Mor'ghan

“Mor’ghan-ri”

56 YEAR OLD FEMALE SUTHAY

UNKNOWN BIRTHDATE, ELSWEYR RAINFOREST, THE STEED

“You are dust, her eyes said. You are dirt. You are nothing. Why do you bother surviving? Why are you still alive?

I am the dust in your eyes was the answer in Hathin’s look. I am the dirt that will bury you. I am the nothingness waiting to open up under your feet. And I can hold on longer than you can.”  – Frances Hardinge, The Lost Conspiracy

PHYSIOLOGY:

A lean, shorter figure, easily unnoticed at first glance due to the deep black of her clothes. The hand-stitched leather and fabric has been torn and repaired endless times over the years, yet it’s obvious that the many battles this outfit has seen have done nothing to deter Mor’ghan from wearing it always. It’s a familiar comfort to her - the thick hood, the many hidden buckles and straps, all of it is only ever washed when she jumps in a lake or a river to escape after a heist.

Her face, hidden in shadow as it is, is fairly distinctive. Several sharp, raised scars stand out brightly against the cat’s dark brown fur like bright lines hiding dark tales. Three marks, obviously from a fellow cat’s claws, along her right cheek, and a long line trailing down from her left eye and disappearing into the fur and fabric around her chest. Probably the only thing that draws more attention are her eyes, a dark purple-pink color from some strange magical accident long ago.

Going down to Mor’ghan’s feet, her bare paws can be seen. She never wears shoes - her feet have been hardened through years of travel and it’s far easier to grip onto things when she can use her claws. Her feet are more black than brown, and crossed with tiny marks from the endless thorns that have been stuck in them.

The slight greying of the fur around her eyes and her always-tired circles are minor - so minor that one most likely won’t notice them. She hides any problems beneath charm and trickery - there’s no problem a winning smile and a wink with one of those strange pink eyes won’t fix.