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Played by:Tim Bollig
Name: Tobias Del’green
Gender: Male
Age: 22
Race: Ulven
Hair: Brown
Eyes: Green or Deep Brown (depending on mood)
Character Website: None
Occupation: Head Ranger
Known Skills: Dual wielder, alchemist, and lore seeker.
Birthplace: Unknown to him.
Appearance:
Notable Traits: Scar going down the left eye

My earliest memory is being carried out of a burnt village, covered in soot, by a man dressed in a green hood. I still to this day don’t know what happened or even if that was my home. To try and think that far back was painful and over time I learned to stop trying. That was 11 years ago and that man became my father. His name was Captain Ben Del’green of the Vandregon Rangers.

My father took me into a human settlement a few days’ ride from that place. The place had a weird smell to it and everyone was unhappy to see me. I didn’t know it at the time but there was a war going on between the humans and my people. It was because of that fact I was hated among them. The kids my age were especially hard on me, making daily life a pain. I had more than my fair share of fights with the kids there. Some they started and many more I started. I didn’t like the names they called me. “Fox eyes” and “dog boy” were the most common of the names they used to get a rise out of me. My father told me not to let it get to me, but I didn’t listen to him. Most of the fights I was out numbered and on more than one occasion I went home with a few bruises. One kid in particular made my life hell. He was the son of the mayor and a lot of the bigger kids listened to him. He would use the bigger kids to fight for him. My father told me not to do anything rash, and I had no real reason to fight them. He would always say, “Fight smart. Run fast.” I thought about what he told me and one day I found the mayor’s son on his own. I jumped him, beat him senseless, and ran before anyone saw me or knew what happened. After it was done I went home with the biggest of smiles on my face. My father asked me why I was more chipper than normal. I told him an easy lie, finished my chores, and got ready for dinner. About one hour after that there was a pounding at the door. My father answered the door and was punched in the face by a man. The unexpected blow knocked him to the ground. I jumped out of my chair, grabbed a knife, and faced the man at the door. It turned out that there was more than one: three in fact. They came into the house, two were guards, and the last one was the mayor himself. The mayor told my father what I had done. I looked down to where my father had fallen, but he had already gotten up. He looked over to me with a disappointed look on his face. The mayor told us we were no longer welcomed in the town and we had to leave that night. I had stayed in that town for little less than 4 months.

We loaded up the wagon with all we owned, hooked up the oxen and then we left. My father wouldn’t even look at me. The ride out of town was unbearable. My father was the first to break the silence. On the second day he asked me what was it that he told me before I left the house. At first I didn’t know what he meant, but it came to me. “Fight smart. Run fast.” I told him this, and he asked me if I did either of them. I told him yes. I was smart. I had found him alone, I beat him senseless, and had run off before anyone saw me. He waited a bit after that, sighed, and told me how I was wrong on all accounts. I didn’t fight smart because I didn’t think of what happens after. He was right: though I did find him alone and ran off before anyone saw me. He was the mayor’s son so I was going to get caught no matter if no one saw me. I had failed the first rule and it had cost us our home.

After that we found a plot of land in the woods to call our own. It was here that my training began. The training that made me the man I am today. First, though, I needed to prove myself.

We got kicked out of the village at a bad time, as winter was fast approaching and we needed to make shelter. We had four months to build a home. Four very hard months. We didn’t have the money to hire laborers so we did the work all by ourselves. We still had a strain on father son relationship and our talks amounted to “Hand me that tool”, “Give me a hand here”, and “Get up its time for work”. I was beginning to think he was regretting picking me up from the ashes of my village. In the first month we managed to get the foundation done and most of the walls up by the end of the second. By the end of the third month we had all but the roof done. It was in the last month that I had my first encounter with mordok.

It was almost my first and last. My father and I were still tense around each other so for the most part we kept distance from one another. On that day I was getting fire wood for the upcoming weather. He was putting the last of the nails in the roof as I was cutting up a log of oak into smaller peaces when I heard a snapping of a twig. It was the snap that saved my life. As I turned to see what made the sound my foot slipped and I fell just avoiding most of the sword swing. The sword cut down the left side of my head blinding that eye with blood. Through my right eye I saw two of them. Their skin was black as night. They had on bits of hide armor and thick cloaks. The one that had attacked me first was smaller than the other. I had heard tales of them; things like their spit is poisonous, they eat people, and the females have magic. I rolled over the log trying to see were my ax had gotten to. As I did the bigger one attacked me stabbing his sword at me. Thankfully he missed and got his sword stuck in the oak log I was cutting. I was just getting to my feet when the other threw out her hand and a gust of wind threw me fifteen feet away into a smaller tree. From the ground as I was caching my breath a breeze blew by. The cloak the smaller had on parted a little and show me a that this one was female not male. I tried again to get to my feet and she hit me with another gust of wind, throwing me hard against the small tree. It knocked all the air from my body. I truly believed my life to be over in that moment when I heard a cry of pain. As both the female mordok and I looked over, we saw my father. He had sneaked up on the mordok and with an ax cut it’s arm clean off. It was busy trying to get his sword out of the log and never saw my father coming. Before he could finish the wounded mordok the female took action, preparing to throw a gust of wind at him. Noticing the movements of her hands out of the corner of his eye, my father leapt away from his position, his foot clipped by the spell before he landed. His feet thrown wide by the force, he landed hard on his side, but was up again in an instant. He charged her. She then threw a blue orb of magic at him, caching him in the chest and stopping his charge. I tried to get up again to help my father but I was in a lot of pain from being slammed into that tree twice. My father got to his feet and ran again at her. She threw another blue orb at him, missing this time, and he swung his ax at her. I thought for sure that he hit her but the ax bounced back harmlessly. She then swung her sword at him just barely hitting him in the side. He swung his ax again only this time she blocked with her sword. That ax sadly was in bad shape from months of over work. It also wasn’t meant for battle so when the two meet the ax head broke off. She then pressed her attack forcing my father back as he blocked with ax shaft. As she forced him back he jumped to the side of her and rolled away from her. As he did this he threw two knives at her, hitting her leg and torso. He then ran for my ax. Before he got there the wounded mordok ran at him and tackled him to the ground. It was trying to bite him. My father was trying to throw him off when the female came up and stabbed the sword at my father. It cut deep into his upper arm. Things weren’t looking good for my father and I had no idea how he was going to get out of this. It was in that moment that with a yell of rage he threw off the mordok and stood up. I have never seen my father like this. He was always so relaxed so to see him fighting like this…..it scared me. My father then picked up the ax and attacked them with a vengeance. The wounded mordok never had a chance. It had already lost a lot of blood and no longer had a weapon, so he really couldn’t fight back. My father ended his life with two swings of the ax. He then tackled the female to the ground and before she could do much he brutally smashed her face in with the ax. When he was done he fell over and stopped moving. I forced myself to stand up and slowly made my way to him, fearing the worst. I rolled his body over and saw that he was still breathing but only just. I saw two deep cuts on his body. One was on his upper arm the other was on his leg. I ripped my shirt and used it as a bandage. After this was done I made the trip home half carrying half dragging my father.

