PCs:Selle Galleaf

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Selle Galleaf


Race: Half-Nymph

Gender: Female

Age: Appears 20-something

Origin: A glade somewhere in T'Nanshi

Parents: Nymph mother, Yeoman father.

Religion: Verossa

Nicknames: Bitch

Interests/Agenda: Preservation through Destruction


Common knowledge & reception:

  • The priestess doesn't speak of her past, or doesn't need to. There is a small carved tree near her home in Zvidureth that may offer some clue to her annals.

  • Less chaotic than the average road Verossan, Selle is like the brewing storm, the smoking volcano, her many years as a druidess honing her power over her own entropy. Often commanding and impatient, her fey blood does betray her among close friends where her sense of humor and thrill-seeking antics eek out. Prone to acidic comments and insults, she is no pillar of social etiquette. It seems her years steeped too long near civilization have trained her spirit, if not her tongue. Being that a Daughter of the Storm Mother is only as beloved as she is unruly, many wonder why the priestess chose so many binding paths.
  • Selle had openly close relations with those in the Dru'Elite Church, and Le'Nofaythen. The Drotid War was a perfect opportunity for those in her religion to spread Destruction, and she formed alliances and friendships accordingly, growing close to the Kiffs for a time- a time when she was also close with Priestess Storm. She was very sweet with the raven-haired nanshin Wolf, but also tended company with a mysterious Sereg'wethrin after the war. Some of her dearest companions were fellow Verossans and Avengers, but these days she is quite solitary, blending her days and seasons into blurs as she wanders the mountainsides in elemental embodiment.

Verossan Conflict:

After hundreds of years of opposition from the Verossans to nearly anyone venturing into the forest, former High Priestess Storm and Selle spread a new message to the young druids that taught them to unite with their fellow woodsfolk against a common enemy (the shaahesk), instead of attacking their own nanshin brethren. This lead to a brief but peaceful period where the Verossan Druids did not attack travellers, but unfortunately it was soon undone.

Storm disappeared, with a new priestess named Francheska claiming the title for herself. The High Priestess also sent the message out among adventurers and Verossans alike that the old ways of the Mother's children will not be swayed- Selle and Storm were false prophets and they had to be be hunted. Even Selle's former friend Zet, the Hand of Verossa was seen openly insulting and attacking her. It was soon discovered that Francheska's hatred and fury for her fellow brethren was caused by Storm who had gone mad and murdered Francheska's mother and sister.

When she wasn't able to find Storm herself, Francheska asked Selle to bring her the old priestess' head, saying only then would her fury be calmed, would her druids stop attacking everyone in their path, and would Selle return to favor within the church. Selle refused and passionately defended her former priestess, making public displays of opposition to Francheska with propoganda and killing all of her druids she could find. Selle never found Francheska but she also never found Storm.

Until a fateful day on top of the Zvidureth hill when Zet attacked Selle speaking with a crowd there. After both of them were killed and then risen, Storm finally appeared above their bodies. She was angry that the two who were once close now fought each other, but she quickly turned her anger on the others in the crowd gathered around her. Storm's madness seemed incurable and when she drew her weapon to attack she was finally killed by Fletcher Millstone.

With Storm's death, Francheska's family was avenged and she renounced her title as High Priestess. Selle was in mourning for a long while, a certain spark she had was smothered by a quiet sadness.


  • Visage: With a small, delicate jaw, clean skin, and watery hazel eyes she might just have sprung from youth. Her cheeks stay flushed and the blood is always beneath her lips, making the flesh pleasantly dark against a pale face. Hair as green as the darkest vines tumbles in tangles around her shoulders, and there is something quite chaotic about her.
  • Clothing: Very little.