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lane, sniper

Kestrel

lane, sniper

Kestrel

Kestrel is an elite Stormguard archer who takes down targets from a distance. When building weapon, she deals rapid, sustained damage and uses stealth to find better footing when enemies get too close. Kestrel’s crystal path affords longer stealth times, which sets up aggressive tactical plays. She’s best in the lane where she can use the protection of her turret to safely collect gold.

Kestrel Stats

Hit Points(HP)

615 (+72)

HP Regen

Energy Points(EP)

404 (+8)

EP Regen

Weapon Damage

64 (+3.18)

Attack Speed

1 (+0.033)

Armor

20 (+6)

Shield

20 (+6)

Attack Range

6

Movement Speed

3.1

Abilities

ADRENALINE

Heroic Perk

ADRENALINE
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Whenever Kestrel lands a basic attack, she gains attack speed and reduces the cost of her abilities. This stacks up to 5 times and and wears off after a short time.

GLIMMERSHOT
GLIMMERSHOT
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Kestrel fires an arrow, landing an armor-piercing basic attack on the first target in its path. The arrow then pierces through, dealing crystal damage to the target and other enemies behind it. Kestrel can keep several arrows in reserve. After a duration without using her bow, these arrows are automatically reloaded. Reload time is decreased based on attack speed.

ACTIVE CAMO
ACTIVE CAMO
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Kestrel instantly vanishes from sight and gains bonus move speed. Additionally, she leaves an invisible phosphor mist at her location, revealing enemies as they walk through it. If Kestrel deals damage to an enemy hero within the mist, the mist will detonate, damaging and stunning all enemies within its area.

Kestrel’s basic attacks reduce the cooldown of Active Camo. However, Active Camo cannot be triggered while Kestrel is taking damage from an enemy hero, putting it on cooldown. The length of time Active Camo is disabled is reduced by bonus weapon power.

ONE SHOT. ONE KILL.
ONE SHOT. ONE KILL.
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After a delay, Kestrel fires a single arrow across the fold, impacting on the first enemy hero, large creature or structure in its path. When this hits an enemy hero, it reveals that hero and grants Kestrel full Adrenaline stacks. This deals reduced damage to non-heroes.

The base damage dealt by this ability is weapon damage. Higher ranks of this ability gain armor piercing.

Kestrel Lore: The Right Tool For The Job Lore
Kestrel Lore: The Right Tool For The Job
Chapter 2

Kestrel Lore: The Right Tool For The Job

The Stormguard waits outside of Ardan’s home for Catherine’s signal to attack …


“It really is her.”

Kestrel shot a withering glare down at the swordswoman who’d whispered it from the brush below. A soldier of the Stormguard knew better than to speak after positions were taken. Still, every woman hiding outside the indistinct farmhouse that evening had stood watch over the burial of the blonde woman who now struggled to unload a goat from a battered old cart outside the farmhouse. Julia should have been a ghost.

The goat pulled at its rope, crying like a child.

Kestrel waited in the tangled branches of an olive tree for Catherine’s signal in the same position she’d held for hours. The feeling had gone out of her legs long before. Her bow laid out sidelong in front of her, stringed with steel. She rubbed her gloved thumb and fingerpads together, savoring the spark under her skin, but she wouldn’t use energy arrows that night. Metal shattered glass, if the bow was strung heavy enough, and the detached Stormguard unit hadn’t used magic since crossing into Gythian territory. Techies didn’t trust magic, and the last thing they needed in this land of smog and machines was attention.

Poking her tongue into her cheek, she watched the queen’s sister through her scope. Mothering twins had softened Julia’s body, and there were laugh lines by her eyes, but there was no doubt. After Julia went inside, Kestrel curled her toes to get the feeling back, rolled her right shoulder, sank her thigh into a knob in the branch, fit an arrow into the nock and hooted an owl call. Catherine whistled back the command to hold.

The goat bleated louder and sadder as the sun sank. Nothing stirred in the surrounding brush and trees. Inside the window, Julia argued with her husband, some nobody from the rebel tech army. The twins flashed by in their pajamas, chasing one another to their beds. The boy gave out a shout that shook the ground and the setting sun brightened, then dimmed. Mageborn, Kestrel mused in silence. No wonder the queen wanted them unharmed. She waited until the kids were tucked in, took aim at the left edge of a front window away from the bedrooms, then repeated her signal. Catherine whistled again to hold.

Night deepened, stars poking out that never showed above the bright light of Mont Lille. The man inside gestured with a wrench. Julia slammed a door. The goat’s shrieks twisted Kestrel’s nerves into a tight bundle. She’d hold position all night if needed, but every minute she waited was a minute something could go wrong.

