Kindly and motherly elder Storm Lord


Small of stature for an Uratha, her age belied by her appearance the woman could pass for a youthful grandmother in her 60s, when you know her to be lucky enough to claim several greats to her honorary title as mother. Her greying auburn hair drapes her face, the early signs of wrinkles playing are the corners of her eyes and mouth. Wrapped in a shawl faded with age and use she has always been soft spoken, though you can’t recall an instance where she has ever needed to speak loudly, her words have always brought about silence from those in attendance. Her bright blue eyes have always been comforting, welcoming, they sing of home.



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