Name: Sigrun Kondrat
Pseudonym: -
Titles: -
Age: 42
Race: Dwarf
Hair Color: Black
Eye Color: Grey
Height: 124cm (4'1")
Weight: 78kg (172lb)
Details
Occupation: Engineer, Alchemist, Artificer
Personality: Sigrun alternates between exactly two states of mind: single-minded focus and manic agitation. In the former, she dedicates herself exclusively to the achievement of a pre-ordained task, for example finding out the exact balance of ingredients for her latest artificer recipe. Sacrificing food, sleep, interaction, and all other luxuries for days on end, she only emerges from her morbid fugue once she either achieves her goal or reaches the limits of her legendary dwarven constitution. In the latter, she comes across as feisty, distracted, and scatterbrained, cheerfully chattering away as her hands dance in merry havoc between items of interest. If things don't go her way, however, she quickly becomes impatient, impulsive, and violent.
Her people skills range from minimal to non-existent: minimal when conversing with other dwarves, non-existent otherwise. She talks as much to herself or to her golems as to anybody around her, often posing random queries that a normal person has no chance of answering. Although she is not averse to cracking jokes, her sense of humour is one only she herself can understand. Very few are able to keep up with her in either state of mind, but she is quick to dismiss this as a shortcoming of the weak and useless. Why should she care if the uneducated, unenlightened masses are unable to get out of the path of her golems? Why should anybody care if such valueless fodder happen to be standing in the sights of her boomstick? They are of far less importance to her than the tools of her trade, as she sets about scouring the world for answers to her ultimate question.
How can she live forever?
Appearance: Thin of chest and slender of shoulder for a dwarf, Sigrun's petite appearance has deceived many an unfortunate fool. Her wiry muscles are built for athleticism and endurance rather than sheer strength, but she still retains the characteristic relentless determination and constitution of her kin. She favours not the elaborate hairdresses popular in dwarven high society, instead cropping short her raven-black locks and tying them in utilitarian pig-tails. Wispy stubble coats the lower curve of her drawn cheeks and the bottom of her chin, again not as fastidiously maintained as matronly fashion demands. Her cheekbones are pinched and stern, her lips constantly pursed in disapproval or concentration, and her eyes granite rocks set beneath pale brow.
Her choice of clothing also follows from a combination of disinterest and spite. The only concession she makes towards cultural expectations is her ensemble of billowing white dresses, and even these are for the most part grimy and tattered beyond respectability. Beneath them she wears leather jerkin, breeches, and heavy steel-shod combat boots, along with a utility belt at her waist. Most distinguishably, her left arm and leg are iron-forged prosthetics just about able to duplicate the range of movement of their amputated flesh counterparts. She makes little attempt to hide this disfigurement, and is generally too caught up in her own world to notice any snide remarks aimed in her direction.
Sigrun speaks in a husky contralto disguising a significant amount of lung-power for a body so small.
Belongings
Weapons:
- A dwarven dragon-belcher that Sigrun fondly calls her 'boomstick'. Essentially a fire lance, a cheap mass-production matchlock handcannon mounted at the end of a metre-and-a-half pole, that can be used effectively without any particular aptitude or training in handling firearms. Depending on the cartridge loaded into the breech, a dragon-belcher can be configured to fire solid shot to a range of approximately a hundred metres, pellets of metal and stone with an effective kill cone approximately five metres wide and deep, or a metre-long gout of sticky flame lasting for five seconds. A standard dragon-belcher is not as accurate or as destructive as an Alerian musket (which in any case was adapted from a design originally stolen from the dwarves of Gunnbad, 'strewth!) but is far more reliable and more powerful than equivalent human-crafted firelances found in Cathay and Nippon. The barrel is forged from iron, the haft hewn of thick oak, and a leather strap allows Sigrun to sling it on her back when it's not doubling as a walking stick. The cartridges for such a weapon are relatively bulky and time-consuming to manufacture, and at any time Sigrun carries three solid shot and two of both other types on her belt. The dragon-belcher is single shot, and takes nearly ten seconds to reload. It doubles as a club in a pinch, but you don't want to fire it with a cracked barrel...
