Fen
Profile
Basic Information
Name:
Fen
Nickname(s):
Age:
Birth Date:
Height:
6'4" (193 cm)
Gender:
Nonbinary
Race:
Water Oriad
Class:
Warrior
Occupation:
Wandering Heretic
Guild(s):
Enhancement(s):
Ochi Simera Therras
Likes
Frogs | Wind | Swords | Aggressive greetings | Magic users | Heavy Swords
Dislikes
Artichokes | Remembering without understanding | Clothing touching her cattails and grasses | Playing music
Personality
Stoic | Blunt | Concise | Literalistic Thinker | Curious | Trusting | Loyal | Easily Frustrated | Restless | Protective
While they don't try to hide what little they knows about themself, Fen can still be a hard person to read. A very forthright sort, they are bluntly honest and rarely cynical. Their straight-forward nature seems to come from a need to confirm their thoughts aloud. However, they are still an oriad of few words. Facial expressions and body language tend towards subtlety and slight adjustments to convey massive changes in emotion. People who have been around them for longer find it easier to tell what might be on Fen's mind through the slight nuances, and know to be wary of a slightly furrowed brow.
Their own honest tendencies have led them to believe that most other people are honest- or at least, not malacious. So far, their experiences have been proven true, and their trust can be easily earned. One of the quickest ways is to offer Fen new knowledge. Often, they can be found lurking over a shoulder to observe something new with a quiet, intensely analytical curiousity. Though they have trouble saying it sometimes, or fully grasping a new experience, this gathering of new information is important to them. This can make them singularly focused at times, and very restless to learn. To understand.
Their own thoughts can only take them so far, and one emotion that they have no difficulty expressing is frustration. It bubbles up quickly when they feel stuck or their few words fail to properly convey their internal emotions. When that happens, Fen feels the need to release the tension physically, and has learned to only break things that are theirs or no one's. Once the initial frustration is spent, their body absent of adrenaline, they comes back down to their typical hard to read state.
For a select few, Fen's heart burns with fierce loyalty. There is a lot of danger in the world, and they find it their personal duty to protect them from what they can.
History
The marshland was a strange comfort, and a slow place to wake up. Crickets sing amongst the still morning lake, calling to them. As the oriad started to emerge from the brackish, algae ridden waters, frogs and birds took up the chorus. Ribbets and croaks. A variety of chirps. Then, suddenly, the sounds of voices. Whispers. For the first time in a long time, they opened their eyes. Above them stood two half-elf children, staring back.
The kids took turns visiting for a few days as they finished coming out of the water. Once finally free of the cattails and lily pad roots, they brought them to a small fishing shack on the outskirts of the marsh. An older, grandmotherly elf awaited them. The cabin, full of strange magics and materials, become their temporary home as they tried to determine who- or what- they were.
The old woman, who kept repeating her name as Ethel as if trying to drum it in, took to calling the oriad Fen. It fit well. The communication barrier was a difficult hurdle in the early days, and though Fen learned at a steady pace, the frustration that came with it led to multiple early outbursts and a few damaged sections of wall. Another lesson came soon after- things that you break must be fixed. Eventually, Fen learned enough to be able to communicate fluently with Ethel and the children- her grandchildren, as the oriad soon understood. With them, Fen became an intense learner, spending waking hours pouring over every nook and cranny of the small house, exploring the marsh with the children, and learning, learning, learning.
As time passed, their hunger to learn outgrew the humble offerings of the shack. Fen became restless. The inherent comfort of the marsh felt more and more antagonizing. They tried to let them go elsewhere, but Ethel would find any number of reasons for her to stay. Charlotte, the elder of the grandchildren, was easier to convince. When a particularly lovely sunset had fallen over the marsh, she draped one of their grandmother's shawls over Fen, and together they began the hours long trek towards the nearest town.
The town was small, but to Fen it was as though the world had opened up. They slowly started making their way around, finding new experiences with the carefully guided hand of Charlotte. There were whispers, and some people even tried approaching to get a better look. Not more than a few hours after arriving, they were surrounded by some of the more keen town members and escorted to a sidehouse, where they were peppered with questions. Charlotte did a majority of the talking, with Fen chiming in where they could.
Slowly, the town acclimated to their presence, and Fen followed different villagers to better learn and grow. The marsh was no longer confining, and they returned often to hear the quiet comfort. The restlessness never truly left, but it was abated... for now.
Current Story
Waking
After a chance encounter with one Gwen in the marsh, Fen decided to dedicate their duty to this newfound font of wisdom. Together, they leave the town, and Fen learns much.
Telurea and the Ghosts Therein
Wrong place, wrong time- Fen joins Gwen into the depths of Telurea. They join expeditions and gain new memories, but miss their swamp. Much happens down there, including a sad artichoke, among other strangely melancholy memories that leave them feeling more confused.
Sin and Sacrifice: Absconding with Fishing Mama
After the journey to Soloros, fighting statues, and all sorts of other hooliganery, the portal doors provide Gwen an escape. Another key lesson for Fen, who follows close behind to join the fishing crew in Nisalvini. Another memory is had, and a chance encounter with someone who reminds Fen of a water oriad but isn't. They're yeeted away before too much thought can be had.
Sin and Sacrifice: Tempest, Titan's Hunt
Fighting, now that they can get behind. Fen joins the ranks of battlers in the fight against the generals, but doesn't fall to the curse Dunor inflicted on people who were there before they arrived.
