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Paldo Larpapadom

PLAYED BY: Bryan Richmond

CHARACTER NAME: Paldo Larpapadom

GENDER: Male

PREFERRED PRONOUN(S): He/him

CLASS: Rogue

AGE: 54

RACE: Human

HAIR: grey, mostly

EYES: hazel

OCCUPATION: Artisan, occasional guard, regular at the taverns of Bladehome

KNOWN SKILLS: alchemy, the gathering of reagents, drinking the little britches under the table

BIRTHPLACE: Valinate

APPEARANCE: Portly, bespectacled, just a bit of a jolly ol’ guy dontcha know

NOTABLE TRAITS: Paldo is fairly gregarious and eager to help. Paldo occasionally gives off “dad” vibes.

RELATIONSHIPS: The many members of the Larpapadom family, other common folk of Bladehome, the Broken Blade, a handful of Shattered Spear drinking buddies, a few ex-wifes and perhaps an ex-husband (buy him drinks for a night and maybe he’ll tell that tale), them lads and lasses at the Busty Bosom Chateau

RUMORS: The Larpapadoms in general, and Paldo specifically, hold the traditions of Richtrag and of their home Valinate in high esteem. Paldo will go to great lengths and spend a lot of silver to recover artifacts of his homeland.

BIO / BACKGROUND HISTORY:

Once farmers-turned-merchant folk in Cul’Claimete, the Larpapadom family moved to Valinate nearly two centuries ago. At that time Paldo’s ancestors embraced many paths to improve their lot. More than a few became Íoclaochra in the Valinate tradition. Eventually the Larpapadoms earned a small reputation as artisans, guards, and merchants eager for travel. This turned to their favor with the outbreak of the undead plague as many of the family were aboard a variety of merchant vessels when Valinate fell. The remaining Larpapadoms gathered and, with the stubbornness only those from Richtrag can muster, drank their way to safety.

After an elder Larpapadom found the journal of a long-thought-lost uncle hidden in a barrel of grog, their fate, and that of a young Paldo, was set. Scrawlings marked with spilled booze detailed a trip across the seas to a new land “for them strange Syndar, poor wretches lost the other boat.” Using clues left in The Book, the Larpapadoms were amongst the first to land on Mardrun. Not the first mind you, drunk Richtcrag scribblings make little sense to drunk Richtrag eyes, and drunk Richtcrag mouths belted out directions that made even less sense to any ear, but they arrived amongst the first wave of refugees nonetheless. That being said, Paldo was the first Larpapadom to lay foot on foreign soil, eager to embrace a new world and perhaps a local drink. Alas, to be so headstrong and cocksure now as he was in his thirties. The grog doesn’t go down like it used to.

Paldo and his brethren kept close to one another, working what trades and caravans they could in the new lands of the Colonists and, occasionally, Ulven territories as well. The Larpapadoms had perhaps a bit better luck with life on Mardrun than some, thanks to an insular nature and a variety of skills on hand. Always keep family close and a whiskey closer, as they say. Valinate shrewdness may have added some spice to Larpapadom success as well.

By the time a much older Paldo heard rumors of Bladehome, he was all too eager to set aside his spear and forge a proper home for the remnants of

Richtcrag. While some of his younger relatives took to the excitement of joining the Broken Blade as warriors and merchants in those early days, Paldo took his own path. Let the little ones earn their feathers, eh. Laying stone and cutting wood made for a long day, a good drink sitting on a bridge just built beside others made for a nice end to it. Sorting out minor cuts, bumps, and bruises, along with other tinkered small fixes to tools and the occasional armor kept things interesting, and was a sure way to make time for an extra sip or two. And if some brigands needed a lesson for interrupting such fine work, well Ol’ Paldo wasn’t one to shy away from providing an education, no sir. For the most part though, Paldo was eager to make friends with Shattered Spear villagers, share a drink or two, concoct a potion when able, and wander off searching for reagents when he could.

Then, after seemingly forever, Bladehome was alive. For a moment, familiar Richtcrag smells and celebrations brought Paldo back to his first, and last, Masquerade. Such joy and wantonness bubbling up out of Richtcrag hardiness. It was when he heard Volrock speak to the people of Bladehome that Paldo knew his heart would never leave. Here was a place for his people. A regular at the Busty Bosom Chateau, he has all but accepted Belterra as a surrogate daughter, a “feisty Larpapadom if there ever was one” by his estimate.

With recent events unfolding, Paldo has decided to take a more active role. It doesn’t sit well with him that the Grimward killed their own clan leader, and another Ulven leader in such a vulgar display, from what he was told. Making war in such a way seemed underhanded, and someone ought to teach those pups some etiquette. Despite many protests behind closed doors in the Larpapadom household, Paldo has taken up his old caravan guard armor (hey, it still fits!) and has fully offered his skills, trades, and service to Bladehome, the Broken Blade, and to Volrock himself.

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Snippets from the Bard Book of Aina Riverhead – Pt. I

May 273

Aina had been temporarily settled in Newhope territory, collecting ballads and folklore from various colonists, when she caught word of the calamitous Moot. Separated from her ancestral land, as well as from the supporting Shattered Spear and Goldenfield clans, she chose to join the most pressing efforts – requiring a perilous trip into Stormjarl territory. Aina found herself nearly frozen in terror as her travel group was pursued; memories of her ineffectiveness at Riverhead flooded her body and mind. She arrived in the camp wide-eyed and disoriented. She gathered herself quickly enough and set to work with her music. Over the years, she had heard tales of some of Stormjarl’s most renowned members. She endeavored to bring comfort and vigor to their efforts in this new war.

