Agatha Dreyer

You were raised within a small funerary order devoted to Kelemvor, where death was treated not as tragedy, but as law. From childhood, you learned to prepare bodies, dig graves, and offer rites to the dead. When others feared corpses, you feared only those who refused to stay buried.

Your order eventually turned from tending the dead to hunting them. Villages plagued by necromancers, ghouls, and restless spirits would call upon your brothers and sisters for aid. You learned quickly that prayer alone did little against monsters. Steel and discipline proved far more reliable.

Over the years, the work hardened you. Too many graves were filled with innocents. Too many frightened peasants mistook fear for righteousness. You carried out evecutions in Kelemvor's name more than once, and though you obeyed without protest, doubt began to settle into your heart.

Eventually, you left the order behind. Not in anger, nor disgrace, but because you no longer trusted blind faith untempered by judgment.