Wiki Category: Ulven Characters - Active

PLAYED BY: Zack Hawkins

CHARACTER NAME: Runar

GENDER: yes plz

PREFFERED PRONOUN(S): He/Him

CLASS: Cleric

AGE: 36

RACE: Ulven

HAIR: Dark Brown

EYES: 2

OCCUPATION: A student and a Chair Maker

KNOWN SKILLS: Chair making, onion harvesting, heavy things carrying, fast swimming, afraid of the dark but good at the daytime

BIRTHPLACE: on an onion farm in nightriver territory

APPEARANCE: thicc

NOTABLE TRAITS: Happy.  unless he is sad.  Strong hands, but not so good feet.  knees are okay

RELATIONSHIPS: Recently enrolled in the university at keys crossing

RUMORS: Good listener, but not great speaker.  Also, good taster.  Runar loves tasting.  Smelling is good too

BIO / BACKGROUND HISTORY:

~~~~~~~~ Part 1 ~~~~~~~~

Gaia’s happy waters

Runar was born in an onion patch, 6 inches from the worms as his mother tells.  Weary from her days labor, she didn’t quite make it back to their cabin in time to welcome him to the world, so he started his life in much the same fashion that he would spend his youth – naked and covered in dirt.  His father says the spot where it happened is still where the best onions sprout, but Runar knows it’s more likely due to it also being his favorite place to make night soil.

His father would always say, “Runar!  Never shit where you sleep!”.

and while Runar never completely understood the sentiment – “Who shits where they sleep? And does it happen so often that it needs to be a cautionary tale to children??” he DID suspect that perhaps this rule extended to where you were born as well, so he kept it to himself.

By his teen years, he had grown to wonder what was happening outside of his little family farm.  His parents were wary of all outsiders and had a wild, usually scary story to defend against any of his prying questions about Mardrun and its other inhabitants.

“If it were just other Ulven here, we would love to let you romp around sowing your wild oats” his mother bellowed once, “But it’s not!  There are evil, pointy eared baby eaters out there now..  and flat toothed round-ears with funny accents that are ALL diseased.  If you go near them, you’ll die, and we can’t pick all these onions without you”.

His parents knew a lot about everything, so he heeded their warnings usually.  He used to think they must be very wise to know so much about the world and all the things in it, but as the years went on, Runar did start to notice some incongruities in their tales..

He once asked his father while walking the riverbank, “Why does the water flow only in this direction, and never the other way around?”

His father smiled and explained,”It is because the river always flows from Gaia towards the Great Wolf, and when it rains, it is because Gaia is missing the Great Wolf and wants him near.. and when it STORMS, and the river overflows its banks..  It is because the Great Wolf has found her and is making her very happy”.

Runar loved that story and thought about it often.  He always loved swimming in the river when it was raining, and it made him happy thinking about Gaia missing the Great Wolf and how he was somehow a part of that when he swam.  But months later,  as he was helping his mother work the dirt, the dark clouds of a storm rolled in.. flashes of lightning and the boom of thunder came right as the first drops of rain hit their heads.  He started undressing and running to the river immediately, his mother running fast behind him.

She caught him before he jumped off the river bank, “What the hell are you doing Runar??”

“Swimming in Gaia’s love!!” He emphatically answered.

Turns out, his mother’s reasoning for the river’s flow was a lot different than his fathers..  “You’ve been reading those dirty fairy tales he writes haven’t you!”, she scolded.  “I told him to hide them away where you could not find them.  Is this why you always sneak out to shit in the onion patch too?? Did he write that it lures naked forest nymphs?!”.

But this was the way of it.  He was still not totally sure why the river flowed one way, but he also didn’t let it stop him from swimming in the rain.

The years passed, and Runar found his joy where he could in life – he knew nothing else, so he wanted for very little.. Or so he believed..

When Runar turned 36, the most amazing thing happened to shake up his quiet existence..

His father broke his leg.

Well.. Runar was sure that it was not great for his father, but OH BOY.. did it mean amazing things for him.  For the first time in his whole life, he was allowed to venture out from not just their farm, but out into Nightriver lands and to a settlement!!  Once a year, his father would go to trade their sweet onions and chairs that he enjoyed making for various goods they could not grow or make themselves, and this year… THIS YEAR.. that day had landed not only on his birthday, but on the day his father fell off the cabin roof, and it could not be stalled any longer for winter was fast approaching, and if they missed the window it would be an entire season without their needed goods.  His mother, being deathly afraid of diseases and mumbling something about colonial scum (two words whose meaning, Runar could not divine), made the executive decision to send him in his fathers stead.

~~~~~\ ~~Part 2 ~~~~~~~

The Great Wolf’s Heavy load

And there he was!!  Strolling down the path with a huge hiking pack full of onions and strapped with 4 homemade chairs, whistling a merry tune.  He walked all day and thought about walking all night just because he was SO excited to reach the market and see the mysterious outsiders his parents hated so much, but as the sun fell below the treeline, the woods took on an eerie calm.  He felt watched, although he could not tell why.  He remembered a story his mother had told him about creatures that come out at night.. Strange shadow beasts, with tiny yellow eyes that glowed bright when they smelled little boys nearby.  He thought he might see some of these eyes up ahead on the path..

HE IMMEDIATELY PANICKED.

Breaking into a run, Runar made it ten paces before tripping on a root and falling to the dirt, the weight of his overloaded pack, bulging with onions and 4 wooden chairs haphazardly strapped about it driving him face first into the soil.

Blinking, bleary eyed and seeing stars.. No.. yellow lights in the distance growing larger… and closer..

“Fuck”, he thought to himself. “First and last adventure”

He closed his eyes tightly and waited for his doom.

But it did not come.

Instead..  Soft footfalls.. And then an even softer voice.. “Well met.  I am Hjalvar, the Wolf’s Priest”.

After assuring Runar that Shadow Beasts were not a threat, the Wolf Priest helped him gather his spilled onions, and offered to set camp with him if he wanted.  They built a fire, and Hjalvar put a coney on the spit he had trapped that day, offering to share with him in exchange for some onions.  They supped and found themselves happily trading stories of recent adventures.  Runar felt a bit inadequate as his stories mostly dealt with local badgers or river otters and the shenanigans and hijinks associated with, while the wolf’s priest had grand tales of the road and his extensive travels.  Turns out, Hjalvar was something of a prophet, and Runar sat wide-eyed as he spun his tale of a first hand experience with the Great Wolf..

“There I was, falling from a scaffold. Next thing I know I’m on my back and my vision is fading out and my lungs are filling with blood. I close my eyes. Then suddenly I feel totally fine. I open my eyes and I’m standing in a forest and off in the distance I see the hulking shadow of The Great Wolf as it stalks its way toward me. Naturally I freeze in place. Then I hear a voice, low and rumbling like a growl barely escaping the throat of the great beast, ‘I do not know you yet you intrude on my forest?’ the beast called to me, ‘Without a name, you are nothing to me. Nothing but a morsel.’ Then the Great Wolf turned and began bounding toward me, his maw open. I tell you the likes of it I have never seen. When he opened his mouth, by Gaia’s grace his mouth so large it could swallow ten warriors without thinking, I saw the stars inside. I saw the very cosmos itself, but at the center of it all, I saw something that scared me more than any of the rest of the experience. I saw nothingness; a void of pure emotionless, nothingness. I screamed…and then I was back.  And I swore that when the great wolf saw me once more, He would know my name!”