When I got him home I put him on the bed and tried to heal him as best I could. My father woke up and told me to go to the chest in his room. Inside would be fae leaf. I went to the chest and found the leaf. It was small and golden in color. I brought it to him and asked him what to do next. He told me to chew it, put it on the wound, and put on new bandages. He gave out a sigh of pain when I put the herb in the wound on his leg. I then put the rest in the wound on his upper arm. I used up all of his fae leaf. He told me we were going to need more. I then ran into the woods and looked for more. It took me most of the night but I got what my father said would be 5 days’ worth. We needed more or a healer. The town we came from had some but we weren’t welcomed in. He told me that he had a friend who could help. I loaded him in the cart and made my way to town. Since it had no walls or a gate sneaking in was easy. No one looked at the cart twice. My father then told me where to go. I found the house and almost beat the door down pounding on it. As it was late at night when his friend answered the door he wasn’t happy. When he saw what was going on, however, his anger turned into worry. He started to cast spells on my father asking me what happened. I told him about the attack. He then got to the wound on my father’s arm. He and I gasped at what we saw: the arm was turning black. He quickly started to cast another spell, when the door busted open, and standing there was the last person I wanted to see. Blocking the firelight from the street was the mayor himself, and he wasn’t happy. He and the guards ordered the healer to stop. The healer started to ask that we be allowed to stay until he was done. The mayor said no and we needed to leave now. The healer then said he would go with us. The mayor said that if he did he wasn’t welcome back. The healer was about to say something, but before he could my father stood up and said, “Don’t bother. We’re leaving”. The healer tried to tell him no, but my father said this wasn’t his problem, and he left. My father was better but the poison was still in him and would kill him. The healer gave me a hug before I left saying stay strong. As he let go I felt something in my pocket. He then winked and we were shown out of the city by the guards. The mayor told us if we ever came back we would be killed. We left with out saying a word. On the way out I checked what he put in my pocket. It was a red potion. My father said it was a healing potion. I asked if it would heal him. He said no but he had another idea for it. When we got home he put a sword in the fire, picked up a stick, and told me to cut his arm off. I couldn’t believe what he was asking me. He told me it was the only way, put the stick in his mouth, and bit down hard. I then picked up the now red hot blade, lined up the blow, and with a deep breath I brought it down with all my strength. In that one blow I cut the arm clean off. My father then removed the stick from his mouth and drank the potion. The blood flow stopped. He the went to the house and fell onto the bed. I went to him and saw that he was asleep. I had many questions to ask him like where the hell he learned to fight like that, but I let him sleep. Two days later he woke up and I asked him all the questions that I had.

He told me about where he was from. About the Rangers, Vandregon, and the undead threat. It was the undead that had forced the humans and the Syndar from their homes. As I listened to him I had trouble believing him. The dead rising from the grave and killing everything. Where it not for the look of horror in his eyes as he told me of them I would have thought he was pulling my leg. He then told me the first rule of the rangers, fight smart run fast. I asked him how many there were. He told me there were five:

1. Fight smart run fast
2. Always have a plan
3. No plan survives contact with the enemy
4. Leave no ranger behind, and
5. …..he told me he would tell me five latter.

I then spent the next ten years learning all he had for me to learn. Every day was a day of training whether it was training with the sword, first aid, potions, or reading up on lore my days where long and hard. As my twentieth year came my father grew ill. His strength was fading, he had trouble breathing, and his heart hurt. He was never the same after the mordok attack. If only the healer was able finish healing him he might have have years ahead of him, but the poison robbed him of his strength and made his heart weak. He was on he death bed and there was nothing I could do for him. He asked me to not to train that day and just sit with him. As I sat next to his bed, in between coughs of blood he told me of how proud of me he was. I wanted to tell him to stay here with me but we both knew his time was at an end. He asked me to come closer so he could tell me the last rule. I got in close and with the last of his breath he whispered the last rule to me. He then died with a smile on his face. It’s that smile that I’ll never forget no matter how much time passes.

I burnt his body and buried his ashes. I did this to to mix our two cultures. I went to the chest in the house where he kept his belongings. Inside the chest was a green tunic, two short swords, and leather breastplate. All were from his home back when he was a ranger. I put the ranger garb on and walked back to the what remand of the fire. It was dying out and the wind was blowing the ashes high into the sky. It brought back my first memory of him taking me out of the ashes of my village. As his ashes fell up into the sky I walked away knowing that I needed to bring back the Rangers and one day see his home freed of the undead. In this way I would honor him. I have a long way to go but I know my path.

Played by: Allen Zautke
Name: Rogar ShadowFang
Race: Ulven
Occupation: hunter, warrior
Birthplace: ShadowFang village. Raised in pack graytide village
Appearance: black hood over chain mail, Vandregon colors
Notable Traits: missing right eye, covers it with black cloth
Relationships: William Aurgrim: commanding officer.
Rumors: “He was once Graytide. How can he be trusted?”-over heard around the fire.

Bio:
My name is Rogar ShodowFang, former member of pack graytide, now a soldier of the vandregon army.
How is it that a former pack member of graytide could find himself fighting in a human army. First I never truly held any strong ties to pack graytide. I am a ShodowFang and my loyalty is to my birth pack.
Pack Shadowfang was a strong pack known for its skills in tracking and their knowledge of stealth. Though we didn’t have the mightiest warriors, a trained ShadowFang warrior could almost disappear in to any environment and attack his enemy’s weakness with deadly precision . A true Shadowfang warrior would pride himself on his ability to defeat an enemy before his enemy knew he was there. Killing was not our only skill, as we had many fine craftsmen and our hunters and farmers kept us fed. We thrived in the land Gaia had given us, and I was born into this life.

It seems though that this prosperity was not meant to last. Our elders tell of a time when the mordok gathered in numbers we had never seen. This raid cut a path of destruction across the our land. The ulven packs banded together and brought down this threat. But the damage had already been done. Pack ShadowFang village was caught in the path of that horde. And over night more then half of our pack was slaughtered. With our numbers decimated and little hope of rebuilding, our nearest neighbors pack graytide took us in. In the graytide village our elders tried to keep what was left of our pack together and to hold on to our culture and way of life.

