Styl Neinarte

=Quote= =Appearance= =Personality= =Backstory= She seemed the ideal warrior. Her agility was remarkable; here was one who truly felt how to dance with the blade, coursing like water around her opponents' attacks. Belying that seeming lightness, her magic was incredible; with a flick of her hand, she could clear vast swathes of a battlefield at once, a force of nature unto herself. And even when that arcane might ran out, she would never falter, pushing her way through her foes like a wildfire on its inexorable path of destruction.

If only she wasn't so damned mysterious.

Styl Neinarte was the perfect Eladrin warrior in every aspect but one, in that she didn't seem like a very good Eladrin. She never wept at the beauty of the stars; she never lost her temper in a brawl for dominance; she never even threw her hat in the air in celebration at the conclusion of the day's training. It was unnatural, was what it was. Like some kind of stone-faced shadow from beyond the moon, Styl was always simply... there. And then there's the matter of those eerie new spells she was experimenting with. What were her classmates supposed to think? Steinheart, they called her. If we're all being honest here, I have to agree. That girl just isn't right.

It couldn't be helped. There was simply no way we could send her out into our society like that - not if she never learned to let loose, like a real fey fighter, show everyone the color of her blood and laugh it off for once - you understand, don't you? That is not how things are done. Not at this institution. So, well, we had to make her... disappear.

Oh, don't look at me like that. No, no, she can come right back, after she's grown up a bit. You know how it is, with these younglings. A few beatings out there, a human or two she can raise and care for until it dies - do her a world of good.

Give it a century or two, she'll come right around. You watch.

Nothing like the proper fey way to solve a problem child. =Abilities= =Act One=