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History


Franziska is the daughter of a proud Filelan family, the descendant of generations' worth of distinguished officers. Her mother coordinates security for important officials within the city, her father is the leader of a platoon of combat medics, and paternal grandfather is the Aluf for the northernmost region of the Edjerha territories, up in the mountains above Filela. Franziska was raised in a household that was almost an extension of a military camp. While her parents cared for her and her twin brother Iskander, both youngsters were taught the value of strict discipline. Displays of affection were very rare.

Franziska had a promising career as a soldier lined up when she was diagnosed with the Wasting Cough, one of the many debilitating health defects to which Ejderha are prone. She poured herself into academics as a result. At the start of her compulsory military service she was shunted from the main corps into a support unit, where her family's clout gained her a position training as a field engineer. It was her job to help design temporary bridges and bunkers for the forward troops.

Being too frail to fight on the front lines was a huge blow to Franziska, who began to feel alienated from her brother the squire. As time passed her desperation grew. Franziska eventually hatched a plan to use the confusion around the Battle of Nasaja to desert her post and flee into the cityscape, intending to go abroad and try to find a cure for her condition. This was the only thing that saved her from being massacred with the rest of her unit.

When Franziska discovered that her comrades were dead, she was overcome with guilt, and chose to forego her search in favor of joining the Red Claw (a resistance group in Sovya) to atone for her cowardice. Her combat ability was nonexistant, but she worked hard to learn technical skills from the humans around her, and her engineering experience was put to good use destroying bridges, sabotaging caravans, and exploding supply depots. She doggedly worked at improving her fire breath in order to be more useful in the field, eventually discovering that she had a talent for fire magic. Exploding things was easier when no explosives were necessary. After a few years Franziska overcame her past and became a respected member of the Resistance.

Unfortunately, Franziska's condition worsened, and the Cerastes occupational authority began to hunt for her more seriously as the infamy of the Red Claw grew. Her comrades decided that they needed to lie low, and that she needed to leave the city and get healthy in order to continue the fight. They exploded a warehouse full of flour as a distraction so that she could make her escape from Sovya with a group of hired pirates.

By this point Franziska wasn't the naive rookie that she'd once been, the girl who thought that a magical cure could surely be found with a little luck and a few foreign friends, but she was determined get stronger and return to Sovya. She would repay her debt and save her friends or die trying. It is Franziska's hope that working with the Asterion League will help her to find her cure.

At least, that's the cover story.

{Franziska is too sickly to serve as a frontline soldier, and she did join the Sovya Resistance after the Battle of Nasaja, but she is far from a deserter. Her family was part of the group that brought Ceydon to power. Through them, she secured a placement in Shabak - the Ejderha military intelligence office.

When it became clear that Nasaja was lost, the rookie agent accepted an assignment to keep an eye on both the Cerastese and the Resistance (many of whom are dissatisfied with Ceydon, as their city was lost relatively soon after her coup). Franziska was ordered to withdraw from Sovya when the Cerastes army's hunt for her threatened to expose her true origins. She feigned a downturn in her illness so that her comrades would help her to exit conquered territory without getting caught.

Franziska's new assignment is to infiltrate the Asterion League and covertly study the diverse combat techiques utilized there, in the hopes of finding something that will aid in the war effort. Her superiors are particularly interested in the flintlock pistol. They also would not mind if she kept an eye on what Piraya is up to, or reported information about Auguste and the Fin du Saison that could be traded to the Ravelle church.}

The Cerastes government would love to get their hands on Franziska, and she is also wanted for desertion by the Ejderha military.

The Arsonist

DIVISION Offensive Magic
CLASS PROGRESSION Arsonist > Saboteur > Guerilla


ARSONIST - What works in Sovya where collateral damage is no object isn't necessary going to cut it in Aschere with the Asterion League. Franziska is accustomed to sneak attacks and surgical strikes, not the heady atmosphere of the battlefield. Her fire magic is powerful but it flares out of control the second that her concentration breaks.

