Dona Reck
5'10" Half-elven Hermaphrodite

  She wakes up on a cold, stone slab in a disused, forgotten cellar, her weapons laid carefully beside her. She can remember a pulling sensation, like hearing her name spoken from a great distance. Before that, she can remember only darkness: quiet, empty, peaceful darkness that stretches back a long time. Perhaps a very long time. And before that, she can remember only flashes, brief glimpses of who she once was. She can remember an indistinct chanting, and two words clear among the muddle:
  Dona Reck.
  She shrugs and picks up her weapons, climbing out of the dry, dusty cellar. It's as good a name an any.