It's all very strange, of course, but nothing so strange as the journey that follows.
Sin and Sacrifice: Where I End
Pain. There is pain that goes through Fen as Iridus claims Gwen as a mouthpiece, for lack of better word. They cannot protect her like this. And so, it is better to make the journey as quickly as possible, for fear of what might happen otherwise.
They journey to the edge of space, and push forward into the great unknown, stepping through dream puddles of half formed memories and god knows what else.
Additional Info
Memory shards:
⟡ Whilst exploring the ancient ruins of Telurea, Fen comes across an old smithy littered with blades of all kinds. On a whim, she picks up a large, double-handed sword - and without thinking, her hands and body shift to hold it in a proper fighting stance. She recalls, fleetingly, standing in an open space with a sword like this in her hands and armoured people all around her. She had laughed, happy about something, and her heart hammers now in remembered excitement. When she gives the sword a few experimental swings, her movements are powerful, deliberate and feel very good.
Fen is a master of heavy weapons.
⟡ A restless tension fills Fen as reconnaissance and battle plans for the final push into Delverne unfold. Something about this atmosphere is familiar, somehow, and between this and her recent tumult over the mysterious 'artichoke' symbol, something stirs in her mind. She recalls a voice, so stern and biting that the mere memory makes her straighten her back and feel guilty for idling. "You, over here! Don't waste my time." A flash of steel in the sun, a blade pointed towards her own. "Show me what you've got. I've heard you have talent, but do you have guts?" Fen sees a grin that is all teeth, mirthless yet electrifying. "Show me how you'd kill a lady." Fen, hefting her sword in both hands, had spoken only one sentence in reply.
"It would be my honour, Master Liletu."
⟡ From the Fishing Mama roleplay
There is cold air on her face, fresh and soothing. The bed beneath her is firm and more functional than luxurious, but it's comforting in its familiarity. She feels unwell, but not intolerably so. She is recovering.
An equally familiar figure is seated next to her and looks up as she stirs. “Welcome back, my friend! I’m sorry the ritual pushed you to the brink. But, because of this gift, we’ll achieve our greatest dreams someday.” These words shine as brightly in her memory as the person's smile. This was important, somehow. This made her feel good, validated, worthy.
“You needn’t worry about your duties, just rest," the person goes on. "Though, Liletu insists you get better quickly, as ‘training is quite dull without you’. She’s fond of you, in her own way.” A deep, gentle laugh washes over Fen as she fades back into sleep.
⟡Beneath the starless sky, Fen sits alone. Her campfire crackles and summer insects sing, but the world feels very silent tonight. As she stares into nothing, her mind clouds in that way just before sleep and an absent thought surfaces from nowhere: maybe she should go home…?
Home… Fen’s footsteps echo through rock-carved corridors, her path leading her ever downwards. As she finally approaches the familiar painted door of her own chambers, the world ripples and sighs around her. The door melts away and the corridor splits instead into a mess of spiralling staircases, all descending into a vast cavern of obsidian stone below. A groan escapes her lips. “Come on! I’m done for the day, just let me in.” Resigned, she steps forward again–
Fen blinks awake. The dream of strange corridors and stairs and an elusive room that is hers slips away.
⟡ Fen's past few days of travel through the Empire's countryside have been gruelling, to say the least. Headaches and nightmares plague their sleep, dark storm clouds suffocate the air yet never break, and perhaps worst of all, they are left alone to their own thoughts, day after day.
Their tension is thus already at a boiling point when the final straw comes. The sky finally opens into a torrential downpour, lightning flashing through the clouds like the divine storm that took their friend months ago. Their frog Jimothy goes missing, probably off enjoying the rain somewhere but nonetheless abandoning the oriad for now. Then the small shelter that Fen approaches - the only roof for miles in this rural woodland - turns out to be a small shrine for Mareus.
A headache beats in Fen's skull again and, before they even register what they're doing, they have their greatsword in both hands. The blade crashes into the shrine's altar, splintering it in two, and it's the most cathartic thing the oriad has ever felt in their short life. Again and again, they raise their blade and hack the shrine to pieces, and when there's nothing left there, they turn their anger onto the surrounding trees. Swing, chop, pivot, swing - there is no reason or finesse to their movements, only raw power, rage and skill. As trees shake and topple like soldiers, a memory rushes into Fen's mind: this is what they did. This is what they were known for. They were a master of pure, berserk violence.
Fen has upgraded to Warrior class (Berserker path)
Tidbits:
They have adopted a pet frog, eloquently named Jimothy, who accompanies them and Gwen on their travels.
In Genny's shop, they took a mysterious frog shaped golem toy- it is appropriately named Jomithy.
They haven't found a good way to keep the lily pad out of their eyes, so while they can see perfectly fine out of both eyes, often it will leave them with a blindspot.
Often eats three meals a day, in an attempt to perform normalcy and mimic those around them.
A first indicator of their frustration can be found in the cattails and grasses that grow on their arms and shoulders. They tend to bristle when on the verge of an outburst.
Their toes are webbed, and they prefer to go barefoot.
Relations
Arlengwyn Aethril
Two peas in a murky, mud-colored pond, Fen would do anything for the person who showed her the world. Where Gwen's chaos gets them into danger, or trouble, or both, Fen is there to take what heat she can. Her excitement for life is infectious, and Fen is determined to learn all she can from her.