Franziska wears a long sherpa jacket, complete with concealing hood. The coat has gaps in the back for her wings. She also sports fingerless gloves.

Melee ( 0 ) Ranged ( 0 ) Magic/Other ( 5 )


SABOTEUR - Franziska finally steals a flintlock pistol. Unfortunately, she has almost no idea how to use it, and headquarters won't be happy if she can't master the new technology before reporting back. She starts incorporating gunpowder into her flame techniques and her experiments have preditably explosive results. Her fire magic grows stronger, but real precision still eludes her.

Franziska's sherpa jacket loses the hood, and is cut up above her hips like a bomber jacket. It is also darker brown, and lined with mink or rabbit fur instead of sheepskin. Her hair should be slightly longer and less wild-looking than it started as, hanging just a bit past down her jaw. She should also have a thick belt to holster her weapon and hold ammo. Her more flamboyant colleagues have probably peer-pressured her into piercing her ears by this point.

Melee ( 0 ) Ranged ( 2 ) Magic/Other ( 8 )


GUERILLA - Franziska becomes a competent gunner thanks to her Asterion League training, though she'll never be Ranged Division material. She gains fine control over her pyrokinesis by accepting and mastering her emotions instead of ignoring them.

If Franziska's been outed as a spy by this point, her clothing might be her official (and long unused) Ejderha intel uniform. I'd have to ask McFroglegs if she has ideas for the general look of Ejderha uniforms. Whatever her costume, it should be slightly more flashy than what she's worn before, perhaps including some metallic accents.

Melee ( 0 ) Ranged ( 5 ) Magic/Other ( 10 )



BATTLE SKILLS

Level One Skill - Blaze (Attack Multiple Targets)
Franziska's fire magic creates a localized explosion, attacking multiple targets. -2 per additional target.

Level Two Skill - Blast Powder (Signature Move)
Franziska uses gunpowder to enhance her magic, resulting in an explosive attack. Both magic and ranged bonuses are added to her attack for one turn. May be used once per battle at lv2 and twice per battle at lv3. Can never be used consecutively. Stacks with buffs.

Level Three Skill - Cauterize (Regen)
Franziska stops bleeding and prevents infection by searing wounds shut with surgical precision. A useful spell, but highly painful for the subject! +9 HP per turn for three turns.


NARRATIVE SKILLS

Narrative (Racial) Skill - Fire Breath
Franziska has weapons-grade fire breath. Using it frequently wreaks havok on her lung condition.

Narrative (Racial) Skill - Going Places
Franziska's wings aid in balance, which help her to jump and to scale things. She can jump roughly four or five feet into the air. She can also use her wings to soften falls from heights, and hover roughly six inches off the ground. Since Franziska has a poor constitution, she cannot hover for long periods of time, and it would be a bad idea for her to try to scale anything that's very high.

Narrative Skill - Magical Flight (self only)
Franziska uses a concentrated jet of flame to swiftly propel herself through the air. Thankfully she has wings to help her steer, although those aren't going to be much help at Level One when she's still experimenting with the technique.

At Level One, flight for thirty seconds, maximum ten feet off the ground. At Level Two, flight for one minute, maximum of twenty feet off the ground. At Level Three, flight for two minutes, maximum thirty feet off the ground.

Narrative Skill - Flicker
Franziska creates anmd sustains a tiny flame that is good for lighting up dark places, but not much else.

Narrative Skill - Structural Knowledge
Franziska has the engineering training to locate the weak points in man-made and natural structures. She's not a builder, but she's very good at demolishing things.





MAGIC ATTACK STYLE - Pyrokinesis
Franziska nurtures and controls fire with the power of her mind. This is an instinctual mental ability, not the sort of thing that tomes and grimoires are written about. It's all down to Franziska's level of concentration.