Runar lay awake that night incapable of finding sleep.  He stared up through the trees into the great cosmos above wondering what else his parents had left out when educating him about the world.  He believed the Wolf Priest’s story entirely.. he had no reason to distrust the man – he had shared a rabbit with him after all, and what else do you need to know a person really?  The Great Wolf had placed a heavy load on Hjalvar it seems, allowing him to return to this realm after seeing into his maw.

By time the sun rose, he had made the biggest decision of his life – He would not be returning home.  This was the sign he had been waiting for.

Packing up camp, Runar asked Hjalvar for advice on where a young man with onions and chairs to spare might go to strike out into the world and see what he could learn of it.  The Great Wolf’s Priest said he had no idea how onions would get Runar ahead, but that there was a University in Key’s Crossing he could try.  “I think it would be a fine place for an open minded Ulven like yourself to get an unbiased education, but even if they do not admit you to their classes, it stands to reason that they would at least purchase your chairs,  schools usually need lots of chairs”

And so it was, that Runar and Hjalvar parted ways, and that he happily trotted along on his way to the University at Key’s Crossing to begin his education.

NAME: Einar Stormcaller

PLAYED BY: Cole Potter

RACE: Ulven

CLASS: Rogue

BIO:

Einar was born in the lands of Clan Grimward. His mother Katla Fieldcrow, a Daughter of Gaia with Pack Fieldcrow. His father Fridgeir Stormcaller a wanderer and skald from Pack Deathlore. Einar spent his early years raised by his mother in the territory of Pack Fieldcrow, but as he was a male and not truly a member of Pack Fieldcrow was not trained as the women of Pack Fieldcrow were in the ways of the Daughter. He did chores and other work around the village and when he was old enough he was taught the basics of how to fight and stand guard posts so he could fulfill a role in the village. His father was not present for most of Einar’s childhood as he was a skald and would travel the lands to adventure and spread the stories of Clan Grimward. In fact Fridgeir had only spent a single spring in Pack Field crow lands as a guest of his mother, and was not even present for the birth of his son.

Einar enjoyed his childhood in Pack Fieldcrow. He was a small and weak boy growing up and struggled learning how to fight from the warriors dedicated to the protection of the pack. Einar found that he fought well with a cutting spear, he could use both hands on one weapon and put strength into more focused blows with both hands on the weapon. He found he was ill suited for other styles of fighting. He could use a sword well enough but lacked skill elsewhere. While the warriors didn’t have much hope for him Einar pushed himself everyday thinking of how his people would depend on him to protect them one day. Slowly but surely he became competent enough for the warriors to put him to work. They gave him basic duties and never let him venture out with them when they took the other young men of the warpack to hunt any Mordok that were spotted too close to the village. It was disheartening for Einar but he didn’t have much choice and was content to stay in the village and be a watchful defender.

When Einar was fourteen Fridgeir returned to their village in search of Katla and his son. Word had reached him of his child, and although he had not made the effort to be a part of his son’s life he was determined to meet him. Their meeting was awkward but pleasant. Fridgeir was not demanding of his son and instead spoke to him with measured respect as one would any other person. Fridgeir admitted that he had regrets of not being there to help raise his child and wanted to ask both Einar and his mother if Einar would journey with his father to learn the ways of the world and of the skaldic traditions of Pack Deathlore. Einar with the blissful ignorance of his youth harbored no resentment toward his father and was excited by the idea of seeing the world and escaping his basic existence as the weakest warrior in the village. Katla, while worried for her son, wanted more for him than standing post at the village gate his whole life and gave her consent for the boy to leave. The council saw no issue with Einar leaving as no males were truly members of the pack, and the warriors were almost happy to be rid of him as he would not take up any more time to train.

Einar traveled with Fridgeir learning many things about the world and of skaldic art. Einar bonded with his father quickly, even though he had not been present for his early childhood. Einar looked up to his father and was very happy traveling with him. However, in the year 264 tragedy struck shortly after Einar’s eighteenth birthday. Bandits attacked them on the road and in the fighting Fridgeir was fatally wounded. Einar avenged his father’s death almost immediately but was still horribly stricken by the loss of his father. Returning to his mother in Pack Fieldcrow Einar spent several years as a warrior for the town, more competent in combat and happy for the support of his old friends and family. Now Einar travels again hoping to honor his father’s memory by becoming a great skald himself and to see the many wonderful stories the land of Mardrun has to offer.

PLAYED BY: Leah Maas
CHARACTER NAME: Amiya
GENDER: Female
PREFFERED PRONOUN(S): She / her
CLASS: Rogue
AGE: 12 (year 271)
RACE: Ulven
HAIR: Brown
EYES: Blue/ gray

OCCUPATION: Herbalist, hunter

KNOWN SKILLS: Learning to live off the land during a war she has learned to identify and properly harvest plants that benefit many.

BIRTHPLACE: Village in Stormjarl. Born in the year 259

APPEARANCE: Tall for her age with frizzy hair. She likes to dye it different colors.

RELATIONSHIPS: Fritha Stormjarl : Aunt, Arland: grandfather, Thrand Stormjarl: Uncle, Afkarr: Uncle, Elise Mother,?(David)? :Father and a little sister.

RUMORS: They assume she is meant for great things with her family and friends, only time will tell.

BIO / BACKGROUND HISTORY: My story? Um, I’m not sure when it begins. Everything was confusing for a lot of it. My aunt Fritha lived far away so we would go visit her. It was a long trip, it was boring and I didn’t like it. During one of those trips someone said we can’t come home, that we didn’t have a home anymore. How can that be? Where did my family go?

Then everything was confusing. I had to stay with other clan members while mom went to look for dad. I heard someone say he might never come back, I kicked that old lady in the leg and ran away.

Growing up during a war was terrible. I didn’t have a home, we were moved around and staying with a lot of different people. Mom wasn’t there, dad wasn’t there. I was stuck with my little sister who cried a lot. We didn’t have a lot to eat, so the women started showing me what plants are good to eat and use for healing. There were a lot of wounded all the time.

Then it started to get better. Grandpa came to stay with us, I liked that. And Aunt Fritha was around a lot. But she also left a lot, planning and raiding with her friends. Then dad came back!! And uncle Afkarr came home. Then they said the war was over, but I didn’t care. I had my family back. By then I was older. 10?

We still can’t go home, they said that is gone and we can’t return- Grimworm burned it. So we have a smaller place, but I don’t like it as much. Fritha and uncle Thrand are around more, I like that. Mom said now that I’m older I can start to travel with Auntie, and boy am I ready.

INFO: Being in around a war at such a young age she doesn’t seem to be as effected by it as others think she should be. Her family has tried to show her that death is serious and she should be more scared.

PLAYED BY: Sam Hennessee

CHARACTER NAME: Leif Fenrawr White Stag

GENDER: Male

PREFFERED PRONOUN(S): He/Him

CLASS: Rogue

AGE: 48 / DoB Oct 222

RACE: Ulven

HAIR: Brown/grey

EYES: Green

OCCUPATION: Hunter

KNOWN SKILLS: wilderness survival, track animals and humanoids, using light/leather armors, shield, axes and daggers, knife, rock and javelin, archery, working with hides and exotic animals, military tactics, cooking and foraging.

