When you have given your life to an arduous task, you must take solace in your absolution. Life is a wonderful thing, and Liz enjoys it as well as she can. There is always a reason to be on guard she has found in her travels. A hand close to your side and a stance in your everyday movements. This doesn’t keep her from smiling, or talking to those around her. She adores people and their stories and would have loved to be a scholar in another life.
Approaching her is met with a calm spread of her feet and a hand on her hip. She’ll wave to you and offer you to come talk to her with a bright smile and a gaze of interest. Talking to her isn’t exactly the most exciting. She wants to hear about you and your travels. Things you have seen and information you can share. Offering you a drink or a quick game of cards to pass the time. If you ask her about herself she’ll give you an answer. Pestering her might get her to tell you a tale rife with metaphors and allegories to old tales.
There is always a part of her hunting around her. Looking for something wrong, the trail, the piece of the riddle she is missing. It isn’t that she is defensive, it’s that she is cautious. Not taking note and keeping an eye open has hurt her in the past. A mistake away from abandonment of her duties. Of course, sitting down with some good company, that can’t hurt.
The Hunt is always on. Liz has given her life to it and cannot be derelict in this calling. From her research in her idle time to her tracking in the field. Training in the yard and focusing herself on her task. There is not a moment that goes by that she doesn’t spend on this task given to her. She wants to make friends and contacts of those around her that aren’t marked. Find the people she can help and protect and do all she can for them. Whatever she can give back to the world and it’s inhabitants she will try.
She prefers to train alone, but always welcomes a hand. If she is sitting around looking bored it is because she is exhausted and trying to gain the strength to lift herself. Talking to people as she passes is more of an exercise in her skills of intrigue and information gathering than a genuine affair. Keep distance and don’t let anyone be used against you. Yet keep close enough to come to their aid if called on. Remember, her instructor would say, every idle moment is a moment to practice.
A young woman, not a girl, as she will tell you. Standing just around 5’11” and weighing in at a toned 57 kilograms. Marked from birth for the Hunt, her training and work has touched her body in mysterious and painful ways. White hair, the color lost some time ago from her extended magick use and worn in braids. Milky white eyes that are inset with stark red irises from looking to the abyss for so long. A pert nose and full lips give her face an alluring attention. Her makeup is dark around the eyes and neutral to give her a nude look.
Her skin is soft and cared for where she can, spending long nights bathing herself and going over notes has given her time to care for each part of her. Trying to look good and be attractive can help in some cases, or she just cares enough to take care of herself. However, she is noticeably scarred from her journey in life. The most notable being the large scar running across the right side of her face. A few come up from her collar onto her neck, some marks on her arm and you can assume more unseen.
She dresses like some function punk fashionista Her clothing is crafted from the finest materials but her travels have left them slightly worn. A plain colored blouse around the bodice, usually white. She usually wears an open simple grey military jacket , the patches long removed and the piece tailored to be tight on her. Dark black wetlook leggings hug her legs but give her ease of movement. Her boots, the same shade as her leggings, are underknee and have a slight three inch heel in the back. A plain brown leather belt a couple of inches thick runs around her waist, with a steel buckle with intricate designs.
Below it she wears a thick and sturdy black leather belt that often has pouches hanging from it, depending on what she has adorned herself with. Most days she has a pair of headphones on her head or around her neck. A cord running to a white iPod in her back pocket. Around her wrists are a few leather straps with brushed steel plates in them with lost languages inscribed in them. Wrapped around her neck is an inch wide black choker with a clear white gemstone set in a polished silver raven.
Oil Painting of Iowczyni Elizabeth Winogrodzki
Blade Master (3) (brawn)
“Swiftness, not style, child.” -Elder Teacher Winter
Trained from an early age by one of the few Elder Teachers of the Hunt. Her skill is mostly trained in the use of long swords, though she can adapt to any one she picks up. However her style in each form may be rusty, in an attack she is serene in her movements and the ease of her blade. Become one with the sword in your hand and to vanquish those set before you, as she was taught.
Alchemy (3) (brains)
“I have never met a drink I didn’t like.” - Gretzki the Gatekeeper
Filled with ingredients, she searches the world for the right pieces of her recipes to craft potions, powders, and elixirs to suit her needs. From a simple pot to give her strength when it is called for, to a drink that might invigorate her and make the pain soothed. It is an art in and of itself, but with enough campfire light and time she can blend it all.
Attunement (2) (brains)
“Our world is filled with little things for little girls to play with.” - Master Kaczka
Looking around her, feeling the pulse of life in the world. Liz has found a serenity in the natural order of things and is aware of the things that man and monster have done to change it to their will. Things that do not belong and are unnatural are easy for her to gaze upon and toy with.
Tools of the Trade (2) (brawn)
“This one can hurt you, or it can hurt them, depending on how careful you are.” - Craftsman Zdnowski
From a shortbow to a small climbing tool. Whether it’s a handcrafted item or a hand me down from the older generations. Those items that she has at her disposal or can use in the heat of the moment come with a practiced touch and ease of use to her.
Teachings (2) (brains)
“Read the entire section on Wraiths, entirely.” - Scholar Niemczki
There is much to be learned by old leather backed tomes. When you are too busy to train yourself, you can educate yourself they would tell her. She has read so many passages and accounts on the occult to the supernatural she can make a pass on what to do with these unearthly occurrences to banish them.
