Maize

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Maize was once a traveling healer who worked primarily in shadow territory. She would travel from flight to flight, clan to clan, offering her services in exchange for food, shelter, and currency. She had no intention of settling. Clan life simply wasn't for her, it was too restricting and she much too enjoyed life on the road.

Maize loved what she did. Sharing her passion for knowledge and using the abilities she had worked so hard to master was more than enough to keep her happy.

On a particularly crisp, windy morning in mid August Maize encountered her next resting point. The clam that she came upon was struggling with an outburst of upper raspatory infections and of course Maize knew just the cure: a fairly common mix of medicinal herbs. She arranged a trade with the clans leader: her medicine for a place to sleep overnight, decent meal and a small payment of gold and gems. The desperate leader accepted her offer and Maize began crafting. Unfortunately, even the most experienced alchemists make mistakes. Maize was exhausted as the journey between resting points had been long, and in her tiredness she became lazy and failed to take proper precautions such as protective eyewear. All it took was one strong gust of wind and Maeve was choking on hogweed-- a toxic plant that she'd just taken the time to grind into a perfectly fine powder, easily swept up by even the slightest breeze. The result from such an armature mistake would cost her the ability to see.

The blindness was a gradual yet permanent loss. While her sight was still adequate enough for her to function without strife she began her journey towards the Arcane realm in search of a clan that she hoped would offer her hospitality, a clan that she believed harbored her sister whom she'd never intended on meeting again. Maize set out immediately, knowing that she was running on borrowed time. The realization that she would never preform her talents again-- the talents that she worked so hard to perfect-- sent her in a spiral. During her travels-- after a full cycle of grief leading to the acceptance of the inevitable-- she began feverishly writing a series of books containing all of her knowledge on alchemy and the art of crafting potions. She wanted her knowledge to outlive her, to help and guide others when she herself became useless. While she slaved over her newfound purpose-- the books-- poured blood, sweat, tears, and every spare second of every day that she could muster into her writing, she was never able to finished the books. Her sight deteriorated faster than she'd anticipated and her writing became illegible as the books progressed.

When she finally arrived to her destination her sight was almost completely gone. She was no longer able to write, she was no longer able to travel. The life of adventure that she had grown accustomed to was no longer.

She introduced herself as Maize the alchemist and quickly discovered that Maeve -- the younger sister that she had set out to find--knew nothing of her existence. No stories or rumors, not a single clue. Maize was a complete stranger to her. It was too late to turn back. Maize settled. The books she wrote were passed on to her sister and from scratch the two began building a relationship with one another, starting as blood relatives, working their way towards sisters, with hope that they would one day become friends.

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Maize is blunt and straightforward. No matter how sensitive the topic of conversation, if her opinion is asked, she will tell it how it is. Settling into a routine has proven to be difficult for the free-spirited skydancer. Familiarity has never been something that Maize prioritized or sought after, she loved the diversity that came with travel, the new experiences and unique encounters that came with her job, but now that everything has turned upside-down all she wants is the comfort of something familiar. Since her arrival most of her time has been spent in the confinement of her den. She's having a hard time adjusting to the constant darkness that follows her but on sunny days she emerges from her cave to bask in the sun. When its bright enough she can make out faint shapes if the contrast between lights and shadows is drastic enough and occasionally she can catch the movement of silhouette. She's terrified of the dark so at night she stays huddled in the corner of her den, ensuring that nothing can sneak up behind her and catch her off guard.

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"No one is to blame. It is neither their fault nor ours. It is the misfortune of being born when a whole world is dying."