BIRTHPLACE: In the wild North

APPEARANCE: He has bright green eyes and sharp fangs. His long light brown hair and wiry beard are now starting to fade to grey with age and he keeps them in braids most of the time. Often seen wearing hunting gear that appears to be rags to an untrained eye but it is a means to sneak and remain unseen in the wilds to him. He will however dress appropriately for the weather and/or occasion.

NOTABLE TRAITS: Bright green eyes

RELATIONSHIPS: None.

RUMORS: “He was the hunter that took 3rd in the Hunt.” And/or “He is a retired warrior on the path of a Hunter.”

BIO / BACKGROUND HISTORY:
Leif Fenrawr White Stag

Leif Fenrawr, was born nearly 50 years ago, in the year 222. He grew up in the clanless wilds of the North. He did not reach this age by hiding from the fight, but by fortune and skill enough to not be bested in battle. He has his mother Lana’s emerald eyes and pointed fangs like his father, Sven. His long, brown tendrils and wiry beard fade to silver with age and is rarely unbraided. Most often, he appears to be dressed in rags; however, his linens are intentional and allow him to remain unseen and unheard in the wilds. He does have a few other outfits hidden in stash away spots for special occasions, should they arise.

As children, Leif and his younger brother Ivorn, would accompany their parents deep into the woods to gather and hunt food. Sven was an expert hunter and taught the boys everything he knew about animals; how to hunt and track them, and how to set traps for food or for regents. Lana taught them about foraging bait for traps, food and regents and how to prepare them with the animals they hunted.

On an early fall hunting trip in 245, Ivorn was slain during a Mordoc ambush. Leif and Ivorn were fetching water not far from camp, when the Mordoc attacked. Ivorn, terrified, became confused, ran away from Leif and was quickly swallowed into the writhing mass of blackness that was the Mordoc horde. Sven and Lana, hearing Leif’s cries for help, unleashed a flurry of arrows piercing every Mordoc in sight. Selflessly, Leif darted after Ivorn. Leif saw Ivorn, as his small frame passed a massive oak tree, a Mordoc appeared from the other side and drove its spear clear through his young body, killing Ivorn instantly. Before Ivorn’s lifeless body even hit the ground, Leif had lunged at the Mordoc and urged his hunting dagger into the Mordoc, piercing its heart, killing it swiftly and quickly. Even though, Leif killed the Mordoc responsible for Ivorn’s death, it wasn’t enough to ease his hatred or quench his thirst for revenge. He rarely backs down from a fight, and never gives up the opportunity to rid the world of another Mordoc. His loathing for Mordoc and the primal desire to spill their blood consumed him.

After hearing of Leif’s bravery against the Mordoc, Runeseer Solvig was inspired and offered Leif the path of the Warrior; to which he gladly accepted. He trained hard and fought harder, not only showing great skill in archery like his parents, but an uncanny amount of skill with all thrown weapons. For melee and as part of the pack warriors, he fought in leather armor with shield and battle axe. During this time in his youth, he served and has fought viciously in many battles for the White Stag pack.

During the Battle of the Bloodmoon, Lana and Sven helped hold off the attack before being overrun by unknown enemies. Runeseer Solvig ordered the remaining pack warriors to attack, it was only a too little too late. While the pack saw the dawn, and were victorious in battle, Sven and Lana did not survive. When the sun came up all that was left was burnt Mordoc bodies and the few fallen of the pack that included his mother and father.

In late 250 Leif was sent to fight in the Colonist Wars. While he saw many battles, the wars did not last long, only a few months. Leif was happy to return home to the north as he had little desire for slaying humans. He will gladly talk and trade with them today but would have no issues with killing one if the need should ever arise.

In 262 Leif provided security for the forward scouts of the Dirge Swamp Expeditions. The expeditions were very successful. They learned about the Syndar with the Mordoc and found mysterious texts. Leif was mostly interested in the protection of the expedition’s forward scout teams and as always, the slaying of Mordoc.

The next year when the Longfang warriors were called to defend Stormjarl lands, Leif volunteered as part of the White Stag war pack to show support for our neighbors and allies in the north. The battle near Black Wolf Creek was bloody. Leif saw the last shield wall of the Ulfednar, the Longfang elite warriors. They held off overwhelming numbers, as his war pack rained down volleys of arrows into the advancing foes. The battle was won but at a great cost. Leif saw many of his friends and northern neighbors slain that day.

After returning home to the north he volunteered as part of another Dirge Swamp Expedition providing security again to the forward scout team. They welcomed him as he had been into the Dirge Swamp on previous expeditions. His expertise and axe were both needed again. The expeditions were of great success and Leif returns home, unscathed.

Leif hears whispers of plans to make a northern protective buffer called the Shield of Mardrun. They were calling for aid to defeat Mordoc, and Leif was more than happy to answer. He slew Mordoc without mercy until he was numb on the inside. He was not invited to be a part of the Great Wolf’s Hunt in the Great Forest earlier that year, and this fueled his anger as he chopped his way through Mordoc after Mordoc.

This time, when Leif returns home, things are different. His wounds seem to take longer to heal and the scars seem to have a constant ache. He understands that his days of heavy fighting, are coming to an end, like the failing light at dusk. Time, healed wounds and old injuries of a warrior’s lifestyle have taken a toll on his body and he is completely aware of it.

With a used and aging body, he can no longer run or sprint and is slow to stand or sit. He can no longer keep pace with the younger warriors during a charge or the like. This restriction and clearing Mordoc seems to have quenched his bloodlust and deep seeded rage. He now finds himself reminiscing about his youth, family and the joys of being on a hunt. He talks with the Runeseer and is released from the path of a Warrior and thanked for his service to the pack and all of Mardrun. He is offered a position as a Pack Hunter, which once again, fills him with purpose and joy.

Leif has laid down his shield and has hung his battle axe above the mantle. Now he carries his father’s woodsman axe and his hunting dagger. He has new found purpose and his skills as an archer or with a thrown weapon have not faded. As Leif showed great adaptation to the new role as a pack Hunter. In January of 270 Leif receives an invitation from Jarl Gertrud Speartusk to compete in a hunting competition. He was able to find an elk herd in a small glen at failing light. Leif made his way to the edge of the glen after they bed down and waited. Just as the stars started to dim, the morning dew coated everything and created a light fog low to the ground, in the fading light of the full moon, the elk herd rose from the fog one by one like a great old ghosts of the glen. With the perfect form and stealth of a hunter Leif took his shot and hit the largest bull flawlessly. It took one step and crashed to the ground. Leif returned with his kill and was proud to take 3rd place in the competition with his slightly above average bull elk.

His time was not wasted as a warrior as he is now on the path of the Hunter, a tracker and scout, as a Rogue using the skills his parents taught him all those years ago with the ones he has learned along the way. He loves being from the clanless north and savors his freedom. To him, being on a hunt is the ultimate freedom. He can live for weeks or months at a time on his own or can spend time with the pack or trading in an outpost or city. Leif has no known living family or progeny. He is always willing to help out the pack but has no interest in leading it. He believes he will settle down and farm when he is old and he doesn’t feel that old yet. He can feel the presence of the Great Wolf Father when he is hunting game and is closer to Mother Gaia when she reveals to him the past in the form of what was left behind or the beauty in the songs of the wilds. He also enjoys listening and telling stories over a horn of ale.

