An orphaned commoner who took up residence with a local peasant family during the Thirty Years War, Lorelei Asheflour's a young, determined jack-of-all-trades attempting to prove herself among the Black Fox Company. Her father was a mercenary with the Company during the War and, after his untimely and rather unfortunate death, Lorelei set herself to avenging her father's death, doing his memory proud, and serving the company that he served to the best of her ability.
Her beginnings were humble; Lorelei's parents were commoners living on land belonging to the t'Marens, and thus were a part of the bigger picture that was Lonnaire during the early days of the Thirty Years War. Their families knew one another growing up, and, because of their lack of social station, the pair was free to marry for love without much consequence. They were young and foolish and married as soon as both families gave their blessing, but their youth and indiscretion got the better of them; their marriage went nearly ten years before a child was born. Those years were filled with work and war and keeping alive and out of trouble, tasks that seemed much harder as adults than they had to her parents as children.
Their first and only child, Lorelei was born toward the end of the fall of 1844, close to the end of the War. The winter wasn't especially profitable or comfortable for the little family, and between the cold, illness, and what was likely complications from childbirth, Lorelei's mother died before the dawning of 1845. Though she never knew her, Lorelei took solace in knowing (according to her father, at any rate) that she was the spitting image of her beloved and departed mother. A single man who'd only known farm work and then killing people for all his adult life, her father had no idea what to do with Lorelei. Lucky for him there were an abundance of local, poor families with small children who did know a thing or two about rearing them, and it was with one such family that he left his daughter and continued his mercenary way, stopping in to visit whenever possible.
Her foster family taught Lorelei a vast many, practical trades. She was helping her 'mother' and sisters with baking early on, though she didn't twitter about the kitchen with them sharing secrets and gossip as they did. She's always been quiet and kept to herself, choosing instead to spend as much of the ordeal as possible practicing and making notes to improve her performance. When life in the kitchen began to grow tiresome and she'd steal out to the woods, her 'brothers' would include her in their wrestling matches and games of hide and seek. She's still especially gifted at climbing trees, and her long, dark hair has always made it easy for her to blend in with the darkest corners of the wood until she was the last to be found and the ultimate winner. Her 'father' taught her to hunt small game and, perhaps her most valued skill, to make and shoot a bow. Lorelei was instilled with a firm belief that knowing how something worked made it easier to understand and ultimately manipulate. It might sound negative, but when there's little to come by and the most must be made out of each and every item, one cannot afford to be anything but thrifty. As she grew, Lorelei thrived, and it became clear that she was meant for more than just a kitchen or a nursery.
Though she wasn't ungrateful, Lorelei was curious about her origins. It was clear that she wasn't related to the family that was keeping her, and, though she was a good worker and an obedient child by nature, she still yearned to know more about her own blood and her visits with her father were too few and not often enough for her. Lorelei idolized her father. She saw him as this man worth looking up to - obviously he must be, if he couldn't be here with her all the time. He must be off doing great things rather than raising her. She may not have been totally wrong, but her childhood view of her father could never be squared with an adult view cultivated by mature conversation. During one of his visits — and she still can't remember exactly how it began — there was a disagreement between her father and another local. She was just falling off to sleep. It was after dark and dinner had long since ended, and all the children had been corraled into their sleeping quarters when Lorelei jolted awake at the sound of her father's angry voice through the window. Before she could pull a shawl around her bony shoulders there was shoving and shouting, and, though she made it to his side and into the scuffle, undetected in the din, while he still lived, somewhere in that scuffle a blade emerged and swiftly landed itself in her father's throat. She still doesn't sleep often or much; in Lorelei's dreams and nightmares both she can hear the gurgling of her father's final breaths and see the shock and fear in his eyes when he looked up and realized it was her looking down at him.
The next year was spent in fits of rage or tears. Lorelei alienated whatever companionship she'd previously found in her adoptive sisters and eventually, her adoptive mother as well. In a strange turn of irony, it was only her adoptive father who still had any sympathy left for her despite her volatile mood. His calm and direction helped her to smooth over the rough edges, to bottle whatever vitriol was still oozing from her and to hone her feelings toward achieving a greater goal. After all, how different was channeling one's hatred toward a person or event for the better different from learning the ins and outs of a bow and arrow? It all came back to having nothing, and making do with what you found. Resourceful and equipped, silent and sullen, Lorelei made her way to Sir Alliser du Fauven when she was sure her resentment and grief could no longer escape her. She had nothing to offer him but herself, her service, and her loyalty. She was 18 and inexperienced, with only a minor family connection and a chip on her shoulder. What better way to honor the memory of one's fallen father than through service in the same Company? Regardless, she was easily passed over, though her determination and tenacity were noticed by a minor commander within the Black Fox Company: one Esyld Draven, to whom Lorelei is now honor bound and completely devoted.
Such extreme emotions and strong bonds didn't just pop up out of nowhere. It took time for Lorelei to prove both her skill with a bow and her ability to keep organized where others couldn't. It was the latter trait that served her well first and foremost; She began as just 'the help,' keeping rooms stocked and tidied for the Company and making sure all were fed and otherwise cared for. Whatever distaste she had for this position was never voiced, and, even if it wasn't her ultimate aspiration, it became clear swiftly that this young woman could be trusted with more responsibility, and so she was. It was during this time of monotony, of making beds and filling pitchers and counting radishes and brushing horses, that Lorelei's one deviation from the norm did her well. It was a hot day, and she was frustrated (though, as was her wont, she wouldn't say a word about it). Crows were cawing and diving and making her outdoor work with the vegetables generally miserable, and so she stood abruptly, walked off to the armory, and returned with a shortbow and a few arrows. Esyld happened upon her as Lorelei shot enough of the birds out of the sky to enable her to continue her task, and to earn her the opportunity to show off her ability with a bow in a more formal trial.
Since her advent to the Black Fox Company as an orphan with a serious grudge, Lorelei's made a way for herself. She knows she's lucky and she knows precisely whom she owes for her position; now serving as a quartermaster and, less formally, the unneeded muscle following behind Captain Draven wherever she might go, she counts her blessings daily and keeps mostly to herself. She still does exactly what she's asked and, if a task seems beyond her, she finds a way to make it work. It's part of what makes her such great company, for certainly, her dislike of talking couldn't be it.