- Sigrun's prosthetic left arm in fact splits open to reveal multiple mechadendrites, upon which are mounted the tools necessary to maintain her prostheses as well as her crafted golems. Amongst all manner of sharp edges and heavy blunted instruments, these include knife, auger, cutter, wrench, driver, hammer, clamp, file, pick and more. Although not combat weapons in their own right, they serve as a nasty surprise for those who close unwarily with the diminutive craftswoman only to find their face full of stabby and bangy bits.
- A second sharp knife, little more than a scalpel, that doubles as a precision crafting tool. Kept tucked into her boot as an emergency weapon.
Armour and Clothing:
- A heavy-duty full leather smithing apron able to protect against stray bits of sharp metal as well as the heat of the forge. Ties around the waist but leaves the back and arms completely exposed.
- Leather jerkin, breeches, and belt, of less chafing quality than the apron.
- A selection of flannel dresses in various degrees of dirty white, and a hooded woolen cape to protect her from cold and sun alike.
Accessories:
- Small pouches worn on the belt, for carrying everything from coin to alchemic ingredients to two spare mana gems.
- A vial of corrosive acid, useful for alchemy and for irreversibly scarring somebody's face alike.
- A vial of smoke and thunder, useful for stunning the foe and making a quick escape.
Familiars:
- Obahyurur ('Unwise'), a two-metre tall automaton crafted from scrap black iron and powered by mana gems. Is humanoid in appearance and proportion, except for exaggerated shoulder guards completely obscuring the neck and encompassing either side of the head. Dwarvish runes spelling 'life' are inscribed across its beefy chest and glow from within with silvery energy. Has limited intelligence and is able to follow very basic orders from Sigrun, but is unable to accomplish any complex tasks without direct supervision. Fights using immense weight, bulk, and flailing limbs; is slow and lumbering but extremely difficult to bring down completely. Surprisingly vulnerable to any attacks that can penetrate or bypass its thick armour (since the delicate gear mechanisms within its body are prone to jamming, and must be repaired by Sigrun in a time-consuming and complex procedure). Speaks only occasionally in one-word sombre groans; whether he actually is dull of wit, or just tired of interacting with his mistress, remains up for debate.
- Izndush ('Lesser Bird'), a sparrow automaton the size of Sigrun's hand. Suffers from the same restrictions as Obahyurur. Currently can't even fly, due to the complexity of the movements involved that Sigrun has yet to fully understand, and thus resorts to hopping about Sigrun's laboratory repeating random words.
Skills and Abilities
Engineer: Sigrun's mindset is that of a arcanotech engineer, her focus ranging across crafted and summoned golems (but not puppeted golems or those rare golems formed and given sentience by acts of nature). Crafted golems require her to forge a mechanical host for them beforehand, to provide a power source that does not continuously sap her limited mental reserves, and to learn the rituals and runes necessary to bind magic to their automaton bodies and to kick-start the pseudo-life. Summoned golems are short-lived constructs completely enslaved to her will, unreliable and incapable of independent action and unable to survive on their own. Combined, this means that she requires proficiency in both magecraft and smithing, developing her own brand of arcanotech by using highly-specialised arcane abilities to supplement her artificing skills. Central to developing her talents is her understanding of the curious artefacts known as mana gems, adopted in rare examples of elven archeotech to power arcane automatons such as skyships, but not fully understood or exploited and prone to backfiring spectacularly when misused.
- Rite of Mana Syphoning: An hour-long ritual that recharges a mana gem by syphoning excess arcane energies from the surrounding vicinity. Given Sigrun's poor ability as a mage, she can currently only do this in specific locations: either at a wellspring or an equivalently powerful confluence of leylines, or somewhere that soul energy has recently been released due to loss of life. For example syphoning the energies released by the death of one human in his/her prime recharges one depleted mana gem to full, allowing a week of continuous operation for a large golem such as Obahyurur. Sigrun would need to exterminate an entire city worth of rats to harvest the equivalent amount of energy from such small, short-lived, non-sentient beasts.