Below are some relevant snippets from her Bard book.

——————————————————————————————————————————

“Ballad of the Unyielding”

I sing a tale of Ulven betrayed,

Of terror and if our steelèd resolves,

We began war after losses that day,

But this lament, it is for Toralf.

It started at a gathering of clans,

Called in the season of clouds and chill,

To discuss concerns across all our lands,

As we kept our cups and our bowls filled.

[Chorus:]

Toralf of the Stormjarl Clan,

Last seen as he was shielding,

Rages better than any man,

O where is Toralf the Unyielding?

Rival clans, they were swiftly hard pressed

In tensions over a false Grimward’s spear,

Then with mostly one weapon per guest,

All there gathered to lend an ear.

The jarls spoke about strife and of aid,

Of holding fast against Mordok hoards,

When came up the matter of recent raids,

With flying banners of clan Grimward.

[Chorus]

As the leaders engaged in their talks,

Our hero tended the communal flames,

Suddenly the Grimwards pulled out a box,

And began to stake a new claim.

They revealed that their hearts had rotten to black,

As they ordered parting of the fabric red,

The crowd led out hushèd growls and gasps,

As out came Hagreth’s severed head.

[Chorus]

The Traitors dragged forth a hooded man,

“Branthur Nightriver,” they proudly teased.

He was forced to state his name and his clan,

Then harshly dispatched on his knees.

They commanded all to hold back their steel,

To make their choice to surrender or flee,

Our hero, he stood back despite his zeal,

And braced to keep his people free.

[Chorus]

Toralf is renowned for many bold feats,

Twice he’s been badly maimèd before,

For he would never accept defeat,

Even in the face of death bolts.

So, at the hour of the moot’s ill fate,

Among the strongest was he fielded,

Assigned to protect his people’s escape,

With handforgèd arms that he wielded.

[Chorus]

He endured all that he could of their blows,

His heart swelling with valiant rage,

The damage put him down into final throes,

Then he leapt to his feet in a rampage.

He bled as he blindly swung through his surge,

Berserking as the man who never yields,

But in his weakened state, he was captured,

And his fate remains yet unsealed.

[Chorus]

——————————————————————————————————————————

Ylva’s Hymn

Ylva, Lifemender, of Stormjarl,

O Master of salves,

Keeper of burdens and life threads,

Healer of Mardrun,

cleanser of corruption & ills,

May Gaia

ease your path.

Ylva, Lifemender, cutter away,

O Redeemer of the war-pained,

You of gentle touch and strong will,

Healer of Mardrun,

cleanser of corruption & ills,

May the Great Wolf

sing your name.

Ylva, Lifemender, skill-teacher,

O Weaver of spirit,

Hands of blood-red and ink-stain,

Healer of Mardrun,

cleanser of corruption & ills,

May we wash

your hands in turn.

——————————————————————————————————————————

Bryech the Untouchable

In the Ulven’s war-frought story,

Our hero he survives,

Bathed in the hard-won glory,

On battlefields he thrives.

Survivor of the Battle of Blackwolf Creek

In the lands to the North,

There the woods called to be cleared,

So the peoples chose their heroes,

Among the most revered.

Honored Few of the Great Wolf’s hunt

And Survivor of the Battle of Blackwolf Creek

On these newly hallowed grounds,

Lay the stronghold of the wolves,

Manned with bands of clanless warriors,

Led by the fierce and bold:

Former Longfang Weaponmaster

Honored Few of the Great Wolf’s hunt

And Survivor of the Battle of Blackwolf Creek

With his allies in war,

He leapt from warships beaching,

Saved Stormjarls’ twenty four

And held lines against all breaching.

Shield of the Viknar,

Former Longfang Weaponmaster

Honored Few of the Great Wolf’s hunt

And Survivor of the Battle of Blackwolf Creek

When packs began to splinter,

The Aettinjav was planned,

That day he fought unhindered,

And remained the last to stand.

Victor of the Maw,

Shield of the Viknar,

Former Longfang Weaponmaster

Honored Few of the Great Wolf’s hunt

And Survivor of the Battle of Blackwolf Creek

At cursèd Silfurfal,

The Mordok burned and pillaged,

til Bryech maimed and mauled

The largest one in that mad village.

O Alpha Slayer,

Victor of the Maw,

Shield of the Viknar,

Former Longfang Weaponmaster

Honored Few of the Great Wolf’s hunt

And Survivor of the Battle of Blackwolf Creek

“Should this man not be dead?”

Ask the foes who fear his blade,

Yet with piercing eyes of red

He still fights wholely unscathed.

