Naella Brennor

Naella Brennor, the Iron Note

From her very first scales, her masters heard that something was off: notes that rang like struck metal, a timbre far deeper than anyone expects from such a slip of a woman. On a stage, it unsettles people. At the bards' guild, it fascinates them, and more than one master makes the trip just to listen, curious to see what she will become. She has no idea herself. Off the boards, she keeps small, carries plain gear for a bard, and says yes under her breath. No one yet knows which of the two Naellas will win out.

Describe her

A small woman smiles at you before she even says hello, in a voice so soft you have to lean in to catch it. She apologizes for taking up space and steps back when anyone looks at her too long. Then someone gives her a stage. She closes her eyes, strikes the first string, and her voice hits you in the chest like a hammer on an anvil. She climbs the octaves without warning. The glasses tremble. The parlor singers fall silent.

Play her

Speak softly. Smile all the time. When the group suggests something reckless, say yes, barely audible, eyes lowered. Then never let go: the moment she commits, say her next line one notch louder than anyone else at the table, and hold that volume until the matter is settled, on a stage or at the edge of a chasm. And keep, underneath, that the shy one and the fury are the same woman: she never changes her mind, she changes her volume.

What she says (rarely)

(very quietly, smiling) "Yes. Well, if nobody minds."
"My masters say I sing out of tune. I sing in iron. That's different."
(already tuning her lute) "All right, I'm in. Now don't try to stop me."