Alchemist: As an alchemist, Sigrun has knowledge of various chemical elements and processes that a laydwarf would not understand. Her experience in such matters tends to the destructive, including the concoction of corrosive acids, smoke bombs, flash bang flasks, and gunpowder. Her skill in the arcane arts, on the other hand, comes from her constant exposure to charged mana gems, and seems to have developed as an extension of her dwarven affinity to earth, stone, and metal rather than any innate talent. For example, she cannot even begin to match the tides of destruction that can be unleashed by a greybeard runekeeper with a properly inscribed anvil. In particular, she has only one useful combat spell, and the main use of her arcane talents are in self-designed shoestring rituals. She is, however, adept at using mere alchemy to augment what arcane powers she does possess, and to the untrained eye can end up seeming a lot more powerful than she really is.
- Rite of Replenishment: An hour-long ritual that extracts a particular element or mineral from the surrounding earth. Requires a sample of the element / mineral to be extracted, and the returns are determined based on how abundant the resource is in the vicinity. For example, attempting to replenish iron in an abandoned mine would likely triple the original sample, but attempting to do so on an open beach might result in only a slight overall yield.
- Daidala Rune: Tracing the forbidden Daidala Rune allows Sigrun to manipulate up to a cubic metre volume of earth, sand, snow, or dirt for up to five minutes, once a day (period of continuous rest). All she can currently do with this is to meld the ground into daidala golems, vaguely humanoid with long neck but stubby limbs. She can choose to create one golem about the size of a man, two golems each the size of a dwarf, or three small golems each the size of a small dog. The golems thus created are mindless slaves, and she has to control their every movement (unlike her constructs, which are capable of limited independent thought), which severely limits their use especially in combat. Even when fully under Sigrun's control, they can do little more than ungainly grappling of their foe, and even the largest possible golem cannot match an average human in strength (although they are impressively scary, 'strewth!). They are also extremely easy to destroy, although capable of limited regeneration as long as they remain in range of the Daidala Rune. The further away from Sigrun, the worse her control becomes, and the effective range of the rune is no more than a couple of metres in radius.
Artificer: From a young age, Sigrun trained in working and shaping metal. Although not suited to the rigours required for crafting armour and weapons (although she can stoop to such labour if necessary), her deft hands are extremely adept at delicate artificing as well as the time and effort required for creating and repairing automatons. Given the materials required, the time, and a safe location with a suitable workstation, she has the knowledge and experience to craft any of the following recipes. As of yet, however, she lacks the concentration and focus to do such delicate work - even simple repairs - on the fly in battle conditions, even assisted by her limited arcane ability. Thus they are of no use to her whatsoever in combat (beyond a detailed understanding of how they work).
- Recipe: Dragon-Belcher: The ability to craft a pole-mounted matchlock handcannon (a fire lance) from its constituent parts, to repair it from scraps, and to provide ammunition for it in the form of solid shot, pellet, and napalm cartridges.
- Recipe: Dragon-Roarer: The ability to craft a flintlock musket from its constituent parts, to repair it from scraps, and to provide lead shot ammunition and fine-grained gunpowder for its use.
- Recipe: Prosthetic Limbs: The ability to craft her own prosthetic limbs from their constituent parts, including the various mechadendrite-mounted tools concealed in her arm, and to repair them all from scrap.
- Recipe: Humanoid Automaton: The ability to craft a humanoid golem from its constituent parts, and to repair it from scraps. Also, knowledge of the rituals needed to invoke its activation, and of the usage of mana gems to provide it with a sustained power source.
- Recipe: Avian Automaton: The ability to craft a small, flightless avian golem from its constituent parts, and to repair it from scraps. Also, knowledge of the rituals needed to invoke its activation, and of the usage of mana gems to provide it with a sustained power source.
Pinions of the Golems: Numerous questions lie unanswered about Sigrun's powers. In particular, how did she survive the incident that taught to her the potential of mana gems to begin with? Why does exposure to mana gems seem to have such a positive effect on her? How did she piece together so quickly the mystery of how to use the eons-old archaeotech? Someday, perhaps, somebody might answer them. For now, however, Sigrun is more than happy to accept the perks and make as much use of them as she can.
