IFoundSquirrels/AdamantFern

Adamant Fern -- "Fern" for short -- is the Twilight Caste of her party, a quiet inscrutable woman with a strange philosophy and enormous plans. IFoundSquirrels created her, and is currently playing her in an RL campaign with friends.

Description

Slight and slender, thin even, Adamant Fern looks fragile enough to break with a fingernail. Her skin and hair are pale, nearly colorless, although she's not an actual albino: once she had chocolate-colored skin and black hair, but the Northern Wyld leached all color from her. Her build and features are boyish, androgynous. Her face is triangular, fairly narrow, with pronounced eyebrows and flared nostrils. Her hands are delicate, with long sensitive fingers. Her left eye changes color constantly, always rich and deep or bright in hue: royal purple, emerald, crimson, marigold, rose, flame-orange, and sapphire are all fairly common colors. It never turns gray or brown. The same Wyld energies that bleached her skin and hair concentrated all the color of her nature into the eyes. Her right eye is, literally, a construct made of fine orichalcum plates and wires. Her hair is shoulder-length but seems shorter thanks to the way it flows in soft waves around her face. It sweeps over her forehead in a smooth wing, half-hiding the orichalcum eye--a bit of hair is no impediment to Essence sight.

In person, she's quite laconic, given to gazing contemplatively off into the distance or just watching people (perhaps a little too intensely). When she does speak, she's either incredibly practical or poetic; her philosophy often blurs the line between the two, especially when she's discussing the occult secrets and distant lore so essential to her ultimate goal. Her coolness falls away when confronted with a good problem to sink her teeth into; more often than not, she'll grab it and be off like a bloodhound on the scent. She loves Creation, but also to some extent the Wyld: balance is the be-all and end-all of her philosophy, what gives life and meaning to all things. Nihilism, as such, is anathema to her, and one of the few things that actually makes her angry.

Backstory

The woman once called Saychel Araka was born in The Lap to a minor house of lesser Dragon-Bloods, growing up in the lively, fertile land under the metaphorical guidance of that great stone protector. When she was about eight, her father, Saychel Herek, was called up for his ten years to the Wyld Hunt, chasing a northern Lunar seen a little too far from the borders of the Haslanti League. Her family traveled straight across the Blessed Isle to get there. Along with her early memory of the Lap's gentle climes and cycling seasons, her first sight of the Imperial Mountain -- its overwhelming peace, solidity, endurance -- shaped much of Araka's early philosophy.

Then the family reached the garrison outside Cherak, where they would live while the father went Anathema-hunting. Young Araka had been close to her father, and was now alone. Against her family's advice and insistence, she often slipped out of the city to take long walks unaccompanied along the lonely Northern coast. It was on one of these later walks, just before she would have heard that her father would be home in three days, that she was taken.

An enterprising party of faerie cataphracts accompanying a lesser noble, far from their home with the court of the Lions of the Snow, was getting hungry and desperate. The noble, deciding that perhaps his whim to see the Inland Sea for himself hadn't been such a good idea after all, was casting about for something to snack on before turning back for home... and found the now nineteen-year-old Araka. He was captivated by the vitality of the thoughtful girl, and ordered his entourage to take the young one captive. Suddenly captive, frightened and alone, the girl was spirited away back to the Raksha court.

---

For the next five years, Saychel Araka lived in the midst of chaos. Nothing she experienced in the court of the Faeries, or on their many journeys north to the Wyld, ever made sense to her. For their own reasons, her captors never beguiled her, and they only ever nibbled at her soul; instead, she performed an endless series of incomprehensible tasks for them. They made her dance in sealed rooms, carry water downriver, pull every leaf from plants that grew back faster than she could cut. They even changed her: one morning she awoke to find her right eye missing, and the next day it had been replaced with a non-functioning construct of strange, hot gold.

