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Yrsa

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!

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Eldrid

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.

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Svart Revur

PLAYED BY: Jayson Benson
CHARACTER NAME: Svart Revur
GENDER: Male
PREFFERED PRONOUN(S): He/Him/His
CLASS: Rogue
AGE: 38
RACE: Human
HAIR: Greying Black
EYES: Hazel
OCCUPATION: Hunter & Ulven researcher
KNOWN SKILLS: Lore: Survival (0), Armor Proficiency (1), Trade: Hunter, (7), Traps and Devices, (8)
BIRTHPLACE: Northeast Vendregon
APPEARANCE: Unassuming, tall, dressed in black armor, can blend in well in both nature and crowds
NOTABLE TRAITS: A human who seems obsessed with the Ulven, Svart is quiet and often listens far more often than he speaks. His stoicism can at times make other uneasy, but he is generally positive and wants to help those in need. His penchant for sarcasm and wit does not help matters.
RELATIONSHIPS: While he behaves as if he is an Ulven without a clan, he dreams of one day being adopted into a pack and treated as an Ulven.
BIO / BACKGROUND HISTORY:
Svart Revur was born as Brandt Earthentoil in Vendregon, however his grandparents emigrated from Marais-Enceinte in Rightcrag in 198 before the region fell to the undead. The family were able to secure a small piece of land and began to use their patriarch’s farming skills to sustain themselves in their new land. Brandt’s parents raised their children in the ways of their homeland and remained devout followers of Yasin as they had been taught by their parents before them.
Almost immediately after he was born, Brandt’s father began to make plans that would allow his son to join the Íoclaochra roaming the land. Their brightly colored armor and beautifully adorned hats fostered in him a desire to make sure that his son got off the farm and lived the far more lucrative Íoclaochra life. As soon as he was had the strength to hold a short sword, his father began to search for an Íoclaochra to take on his son as an apprentice. After much searching and no small amount of convincing, a lesser-known Íoclaochra named Eist Gøtueiði agreed to take young Brandt on as an apprentice. As far as his father was concerned, Brandt had already become an Íoclaochra the day that his apprenticeship began. It never occurred to him that Eist may not see the boy as anything other than a perfect pupil. Brandt’s father was to be let down. It became clear to Eist early in the apprenticeship that the boy may not have the disposition to serve as a warrior-for-hire for the rest of his life. During their lessons on duels Eist was dumbfounded when Brandt began to try negotiating his way out of the duel in the hopes of gaining an understanding of the problems that led to the fighting rather than simply cutting down his opponent and moving on. Eist tried to remain patient, hoping that his apprentice would grow to appreciate the cold realities of life as an Íoclaochra, however the final straw came when Brandt’s questions cost Eist a contract. They were meeting with a nobleman in Valinate, when instead of simply taking on their paid task, Brandt presented alternative solutions to the customer that did not require steel. The nobleman heeded Brandt’s advice, and thus the contract was lost. This was the final straw for Eist, who promptly returned Brandt to his father. Eist made it clear to both that Brandt would never be an Íoclaochra due to his penchant for not relying upon his steel first and asking questions only after his opposition was eliminated. He also advised that he would warn any other Íoclaochra to never take Brandt on as an apprentice, effectively ending his father’s dream.
The sense of shame and anger was palpable almost immediately. His father did not reject him from the family outright, allowing him to remain on the farm if he kept his mouth shut and worked hard to help the family. If there was any discontent or issues caused, he would be forced to leave. Brandt’s mother did little to soften the situation, as her take was that all was Yasin’s will. Despite his broken relationship with his parents, Brandt toiled on his family farm for a further two years. As the undead threat and war with the May’Kar was at the forefront of their minds, the news of the discovery of Mardrun caught Brandt’s attention. He immediately began to find ways to trade for goods that were of value, hoarded what little silver he came across, and made a plan to get away. Tensions with his father only grew over time, as his father loved to point out Eist’s observations and that he would never amount to anything of value. Brandt became jaded by the culture of Rightcrag, began to see the Yasin as a farce, and struggled to keep his mouth shut about his beliefs when his father would lash out at him. His interest was piqued by the Vendregonian culture that he began to notice and pay attention to, and finally recognized that there were alternatives to the life of his parents. He was simply done with his family and their ridiculous life and expectations. He needed something different.
Upon his 18th birthday, in 251 Brandt decided enough was enough. He fled the family farm in the night with his valuables and headed to Aldoria to start a new life. He wished for Brandt Earthentoil to cease to exist and wanted to eliminate any traces of himself so that he could not be found by his parents , Eist, or those within his community. He sold anything he had of value and agreed to join a group heading to the Mardrun to help with the settlement of the new colony. When he arrived, he took on the name Svart Revur and began to explore his new land. He familiarized himself with the land as best he could, helped farmers to become established, and began to trap and hunt game to provide for himself. He refused to plant roots in the new colony, as his greatest fear was becoming trapped in his life the way that his father had been. When he first encountered the Ulven people he became completely enamored by them. Their warrior culture had sparks of connection to the familiar steel-first culture of Rightcrag and the Íoclaochra, but lacked the pomp and circumstance. While he did not regret his choice to forge a new life, the pangs of homesickness could be relieved by being with the Ulven people. His new name was partially chosen as a way to better connect with the Ulvens where his birth name connected him to the people he left on Faedrun.
Svart subsists as a hunter so that he can remain completely independent. He is happy to help where he can, and often lends his aide to those in need that he encounters, but his years of working silently have caused him to become socially awkward. Many who he encounters walk away from the experience feeling that he was unduly brief and somewhat cold. Svart can sense this, which is partially why he chooses to exist on his own in the Ulven lands rather than establishing himself in Starkhaven or New Aldoria. This also affords him the opportunity to observe and learn more about the Ulven people, their culture, and their rituals. He leverages the knowledge he gained in his Íoclaochra apprenticeship as well as the lessons he’s learned from experience on Mardrun to live a somewhat anonymous life, and as a result his lack of social skills can be perceived by others as his attempt to jettison his “civilized” life for that of a more rugged Ulven roaming Mardrun. Svart sustains himself by roaming the outskirs of the Steinjottun lands and has an understanding with the sentries there. By roaming the lands, he can observe their culture and can work towards integrating himself into the clans. He also relishes in the neutral nature of the clan, and the fact that they seem indifferent to his curiosity. In particular, he works hard to emulate the attitude of pack Fleetfoot and the idea that there is always something to find if you know what to look for. He badly wishes to engrain himself into their pack so that he can learn the secrets of their tracking prowess and better himself as a hunter. He feels that the pack leads the ideal Ulven life that he so badly wishes he had.