Like many others of my pack my parents were killed trying to defend our home. Growing up an orphan in the graytide village, my life was not easy. Though we were taken in by our graytide brethren we were never truly accepted and were seen as not much more then squatters. The graytide warriors saw our way of combat as cowardly and backhanded . They said if we were strong warriors, we wouldn’t need to “sneak” about. I was raised mostly by the elders of my pack. I learned all I could of our old ways and in time I grew to be a strong and skilled warrior.
Then came the day I will never forget. The day that started me down the path I am on to this day.

I was asked to join a hunting party and tasked with tracking some mordok near the boarder of graytide land. While on the trail of the mordok we came across a human caravan. The hunt leader, a vile ulven known as Davor, ordered an attack on the humans. I protested saying this was not our mission and the humans were no danger. Davor insisted in the attack telling the other hunters that the humans were trespassing on graytide land and the intruders had to be made an example of to the others. I did what I could to talk Davor and the others out of the attack but the bloodlust and hatred of the humans in graytide eyes was hard to over come. Davor ordered me to attack or I would be treated no differently then the enemy. He then ordered us to fan out and move in to striking range. I know I had to stop this I would not stand ideally by as innocent lives were in danger.

As we got into position I snuck ahead of the others and made my way towered the caravan. I was with in a stones throw away when I sprang my attack not on the humans but on my graytide brothers. I broke cover and shouted to the humans in the caravan that they were under attack and to flee. I then turned my attention to the graytides now charging towards me. I had to slow them down or they would over run me and I had to give the humans time to escape. I didn’t have a bow but I did have my daggers and I threw one at the nearest graytide hitting him in the shoulder. As he staggered from the hit he tripped and fell in the underbrush. As another charged me I sunk a dagger into his thigh. As he fell to the ground I had just enough time to parry a sword attack from my left. It was Davor and as he advanced for another attack he yelled, ”you’ll pay for your betrayal Rogar!”
“And you will pay for your bloodlust, you and all the rest of clan Grimward. Your hatred will only bring suffering to the Ulven nation.”
“You are no longer part of that nation. You dare strike your fellow ulven brothers to protect those filthy outsiders?” As Davor spoke two more ulven joined the fight and surrounded me.
“I will not let innocent lives suffer for your pleasure Davor.”
“Now it is you Rogar that will suffer. Get him!” Davor and the other two graytide rushed me. I did what I could fighting three on one but they eventually overpowered and disarmed me. The last thing I remember from the fight was sharp pain and everything going black.

When I awoke I found my hands bond and two graytide were dragging me to my feet. They toke me over to where Davor was standing and threw me at his feet.
“Its time for you to pay for your betrayal.”
“Do your worst Davor. You will get no pleasure from me.” Davor was known to make his victims suffer before death. And I would not give him the satisfaction of knowing my pain. My former graytide brothers took their turns with fist and boot but I would not cry out. Then Davor took matters in is own hands, he grabbed a dagger and drove it into my leg. As he twisted it in my flesh he carefully studied my face. As I grimaced from the pain he spoke.

“Your stronger then you look Rogar.”
“If your going to kill me get it over with. I tire of your games.”
“A worthless traitor like yourself does not deserve a death from a true warrior. No I will leave you here broken, and let the scavengers pick at your bones.”
Davor yanked the dagger from my leg and called over two of the other graytide who restrained me.
“But first I think we should carry out an old traditions, an eye for an eye.” with that Davor set to work carving out my right eye, infecting the most amount of pain he could. Though I had taking their punishment so far the pain of the endeavor was too much for me to bear and before I passed out from my torment I’m sure that even the Great wolf heard my screams that night.

When I came to night had fallen and dark clouds fill the sky. Davor and the other graytide were gone. They had taken my weapons and equipment but had failed to find the blade hidden in my boot. I was weak from blood lose but I found the strength to free myself from my bonds. I then set to work assessing and bandaging my wounds. My right eye was gone cut completely from my skull, and the wound in my leg was very deep. With what cloth I could spare from my clothes I did my best to treat my injures. I had to get out of this area case some scavengers actually did find me, I was tracking Mordoks after all and I would not be able to fend off an attack in my state. But I was tired and my senses were dulled and soon became disoriented. I blindly stumbled though the night, I didn’t know which way was which or in what direction I should be traveling.

If my ancestors could see my now, a shadowfang lost in the wood. I thought as I leaned on a tree to collect my self. I hadn’t been walking long and all ready I was exhausted , I could feel the strength in my body leaving me. A sense of dread crept up my spine, could this be my end?

“NO! You will not give up here! You can’t let those graytide get away with this.” I told myself and was right I had to survive. I gathered what strength I had and soldered on. But as a toke my first step I found no strength in my body and fell to the ground. I tried to get to my feet but my body, my muscles would not listen to me and I collapsed on to my back. As I gazed up at the gray sky my vision darkened as my eye slowly closed.

I suddenly felt a presents and a cool breeze on my face that shock me back to reality. As my eye opened I could see the clouds in the sky part and the sky filled with stars and the brightest moon I’ve ever seen to this day shone down on me.
“Luna.” I said out loud. My people had always revered the moon. And now as her gaze fell upon me I felt a surge of strength pulling me to my feet. With the light of Luna guiding me and the stars to follow I managed to regained my bearing and started heading south out of graytide lands. I came across a small stream, there I drank and washed the blood from my face. I then cleaned and redressed my wounds. I followed an old game trail for a time that lead me to a path traders and travelers must have used. I made my way down this path, it was well worn and easy to follow. As I came over a ridged over looking a small valley, I noticed the smoke of a settlement just over the horizon. But I was weary from travel I needed to rest and regain my strength I would make for the settlement tomorrow. I fond a comfy spot next to a large tree where the underbrush covered my presents from anyone walking down the trail. Before I closed my eye and drifted to sleep a said a small prayer to Luna and swore a vow that as long as I had strength in my body I would protect the people of this land from anyone who would bring them harm.

When I awoke the next day the sun was already high in the sky. I gathered my self and made my way to the settlement I’d seen the night before. I left the trail and toke a more direct route. As I got with in eye sight of the settlement, it looked to be a human trade out post. I also came across sets of tracks I knew far too well, there were graytide in the area. I quickened my pace toward the settlement if the graytide were this close they must be planning an attack. As I entered the building I warned the people inside of the graytide in the area. Most of the people went out to meet them two stayed behind and treated my wounds. After the battle many of the fighters came back injured a couple of them severe. I knew we wouldn’t be able to survive another attack and told the others to gather any supplies they could carry and leave the area. Before we could get organized the graytide burst in the back door and set fire to the building. I grabbed the nearest weapons and tried to give people time to get out. Out side on the trails they pursued us and once again I found myself fighting my former graytide brothers for the sake of strangers. Eventually our enemy broke off their pursuit and we were able to catch our breath.

