Tʜᴇ Fᴏʀɢᴏᴛᴛᴇɴ Rᴇᴀʟᴍs [Fᴀɴ Vᴇʀsɪᴏɴ]

A female elf with violet eyes, wearing a sweeping coat of layered kelp-lace and pearl-studded velvet, its colors shifting with the tune she plays. Her real hands are gloved and motionless in her lap, while a dozen translucent, floating hands ripple above her like a conductor’s storm, each playing her immense sea-weathered organ with unnatural grace.

Maedria is cryptic, poetic, and unfazed by madness. She sees fate as music—measured, structured, inevitable—and speaks in phrases that seem composed in advance. She delights in watching patrons “dance their endings,” and her empathy runs deep but alien, like a sea that mourns ships after sinking them.

Maedria Vellrune was once a concert virtuoso, beloved in the courts of Neverwinter and adored by noble houses for her delicate hands and perfect ear. But tragedy struck when she performed a sonata rumored to summon “the memory of forgotten gods”—a cursed piece etched in haunting chords. Her fingers withered after the final note, and spectral hands burst from her shadow, dancing over phantom keys. She fled civilization, fearing herself touched by something old and listening. She washed up at The Gargling Coin, drawn by the warped planar bleed and the bar's utter disinterest in curses. The tavern let her stay. A barge organ was salvaged from a wreck and installed on the mezzanine, where she now plays nightly—guiding games of fate with music no one quite remembers afterward. Some claim the hands she commands are memories made manifest; others say they’re hers, just detached from time.