Av'Ruvyen, Last Of The Battle Magi

Character NameAv'rúvyën, Last Of The Battle Magi
Created ByDrake PhyreDrake Phyre
Lifepaths— Born Etharch, Attendant, Lead to Citadel, Song Singer, Bard, Loremaster, Lead to Etharch, Steward, Lead to Protector, Captain, Lord Protector, Lead to Wilderlands, Forester, Song Singer
Age— 547


Wi Pe Ag Sp Po Fo
G6 G4 G6 B4 B4 B6


Hea Ref MW Ste Hes Res Cir Multi. Grief
B10 B5 B11 B6 3 B0 G3 x3.5 G7
PTGS Su: B3 Li: B5 Mi: B7 Se: B8 Tr: B9 Mo: B11

Skills— Ancient and Obscure History G6, Ballad of History G6, Canticle of Years G6, Elven Script G6, Estate Management G4, Estate-Wise G4, Etiquette G6, Flight B4, Flute G4, Formation Fighting, Lyre G4, Oratory G3, Research G6, Rhyme of Tongues G3, Silent Fury G6, Sing G4, Song of Arbors G4, Song of Merriment G4, Song of Songs G4, Song of Soothing G4, Song of the Eldar G4, Strain of Far Sight G4, Strategy G4, Sword G4, Tactics G4, Threne of the Chameleon G8, Throwing G4, Tract of Enmity G6, Tree-Wise G2, Verse of Friendship G4, Winged Training


#1 Father is right to move on, Mother is long dead, I just wish Ax and Az would see that.
#2 I can't change what happened to Mother but i can stop it from happening to others that I love.
#3 History is the greatest power. If I can discover what happened to Mother, I can keep it from happening again.


#1 When surrounded or entering battle uses Aura of Malevolence.
#2 When she doesn't understand something she sees activates Second Sight.
#3 Uses Rhyme of Tongues when she hears something she doesn't understand.
Gear— Elven (Boots, Clothes, Finery, Tomes), Weapons (Elven Superior Greatsword, Winged Folk Throwing Swords), Armour (Elven Plated Leather)
Affiliations— 3D The Daughters of Odrámwë
Reputations— 2D Last Of The Battle Magi
Relationships— Beloved Father: Odrámwë (Powerful, immediate family)
Captured Mother: Elyrië (Significant, immediate family)
Sister: Ax'rúvyën (Significant, immediate family)
Sister: Az'rúvyën (Minor, immediate family)
Spells or Rituals
Traits— [Char] Born Under the Silver Stars, [Dt] Essence of the Earth, [Char] Fair and Statuesque, [Dt] First Born, [Dt] Grief, [Dt] Keen Sight, [Dt] Etharchal, [C-O] Calm Demeanor, [Dt] Sworn to the Lord Protector, [Dt] Sworn to Protect, [Char] Stern, [Dt] Aura of Malevolence, [C-O] Charismatic, [Dt] Essence of the Wind, [Dt] Fey Blood (Winged & Feathered), [Dt] Graduate, [Char] Idealistic, [Dt] Master of Mages, [Dt] Second Sight, [Char] Sleek, [Dt] Weather Sense, [Dt] World Weary (Elven), [Char] Claustrophobia

Weapon Type I M S Add VA WS Strike Dist
Bare Fisted 2 4 6 2 0 Fast Shortest
Elven Superior Greatsword 12 4 7 10 2 2 Slow Longer
Winged Folk Throwing Swords 4 7 10 2 1 Slow Longest

Weapon Notes
1 Two-handed, may not be used with a shield2 May Great Strike



The morning fog clung to the snow draped slopes, the nearby murder relishing it's prey. The purity of the landscape tarnished by the splattering blood from their feasting. Dark feather's rustled from within the shadows of a cliff-side den that overlooked the scene. Cloaked in black feathers a being emerged into the morning light, her musical laughter echoing down the mountainside, clearly bemused by the bickering ravens. The long cloak of raven feathers hung regally from her shoulders, the the beaked hood shading her eye's from the harsh glare. She took in a deep breath of crisp air, her breast rising slowly as she gazed at the clouds longingly. As she sighed, a gentle breeze fluttered her skirt, exposing her legs to the cool air. She pulled her cloak over the corset-like leather vest which guarded her bosom against the chill mountain air. Her moccasin boots crunched softly into the fresh snow as she descended the mountain, her cloak dragging on the snows behind her erasing her trail.

The ravens paused bowing their heads in salutation, as their soft whisper reached her ears "Good morning, Lady Az'rúvyën!"

Smiling, her melodious voice answered them "Good morning my little murder." Their response a crackle of laughter at their naming. They returned to their meal as she passed them by. She walked quietly through the wilderness as she made her way into the valley. As she reached a snow speckled glade, she took a seat upon a small boulder at the edge of a small stream which bisected the clearing. "It's a good thing you have wings or you would be slain. Your noisy enough that a deaf man could hear you approach on foot."

"How is it that everything I do to remain silent on land still gives me away to you." The winged figure spoke as she made her way toward Az'rúvyën, her voice exasperated.

Az'rúvyën smiled at her sister "Its a matter of balance, my dearest Ax'rúvyën. Next time try tucking your wings about your chest under your arms."

"That is surely madness! How would I quickly take to wing if I needed to fight." Ax'rúvyën's horrified face matching the emotion which flew from her lips with her question.

"That is why you are hopeless when earth-bound." a soft sigh emphasized Az'rúvyën's statement, as she answered her sister's confused glare "Ax, consider that you must choose between the ground and sky. What bird would walk when they could fly, sacrifice their flight to stay earth-bound. Consider it a choice between enduring the battle or calling the retreat, there is no middle ground. To sit indeterminately between them is very foolish."

"I do not believe she understands dear sister." Said a disembodied voice belonging to a now materializing young woman unfurling her wings from about her chest. Ax'rúvyën jumped her spear twirling to point at the young woman, Az'rúvyën sat unmoving a smile resting gently on her lips.

"See Az it wouldn't have worked even if I had tucked my wings, you still heard her approach." Ax'rúvyën uttered as she lowered the spear.

"Our dearest sister Av'rúvyën has a rather different issue I'm afraid." Az'rúvyën spoke choking on the laughter she desperately tried to reign in.

"What??? What is my problem?" Av'rúvyën's harsh demand drawing spurts of amused laughter from one sister and confused looks from the other.

"Dear Av, you smell like a laboratory!" Az'rúvyën managed to hold a straight face long enough to utter the words before both she and Ax'rúvyën where crippled by laughter. Their amusement's only audience a pouting Av'rúvyën and an unnoticed shadow drifting just outside of their perception.

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