The survivors and myself made our way towards Nightriver territory. It was this time that I first meet Venator, one of the ulven from the settlement. He complemented me on my fighting skill and my willingness to protect the weak. He then told me of vandregon and asked me to travel with him to Newhope where I could meet a man named William and join the cause.
I now fight for something greater then myself. I will fulfill my sworn vow and protect the people of this land from all treats to them.

Name: Bryech Savagefang
Played By: Cole Potter
Age: 18
Race: Ulven
Class: Fighter
Bryech SavageFang, A normal Ulven child raised in pack Graytide he lived with his mother and father in a small village, where Bryech had taken to combat quite quickly and was quite skilled in the art of killing. His father had given him basic fighting training and hand to hand combat. His father Davrik SavageFang was defeated in a first-blood Honor Duel. He wasn’t the same afterward, he grew depressed and didn’t talk to anyone but Bryech’s mother and Bryech. Until five months later he was spouting out about the solution to his dishonorment. he disappeared the day after with a message on the table saying he would fix everything and would be back within the month.
Three months later and still nothing, his family was now truly dishonored he was told constantly my father was a coward, and that the Great Wolf will spit upon his name. Bryech knew something was wrong, his father is a capable warrior and he would not just abandon his family. So he ran away and went to look for my father. he survived for a year on his own, but just barely. That year helped him hone his skills, taught him how to be silent and patient, to learn his enemies habits to use his surroundings to his advantage, to not fear death or pain how to track and observe.
It also taught him to enjoy the finer things like books and texts from the ancients and our ancestors who lived here long before us. Most people find it hard to believe that Bryech can read sometimes he does too. He taught himself mostly after some teaching from his mother before he left. However his year in the wilds of Mardrun had taken a toll on Bryech, he was near savage by the time he met Victor. He took Bryech into the BloodFangs and put him into their ranks and had him trained officially by Krieger where he was put through training and has since then been his main objective, Bryech still believes that his father is alive and he hopes to find him one day but until then he lays low. He can’t let anyone know of his true origins.

He has no quarrel with the Humans, and Syndar however he still doesn’t trust them due to the fact that the early conflicts between the races were very bloody. He generally doesn’t trust anyone but that’s not the point. the Humans and Syndar are the cause for this war a war one the likes of has never happened before, he still does not feel the need for them to return to their homeland. But if an individual from either group can prove themselves to Bryech he will have no problems with them. Bryech quite thoroughly enjoys what he does being a warrior of the Bloodfangs is honorable and very deadly. His life is almost a perfect picture where it not for his tragic history. That doesn’t generally get in the way with his life so he ignores it as much as possible. However due to his past experiences with Clan Grimward he has a growing hate for them and generally doesn’t mind meddling in their affairs.

After separating from The Bloodfangs, Bryech joined Pack Longfang and quickly earned his place amongst their legendary warriors. Making a name for himself in his new Pack by being heavily involved in the day to day life of the Pack and several of the expeditions into the Dirge Swamp. Not even a year after joining Pack Longfang, Bryech deployed with their warriors to the Stormjarl Territories where he fought with his fellow Longfangs against the Grimward assault, the story being well known amongst both sides of the Ulven Civil War. The Warriors of Longfang were decimated, leaving only three survivors: Bryech Savagefang, Orrin Kair and Azra Steelfang. Though Azra became very inactive after the battle, Bryech and Orrin continued to be leaders amongst their peers and continued the fight after The Battle of Black Wolf Creek. Participating in one of several raids against Clan Whiteoak, though victory was hard won, it brought them glory nonetheless. After Stanrick Longfang was chosen as the first Chieftain of Pack Longfang, Bryech began to feel very alienated by the very people he had considered family and after the death of his close friend Orrin Kair at the final battle of the Watchwolves, he began to consider if his fate lies elsewhere. He was pushed to leave Pack Longfang after being transported deep into the Dirge Swamp after coming into contact with the Artifact left by former Runeseer Solveig Longfang. Bryech was then captured by the Mordok and held prisoner for months. In his eyes he had been abandoned by his Pack after resisting Stanrick’s rise to power. Bryech thought that because he was viewed as a threat they had left him to die. Bryech was later found and rescued after escaping and finding another expedition into the Dirge, ironically with members of Pack Longfang attending. After a harrowing series of engagements and many close calls, Bryech was taken to safety by his friends Thrand and Fritha Stormjarl, as well as Reyna Longfang; a staunch ally of the young warrior– if a bit fearful of his temper and fighting skill. After recovering from his wounds Bryech made his intention to leave Longfang clear to Reyna and again separated from his Pack.
Shortly after leaving Longfang, Bryech traveled to Clan Ironmound territory and fought in several smaller battles against Grimward there. He became close friends with another warrior named Calder and saved his life in battle. Bryech lived with Calder and his family on the outskirts of the village of Freyby. Soon becoming romantically involved with Calder’s sister Ingrid and becoming like a son to his parents Bjarke and Gunhild. It seemed as though Bryech’s story was over and he would settle down and live a normal life. But his anger had grown from that of a young boy who sought revenge and couldn’t control his emotions to the more mature true fury of a veteran warrior. Though he was young, even by Ulven standards, to have been so scarred by battle, it forced him to carry himself differently and he gave up his new seemingly perfect life to return to the fight he knew carried on. Rejoining Pack Longfang once again after the announced death of Stanrick Longfang and a brief attempt at helping to quell the rise of Holmar Bloodmoon and finding his efforts unnecessary and wasted, Bryech quickly reminded those who doubted him why he was worthy of a second chance. Rising to the position of Weaponsmaster even though not fully granted the position before performing the duties and assisting Longfang as staunchly as before he parted ways with them. Distinguishing Longfang in several fights against the Mordok including the evacuation of Clan Riverhead where he lead the Warriors of Pack Longfang in a resounding victory against the Mordok alongside his close friends and allies. Also, the recent and much discussed Great Wolf’s Hunt– leading a small contingent of Longfang warriors who were vital to the success of two War Packs and the defeat of two large forces of Mordok, before pulling back with some of the more seriously injured after sustaining serious injuries himself, leaving several brave volunteers to continue the fight and earning several more victories for their own glory and the glory of Pack Longfang. Only a short month later he was fully granted the title of Weaponsmaster and leads his warriors taking every opportunity to fight alongside them and lead from the front.
Though he has experienced much in the last five years of his life, Bryech Savagefang’s journey for honor and fame is far from over.

