3. Fraoch

Fraoch


  • Eluriel Triallan'ravan

    She moves across Toril with natural gifts and learned skills that combine to help her evade the notice of other beings before she has first become aware of them.

    Near the ruined elven encampment, the soft light of the full moon highlights the slender form of a female elf walking westwards over to a stream. Dressed in the blues and blacks of shadows, a strap of dark canvas wraps her waist and loops her torso diagonally from hips to right shoulder. To the front, many hardened leather pouches work their way up the strap, topped of by the adornment of a set of reed pipes. Behind, the harness supports a bow stave near as long as the elf is tall. At her middle a scroll case and three waterskins lie alongside the bow. The plain leather sheath along her left thigh holds a long sword. The leather grip, cross guard, and pommel of this sword are all terribly worn and dented in numerous places. A shorter blade and a belt knife share the sheath at her right hip next to the leather quiver on which are three compartments, buckled closed. Strung along the sturdy utility belt in easy reach are pouches of varying sizes and a few carefully chosen potion bladders. A cloak is folded across one arm. Every item is secured in such a way as to prevent it producing any sounds that might reveal her presence when she would rather it not be known.

    After a wistful look at some destination yet further west, she kneels by the riverbank and reaches under her collar to tug a necklace loose of her body. She closes her hand around the oversized silver arrow-head pendant, the green thong attached to it resting on the fine mesh of chain that clads her thighs. The young elf dips her head in prayer that is both thanks for all her Lord provides her with and a renewed dedication of herself to his service, the delicate features of her face cast in reverence.

    Later, she loops the necklace back over her head and tucks the pendant under her collar to be held tight by the clingy fabric of her costume then sets an arrow across her lap. With a simple belt knife she carves the shape of an arrow along its shaft, staining the fletching green by rubbing a blade of grass there, then pressing the point of her knife to where the arrow’s tip is drawn as if to leave a metallic sheen. Long fingers reach up to grip the metal decoration that is nestled in lustrous midnight-blue hair that has a starling streak of silver from her left temple and pull the wire down to rest on her nose and ears. Thus, the polished two crystal lenses secured in the metallic frame are each positioned in front of an eye. Rising, Eluriel's deep blue eyes pull into sharp focus while she strings her exquisitely made blue-black stained bow and fires the arrow up through the forest canopy in a series of fluid movements of the toned muscles of her supple body.

    Leaving the bow on a carpet of leaves, she disguises the pale skin of her face, hands and neck with smears of mud from the riverbank. All the metal on her person is treated similarly, albeit with the contents of a horn vial. Eluriel selects a few leaves from several of the pouches that run the length of the harness crossing her front. She crushes these and tucks them into various bits of her gear to mask the scent of the oils used in its care then whips up cloak that is woven from threads of many varied hues - settling it over her shoulders and fastening it.

    The last gleam of dark hair fades from view when the hood is pulled up to cast shadows over a neatly chiselled elven face. The indistinct form of a humanoid silenty walks west to soon disappear from view.

    Race: Moon Elf
    Height: 5' 8"
    Weight: 120 pounds
    Body Build: The typical build of an elf – her slight build and grace belying the natural strength and hardiness of one who lives in the wilds
    Hair: Midnight blue in colour with a silver streak. Waist length near enough, but it’s hardly ever worn loose because that just wouldn’t be practical. She most often twists it into a couple of loops of a bun at the nape of her neck and then slides a few sticks through the bun to hold her hair away from her face leaving the rest of it flowing down her back
    Skin Tone: Near white, tinted blue.
    Skin Texture: Smooth and unlined. Between the index and second fingers of her right hand are the calluses formed by decades of archery.
    Eyes: A notable feature. Piercing, intelligent and insightful, vibrant blue eyes flecked with gold are constantly scanning about.
    Recognizable Features: The alertness and perception in her eyes. The silver streak in her hair.
    Equipment Commonly Worn: A sheath of tight fabric is worn underneath a suit of elven steel chain in blue hues that is so soft to the touch, so light and so comfortable that it can be worn constantly - even while sleeping – and without any padding required; soft soled boots, laced to a perfect fit; glasses; camouflage cloak; fingerless leather gloves.
    Equipment Carried: Longbow, Longsword, Shortsword, Tower Shield.
    Left Handed or Right Handed: Although ambidextrous, she favours her right hand.
    Jewlery or Decorations: The outlines of several drops are visible under her clothing; kept there so they wont get in her way. Underneath gloves, there is a ring on every finger.
    Commonly spoken languages: Elven and Common.


  • Eluriel dresses at dusk.

