[img]https://images-wixmp-ed30a86b8c4ca887773594c2.wixmp.com/f/59fb44fd-b5cb-48f2-a3fc-978e28f4c03c/dant1ur-0129a1fd-5f33-4f79-96d3-c04e9dd5f386.jpg/v1/fill/w_1600,h_2277,q_75,strp/tomyris_of_massagetae__6th_bce___women_war_queens_by_gambargin_dant1ur-fullview.jpg?token=eyJ0eXAiOiJKV1QiLCJhbGciOiJIUzI1NiJ9.eyJzdWIiOiJ1cm46YXBwOjdlMGQxODg5ODIyNjQzNzNhNWYwZDQxNWVhMGQyNmUwIiwiaXNzIjoidXJuOmFwcDo3ZTBkMTg4OTgyMjY0MzczYTVmMGQ0MTVlYTBkMjZlMCIsIm9iaiI6W1t7ImhlaWdodCI6Ijw9MjI3NyIsInBhdGgiOiJcL2ZcLzU5ZmI0NGZkLWI1Y2ItNDhmMi1hM2ZjLTk3OGUyOGY0YzAzY1wvZGFudDF1ci0wMTI5YTFmZC01ZjMzLTRmNzktOTZkMy1jMDRlOWRkNWYzODYuanBnIiwid2lkdGgiOiI8PTE2MDAifV1dLCJhdWQiOlsidXJuOnNlcnZpY2U6aW1hZ2Uub3BlcmF0aW9ucyJdfQ.I7Q0GxQhRn92XQE3Fw6pCo1mP419mF1kMOhVpQ6jLqc[/img]

[hider=Nolwenn]

[b]Identity:[/b] Pennaeth Nolwenn ach Dinordow: Forgemaster of Dinordow, Ranger of the Freeholds, and Tyrantsbane

[b]Potency:[/b] Six years into her “reign” as a sorcerer, Nolwenn is still testing and learning the nature of her Power.  This much is clear : Given even the most mundane of rocks, she can mold them into bronze of the finest quality.  Nor does the smith need flame or hammer to ply her trade : Norwenn’s fingers render the toughest stone into molten sludge, and her palms shape any substance effortlessly without fear for burns, cuts, or bruising.  Moreover, not by Norwenn’s whim but seemingly because her power has a mind of its own, a few of her creations possess unusual qualities.  This applies foremost to her personal tools and weapons. Arrows and javelins are known to break against her armor without making a dent, but a single arrow from her own bow can pierce through shield and plate.  Her sword glows white hot, but retains its shape with incredible stubbornness.  Still, occasionally, power will pass into an object crafted for another : A scythe made like any other allows a farmer to reap three heads of grain for every stalk it cuts, and a helmet intended as a gift restores the eyes and ears of a grievously wounded veteran.  Thus far, at the direction of her followers, Norwenn has taken such blessings to mark “chosen” devotees.  The farmer now leads the council of her freehold, and the veteran sits on Norwenn’s council of war.  But neither the sorceress nor her comrades really know the intentions of whatever presence accompanies her abilities.  Is it the ancient War Goddess Nuada guiding a champion?  A mountain spirit following the terms of an unspoken pact?  A remnant of the Chaos, working according to “logic” beyond mortal reason?

[b]Ambition:[/b] Is there such a thing as a “good” King?  Perhaps, but if so Nolwenn hasn’t seen it yet.  With Kings come governors, tax collectors, mercenaries, and slave-drivers.  Under a “good” King, are the slaves happy and free?  Do the mouths of hungry villagers come before the war-chest?  Nolwenn doubts it.  So she fights first to defend a different way of living, and second to purge the old way as far as her power can reach.

[b]Life:[/b] Since her days as a simple apprentice, Nolwenn was a prolific craftswoman.  But such skill means little for the reputation of no-name bondsfolk, children of no-name bondsfolk.  In the lands of Donubia – the fertile, hilly crossroads of the island kingdoms to the South, the Dragon’s tributaries and Ziggurat Empires across the deserts to the East, and the herd clans to the West – the esteemed court-slave is no less subject to the whims of their sorcerer-lord than the rural serf, and perhaps more so for sheer proximity.  They do as their lords command, and for Nolwenn this was tending to the war-forges of the Druidlord Cadoc in his capital of Din Cadoc.  Her javelins flew in his retaliations against tax evaders and fugitives, and her plating insulated his Staff of Power as it drove rivers away from Cadoc’s enemies – starving entire villages to demonstrate his authority.

Yet, the clever bondswoman worked harder than her lord realized.  Weapons flowed also to storehouses for secret collaborators, and a remarkable bronze-plated bow into her own hands.  The Staff of Power was no use when Nolwenn’s arrow landed in Cadoc’s eye, nor could it even hold its form when she shattered it upon her forge’s anvil.  But the Power itself did not die...it simply moved and assumed new form.  Nolwenn found herself the new Sorcerer – but she would not assume the title of Lord.  She would only be Pennaeth – Warchief and Protector.  There would be no more bondsfolk or dynasts in Din Cadoc- now renamed Dinordow.  The people would rule themselves.

From there, the Ranger worked systematically.  Every hillfort of every governor Cadoc had appointed was overrun, and its satellite villages united under councils of their former serfs and slaves – turned free cultivators and artisans.  Now the Forgemaster of Dinordow protects a loose but sizeable confederacy of such freeholds.  Despite three years of peace, even the masters of the greater cities of Donubia fear the growing power of Tyrantsbane and the disturbingly well-equipped militias that follow her.

[/hider]