The Untouchable

O Alpha Slayer,

Victor of the Maw,

Shield of the Viknar,

Former Longfang Weaponmaster

Honored Few of the Great Wolf’s hunt

And Survivor of the Battle of Blackwolf Creek

Bryech of Word Fame*,

May the Great Wolf know your names

The Untouchable

O Alpha Slayer,

Victor of the Maw,

Shield of the Viknar,

Former Longfang Weaponmaster

Honored Few of the Great Wolf’s hunt

And Survivor of the Battle of Blackwolf Creek

*Note: An alternate lyric here could be “Bryech the Treebane.” This captures an eighth frequently referenced honorific, after a battle incident involving the felling of several minor trees. While I have heard this title numerous times in my travels, it remains unclear to me whether this is an “official” honorific taken by Bryech himself.”

——————————————————————————————————————————

Out-of-game Footnotes

1: Lyrics fully original. Melody is a lightly altered version of “Blome Swete Lilie Flour” by Daniel Hart for the movie The Green Knight.

2: Lyrics fully original. Melody is “St Birgitta Hymn” by Trio Mediæval.

3: Lyrics & melody fully original. Musically based on the (morbid) French nursery song “Alouette.”

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June 2024 – Nature’s Unrelenting Fury

= EVENT STORY =

The eyes of the continent remain on Clan Shattered Spear as Clans Grimward and Stonetooth continue their advance. Having been given time to organize their warpacks, they now are better able to meet the invaders on the battlefield. However, their supply lines and logistics behind the frontline remains critical even with the arrival of the supplies from Clan Ironmound that were honorably promised during the Moot. Indications show that the Clan has had to abandon hopes in rebuilding their homes and towns in the north from their prior conflict with the Mordok to instead keep their warriors fed and supplied with unbroken equipment for this war. Clan Grimward, bolstered by Clan Stonetooth, continues to field an overwhelming army and drive hard against Clan Shattered Spear, forcing their warpacks to fill their ranks with trained militia. Farmers stand beside veteran warriors in an attempt to defend their ancestral lands.

Clan Shattered Spear continues their requests for aid, both on the frontline taking place among the various defensive positions opposing the conquering forces and in supply line and logistical support. This month they primarily require help with their critical supply situation, and the Clan is seeking assistance in many aspects like harvesting materials, training militia and support, gathering healing reagents, protecting supplies from small groups of Grimward raiders, and many other rear line logistics and duties of the war effort.

= EVENT SUMMARY =

Clan Shattered Spear’s allies show up in great numbers to aid the clan, but nothing proves to be as impactful as the brutal weather that sweeps across the landscape. With Clan Griwmards’ advance temporarily halted, the storms prove to be Shattered Spear’s greatest ally, but also their greatest enemy as their own logistic efforts are greatly hindered. Despite the storms, Clan Shattered Spear’s allies prove their determination to help, or hatred for Clans Grimward and Stonetooth. 

In the cover of village taverns, locals are trained in healing and first aid, while the endless ringing of overfilled smithies and forges keeps away anyone who wishes to keep their hearing intact. Whenever breaks can be found in the blinding rainfall and tree-rupturing lightning, laborers hurry to the local woods and ore patches, while warriors continue their patrols on the main logistical roads. 

Larger raiding groups are driven away by the focused effort by warriors and soldiers, which are quickly followed by teams of experienced workers and laborers who work to improve the main road conditions, allowing supplies to reach their destinations despite the endless muddy pits and ongoing weather. These combined efforts make a notable difference in ensuring supplies aren’t lost, stolen, or destroyed as they reach the frontlines, but as the supply carts return to the rearlines they find damage to the upkeep and repairs that were done. Reports are soon received that small groups of raiders have been following distantly behind the convoys to cause damage to the roads, since other targets were too well guarded. This caused notable delays in further supplies reaching their needed targets, when the weather was permitting.

Only time will truly tell, but Clan Shattered Spear reports that their critical supply situation has been alleviated for now. With the addition of the storms the clan has bought time in continuing their fight against the southern invaders, although their future still remains rocky and uncertain. Nevertheless, the people of Shattered Spear make sure to thank the people from Mardrun’s many cultures, clans, and groups for their continued blood and sweat. While darkness still looms on the horizon, a darker fate would befall the clan if not for those who willingly risk their lives.

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Froden Nightblossom

Player: Kollin Bode

Name: Froden Nightblossom of Clan Nightriver

Gender: Male

Age: 24

Race: Ulven

Occupation: Shepard/Herbalist/Leader

Skills: Leadership, Literacy, Asskicking

Appearance: Young, and thin, sporting long brown hair.

Notable Traits: Headstrong, great with children, plants, and animals.

Relationships: Family; Mates(Freya, Ingrid, Astrid, Saga) Pups(Hilda, Frida, Kelda, Edda, Estrid, Eldrid, Sigrid, Sigfreid, Helga, Gudrun, Thyra, Solveig, Runa, Svanhild, Ylva, Embla, Anne, Kirsten, Inge, Lise, Bjorn, Erik, Leif, Sven, Ulf, Gunnar) Other; Ulven Hirdmadr(Leader)

Rumors: Apparently he has way more pups, like upwards of 80.

BIO: Pack Nightblossom was a pioneering force in early Ulven alchemy. Though many of their teachings have since been made obsolete since Faedrun alchemy found its way ashore, it was due to this Pack’s knowledge of Mardrun floral applications that alchemical processes were so quickly able to transfer. Many Mardurn flora catalogs and alchemy textbooks cite Nightblossom Witches and Herbalists as sources and contributors. Their most notable contributions relate to the fickle nature of Moonflowers, as well various collection methods, and refinement processes.