UPDATE DECEMBER 268
After a short time as Pack Longfangs Weaponsmaster Bryech was faced with a choice. His close friends Fritha and Thrand Stormjarl asked him to join them on a raid and join them in their fight against Grimward to avenge the honor of Stormjarl and to free their people. Bryech did not hesitate and joined his friends on their journey to heal all of their wounded honor together once again leaving Longfang. After months of preparation the raid began, after a fierce series of battles Stormjarl was victorious and their mission a success. This was only the first step in a larger effort but a momentous one nonetheless. Bryech was named a brother of Stormjarl and from that day forward he worked tirelessly with them to mend their honor and free their people, swearing to serve the newly appointed Jarl Fritha and helping to fortify the northern border of Stormjarl and standing by his friends again at a tense political meeting with Khulgar Graytide Warleader of Clan Grimward, and again standing with Stormjarl at the meeting where the peace between Grimward and Stormjarl was made. While there he swore an oath alongside his Jarl to help create an alliance between Clan Squallborn and Clan Stormjarl. In fulfilling his oath Bryech fought alongside Stormjarl and Squallborn in the ancient Ulven rite of the Aettinjav, participating in a highly ritualized duel to the death, The Maw of the Wolf. This was a challenge that was met with resistance from a local Truthseeker apprentice but, after volunteering and being chosen as the champion of Squallborn and Stormjarl Bryech fought and won this duel earning honor and glory for Stormjarl and himself. Shortly after this he was made a Hersir of Clan Stormjarl and his journey for glory and reputation continues.

Played by: Jacob Beardsley
Name: Luka
Gender: Male
Age: 20
Race: Ulven
Hair: Brown
Eyes: Blue
Occupation: Servant
Birthplace: Unsure
Appearance: Wears red and grey coat
Notable Traits: Submissive and overly polite

Luka was born as a member of Clan Grimward, but he doesn’t remember where his place of birth is. At age 6, Luka was captured and raised as a servant by humans, little more than a slave. This was in a time of turmoil between the humans and the Ulven so it wasn’t uncommon for villages to be sacked and people to go missing. From there Luka was stripped of his birth name and given the name he now uses. This was to demoralize and emotionally break those who were captured. Then the beating began. Luka was beaten and forced to become compliant and obedient. Luka was then kept in a human camp as a worker and servant. This only lasted a couple years before he was moved, then moved again, and again, and again from camp to camp as more humans arrived. Once they became more established, it was decided that to keep Luka around without some pretext would be suspicious to the higher human authorities in the area. Therefore, Luka was wrongly charged with attempting to steal a valuable sword from a human officer. He was then offered a choice: death, or to continue his servitude. Luka chose the latter. Fourteen years passed since his initial capture, and life got pretty good. Luka accepted life and learned to enjoy his situation. A month ago Luka was traveling with his latest master, a small time merchant. They were suddenly jumped by bandits and his master was hurt. But out of nowhere a man showed up and rescued them from the bandits. He wore red and black and called himself Eli. Not having much to pay the rescuer, the merchant offered Luka’s services as payment and the deal was struck. Shortly after that, Eli explained that he had no wish to oppress a person in the way that Luka had been, and he freed Luka from his service. This confused Luka, as he could not comprehend a free lifestyle, and he insisted that he would stay with Eli and work for him. After a long debate, a deal was made between the two. In exchange for loyalty and service to Eli’s faction, the Crimson Shades, Luka would receive room and board. This pleased Luka and in no time he settled right back into his common role as a servant. But this time, it was different. These people didn’t see him as a mongrel criminal, but rather an actual person. He took an exceptional liking to Eli and tends to still refer to him as “Master”, much to Eli’s discontent. Luka now also cares for the needs of the rest of the faction referring to most of them as “sir” or “madam”. This is now his life and he couldn’t be happier.

Played by: Jacob Beardsley
Name: Jarta Longfang
Gender: Male
Age: 25
Race: Ulven
Hair: Brown
Eyes: Blue
Occupation: Healer

“Dear journal, I have recently become the healer at the Outpost. I have taken over for Thrand since he left. It’s been rough but nothing I can’t handle. I’ve come to know the people here quite well. Stanrick, our chieftain, isn’t as cold and ruthless as the stories led me to believe. He is loud, though. There are others here, mostly Ulven but we also get humans and Syndar. They are all right, but some don’t respect our way of doing things. I myself find it annoying and disrespectful, but fighting amongst ourselves is what started this stupid war. Living at the outpost isn’t too terribly bad, but as a healer I’m always busy due to the swamp. Well that’s all I have time to say for now.”

Jarta Longfang was born in the Longfang village. He wasn’t particularly big for his age and wasn’t good at fighting. He preferred to play games and was very interested in learning rather than training. He always had a desire to help the sick and wounded, which led to him spending most of his time around the healer tents and huts assisting whenever he could. This was where he picked up the healer trade and became an assistant to one of the village healers.

Several years past and he eventually became a fully practicing healer. His ability to use a bow made him perfect for traveling with hunting parties. He actually enjoyed that because he felt he was doing a lot of good by helping gather food for the village.

One year ago he was assisting a hunting party when they stumbled upon a mordok camp. Before long the mordok swarmed like bees around the party. It was all the hunters could do to fend off the attackers. Jarta quickly started tending to the wounded. Suddenly a shaman jumped out from the trees and blasted Jarta with a wave of power. The able bodied hunters were too busy to notice the new threat. The shaman stepped over one of the wounded hunters and started casting again. Jarta knew it was going to be a bad spell just by seeing the amount of energy the shaman was gathering. As the shaman let the spell loose, an orb of black energy shot from the shaman’s hand. Jarta leaped hoping to intercept the oncoming attack. He made it. The orb struck Jarta in his left shoulder blade, blowing apart most of what attached his arm to his body. He instantly passed out from the shock.

He awoke to find a bunch of healers and a daughter standing over him. He was back in the village and was told that he was carried back by the surviving hunters. The daughter also told him that his left arm would never work well again due to the extensive damage.

This didn’t sway Jarta from his passion of helping those in need. He has since devoted his free time to learning all he can to further improve his healing. He has even picked up the ability to read and write. But on the off chance he isn’t tending to the wounded or studying he can be found singing and/or playing a few odd instruments to calm his nerves.