Played By: CJ McNeal

Character Name: Yrsa

Gender: Female

Class: Rogue

Race: Ulven

Hair: Blonde/Brown

Eyes: Blue

Occupation: Hunter/Herbalist

Known Skills: Archery, Divine, Herbalist, Hunting, Sarcasm Dealer

Birthplace: Stormjarl

Notable Traits: Mostly quiet, sarcastic, and a bit flighty.

Relationships: Currently travelling with Stormjarl Einherjar

Quick Background:

• Family

• Mother: Deceased (Unknown family)
• Father: Great archer and hunter, I look up to and admire him (Am I good with a bow and trapping? Not great, but I won’t starve)
• Brother: Set sail on a boat a few years ago, haven’t seen him in a while
• Grandmother: Herbalist and Sarcasm dealer (She was teaching me herbalism, first aid, and magic, but I still have a great deal to learn)

• My village was raided and burned by Grimward. I was was separated from my family and became a thrall in a Grimward village.
• Kind hearted, I help my people and the other thralls but become a bit of a handful when someone mistreats my people. My nemesis is a Grimward guard that skirts the line of abusing his power.
• Made friends with a bonded pair of Grimward, who taught me to work with chain metal.
• Rescued from my thrall life by a Stormjarl raiding party.

The youngest years

I was born into a small family one crisp winter morning. My father had thought that he would get another boy, but my mother and grandmother were ecstatic that I was a girl. I had one older brother who was 10 by the time I came around. He will tell you that he hated my existence but he always seemed to be around to help when I was on the verge of troubles.

Unfortunately, my mother passed on shortly after I was born so I only know her in the stories told by my family and some from around the village. I have heard that she has family a few days journey from here, but neither my brother nor I have ever crossed paths with them that we know of. We often heard that mother was beautiful and kind, but there is much mystery to her family as everyone seems to change the subject when we ask.

Father, how I longed to be just like him. To many he seemed cold and silent but those closest to him knew of his true depth. The way his eyes would soften and the corners of his mouth would turn up ever so slightly when something amused him. I got this look often as a pup, when I would pretend to be big, strong, and stoic like him. My grandmother would laugh so hard, and tell me that I inherited too much sass from her to be just like my father.

I remember sitting in hunting blinds with my father, he was so still for so long…it looked as if he had stopped breathing all together and turned to stone. After almost passing out a few times I learned that this was a skill I did not inherit from him. He did teach me everything I know about hunting, but said I was better suited for shorter trips.

They say my brother is similar to my mother. He longs to be near the water and tells father that he wants to be a great sailor someday. Apparently, mother had a fondness for water as well but, when she fell in love with Father, she settled for a pond in the forest. Father tried to teach brother the ways of hunting and trapping, but my brother’s heart is always on the water. In brothers 17th year, father finally allowed him to set sail on his first long journey. Brother’s eyes sparkled with joy as he left for the ship; I had never seen him happier.

Grandmother seems to radiate a warm peacefulness, and she is the binding that holds our family together. She has and endless knowledge of plant life; I am amazed at the way she talks about some plants as if they were her old friends. With my mother gone, she had been my teacher of all things plant and magic. Her quick wit and no nonsense attitude   I love and admire her greatly.

Now

The setting sun warmed my skin and the tall grass tickled my arms as I danced through the open field. A joyous evening of chasing fireflies had begun. Picking flowers to make a crown and singing softly to myself, I am truly at peace and happy. I hear my grandmothers’ voice whisper as I gaze across the fields’ variety of plant life trying to decide what to add.

“Remember pup, sometimes beautiful is dangerous; you wouldn’t want to get the oils from that one on your hands”.

I feel her spirit with me, guiding as I create the most beautiful and full flower crown I have ever seen. By now, the world is growing darker and the fireflies have begun their magical ball. The soft breeze blowing through the trees plays the melody as I float weightlessly through the carefully choreographed dance only the fireflies and I know.

The wind begins to blow harder and sounds like…
like…chickens…?

Suddenly, its morning and reality sinks back in for another day. I am in my glorious thrall housing (livestock adjacent even!) provided by [insert sarcasm here] “The Mighty Grimward”. I had already been here long enough to stop counting the days. One of the chickens has found her way in through a gap in the wall branches and decided to try to find a snack on the bookshelf.

“Nice Try girl, I think the rat got the last of the crumbs yesterday,” I tease.

I ready myself for the day and find myself getting lost in memories of home. There is a strong love hate relationship with home dreams. I love feeling as if I am home with my loved ones…It feels like a flaming blade through my heart because it was all stolen from me and I’m haunted by it every day.

I can still feel the heat from the fires they used to burn my village and I see the flames when I close my eyes. The smell of campfires take me back to the night I was dragged away from my everything, watching my family become silhouettes against the flames behind them. I do not know if it was easier being among the first taken from the village, at least I was able to see my family together one last time. I’m sure it would have been much harder to see how separated we actually were.

Grandmother was frail, and unable to make long journeys…I just hope whoever she went with cared for her…Gaia keep her safe.

And my father…

My father’s last words to me still echo in my mind. A great hunter with little emotion, it haunts me most that his voice cracked that night.

“Be strong, my child. The road might be long. The journey might be challenging and full of dangers. Take a rest, if you must, but never turn back. Your very next step could be your moment of triumph. Your very next battle could be your greatest victory. Keep walking my warrior.”

I could feel the tears start to well up in my eyes, the way they did that night I last saw him. I held them back that night for him and the family, the way I hold them back now for my people.

There is a nice breeze flowing through the window, but as life is now…it was a short-lived enjoyment. A familiar stench of body odor and stale ale rode in on the breeze. My eyes widened.

“Smell that, Girl!?” I say to my chicken friend. “Tubby is on guard duty this morning. Save yourself!”

I pick up the chicken and gently send her back through the hole in the wall. For a half second, I consider how much effort it would take to squeeze out of the tiny gap myself…but if I get caught that’s a headache I don’t want today. So I tie back my hair, straighten my dress, and ready myself for another Grimward day of cooking and cleaning.

I open the door slowly because I know my nemesis, Tubby, too well at this point. Maybe if he were friendlier I would learn his actual name, but he looks down on my people and I’m sure if he were allowed he would have fun torturing us. He does keep himself just on the line to where he doesn’t get in trouble, but sometimes he steps over when he knows no one is watching. Makes me want to knock his fangs out, but until I get that chance I just like messing with him.

*Clank*

The flat edge of Tubby’s sword slapped across the doorway just in front of my face. I raised an eyebrow and turned my head to meet his gaze. He looked annoyed, as was usual when he had thrall duties. He lowered his sword and leaned his face close to mine. He must have had a long night because the smell of ale was so strong; I think I ended up a little buzzed from the vapors. I held back the urge to vomit.

“You are always a thorn in my side. I’m in no mood for your trickery today, got it!?” He sneered.

I flashed a little smirk, “Why, I have no idea what you mean.” I poked the sword enough to move past it and walked towards the meeting area laughing to myself along the way. They had us meet in one spot and then escorted us to our stations as a group, they claim it is for our safety but I believe they are trying to make sure we don’t escape or cause an uprising.

