Mora Gwenllin

Deep within the Wild Woods, on the southern border of Saer, resides a creature as much myth as flesh. This creature, whom those that live near the forest both fear, and respect, resides amongst the old trees and darkened vales of the woods. It is believed that this thing, as much a force of nature, walks untouched by any beast or mortal blade, and has the very earth at their command to send those that trespass into the depths of their own sudden graves. Who is this thing that makes woodsmen leave offerings, the Church of the Dawn give a wide berth, and the supposed birthplace of a growing resistance?
  It's name is Mora Gwenllian, the Green Lady and Mistress of the Wild Wood. She is a being of recent folktales, whispered in hushed tones around campfires and tavern hearths. Mora is the embodiment of the untamed, a powerful wich whose existence is intertwined wit the very lay lines of the word Her legend tells of a tall, striking figure, standing at an imposing 6’3, olive skin, with hair of a mezmerizing cascade of green, interwoven with leaves and wild berries, a living testament to her connection with the wilds. It is said to look on her is to be both marvled by the beauty of nature, but the deep dread of what that entails, her eyes seeming to pull those primal fears of mortals to the forefront.
  But beauty alone could not define Mora. She is a paradox, a wonderous sight to behild, yet a subject of abject terror. For years, she has been a thorn in the side of the patriarachial Church of the Dawn, whose reach extends far and wide. No witch hunter or inquisitor who dared step foot into her woods ever returns alive. The Wild Woods serves as her sanctuary, an ancient imprenetrable fortress of magic and cunning traps. The church has dubbe her the Green Lady, for she is said to weild the power for the very earth she dwelled upon. Mora’s magic is boundless, her connection to the ley lines allowing her to command the forces of nature, from the tempestuous winds to the thriving flora. The people of Saer speak of her with reverence, for she has become a symbol of resistance against the oppressive forces that seek to oppress the old way.
  But… with every legend, there is a darker truth.
  Beneath the shroud of legends and myth surrounding Mora Gwenllian, there exists a secret that only she and a chosen few know of. Contrary to the talks of her being a walking avatar of nature, Mora is in fact a mortal being. Flesh and blood, not wood and sap. Her immortal image is carefully woven tapestry of enchantments and illusions, a protective façade she had meticulously nurtured to safeguard herself and the safe havens hidden deep within the Wild Woods.
  The heart of her secret, however lays in the unbreakable passage of time. Mora had been born into an old noble family, and her connection to the Wild Woods was not the result of fate, but of choice. What few know was that she had once been the sister of the late Queen of Saer. Her sister had lived the life of fairy tales, having fallen in love with a young prince, and the two became a love-match of bardic songs. She on the other hand left her noble’s home and removed herself to the wilds to live a life without the constraints of nobility, duty, and restricting tradition. There, in the isolation of the forest, she found her true self, her happiness, and she was without worry. Sadly, tragedy would not let the world move without it’s dark touch. The royal couple were unable to bear a child, and her sister pleaded her for help. So, as an act of true sisterly devotion, Mora decided to become a surrogate for the king and queen. For nine months, the new heir of the kingdom grew inside her, connecting with Mora in a way no other living creature ever could. Her parting with the child was one of the most difficult things to ever afflict Mora’s entire life.
  Then, as if the hand of fate was being particularly cruel, the king and queen were murdered in a failed uprising. This left the child-prince without a loving mother, father, or a true guardian to keep him safe. Without any true protection, the Church of the Dawn seized the capital and put him under their custody. Mora, far outside the city, is powerless to protect her child, and it has driven her to near madness. If it were not for her coven, she would have been consumed in the deepest realms of fury.