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February 271

Word tears across Mardrun of a troubling development along the borders of Newhope territories. A small colonist village was ransacked in a brutal and deadly raid. Not a single inhabitant survived the assault and some of them were even left with their heads on pikes. It wasn’t until a traveling merchant came to the area days later that anyone even knew of their fate.Taverns and alehalls throughout the whole continent are abuzz with worried whispers and fervent debates. Some claim that it must have been the work of bandits, but others think that it was clearly an Ulven attack as some sort of a reprisal for the rumors of the crimes of the Ancient Syndar. Regardless of the perpetrators, the colonists along the border find themselves on edge and sleeping with one eye open. It is yet to be seen if Newhope proper will mount any kind of a military operation along their borders.

The tales of an Ulven hunter who barely survived being lost in a blizzard make their way through the tavern circuit. The stories say that a Nightriver hunter went out to hunt deer on the southside of The Great Forest. She was gone for many days, during which a brutal snowstorm blanketed the land in deep snow. Her packmates began to come to terms with the thought that she may never return, but one day she did. She limped into the village on a broken and splinted leg and after resting told a story of losing her way in the storm and hearing the heavy breathing and dull roar of a beast in the woods. She ran, but while blinded by the storm, tripped over a tree root and fell down an embankment, breaking her ankle. Still hearing the rumble of the beast she pulled herself into the hollow of a large tree and huddled herself together. She continued to hear the beast’s heavy breath and solid footsteps around her tree, but she could not bring herself to look outside. She shivered through the night, but didn’t dare to light a fire. When the morning came and the storm passed she splinted her ankle and made the slow journey home with no quarry, but the story of an event she’ll never forget.


