An Griffon-riding Elven barbarian with such an extreme environmentalist agenda it would put an evil Captain Planet to shame.


This lithe, tall, and powerful yet slender elf possesses a deadly grace in the dance of her hammer and the strength of her swing. A mass of tangled curls as dark as moist earth frames a face etched with rage; hate shining in her eyes as green as poison. Olive skin marked with bright streaks of paint and ink reveals the scars of a life lived among the loneliness of the trees. Clad in home-fashioned leather skins and furs, Lelwani values nothing over the protection of Nature’s order. The exploitation of the land is the ultimate sin, because it gave life to the very ones who destroy it. She, however, is not above causing the destruction of the world and destroying all sentient life, as long as the natural flora and fauna are restored and everything returns to its proper balance. Though most elves would have a more subdued personality from their long years, she is extremely young for an elf, only turning 100 recently, and her passions have brewed to anger unfettered by experience.

Though she has been getting along more and more with those in the Union of the Serpent, her one true friend is a young Griffon, an intelligent but non-speaking creature who serves as her steed in battle. She has found there is nothing like going on a hunt with the beast, feeling the power of the flap of his wings and the cold wind like a blade of ice on her skin, knowing she is truly alive. Lelwani named him Maethor, after the power of the wind in her own tongue.

Though unable to read or even lie, Lelwani is very intelligent, but her inexperience in the world of civilization and her desire to believe those in her party truly want to help her have made her easily persuadable to things she wouldn’t normally agree to do. She doesn’t desire power or riches, or truly even revenge on those who wronged her, as she knows they may already be dead because of the limitations of human lifespans. Her only desire is to bring nature to its proper balance once more, to show others to live in harmony with the land. If this is unattainable, she will destroy them all until the trees reclaim their great cities and their very names are forgotten in weeds and ruin while the world turns onward. She is truly, and will ever be, wild.


Because I’m a little cheesy, here’s her backstory in poem form. The only thing you need to know is Nith means “youth” in Elvish, and until recently when Jackel named her Lelwani on her 100th birthday, she went by Nith, as was her tribe’s tradition.

Nith, the young one, sad survivor
Guards the trees and meadows wide
From woodman’s axe and vandal’s fire
From her fury none could hide.

But righteous cause could not conceal
The anger fest’ring in her heart.
Old wounds, hardened, would reveal
A sorrow-twisted, ashen dark.

Her soul is lost, misguided rage
Drives her lust for civil blood.
Youth by molten wrath encaged,
Childhood warped to crimson flood.

Sing a song of mourning for the lost and wand’ring child,
The twisted, lonely soul who stands protector of the wild.

Riding high on swift, strong horse,
Tall and proud her tribe once stood.
A valiant and mighty force,
Painted warriors of the wood.

When she was not yet twenty-one,
So young her name had not been earned,
Slavers’ greed attacked and won.
Family taken, village burned.

Used for pleasure and for toil,
Nith, the child, outlived her kind.
Two score years her fury boiled.
Revenge and sadness shattered mind.

Sing a song of mourning for the lost and wand’ring child,
The twisted, lonely soul who stands protector of the wild.

Her last man used her on a whim
She felt her rage break through her gloom,
Used iron chains to bludgeon him,
His lust for pleasure now his tomb.

His body lay in sanguine red,
His blood she used to mark her face.
Those who saw her turned and fled
Her hungry wrath and deadly grace.

Running swift as dragon’s smoke,
Slicing through their guards with ease,
She splintered gates of solid oak
And naked fled into the trees.

Sing a song of mourning for the lost and wand’ring child,
The twisted, lonely soul who stands protector of the wild.

Now at war with all the world,
Nature is her only peace.
Evil ‘round her heart has curled
And strangled grief to red disease.

The Civilized are all to blame
In her hardened, tangled mind.
Humanity is Inhumane.
Acts of kindness are unkind.

Innocents she slays with evil
None escape her bloody war
To burn the nations and their people,
To Nature’s rule, the land restore.

Sing a song of mourning for the lost and wand’ring child,
The twisted, lonely soul who stands protector of the wild.


Union of the Serpent Leomasilfren