[Medium Sized Model - 25mm Base]

[Presupported with LYS files in 32mm & 75mm Scale]

A young elven woman born and raised in the warmth of a small treetop village. Her and her people had kept to ways of antiquity for millennia, and from them each finds a passage to being a Feywalker at their coming of age. For Synoria, her abilities are the status quo, to walk among two worlds is no different to her than swimming. Yet for others, she is seen as a master, one whose noble heart can only espouse modesty. She has become a mentor within the Feywalkers of Gwynevel as a result, though still feels herself to be a novice at heart.

Born high above the forest floor, amidst the tops of sunkissed canopies. Synoria’s earliest memories are walking along the warm wooden pathways of her treetop village, where leaves gilded by the sun’s warmth illuminated her home. Her people, the Brelameni, were those among the first of the Beremeni who claimed lineage to Calanel Thalias himself, the Dindar of antiquity who was the people’s link to Renmaeth, the mother of gardens. Even in the Age of Creation when their kin broke stone from the earth to build citadels and walls to prepare for the onslaught of Mindoriel’s armies, Synoria’s people instead retreated into the towering canopies above. They forsook any teachings of Tharanais that might lead to the scarring of Tharador, and instead clung to their ways of antiquity.

For millennia, they have remained in this stasis of progress, like a looking glass to the ancient eras when their people lived in harmony with the land. There they have been tucked away from the turmoil and strife below them. Their lives were simple, yet profound. They dedicated themselves to their stewardship of ancient knowledge, and when Renmaeth fell into her slumber in the First Era, the Brelameni were among the first to find passage into her Dreamscape, the Fey World. Thus it became tradition for their people that upon reaching maturity, they would be called to the sacred art of Feywalking.

For Synoria, stepping between worlds was as natural as breathing. From childhood, she had watched her elders vanish between shimmering veils, disappearing before her very eyes as their footsteps faded from one world and into the next. When her time came, neither hesitation nor fear stayed her step, and like all her ancestors before her, she quickly grasped the transformative art. Yet the young elf had a taste of freedom, of worlds beyond. She thus grew ill-contented with remaining in her small village. Though she had seen the world in the Fey, she knew nothing of the world beyond her village in the True World.

She found herself surprised that beyond the borders of her village, her abilities as a Feywalker were regarded with awe and reverence. Synoria had often thought of her talents as ordinary, simply a facet of who she was, as much as the colour of her eyes or the waves of her hair. Despite the recognition and respect that she garnered wherever she travelled, she remained humbly devoted to learning of the world beyond. Seeing herself as a master was something she was simply incapable of, yet those around her sought to learn from her; her humility being exactly what drew students to her. Synoria’ compassion and patience earned her a reputation that eventually reached the Feywalkers of Gwynevel, who thus inducted her into their ranks, giving her an opportunity to heal Tharador beyond the confines of her home village.

Now, Synoria continues to seek knowledge for herself and her people, not driven by ambition, but curiosity and a passion for all things green and good in the worlds she inhabits. Now she travels with her companions to the land of Formen, the furthest she has stepped from her homeland, both in the Fey and out. There she will find her greatest challenges, which will test her resolve in the face of great danger.