Amnesiac Elf

If you were to choose a single word to describe this adventuring party, it would have to be... "Dysfunctional." As if it wasn't enough that they had alien tadpoles in their heads, it seemed as if every member of their little group had an additional, personal burden to bare.

Karlach had an infernal engine in her chest! Meaning that she burned like eternal hellfire at all times.

Gale was a... Magic vampire of sorts, and would supposedly EXPLODE if his appetite wasn't satiated.

Astarion was a LITERAL vampire, with the cravings to match and a traumatic relationship with his enigmatic master.

And Lae'zel... Was Lae'zel. Quite possibly the worst of them all.

Shadowheart, for her part, wasn't perfect. She could be moody, and a bit too enamored with her goddess. But she was certainly more stable and reliable than the others. At least, that's how she viewed herself! But in truth, her drawback was her amnesia.

It wasn't as simple as forgetting her past-- Shadowheart seemed forgetful in general! She remembered the important things, thankfully. But she may forget the food she'd been cooking, leading to burnt rations. She may forget an incantation in the heat of battle, or the way back toward town on their travels.

It was a hassle, but nothing that the party couldn't work with. If anything, it was moreso a source of embarrassment for Shadowheart herself. An extra reason to be teased by her party. Still, Shadowheart maintained her haughty attitude typical of a half elf.

Even as her condition took an unexpected turn.

On one particular morning, Shadowheart climbed out of her tent and stretched her arms high toward the sky. It was cold. Cloudy. Enough to send an immediate chill throughout her body.

She went about her morning routine: She changed out of her sleepwear. Prayed to her goddess. Cleaned her armor, organized her gear and spells, then finally, she joined the others for breakfast.

"...So this goblin's attacking me, yeah? Real little ankle-biter, and I mean that literally." Karlach laughed, in the midst of a story. "So I hoist her up and..."

The conversation peeters out as all eyes fall on Shadowheart. Various looks of surprise, confusion and delight. The gothic elf stands at the campfire, securing her messy black hair in a braid... And raising an eyebrow at the sudden silence.

"...Good morning? Don't stop on my account." She muttered, unsure why she was suddenly the center of attention. She helped herself to some of the warm, stewing food, whilst shivering again.

"Mind making space near the fire? I'm freezing..."

Shadowheart didn't seem to realize that she'd forgotten a rather crucial part of her morning routine-- Actually putting ON the clothes that she'd so dutifully cleaned and maintained!