Arielle Thorne

Arielle’s childhood was spent along the fringes of a great forest, where the trees whispered in the language of wind and leaf. She learned to listen before she learned to speak, to observe before she acted. Her parents were caretakers of a small, hidden workshop tucked beneath a canopy of ancient oaks, where they repaired tools, measured wind, and crafted simple devices from scavenged parts. From them she inherited a relentless curiosity and an unyielding resourcefulness: if a thing existed, there was a way to repurpose it. As a teen, a harsh winter forced the family to ration supplies and improvise, teaching Arielle the value of usefulness and resilience. When a fever swept through the nearby village, she found herself drawn to healing, studying herbs and basic remedies she could teach herself to craft. Her talent caught the attention of a wandering cleric who recognized her reverence for nature and her knack for making things work. She joined the clerical order not out of a thirst for temple status, but to learn how to mend what is torn and broken in the world around her—whether it’s a village well, a wounded tree, or a child’s torn coat. Her crafting is more than utility; it is a philosophy: to accept the world’s imperfect materials and still coax them into something useful, beautiful, and protective. Yet beneath her calm exterior lies a hidden potential—an untapped power that radiates softly when she concentrates, hinting at a far greater magic she has yet to awaken. Arielle travels lightly, listening for signs of disturbances in nature, always ready to lend her hands to friends in need and to solve problems with a blend of skill, patience, and a faith that healing and creation can go hand in hand.