Lemons

ᴀᴘᴏᴛʜᴇᴏsɪs: __ɢᴇɴᴇsɪs

Hand still up!

Iquenos: In Nomine Domini

@Kal-El Oh shit a ventus mage better than mine. Rip.

Nightscourge: A Redwall Tale

Adaira dropped down from the boughs of a tree that overhung the abbey walls, landing neatly on all four paws and somehow perfectly balancing the weapons scattered around her personage such that they didn't come loose with the considerable fall that she'd just endured.

"Two mice I don't know," she chuckled with her faint accent upon reclaiming her footing, reaching out to ruffle the seemingly-saddened one's head, "and one is gloom-n'-dooming. Come on, you'll never meet a nice girl like that," she continued, a laugh in her eyes.

Turning to the to the other mouse, her quick, laughing eyes glinted at the appearance of a sword-hilt on her belt, and took in not only the boiled leather armor clinging to her that was quite obviously fitted specifically to her, but also the way the mouse held herself, the utter confidence in her own strength that she exuded. A warrior, this one, Adaira realized, and so young, too. They both seemed fairly young, in fact. She bowed jokingly and exaggeratedly, giving a broad sweeping motion to the remainder of the abbey with a colossal claymore that she'd unslung from her back a bit faster than the mass of the weapon would suggest.

"Well then, since I've not seen you two before, let me welcome you to Redwall Abbey, the place I don't actually live! I'm Adaira Blackwood, the resident Squirrelscout of Mossflower wood. If you're ever in trouble out there," she flung out an unoccupied paw towards the woodlands, "call out for me. I might hear you, who knows. I hope so." She grinned wildly. "Been too long since I've had a good fight!"

Okay, so maybe the mice could've been at Redwall for a week or two. Sure, it had been a while since Adaira's last visit. And perhaps it mightn't be a good idea to greet them with a sword roughly as long as they were tall. But eh. As far as she was concerned, more mice meant more fun, so she was as enthusiastic in greeting them as possible.
@The One @DragonKingUk

A Tyrant's Undoing

I'm always down for continuing this, and sucks about your charger. I don't think I've put nearly enough into Avad yet.

Nightscourge: A Redwall Tale

Name: Adaira (a-DAY-ruh) Blackwood
Species: Squirrel
Appearance:
Alignment: Good
Starting location: Mossflower Wood
Age: 32

Weapon: Adaira favors the use of her ancestral family sword, a great claymore with the words Gealaich Buain engraved into the enormous blade that she is immensely proud of and attached to. However, as she’s not always able or willing to engage in close-quarters combat, she’s fairly skilled in the use of a shortbow that she keeps slung around her shoulders when not in use. Two small daggers are strapped the shoulderbelt that Gealaich Buain is sheathed on.

Backstory: Adaira is a bit of a mother hen, and always has been. When she was quite young, her parents died, leaving her in charge of her baby brother Gavin. She accepted it, taking care of him as best she could, and with her ceaseless effort, Gavin was able to grow up strong and healthy, now serving as a bellringer for Redwall Abbey. Yet, Adaira could never stomach living in Redwall, really. It was too enclosed. Not enough open air, free space, trees to climb through for the wildcard that she is. She preferred to live out in Mossflower in her now-empty family home, but she spends little time there. While she doesn’t live in Redwall, she enjoys talking to the Abbeyfolk, and often comes by to visit, usually unannounced. She is well-liked on her frequent visits, especially by the Dibbuns, whom she has a knack of caring for. She's embarked on several journeys to far-off lands, and in doing so, she's fought far more than her fair share of vermin. She's a hardened warrior, and though you wouldn't think it from her somewhat jocular attitude, you might be able to see it in her eyes: that kind of thing leaves scars.

Other: Adaira has a dry, somewhat sarcastic sense of humor, which, like it or not, is rather prolific. Don’t let it fool you; she cares deeply about anybody she views herself as responsible for, no matter how many long-suffering, disappointed sighs she may heave. The Blackwood family hail from the Northlands, and thought the accent largely faded from their bloodline long ago after a few generations spent in Mossflower, she still retains a faint lilt to her voice, and the enormous blade that is her heritage. The Blackwood clan left the North after being driven out by a great conquering wildcat known as Verdauga Greeneyes and wandered for hundreds of years before finally making their way south to Mossflower after the fall of Kotir.

Airson dubh daraich de Dhathasan Chnoc! - Blackwood clan warcry (For the black oak of Fallow Hill!)

Nightscourge: A Redwall Tale

Go for it. I just want something to happen. Moving Adaira to characters now.

Iquenos: In Nomine Domini

Got it. I'll change that real quick. And noted. I'll remember that.

Iquenos: In Nomine Domini

@Inkarnate Yeah, if there's a problem, I can change it. I was running under the assumption that there was a standing military in addition to the Inquisitors, but if not, I can just edit it out real quick.

Also, just to make sure this is alright, I've made a brief edit and given her a prosthetic arm to give her a bit of the -tek side of magitek.

Iquenos: In Nomine Domini

@Inkarnate That...actually makes a lot of sense. Thanks for clearing that up.

Iquenos: In Nomine Domini

And she's up!

Etoile Lécuyer

Etoile

“You don't get anywhere in life without discipline, and anybody who says otherwise is a fool.”

