Shadow of the Ancients / Run 006 / Main Story
Halie
Cleric
Halie, the weary cleric, stands firm amidst her companions, a beacon of measured conviction in a world gone mad. Her heavy mace is a comforting weight in her hand, its shaft worn smooth by countless battles fought for faith and reason. The violet light from the ancient tower's runes plays across her soft brown hair and gentle face, highlighting the stern resolve in her blue-grey eyes. She tries to hold the group together without becoming their servant, speaking with a quiet authority that commands respect even as she struggles with the weight of her own doubts. A small silver cross necklace hangs at her throat, a symbol of the moral compass that guides her every step.
In Halie's own words
I am Halie. I try to keep my faith steady in a world that seems determined to test it at every . My heavy mace is more than just a weapon - it's a tool for justice, a symbol of the strength I draw from within when the burdens become too great. But lately, even my prayers seem to echo back empty in the darkness. I speak with measured conviction because I know my words carry weight, and right now, this ragtag group needs someone to point them toward the light - not just the physical light of this world, but the spiritual kind that keeps us all from tumbling into madness. My gentle face might fool some into thinking me weak, but I've faced down things that would make stronger men quail. I won't be anyone's servant, least of all to the shadows that lurk just beyond our campfire's glow. But neither will I abandon those who trust in me.
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