I spotted a group of older Ulven women on their way to the meet up point; I recognized two who sometimes work cooking duties with me. Hilde reminds me of Grandmother and doesn’t get around too well either. The other women always try to help walk her, but they are all getting on in years and have some difficulties themselves. Most of them don’t have to work, but they ask any one of them and they will tell you they would rather keep busy than sit around and rot. I smile at the one who is currently helping Hilde, and she looks relieved to have someone younger take over. I wrap my arm through Hildes and pat her hand.

“Did you get a good meal this morning?” I ask her “It’s a beautiful day and you look ready for adventure.”

“Oh, you know I only pretend to be frail so they leave me alone” She laughs.

We make it to the meet up location and Tubby is shaking his head.

“Can you move any slower? By the time you get here, your shifts will already be over.” He barked snidely.

Hilde’s arm gripped me tighter in obvious frustration; she was definitely on the list of us who would gladly help make him disappear. I patted her hand again and winked when she looked in my direction.

“That’s enough! Get moving!” Tubby yelled so loud I bet the chickens all dropped their eggs for the day.

The other guard there just rolled his eyes; he was much younger and looked new. He took the lead and Tubby caught the rear, my guess is so he could keep me in his sight. Every time I looked over my shoulder, there Tubby was, glaring at me. I couldn’t help but laugh. He must still be angry over the fun I had last week.

We were in the work march and Tubby wasn’t paying attention. I broke off from the group as we passed vendor stalls in the market. I knew I had some time before they reached the main hall, so I walked around the market. My metalsmith friend, Ivar, and his wife, Hel, were out setting up their stall for the day. They were so friendly, I had a hard time believing they were Grimward. I grabbed the cloth from the top of their cart and draped it over the front of their stall like they did daily. Hel smiled from the front of the cart. I heard a whistle from behind me and turned just in time to see Ivar toss an apple my way.

“I see you got away from the fat smelly bastard again” He chuckled.

Ivar was the one who helped me break away from the group the first time. Tubby was in a particularly foul mood one day and he laughed as one thrall worker fell in the mud. I am still sure he tripped the poor guy. I was about to take down Tubby, when I felt a firm hand on my shoulder and suddenly found myself in the drapes of a market stall. I was confused and still ready to fight when a warm loaf of bread was shoved in my face. I am sure I had drool dripping down my chin. When I looked up, Hel’s kind smile was an instant calming force.

“You don’t want to do that, it won’t be long and your people will be free again” she said sweetly.

After that, they became good friends. They would always have some spare food for me, and sometimes more to sneak back for other thrall. Not that we didn’t get fed in the thrall unit, it just was never the freshest form of foods. In whatever time I could find myself, Ivar would teach me some crafty things to do with metal. I appreciated having something fun to learn, seeing as I had never been one for traditional Ulven woman skills and I was growing bored with Grimward working me on cooking duties. I was actually getting quite good with metal, even though I was not allowed those types of things in thrall housing.

Ivar taught me the way through the back alleys so I could make it back to the group before I would be called out for abandonment. Last week, for the first time ever, Tubby noticed I was missing and was livid when he got to the main hall. The Hersir happened to be in the area and laid into him for losing a thrall on a walk. I was getting a little nervous thinking of how I would sneak past this time, when a nearby window swung open. I took a quick glance in and saw Hilde, who winked at me. I happily took the opportunity to jump into the longhouse without passing by the perturbed guards. I swiftly blended into work sorting goods brought in from the fields and we could hear the Hersir yelling at Tubby telling him to go and find the missing thrall. The Hersir came barging into the room, demanding a head count. When the numbers came out correct he was a little confused, he mumbled something about an idiot and told the other warrior with him to “let him figure it out on his own”

Tubby was not letting me out of his sights today, so I happily continued to walk with Hilde to the main hall. I gave a slight nod to Ivar and Hel as we passed by and both of them chuckled a bit when they saw Tubby’s intense gaze on the back of my head.

The only part of the cooking duties I enjoyed were gabbing with the older women. They would tell stories of their villages and younger years. I would get lost in my head, picturing the stories as they were told. I would sometimes imagine I was snuggled by the fire with Grandmother again, listening to her weave stories as I drifted off to sleep. We were all homesick, but none of us spoke about it. Instead, we would try to lift spirits with jokes and stories of happier times.

Tubby and the newer guard were on watch. Tubby was spewing his tall tales, trying to impress the new guy. From the looks of it, the new guy knew better and ended up just nodding a lot. Guards typically did a few rounds to make sure we weren’t getting into trouble, but Tubby always took it one step further and would lean uncomfortably close over shoulders or would take his Seax out to stab a snack off the tables.

*Thunk*

The blade of his seax pierced through the potato and into the wood table.

“This piece isn’t cut proper, maybe you should take more care prepping my food” Tubby taunted a woman maybe a little older than me. He then shoved the potato into his mouth.

She just nodded and went back to work as he chuckled to himself and strutted away.

Just as I was daydreaming about knocking his fangs out of his face, I noticed that he didn’t have his seax sheathed properly. A wicked smile must have appeared on my face because I heard Hilde in almost a songlike voice say:

“Someone has mischief in mind”

I smiled at her and as Tubby walked past me with a scoff, I used two fingers and his momentum to lift the seax from his belt without him noticing. I started using the seax to chop stew meat, I know the blade deserved better but this was a lesson. I looked at the other women, most were chuckling silently to themselves.

Just then, there was a commotion outside the door. Things are fairly predictable in this village and this sound was so new that we all froze and looked at each other. The door flew open and there stood the Hersir and two more guards. For a moment I thought I was in serious trouble, but the Hersir called over Tubby and the new guy. They spoke in hushed voices while we all quietly went back to our duties, trying to catch any part of the conversation.

Breaking the quiet, the Hersir yelled “By the Great Wolf! Who gave the thrall a seax!?”

I smiled as sweetly as I could muster and held back a laugh as Tubby got slapped in the back of the head.

“Oh! Is that what this is!?” I gasped.

I wiped the blade on my skirt and held the hilt up as the new guy smirked and took it from me. He might be cute if he wasn’t of Grimward.

Tubby was fuming, but the hersir told him to take a walk and sent him out. The two new guards stayed with the new guy and continued their hushed conversations.

“Something has them worked up” Heilde whispered. “Where wolf’s ears are, wolf’s teeth are near.”

We worked the rest of the shift in mostly silence, and were escorted back to our housing by five guards where there were typically only two. When we arrived, the guards barked at us that no one was to leave their housing units until we were told to tomorrow morning. There was anger on their faces, but their eyes showed a tint of fear. What could have them so worried?

I sat by my door, and listened to movement outside. It was eerily quiet, and occasionally I could hear whispers as guards briefly passed each other. There were so many out, I didn’t even realize there were that many in this village.

*tap*tap*tap*

A light noise broke my concentration. It was coming from the hole in the wall. I cautiously approached.

“Oh Pup! I am so glad you are here!” Hels voice was so sweet but a little panicked.

“Kinda have no choice” I joked. Humor always helped me through tense situations, even if it wasn’t appropriate.

“Pup! Listen to me! Do not sleep tonight!…” She started

“What is going on!?” I interrupted.

“No time, you will find out soon enough. Just don’t sleep, stay alert, and take this.” She said as she slipped a long canvas wrapped pack through the hole.

“Hel, what if Im caught with this…you know what they will do to me.” I protested.