N A M E

---

Etoile Lécuyer

A G E

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27

O R I G I N

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Iquenos, specifically the nobility

V I S A G E

---

Etoile is a slim, slight woman of perhaps 5'7", with little discernible musculature, that doesn't look much like a soldier. Indeed, the way she carries herself, you'd think she was the ruler of the world. Her back is always held erect and at attention, a side effect of her military training, and she walks with a crisp, snapping stride that escalates into a loud clacking sound whenever she walks on a hard surface, thanks to her hard-soled shoes. Her head of blonde hair is short-cut, falling just to the back of her neck in the back and framing a pair of narrow, calculating grey eyes in front. She is most often seen in her former military uniform; though it may be bad for escaping notice, she can't bear to let it go. It consists of a close-fitting shirt of dull blue and black trousers worn beneath a heavy mantle of white and gold. Because she's spent so long wearing it, when she isn't, she finds herself gravitating towards tight shirts and heavy cloaks.

P E R S O N A L I T Y T R A I T S

---

Calm. Collected. Unflappable. A gods-damned ice queen. These were just some of the descriptors used to describe Etoile by her subordinates in the past, and most are accurate. She is a cool-headed woman, always thinking through the consequences of any given course of events extensively before taking action. She is generally slow and methodical in her approach to problems, which has led to some problems with making quick calls in the past. She works best alone in a cool, dim room. Emphasis on the 'alone.' That's not to say she's antisocial. She simply has little patience for other people's concerns in regards to her ideas and strategies, usually dismissing them out of hand. If one is lucky enough to give her a piece of information or an idea that she deems worthy of her lofty standards, they usually receive nothing more than a curt nod and perhaps a stiff, formal "my gratitude."

Of course, everybody has another side to them, even the cold-hearted officer that is Etoile. Much of her stiff, formal, asocial behavior is prompted by a massive inferiority complex towards her elder brother, Edmund Lécuyer. She's struggled with this on and off throughout most of her life, and it is, in fact, what prompted her to go into the military at a young age to begin with. That leads into her final major personality trait: she's stubborn. Incredibly so. Trying to alter her form a course of action that she's decided upon is like trying to stop a charging bull with a piece of tissue paper.

L I F E E X P E R I E N C E S

---

Etoile was on the path of conflict with the Ecclesiae and the rest of the Inquisitors from the moment she enlisted in their military. Of course, she didn't become an officer entirely on her own merits; though they were the majority of the reason, it certainly didn't hurt being of the Lécuyer noble family. As a fairly high-ranking member of the military when the final stand of the Magi aboard Eileithyia occurred, she became suspicious. Before then, she'd not paid them much mind; as a member of the Inquisitors, she'd been authorized to use magic in the service of Iquenos by the Ecclesiae, after all. But she'd known many of those magi for many years; due to her family, she'd had connections with many of the guilds, and she'd always found them perfectly normal, nice people, with the obvious exception of their magical abilities. Nothing heretical about them; many were, in fact, devout worshippers. So, she did the one thing that sealed her fate:

She started to dig.

Over the next decade, she would ascent in rank quite steadily and, more importantly, discover that there had never been any "dark magic" within the Nsiferum. And, inevitably, she was discovered. She was stripped of her title immediately, and sentenced to death for her heretical tendencies, and for conspiring against the Ecclesiae. Before her execution, though, she managed to slip her manacles with the addition of a well-applied gust of sharp, slicing wind, and escaped from the Church.

Now she roams the countryside, sleeping in places that she obviously finds distasteful and doing her best to stay ahead of the Inquisitors, her former colleagues, pursuing her, and those stationed in pretty much every town and village, which her prideful nature makes...difficult, especially on those occasions that she refuses to remove her immaculately-kept old uniform. It is largely due to pure dumb luck that she is still alive today.

E L E M E N T A L A F F I N I T Y

---

Ventus.

A T T R I B U T E S

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Scholaris Magum - Etoile's proficiency with ventus-oriented magic comes from long, dedicated study. She is highly learned about the structure of magic, but because of her rigid nature and the educated nature of her magic, she finds it difficult to improvise, relying instead on a series of predefined spells.

Swordsmanship - While nowhere near as skillful as most, Etoile can hold her own against an opponent that hasn't been formally trained due to her status as a military officer. She uses a slim, curved sabre, a family heirloom known as Vent de Trancheuse, when fighting is necessary.

Learned - As described above, Etoile gained her skill in magic through long study. However, her study was not limited to magic; she was expected to be both a noblewoman and an officer at the same time. Thus, while her street-smarts are debatable, she is highly intelligent and knows a great deal of natural science and logical reasoning, as well as being a bit of a literature buff by her own admission.

Prosthetic - Several years ago, she lost an arm during a military campaign gone wrong. Since then, her right arm has been replaced by an ether-powered prosthetic crafted of silver metal and engraved with the crest of house Lécuyer, rendering it quite durable and entirely immune to pain. However, it also draws attention very easily.

Strategic - As an officer in the military, Etoile became quite skillful in tactics and strategy. She is particularly skillful at deducing ambushes before they can occur, and at large troop movements.

By the way, there's one thing I just wanted to ask because my OCD is bugging me: you're using a lot of Latin plurals as singulars (Ecclesiae, foci), and I just wanted to know if that was intentional, especially since magi seems to be the properly pluralized form of magus.