I write a lot of character sketches trying to find the characters that intrigue me the most. Here’s one I wrote a few years ago about an unlikely adventurer. I hope you like it.

Sister Lorielei Alterian stalked the hallways of the dormitory, fuming after the meeting with the Patriarch. She’d been expecting a meeting for weeks, but not this meeting. Here she was, close to retiring to tend the gardens and orchards, and Father Byron had the nerve to hire her out to make sure a group of bounty hunters had a healer. Bah! That dubious “honor” should go to Sister Alysia. Lorielei knew for a fact that Alys would jump at the chance to travel beyond the walls of the House of Healing.

Lorielei thought back to earlier in the day.

She glanced at the figure leaning against the wall in Father Byron’s office. The man stood head and shoulders above her. He towered over most elves. He had the physique of a fighter, though she saw no visible weapons. His scarred face showed little. Loriel noted a slight under-bite to his jaw, and his lower canines protruded more than they ought. A part-orc then.

That surprised her, considering the elves of Rithraunen had little commerce with them. Most were savages, though this man had an air of nobility about him. She wondered what business he had with the Patriarch and why he had summoned her.

“Ah, Sister Lorielei,” Father Byron rose from his desk, crossing the room to greet her. “Come in, come in,” he said as he guided her to one of the leather-bound chairs before his desk, then resumed his own seat. His tone set Lorielei’s teeth on edge. “This is Argaron of House Trivesh. He is on a… critical mission, and has come in need of a healer. Mother Josslyn has nothing but praise for your abilities. I thought this would be an excellent opportunity for you to showcase your knowledge, skills, and experience.” This last he said in a rush.

“Greetings, Sister.” The half-orc gave a slight bow in her direction. His voice wasn’t as deep as she thought it should be, considering his heritage.

“Master Argaron,” she said, turning to him, ignoring Father Byron. She inclined her head to the half-orc, voice tight. “Please, enlighten me as to the nature of your employ. I understand you have need of the best of us. As you can see, I am quite past my youth and have traveled little in the last centuries.” Lorielei swept her hands down her robe. “What can an old healer give you that one of our younger, more active acolytes cannot?”

“The wisdom of your years, and your knowledge of the healing arts, m’lady.”

Lorielei snorted at that. “That is about all you would get, good sir. Do I look as though I can wield a weapon?”

“No, m’lady. And I need a healer, not another fighter.” Argaron gave her a quick overview of his quest. “I have a commission to find and recover specific… relics of the five regions. I am authorized to hire those with the skills required to assist in this endeavor. The healing skills of this order are famed throughout the lands. Besides, this quest needs someone with your knowledge of the history and faiths of the various regions.”

She regarded the part-orc, skepticism showing plainly on her face. Lorielei glanced at Father Byron. His eyes pleaded with her. She’d seen that look before, and didn’t like it.

“I’ll think about it.”

“But…” interjected Byron, half rising from his chair.

“I said: I’ll think about it.” With that, Lorielei rose and left the Patriarch’s office.

Now she paced. She had taken the long route back to the dormitory through the gardens and around the pond as she contemplated Master Argaron’s invitation. As she was wont to do, she looked at the request from all sides, just as Father Byron knew she would.

She was well beyond her prime; the ache in her bones told her that much. But if she were to be brutally honest with herself, her mind had been growing restless over the last years. She couldn’t exactly call it boredom, but Lorielei felt it bordered on boredom.

Should she stay, they would fill her days with the same tedious tasks she’d performed for decades upon decades, century after century. She would remain in her cozy dormitory room, surrounded by the things that were familiar to her. Should she journey with this Argaron, and whomever else he might dig out of the ditches, she would certainly see more of the world than she had ever seen in her life. Then again, would they find an inn each night? The thought of sleeping on the ground beneath the open sky sent a shudder through her thin frame.

Lorielei spent the evening in prayer, asking for guidance from her goddess. And woke the next morning no closer to an answer than when her head lay on her pillow as she stared into the darkness. Her innermost self leaned strongly toward following this man, yet her sense of comfort with the familiar rebelled with equal force. The more she trod the paths of the monastery, the more her mind turned to what supplies she would need on the road. As she considered her future, she realized she stood before the Patriarch’s office. Maybe the goddess was telling her she needed to follow this mysterious half-orc.

“Sister Lorielei?” asked Father Byron. “Have you chosen?”

“Aye.” Lorielei’s heart pounded as she entered the office, closing and leaning on the door behind her, aware of another presence in the room. “The prospect of facing danger in the wilderness scares me more than you know.”

Byron’s shoulders sagged, but Lorielei held up a hand when he opened his mouth to speak.

“Allow me to finish, Father.” Taking a deep breath, then looking down at her hands, she continued, “however, my mind keeps returning to what I shall need to travel with Master Argaron.” She raised her eyes to the Patriarch’s. “I would ask that the monastery provide what protection and material components I will require for this journey.”

Father Byron’s face lit up. “You don’t know what this means for the order, Sister Lorielei.”

“For the order, Father, or for you?” Lorielei startled herself, as well as Father Byron, with that question.

The Patriarch looked at her through narrowed eyes. “You are more astute than Mother Josslyn gives you credit for.”

“I hear as much, Father Byron, of what is not said as I do of what is said.” Her eyebrows lifted slightly as she smiled at the man behind the desk. Turning to acknowledge the figure seated near the fireplace, she said, “Master Argaron, if you please, I would ask your guidance for this journey. It has been more than seven centuries since I traveled the greater world beyond the village, so require advice from an experienced warrior. Mind you, Master Argaron, I have no intention of raising a weapon in battle other than to defend my life.”

“I would expect nothing more, m’lady,” replied the half-orc with a smile, rising from the plush chair. “I would be glad to assist.”

In the end, Father Byron had the House provide an amulet of protection. He also made her wear a studded leather shirt for protection and gave her a magic ironwood staff. Mother Josslyn gave her a pouch filled with the material components she might need to cast protection spells. She provided enough gold to purchase the components she would inevitably need and not have.

Ready or not, Sister Lorielei was as prepared as she would ever be for her first adventure in more than half a lifetime.