Fálanrimardwiliss Milriendannandromar, Falwix the Leyguard

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Titles

• Full Name: Fálanrimardwiliss Milriendannandromar (Faal-'An-ree-'mar-deel-eess Meel-ree-'en-'dan-an-'droh-mhar)
  • Nickname: Falwix
  • Rank: Knight Warden
  • Honorary: Last Defender of Philaen.
  • Pejorative: Hobbling Half-Elf

Holdings

• Manor: Sildan Milriendannandromar, Philaen

Character Information

Basic Info

• Player: Karpov
• Race: Silver Elf
• Age: ~127 - 298 (?)
• Levels: Abjurer 3/Master Abjurer 4/Incantatrix 2/IotSV 1
• Attributes: Str 6, Dex 20, Con 10, Int 26, Wis 10, Cha 8
• Personality: Falwix is renowned for his ability to trivalize even the most dire of situations. He feels as if he has seen it all, and nothing could possibly be worse than it has already been. He is also stricken with somewhat of a death wish, turning him into a bit of a daredevil at times.
• Unique Traits:
  • Crippled: Falwix's fall during the Rakshasa Incursion resulted in a loss of function in most of his left leg. As a result, he can walk about half as fast as the average silver elf.
  • Feeble: The fiendish ghoul with whom Falwix battled during the Incursion left a lasting mark upon his body, leaving him frail of constitution and strength.

Notable Affiliations:

• High faction standing with Philaen
  • Close friend of current Steward of Philaen
• High faction standing with church of Hosh
  • Offer aid and a place to rest, if requested.
• Mid-Standing with Greycloak guild.
  • Occasionally offer aid or protection
• Mid-Standing with Selnai
• Lowest faction standing with Rakshasa race
  • Occasionally, must fight off assassination attempts
• Mid-Standing with Celer Mortis
  • Questionable relationship

Story:

Childhood

Fálanrimardwiliss Milriendannandromar was raised as a typical Philaen youth. His family was distant, both in their parenting, and quite literally; he studied at Toure Damandri as soon as his parents were able to teach him to memorize read magic. From there, he remained average at nearly every pursuit. For his time at the Toure, he remained in the middle of his class, a mediocre arcanist who chose no specialized school in his studies. Unlike many of his fellows, he showed no prowess or favor for any one school of magic, finding Illusion and Evocation to nearly the same thing. His classmates found little in common with him, and he remained mostly outcast in the dormitories. That is, at least, until the first day he met a knight warden. The leyguard’s knights warden were a prestigious lot in and around Philaen, but far off at Toure Damandri since his twelfth year, Fálanrimardwiliss had never seen the austere and commanding presence of the respected warriors. Immediately enthralled by their appearance, he borrowed a ring of invisibility from the workshop to trail the knights about their business at the tower. They, of course, knew he was there from nearly the moment he entered the room. But, they simply let him follow them all day. Making several stops in the workshop and at the archmage’s quarters they led Fálanrimardwiliss about the whole of the spire. It was not until around sundown that one of the knights turned to him and threw up his hands so quickly Fálanrimardwiliss was unaware of what was going on, until, suddenly, he realized that his ring had been suppressed and he stood there, crouching slightly, in front of an away team of the knights phantom. If silver elves are capable of blushing, Fálanrimadwiliss did so at that moment. The knights laughed as he nearly turned to run, but they yelled after him “Wait!” They used the common tongue, something that Fálanrimadwiliss had only studied and had never used for conversation. It was a bit of a shock at first, to say the least.

“Greetings, good sirs…” he voiced meekly, in his native tongue.

“Commontongue, boy. Warriors don’t speak in poetry,” said the knight who had dispelled the effect of Fálanrimadwiliss’ ring. His tone was stern, yet with a measure of amusement bubbling to the surface.

“Of course, of course. I apologize, my lord.” He nearly prostrated himself, his bow was so low, embarrassment once again coursing through him.

“No need, child. But, tell me. Why have you been stalking us this afternoon? Speak up. I am growing impatient with you.”

“I… you see… well, it is just that … not … I am sorry, I do not know why I have followed you this day.” He felt nearly on the verge of tears, surely they would inform the archmage and have him expelled from the spire.

“Out with it, youngling. If I don’t get my answer, you’re going to find yourself in more trouble than you will be able to handle.” The echo surprised Fálanrimadwiliss, he believed that he was being completely serious.

“I… I was intrigued. I have never seen a leyguard before, you see. I have been a student at the toure since I am just twelve.” Noticing his mistake, he leaped in place “since I was just twelve!” With that, the knights chucked yet again.

“What’s your name, boy? In commontongue.” Puzzled by the question, Fálanrimadwiliss waited with his mouth agape.

“I… My name is Fálanrimadwiliss, sir.”

“Hmm… Well, in Common, that would be something like Falwix. How does that sound to you, kid?” Relief spread across his face when he realized the knights had not been angered that he did not have a common name, but rather they looked relieved, and two of them talked between themselves.