For narrative purposes, Franziska's use of pyrokinesis will often take the form of terrain-based traps. For instance, if an attack rolls particularly high, Franziska could use her fire to blow up the key part of an archway and collapse it on top of her foe. Even though Franziska's a mage I'm keen to keep the "guerilla fighter" theme strong. At higher levels she might start making more direct attacks.


WEAPON None to start with. Occasionally uses a flintlock pistol from Level Two and upward, and also starts carrying gunpowder to use in fire magic techniques at that stage.
LEVEL One
POINT ASSIGNMENT Melee ( 0 ), Ranged ( 0 ), Magic/Other ( 5 )
HP 28 >> 38 >> 43
EVADE 10 >> 14 >> 18

Record of Events

x - Sisel gives Franziska her League orientation.

Glossary

RED CLAW - An Ejderha resistance cel that sprung up in the wake of the Battle of Nasaja. Known for bombing the new human infrasturcture, they're one of the reasons that Sovya is such a dangerous place to live. Red Claw has currently gone to ground in the face of increased pressure from the Cerastes military, but they don't intend to stay that way forever.

THE WASTING COUGH - A non-fatal respiratory defect. Symptoms include coughing blood, chills, muscle spasms, stiffness in the back and wings, and rare fainting spells as the result of overexertion. It is not contagious past the first initial months of infection.

ALUF MISHNE - An Ejderha military officer with command over an entire city's garrison. Piraya Baradel was Franziska's Aluf Mishne at Nasaja, before the city fell to the human invaders.

SHABAK - The Ejderha military intelligence agency. Franziska has been a member since she was 24 years old. Though joining this small, clandestine group has traditionally been considered less prestigious than working for the army, funding to Shabak has significantly increased in the wake of the Nasaja disaster. Shabak is in no rush to make that fact public.

KATSA - A Shabak field intelligence officer. Franziska's proper rank would be Katsa Franziska.

Prologue


Franziska raised her signal mirror to the sun, flashing it once, twice, three times, until confirmation flared up from a window three buildings down the street. Then she crouched back down behind a large chimney, pressing a handkerchief to her face in a futile attempt to block the soot.

“Five minutes,” Franziska rasped to her comrade. Only the flecks of red on her lips and slight shake of her shoulders betrayed the fact that she'd been coughing. Hakaan knew her well enough not to comment.

This was a good rooftop. Tall chimneys provided both cover in the form of smoke, and a scrap of warmth to tide them through the wait. There were five reasonable points of egress, two of which were not visible from the main road. The view was unobstructed enough that it would be difficult for hostiles to sneak up on their position undetected. All of Sovya stretched out before them, colorful brick buildings and tent bazaars covering over the corpse of old Nasaja. The remaining limestone towers and archways jutted jaggedly up from the earth like bleached bones.

”Here,” Hakaan handed Franziska a scroll. “For you. Found you this at the pub. Took a few weeks, had to drink in a whole lotta places, but you know me - I always wanna step up for the team.”

Hakaan was grinning. The parchment looked like it had seen better days. It was cracked and yellowed, and much of the print had been blurred and warped by ale stains. Rips in the lower half suggested that it had seen the wrong side of a bar fight.

”Recruitment literature," Franziska deadpanned. "For the Asterion League.”

She brought the document to her lips, then puffed. It withered to ash between her fingertips.

“Hey, now, what’d you go’n do that for? You gotta remember the address.”

”I’m going to remember the address.”

”You might not remember the address. ******** Murzim, s’fulla cowards getting rich offa both sides of the war. There’s all types there. I hear Aschere’s so chock fulla goods they could send us enough soap for a year an’ not even feel it.”

”There won't be a problem.”

What was he trying to get her to say? It would not be onerous to find the Asterion League. They recruited widely.

Franziska raked her claws across the rough brick of the chimney, sharpening them back into points. An old habit. This rooftop was good but not perfect. The sky was open – too open – and a Pennier could fly overhead at any time.

