PLAYED BY: Kallie Bain
CHARACTER NAME: Maj Greytide
GENDER: Female
PREFFERED PRONOUN(S): She/her
CLASS: Warrior
AGE: 21
RACE: Ulven
HAIR: Auburn
EYES: Hazel
OCCUPATION: Soldier, part-time political liaison, Champion of Pack Greytide
KNOWN SKILLS: Armor, Dual wielding, Mend, Pull Arrow, Resource: Politics, Respite, Shield/Expert, Toughness, True Grit
BIRTHPLACE: An unnamed collection of run-down houses in Greytide territory
APPEARANCE: Tall, with long hair usually tied back, typically wearing at least a little armor, favoring monotone colors
RELATIONSHIPS: an aging mother she visits occasionally and sends some money to, distant cousin of Khulgar Greytide, a few tenuous connections with minor New Hope nobles
RUMORS: Maj Greytide is a spy, sent to keep watch on the human colonies.
She once led a charge into a mordok encampment and came out unscathed…
or perhaps got herself and everyone with her badly injured or killed.
She was a thief as a child, and still isn’t above using those skills when she’s around the wealthy and noble.
She is the only calm or reasonable Greytide.
BIO / BACKGROUND HISTORY:
As is often the case, it was a cloudy day which threatened rain when the mordok first came. Maj’s mother had called her inside to keep her dry and out of the coming storm so that her cold wouldn’t worsen, and the two were sitting beside the fire, wrapped in warm blankets, when the first scream echoed through the trees outside.
Mother’s head jerked up at the sound, her face a rigid mask of fear. At the second scream, she jumped to her feet with a speed and agility Maj had never imagined from her and, in a flash, had pulled down the old sword sitting on the mantel. Before Maj could do more than cry out in her thin child’s voice, “Mother, wait—” she was out the door and racing into the forest. Maj stared for a moment, open-mouthed, at the door now swinging in the rising wind. Then, pulling her blanket tighter around her and wiping her nose on a corner of it, she rose too and padded up to the doorway on bare feet to peek outside.
There was movement out in the trees, and more screams and yells. Maj heard her mother’s voice rise in a prolonged and incoherent shout, and the clash of metal on metal. The screams, at first rising familiar from throats Maj had known all her life, faded and changed to something more bestial as Maj tried to track the motions glimpsed through the trees and underbrush. She poked her head farther past the doorframe, squinting to see through the leaves.
Something humanoid came flying out of the trees toward the house. Maj jerked backward and slammed the door shut just before a heavy body struck it. Whatever it was bounced off, making the solid wood shudder, but did not strike again. Maj pressed her back into the door, holding it closed with her slight weight as she pulled the bar across and fit it into its holdings on either side of the frame. Panting from fear and the slight exertion, she listened to the now muffled sounds of her mother’s wails as the screams of pain all faded away. Finally, when it seemed all was quiet outside, Maj pulled back the bar and opened the door a crack.
Nothing moved in the trees, and neither did the black, leathery beast lying in a heap of rags on the front step. Maj opened the door a little farther until the bottom edge bumped into the corpse, then stepped out and over the mordok, shuffling toward the trees.
Everything seemed painted red as she stepped into the woods. Dark red splattered up tree trunks, coating bushes, running in little rivers over the ground. Maj’s feet were covered in red soon too, and her hands shook on the blanket gripped tight around her shoulders.
It took her only a minute of searching to find her mother. Mother knelt in the leaf mulch, head bowed against the first raindrops of the coming storm, surrounded by the three still, bloodied bodies of Maj’s sisters.
Maj and her mother moved around a lot after that day. Mother never seemed to be able to stay in one spot for longer than a few months before the memories of how things were started to creep back in. Maj found her crying most nights, and curled up beside her. Maj wouldn’t admit it to either Mother or herself, but she couldn’t sleep most nights either. The nightmares slunk in when darkness fell.
Mother couldn’t do very much during the daylight either right at first, so Maj asked shop keepers and soldiers for small jobs to gain a few coppers for food. Most brushed her off, but enough smiled down at the little girl, no more than nine years old, that Maj brought home something for dinner most nights. Some nights, though, there was no money and no food. Mother was even more distant on those nights, so very occasionally food would appear despite the lack of copper, just so Maj could see her return to something like her old self, who had sat and laughed by the fire with her before a coming storm.
