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Lyra of the Golden Lyre

A satyr bard of the College of Valor who composes epic poems and battle hymns celebrating Thylea's heroes. Lyra fights alongside warriors so she can immortalize their deeds in verse — and she's surprisingly lethal with a blade when inspiration strikes.

Level 3
Species

Satyr

Class

Bard (College of Valor)

Background

Entertainer

Alignment

Chaotic Good

Ability Scores

STR

10

+0

DEX

14

+2

CON

12

+1

INT

13

+1

WIS

10

+0

CHA

17

+3

Skill Proficiencies

History
Performance
Persuasion
Insight

Character Details

Backstory

Lyra grew up in the Oldwood among the fey-touched satyr communities that remember Thylea before the settlers came. While most satyrs are content with revelry and mischief, Lyra was captivated by the epic stories of mortal heroes — their brevity makes their courage extraordinary, she says, because they have so little time and risk so much of it. She left the Oldwood with a golden lyre gifted by an archfey patron and made her way to Mytros, where she began composing a new epic: the saga of the heroes who would face the returning Titans. She joined an adventuring company not just to observe but to fight alongside them, because the best epic poems are written by those who survived the events they describe.

Personality Trait

"I compose verses about everything happening around me, narrating in real time."

Ideal

"Art. A perfectly composed epic can make mortals weep and gods take notice."

Bond

"The epic I am composing will be Thylea's greatest poem. I need heroes worthy of it."

Flaw

"I sometimes prioritize a dramatic moment over a tactically sound one. Drama makes better verse."

Appearance

Gender

Female

Age

67

Height

5'5"

Weight

130 lbs

Eyes

Warm honey-gold

Skin

Olive, with light fur on the legs

Hair

Chestnut brown, wild and curly, adorned with laurel leaves

A bright-eyed satyr with small curving horns and furred legs ending in delicate hooves. She wears a toga-style garment of fine linen over light leather armor, and a magnificent golden lyre hangs across her back. A rapier sits at her hip, its pommel carved into a theatrical mask. Her hooves click rhythmically when she walks, as though keeping time to music only she can hear.