Some months back the Ulven Clans of Mardrun put forth a joint effort to supply a party of Steinjottun Fleetfoot scouts and Spiritclaw Truthseekers to be sent into the heart of The Dirge to verify the rumors that have been circulating about the origins of The Mordok and the lies of Arragones. Though no official statements have been made by any of the Ulven Clans it does appear that some loose lips have given rise to even more rumors that the Ulven scouting party has returned. Many of these rumors also claim that the scouts have verified everything contained in the scandalous letter that has been circulating with claims that Arragones has been lying to cover up the sins of her ancestors. Though some choose to wait for official confirmation by Clanleadership, others have already begun to spread these rumors as fact.

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Past Lore Drops

(Under Construction)
This page contains links to large lore drops over the course of the game. If any drops are missing please let staff know and we will do our best to track them down and link them here.

 

The Lore Speaker Conspiracy – Is the known history of The Ulven People a lie?
A Brief History of The Lorespeaker Conspiracy – Who are the Lorespeakers? What have they done? What are they hiding?
——A List of the Sagas uncovered during the 264 Expedition that first uncovered the conspiracy.
———Thorstein Staff-Struck
———Lament of Athr
———Softpaw Saga
———Banded Man
———Another Ulven Saga

The Ancient Syndar – The Syndar have been on Mardrun in the distant past. What were they doing here? Why was this not known?
The First Cache – The first ancient cache that revealed the Ancient Syndar came to Mardrun. This cache was found in Watchwolf Territories in March of 268.
Arragones on The Pylons – An expedition to The Great Forest found the remnants of an Ancient Syndar Pylon. (April 268)
The Second Cache – An ancient cache was revealed in the Dirge Swamp, but to open it required the aid of an unlikely assistant. (May 268)
Secret Origins in the Dirge – The heart of the Dirge was found and with it came many strange visions of the past. Arragones released a proclamation to explain these visions. (September 270)
Arragones Lies! – In response to Arragones’ proclamation an anonymous letter penned by someone claiming to have been on the expedition began to circulate widely. (October 270)
The Ulven Respond – A fact-finding mission was established the Ulven leadership to ascertain the truth of the claims from the Heart of the Dirge. Their findings would change the face of Colonist-Ulven Relations (April 271)

The Ancient Ulven – Some caches of information have been found relating to the histories of the ancient Ulven. Given that they are primarily an oral tradition these written records are incredibly rare.
The Ironmound Cache– The contents of this cache were unearthed after a large earthquake hit the Eastern reaches of Clan Ironmound. It’s contents were copied and distributed by Branthur Nightriver, Clanleader of Clan Nightriver in October of 269. It speaks of ancient raids by the lost Clan Stonetooth.

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The Reclament

Heraldry set on a shield shape. A knotwork willow sits over a blue stream
Design and Illustration by Josephine Magee

On Faedrun

The Reclament is a holy order of Syndar clerics devoted to finding and laying to rest fallen Syndar. They believe that the mana gifted to all Syndar at birth is a resource that if abused and neglected will wither and die. The act of finding and returning the magical essence of all Syndar helps keep this energy in the community and in the Syndar race. Traditionally, the Reclament would return the mana of a fallen Syndar directly to the Life Stream, but in recent times many  are more inclined to store the mana in mana stones. There is a debate within the order of the Reclament that doing so exacerbates the problem of the mana drought, but there is no evidence to support this theory. The Rites of Mana Reclamation are a closely guarded secret of the order.