Character History
Born in an unremarkable minor hold called Kir Borim somewhere between Kachuck and Gunnbad, Sigrun spent her early years like many a dwarf maiden: cosseted in her adoring father's arms, learning the metalworking trade, and fending off the attentions of every dwarf lad out to prove his suitability for her hand in marriage. Though not too long ago in chronological terms, she remembers little now of her idyllic maidenhood. A short time after her twenty-first birthday, as she became an adult by traditional dwarven reckoning, the armies of Alerar extended their grip into the Mountains of Dusk, subjugating her hold in a bloodless but brutal takeover. Their arrival heralded new technology, new processes of alchemy and artifice... and the costs thereof.
Her father was one of the first to succumb to the new diseases brought on by the waste produced. His chest, once so powerful and warm, withered away into nothing as the black tar accumulated in his lungs. He died a gaunt, skeletal figure, mad with fever and unable to recognise any of the clan gathered by his bedside.
Her mother perished next, crushed to death alongside thirty other innocent bystanders by a steam engine failure on one of the Alerian airships. The devastation caused by the corrosive explosion that followed meant that they could not even return her to her ancestors in the stone.
The Alerian occupiers responded by increasing resource taxation on top of doubling their production quotas. War loomed on the horizon, enemies present both within and without, and the loss of even one of their famed airships was a loss they could not idly accept. Over the next decade, her brothers and friends passed away one by one as exertion and accidents took their toll. Each death carved itself deeply upon Sigrun's psyche. By now, she bore little resemblance to the carefree maiden of old, her growth stunted by malnutrition and pollution, her features sunken and gaunt. She worked sixteen-hour shifts creating gunpowder, melting lead into shot, and forging all forms of firearm from dragon-belcher to musket. Unsurprisingly, those that survived around her retained perverse pride in both their survival and the quality of their craftsmanship. No manner of misfortune could prevent their products from being counted amongst the finest dwarf manufacture in the land.
Pride grew into stubbornness, refusal to even contemplate the inevitable death.
Stubbornness mutated into arrogance, the belief that she had only survived because she was stronger than the rest, because she was chosen for greatness.
In the summer of her thirty-fifth year, the end came to Kir Borim. A chance discovery that winter had unearthed relics of an ancient age in the mines far below the dwarven hold. Sigrun had been one of those chosen to excavate the glittering crystals from their beds of gleaming black rock. Her dexterous hands, well-suited to such work, had managed to gather all of four before she saw the explosion light off from the corner of her eyes.
The next she knew, she woke up in an infirmary bed, still clutching the four crystals in the closed fist of her right hand. Her entire left side had been torn away, arm and leg cleanly snipped off as if they had never existed. She quickly worked out that the only reason she was still alive was because those in charge wanted to know exactly what had happened to her.
Sigrun had not survived for so long via stupidity. She hid the crystals and pretended amnesia, stringing on her interrogators with just enough tantalising hints such as to give them hope that she could reveal more. In the meantime she crafted herself a new arm and a new leg... and, under cover of her endeavours, searched for a way to harness the mysterious crystals that had caused so much destruction with but one tiny misstep. Ostensibly studying refined mechanisms for her prosthetics, she raided both runekeeper and alchemist archives for more information. Her hunger grew darker and more morbid. Two months of concentrated effort, broken only by ever more terse interviews, followed.
By the time those in charge realised that she was actively keeping something from them, she had already devised the recipes necessary to harness and utilise the power in her hands. When they decided to come for her, she was easily in the position to enact them. Over the course of a day and a night, she systematically murdered every last dwarf and dark elf in Kir Borim.
After all, if they had been destined to live forever, wouldn't they have found a way to stop her?
'strewth.
Armed with four fully charged crystals and her first golem, she then left the smouldering ruins behind forever. Her goal? To accumulate more recipes, to gain more power... and eventually, to find a recipe for godhood itself.
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