And nibble as her captors did, they ate what was most precious to her: her identity. Crucial memories were drawn from her, pieces of her personality. She forgot her home, her family, her very name. Fragments of her previous life remained to her, and she clutched them like talismans: a dreamy impression of springtime in The Lap, the gentle callused touch of her father's hand, the towering sight of the Imperial Mountain all remained etched on her memory even as everything else ebbed away.

Then, one day in her twenty-first year, the faerie noble who had first taken her from Cherak called her into his presence and prepared to feed. She heard his voice, and she dreaded it, having seen the zombies he had made of other humans -- some of them her only friends. She stared up at the tall, inhumanly beautiful figure, and knew that if she let him gnaw on her dreams again, she would lose all that was left of herself... and even knowing that she would die because of it, defiance reared up within her.

The faerie reached down, lifting his prey's chin with one long, delicate finger. "Your dreams, little one -- so sweet today," he purred.

Her eyes narrowed, her hands tensed, and the nameless woman reached up to swat the Raksha's hand away. "You will never taste them again," she told him, almost calmly... and the Solar Exaltation burst upon her in a wave of golden light.

---

The woman with no name fought her way out of the Wyld that day, leaving behind her a hundred shattered faeries. When she finally reached Creation, the memory of the Imperial Mountain asserted itself again. Behind her, chaos; before her, stability. She closed her eyes, feeling the sudden patterns of her newly awakened Essence, and shifted it ever so slightly: when she opened them again, the alien construct that had replaced her eye saw light, and more than light. Essence sight opened before her, and with it many truths of her universe. She knew then what she had to do.

Many years have passed since then. Since leaving the court of the Faeries, the Solar has earned a name -- Adamant Fern, suited to one of the South taken root in the ice, one who looks fragile as glass but cannot be broken. She has begun the long path of research and cultivation that will eventually make her a Primordial. When she sought to learn sorcery, she found that she'd already passed her trials of humility, fear, journey, and sacrifice in the Faerie court. Her meaningless jobs had made her humble; her nightmare years had shown her fear; her march to the Wyld had taken her across many leagues of wondrous Creation; and finally, the faeries had made her sacrifice for her when they devoured her past.

She eventually traveled west, discovering by accident a long-forgotten manse and puzzling out its secrets to win the Whimsical Creation, a Spear-Thrower of Exalted Prowess, and a considerable library. Here she met the forerunners of the /ThousandHandsConvoy; here she created for them their island home, earning their worship for the foreseeable future. She taught and guided them, eventually winning several mortal disciples. Her first disciple, Stance of Skies, is spiritual leader of the Hands; another, Saffron Dolphin, showed an aptitude for dealing with demons and now studies them happily while overseeing Fern's island estate.

One day, visiting the Sailing Stone about three years after her Exaltation, Fern was called down to the aft beach to see the Solar-marked stranger who'd just washed up on the shore. The other woman she soon knew for an Eclipse Caste Solar; she welcomed her, and the Hands proved their hospitality. The Eclipse, Daughter of the Amber Melody [another PC in Fern's game], had just Exalted and was feeling lost, so Fern extended that welcome to help Amber onto her feet. They ended up friends, swearing a Circle-oath to each other and working together when their goals coincided. They were doing so when they boarded together a certain ill-fated ship and began their present adventures.

Mechanics

Identity

Caste: Twilight

Concept: Inscrutable philosopher

Anima: When Fern goes totemic, her anima is a bonfire of Essence all sun-golden and luminous rose. Streams of vibrant indigo glyphs in elegant Old Realm calligraphy write themselves on the air, weaving into a 3D mandala of extraordinary delicacy, its shapes reminiscent of fern-fronds and crystal sunbursts. The words spell out manifestoes of her philosophy... to anyone who can read dialects of Old Realm familiar at Meru and the Jet Court. All is highlighted in faint hints and shades of every color ever seen in a sunset.