“…Falwix? Yes. Falwix is about right. Certainly. It sounds just fine to me.”

“Well, good. Falwix it is.” He stepped towards the bowing elf, and rested his hand on his shoulder, lifting him up. “We’ve been sent here to find you. Little did we know, you were the one following us all day. Your archmage has named you the best candidate for entry into the Leyguard. It has come to our attention that you have not chosen a specialization, nor are you spellgifted. Those are, of course, two of the most important factors for entry into the guard. Are you interested, Falwix?”

He stood there for a moment, wondering if he had misunderstood the man in front of him. Surely, he was not just extended an invitation to the most elite magical guard in the north of Therra, possibly even the world. “I… what? Do you mean that?”

“Of course, I don’t say things I don’t mean. Well, boy. Yes or no? If you say no, you’ll never hear from us again. You have already wasted a good part of our day, so out with it.”

“…Yes, I will join the Leyguard, sir.” His voice and body were trembling with excitement, surely this must be an illusion spell cast by one of his peers.

“Well, then we’re off. Take my hand. Unit! Form up. We’re going to take a shortcut back home.” Seconds later they dematerialized with a light hissing sound, only to arrive at a teleportation deck upon the top of the Leyguard’s headquarter tower in Philaen. Falwix followed the knights inside and eagerly began his training.

Early Adventures

After the rigorous fifty year training to enter into the Leyguard, Falwix served as a guardian of Philaen for nearly 200 years, trained in the sword and the spell. He rose in the ranks of the Leyguard, but his inaptitude for magic held him back. He found that focusing on more specialized aspects of magic was more to his liking. In the few battles Falwix took part in during his service to the Leyguard, he discovered a fondness for the incredible utility of the abjuration school. His focus on the desire to increase his ability with protective magic led him to seek training as an abjurant champion, defensive specialists of the Leyguards legendary away teams.

During his service in Philaen, he met a silver elven maiden of a prestigious family. He courted her for twenty years before marrying; his parents were shocked by such a short courtship. He bore two sons by her, both of whom were gifted in abjuration. He sent them to Toure Domandri when they felt they were ready, still bitter over his parents’ treatment of him, as a child. Domandri accepted the youth without the normal testing, as Falwix was a hero of the guard and a former Domandri student. Lady Fálanrimadwiliss moved into the manor in Philaen, where she and Falwix lived for another 55 years. The couple was adored by many in Philaen, and they were frequently invited to the extravagant balls held by the Northerner population.

Falwix’s life changed irrevocably on his elder son’s 60th nameday. His family gathered at the manor in Philaen, as they did every year on a nameday. Friends and family abound, dancing and singing were the only activities allowed. The day was full of laughter and happiness. That is, until the invasion.

The screaming and explosions suddenly dwarfed the sounds of music in the Fálanrimadwiliss manor. Shock and surprise spread about the party as alarm spells began to sound. The Leyguard’s call.

Falwix called out over the noise, “I’ll be back! Stay here, and hide!” With the last word, he ran out the door, stopped for a moment to recite the verbal component to a spell, and he took off to the sky a moment later, passing through the guardsman’s hatch in the force-rail. As he flew towards Leyguard’s bastion, he noticed the cause of the commotion.

Hundreds of gate spells riddled the bridges and platforms of the city. Fireballs and Lightning Bolts crossed, met and passed each other. A planar raid, for certain. But, this had never happened before. No force had ever been fool enough to assault Philaen. Surely the will be pushed back, in moments. But, the fighting continued. Caught in the moment, Falwix did not even notice a lightning bolt heading straight for him.

Blasted back into a tower’s shielding, Falwix was pulsing with energy, his skin searing – and his anger too. He searched around for the source of the spell, until he noticed it. A rakshasa stared up at him. Cat-like fangs shone through, in a twisted and evil smile.

Falwix’s retort fizzled in front of him. Counterspelled? So, this one fancies himself a duelist. So be it, Falwix thought. It’s about time I showed off what I can do. He called forth his spells from the morning, summoning a shield of force and a suit of invisible armor in a split second, flying towards the rakshasa as he cast. His sword was drawn, ready to bring it down upon the cat-like monstrosity. But, only moments before the blade made contact, surging with arcane power, his opponent vanished. Falwix followed through, just in case it was merely an invisibility effect—but the blade struck only air.

Puzzled, and angry, Falwix searched the sky around him. There was no hissing, so the devilcat had not teleported. So then, what spell was it. As Falwix realized, he felt a burst of energy hit his back, full on. Spiraling towards another floating tower, Falwix spun. Casting as he turned faster than he could think, he managed to catch the rakshasa off-guard. The beast’s fly was dispelled, and he plummeted to his doom.

I have to get to the bastion, Falwix’s mind raced. After a few moments more, he arrived at the headquarters of the Leyguard, to find it sporting massive holes in its structure. The guardsmen’s green coats fluttered as they scurried around, blasting at gates, and fighting rakshasa. Some fought in spell duels, others in hand-to-hand.

