In the Shadow of Titans
Nature has no compassion. Nature accepts no excuses; the only punishment it knows is death.
Location: Port Hope
Build: Tall, slender, average human build
Weight: 150 lbs
Skin Tone: Pale
Eye Colour: Pale, cold blue
Hair Colour: Long and wild dark brown curls
General Appearance: Her facial features are distinct, prominent and have a noble, warm quality about them. She is marked with glyphs and tattoos across her chest, shoulders and back as well as down her spine and neck. Her physical appearance, although sometimes entrancing to those in passing at the Whistling Lady, typically has not drawn copious amounts of attention from citizens nor made her stand out as unalike. She has largely blended in with the populace.
Wealth: 562 Crowns
ST 12 / HP 12
DX 12 / WILL 12
IQ 12 / PER 12
HT 11 / FP 11
Disadvantages and Quirks:
Sense of duty to the small group
Vow of Chastity (Marc Alcandor)
Wounded (branding marks, glyphs)
Destiny – major disadvantage
Skills (level) / Relative level
Bow (1) / 13
Camouflage (2) / 14
Melee weapon – knife (1) / 13
Guns – rifle (2) / 14
Erotic art (1) / 13
Fast draw (1) / 13
Leatherworking (0) / 12
Naturalist (0) / 12
Ritual magic (0) / 12
Stealth (0) / 12
Name/Damage or DR/Weight
Long knife / sw-1 cut or thr imp / 1.5
Straight composite bow / thr + 2 imp / 2.25
Jager rifle / d3 + 1 pierce+ / 11
She is a mystery to those around her, and often even to herself. She relishes anomalies but equally appreciates the natural balance of things. She is resourceful and can be all-knowing – she has learned much from her time in the wild. She has been constantly neutral to this point; never fighting for good or evil, as she deeply believes that in order for the New World to function, both sides must remain in balance (either maintained artificially by wars and treaties or naturally through droughts, scarcities and sickness). Her skillset on either side would help tip the scales, and this is why she has avoided city affiliations or adventurer pacts to this day.
Although she has become hardened by her experiences, she is not without a strong moral compass, mercy or kindness. Her love for living things – even the most unfortunate, despicable or vile – is unsurpassed. The years have taken a toll on her, undoubtedly as her eyes and scars serve as windows into this abyss, but it has never snuffed out her hope that balance is achievable and sustainable.
She has proven herself to be pragmatic, resourceful, and resilient regardless of the obstacle before her. As she is a survivalist, she has learned to be lethal and swift on the draw when necessary.
From birth to young adulthood, she resided with her family in a small village. Most residents were well off; her family in particular were the quintessential middle class. Her father, Dorian Aeris, vanished without a trace one evening when she was five. Rumors circled that her father was a dark ritualist who was dabbling in the unsavory, but her mother, Katrina, had always maintained her husband’s good nature. From what Hayleigh recollects of him, he was a generous soul who always gave assistance to his neighbors and would share any excess that they had. She compartmentalized these comments and simply believed it was the only explanation uninspired individuals could come up with to explain the mysterious. Her fondest memories of her father are of the humble parlor tricks he would show her to amuse and astonish her, some with props and others involving manipulating the elements. Perhaps her inclination towards magic was in part inherited from her father, Dorian.
Over the next 3 years, tensions built between her village and barbarians living in the outskirts. Although the villagers did their best to uphold the peace and appease the barbarians to keep them at bay, it was evident that it would only be a matter of time before the dams of goodwill would bend and warp; it would fall apart.
At the age of 10, on the eve of Lammas Tide, barbarians stormed her village, raping, pillaging and slaughtering as they saw fit. Hayleigh – one of the fortunate spared in the massacre – was captured and taken to a camp at least half days away from her settlement, where she was branded and kept as a slave to carry out the Warlord’s laborious tasks in the campgrounds. Others, but not all, were branded as well; however, the placing of the markings and the degree varied between individuals. To her, the glyphs etched into her skin are of unknown meaning or purpose.