Experience: 14, available 6, 26 bonus points

Attributes

Physical (Tertiary)

Strength ••

Dexterity ••••

Stamina ••

Mental (Primary)

Perception •••

Intelligence •••••

Wits •••

Social (Secondary)

Charisma ••••

Manipulation ••••

Appearance ••

Abilities

• Dawn
  • Archery 0
  • Martial Arts 0
  • Melee 0
  • Thrown 3
  • War 0
• Zenith
  • Integrity 2
  • Performance 2
  • Presence 0
  • Resistance 1
  • Survival 0
• Twilight
  • Craft (Elemental) 3
  • Investigation 3
  • Lore 5
  • Medicine 1
  • Occult 5
• Night
  • Athletics 0
  • Awareness 0
  • Dodge 2
  • Larceny 0
  • Stealth 0
• Eclipse
  • Bureaucracy 0
  • Linguistics 2
  • Ride 0
  • Sail 2
  • Socialize 0

Specialties:

• Lore, (The Wyld), 2
• Occult, (Primordials), 3
• Occult, (Sorcery), 1

Languages: Old Realm (native!), Skytongue, Seatongue

Advantages

Motivation: Make Creation infinite, an equal to the Wyld. (She has a detailed plan for doing this.)

Intimacies: "The still point of the turning world"; her followers, worshipers, and disciples

Virtues: Compassion 2, Conviction 2, Temperance 3, Valor 1

Willpower: 6

Health: -0x/-1x2/-2x3/-4x1/Incap.

Essence: Permanent Essence: 3 (4 for purposes of sorcery; see the Whimsical Creation, below)

• Peripheral 35 (50 available, 30 of which is for sorcery only)
• Personal 15

Committed:

• 5 to Spear-Thrower of Exalted Prowess
• -20 to Whimsical Creation (commit 10, it returns 30)

Charms and Combos

• Lore
  • First Lore Excellency
  • Second Lore Excellency
  • Chaos-Repelling Pattern
  • Wyld-Shaping Technique
• Resistance
  • Ox-Body Technique (1 -1, 2 -2)
• Occult
  • Terrestrial Circle Sorcery
• Terrestrial Circle Sorcery Note: In Fern's campaign, two Charm slots gets a character three spells. Countermagic and demon-summoning come free with the Sorcery charm.
  • Emerald Countermagic
  • Demon of the First Circle
  • Flying Guillotine
  • Incantation of Effective Restoration
  • Caress of Healing Fingers
  • Ritual of Elemental Empowerment
  • Viridian Mantle of Underwater Journeys
  • Spoke the Wooden Face

Combo: Light on Thrashing Waters Method

Wyld-Shaping Technique (simple, 20m 1wp) Second Lore Excellency (reflexive, 2m/success)

Total Cost: 23+m, 2wp

When Fern activates this combo, the glyphs in her anima change. No longer do they describe her philosophy; instead, they are disjointed sentences, familiar but somehow unknowable, as if they are excerpts from a book that you've read but cannot remember where or when, or even what it was about. In fact, all sentient beings can read them; each perceives the glyphs in his native language. They are, in fact, from a book -- a book written by Cytherea herself, describing the origin of the Primordials and what they did to make Creation. The excerpts give no clue as to their origin or subject, remaining tantalizingly out of reach of the intellect. Fern does not know the book exists, and is just as puzzled as anyone else regarding the glyphs, what they mean, and what they're doing in her anima. If she were to find out what they are, she'd scour Creation and many other worlds in search of their origin.

Mechanically, the Combo is simple but powerful: by paying extra motes into the Excellency, she can buy the successes that determine how much she can create with Wyld-Shaping Technique.

Equipment

• Her silk robes, dusty rose-colored, Earth-enchanted to protect as well as a buff jacket.
• In cold weather, a Fire-enchanted cloak to keep her warm.
• In hot weather, a set of silk ribbon-strips Air-enchanted to banish the heat.
• A pair of deceptively fragile-looking Earth-enchanted sandals.
• The Whimsical Creation, a powerful artifact resembling a heavy orichalcum bracelet inset with jade, and with moonsilver rings and starmetal chains.
• A Spear-Thrower of Exalted Prowess, an orichalcum atlatl, in a secret pocket of her robes' forearms. This is set with her manse's hearthstone, a Breathless Jewel.
• The Resplendent Dolphin IX, a folding submarine which is a party possession but is controlled by and attuned to her.
• Gold-and-sapphire robe clasps, shaped like curling ferns, worth Resources 3 each.
• She keeps more of her equipment aboard her sailing ship, the Diamond Resolve, or entrusted to the Hands.

