[hider=Fygawren Aescau][center][img]https://i.imgur.com/SMDeSZp.png[/img]
[img]https://i.imgur.com/sv64fgg.png[/img][/center][indent][indent][indent][indent][color=467426][b]NAME [color=691f19]|[/color][/b][/color] Fygawren "[color=a07e91][i]Fyg[/i][/color]"  Aescau
[color=467426][b]AGE [color=691f19]|[/color][/b][/color] 31
[color=467426][b]GENDER [color=691f19]|[/color][/b][/color] Female
[color=467426][b]FACTION/ALLEGIANCE [color=691f19]|[/color][/b][/color] No faction, but she has juxtaposed herself against the Order of the Third Moon
[color=467426][b]APPEARANCE [color=691f19]|[/color][/b][/color] 
Fyg stands a little under six-feet but hunches underneath her worn but well-hewn red cloak. She lets her long silvery locks hang down away from the hood as to give the appearance of a crone. Usually, only her tanned chin and full, but chapped, lips are showing. She leans heavily on a sturdy and gnarled staff with a thick amber-hued crystal embedded into the top of it. It has no luster when the sun hits it. Instead, it's heavy and provides quite the knock if swung at someone. People seem to leave her alone. Especially if she is coupled with a handful of homemade poultices and the unfortunate flock of birds that enjoy using her shoulders and staff as a perch. It'd help if she wouldn't feed them every chance she got.

When Fyg isn't trying to act with discretion, she abandons the shroud of the cloak to show her full form. Her silver hair is tied behind her in a long braid and wreathed with pretty, but terribly intrusive, flowers. Her skin is a deep tan, and her one visible eye is the same color as the crystal on her staff. The other is hidden behind an eyepatch. Of course, when the sun hits it just right it becomes evident that it's see-through. Her armor is a dusty, reinforced leather that she takes care of. Around her waist is an assortment of colorful clothes and scarves that are haphazardly woven together in some semblance of a belt. Her pants are a thick canvas with high leather boots that match her asymmetrical gloves adorning her arms. Yet, they cannot hide defined musculature from years of harsh living. [/indent][/indent][/indent][/indent]
[img]https://i.imgur.com/Fg50VuF.png[/img][indent][indent][indent][indent][color=467426][b]RELIC DESCRIPTION [color=691f19]|[/color][/b][/color] [b]THE IRIS[/b] / [i]Elemental - Plant[/i] 🌿
[indent][b][color=a07e91]APPEARANCE[/color][/b] The Iris is not only named as it allows one to harness the power of vegetation, but it is also ocular in shape and size. It has flowers and leaves embossed on its white surface. It's meant to be worn much as it appears. 
[b][color=a07e91]ABILITIES[/color][/b][list][*][b]Plant Growth[/b] - Capable of causing rapid production of plants from seeds, ground, or inert vegetative material (i.e. her wooden staff.) The size and type of plant depends on how much power she expends. Fyg is quite fond of vines and nicely calls them 'her little helpers.' [*][b]Restoration[/b] - Fyg can rejuvenate or revive a dead plant. She can even go as far as to remove pestilence and plague. That being said, she couldn't cure an entire field, but she could do enough for someone to survive off of. [*][b]Speak with Plants[/b] - It works just as it sounds. Of course, the information exchanged is incredibly elementary, but it's good enough to not get lost in the woods.[/list][/indent][/indent][/indent][/indent][/indent]
[img]https://i.imgur.com/Fg50VuF.png[/img][indent][indent][indent][indent][color=467426][b]FLAWS [color=691f19]|[/color][/b][/color][list][*]Flighty [*]Fickle [*]Unkempt [*]Incessant Talker [*]Blunt & Crass [*]Untrusting [*]Argumentative [*]Headstrong[/list]
[color=467426][b]SKILLS[color=691f19]|[/color][/b][/color][list][*][b][color=a07e91]HEDGE ALCHEMY [/color][/b]While nothing that could rival a well-tended lab, Fyg concocts her own poultices and elixirs. They're mostly for tending to wounds and ailments, but she knows a few that could wreak havoc on one's body. She's also aware of certain volatile mixtures. [*][b][color=a07e91]MERCANTILE [/color][/b]One might argue that talking circles around someone and goading them into lowering the price or changing the exchange rate might not be the most important skill. Still, it's kept Fyg alive. [*][b][color=a07e91]APPRAISAL [/color][/b]A bit of spit and a good shine, and Fyg can give a decent prediction about varied and numerous valuables. If she tells you it's worth nothing, be skeptical. [*][b][color=a07e91]ACROBATICS [/color][/b]To traverse the ruins of the Great Plains, one needs to be fleet of foot and agile of fingers. Fyg is quite nimble and graceful when she needs to be. [*][b][color=a07e91]CARTOGRAPHY & MINOR STAR READING [/color][/b]This is the only skill that Fyg cultivated out of a curiosity instead of a necessity. She loves making maps and star charts. They may not be entirely accurate, but they're better than a blank sheet of parchment and your head in the sand. [*][b][color=a07e91]FIGHTING DIRTY [/color][/b]Sure, she can summon plants to her side, but a show of magic is not always needed or warranted. Fyg knows her way around taking out opponents without too many moves wasted. Does she feel good about it afterward? Sure. Why wouldn't she? [*][b][color=a07e91]BOTANY [/color][/b]She can summon and speak with plants. This skill comes with the territory.[/list][/indent][/indent][/indent][/indent]
[img]https://i.imgur.com/Fg50VuF.png[/img][indent][indent][indent][indent][color=467426][b]BIOGRAPHY [color=691f19]|[/color][/b][/color] 
Fyg grew up in the Great Plains underneath an old stone structure of hands, their moss-covered digits reaching towards the skies. Her mother, a strange woman by the name of Bautild, always told her that it was a monument to the old, believed to be false, god Kheris. The older woman would then spit the seeds of her fruit to the ground and wipe her lips before laughing. “Leave the men to their gods, and let them eat each other from the starvation of that divine grace.”