Reflexes (2) (agility)
“Hurry now Little Wolf.” - Teacher Cyzaka
As part of her duties it is necessary to stay alive. From dodging a blade to a blast of fire, to dancing around the edge of a pit. Liz has spent time trying to get herself used to reacting and keep her hide mostly unscathed. Mostly.
One who is born with the Mark of the Hunt is destined to spend their life in service of it. Coursing through their veins is a power that has cursed many with to be in it’s servitude. From realms that cut into our own pours the power that Elizabeth draws from. Dark arts formed from centuries of tradition and control of these tendrils of evil that flow through the few she finds herself a part of. This is the source of all that she is and will ever become, everything that will define her and what she is to do in this life and until eternity.
Sorceress of Magick
Dark Art - (5)
“You must do with this power, child, what must be done.” - Sorceress Katya
A call to the realms beyond, Liz focused her control of the dark arts through small motions of her hand. She is tied to it and it channels through her in a practiced form that she uses to her will. It is a great power, and she is it’s Mistress.
Running through her veins, she pushes an forceful wind through her hands. It is a strong and powerful push, a flurry of white entrails flow through the air as it happens
Pushing through the ground below with a stomp, she pulls an unseen cage around herself and her prey. It is marked on the ground by a low glowing purple ring with small inscriptions.
Holding a hand to her chest, a slight aura of green shields around her and grants her a defense against that which would harm her otherwise.
A cloud of ice and cold forms in her hands for her to throw with speed at prey, a trail of blue and frost follows it.
Forming in her palm, a small ball of flames forms to be used on her weapons to aid their strength in combat.
With a wave of the hand, she sprinkles a quickly dissipating fog onto the creature, making it more susceptible to coercion and control.
The Hunt (4)
“This Little Wolf, is why we fight.” - Great Master Kaz
It is their work and their order to find that which should be hunted and banished from our work. Liz is a prodigal child in her teacher’s eyes. Her bloodline and her mark have caused her to be scrutinized and pressed to become great. She has studied and trained and her touch with the other realms has all worked towards this goal. From a monster, to a supernatural being, to an event, and anything that is anything but normal that she sets her mind towards she gets half power rating added to the roll. She can track it, she can hunt it, she can trap it.
Marked at Birth
A life in servitude is all she will ever have. Elizabeth is sworn to The Hunt and her life is forfeit to it. She can pursue nothing else in life but that which would help her in her cause to banish that which is wrong with the world and protect humanity from it. This is all she can ever hope to be and all she ever will be. (Mild)
-A small etched and designed silver knife tucked into her boot.
-Assorted ingredients and small tools in pouches on her belt.
-Choker with a gem inset in a silver raven, attuned to her.
-Quality headphones and the small white iPod attached to them.
-The Silver Longsword Wyrok
-Fine crafted short bow
-Quiver and arrows
-Many leather tomes
-Alchemy kit and materials
-Bag of clothing
-Many personal trinkets
It was on the night of November the seventeenth, in the year two thousand and three. Under a blood moon Elizabeth was born in the drawing room, the attending doctor was first to notice the Mark of the Hunt on her shoulder blade. Word traveled quickly and in the dim hours of the dawning the first of the Elder Scholars arrived to see. Stories had been told of the next Great Iowczyni born to one of the Old Families. In the next few days as her parents saw their only daughter taken by The Order to join it’s ranks and be brought up. It was her destiny, and it would be her life.
Aptitude was trained from a young age. Toys meant to give her dexterity and tune her mental faculties. There were many eyes on Elizabeth that watched her, judged her, and cared for her. When she could walk she could start to train. It was all of her time growing up, with only short trips back home to see her birth family. It was in the Znekany Keep and the mountainside around it that she spent her days learning the skills and trade of her life’s work.
At the age of seven she started to wield a blade. It would be with her always and she would become a master of it through sweat and tears. From there they taught her the tools and her practicing took more of her time. By the light of candles and fire she was taught by ancient tomes the teachings passed through the generations and learned through a struggle ages old.
On the night of her first bleed, Great Armourer Bartosz entrusted her with the great silver longsword Wyrok. Forged from the blades of the great Rada of Spring it was given to her as a mark of her crossing into Womanhood and her right of passage to become an Iowczyni. It would be with her always, her blade for always. On the next day she was taken by the Iowczyni Maliaz and Teacher Cyzaka to rid a small village of a nefarious ghoul.
From there she continued to learn and grow. To be respected by her peers and earn her title. There was failings along the way, her pride caused a wraith to leave her marked across the midsection by a burn. Often her teachings didn’t sink into her and she would forget key facts. Under the scrutiny of the highest members of The Order it was either a great accomplishment or she was a disappointment. Still the rumors flowed of the girl and what she may become.
The exact deal and what it was to bring to The Order was never made clear to her. It was on a dark moonless night that she was brought to the stables. Small belongings she had collected over the years saddled to it and anything that may be called hers packed. It was a ceremony without ceremony as she was given her orders. Sorceress Katya handed her a small black leather choker with a gem set in a silver raven. Her words were quick and short directions to where she would go, and how she would be brought to a strange place. That she was to make her way there and continue her training self taught. Always they would be with her and would write to her often.
“Your Hunt is just beginning,” she said to her, “Little Wolf.”
XP Upgrades - +1 to Hunt +1 to Dark Arts