Played by: Julian Boehm
Name: Nikoli Bellfire
Gender: Male
Age: 21
Race: Ulven
Hair: Brown
Eyes: Brown
Occupation: Guard
Known Skills: Duel Wield
Birthplace: A small village in Stormjarl, near the Grimward border.
Appearance: strong appearance stubborn
Notable Traits: Unusual, looking for a fight, will run into battle to protect the innocent, easy to talk to, easy going

Bio: My past is the same as most ulven you might come across. I lived in a small village on the border with clan Grimward.
I trained just as hard as the others but we were blessed by Gaia with peace and less mordok than other clans had to deal with.
But it all changed the day Grimward invaded, our clan leader had chosen neutrality in the war, but to clan Grimward we were as good as enemies. They invaded, attacked, and killed our people. They pushed us all the way to the sea. That was the day that really defined me, the day my father left us to join the great wolf. My family had reached one of the last villages left standing. Refuges had poured in from the rest of our lands. Grimward was on the warpath; my dad and I were keeping my brother safe; my mother was a strong warrior. She was in the rear with a few other warriors keeping us safe in case of ambush.

My father said it would be a few hours until we reached the village. I was scared that we wouldn’t make it. Grimward had been fallowing us closely and my mother said that her and the warriors had only barely been able to repel the last attack. I remember what happened next the best, we had just passed a burned down farm and the screams started. They must have sent a group to cut us off in the front because ten Grimward warriors charged out of the woods and began to attack us. I pressed forward to engage an enemy in front of me. He swung his ax at me and I blocked it with my sword, we exchanged blows for a few moments then my father joined me by my side and together we felled the warrior. Our group started running for our lives. My father and I took my brother and started to run. We could hear people screaming around us, and the sounds of fighting all over, but we kept running until our legs could take us no farther. We found a good hiding place for the night. My brother cried until he fell asleep and my father and I took shifts staying up to keep watch. We all wondered about my mother and how she was doing. I woke to movement, there were voices coming closer, my father told us to stay calm we watched from our hiding hole.

Two warriors from Grimward where searching for survivors. They passed by without finding us and we stayed hidden for a while, but soon we started to move onto the village. Hopefully mother would be there. We walked for a bit once we found the road, we knew that the village would be just a little further and we would be safe. We started to see the smoke from the town just a little bit ahead and our hopes started to rise but soon fell just as quickly.

They had come out of nowhere: three arrows flew through the sky. They each hit their target and my father fell before my eyes in an instant. I was unable to help or even move; I just watched him hit the ground and then they moved on us, four warriors: three archers and one larger ulven with a two handed ax, he struck me before I could move, the pain was more then I could take. I fell to the ground and he moved toward my brother. I tried to stop him and he kicked me in the chest. From my back I saw in horror my little brother try to plea for his life. He brought his ax up to finish my brother and started to bring it down. The world froze, time stopped, I was losing my family right before my eyes. Apparently my mother thought so to because she came in hot, she blocked the ax with her spear and drove a dagger through his chest.

He staggered back in pain, she swung her spear around and left a gash on his chest and then plunged it into his left leg and he fell. Two of the archers let loose some arrows in her direction, but my mother was warrior through and through. She dodged, leaving the spear in the Grimward warrior’s leg, she moved on to the three left and she summoned a ball of Gaia’s wrath and threw it into the chest of one of the archers, he fell instantly and the others to began to flee having seen how quickly she had dismantled two of them. She turned to us, and after that it all starts to blur together, burning my dad’s body, my mother healing us, and getting to the village. I swore to myself that day that never again would I lose any of my family to anything. I would gather the strength I needed to stand at the front and protect my family. I don’t know why but my mother put us on a ship to Crows landing. When we got to the harbor there was a man waiting at the dock, he had a green hood and he welcomed us as we got off the ship. He talked to my mother in private, and she told us that the man knew our dad and that he had given us a place to stay in town. Many of the houses were empty, since the winter was bad, and many here didn’t make it. We were thankful for the help and given a place to stay, I thanked the man. He said it’s what we do, to help those in need. I soon joined up with the rangers. I found out the man that helped us was high up in the group, and one day I wanted to be as respected and skilled as he was.

Relationships: rangers my mother and brother

Player: Jeff Mork

Character: Fiendskap Darkcackle

Race: Ulven

Gender: Male

Born: Fiendskap Darkcackle of Pack Darkcackle of Clan Stormjarl

Birth Year: 231

Age: 32

Class: Rogue

Notable Traits:

Xenophobic. “They’re animals you know, they don’t have souls…”: Fiendskap is able to work with other races, but does not like it. He recognizes that the other races are intelligent, but does not see them as sentient beings. To him, their value is only in the services they can provide. His view is that the Ulven are the only race worthy of partaking in the afterlife. He would think no more of killing a Human or Syndar traveling companion that has proved itself untrustworthy, then of putting down a lamed barn cat. Probably less, he may have liked the cat.

Extremely hesitant to kill Ulven: Fiendskap is highly focused on the afterlife, and how his actions will affect his name. While he feels no hesitation at killing “animals”, like the Humans, Syndar, Mordok, or Undead, he feels that wrongly taking the life of an Ulven is a crime he would be committing against his very soul.

If you want to understand Fiendskap Darkcackle and aren’t willing to ask him yourself, your best bet is to ask his Uncle and former Chieftain, Agnor Darkcackle of Clan Stormjarl. Agnor will tell you all about Fiendskap. He will tell you that Fiendskap was born in the eastern forests of Clan Stormjarl’s territory, just like all of the other Darkcackle. That he grew up on his family’s farm, just like all of the other Darkcackle. That as a boy he learned to laugh instead of cry when he was hurt in addition to when he was amused, until he could not tell the difference, just like all of the other Darkcackle. That he learned his father’s trade (carpentry in Fiendskap’s case) and how to hunt and farm, just like all of the other Darkcackle. He will tell you how Fiendskap is just like all of the other Darkcackle until you give up in disgust, or get angry enough to draw your sword. Then (if Agnor doesn’t think he can take you), and only then, will he tell you something different.

