Lunaria Reardon

Lunaria Reardon of the City of Selnar, Imperial Cos, was not a woman easily overlooked.

A towering presence even among warriors, she was unmistakably of Torvaldsland stock—tall, broad-shouldered, and full-figured, with a commanding air that turned heads and hushed voices. Her body, though elegantly cloaked in the robes of a Physician, bore the silent testimony of a brutal history—riddled with scars earned through pain, survival, and sheer will. All were hidden beneath silk and discipline, save one: a thick, pale scar that cut across her throat, healed but impossible to miss.

Her hair, a shimmering waterfall of gold that fell to the floor when unbound, was worn in an elaborate updo—braided, twisted, and coiled into a crown of intricate knots and loops. It was both a mark of her heritage and a deliberate statement: no strand out of place, no detail neglected. She carried tradition with her, not as ornament, but as armor.

Icy green, laced with streaks of yellow like lightning frozen in glass. They watched the world with an intensity that unsettled and fascinated, the gaze of a woman who had seen too much, and remembered all of it. She was a healer of great skill, respected and long-practiced in her craft. Her touch could calm fever, stop bleeding, and steady even the most desperate heart.

But her own heart was another matter.

For all her strength, all her composure, Lunaria carried a longing she could not banish—a quiet ache for a man she could never claim. Whether by caste, duty, or fate, he remained beyond her reach. And so she kept her silence, as she always had, burying desire beneath routine, hiding sorrow behind skill.

A woman shaped by fire, healed by discipline, and wounded by love unspoken—Lunaria Reardon walked among them all as both legend and mystery