Wonderful elven girl for 5e

Name: (ACTUAL NAME)  Feltua Firmatin Lilias                       (TITLE) WitchLord, Andulaste the Cantankerous {completely for RP purposes}
Race/Gender/Age: Wood Elf/Female/22
Class: (Druid 2)
XP: 670/900
Alignment: True Neutral

Statistics:

STR: 8 (-1)
DEX: 16(+4)
CON: 14(+2)
INT: 14(+2)
WIS: 14(+2)
CHR: 10(+2)

AC: 14 [16 with Shield]
hp: 17 - 12
Saves: WIS
Hit Die: 2d8
Speed: 35

Weapons
Short sword [1d6+3 damage]
Short sword [1d6+3 damage]
Boomerang [1d6 damage Range 30/120]

Skills:
Survival
Stealth
Sleight of Hand
Arcana

Tools:
Thieve's Tools
Poisoner's Tools
Navigator's Tools

Languages:
Elvish, Common, Thieve's Cant, Druidic

Race/Class Features
Low Light Vision
Keen Senses
Fey Ancestry
Trance
Mask of the Wild
Ritual Casting
Wild Shape
Circle of Land [Druid of the Coast]
Natural Recovery

Feats

Spells:
Druid Craft
Read Magic
Resistance
LV1 Druid Spells: attuned= thunderwave, fog cloud, animal friendship




Inventory:
10 Leather armor
10 Shield
20 two short swords
2 backpack
2 traveler's clothes
10 orb
10 Ink  (1      ounce   bottle)  {RP as a box of crayons}
2cp Ink pen                      {RP as a box of crayons}
10 lock
2 manacles
1sp Oil (1      pint    flask)
10sp 10 sheets of parchment
1 Pouch
1 Rope, hempen 50 feet
2cp Soap
25 Thieves’   tools
5sp Tinderbox
2cp waterskin
1 Ball bearings 100
2 grappling hook
25 acid vial
1 sp mess kit
1 Fishing Tackle
Boomerang, it returns after use due to a very minor enchantment [which confers no other benefits]


BOOKS:
"Magic: An Apprentice Guide" by the Wizard of Maimeron [Written in Common]
"Chronicles of the Elvish Nation" by Fingolfin son of Feanor [Written in Elvish]
"The Divine Metaphysic: Doctrines of the Fivefold Divines as they Apply to conventional Cosmology" by Thaemen the Divine


39gp 3sp 4cp
49lb

Appearance:
She is the blonde rogue in earthy garbs. A mysterious green hood conceals her beautiful youthful face. Her skin is warm spritely like pink hues of lotus petals. Her eyes like green crystals, threatening to stab. Just a Child by elven years, and a child by stature. A small child not even 5 feet tall. She is feisty however and carries a self warranted importance, it can often times be unbecoming. So proud and outspoken it isn't uncommon for her to be confused for a boy. Masquerading a theif and engaging pity arguements with people she really hadn't any business involving with.
Arrogant in nature, she will often claim to be a high elf, despite her wood elvan upbringing.
She carries an old child's backpack over her back. A dark green cloak covers her, wearing the hood often, but only when venturing the wilds. An array of daggers are pocketed on her backside, and a small buckler is hoisted onto her arm. Two swords cross her back. A shirt of leather armor, floral puffy shorts and belt strapped sandals. She wears a pair of yew carved earings given from her mother and a sigil of yevron necklace given to her from Lodicus, the bard.