Froden Nightblossom has been cited in no such examples. He is a Shepard. Though he does still pose an aptitude for his pack’s name sake.

Guiding his flock across the rolling hills and verdant meadows of Clan Nightriver, Froden found a profound connection to the land and its creatures. His understanding of the natural world went beyond the realm of alchemy; it was rooted in the rhythms of life and the balance of nature.

Yet, despite his humble occupation, Froden’s life was far from ordinary. Blessed with a magnetic charm and an irrepressible spirit, he found himself entangled in a web of love and companionship unlike any other. For Froden Nightblossom was not just a shepherd; he was a man with four mates and twenty-six pups, each one a testament to his boundless capacity for love and devotion.

His mates, each a formidable presence in her own right, brought harmony and joy to his life. From the gentle grace of Mother Gaia, they formed a tapestry of strength and resilience, supporting Froden through the trials and triumphs of his days.

Together, they built a home filled with laughter and warmth, a sanctuary amidst the chaos of the world. But even the strongest bonds could not shield them from the winds of change that swept across the land.

As Civil War loomed on the horizon, Froden and his family found themselves caught in the crossfire of shifting allegiances and ancient rivalries. Their once peaceful existence was shattered as the conflict engulfed their homeland, forcing them to flee for their lives.

With their world torn asunder, Froden and his family embarked on a journey into the unknown, seeking refuge from the storm that raged around them. But through it all, they remained united, drawing strength from the love that bound them together, a beacon of hope in the darkness of war.

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Æsa

PLAYER NAME: Samantha Klinkhammer

CHARACTER NAME: Æsa  (Pronounced eye-suh)

AGE: 25

RACE: Ulven (Path of the Greatwolf)

CLASS: Ranger/Warrior

HAIR: Brown

EYES: Green

OCCUPATION: Hunter out for revenge

RELATIONSHIPS: Signe Ironshear, Hildr Ironshear, Froden Nightblossom, Halfdan Olegson.

BIO:

“Vivica, you are in charge while I am away.” Aesa started gathering her hunting gear as she talked with her eldest. “Don’t answer the door to anyone, you understand? Not even me, not with how things are right now. Make sure your little sister gets her milk as well please” Vivica stood by the front door listening to her mother.  

“Yes Ma’am” Watching her mother walk towards Kara and kissing her forehead, Vivica fiddled with the hem of her sleeves. “When do you think you’ll be back?” Vivs voice shook with uncertainty. 

“I don’t know child…” Aesa walked over to her daughter and hugged her. “I’ll do my best to be quick” Aesa looked at  Vivica one last time before heading out for the day. 

As the hours pass by, chaos shrouded the village they live in. Grimward has started an attack on the village, homes engulfed in flames. Vivica took notice and started barricading the doors and windows to try and block any intruders coming in. To no avail a few raiders busted through the door. One of the men struck a blow on Viv knocking her down onto the ground in pain.  

“WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO US?!” Tears started streaming down her face, Kara could be heard crying until someone walked over to her…The room filled with a deathly silence. Skarde was next, they grabbed the 7 year old boy by his neck and lifted him into the air.  

“Why?” A sinister laugh echoed from the man “because young child, if no one here joins us. THEY WILL ALL DIE!!!!” His grip tightened around neck as Skarde clawed at the man choking the life out of him. Vivica took notice of Kara, blood was dripping down from the cloth she was wrapped in. She then turned her attention to Skarde who was fighting with whatever life he had left. Viv stood up taking everything in, her breathing becoming uneven, unable to control herself. She became blinded with rage and charged at the vile creature taking her brothers life away. Vivica plunged a knife into his knee causing him to drop Skarde, another person rushed over to try and attack the two but she held her brother close to her and screamed for these terrible beings to leave.  Out of nowhere powerful waves of magical energy could be felt throughout the area causing the enemies to pause in their tracks. It was at that moment she knew something was wrong, the men looking at one another as if they were speaking to each other without using their lips.  

“How about this-” Viv held her brother tightly to her as these men walked closer to her “We will spare your little brother if you come with us” Her eyes darted between Skarde and the men, fear in her eyes. Knowing what had to be done Vivica whispered to her brother.  

“Don’t worry, I’ll be back one day…I love you Skarde” They cried together before one of the men grabbed Viv by her hair and dragged her away.  Skarde crawled over to his baby sister Kara and held her close, waiting for their mother to come home.  

Aesa had a successful hunting trip and started to walk back towards the village.  Smoke rose high which caught Aesa by surprise. Who could be making such a large fire? Her eyes followed the trail of smoke down to the main action. Aesa dropped the rabbits and dashed on over to her home. 

“Skarde?! Vivica?!” She rushed in to see her son cradling his dead sister, tears streaming down his face as he tried to stay brave.  

“She’s gone Momma…Kara…” Skardes voice cracked, unable to hold his emotions anymore he started to cry hard as he clung to Kara. “They took Vivica Momma, they took her away…” Aesa walked over to her children and held them to her. “She’ll come back…She said so herself.” Skarde leaned into his mothers embrace not once letting go of Kara. Aesa’s breathing was uneven taking in the information he had given her.  

