Arynne
Salmon of Doubt
Name: Ash
Caste: Zenith
Motivation: End the threat of the Fair Folk forever
Theme Song:
Appearance: Not quite twenty years old, Ash is at a state of physical perfection seldom attained at any age. She is not very tall and slender almost to skinniness, with big honey-brown eyes and an extraordinary mop of hair so red it is remarkable in itself. It is neither auburn nor carroty but a blazing, flaming and yet subtle color which is as rare as it is beautiful.
Personality: Confident, focused, practical. She has a can-do attitude and is quick to suggest solutions to problems. Usually cheerful except when dealing with creatures of darkness; there her warmth turns to scalding fury.
Caste: Zenith
Motivation: End the threat of the Fair Folk forever
Theme Song:
Appearance: Not quite twenty years old, Ash is at a state of physical perfection seldom attained at any age. She is not very tall and slender almost to skinniness, with big honey-brown eyes and an extraordinary mop of hair so red it is remarkable in itself. It is neither auburn nor carroty but a blazing, flaming and yet subtle color which is as rare as it is beautiful.
Personality: Confident, focused, practical. She has a can-do attitude and is quick to suggest solutions to problems. Usually cheerful except when dealing with creatures of darkness; there her warmth turns to scalding fury.
- Far away in the lands of the East is a kingdom ruled by three harsh gods. They outlawed all other worship in their land, and even young children must offer them prayer several times a day. The inhabitants of Bloody River are renowned miners and metalworkers; the residues from their labor foul the river and give the country its name. The gods forbid their subjects to stop polluting the river, for they are bitter enemies of the local water elementals and rejoice to see their domain poisoned.
One summer day, an inquisitive young girl from a small village went into the woods, following a small stream into a part of the forest her parents and the village priest had warned her to avoid. The ground gave way beneath her and she tumbled into a deep crevasse in the earth; the fall knocked her unconscious, and when she awoke it was to find herself in a strange cavern. The earth there seemed more like petrified bone than mud or rock: jagged ivory protrusions jutted from the walls, and the stone was splotched with blue and violet as if bruised.
Exploring further into the cave, the girl found a titanic armored figure encased in mud and roots. Too curious to be really afraid, she climbed up its chest till she came to a hollow space of some kind, which she entered. No sooner had she done so than a man appeared and began speaking to her urgently in an unknown tongue.
The girl, whose name was Ash, visited the “metal man’’ many, many times over the next few years. She learned to speak the language of the man who besought her to help him, as well as his name: Spring Thunder Over the Mountain. She cut away the roots and dug the mud from his limbs; she brought him the tools and supplies he asked for. Under Thunder’s direction she began repairing the damage to his enormous frame. The directions spilled into long conversations, as the ancient spirit, desperately lonely after his centuries buried in the ground, began to treat her as a confidant, telling her of the First Age, about the gods and the Exalted and the world as it was.
As time passed, a strange curse struck the lands around her village. Small animals, birds and insects were found dead. Hunters returned with less and less game. Even the trees seemed to fade, growing sickly and gray, and the villagers found they were exhausted, no matter how much they rested. Though as worried by the curse as anyone else, Ash never connected it with her new companion.
She had always been the odd one out; her father had come from the North, and she had his light skin and red hair. She was also slightly built, in contrast to her people’s ideal of the sturdy, muscular miner, glowing with ruddy health. Her mother often fretted over her marriage prospects, but Ash did not care. She hugged her secret to herself in silence.
The morning after her sixteenth birthday, Ash left the house just before dawn. She had received a new set of hunting weapons as a birthday gift, and she was eager to try them out. But she was interrupted by the far-off clash of weapons, by distant cries and silvery, inhuman laughter.
Ash knew what the sounds meant. But instead of running back, she ran deeper into the forest, following the fateful stream till she reached the cavern where the “metal man’’ lay, almost completely cleared of his earthen bonds. “Help us now,’’ she demanded. “Whatever you want, whatever you need, I promise I’ll do it, no matter what! Just help us. Help me stop them!’’
The golden man looked at her, sadly, she thought. “How much are you willing to give up, to save them?’’ he asked. “Your strength? Your health?’’
“Yes,’’ Ash said. She felt strangely weak and dizzy.
“Your life?’’
“Yes.’’
“Even though you are not close to any of them except your own parents? Even though they laugh at you because you are different?’’
“Yes!’’ yelled Ash, sinking to her knees. She ached all over, as if she were running out of air, as if something terribly heavy were pressing down upon her, pressing hard --
Spring Thunder Over the Mountain smiled.
And suddenly, Ash was engulfed in golden light.
“You of the skillful hand and the generous heart, I claim you as My own. This is your charge: to mend the broken, teach the ignorant, defend the defenseless and restore righteousness to a fallen world. Once, I turned My face away and left that world in darkness, but no longer. Go forth, daughter, and bring it into the light.”
When she came back to herself, she was already strapped into Thunder’s fuselage; they tore their way free of the cave, into the sunlight, reborn again together.
Thunder’s delicate Essence weapons had deteriorated into scrap during his long centuries underground, but he still had his mighty orichalcum fists and his deadly Charms. The Fair Folk were like butterflies caught in a rockslide. In the exultant daze of victory, Ash emerged from Thunder, only to find her neighbors looking at her with terror. Some of them screamed at her that this was her fault.
Even as she tried to reassure them, the three government agents who had come to investigate the curse threw off their cloaks and revealed themselves as the gods of her land. Speaking as one, they thanked her for stopping the raksha…and then banished her from Bloody River forever. The Exalted, they explained, brought nothing but trouble and danger.
Devastated and bewildered, Ash (and Thunder) fled to where her house stood -- only to find that the undead had attacked this part of the village first. Ash knelt in the smoking hole that was once her home next to her parents’ smoldering remains, and could not weep. Rage replaced fear and a new resolve came over her.
“Let’s go, Thunder. There’s nothing for us here.’’
Three years later...
HAVE YOU BEEN HIT HARD BY THE TIME OF TUMULT?
WE HAVE THE SOLUTION TO YOUR PROBLEMS!
Has the Realm toppled your tiny country’s government as its latest domino? Are undead artificers field-testing their latest necrotech abomination on your beloved peasant village? Have demon pirates made a Hell out of your island paradise?
Never fear: you’ve got three friends with a state-of-the-art war machine better than anything your enemies can field, ready to defend your freedom and your way of life. We’re experienced, we’re (reasonably) discreet, and all we ask is a small donation to help keep our baby running.
We’re Ashen Thunder. We go where we’re needed.
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