STR: 17 MOD:3
DEX: 13 MOD:1
CON: 16 MOD:3
INT: 13 MOD:2
WIS: 15 MOD:3
CHA: 15 MOD:2
Born in the heart of Shadowshore, Harmonia‘s brothel human mother died in childbirth, leaving her to be sold in the wholly uncapable hands of a local gang of street children. As soon as she could walk, she was picking pockets. By age ten, she had become a cut throat thief, with more than a few bodies in her wake. By fifteen, she had started her own gang of street rats, and had carved out a modest territory. She learned to track people by their footprints, identify foodstuffs quality by their smell.
She grew a bond with the rats and birds, and lived in a kind of balance, thanking them for feeding her in bad times, and feeding them when times were good. Though she was not opposed to devouring the fleshy creatures, she did harvest a soft spot for them. Physically, she was lean and muscular, pale from days of sleeping and nights of thieving. Her eyes were suspicious, the color of burnished steel. With high cheekbones and a leptorrhine nose, she was tall. Her hair was a tangle knot of chestnut.
At age nineteen, she applied to the local music school, her dream of being bard slowly coalescing. After flunking the entrance exam due to her inability to read , and stabbing the proctor with a leg off of his chair, a dark anger began to bubble deep inside her. It was her dark secret. Not that she had killed the proctor-- but her love of the fine arts.
It was several months later that she met Thrasher, dragging him out of a trash can by the scruff of his neck. At the time, he was merely another piece of meat that was still moving, something for the stew pot. But one look in his single good eye, and she was enamored. She was also soaked in urine, but that didn’t matter. She was in love. He became her most loyal friend. Weighing in at a full grown 15 pounds, he was not much use to the gang, who resented the attention and food he was allowed. One night, while Harmonia was sleeping, Thrasher went for a weighted down swim at the docks.
Harmonia had no recollection of the next morning. She merely remembered a haze, cleaning her blade, a good, hearty stew. She gathered her things, and headed to the one man who had what she needed. Grizzler was not a good man, a smart man, or even an attractive man. In fact, the only thing that kept people from slitting his greasy throat, was the pack of fighting dogs he kept and raised. Cut throat creatures, it was whispered they had the blood of the sewer rats in them, and that they devoured each other if Grizzler turned his back. This, of course, was foolish. They would devour each other even if he was watching, which is what the thick leather whip he carried was for. Harmonia examined each of the dogs, until she found what she was looking for.
Ceraberus was 50 pounds of muscle, and less than a year old. A fluffy, muscular creature, she had thrown herself forward and attacked Harmonia with an astounding rage. The kind of rage Harmonia could relate to.
Her coiled fur was thick, and it was easy to see she would survive the cold ocean, should she ever need to swim. This was one dog that would not die like Thrasher. Harmonia called her Cera for short in public, but when they were alone, Snookiekins.With her guard dog at her side, and all earnings from the gang, she purchased what she would need to find her destiny, and a word that rhymed with orange.