Falwix noticed his superiors commanding guardians from the teleportation deck. He can do the most good if he can discover where he is needed. As he flew towards the deck, he spotted yet another flying devilcat. This one was much easier to deal with, before the rakshasa turned, or noticed him, Falwix’s greatsword severed its spine. Kicking the corpse off his blade, he landed at a run upon the deck, dispelling his fly spell, and calling to his superiors.

“Hail! My sword for Philaen!” he called, running towards the headmaster of the guard. Moments before reaching them a gate opened. A shadowy hand wrapped its tendril-like fingers about the headmaster and pulled him through, ripping him from this plane, to whatever hell-dimension that beast had come from.

“Hosh’s will! Headmaster!” he cried, but before he had time to grieve he noticed a bolt of green energy streaking towards him. He threw up his arms and the bolt was deflected by his vambraces, luckily. It was an acid arrow this time. So many mages, this battle will last for hours. Falwix readied himself, locating the rakshasa that had sent the arrow his way. It began to cast again, and he counterspelled the blast. But, the cat was smiling. The same evil smile from before. Revenge. So, it hadn’t died.

Before he could realize what was going on, Falwix skidded across the deck from the force of the blow. The devilcat had set a trap for him, a summoned creature. Before he could catch himself, the fiendish ghoul jumped onto him, pounding upon him—hitting either his armor or his shield. Frustrated, the mindless creature had an uncanny moment of clarity. No doubt it was a command from its master. It grabbed Falwix’s leg, sapping the strength from him, and tossed him off the deck, to plummet to his death off the towers of Philaen. Poetic justice, an eye for an eye, or any other phrase he could think of did him no good as he fell, foot after foot. If only he had had the foresight to prepare feather fall this morning.

“Goodbye, Philaen. I am sorry I could not protect you.” Falwix closed his eyes and waited for his death.

His fall did not last very long, as only moments later he felt something collide with him. Thinking that he had died, he opened his eyes, and to his surprise he was floating gently—destruction and death surrounding him as he descended; the battle raged on. After second’s pause to regain his wits, Falwix looked up, hoping to discover the source of his sudden salvation. At first, he saw nothing; until a cloaked figure seemed to jump out of space itself, bringing a sword down precisely upon a rakshasa that stood flew in his way. It did not take long for him to notice what the figure carried on his back: the most prized and well defended item in the whole of the Disjointed Tower. The Rod of Creation – tool of the construction of Philaen, and necessary for constructing new tower segments to the city, and, more importantly, capable of holding such massive amounts of ley-energy that a mere novice wizard could defeat the most highly practiced and wise of all archmagi.

Flying into a rage that would rival that of any badland barbarian, Falwix dove towards the nearest ledge, landing just long enough to restore his flight effect. Taking to the skies, he ignored the pleas for help of his brethren, of the screaming children and women; and he ignored the rakshasa throwing powerful energy towards him. Dipping under a ray of enfeeblement, spinning past a fireball whose area would’ve found him in it and staying steady on course despite the magic missiles colliding with his force armor. He could not find the man carrying the staff, each time he thought he could make out his cloak in the corner of his eyes; the man would be gone before turning to chase after him.

It took only a moment to realize the man’s target. He was climbing towards the highest spire in Philaen even faster than Falwix could fly. A spy sent to retrieve the staff before the incursion – but, why would he have stopped a leyguard falling to his doom? This could mean disaster if the staff finds its way into the backwards hands of a powerful devilcat, regardless of his allegiances, his intent is certain.

Rising above the final tower, looking toward the group of people standing on the Skydeck, Falwix could feel the anger and hatred surging inside of him. Before anyone had noticed him, he called upon the most powerful energies he could find within himself and threw them out towards the congregation. Shimming, blinding light of every color rocketed towards the hooded figure, in the process of handing the staff to an ornately dressed rakshasa. The prismatic bolt careened towards him, but only seconds before making contact, a blade came between the ray and his body—his own blade—and, even more surprising, the ray was deflected, hitting the deck harmlessly.

“Halt, and release that artifact! The tower of Philaen will not fall this day!” His anger bubbled over, tears streaking down his face. He charged the group, flying as fast as his spell would allow him.

The cloaked figure looked straight into Falwix’s eyes and a sense of apology blanketed the man’s elven features. A moment later, he ran towards the edge of the deck and leaped off. But, Falwix couldn’t worry about that—there were more important demons to slay.

Before he could reach them with his blade, holding a powerful spell within it, a gate opened behind the devilcat’s leader. He turned and stepped through, closing the portal behind him. To Falwix’s bewilderment, his entourage followed suit. And slowly, the rest of the incursion force.

Fury and surprise overwhelming Falwix’s reasoning, he spiraled towards a rakshasa in the process of opening his gate. And before the spell was fully completed and the portal’s destination established, they collided, falling together through an unstable gate, to an unknown destination somewhere in the infinitely expansive planes.

Later Adventures

(Under Construction)