She reached through the hole and touched my cheek. “They wont” she smiled.

I held her hand as she gently pulled away. We both heard the guards coming. She quickly got up, pulled her dark cloak back over her head, and disappeared into the night. Why did it feel like this would be the last time I would see her?

I sat next to my bed so if someone entered I might have a chance to conceal the package that was given to me. I carefully unrolled the canvas. Inside was a beautiful bow, arrows in a quiver, a leather belt, leather pouch, some chain metals, chain tools, bread, smoked meat, and a note.

“Often times it is not numbers that wins the victory, but those who fare forward with the most vigor.”

I wrapped everything back up except some meat, bread, and the note.

Sitting by the door, I was determined to stay awake like I was told. The food helped, and I found a small stone that I repeatedly bounced off a wall and caught. Just when I thought I was going to lose the fight and fall asleep (Again, never been good at sitting in blinds and waiting) I heard a distant shouting. Was it my imagination or did I hear the sounds of fighting too.

Was it Mordok!? Did Hel give me a tools to fight then leave me!?

The screaming and fighting became louder and closer. I opened my door a crack to see what was going on, and sighed when I realized it wasn’t mordok. Opening the door further I got a better look…

Did I fall asleep?

Is this a dream?

Could it be…?

Then I heard it…”Stormjarl”

My eyes burned as I fought back tears…I was almost free…Ivar and Hel knew the raiding party was on its way, and they brought me a parting gift. I would never forget them, but I had to fight for my people. I equipped the bow and opened that door for the last time.

As I ran to the other huts to help gather the older Ulven, I couldn’t help but hope that Tubby would cross my path.

“Nice bow” Hilde’s voice called from behind me.

I looked at her in awe. With a sword in her hand she looked 20 years younger.

“Close your mouth, pup! I told you I only pretend to be frail so they leave me alone” She laughed. “Now let’s get out of here”

I laughed and shook my head.

We headed down the trail towards the battle when a movement beside one of the huts stopped us in our tracks.

“Where did you get weapons!?” a familiar rough voice spit out. I could feel the grin forming on my face, I guess wishes do come true.

Tubby and the new guy from earlier emerged from the shadows. Cracking his knuckles as he blocked our path, he hissed “Oh, you don’t know how much I am going to enjoy teaching you a lesson”

“They trying to keep us in, or are they what Grimward considers the best defence for the thralls” Hlide joked. “What are you thinking, pup?”

“My honor, and the honor of our people tormented here need to be avenged.” the words just flowed out of my mouth.

Hilde nodded at me, then looked up at the new guy. She pointed her sword towards him and gave him an unspoken ‘Are you going to be a problem?’ look. He seemed to know exactly what was going on, and he raised his hands and took a step back. Tubby scoffed and called him a coward, but the new guy just smirked, shrugged, and took a comfortable lean against a fence post.

“This is going to be quick and easy,” Tubby snarled. “Then I’m going to deal with you!” he barked towards the new guy. He inhaled deeply, snorting everything in his nose into the back of his throat then released a disgusting spit wad to the ground. I thought I was going to throw up, but I held it back and used it to fuel me in this fight instead.

Tubby started running towards me and I took a light jog towards him. I had a feeling he would come at me fast and hot at first, and he did not disappoint. As soon as we made it into striking distance, Tubby pulled back his arm and readied a punch. His fist came hurling towards my face, but I ducked towards the side and pushed his elbow so his punch follow through spun him a bit more than he anticipated. It gave me the perfect opportunity to use his spinning momentum to throw my knee into his fat gut.

Doubled over and coughing, he turned his face at me and I could see the fire in his eyes. He exploded towards me in a full screaming ball of fury. It seemed to happen in slow motion, before I realized what happened…my fist was colliding with the side of his face. He fell over backwards and was rolling on the ground screaming profanities and groaning.

“Hope you enjoyed teaching me that lesson” I stated flatly.

I felt Hildes hand on my shoulder “let’s keep moving” she chimed.

We looked at the new guy who hadn’t moved from his spot on the fence. He crossed his arms and chuckled “I was told my duty was to stand guard here, and thats exactly what I’m doing…standing…guard”. He just stood there, smiled, and gestured for us to pass. Damn cute Grimward.

Hilde and I started to jog down the trail when she held out her hand.

“This is for you, pup!” Hilde laughed as she placed a tooth in my hand. “Knocked it clean out of his head!”

Even if it was disgusting, I almost tripped from laughing.

We came upon the fighting and gave each other a nod that, even without words, screamed freedom!

PLAYED BY: Brittni Smith
CHARACTER NAME: Eldrid
GENDER: Female
PREFERRED PRONOUN(S): She/Her
CLASS: Rogue
AGE: 31 (Born Year 240)
RACE: Ulven
HAIR: Ginger
EYES: Hazel
OCCUPATION: Hunter, Merchant, Craftsman
KNOWN SKILLS: Leatherworking, mild blacksmithing, hunting, basic first aid, survival.
BIRTHPLACE: The Great Forest (Location of base camp for the nomadic pack at the time)
APPEARANCE: Tends to wear roughened clothing from living out of doors(Will wear nice when Marrah insists). Hair is generally up and out of her face in one form or another. Scars litter her exposed skin.
NOTABLE TRAITS: Facial Scars
RELATIONSHIPS: Marrah (close friend)
RUMORS:
BIO / BACKGROUND HISTORY:

Eldrid was born into a nomadic pack of Ulven, a collective of families that many generations ago left their clans for various reasons and joined together instead. They had no set territory that they stayed in but rotated through the various clan territories throughout the years and seasons. There were standard agreements with each clan for how they would assist along with bartering with the locals. An example would be in the fall to aid Goldenfield with the harvest for shelter through the rough winters, Aid in hunting to provide, craftwork to build stores, helping re-build a village after a disaster, joining bands to chase off Mordok, etc. For many generations, this was the practice causing all members to have a robust education on many trades and facets of culture. In this Eldrid found her calling with the hunting and crafting branch of her family, not being one for fighting unless necessary. The religious culture within the pack was varied from the many influences from the various clans they both stayed in and came from. Two individuals from the same family group could give you two different answers. One thing is certain though, it was not the traditional rigid thought of the sedentary clans.

This being said her young life was fairly ordinary by all accounts until the Civil war broke out among the Ulven. She and her family were aware of what was happening as was in the process of leaving Grimward territory before everything broke out and they would be drafted into a war they wanted no part in. Their terms for Grimward in years prior was to answer the call to arms when it came out; before this had meant helping to clear out bandits or rally against a group of Mordok who made it south. Unfortunately for Eldrid and her family, they did not succeed and they were drafted into Pack Greytide. This time was chaos and sorrow for Eldrid, they were all taught Grimward battle tactics and then thrown into the front lines of a war that was not theirs.

This time is her memory is painful and she tries not to revisit it as much as possible but one can not forget the horrors of battle and seeing not only your allies but also your family slaughtered before you due to the reckless actions of Greytide. This is when her belief in the Ulven honor system broke, setting the 25yr old up with the mentality of “This is where honor got them, burned in a pile for someone else’s war.” Eldrid seemed to be the only survivor of her wandering pack and has continued to keep her traditions alive as best she can with the new way of life that is her world now.

