Hope reference

Ok, so, here's one of my D&D characters, updated a bit for some OCT usage.



Name: Hope Lynsdaughter
~Age: 44 years (about 17 or 18 because of her half demon heritage)
~Gender: Female
~Species: Half fiend (humanXdemon)
~Height: 5"7 ft/ 170 cm/ 6.5 heads
~Weight:119 lbs/ 53.98 kg
~Occupation: Thief, Jack-of-All-Trades, Psychic for Hire

Personality
~General: Hope has a generally scathing and guarded attitude towards... pretty much everything. Her favorite expressions include glares, a blank face, or the occasional snarling when angry or surprised. Hope's reaction to most situations is to get defensive and cold. On the whole she tends to be rather hypocritical when it comes to people; she distrusts all of them, tries to avoid them whenever possible, yet is drawn towards large crowds and cities, wanting to blend in. But she's been raised on the look-out-for-number-one lifestyle, so she'll be quick to leave you behind for her own sake. After all, you're only human, why should she trust you?
~On the inside, deep down where even she can't find it, she's still the small 7-year old locked in the basement of the Church, the one trying to tear her wings off or break her horns with chunks of brick. Hope hates the demonic side her unknown father gave her, knowing it's the evil that repels people and causes all of the hatred in her life. Which is why she always takes such great pains to disguise herself at all times. She wants, craves, for someone to trust her, look past what they see and think about her. And although you'd have to be quick to catch it, Hope's glares and hostile stares have an undercurrent of naked desperation, a plea for you to stay, even though she's screaming at you to leave.

Likes
-Cats (only animal that doesn't freak out around her)
-Meat
-Cities
-Churches
-Plants (trees became good homes and friends)
-Thieves (They don't ask questions and like her skills)
-Learning things (especially math and stories )
-Summer (extreme heat and cold don't bother her, so, lot's of sun + still able to wear disguise = awesome)

Dislikes
-Dogs (tend to be the most vicious to her)
-People (especially humans, usually the most prejudiced)
-People in Power (Crime Bosses, politicians, etc. Pay her well, but treat her like scum)
-Romance novels
-Religious people (normal and cults alike)

Tropes
~Beneath the Mask
~Be All My Sins Remembered
~Character Alignment- Neutral Evil
~Don't You Dare Pity Me
~Light is Good

Powers-Psionic and Demonic
~Can produce a globe of darkness, in a 20 ft radius, once a day (demonic)
~Can read base emotions and motives, but not minds (psionic)
~Mind thrust- goes into and attacks the mind of an opponent (psionic)
~Inertial Armor- Hope can layer herself with psychic energy, buffering against some physical attacks (psionic)
~Energy Push- a physical shove of mental energy, can range from large to small psionic)

Strengths
~Extremely agile and quick, very light. Fast runner (for obvious reasons...)
~Long bouts of prayer and learning has given her excellent concentration. This lets her use her psionic powers with greater effectiveness and ease.

Weaknesses
~Psionic poewers are very emotion and concentration based, so if Hope of freaking out, she might pick up on others' brainwaves and meld minds accidentally.
~She was made very light and non-dense so she'd be able to fly. Unfortunately, that makes her very easy to hit and injure.
~Emotionally weak. Sure, she might not break down on the spot, but she's certainly affected by what others say.


Biography

~Before: Lyn MyrsDaughter was a young woman belonging to the convent of Pelor, a god of sun, light, strength, and healing. Her and her Sisters tended to travelers that passed through, filling the days with prayer and peace. On one beautifully clear night, a weary monk stumbled to the doors of the convent, claiming to be a cleric of Pelor on a pilgrimage to the Captiol City. Being the kind Sisters they were, they tended to him, provided him warm lodgings and food. But in the midst of the night, Lyn found herself wandering the halls of the convent, and came upon the Monk relaxing outside in the courtyard. Exchanging words and courtesies, she found herself enamored, enchanted, filled with swooning young womanly feelings. He swept her off her feet, and they spent a night filled with love and whispers. In the morning, he was gone, and she was pregnant with Hope.

~Young: When Hope was born, she was still human. Pink, soft, with a fluff of black hair like her mother. Lyn named her Hope in the belief that she was something good, a blessing, from that wandering monk of Pelor. But the pregnancy had taken a great toll on Lyn, so she stayed mostly bedridden whilst Hope was raised by the other Sisters. Hope was two when the horns started to bud, and they thought it a mere growth. She was three when her mother died, screaming in shock and horror as wings split open her back and spread, wet and glistening. Heart attack was the clinical term, but the Sisters thought differently. They knew now who that traveling monk was, and what Hope now was. Hope, only three, didn't understand when they led her to the cellar of the Convent, barely lit by one dusty window. But she learned to understand, after ten years in that cellar.

~The Cellar: The Sisters never touched her, never hit or abused her. They brought her food and water, gave her wash cloths and clothes. The Sisters only talked, preached, all the time into that Cellar. Telling her what she was, what was inside her, the evil. Hope clutched her mother's old holy symbol, every day, praying in the sole sunbeam that fell from the cellar window, begging that it wasn't true. But ten years of the same words soon becomes everything you hear, everything you believe. She grew attached to the one window in the cellar where she was kept, loving the light. At ten, she felt the first nudge, in her head. She thought it was a headache. At twelve, she began to get the shapes and moods of what the Sisters were thinking before they even spoke to her. Hope thought she was just used to their behaviors so much that she could read them. And at thirteen and a half, Hope's head split open. Ten years of a dark cellar, of dark words, of self hatred mixed with demonic energy, produced a terrible psychic power that ripped through the walls of the convent. It shattered minds in its wake, and blew out a ton of brick and dirt from Hope's room, leaving her free to the open air. She ran, in pain and screaming, into the night.