    Up by Philomena’s flower garden, belongings arrayed around her. Not this day wearing the Eastlander sheath in Legion colours that so often she has. It is over simple clothing that she steps into the aged brown trousers of her armour. She reaches down to fasten the ties on the outside of each leg, lifting the jerkin and donning it after rising. Soft and pliable. Brained leather which has stayed that way by dint of the smoking in its creation so long ago in Myth Revain. Quiet and camouflaged.

    Sitting for the choice of footwear. But it is not her intent that there be need to dodge blows. Thus are her feet shod in the boots designed to let the wearer walk silently in even the most adverse of conditions. Not that she has the faintest intention of testing their fabled silence over broken glass, lest they come to harm.

    Belt now. Not that much of it can be seen beneath the scabbards, hip quiver, and plethora of pouches and potions it suspends. This Eluriel rues as she screws together the two parts of the carved acorn clasp which holds it in place. The green-stained oak leaves carved into the wooden links are hidden all but entirely.

    Weapons harness, bow case and shield. Considering them where they lie in the grass. Folly to not have their use if needed. Besides, they ought not get in her way more than a little. Donning them.

    Methodical working over her entire body secures each item that it not shift to create noise or catch on things to hinder her movement. Right hand up across her body to silence something tied to the weapons harness high on her chest. Always the last object she would want to have silent. A pang as she feels empty space rather than bird pipes. Pain as the reasons for its absence flood her mind. Pipes whittled on Arandor’s journey south. Such was her happiness as she sat alongside Him then, as the others made what arrangements were needed to find the cure. Memories of the day he made a present of them to her. The many decades where the gentle play of the wind through them let Him know she was near, even when she wished that others know that not. Now it is from him that she hides.

    These thoughts in her head, outwards there is but a moment’s pause before she plucks up her camouflage cloak to whirl into place and clasp at her neck. All but identical in appearance to the cloak worn by near all Wolves in times past, it is in truth an old Romani cloak since enchanted.

    Eluriel is dressed. Browns for the most part, with some green decoration. Black here and there; these the items which have not required replacement since she came into possession of the brown armour which while ancient is yet new to her.

    Casting. Deception. Should it come to pass that she is seen, best it not be as herself, her affiliations.

    Servant’s Guise. Forming pictures in her mind of her clothing, weapons and equipment subtly altered to make her appearance unworthy of note. One who relies on concealment and agility for defense, with armour so light as to be but earthy toned clothing. Kuvriel becomes a woodlen half spear and short sword a bone knife. Keenshot to a crude bow which might have been made in the middle of a hunt. The shield is not to appear at all. Adding decorations of wooden beads and acorns that well fit a druid of Rillifane. A short phrase spoken is all it takes for the pictures to become reality.

    Colours betray the truth. Camouflage. Eluriel mixes up mud to draw streaks of war paint on her face. Hands moving, she voices the word it takes for her colouring to ripple to match her surroundings. But still the silver streak in her hair. If for whatever reason spells were to fail, this is the one thing sure to betray her identity. Coating it in mud and working it well enough into the rest of her hair that she does not simply replace a silver streak with a muddy one, she wonders why it is that folk never ask of this feature. Perhaps they think it simple vanity, akin to the shimmer of Belmar’s green hair. And with that in mind? Perhaps she ought one day inquire as to why it is that his hair is that shimmering green.

    Hair held back in a simple pleat, Eluriel dresses it with feathers and deems her appearance ready. A reclusive wild elf in her forest home doing her best to remain unseen and unknown, she is focused on the skills that matter; stealth, survival, hunting and hiding.

    That is the guise of the wild elf. This moon elf has yet more reason to avoid drawing notice. Two more incantations now. Pass Without Trace that there are no impressions left in the ground or scents to betray her presence. This to avoid the terror of that day when in helping to 'win back' the old Romani camp she quietly and invisibly scouted gnoll lands only to have them sniffing at the scent of her skin. Elemental protection put up against the chill of the coming night.

    Those four will last a full day. Scent and One with the Land are cast now. They will fall, but it would not do for her to walk close to an unnoticed scout and betray her presence to them. Second casts are held for late morning that they will last to cover her retreat, or before then as prudence dictates.

    Dusk turns to night. Well may it be that they watch the Wolf camp. While her elven sight that in moonlight is as keen as on a clear day is so very much better than theirs, best they not hear the gate that they watch for the one who used it. Eluriel hops the fence and lands lightly to draw two belt knives, each made from a single piece of dull, dark iron.

    Equipment Commonly Worn: Aged brown leather armour, sturdy boots, glasses, camouflage cloak, fingerless leather gloves, wooden belt with an acorn clasp.

    Lore Specialities
    Elves
    Nature
    Power Groups