Agnor will tell you that the Mordok attack that took Fiendskap’s family was unexpected. Pack Darkcackle is located in the eastern part of Clan Stormjarl lands (currently under Grimward occupation) in the great forest just north of the Yurnai River’s delta. They are almost as far as you can get from the Dirge Swamp, even further southwest than Clan Grimward (who provide a ferocious shield). Members of Pack Darkcackle are content to live their lives away from outsiders, far away from any settlement worthy of the name. They don’t even carry weapons except for hunting or practice. Perhaps that was why the Mordok found them. Perhaps they stumbled upon Fiendskap’s home while seeking invisibility in the forest that provided Pack Darkcackle its seclusion. Perhaps they were foraging for food on their long trek south to “softer” targets. Perhaps the Mordok were lost. In the end, it didn’t really matter why. After the attack, Fiendskap asked if he could travel north to help Pack Longfang near the Dirge Swamp, Agnor agreed. What more could you possibly want to know?

What Agnor won’t tell you about, regardless of how hard you press him; is the laughter.

It was the laughter that first caused Agnor to turn down the path towards Fiendskap’s farm. Although he now turns from the sound of laughter in the day, he turns towards it every night in his dreams. After all, it’s uncommon to hear such sustained laughter from a solitary adult. He walks quickly, looking ahead for signs of danger, until he spies it hidden in the ferns off to the side of the path. Agnor was so perplexed by the suffocating stench of rotting meat that he had failed to recognize the scent of Mordok. The foul odor is forcing itself down his throat now though. He notices the boot, pierced through the sole by the primary punji sticks now erupting cleanly through the top, held in place by the secondary sticks the Mordok didn’t even realize till it tried to remove its mangled foot. Agnor could read the ground as well as his own lore book. The uneven scores in the blood drenched ground told of the frantic slashing with sword till the leg was free of foot. The bent and crushed grass in multiple directions, of the crawl to escape. The thicker blood and matted grass, of where the creature stopped and expired. The grass evenly smothered, as with the drag trail of game. Unwillingly, he grabs a fallen branch and starts to run, his muscles already knotting in anticipation of what his mind cannot yet remember. He burst into the clearing as the laughter suddenly ends.

In it he finds a scene that he still actively denies.

Fiendskap is sitting on a stump near the fire. He turns quickly as he starts at Agnor’s arrival, dropping his food and fluidly nocking an arrow. Fiendskap is only half a heartbeat from loosing the arrow as he recognizes his Chieftain, and freezes for entirely too long before releasing the tension. It’s at this point when Agnor usually becomes aware of his dreaming, but that only makes it worse as he continues to watch without his consent. His mind free to languish in the details he missed the first time around.

His focus widens from the tip of the gleaming broadhead to take in the sights of the yard. The two dark hides, scraped and stretched in their frames. The neatly stacked pile of meat festering in the sun. The discarded, toothless, tongueless severed heads near it. There was an even smaller scattering of Mordok fangs that might have made the rune for forgiveness. At least they might have before the majority of them were savagely kicked into the not so small fire. A fire that Agnor now recognized as the remnants of a funeral pyre.

“They’re animals you know, they don’t have a soul…” was the first thing Fiendskap said while seeming to look directly through Agnor’s. “I know the Daughters will say the Mordok I have killed will tell the Great Wolf my name, but they are wrong. Dead wrong. These ones certainly won’t, I made sure of it.”

“When I came back from the hunt I found them. They were eating my family. People don’t do that, people have souls. They may think, they may be intelligent, but the Mordok are NOT people… People have souls.” Followed by a sudden giggle.

“You know, my Father always told me that I would never need to train for war. That a Mordok, a Syndar, or a Man. They would all die the same as an animal… That I should focus on hunting. That I should kill two birds with one stone. He was wrong…

A Mordok doesn’t die the same as an animal. I can’t honestly say about a Syndar or a Man, but I suspect they are the same.”

“When you shoot an animal, if you don’t kill it outright that is; it will keep running. Even if it’s dead on its feet, it will run until it dies standing and falls to the ground. Not a Mordok. A Mordok knows when it’s beaten. All you have to do is give it a mortal wound and it lays down. It will scream in pain. It will curse at you. It will wish its foul deeds upon you and yours. And it will lie down. Only when its words have no effect and you are still calmly watching it die, will it show any spirit. It will realize that you will not leave, that you refuse to finish it.”

“That is when the Mordok thinks it might still have a chance to live. It will call to its fellow to kill you. It will call to its fellow to heal it. But, its fellow can’t come. Not if you’ve already killed it. It’s not the Mordok’s fault. So you try to help, you wear the skin of its comrade’s hands, and bandage it’s leg. But it runs away no matter how you try to help.”

“It is too stupid to heed your warnings, and stumbles into your trap. When it finally frees itself, it does something so stupidly profane that you can’t excuse it… You need to end it.”

“Then you are left with yourself… Alone… All alone… Without anyone… No matter how hard you try, you can’t laugh anymore.”

That is when Agnor wonders as he does every night why the laughter is so loud in the dead silence, until he blessedly awakens to realize that the laughter is his.

Even if you were there next to him as he woke at his weakest, Agnor would never tell why he is laughing. That he failed to discover the courage to ask Fiendskap what he was eating. Just like all of the other Darkcackle.

Name: Jorvik Skolbad
Played by: Michael Weckwerth
Age: 30
Hair: Brown
Eyes:Feral
Race: Ulven
Class: Warrior
Skills: Archery

“Come my son…we must hunt or else we shall starve.” The graying Ulven said to lad who followed at his heel. Life outside of the pack was a life of hardship, but that’s what happens when one loses ones honor.

Olsaf Skolbad had been on guard duty when his son was merely a pup, guarding the Silverhowl pack from Mordok raids that had been increasing over the past few months. His mate had been lost in just such a raid shortly after the birth of Jorvik, his son. Something strange was on the wind this fateful night however. Olsaf saw in the distance a great host marching toward the camp. Fearing for the life of his newborn son he abandoned his post, grabbed his son and fled to the woods. The sounds of battle echoed through the forest long into the night. The next morning Olsaf returned to the charred ashes of their camp to find the survivors of the attack, still licking their wounds. Olsaf knew he was a cowered and as his wounded clansmen spat at him as he approached ready for his judgment. Honor less coward they called him. There was no room in the pack for the weak of heart. Forever banished to the mercies of the Great Wolf.

Adrenaline pumped through Jorviks veins. He saw his prey and could hear the heart of the elk pounding. He notched an arrow from his quiver, and steadied his nerves. “Shoot lad!” His father whispered into his ear. The arrow loosed and found its mark. The animal jumped high into the air and took off through the forest. “Well done, the arrow flew true. Let’s track it before nightfall.” The old Ulven and his son followed the blood trail deep into the woods. A testament to the stamina of the elk, the two traveled to a part of the forest which they had not yet traveled to. The blood trail was getting more and more sparse, and the night was growing colder.

