Aleksandr the Sharpshooter

Many of the High Elves’ great scholars, warriors, and tradesmen cultivate an air of mystery to enhance their prestige, but the notorious Aravian sniper Aleksandr the Sharpshooter is one of the rare few whose secrets are protected by the state itself. Within the vast and meticulous census and immigration archives of Aravia there is no Elf bearing that name. In the corridors of power his name is never spoken, and his orders are given through layers of masque and cryptology. When the Aravian state is pressed on the matter by an unusually persistent inquirer, a wall of complex legal procedures and endless redirection ensures the long-lived Elves can most probably wait the problem out. If feeding the seeker into their bureaucratic machinery is not feasible, other options to silence them are deployed. Classified though his details are, the name of the Sharpshooter strikes fear around Teleria. Anyone who has ever traveled anywhere near Aravian lands, or listened to an Elven bard in a tavern elsewhere, has heard tales of his incomparable aim. He is undoubtedly among the greatest snipers ever to walk Teleria, tested in many well—documented high-stakes battles. His arrows seem to travel at the speed of lighting and strike with a frosty, agonizing force. Massive brutes, nimble skulkers, and the most skilled enemy bowmen seeking to test their nerve against the best: all are easy prey for Aleksandr’s extraordinary twitch reflexes, sensory alertness, and tactical awareness. He assesses and visualizes the terrain of the battlefield to use every angle, corner, distraction, and element of cover to full advantage. He serves the Kingdom of Aravia both in the field and as an instructor of the most elite High Elf archers, individuals kept in the same void of secrecy as he. Some of the secret details of Aleksandr’s life are concealed not because they are compromising, or truly disgraceful, but because they are inconsistent, stumbling, sometimes painful and imperfect – unacceptable for public knowledge, if Aleksandr the Sharpshooter is to remain an unimpeachable symbol of fear and respect. Yet the enriching details would let so many empathize all the more with the person behind the legend, if only the information could be disseminated successfully. Aleksandr learned rime-shot magics in his youth in the ice-bound Winterlands, where the only residents were the Norr diehards of Port Wraith and scattered unaffiliated groups of raiders and sellswords. Among these itinerant marauders there were many small, tightly-knit bands who fought and plundered together, competing for spoils. Aleksandr, one of few High Elves to spend any considerable time there, bounced between various gangs. They helped him develop his talent, but he found it all but impossible to find a place among them, and often felt exploited. Through sheer tenacity Aleksandr eventually found a crew with whom he formed a thriving partnership, and was poised to become a famous reaver. But this did not give him the fulfillment he sought. Worse, with his skill on their side in battle, his shipmates became brazen, ruthless, and ambitious. When they proposed not just robbery but slaving, targeting civilian vessels indiscriminately, Aleksandr quietly fled at their next port of call and betrayed the covenant he had with them. Another heavily repressed fact about Aleksandr is that despite his troubled past and supremely lethal stock-in-trade, he is a good-hearted and clear-headed soul. Nonetheless Aleksandr could not deny that his talent and his future lay in battle and blood, in the twang of sinewy bowstring and lethally whistling arrows. He returned to Aravian shores alone and brooding, and was quickly detained and questioned. When found to be an undocumented High Elf of unsavory extraction, he was not turned away, for the High Elves accept new arrivals so long as they are put in their proper place. Thus he was given a choice between status as a second-class citizen or a chance to prove himself via military service. It was that, or outlawry, and a return to statelessness. With some regret at the loss of his autonomy but faint hope that he might finally feel a sense of belonging, he agreed. The imperious government Elves could scarcely have imagined at that moment what they had gained. Many years passed, and Aleksandr grew from a prodigy with huge potential into a genuine master. There are now thousands of veterans of battles all across Anhelt who live in lingering fear of long corridors, wide-open spaces, unconstrained sightlines, and the dread sound of a bowstring’s recoil — all thanks to Aleksandr and his disciples.