Backstory:
A modest elvan girl living comfortably amongst the druids and trees along the coast of the ocean. A village of about 50 living grottos uner the roots of trees, although some choose to camp by the coast. At her youngest, Feltua never had a mind for adventure. The forest village was all she knew. The elves who raised her and the animals that watched over them, were the only types of people she thought existed. Her community was esoteric, and even more so shut off, to protect them from monsters that lurk outside the village.
One night the village would find a traveling troupe of bards had been stranded in the forest. The elements having gotten to themm ailed them with sickness and dehydration. The Village people were confused as to how to approach the poor adventurers. Fortunately there was a consensus, Thanks to Feltua's father whom pleaded compassion be had for the travelers, the troupe was elvish afterall.
The troupe had awoken in a tree, being tended to by the healers of the village. They were grateful for their rescue and returned the favor by hosting a show in the village center. A festival of merryment was had, the troupe shared music and tales from cultures spread about the world, they performed plays and dances and magic. Their wit and illusories captured Feltua's heart. It was then forth she would always wonder, what is magic? And what magics are there beyond her village? It was the end of the show, feltua ambled backstage, her curiousity pulling her nose to whatever exotic novelties their caravan kept.
"Excuse me little girl?" An elven jester called in an unfamiliar dialect. "Aha! I know that look, you were aiming to steal yourself a new toy" Feltua looked to her feet shamefully "Hay now, how am I suppose to believe you weren't stealing when you pout so guilty" He chuckled "You're the village flower, right. You should keep your head up like you are." Feltua was silent, letting the strange man ramble on. She lifted her head to look him in the eyes, the eyes she looked at were confident and playful. His face was strange for an elf, not so different, but he had an air of elegance and tenacity. "Now you're the village Elder's daughter huh? Well, for the girl of the father who saved my brothers. I can let you have one gift. anything from my pile, just take something." She didn't quite understand his city tongue, but nevertheless ventured to ask "How did you perform your magic?" She said almost in a whisper. The jester only chuckled "Well kid, it'd be unbecoming a magician to share his secrets.. hmm but here take this instead." He handed her a heavy book on the rudimentary of magic theory. "Books never keep secrets.."
The Troupe made a tradition of visiting the village every year. And the village was grateful for it, as long as the troupe promised to never reveal the village's location to outsiders. There were feasts and shows and much laughter amongst the drunken folks. Feltua had read her book many times over, she would acquire a new one every year from the same man. And he was always delighted to give her another book. Often times he'd come bearing multiple books, sometimes trinkets from different cultures. The other bards of the troupe eventually began sharing things from far away lands as well. Gift giving then became a tradition in these festivals. The Bard brought Feltua great tomes and bibles of history and hilarity, great tales and curious stories alike. Feltua fell in love with the books, and childishly enough with the Elf who provided them to her. Feltua kept a bookcase proudly standing in center room of her grotto. She was awfully persnickety about whom read her books, scared they may tear a page or get dirt on it. But her immediate relatives shared a bit in her reading. Including her grandfather, the magic user of her family, who taught feltua how to perform magic. A tanned long bearded old-timer, who often spent his time by the beach. Amongst the family magic was a modest curiosity, that only a rare few were able to conjure. They only did have 3 books on the subject.
With every book and every visit from the troupe Feltua became more devoted to the high elven culture she never knew. Her humorous stories brought her a different attitude to approach life. The books taught her a new way to see her world, a different attitude to handle adventure. She saw herself, an elf, as a relative of great people, people who are praised like gods. The elves ancient descendants, She thought them too, as gods. These heroes of elvish lore deserved the title.
For 12 years the troupe had visited the village. On the 12th year the book giving elf would tell Feltua that the group was disbanding. And that this was their last show. He revealed to her his true name, out of respect for their bond. He was known by his audience as Byron MadMan the Wonderful, but for now on, to Feltua he was known as Lodicus Elshrite. Lodicus bequeathed her all of his favorite books on cultures and history and baudy tales from the baudy bible. They hugged, she cried, and then they left. It was a special festival that night. The village will never forget the spirit of wonder they brought every year. Feltua often regrets not having left with the troupe, wondering what life might had been with Byron Madman The Wonderful. It was only a few years after Feltua would leave the village to explore the world. She constructed a raft on the shore, the village gave her rations to pack for the trip. She decided to sail the sea towards where she heard High Elvan settlements lay, maybe even cities. It was with much delay and teary goodbyes before she had finally left. Before she did though, feltua's grandfather, mentor in magic gave her two shorts and a buckler, telling her it was too dangerous to go alone. These items he gave her along with the boomerang she had since she was a toddler were remnants from long ago when he use to travel.
From then on Feltua has been on the search for new wonders, seeking to learn from life, and on the search for Lodicus. Feltua was in love with many of the characters in her stories, the heroes of elven culture spoke to her in her dreams for power. She pursues wealth and power wherever she is, but most importantly for knowledge. She often fantasizes having a large enough of a book collection to open a library. It is  thoughts like those that kept her warm at night. When she slept in the alleys of remote towns. when she didn't have enough to keep herself fed, when she couldn't afford a shower. With all her doubts, all her insecurities, Feltua keeps her head up, she looks out into the future thats not there yet. She is proud, and she is wonderful. She even has her own show name to prove her greatness.
A poor, lonely, cold girl walks an idle path, she ventures towards a city she doesn't know of. Looking for a wonderful elvan man.