The clerics of the Reclament typically dress in blue, which is almost universally accepted to be the “color” of mana for the sake of representation in art. Most clerics of the Reclament wear ornate leather or metal armor, to protect themselves as they go into dangerous locations to recover bodies. Their heraldry consists of running water and a willow sapling. The Reclament have a sort of diplomatic immunity, due to their sacred duties, and may not be denied entry into any Syndar territory, kingdom, Enclave, Commune, or even homestead, as long as they are performing their sacred duties. All Syndar are expected to offer hospitality to the Reclament regardless of nationality or bloodline.

Though their duties are most often administering final rituals to the fallen, the Reclament can also be called upon to carry out punishment by permanently reclaiming the essence of a living Syndar criminal, leaving the individual Hollowed, and forever stripped of mana.

Hollowed Syndar are typically shunned by the Syndar communities, and more often than not become wanderers. These Syndar find it nearly impossible to hide their true nature, and are generally easy to spot. The overall appearance of a Hollowed Syndar can be described as somber or even haunted. To be hollowed is considered a fate worse than death.

On Mardrun:

No Reclamant are known to have made the journey to Mardrun. Given the incredible loss of life during The Fall and the battles of the Undead Plague, they saw it as their duty to remain behind and see to the bodies of as many of their brethren

On Mardrun:

With the perseverance of Faedrun survivors and determined Mardrun initiates, the Reclament survives.

Officially recognized by Prince Aylin of New Aldoria in June of 274, the newly reformed order strives towards addressing the long neglected needs of syndar society on Mardrun, shepherding the mana of those who have passed to return to the Life Stream. Only time will tell if their efforts are enough to combat the ever worrying Siphoning.

The tenants they teach and follow are thus:

  • Mana is the life force that connects all syndar to each other and to magic. It is sacred and must be protected.

  • Each syndar is gifted with mana upon birth. It is our duty to nurture that gift so that it may one day be returned and given again.

  • To touch the mana stream is to honor our ancestors and a connection to those who we have lost and returned.

  • Mana is neutral: neither good nor evil.

  • It is our duty to reclaim mana from the idle and the wicked so as to protect others from harm.

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The Enlightened

The Enlightened is a scholarly order that researches arcane magic at its highest levels and overlooks the education of the Celestine Syndar. They are powerful mages who also keep track of the massive libraries created in reference to magic and the lore of the world. To become a member of the inner circle of the Enlightened is to learn the most carefully guarded secrets of the Syndar people, and the most powerful arcane magics. It is the highest scholarly order that an Arcanist can aspire to someday reach. Such knowledge comes at a price, however. In order to protect the greatest secrets of the Syndar people, and it’s most powerful spells, a spell caster must give up their entire identity and sever all ties with their Enclave, Commune, and even their family. They pick a new name, and the person that they once were ceases to be. They can never go back. Such is the price of knowledge.

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The Kingdom of Karindren

This ancient kingdom was possibly the first to ever take to the seas. Karindren is a small kingdom, but one of the oldest. It is also possibly the most strictly steeped in tradition. Karindren is something of an oddity as their history suggests that they were once the fastest growing and most advanced society on Faedrun, and yet they seem to have stopped advancing rather abruptly
some time ago. For several hundred years they have made no technological progression and, in fact, have outlawed many imports from more developed kingdoms. Their population hardly fluctuates either, as the women of this kingdom are only allowed to have up to two children in their lifetime. Karindren relies almost completely on the sea for food. Their ships are still built using the same simple tools and ancient techniques that have been passed down for over a thousand years. Every one of them is a true work of art, though they lack the speed and maneuverability of the newer, more advanced vessels coming out of the Human kingdom of Aldoria. As Sailors with proud maritime traditions, the people of this kingdom tend to favor Lunara, due to her influence over the waves and the tides. The kingdom of Karindren has long had strained relations with the kingdom of Fawyth.