At first she believed her father would come to her rescue, just like the fables spoke of that he would read to her just before bed. But no one, not even her father, searched for her. Her daily tasks comprised of cleaning soiled garments, carting supplies between tents and assisting the older women with preparing daily feasts for the brutelords. She quickly learned that they only thought of pain, brutality, primitive physical urges, and power. Punishment for disobedience and subpar labor was standard.
Years past insufferable as such, but as she grew into womanhood and beauty, the overlords could not ignore her. The Chieftain handpicked three maturing young women to entertain him and his elite warlord’s after each eve’s feast. They were expected to dance exotically and otherwise cater to every need of this high class of the camp. On one particular night, their gluttony and drunkenness worked to Hayleigh’s advantage as the Warlord whom she was assigned to improperly locked her confinements for the night. She slipped out silently and without a trace through the grove in the early hours of the morning and never looked back.
For the next 9 years, she roamed the lands in solitary. At first she prospected the idea of revisiting her village, but she simply could not stomach it. She knew that nothing could be left, and even if there was, it was nothing she would want to see. Instead, she learned to hunt and be self-sustaining. She built a home in a hollowed ancient oak and lived a simple, quiet life immersed in nature. She would make day trips into ruins or abandoned areas stuck by warfare and take novels and scripts back to her home to study. This is where she truly learned to manipulate the elements and utilize her natural gifts in sorcery.
On a trip to replenish water supplies from the stream near the great white oak, she noticed a group of four men setting up camp by the waterside. She stayed naturally camouflaged by the foliage nearest the stream, giving her a perfect vantage point to study these men. Every day they would take their packs of supplies and trek off into the woods, scouting and surveying the land, but they were always back to their camp before nightfall. They seemed to care about one another, and were always excited for the next day’s adventure. Sometimes they would reminisce to one another, about how lucky they were to be on their task, seeing the remarkable and breathtaking beauty of the largely undiscovered world. They took care of each other as family would, and this resonated with Hayleigh. After several weeks of watching the men, she made the decision to show herself to the camp. They met at the water’s edge. The men were in disbelief, but she was equally in disbelief. The men had grown more rugged and toned from their expeditions than what she could have seen from vantage point. At first communication was difficult and slow, for she had not a use for language since her time from the barbarian camp; however, it came back to her quickly, as she enjoyed nightly meetings with the men after their long days, often preparing meals and leaving small treats for them that she would come across during her days. One of the men, Marc Alcandor, became enamored with her, as she, him. They would talk each night by the campfire, under the stars about nature, the land and their experiences. She had read about this feeling; a connection that only happens once in one’s life, should it happen at all.
The season became cold, and the men’s expedition came to an end. Marc invited her to come back with the group, to live in the city. He vowed to her his intentions and spoke of the joy he had learned of during his time in the grove. He promised her room and board and a chance to be part of society again- to be together with him. The weeks past rekindled excitement in her – for a chance at a life, a real life with others was something she had never expected for herself again.
This is how she ended up in Port Hope, working at the Whistling Lady. She became quickly accustomed with the ins and outs of the city life, and just as any good survivalist could, blended in with her surroundings. She had a small room by the tavern in the same living quarters which were shared with Marc and the other three gentlemen – Wolfe, ‘Zeke’ and Trent. She spent little from her job at the Whistling Lady, saving the majority of it. Only after about a month of simple life, the four were quickly summoned to another assignment. Marc had promised he and his band of merry men would be back in no time, but weeks have since passed.
Hayleigh attempted to scry on water’s surface, but the results were always inconclusive. Sometimes the water would ripple and bubble, and other times the surface would stay flat and remain inactive. While this could be because she is rather inexperienced in this specific art, she also fears it could be a sign of something much more sinister. She worried for Marc and his companions and dreads the worst for them.
She has made friends at the Whistling Lady, ones she would fiercely defend and protect should the need arise. The idea of joining together to form an adventuring group excited and paralyzed her at the same time. Perhaps in her travels, she may hear of her father, of Marc or her village and those brutes? She wonders what dangers lay ahead in the tasks they would be summoned to?
The only thing she did know for certain was that she was ready.