was beautiful, as had been promised by her sponsor, the Rector of the church Kendra had been attending near to the Leofrinne Estate. Wysteria shrouded it, softening the monolithic edifice of the structure, yielding it to age. She remembers vividly the first time she walked beneath the arch of the main entrance, pushing the lacquered black doors open and seeing at the head of the atrium within the figurative sculpture of Cyndor, like that of a man whose block-like limbs had not been refined from their geometric beginnings. The Rector had followed her migration to the country, changing his post; he had been playing the harpsichord when she arrived. Ever the sound to enchant her. She felt more than welcome.

The library there was not grand or vast, but reserved to few carefully selected doctrines. Her education lay predominantly in schooling her thought along the roads these doctrines prescribed. The perception of what fate was and how predestination was tenable with the precognition of it perplexed her and she required answers. She was not the most gifted in thought, but she was gifted in application, and the mind of the Rector was most helpful in supplying her questions with answers.

She had called him Nicolas one day whilst he played the harpsichord. She was not sure whether he had heard her, for she quickly corrected the fault and he never spoke of it. Perhaps it was understood. Nevertheless, from the realisation of what that meant, she distanced herself from him, and spoke more to the other Brothers and Sisters of the Temple.

Be wary that her training was not merely in books and philosophy; she had come to the church with a martial ambition too, and the church was fortuitously equipped to provide. Weekly she sparred with one of her Ecclesiastical Brothers, a retired weapon's master from a wealthy Estate in Veluna City. She could not grow brilliant in the small time she committed to these sessions, but she learnt to suffer heavy armours and the sting of sweat in eyes and acid in muscle.

Her meditations at the temple often returned to thoughts of home. She knew she had matured beyond her carefree start to life. Her father's arising madness had hardened her spirit, for she took a large part in his care and saw much that was vulgar, obscene or heartrending. Dorian's death was the seal. He had just disappeared when he had been the rock around which she and Marianne had been tied. When she wondered how her mother was coping without them both she was struck with guilt; at times such as these she was mindful of her deity's axiom, of the importance of accepting one's place in the stream of life.

Augury. A moral balm. Moral balm indeed. She had heard her father's revelations and had not believed them to be anything but an unconscious stream of haphazard, inchoate, fetid platitudes. With the deaths of Great Aunt Elena and Caldred, they turned out not to be. Visions after that shaped her path. They led her to seek out the Rector she had heard preach so many times on the way to the cloth market. They led her to join his Church.

Cleric 11

Str 10

Dex 10

Con 12

Int 15

Wis 18

Cha 17

*Kendra normally wears the Circlet of Khet'ul, ripped from the body of the eponymous drow. This raises her intelligence to 17 and her wisdom to 20.