The young girl was a spry thing of curiosity and tangled silver hair. She’d climb ruins, run across the plains, and “tame” any animal she came across. Her mother taught her the ways of her people, how to survive and thrive in an environment filled to the brim with consequences. While the two lived alone, traveling caravans would stop by often to trade goods. Fyg would hear stories of the world. She’d hear about the dwarves of the mountains, the great Etrid, the destroyed throne of Kheris, the deep woods of the druids and long-forgotten elves, and the haunted ruins that dotted the plains. Having received a map from one of the merchants, she marked all these fantastical spots for further exploration. Her mother watched her and said nothing, except for when Fyg became curious about the forests. Bautild would always shush her with stories of relics and formulas for various “potions” that she crafted.

Fyg was a teenager when she came across a settlement south of one of her favorite ruins by the Hands of Kheris. There she became fast, if not chatty, friends with several of the villagers and entreated them to the secrets that her mother shared. When she returned home, the pitch of night clawing at the sky, Bautild chastised her with vitriol that had never graced her voice before. She grabbed Fyg’s chin and held it tight as her golden eyes pressed into her daughter’s. She begged the girl to never return to the village and never speak of their life again. Fyg nodded, eyes filled with tears. She’d never seen her mother so scared before.

Unfortunately, it only took that fateful day to incite flames upon their quaint home. It came, months later, in the form of figures bearing torches. Fyg didn’t remember much of that night, sleep and terror taking an equal part of her memory. What she did remember was her mother’s hands feverishly shaking her awake and telling her to grab what she could. Then there was their hurried sprint across the plains. Fyg turned back once to see her mother face the figures in the darkness. She could have sworn that light both otherworldly and natural poured from Bautild. The shadows called her a “wytch” and Fyg her “wytch spawn.”

They took shelter in some labyrinthine ruins far from where Fyg grew up. In the hazy light of the morning, Bautild kissed her daughter’s forehead before wrapping her in her old red cloak. That would be the last time Fyg would see her. The bleary image of her silhouette against the horizon before nothing. Fyg would spend the rest of the week numbly wandering the ruins around her, doing the bare minimum to take care of herself. One day, an old stone pathway gave way and sent her plummeting into the depths below. The incline was too steep and slick for her to climb back up, and so she had to traverse the ruin's innards to find her way out.

Of course, there wouldn't be a story if she didn't find something down there. After some time, there was a light at the end of a long stone tunnel. She found herself in an ancient arboretum. In the middle was a massive tree that poked out above the ceiling and into the sky above. That was her way out. Unfortunately, the branches were too high for her to reach. In her desperation, she caught sight of something that didn't belong. A skeleton jutted out from the trunk of the tree itself. It was only visible from the waist up, and its boney arm was outstretched and held aloft by vines. In its hand was a gorgeous wooden staff, seeming to sprout from the tree itself. Yet, what caught Fyg's attention was a glowing object in the skeleton's eye socket.