“We need to leave…” She took kara and stood up walking over to the fireplace, rearranging the logs and laying Kara down on them. “Onrich is our safest option right now my son” Skarde walked over watching his mother place his sister inside the fireplace. “Once we reach there I will do what I can to secure us shelter.” Aesa lit her fireplace and took a step back holding Skardes hand.  

“Momma…I’m scared” He squeezed his mothers hand tightly as she stared at the flames. Aesa did her best to stay strong for her son but that didn’t last long as she started to hear the sizzling of Kara’s skin. Aesa fell to her knees as a throbbing pain formed inside of her chest. Kara is Dead. Vivica is gone. My son is bruised. I will have my revenge.  

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Halfdan Olegson

CHARACTER NAME: Halfdan Olegson

PLAYER NAME: Michael Hannes

AGE: 29

RACE: Ulven/Path of the Great Wolf

CLASS: Warrior

HAIR: Brown

EYES: Brown

OCCUPATION: Farmer/Laborer

RELATIONSHIPS: Signe Ironshear, Hildr Ironshear, Froden Nightblossom, Æsa

BIO SUMMARY:

My name is Halfdan Olegson. I come from a long line of turnip farmers and have lived on the family farm in the village of Molvun in Clan Nightriver my whole life. Our farm goes back to my great great great grandfather Oleg Halfdanson, who passed the farm down to his son Halfdan Olegson, who passed it to his son Oleg Halfdanson, who passed it to his son Halfdan Olegson, who passed it to my father Oleg Halfdanson who was going to pass it to me, Halfdan Olegson. The day started like any other, I woke up, washed my face and got ready for the day’s chores. We needed more wood for the kitchen to cook with so I was tasked with felling trees while my father Oleg tended the fields with our beloved steer Sigi, and my mother Olga and sister Gida were busy weaving and preparing the days meals.

By the time I chopped down and split about three trees the sun was blazing high. I was beginning to make my way back home to get some food when I saw smoke coming from the village. I ran as fast as I could to the farm and found Sigi dead in the field, and my father fighting a couple of Grimward raiders. “Go find your mother and sister!! I can handle this!” he shouted to me. I ran as fast as I could back to the house only to find it burning. I looked inside to find my mother and sister laying in pools of their own blood. As the blaze continued it was too hot for me to try and reach their bodies. Before I could react the roof collapsed and buried them in the rubble. I didn’t have time to mourn, I had to go back to the fields and help my father with the raiders, but by the time I got back he had been cut down. I looked as one of the raiders had been wounded pretty badly and the other didn’t even have a scratch. As they turned to look at me I froze. I wasn’t a fighter, I was a farmer. These were battle hardened raiders, what chance did I have? As they began to walk towards me I gripped my axe preparing for my death. With every step closer my body began to shake more and more until my sight turned blood red. I had never felt this anger before, this hatred, this….rage. It burned in my chest hotter than the blaze that took my mother and sister. I let out a roar of pain and anger and charged forward to meet them. I don’t remember fighting, I don’t remember being hit, all I remember is standing over the raiders bodies and my axe dripping with their blood. As I calmed down I realized I had taken a pretty nasty gash to my leg. Luckily it didn’t seem too bad, my mother taught me basic first aid and that should do just fine. 

After I bandaged my leg I made my way back to the village to see if there were others that needed any help. It seems like the raid had ended just as fast as it began. I moved from house to house helping everyone I could that needed basic first aid. Anything more grievous I was unable to do anything. Some of the other villagers spoke of how other villages had been hit by Grimward raids and that refugees were gathering in Onrich. I was also told about how Grimward has joined with Clan Stonetooth and executed the barbaric murder of Branthur Nightriver. Upon arrival it was a ghastly sight. Wounded refugees pouring in from surrounding villages. As I made my way into the village I heard others calling for aid to take up arms and fight back against Grimward. They were farmers like I was and a fire burned in their hearts just like mine. I held my axe high and told them I would fight, and before long I had joined the ranks of the Ulfen Hirðmaðr. I will avenge my family and my farm. I may only be a simple farmer, but I will fight until my last breath to try and make a difference. I am Halfdan Olegson….and I am out for blood.

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Pack Ironshear

Clan: Belongs to Clan Nightriver

Size: Small-Medium

Insignia: For everyday use, one wears a braid of white wool on their belt.  During ceremonies or important events, one braids white yarn into their hair.  In wartime, these can be dipped in red dye, representing spilt blood.

Pack Ironshear is a small farming pack in North Central Nightriver, bordering the Great Wolf’s Hackles and near but not bordering the pass.  It shares a border with Pack Blackknife to the southwest.  The large swaths of clear land with bright green grass make the area perfect for raising sheep.  As such, wool and mutton are their main exports. 

Ironshear Ulven are renowned for their peacefulness and textile work, but their nearness to the Pass has made them easy targets for raiders and thus they have been forced to take up arms in recent years.

Leaders

Chieftain: Olgur Ironshear

High Priestess: Borda Járnúll

Founding

Pack Ironshear is very old.  It has been around as long as anyone can remember.  While the facts of its founding are not known, there are legends.  

The story goes that on one of the Great Wolf’s hunts, he butchered four sheep, and gave the hides to Gaia.  Gaia wove the wool into pure white cloaks, and magic into each of them.  She gifted one cloak to each of four Ulven families.  The first cloak granted the first family great resolve and patience.  The second granted great strength.  The third great agility.  The fourth cloak granted the skill of weaving. 