Five years later, and Maj was a fulltime beggar and thief and a parttime apprentice to an old warrior who had taken a liking to the serious little child. Her time on the streets had taught her persuasion and theatrics, and toughened her to bullies who would take what wasn’t theirs. Her evenings spent with the soldier honed her sword skills and gave her someone to talk to more honestly. He listened well to her confessions about her mother and her nightmares, her worries, her hunger both physical and emotional, her desires to do something more in her life than beg on corners and her fears of what might happen to her should she leave this town where her mother seemed finally to have settled down. Sometimes, he even gave advice when she needed it. Mostly, though, he listened and let her work it out on her own. Without saying anything, he taught her to think before reacting and to work through a problem rather than simply hitting it with a sword, as so many Greytides tended to do.
Nothing good lasts forever though. As Clan Grimward made its final push into Nightriver territory, the old warrior was called to battle one last time. He bade farewell to the 15-year-old Maj and went east to join the final battle, to pass on to the Great Wolf where Maj couldn’t reach him.
Maj left the village soon after, angry and lost but determined to earn her way and rise among her clan. For two years she wandered, working as a sell sword when she could and an errand runner when nothing else appeared. She spent what she needed for equipment and food, and sent the rest back to her mother. Whenever she was in the area, she would visit Mother. Mother had come back to something like herself with Maj’s departure, shuffling around their little shack of a house to sweep when she started to sneeze from the dust, cooking the occasional meal, and waving to the neighbors as they passed. She had aged quickly, hair completely white already, puffing out like a cloud around her stooped shoulders. Maj always smiled around Mother, but it hurt to see her like this.
In the year 267, Maj answered the call to clear the mordok from the Great Wolf’s Hackles, traveling with another Grimward warrior to join the effort against the monsters who had slaughtered her sisters. She was determined this time to do more than hide. There, she proved herself in front of some who carried word of her bravery in the face of mortal enemies and mortal wounds, and of her continued aid of the injured even after her own near death. They spoke also of her ability to work alongside any who stood against the mordok, regardless of clan or race, though perhaps not of her willingness to do so.
She was declared Champion of Pack Greytide not long after for her deeds in the mountains, and Khulgar Grimward claimed her as a cousin. He granted her the title of Hersir to Clan Grimward, an honor she very nearly refused because of her lack of political experience. He insisted, though, perhaps seeing something in her that she herself had missed. She served her pack and clan both on the battlefield and on the political stage, crafting deals when not maneuvering warriors against the mordok.
In these positions, she grew and changed. She learned about the world and its people, their differing views and beliefs. It was a time she enjoyed, doing an invaluable service to her clan, yet she felt split down the middle throughout the whole thing. Politics or war? She struggled to choose between the two, to balance them in her life, but in the end the choice to give one up was taken from her.
Pack Greytide is a violent group, not prone to positive progress in politics. Maj was never popular or prominent in her home town, just a child in the background, occasionally accused of thievery. Her return the first year after she became Hersir got her a few dirty looks and some muttering. Some people congratulated her, a few were proud to have a Greytide in such a position. Most simply continued to pretend she didn’t exist. The second year, though, she had been out in the world of politics. She had been making changes, and trade agreements, and alliances with human factions. News had traveled.
Few people ignored her this time. Some stared at her with something like respect, but they didn’t speak up as the others murmured insults as she passed. Maj had been in town less than a day before she was confronted for the first time. It was a drunk elder, shouting at her, calling her a traitor and a sneak. Someone she could easily turn her back on and ignore. He yelled for a while as she walked away, but didn’t pursue her, and no one watching paid him much attention.
The next time, though, it was a warrior of merit who had come home from the Shield for a month to recover from his wounds. He did not shout, but calmly spoke the insults to her face, calling her honor into question. Baiting her until even Maj’s even temperament could not stand that look on his face.
The honor duel was long and hard-fought, the two combatants almost evenly matched. Maj was out of practice from her two years of politics, and the warrior was still stiff from healing muscles severed by a mordok blade. Still, both fought fairly and cleanly, and when Maj was at last beaten to the ground and stripped of her title, she acquiesced with grace and took her opponent’s offered hand to help her rise. As she was bested in an honor duel she was forced to give up her title as Champion.
She continues as a respected member of her pack, but can no longer claim the title of Hersir. Perhaps, some day in the future, she will strive for that position again. For now, the protection of Mardrun and Greytide will have to be enough.
common desire for an open and free society founded on the ideals of a republic. Though small and mainly backed by the capital provided by the prominent merchant, Marrah Faile, the plucky rag-tag group was able to secure lands in the province of Aylin’s Reach. Naming their central town Fristad, in honor of the land’s original Ulven owners and to celebrate their hopes for its future, the settlement busied itself with strengthening and growing their populace. A town council was eventually formed with elected leaders from each of the settlement’s core constituent groups.