For the next 4 years, she survived, hunted, and worked to keep going. A large chunk of those four years was her alone in the comfort of the Great Forest as she worked to piece her mental and spiritual wellbeing back to a functioning place, and commonly spending winters in Goldenfield, working her leather craft to make items to sell the rest of the year when she was not in the Great forest.

In 269 things began to change for the better, Eldrid was growing quite sick of being alone. One day at a market a friendly Syndar approached her booth, after a bit of bargaining and conversation she was invited to Marrah’s tavern to continue their conversation later. After the market closed Eldrid searched out and found the tavern in question, on entering she was greeted warmly and the conversation about trade, life, and the goings-on resumed. It did not take long before Eldrid began to tag along with the caravan as it traveled from place to place. This soon led to her joining the UCUM at its founding and finding a place for herself again. Eldrid still travels more than she stays in Fristad, but she has a place to call home now and a new chapter can start.

PLAYED BY: Kallie Bain

CHARACTER NAME: Maj Greytide

GENDER: Female

PREFFERED PRONOUN(S): She/her

CLASS: Warrior

AGE: 21

RACE: Ulven

HAIR: Auburn

EYES: Hazel

OCCUPATION: Soldier, part-time political liaison, Champion of Pack Greytide

KNOWN SKILLS: Armor, Dual wielding, Mend, Pull Arrow, Resource: Politics, Respite, Shield/Expert, Toughness, True Grit

BIRTHPLACE: An unnamed collection of run-down houses in Greytide territory

APPEARANCE: Tall, with long hair usually tied back, typically wearing at least a little armor, favoring monotone colors

RELATIONSHIPS: an aging mother she visits occasionally and sends some money to, distant cousin of Khulgar Greytide, a few tenuous connections with minor Newhope nobles

RUMORS: Maj Greytide is a spy, sent to keep watch on the human colonies.

She once led a charge into a mordok encampment and came out unscathed…

or perhaps got herself and everyone with her badly injured or killed.

She was a thief as a child, and still isn’t above using those skills when she’s around the wealthy and noble.

She is the only calm or reasonable Greytide.

BIO / BACKGROUND HISTORY: 

As is often the case, it was a cloudy day which threatened rain when the mordok first came. Maj’s mother had called her inside to keep her dry and out of the coming storm so that her cold wouldn’t worsen, and the two were sitting beside the fire, wrapped in warm blankets, when the first scream echoed through the trees outside. 

Mother’s head jerked up at the sound, her face a rigid mask of fear. At the second scream, she jumped to her feet with a speed and agility Maj had never imagined from her and, in a flash, had pulled down the old sword sitting on the mantel. Before Maj could do more than cry out in her thin child’s voice, “Mother, wait—” she was out the door and racing into the forest. Maj stared for a moment, open-mouthed, at the door now swinging in the rising wind. Then, pulling her blanket tighter around her and wiping her nose on a corner of it, she rose too and padded up to the doorway on bare feet to peek outside. 

There was movement out in the trees, and more screams and yells. Maj heard her mother’s voice rise in a prolonged and incoherent shout, and the clash of metal on metal. The screams, at first rising familiar from throats Maj had known all her life, faded and changed to something more bestial as Maj tried to track the motions glimpsed through the trees and underbrush. She poked her head farther past the doorframe, squinting to see through the leaves.

Something humanoid came flying out of the trees toward the house. Maj jerked backward and slammed the door shut just before a heavy body struck it. Whatever it was bounced off, making the solid wood shudder, but did not strike again. Maj pressed her back into the door, holding it closed with her slight weight as she pulled the bar across and fit it into its holdings on either side of the frame. Panting from fear and the slight exertion, she listened to the now muffled sounds of her mother’s wails as the screams of pain all faded away. Finally, when it seemed all was quiet outside, Maj pulled back the bar and opened the door a crack. 

Nothing moved in the trees, and neither did the black, leathery beast lying in a heap of rags on the front step. Maj opened the door a little farther until the bottom edge bumped into the corpse, then stepped out and over the mordok, shuffling toward the trees. 

Everything seemed painted red as she stepped into the woods. Dark red splattered up tree trunks, coating bushes, running in little rivers over the ground. Maj’s feet were covered in red soon too, and her hands shook on the blanket gripped tight around her shoulders. 

It took her only a minute of searching to find her mother. Mother knelt in the leaf mulch, head bowed against the first raindrops of the coming storm, surrounded by the three still, bloodied bodies of Maj’s sisters.

Maj and her mother moved around a lot after that day. Mother never seemed to be able to stay in one spot for longer than a few months before the memories of how things were started to creep back in. Maj found her crying most nights, and curled up beside her. Maj wouldn’t admit it to either Mother or herself, but she couldn’t sleep most nights either. The nightmares slunk in when darkness fell.

Mother couldn’t do very much during the daylight either right at first, so Maj asked shop keepers and soldiers for small jobs to gain a few coppers for food. Most brushed her off, but enough smiled down at the little girl, no more than nine years old, that Maj brought home something for dinner most nights. Some nights, though, there was no money and no food. Mother was even more distant on those nights, so very occasionally food would appear despite the lack of copper, just so Maj could see her return to something like her old self, who had sat and laughed by the fire with her before a coming storm.

Five years later, and Maj was a fulltime beggar and thief and a parttime apprentice to an old warrior who had taken a liking to the serious little child. Her time on the streets had taught her persuasion and theatrics, and toughened her to bullies who would take what wasn’t theirs. Her evenings spent with the soldier honed her sword skills and gave her someone to talk to more honestly. He listened well to her confessions about her mother and her nightmares, her worries, her hunger both physical and emotional, her desires to do something more in her life than beg on corners and her fears of what might happen to her should she leave this town where her mother seemed finally to have settled down. Sometimes, he even gave advice when she needed it. Mostly, though, he listened and let her work it out on her own. Without saying anything, he taught her to think before reacting and to work through a problem rather than simply hitting it with a sword, as so many Greytides tended to do.

Nothing good lasts forever though. As Clan Grimward made its final push into Nightriver territory, the old warrior was called to battle one last time. He bade farewell to the 15-year-old Maj and went east to join the final battle, to pass on to the Great Wolf where Maj couldn’t reach him. 

Maj left the village soon after, angry and lost but determined to earn her way and rise among her clan. For two years she wandered, working as a sell sword when she could and an errand runner when nothing else appeared. She spent what she needed for equipment and food, and sent the rest back to her mother. Whenever she was in the area, she would visit Mother. Mother had come back to something like herself with Maj’s departure, shuffling around their little shack of a house to sweep when she started to sneeze from the dust, cooking the occasional meal, and waving to the neighbors as they passed. She had aged quickly, hair completely white already, puffing out like a cloud around her stooped shoulders. Maj always smiled around Mother, but it hurt to see her like this. 

In the year 267, Maj answered the call to clear the mordok from the Great Wolf’s Hackles, traveling with another Grimward warrior to join the effort against the monsters who had slaughtered her sisters. She was determined this time to do more than hide. There, she proved herself in front of some who carried word of her bravery in the face of mortal enemies and mortal wounds, and of her continued aid of the injured even after her own near death. They spoke also of her ability to work alongside any who stood against the mordok, regardless of clan or race, though perhaps not of her willingness to do so.