The four families became known as Járnúll, Rammrúll, Hraðrúll, and Vefaúll.  

Járnúll was distinguished from the others by their calm temperament and slow, calculating movement.  Rammrúll was distinguished by their hotheadedness and strength.  Hraðrúll by their lean bodies and quick movement.  Vefaúll was distinguished by their deft hands and finely woven clothes.  

They soon formed a pack, and being chosen by the Great Wolf and Gaia, the pack rose to the top of a large and prosperous clan.

There is no evidence backing up this legend of the founding save for four Ironshear families named Járnúll, Rammrúll, Hraðrúll, and Vefaúll.

Today, Pack Ironshear consists of a few scattered agrarian communities.  There is no information about the fall of the pack.  

Unique Cultural Features & Tidbits

Braids

While braids are popular among all Ulven, Pack Ironshear takes it a step further.  Ironshear pups wear two braids, one over each ear, often called ‘pup braids’. The style is known to outsiders as ‘double braids’.   When a pup reaches 20 years of age or proves themselves to be grown, a braiding ceremony is held.  During this ceremony, a village elder takes out the pup’s braids and rebraids it into a single one going over the top of the head.  This is usually a festive coming of age ceremony.

Ironshear Ulven see unbraided hair as unclean and unruly.  It is indecent to have your hair like this in public.

Bronze

Wearing or using bronze is thought to ward off evil and sickness.  Ironshear Ulven are rarely seen without some form of bronze on their person or gear.  Doors often have bronze fittings if the homeowner can afford it.  Shields are also commonly decorated with bronze.

Faer-Eigi

The Faer-Eigi are shape-shifting creatures of Ironshear legend, said to prey on shepherds and their flocks near the Hackles.  They stalk when visibility is low or when a shepherd is inattentive.  They take the form of a sheep, and if they are not discovered, kill the shepherd and the flock.

Identifying a Faer-Eigi can differ based on the story.  Sometimes, they act in unnatural ways.  Sometimes they look just a little off.  More often, there is no way to identify which of your sheep is a Faer-Eigi.  In some of these stories, the Faer-Eigi will leave when it is counted.  In all of them, a Faer-Eigi cannot infiltrate your flock if you keep proper count.

Pictures of Pack Ironshear

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Hildr Ironshear

PLAYED BY: Trinity Peckham

CHARACTER NAME: Hildr Ironshear

PRONOUN(S): She/her

CLASS: Warrior

AGE: Born during the harvest season around 17 years ago.

RACE: Ulven

HAIR: Brown

EYES: Blue

OCCUPATION: Hildr was a sheep farmer but now fights against Grimward with the Ulfen Hirðmaðr

KNOWN SKILLS: She can till a field, shear a sheep, bash heads and break shields.First Aid, Two Handed Weapons, Cleaving, Shield Proficiency, Armor Proficiency, Trade: Laborer

BIRTHPLACE: Hildr was born in Pack Ironshear, a pack of mostly shepherds in North Central Nightriver territory

APPEARANCE: Hildr wears plain clothes and a permanent scowl.

NOTABLE TRAITS: Hildr would look like any other farm girl if it weren’t for the large axe and the tangible desire to use it.

RELATIONSHIPS: Ignis Rammrúll: Mother

Bjorn Hraðrúll: Father

Æsa- A fellow member of the Hirðmaðr

Signe- A fellow member of the HIrðmaðr and Pack Ironshear.  Hildr saved her from her burning house.

Froden Nightblossom- A fellow member of the Hirðmaðr

Halfdan- A fellow member of the Hirðmaðr

RUMORS:

“She brims with such anger that birds do not sing when she is nearby.”

“Her axe whispers to her when a Grimward warrior is close.”

BIO / BACKGROUND HISTORY: It was a pleasantly cold spring evening.  The sky was the color of a hearthfire, the black Hackles imposed on it from below.  Freshly sheared sheep meandered across the darkening landscape.  All was at peace.  After absorbing the last warmth of the sun, I got up and gave my sheepdog Trygve the command to bring the sheep back.

I was slow getting back home.  Home was excited to see me and met me halfway.  Two raiders dropped the sacks they had been carrying and sauntered over to me in the manner of a wolf that looms over a trapped rabbit.  They taunted me.

“Your village is gone.  What will you do about it, pup?”

“They screamed like babies and burned like candles in a bonfire.”

“How selfish of you to have left them to die.”

I stood frozen in my boots.  I felt like a possum, playing dead.  It sickened me.  From the corner of my vision, I saw something dark moving through the air.  A long dark spot, flying.  No, leaping into view.  My eyes followed it as it went.  I realized what was happening.  Trygve latched on to a raiders throat.  Blood everywhere.  A scream pierced my ears.  I ran and the world blurred.  Not only from the running, but from the tears in my eyes when I heard Trygve’s growling cut off.

“You bitch,” Screamed the remaining raider, “I’ll bury you and your fucking hound!”  That made me turn around and stop.  I didn’t care if he wanted to bury me, but Trygve was a different matter.

“Come and bury me, then,” I screamed at him, my words marred by tears.  I would have sobered up and run when he started to take me up on that, had he not just unsheathed his sword from the bloody wreck that was my dog.  It only made me angrier.