The blood trail abruptly ended in a clearing. The old Ulven’s hair began to stick up on the back of his neck, that smell from all those years ago drifted across the glen. “Jorvik, run!” Olsaf yelled as he drew his rusty blade. Mordok crashed through the brush lunging at Olsaf. Jorvik tried to notch an arrow at the nearest beast, but from behind, a Mordok crashed into him knocking him and his bow to the ground. The black creature was on top of him as they rolled around in the snow. The monster had Jorvik by the throat and was squeezing the life out of him. Jorviks attempts to bash the creatures arms off of his neck were becoming more and more futile. As the light began passing from his eyes, he remembered his hunting knife in his boot. He pulled the blade free and thrust it into the Mordok’s throat. The grip around his neck lessened, and he rolled the creatures body off of him. He looked up and saw his father. The old Ulven had seen many a winter but the spirit of the wolf was still inside of his old body. One Mordok lay slain at his feet while he was fending off two more with his ancient blade. Jorvik grabbed for his bow but it had been snapped in half. He ran as fast as he could and crashed into the nearest Mordok who was assailing his father. They grappled in the snow while Osalf fought the Mordok in front of him. The Mordok that was wrestling Jorvik had gotten on top and had pinned his arms beneath him. The Mordok unsheathed a sinister looking blade and was about to plunge it into the heart of Jorvik when the old Ulven cut the head off of the Morok on his son, but exposing himself to the Mordok he was fighting. Jorvik looked on with agony as an ugly blade appeared in the center of the Ulvens chest, and a red stream began to flow from his linen shirt. The ancient blade that the old Ulven had so masterly wielded sank into the snow in front of Jorvik. Rage filled his heart as the world became a red haze. Jorvik raised the rusted blade from the snow and advanced towards the black-skinned beast, struggling to wrench its wicked blade from his father’s chest. Jorvik hacked with all of his might at the Mordoks shoulder driving it deep into the creature’s torso. The blood on the snow looked dark as Jorvik ran to his dying father. “Son, I may have lost my honor but you, you did not run when I bade you too. You are brave and a true son of the Great Wolf. Though I will die you shall live on to do great deeds! Now I go, to be with your mother and the Great Wolf.” And with that, bleeding in the snow, passed Olsaf Skobald, the coward. Jorvik went to each Mordok he had slain and cut off their ears. With sorrow still in his heart and bloodlust in his veins, Jorvik Skolbad headed back toward to his estranged pack, to fulfill his destiny.

Ranmir Longfang
Played by: Paul “Vago” Peterson
Name: Ranmir “Brûf” Longfang
Gender: Male
Birth Year: 229
Age: 35
Race: Ulven
Hair: Dishwater Blonde
Eyes: Blue-Green
Occupation: Hunter (Rogue Class)
Known Skills: Archery, Sword and Shield
Birthplace: Onsallas Village (Mardrun)

Appearance: Standing a little over six feet, Ranmir has dishwater blonde colored hair and blue-green eyes. He dresses nondescriptly in browns, greys and greens. His cloak seems to blend in and out of view when seen at a distance. He favors these colors, as they are what have allowed him to survive in the Dirge Swamp for so long. His tattered Longfang flag is one of the few items that tie him to what he once was.

Notable Traits: Psychologically damaged by his time in the Dirge Swamp, Ranmir has become almost as much a wolf as he is an Ulven. He does not understand the ways of the humans and the Syndar, the way other Ulven do, and thus believes in the traditional ways of the Ulven. He is, as of yet, suspicious of the other races.

Biography: Ranmir was born in the year 229, the second son of Dennagarth Stormjarl and Yoreden Longfang. As a pup, he wanted anything but to be Stanrick’s little brother. Whatever Stanrick was training to do, Ranmir would make sure he was doing something else. While Stanrick was training to be a hunter, Ranmir started sneaking around, climbing trees. One morning while Stanrick was sparring with his hunter trainer, Ranmir decided to pick up Stanrick’s bow, and start shooting. He truly was a natural, and within a week was shooting just as well as Stanrick. Ranmir continued to train with the bow, while his brother began to focus on his swordsmanship.

As a Longfang, Ranmir quickly became familiar with the Mordok, due to the proximity of his home to the Dirge Swamp. After completing his hunter training, Ranmir even led a few scouting packs a short way into the swamp to better keep tabs on the movement of the Ulven’s eternal foe. At 18, he was tracked down by a band of Mordok while staying overnight in the swamp, and nearly died, but for chancing upon another hunting group to even the odds.

When Ranmir was 21, a strange vessel came to the territories bringing other tribes of different races. For a year Ranmir fought with his brethren to stop the invasion, after which, our leaders discovered they could be reasoned with. With a truce newly formed, Ranmir set off alone into the swamp: If these outsiders could come to a truce with the Ulven, surely the Mordok could as well.

He journeyed into the Dirge Swamp with only his own weapons and wits to protect him. He knew he could not return to Onsallas until he had succeeded in the task laid before him. For the first few months, he tracked the movements of the Mordok, trying not to be seen. A few times he was spotted, but his training as a hunter allowed him to evade combat and escape. After Ranmir knew their movement patterns, the encounters became fewer and fewer. He attempted to make peace with the Mordok by leaving fresh game in their paths, to no avail. He tried unarmed attempts and negotiation, but was met with hostility. After a season of failure he began to forget his original mission, turning instead to focus purely on his own survival.

When his supplies ran low, he would silently make his way to the camps of small packs of Mordok, taking as much food as he could carry, before retreating into the night before the Mordok could be roused. The longer he stayed in the swamp, however, the more desperate for supplies he became, occasionally not even waiting until nightfall to steal from the Mordok. As he would run from his targets, Ranmir eventually picked up on a single word they would shriek as soon as he was discovered: “Brûf”. For years he remained in the Dirge Swamp, with no contact save for with the Mordok, forgetting all he once was. Ranmir was gone. Left now was only “Brûf”.

Now, twelve years after entering the swamp, he spotted a band of warriors, hunters, and clerics, dotted with a familiar face or two, who had ventured into the Dirge Swamp. Curious but cautious, he followed their movements along their journey until they left the swamp which he had called home for over a decade. His journey was just about over. It was time to go home.

Relationships:
Brothers: Stanrick Longfang, Yawn Longfang
Great-aunt: Solvig Longfang
Cousins: Harlok Longfang, Rill Longfang, Reyna Longfang.
Courting Brother: Selena Stargazer
Niece: Siren Longfang

Rumors: I once had a brother who had hoped that the Mordok could be reasoned with I have not seen him in over 10 years when he walked off into the darkness that cold night. –Stanrick Longfang