She was declared Champion of Pack Greytide not long after for her deeds in the mountains, and Khulgar Grimward claimed her as a cousin. He granted her the title of Hersir to Clan Grimward, an honor she very nearly refused because of her lack of political experience. He insisted, though, perhaps seeing something in her that she herself had missed. She served her pack and clan both on the battlefield and on the political stage, crafting deals when not maneuvering warriors against the mordok. 

In these positions, she grew and changed. She learned about the world and its people, their differing views and beliefs. It was a time she enjoyed, doing an invaluable service to her clan, yet she felt split down the middle throughout the whole thing. Politics or war? She struggled to choose between the two, to balance them in her life, but in the end the choice to give one up was taken from her.

Pack Greytide is a violent group, not prone to positive progress in politics. Maj was never popular or prominent in her home town, just a child in the background, occasionally accused of thievery. Her return the first year after she became Hersir got her a few dirty looks and some muttering. Some people congratulated her, a few were proud to have a Greytide in such a position. Most simply continued to pretend she didn’t exist. The second year, though, she had been out in the world of politics. She had been making changes, and trade agreements, and alliances with human factions. News had traveled.

Few people ignored her this time. Some stared at her with something like respect, but they didn’t speak up as the others murmured insults as she passed. Maj had been in town less than a day before she was confronted for the first time. It was a drunk elder, shouting at her, calling her a traitor and a sneak. Someone she could easily turn her back on and ignore. He yelled for a while as she walked away, but didn’t pursue her, and no one watching paid him much attention. 

The next time, though, it was a warrior of merit who had come home from the Shield for a month to recover from his wounds. He did not shout, but calmly spoke the insults to her face, calling her honor into question. Baiting her until even Maj’s even temperament could not stand that look on his face. 

The honor duel was long and hard-fought, the two combatants almost evenly matched. Maj was out of practice from her two years of politics, and the warrior was still stiff from healing muscles severed by a mordok blade. Still, both fought fairly and cleanly, and when Maj was at last beaten to the ground and stripped of her title, she acquiesced with grace and took her opponent’s offered hand to help her rise. As she was bested in an honor duel she was forced to give up her title as Champion.

She continues as a respected member of her pack, but can no longer claim the title of Hersir. Perhaps, some day in the future, she will strive for that position again. For now, the protection of Mardrun and Greytide will have to be enough.

Character: Lyr Burnt-Hollow

Played By: Kelly Guthrie

Race: Ulven

Content Warning: Assault

Lyr watched quietly, hidden behind the curtain as her mother struggled to hold off the Mordok that entered the caravan. She listened to the clashing of swords and dying wails outside. Another Mordok entered in through the door behind Mother. Her attention was still held by the Mordok before her, she did not expect it when the dagger was plunged down into the back of her neck. Mother became very still, her arms dropped from a defensive position, down to her sides; she released her weapon dropping it to the floor. She fell to her knees with a thud. Mother looked over at Lyr with no emotion and let out a gurgled cough, blood spattering the curtain. The Mordok who had stabbed her pulled his dagger from her neck, blood now flowing generously from the wound and she collapsed fully onto the floor. Lyr began to cry. Mother was dead.

Lyr reached past the curtain and tried to touch the hand of the Mordok as he was now looting her mother’s body. Not missing a beat he grabbed Lyr’s wrist and pulled her towards him. HARD. There was a “Clang,” and he suddenly felt resistance to his pull. The Mordok still holding onto her arm brushed the curtain aside to reveal a small, refuse covered Ulvin child with her face pressed against the small cage at the back of the caravan. With tears streaming down her face Lyr looked up to meet his eyes, and in almost a whisper she said “Thank you.”

Lyr had cuts and bruises all over her, along with being covered in what one could only assume was her own filth. Even while in pain from being held firmly against the bars of the cage, Lyr smiled. Whether it was death by this Mordok’s blade or being left here to starve to death. Lyr was free. Free of her cruel mother. There would be no more beatings, lashes or constant degrading. No more riddles, mind games and punishments. “Thank you.” she said again. He dropped her hand and turned towards the other Mordok still standing there.

A weight had lifted from Lyr. It felt good watching mother die, seeing the light fade from her eyes. Knowing mother would never have the satisfaction of killing Lyr herself. Mother would often monologue to Lyr about all the different awful ways she could kill her. Lyr was not afraid of death, in fact she had wished for it for so long.

Suddenly Lyr burst into laughter. “It’s Over.” she sobbed. Malnourished and exhausted from all the excitement Lyr blacked out to the sight of the Mordok reaching for the cage and the sound of the cage door opening.

Lyr woke up later, night had come and she could hear the Mordok and the crackling of a fire not far behind her. She was alive. But why? She wondered as she slowly opened her eyes and turned her head to see at least 14 Mordok around a blazing fire, they were cooking some kind of meat. They didn’t seem to notice Lyr moving or watching. She did not understand them so she didn’t care to listen. Her stomach growled, that food smelled so good. She scanned the area for any food that was unattended that she could grab and take off with. She saw a pile of bones not 5 feet from her, it was doable. She jumped up and bolted for them scooped up as much as she could in one swoop and turned to flee into the woods. A few of the Mordok stood up but a particularly large one yelled as if barking an order. And they sat back down and watched as Lyr stumbled into the surrounding woods with arms full of bones, tiny bits of meat still clinging on. What a feast! she thought as she ran. She heard the large Mordok yell something after her, but she didn’t understand so she didn’t bother turning to face him.

Lyr ran into the woods, and when she realized she was not being followed, sat down under a large Oak Tree, and watched as fire flies illuminated the tree from beneath. This was the most beautiful thing Lyr had ever seen. “I’m glad I lived to see this. It’s like Magic. A Glowing Oak.”

The next morning Lyr looked over the bones she had gnawed at all night and in the light of day realized what they were, but now after everything she had been through; she didn’t even care. Her belly was full and they tasted good.

Lyr followed the Mordok who freed her from her mother (most likely unintentionally) since that previous night, skulking around and watching them hunt and kill. She made sure to never get too close, but she watched and learned quite a lot from them. They always seemed to know when she was close, and some of them would taunt her by hanging food just out of reach as if it was some sort of game. When she would come too close they would start shooting the ground around her feet to chase her off. However, the larger Mordok always seemed to bark something at those who played with her and they would sulk off as if they were scolded, leaving the Large one to chase her off repeatedly. Other than that, they all acted as if Lyr didn’t exist as long as she stayed her distance. She was fine with that though, Lyr liked watching them.
After about a week though Lyr became desperate for anything to eat. She waited until after dark and they all seemed to be asleep. Lyr stealthily slithered into their camp up to the campfire. She reached out to take a small chunk of meat so as to not be too noticeable, but one of the Mordok found her, took up a bone with some meat on it, and began the game with her once again. It only lasted about five minutes before the large Mordok thundered in, throwing the smaller one in a fit of rage to the ground. It then turned its bloodshot eyes upon Lyr and began to draw a bow with arrows. It didn’t take long for Lyr to recognize this Mordok was not wanting to play, but was going to kill her if she didn’t run. She dug her bare feet into the dirt and ran into the woods, darting between the trees.
“Choďte týmto spôsobom! Nevracajte sa! Nebudete znova ušetrení! Beh!” were the words roared behind her. She looked back to only see an arrow landing in the tree directly next to her. “BEH!” the large Mordok boomed. With that Lyr left to come upon a small town, if you could call it that. But there were people and FOOD.