As the raider came closer, clearly upset, I readied myself.  I had no idea how to fight.  The closest I’d gotten was using my crook on a particularly determined  wayward sheep.  Neither of our heads were clear, but the space between my crook and his leg certainly was.  Acting on instinct, I hooked the leg and calmly guided it into the air.  The raider fell.  He was surprised.  I surprised his head with my boot.

Remembering what the raiders had said about my village, I ran back, twisted visions swimming through my mind.

An eerie sight lay before my eyes.  It was almost quiet.  In my head, I imagined screams, blood running down the streets, and people running to and fro.  This was worse.  It was worse because there was no fanfare.  To the world, the burning of my home was nothing special.  The burning buildings sounded no different from a crackling hearth, and the wind sounded no different as it blew my tears back into my eyes.

I hoped they had spared my house and that I could walk inside.  My worries would melt away.  My father would be baking sweet bread and my mother would be cleaning a kill outside the window.  But my house was nothing special.

Where my house should have been, I found a spot of ash and timbers, no different from the spot next to it.  I did not look for my parents’ bodies.  If they died, then their souls had already been freed.  If they had been taken as thralls, I would find them.  I wouldn’t be able to do it on my own, though.  I would need help.

Walking through the remains of the village, I saw a still-burning house and a woman inside of it.  I thought I recognized her.  Yes, Signe.  She was looking at something.  She didn’t seem to be interested in escaping.  I felt the need to shout, “Signe, get out of there!  You will burn!”  I grabbed a wool blanket and took it upon myself to save her.  I entered where a wall had collapsed and hauled her out by the shoulder.

After a few days spent crying and picking up some of what was left behind, I went back to Signe.  She was hurt and angry, like I was.  “I am going to Onrich, if you’d be going that way too we could pass that way together?  I want to send those raiders to the Great Wolf and I need to find people that will help me.”

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Signe Járnúll Ironshear

PLAYED BY: Bethany Peckham

CHARACTER NAME: Signe Járnúll Ironshear

GENDER: female

PRONOUN(S): She/her

CLASS: Rogue

AGE: 30

RACE: Ulven

HAIR: Brown

EYES: Blue

OCCUPATION: Angry ex-farmer of miscellaneous food items bent on revenge.

KNOWN SKILLS: The first part of making a weapon, sewing a hole shut in a garment, but don’t expect it to stay, making food that will keep you from starving.

BIRTHPLACE: Signe was born in pack Ironshear in the lands of Nightriver. Close to the Hackles where her father used the ore from the mountains for blacksmithing.

RELATIONSHIPS: Hildr Rammerúll Ironshear, Halfdan Olegson, Æsa, Froden Nightblossom

Bio/Background History:

Signe woke with smoke filling her senses. Tears streamed from her eyes as she tried peering through the heavy haze to make out her surroundings and get to safety. All of the usual items of her bedroom were present so she was still in her home and not transported to some unknown place. As she reached the door she called out for her children.

“Revna! Kåre!”

The smoke had filled her lungs and she dropped sputtering to the floor. Crackling wood made itself known. It wasn’t the warm sounds of a happy hearth. She struggled up to her feet and pushed against the door. As the door gave way flames filled her sight. The heat enveloped her but Signe kept moving forward. Her eyes locked on the doorway to her daughters’ room. The fire had already engulfed it. Where once there had been walls there was fire climbing the structural supports, but her eyes didn’t see it. Moreover her mind wouldn’t acknowledge the fact that there was no movement in the space that had once been their room.

“Signe! Get out of there!”

The voice sounded distant and muffled, she paid it no heed. A hand grabbed her arm, gripping it tightly and pulling her away from the flames, away from her daughters.

The sun rose behind dark clouds. Few houses still stood in the village that Signe had called home. She and her mate, Svend,  had chosen this place as the best location to raise their daughters and start a farm. The farming was difficult, since the last season Svend had fallen ill and the healers could do nothing for him. He had been with The Great Wolf since then and so the care of the farm came down to Signe and their daughters. Had the girls been a few years older it may have made things easier but they had still been in their child years. Meant to be playing and teasing with the other pups of the village. That day had been particularly rough working in the fields. They had eaten their supper early and likewise went to sleep earlier than usual.  Signe’s mind replays it for her, the outcomes that might have been if they had done things differently. She was told that the raiders were cutting down the ones who ran. Maybe if they had just stayed working longer out in the fields they wouldn’t have been there. Her girls would be alive, but that’s not how it is.

Days had past since the raiders had come through. Those of the small village that are left have packed up what they could. There is no home for any of them here. Some head to larger villages, hoping for security, some go to other packs.

“I’m going to Onrich, if you’d be going that way too we could pass that way together?”

It was the young Ulven, Hildr, who had saved her from the fire. Brave and strong beyond her years. Signe nodded. The smoke had damaged her lungs and voice. She wouldn’t be able to speak for a while. It would take time for those wounds to heal. The loss of her daughters is a wound that would never heal, though the thought of revenge seeps deeper into Signe’s mind.

*Clang, clang* “ Signe! Come here and mind the forge!”

The darkness split in front of Signe as her father’s forge came back to her from memory. A young girl barely in her 20th year came bounding across the floor.

