Fern

Fern.png

Fern awoke in light. Not a whole lot is known about her; either out of fear or embarrassment she keeps her past under tight wraps. What is known is that she's apparently some kind of elf, likes ferns, has goats, and has been described as 'the lunatic at the end of the block with a goat and too many spatulas - like a rich redneck, if that makes any sense at all.' 'Eccentric' would be putting it mildly, but the amount of energy and craziness she puts into most everything she does tends to leave an impression, be it good or bad.

The truth is that she is lost, very very lost. Not so long ago, she died, and though she got better later, the damage was already done. Dying changes everything, and though she was still very much herself, she was not who she had been and she did not entirely know who she was anymore.

When she met up with Nathan and the Shahannas, however, this didn't matter. They brought her in to their crazy group regardless of who exactly she was; she was simply who they needed to tell their story.

Like all her mirrors, Fern likes stories.


Fern acts as the DM of the game world of Sarathi de, at least until the incident with the breadstick.

Then she plays only herself.


There is this one house I will never forget. It was filled with penises. There were pictures on the wall of penises. Penis statues, carvings, paintings, flags, tapestries, lamps, table legs, drawings, etc. were all of penises. The armrests on the chairs and couches were shaped like penises. So if you put your arm on them, you would be grabbing the head. Even the couches and chairs were upholstered in penis fabrics. The two dudes that lived there were both artists and they made all of it. It was the weirdest fucking thing I think I have ever seen.