She tugged her hood lower, in the hope that it would help calm the tension in her gut. It did not.

Five more minutes. The silence stretched taut between them.

”My room,” Franziska finally cut the tension.

She knew what her own voice sounded like – low and gravelly, each syllable speaking volumes about the state of her throat. Hakaan would understand that she was terse out of habit, not haughtiness.

“We’ll burn it when you’re gone. There aren’t gonna be any tracks, Frannie. No stray hairs for their mages to work hexes offa. C’mon, relax. Didn’t I teach you everything you know?”

”No, I mean-“

Franziska’s brow furrowed. She didn’t know what she meant. Whatever it was, it probably wasn’t very sensible, and that was bothersome in and of itself.

Living in an abandoned building not exceptionally comfortable. The days were cold, the nights too long, and the only thing the rats were good for was target practice. But she knew that place like the back of her hand. She could predict how the dust motes on the windowsills would shift if there was an intruder, which buskers were brave enough to set up in the alleyway just south before the sun rose, where the stray cats would go. It was… comfortable. In it’s own way. Like the taste of blood in the back of her mouth, or the thick, scratchy wool of her battered old coat.

Now she was leaving.

“The Asterion League, Hakaan.” She brushed the grit from her palms. “All races. All nations. Elite combat divisions. And all they do is slay wild beasts? I don’t buy it. Auguste Renoire is Asterion League. It’s a refugee camp for misfits and malcontents.”

”Like you.”

”… precisely.“

Franziska would not trust people who were like her as far as she could throw them.

”Frannie-“

“It’s time.” She interrupted. “We’re go.”

She shifted her weight on the roofing tiles, fanning her wings out in order to maintain balance. The wind was high. The clouds were low. She could not survive a fall from this height, but she needed to move or let her nerves consume her.

Franziska’d said too much already, and the tension was not leaving.

”Right.”

The old man hefted his crossbow, ready to provide covering fire if someone noticed her working. He could be professional when he wanted to be. Franziska respected that. She left Hakaan to scout the angles while she cupped her hands in front of her face and blew on her palms. Her breath grew warm, then warmer, until finally she’d conjured up a thin stream of flame which scorched her fingers and singed her gloves.

Franziska steadied her respiration and the flame snaked into a spiral, curling in on itself. Fire was the only element which had a life of its own. It needed to consume to survive. But Franziska wouldn’t give it that. She was in control.

”Ready,” she told Hakaan.

”Then let’s do it.”

The flame arced up through the air, and Franziska felt sweat pool at the small of her back. Almost there, and all she could think about was that damn cat that kept getting into her store of dried meat, the one that lived in the alley out back. It was having kittens. At first the beast had annoyed her but now she knew that paths that it would take when it ventured into her territory, understood the patterns of its life, and that was gone now, she just-

Franziska’s tiny ball of flame crashed into one of the support timbers in the building across the street that Nesrin doused with kerosene the night before. She rose to her feet and spread her arms wide, feeling her jacket whip back in the breeze, and the fire could have whatever it wanted now, it tore hungrily through the grain warehouse. It didn’t need the force of her will to guide it now, it knew what to do all on its own, exploding the flour in the storage bins and sending panicked humans fleeing from the building, but Franziska didn’t care if it needed her or not, because she could feel it triumph, and that-

”Hey! Frannie!” Hakaan snapped his fingers in front of her face.

”Yes. Yes, of course. It’s done.”

Franziska closed her eyes, shook her head clear, and let the fire go.

”One mile to the docks while the guard runs here to clean this up. The ship is waiting. Come on!”

She nodded, dutifully waiting for Hakaan to ready the rope ladder down into a back alley.

What foolishness had she been going on about before? No matter. It was a good thing that Franziska was leaving this place. Her time with the Asterion League would be productive.

Children wailed and alarm-bells rang. Horses spooked and stampeded. Pure chaos had erupted blow her, but Franziska was perfectly calm.