New World:
The people of Karindren were late to get involved in the war with the Undead. By the time they found themselves under attack, the May’Kar dominion had already fallen, and the betrayal of the Penitent had swelled the ranks of the dark forces with powerful spell casters. As the Royal Marines of Karindren fought a desperate last stand on the streets of the capitol, the civilians tried to escape the ports in a massive fleet consisting of everything from fishing boats to warships. They almost made it. As the fleet left the harbor, a group of traitorous spell casters combined
their mana, and amplified the effects of a destructive spell. They magically summoned a storm that created a tsunami. This wave hit the harbor and flooded the streets and swept an entire culture into the sea, leaving nothing but ruins behind, and a single lighthouse. Of the hundreds of ships in the harbor, only two escaped the terrible storm. The ships sailed into Aldoria shortly thereafter, only to learn that the port there was also under siege by then. The Syndar of Karindren declined the invitation to sail East with the Aldorian ships to Mardrun, and instead sailed North into the cold and icy seas of the arctic circle. They were never heard from again. Some say that they sailed to a snowy continent, far to the North, that their people had colonized long ago and kept secret, but that is the stuff of rumors and speculation. It is not known if any survivors from Karindren made it to Mardrun.

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The Kingdom of Lairthuduil

Lairthuduil: Lairthuduil is the third largest Syndar Kingdom in terms of population, and second largest in terms of territory. The people of this kingdom are revered for their ability to grow and nurture plants and herbs. Even the roofs of their homes are used to grow plants. The terraced gardens and fantastic irrigation systems of Lairthuduil are a thing of wonder. Every possible space that can be used to grow vegetation is utilized. Clay planters are sculpted into walls, and pipes, chutes, and gutters crisscross overhead, entwined in beautiful ivies and vines. The walkways are made from clay and cobblestone, and lined with ornately sculpted terra-cotta figures and sculptures that also serve as planters. Beautiful flowers line every path, masterfully arranged by the most revered gardeners on Faedrun. Even the most humble farmstead in this kingdom is a functional work of art, and the pride of the commune that lives there. The chief exports of Lairthduil are, naturally, produce and medicinal herbs. The people are practical and down to earth. A life of honest, hard work in the fields has bred a strong and hardy people, almost all of whom, as farmers, favor Solar. They are not an aggressive people, but are capable of defending themselves if the need arises.
New World:
Lairthuduil was one of the first kingdoms of the Syndar to be overrun by the Undead. They held out for a while, but the relentless press of the undead armies eventually crushed all resistance and the fabled gardens of paradise burned. Many refugees from Lairthuduil fled with whatever they could quickly harvest and carry. Some joined up with the army of Tielorrien and fought to the death against the undead on the Old World. Others made it across to the new world on refugee ships, carrying with them the seeds of life on Faedrun. These scattered survivors wander the New World planting herbs, trees, and flowers from their homeland

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The Kingdom of Fawyth

The kingdom of Fawyth is the second largest of the Syndar Kingdoms, though it is still much smaller by far than Tielorrien. This kingdom maintains a strict isolationist stance regarding outsiders. It is a place of learning and science. It is also a place of closely guarded secrets. Any sort of complex mechanical devices found on Faedrun were likely either smuggled out of Fawyth, or bootlegged off of their designs. Their time-keeping pieces are especially prized across Faedrun, and to own one is to gain a certain amount of prestige. Thieves and Assassins highly prize traps and devices from Fawyth. There are merchants on Faedrun who would probably give up their first-born child for but an hour to roam the marketplaces of the capitol. The people of Fawyth are a stoic and quiet people. Even other Syndar are regarded with suspicion by the Syndar of Fawyth. The kingdom is nearly completely comprised of Serous Syndar. The kingdom of Fawyth is an architectural wonder, as much of its capitol is built into the side of a mountain, shaped from living rock by a combination of mechanical wonders and elemental arcane magic.

New World:
Due to this kingdom’s isolationist stance and mistrust of outsiders, they were among the first to fall to the undead. They did not participate in the grand alliance, and rarely participated in trade or commerce with outsiders. There are no known survivors of Fawyth on Mardrun. Their secrets were seemingly buried with them.