Aidessa “Gray” Valhardt d’Orien

Character’s Current Goals

  • Carve out a niche and livelihood in Stormreach
  • Come to an agreement with House Orien

At First Glance…

The woman who calls herself Gray hides behind the costume she wears, all high quality, oiled leather armor dyed the color of her nickname, with a masked helm under a deep hood. The medusa head breastplate and one-eyed helm are both made of the same scrubbed steel to provide a lusterless surface. She moves with a certain amount of confidence, atleast when her large-bladed glaive is close at hand.

How she will act in any given situation is hard to fathom, as her inner self is so convoluted and filled with conflicting emotions that any one of them are liable to surface, but she is sure to temper each response with the cool, intellectual logic that has always been her gift and often saviour.


Torn from her placid life and hopes of motherhood by a stillbirth. Shortly after, the curious obsidian face medallion she has kept as a bauble since a child advised her in it’s subtle way that it was time for her to take to the road. Her knife and walking stick was little match against the barghest that found her late one night at her crossroad campsite. The second thing to find her at that campsite was surprised that the heap amongst blood-soaked soil was still alive. The old man bound the numerous wounds, used a potion to bring her back to consciousness, and drove a glaive into the ground next to her. He introduced himself as The Walker before announcing that he must be on his way and advising she be more careful in the future.

The glaive seemed to be the last piece of a puzzle. With it now in hand the obsidian pendant whispered to her places where she could hide from the world, old ruins and forgotten pathways. In these places of refuge it also gave her training regiments. As long as she worked herself hard, to exhaustion most days, she was led to a safe place to stay the night. If she slacked in her practice, slipped in her discipline, she was reliably attacked in the night, each challenge more than the one before it.

The Last War was still raging when she completed her strange training, magic flowing through her blade, controlled with a discipline few could muster.

Picture Repository

Character Sheet
The Process



Eberron: A Fleeting Peace eviljoe