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Name: Folliwen of Harrowshreik
Age: 21, appears 17
Alignment: Chaotic Neutral
Race: Elf
Class: Hussar, Chasseur
Appearance/Clothing:
Height: 5’4’’
Hair: Blonde, long and elegant.
Eye: Diamond-yellow irises.
Skin: A healthy, fair colour.
Body Type: Thin, pleasantly curvy. Pointy ears easily mark her as an elf.
Voice: Standard for a girl of her appearance. Bold-spoken, passionate and optimistic.
Clothing: A thick, wooly-white single-breasted military coat alongside form fitting beige breeches. A deep blue waistcoat and white thigh-high dress sits interior. A brown leather belt is equipped alongside bags and a bayonet sheath. Her feet are clad in blue-rimmed, light-beige leather boots just under knee high. A deep blue, white-rimmed tricorn sits atop her head. A cartridge purse and strap hangs around her shoulder.
Armour: Her layers of clothing serve well enough to deflect the stray projectile or blow.
Weapons: Flintlock Musket, a sturdy Aeterasteel Alloy, 62 inch and 9 pound smoothbore gun with a black stock of Necrospringwood. Some say it’s a weapon too large for her, but years of wielding it has her fighting just as well as any decent musketeer. Bayonet, 17 inches of formidably durable spike backed by some handle; can be used as an effective stiletto in a pinch. Mounted on her musket, the combination is a 79 inch spear that can parry the heaviest of melee weapons with little effort. Unused, the musket is slung upon her shoulder.
Other Items: A remarkably strong, pony-sized undead flea accompanies Folliwen. It weighs 520 pounds and may jump six yards high. A blue-rimmed beige saddle with accompanying bags rest atop its body; within hold various bodily and tool maintenance material, ammunition, fire starting kit, tent, spare clothes and a blanket.
Skills: Folliwen holds success in gunnery, being able to load her flintlock musket in 14 seconds and could land shots at 234 yards, provided her weapon operates as intended. She’s also a very reliable dagger and bayonet fighter.
Natural Abilities: Elven dexterity, Folliwen may act both fast and accurately allowing her effective acrobatics and burst run speeds. She does not know that many techniques in melee, but her keen sight and swift hands are able to land the strikes that count.
End of Magic: Shots she take are hardly, if at all, affected by opposing mystical forces. Defenses relying on magic are of no effort to breach. She possesses no immunity against magic herself, however.
Magic: Her discipline is general Pyromancy with some elements of Alchemy. She manipulates combustions and flame in support of her main role as a musketeer.
Industrial Revolution: Harrowing forces within the Dominon of Mist forced elves to renounce their traditional ways. A blessing of fire is typically cast before each attempt at shooting, increasing accuracy for the directed angle. Mana consumption is low, and the spell requires but a small gesture. Almost necessary to circumvent the accuracy drop when aiming muskets.
Betrayal of Nature: A tactic used by desperate forces is Scorched Earth; they set fire to their own grounds, to bar enemies from reaping the full benefits of capture. A sharp, sudden action and disdainful focus will ignite a wildfire, uncontrollable by Folliwen herself. High mana consumption.
Broken Harmony: An absolutely benign alchemedic spell that converts organic, non-sentient matter into a billow of energy which Folliwen intakes gradually. It is an extremely efficient method of regaining calories that can replace active consumption.
Machine of War: Another entirely benign alchemedic spell that converts various material into raw resources like spare parts, gunpowder and oil.
History: Folliwen was raised in an age of terrible and magnificent change. Her elven people had once acted on part of crusaders, willing to establish a fortified settlement on the centre of the Archipelago of Fog, a chain of islands inhabited mainly by undead and demonic far South of the Sultanate. The idea lost much support after it had been deemed markedly costly, unfeasible, through extended experience. The ever marching dead and siege work of antagonists would relentlessly hamper static quarters, no matter how protected. The turn of events left her elven people in a conundrum; turn away from the isles in which only death lay, and face the shame and perhaps fury on a far continent ever-unchanging, or seek fresh potential, establish a method to persevere and conquer the predicament on hand. Her people chose the latter, and thus Folliwen trained early in the arts of survival when she came into being, on the continent so different from ones deemed elvish.
The elves had quickly learned of the existing state of archery on the archipelago; there were present almost inconceivably strong beings in vast numbers. Uruks, orcs of greater muscle and engineering feats than prior encountered, vampires who wield unnatural strength and wicked cunningness and wendigo, whose physical might dwarfed creatures several times their size. The typical draw weight of uruk composite bow was 150 pounds. The usual draw weight of vampire longbow was 170 pounds. The standard draw weight of wendigo recurve was over 200 pounds. Elven archery was completely outmatched, in range and armour penetration, to the point where they declared themselves obsolete; it was time to adopt new ways of war that may evoke great displeasure in tradition. Resorting to complying with the less violent undead and allied humans, elven battalions gradually acquired firearms, pyromancy spells and plate armour. Elven military efficiency skyrocketed, and many old thoughts were altered. Muskets were quite accurate, pyromancy wasn’t too difficult to acquire adequacy in and metal plate provided many more times the protection of other armours for surprisingly less weight, although for less comfort. The elves could then match the might of the Archipelago’s armies and match their might they did.
Folliwen’s particular group had garnered the title, the Hands of Harrowshreik as distinguishment for their innumerable deeds of hunting the harmful supernatural, restoring besieged towns and generally holding peace in the name of those still living. Folliwen herself was trained in efficient methods to dispatch the inhumane; gun marksmanship was taught young alongside close combat defence. The Hands of Harrowshreik, like most elven companies on the Archipelago, stayed not in a single area for anymore time than necessary, and so Folliwen learned to effectively live off even the dead land, and learned of spells ever-so versatile. She gained knowledge quickly in how life was in the environment of chilling temperatures and undeath, she took it to heart comradery and numbers coordination led to key success. A tactic of fight she finds to embody this concept is the sort of ‘conveyer belt shooting’ wherein a group of perhaps six musketeers stay close together; the keenest shot of them all performs his duty as his companions all reload guns for him. Folliwen’s company performed this method of sustained fire often, and she found herself the skill of being quick to re-charge muskets.
The Hands of Harrowshreik were known to be extraordinarily mobile as a fighting force. Outside of simply being elves, the company had included a significant number of giant, equine-sized undead fleas. They had acquired the arthropods through mercenary work under many Vampire Nobles and Undead Mafia Bosses. It was another mark against elven traditionalism, to operate as underlings to wicked forces, but a harsh surrounding demanded harsh measures, for the elves wished to survive. Folliwen found herself one of the perhaps freakish-looking steeds, and was eager to take instruction regarding its use. She was a fast, mounted warrior in short years, a Hussar. Bayonet atop a musket nearly as long as she tall made for a very workable lance as well.
There came a time when Folliwen, quite sure of her skill and filled with the spirit of an adventurous elf, requested for some time to test her self-reliance from her superior, High Judge Walcen. He granted her the favour and in due time, Folliwen found herself journeying toward the Darkwald. The Harrowshreiken elf had ventured throughout the Sultanate that came before, but the dryer climate and generous illumination actually made her homesick. She grew up in a land enclosed in mist, low lights and cold with large bodies of water; she missed it. Several months had passed, but the elf did not feel the need to return home, and so North was her destination, past the swamp and into dark, comforting woods.
< Message edited by Remaint -- 11/2/2015 4:36:47 >
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