Combat

Base initiative: 3

Soak: 7B/5L/0A (Earth-enchanted silk robes, 5B/4L)

Dodge DV: 5

Attacks:

Spear-Thrower of Exalted Prowess (ordinary javelin): Spd 4, Acc 10, Dmg 8L, Range 100, Rate 2

Spear-Thrower of Exalted Prowess (Essence javelin): Spd 4, Acc 10, Dmg 9L piercing, Range 150, Rate 2

Perfect chakram: Spd 4, Acc 9, Dmg 4L, Range 30, Rate 3

Punch: Spd 5, Acc 5, Dmg 2B, Def 3, Rate 3

Kick: Spd 5, Acc 4, Dmg 5B, Def 1, Rate 2

Clinch: Spd 6, Acc 4

Expanded Backgrounds

Resources ••••

Wyld-Shaping Technique is an incredible source of wealth, when one knows how to use it. Treasures shaped from Wyldstuff and used, sold, and traded form the basis of Fern's considerable wealth. That which she can't keep herself -- which isn't much, as a lot of her wealth is in jade coin -- is in a vault with the Hands.

Manse •••

Fern controls the Dragon-Arch of Keiala Maya, which she shares with Amber. She carries its greater hearthstone, a Neverdrown Opal.

Artifact ( Whimsical Creation) ••••

A heavy jade-inlaid orichalcum bracelet with moonsilver rings and starmetal chains, the Creation grants many benefits. For 10m commitment, it grants the user 30m to be used only for spells. It reduces casting time by one Shape Sorcery action, renders the bearer immune to casting disruption, and grants her a dot of permanent Essence for purposes of calculating spell effects only. Fern found it, abandoned and broken, in the library of her manse; an Incantation of Effective Restoration resealed the chains, uncracked the jade, and granted her a potent tool.

Artifact (Spear-Thrower of Exalted Prowess) ••

This atlatl sizes itself to its user, acts as an artifact spearthrower for ordinary javelins, and can (for 1m/javelin) create spears from solid Essence. Fern found it in the library of her manse, beside the Whimsical Creation.

Artifact (Spirit's Eye) ••

This exquisite sphere of interlocking orichalcum plates and wires was implanted by the Raksha of the Jet Court, in place of the eye they stole from Fern. Only after her Exaltation did she discover that it works as well as her old eye -- better, since for 1m/minute it grants her Essence sight.

Cult ••

Fern is worshiped as protector and teacher by the /ThousandHandsConvoy, a society of sailing nomads who control the /SailingStone, a floating island she built for them.

Flaws

Callous, -2 bpts

This was no willing decision on Fern's part. She is missing one dot of Virtue because a Faerie ate it.

Amnesia, -2 bpts

Thanks again to the nibbling of the Raksha, Fern remembers next to nothing of her life before the courts of the Fae. Only four things remain to her: a few fragments of Flametongue, her first sight of the Imperial Mountain, a dreamy impression of the Lap in spring, and her father's hands -- not his face, only his hands, but in perfect detail.

Unusual Appearance, -1 bpt

Her exposure to Wyld energies concentrated all the color in Fern's nature into her eyes: her skin is abnormally pale and her hair snow-white, but her remaining eye shifts slowly through innumerable brilliant hues. (The other one is an orichalcum artifact.) There is nowhere on Creation that she wouldn't look a stranger.

Known Anathema, -1 bpt

Tales of the Thousand Hands Convoy and their goddess, "the Walker on Verges," has spread, along with enough description of the cult, its practices, and Fern herself that a determined Wyld Hunt could find her, if it happened to pass through Abalone.