The man clamped a gauntlet on one arm. Animalistic hoots and whistles sounded from varied positions. Catherine’s hold command repeated again and the goat cried and something wasn’t right; they should have attacked an hour ago. “What the hell is she waiting for?” the swordswoman grumbled. Kestrel was used to lone missions, not all of this group planning. Too many other people to depend on. Too much noise. Couldn’t think.

She let an arrow fly, and the goat shut up.

The signals paused; someone in the brush snickered. Kestrel fit another arrow into its nock. The man paused, looked at his own reflection in the nearest window, then raced across the farmhouse to Julia.

“He knows,” breathed the woman aground, bellying forward in the brush sword first.

The whispers of steel unsheathing sounded all over the olive grove. Somewhere, a blue wisp of magic snapped on and off in the air. A glowing blue shield hummed to life. Hearts pounded in throats. The man inside struggled into his armor, his wife pinching her fingers on the clamps trying to help. It was “go time,” and all they needed was Catherine’s whistle.

The whistle never came.

Kestrel pulled back, knuckles resting on the place where her jaw met her skull, three fingers under the knock, shoulderblade pinching her spine, and on her exhale …

… released.

By the time the front window shattered, Kestrel had swung down from the tree. Ignoring the burning pins and needles in her legs, she ducked low and closed in on the farmhouse.

Hanging from the windowsill by one hand, her bow slung over one shoulder, she glanced back at the storm of magic and steel following behind. Catherine stood behind the attack, tears in her eyes, a raven’s neck broken in her fist, another landing on her shoulder with an enraged scream.

The Stormguard’s saga will continue…


READ MORE OF THE STORMGUARD SAGA:

 

Kestrel Lore: Kestrel’s Test
Chapter 1

Kestrel Lore: Kestrel’s Test

 

Introducing Vainglory’s next hero: Kestrel! Read the beginning of her story below…


KESTREL’S TEST

No one has ever rebuilt the overgrown Old Quarter, where the stink of magic lingers in the destroyed buildings. The children dare one another to touch those still-crackling buildings for the shock. That shock was Kestrel’s first memory.

She wasn’t Kestrel then, but the name her parents gave her is classified.

Kestrel knew about the war, though she hadn’t been born yet, and she knew about the Storm Queen, who lived far away in Mont Lille. She knew never to bother the border guards, who the locals called blancorojos. She learned the rolling, throaty language of Mont Lille alongside her family’s dialect. She saluted the queen’s flag every morning at school. Every child had to take the queen’s aptitude tests; teachers and parents drilled them in mathematics, languages and geography for weeks preceding the test. Taxes were light on families whose children were chosen.

At six years of age, Kestrel took the first battery of tests: analogies, number series, mirroring patterns of blocks and solving puzzles. She did well. She loved the smell of pencil shavings and her examiner’s smart white lab coat trimmed with red. She loved how numbers fell into neat patterns, and she spoke Lilliaise with an adorable accent.

For the last test, the examiner placed a combination of black and white boxes before her with a candy under one. Kestrel’s task was to guess if it was under a black or a white box. At first, there were nine white boxes and one black box. She picked white and collected her candy. The next round, there were seven black boxes and three white ones. She picked black and earned more candy. Her cheeks were stuffed with candies after a few rounds of disproportionate numbers of one color box, then: betrayal. There were six white boxes, but the candy was under one of the four black ones.

Kestrel had never before doubted herself.

The examiner set out the boxes again: five of each.

“Choose,” she said.

“No.”

“Don’t you want the candy?”

“Yes.”

“Then, choose.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know where it is.”

“The test requires you to choose.”

“No.”

The examiner bent double so that she’d be at eye level with the little girl. Her voice was kind. “There is no punishment for guessing wrong, and a candy if you guess right. You must choose.”

“No.”

“The queen requires you to choose.”

“No.”

“Very well.” The examiner straightened and produced a stick the length of her arm. “If you do not choose, you will be struck on your palms.”

Kestrel looked straight ahead with her palms up while the stick smacked into them, remembering the surprising pain of the magic shock she’d given herself in the Old Quarter, how it had lessened into mild tingling after a time. The stick did not hurt that much.

She did not cry, and she did not choose.

The next day, two blancorojos came to her home. Kestrel escaped out the back and climbed a walnut tree, armed with a slingshot and enough underripe ammo to make a grand nuisance should her father seek to punish her for failing the test of the boxes. Instead, her parents coaxed her down with tears and kisses, for she had been called to continue her education in Mont Lille. Her parents had one hour to say goodbye.

To be continued…