Matiz de Terlinjua

I was born in Terlinjua, a quicksilver minin’ town that ain't on any maps. My father coveted the gold-flecked soil my mother wore around her neck, and killed her in an attempt to steal it. He was exiled in chains, to perish in the desert. I wear the soil now.

My grandparents raised me — kindhearted, roughspun, and determined to raise me to be curious and clever. My grandma swore we were kith and kin with the Fae. I wrote it off as fireside embellishment, but the scorpions never stung me and the gardens grew where they shouldn't, so somethin’ in me believed ‘er.

At thirteen I smooth-talked my way onto an occultist's caravan with nothing but the clothes on my back and my ma’s soil pendant. Rodrigo, an Andoran out of a broken free company, taught me the blade: a man, his senses, and no formation. That flamboyant feller also taught me that one's garments are his brand. I took that seriously, and whimsically. Sebastian, the trader's son, taught me herbs and bows, and for two years we cultivated a secret love. His father caught us. I ran the same night with a turquoise stone in my fist – a parting gift from my lover. I ain't put it down since.

Life took some turns after that – changin’ towns in Terres du Sud every year or so. Workin’ for big-hat hoitie-toities with relics that need movin’ or guardin’.  

Things started to settle down in 1018 when I started working with a witch called Ciroc the Poisoner. I gathered ‘er reagents, fought ‘er foes. ‘Til one night in Andore when I got ambushed in camp. Someone (still ain't sure who) sent thieves for my ma’s old pendant. Seekin’ solitude and wilderness, I claimed an old abandoned cottage in Boistfort, a day's walk from Bois Rouge. I spent four years weaving, dyeing, and reading poetry to the critters. They understand me.

Ciroc found me there in Spring 1026 with a party in town and contract with Redemption. Something about the eclipse. I came to Bicolline as a hired blade. My first few moments of battle, a bee – ok me of my little critter buds – stung me!! Kinda shockin’ to tell ya the truth. 

I didn't feel no pride after that battle, and saught the advice of some fae. A bird-demon fella named Songbird told me I'm ~gay touched~ or somethin’ like that – that I'm one of them, kith and ken.

The next mornin’, I found myself followin’ some butterflies though the camps at Bicolline. I found a joyous gathering of sharp-dressed folks communing with critters like family: L’Enclave de la Chrysallide. Can't think of a time I felt so welcomed! We broke bread, shared a pipe, communed with nature – they even complimented my outfit. I came back the next day. And the next. Then, on the last night before my trip back to Andore, I asked them whether a stray cowpoke with fae blood and no house could find a place among them. Graciously, and to my great pleasure, they welcomed me. 

In the time since, Matiz has adopted L'Enclave and the Swarm as family. 

Bugspeed!