Assured that she had no other choice, she grabbed it. It was warm in her hand, and the grass underfoot awoke and sprouted anew. Yet, nothing else happened. Fyg stared between the skeleton, the tree, the staff, and her escape. She could die down here, or [i]she could[/i]... one has to remember that she was a teenager in the middle of the Great Plains just having lost her mother to the faceless hunters in the night. Reason wasn't her bedfellow as she did what she had to to survive.

That day changed Fyg. She transitioned from a wide-eyed youth interested in what the world had to offer into a wry adult that wanted to take those offerings from the world. This was set in motion by a traveling grifter by the name of Fergus Nort who thought her powers and skills were useful. She made a living off brewing the alchemical elixirs and poultices that her mother showed her as a child, looting ruins she came across, selling coordinates of said looted ruins (omitting that she [i]had[/i] removed the valuables,) and selling said valuables to the highest bidder. It helped her carve out a living amidst the transient turmoil of the Great Plains. Fyg was referred to by the loving moniker "Grass Wytch," which she denied vehemently while secretly reveling in such a title. 

Time passed as it was wont to do, if anyone knew how to make it stop Fyg would be interested in having a word. After a while, shady business tactics became notoriety and said notoriety became problematic. Fyg decided to let her hustle across the Great Plains air out and head South. Of course, this wasn't entirely by coincidence. During the years that followed Bautild leaving, she'd learned of the ones responsible for her mother's disappearance all those years ago. The Third Moon had made an enemy, even if they didn't know or care. 

Upon hearing of the Inquisitor's abdication of the throne to the prince, soon to become King, Fyg needed to see the entire thing for herself. A part of her wanted revenge. Another part wondered if her mother would be there. And the last part of her, the strongest instinct she possessed, wanted to make some more coin from the fools of Etrid.[/indent][/indent][/indent][/indent]
[img]https://i.imgur.com/Fg50VuF.png[/img][indent][indent][indent][indent][color=467426][b]PERSONALITY/MOTIVATION [color=691f19]|[/color][/b][/color] Fyg is an odd duck. Which is ironic, because sometimes ducks find her interesting. It may be her proclivity to create fruit and seed-bearing plants and feed fowl, bird, rodent, or otherwise from the bounty. She's quite close to being known as a "pigeon wytch." Yet, it's those actions that offer true insight into herself as a person.

She isn't cruel or corrupt, but her nature is much like running your hands harshly over bark. It may be uncomfortable and a little painful, but it doesn't provide any lasting damage and may take care of a forgotten itch. Fyg is slow to make friends but quick to make associates and "meat shields." A fast talker and even quicker with her hands, she can weave a ring of words around anyone with the competency of a scholar. Are those words born from eloquence and sensible sentence structure? Maybe one shouldn't listen too closely. 

Fyg is slow to anger, hard to trick, and [i]very[/i] hard to love. It might have to do with her fondness for the dirtiness of nature, proclivity to have heated discussions with trees, and tendency to be a roost for an exceptional amount of city birds.

[color=467426][b]RELATIONS [color=691f19]|[/color][/b][/color][list][*][b][color=a07e91]BAUTILD AESCAU [/color][/b][i]Mother[/i] Despite their separation at Fyg's formative years, she still holds her mother in the highest esteem. She has no idea where to look for her, and fears that finding her would only provide problems for Bautild. Still, they did not part on harsh terms. [*][b][color=a07e91]FERGUS NORT [/color][/b][i]Partner in "Crime"[/i] Someone had to teach Fyg to be a shady grifter. Yet, little did Fergus know that Fyg would become even shadier than himself. While they are friends, there's a bit of a rivalry there. [*][b][color=a07e91]ORDER OF THE THIRD MOON [/color][/b][i]Religious Organization[/i] Can suck an anatomical part that she doesn't seem to own, but it's honestly anyone's guess on whether she's bluffing or not. [*][b][color=a07e91]PIOTR [/color][/b][i]Her Animal Familiar?[/i] A fat, gray dove with a black beak and even blacker eyes. He finds himself a traveling companion of Fyg. He's quite judgemental of her decisions, or at least that's the entitlement Fyg imposes onto him.[/list]
[color=467426][b]SECRETS [color=691f19]|[/color][/b][/color]
Bautild has kept many things from her, and she in turn has kept many things from Piotr.[/indent][/indent][/indent][/indent]
[img]https://i.imgur.com/Fg50VuF.png[/img][/hider]