“But Svend was going to show me the sheep that he tends to!”

The warmth of the memory slipped away and she was standing next to her mother. A stern woman able to keep any Ulven male from speaking sideways at her.

“Do you love him? Of course you do, otherwise you wouldn’t be putting me through this! He best be good to you or I will make sure to put him in the ground!”

She was raking the comb through the unruly hair of the girl that sat in front of her. She started plating the tresses with purple  flowers.

“Yes I love him, yes he’s good to me, no you won’t have to put him in the ground.”

Signe remembered this well, her all too common eye roll and response that followed.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me!” her mother had chided.

Once again the memory faded away like smoke to darkness. She was left alone now in this blackness, this emptiness, with her thoughts. The knowledge her father had passed down to her was useful, if she had listened to his teachings with more than half an ear she would have made a fine amount of silver at it. But such are things when you are young and in love. So many days spent running through the tall fields with her soon to be mate. Her mother’s teachings went the same way, mending clothes, making food, who had time for these things when the sun was so warm.

Hildr shook her awake.

“The sun is about up. Time to be moving on.”

The horizons color had just started changing hue. They had no fire set to keep away the nights chill. Would all of her dreams be like this? Moments from her past, things that couldn’t be changed, words that could no longer be said. She dreaded the nights that were to come. The thoughts of reliving her most recent pains sent tears to fill her eyes.

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Saving his A.S.S.

Alister may have been present at the Moot to donate supplies to Shattered Spear after their rough year dealing with Mordok invasions and crazed clansmen, but he knew little about the Ulven and their customs. To be able to attend the Moot without being immediately sent away was, in itself, nothing short of a miracle, and he was quite greatful for the experience to attend. Nothing could have prepared him though, for Clan Grimwards’ presentation of their decapitated leaders’ head in a box and their declaration of conquest after caving in the skull of one of Clan Nightriver’s leaders.

The end of the Moot was swift and abrupt with Grimward troops emerging, confidently telling the delegates that attended that they were surrounded, escape was futile, death would be assured. Chaos erupted, and although armor and anything bigger than a plain, one handed weapon was outlawed from the moot, nothing could prevent Alister’s magic from wrecking havoc as an organized retreat was declared in hopes of breaking out of their siege. Stun bolts, Ice bolts, Pushes were flying at seemingly numerous enemies as they chased after defenseless women and children as they fled behind the few, armed defenders. Just as many curses were thrown back his way as Ulven yelled at him to run with the rest of the citizens.

“I can help damnit! If some clan leader needs an exit, send them to me and I can save them to rally the other clans!” Alister shouted at warriors to busy to pay heed or any notice.

It was when everyone was backed into a corner that Alister made his exit, Recalling back to The Spire’s recall point, waving off the guards and yelling angrily, “There’s been an ambush at an Ulven Moot, Grimward has a new ally, new leader, and they’re declaring war on all who’ll stand against them, tell your commanders, spread the word, prepare yourselves for the coming storm. I need to head home and get my own preparations accomplished.”

The trip back to Aylin’s Reach was quick, not much was remembered about the journey, other than the soldiers back at The Spire asking for more clarification despite Alister yelling, “I said what I said! Spread the damn word, you’re wasting time!”

As he returned to familiar territory, those who recognized him waved. He paid them little notice, muttering under his breath as he hurried to the longhouse that was, the Shelter Service he was trying to create to help people.

“Sigismund! Where are you? We have a problem!” Alister yelled looking for the assistant that’s been managing this colossal project.
“Here sir, what is it?” Sigismund yelled from somewhere inside.

As his eyes adjusted to the inside of the giant building, Alister blinked his eyes and saw his friend coaching some of the new tenants the rules of living there. Despite the large building, it appeared quite homely. Separate family rooms branched off the main hall, which served as a communal eating and social gathering area. A large upper storage area held most of the facilities food and other resources.

Sigismund dismissed the new tenants, “We’ll continue this later, please go outside and assist the other families with the plantation.”

Alister quickly closed the distance to Sigismund, “The Ulven Moot I left last week to attend, it was a trap. Grimward had a hidden ally, they… they killed their own leader… They had his head in a box and presented it as a present at the moot. They also painted the ground red with a Nightriver clan leader’s blood when they bashed his skull in. To say that my… pet project…. is going to grow might be an understatement. We need to be prepared. And also, we need to tell our citizens and see if we can’t muster them to assist in whatever way we can to stop Grimward and this…. this…. new clan they’re allied with. Stonetooth or whatever they’re called.”

Sigismund’s eyes widened at Alister’s story, “By the god’s why would they do that? What….what are they hoping to achieve wiping everyone out?”
“Who the hell knows! It’s madness!” Alister said sighing heavily. “We need to get tenants to focus on being able to repair armor and weapons. We need to help those that can fight for their families and lands to prevent more people from having to start over… There’s been enough victims and tragedies from Mordok attacks and the clanless raiders over the past year. Can you find a trainer and get this started? I’ll try and see what I can do from my end.”
As uncertain as he appeared, Sigismund blinked, “I… I think so… There should be some lesser known armorsmiths around that might have more free time on their hands that could use the practice to improve as well. They might appreciate this…. random opportunity.”
“Yes well…. lets hope these sorts of opportunities don’t come around this damned frequently…. Let’s get to work.”