Name: Ylva Giermundson
Player: Rachel Miller
Class: Cleric
Age 24
Race: Ulven
Hair: Red
Eyes: Blue
I am Ylva Giermundson, though I was born Ylva Thorandottir. I was born into the Stormfang pack of Clan Axehound in year 245. I made the decision to leave after the death of my younger sister, Kari. Her death was my fault, and it broke me. My sister was my closest companion, and though I often resented her for her weaknesses, I loved her dearly. Our parents were deemed unfit to fight for the pack and were forced to farm the land instead. My father strived to have his children bring honor back to our name. When my sister and I were young, he begged a great warrior to take us as apprentices to learn to fight. Kari and I were constantly pushed past our limits; I thrived in it. My sister did not. It was decided that because she was so beautiful, she should not need to learn to fight, she would make a prospective wife for the warrior’s eldest son when he came of age. This was how we would repay him. I, on the other hand, continued fighting and learning new skills.
That winter we suffered from great hunger and Kari and I went out to hunt. We found ourselves running rapidly through a rough terrain in the forest. We were in pursuit of a kill that would bring food to our family for several days. Kari begged me to slow down for her, but I snapped and told her that if she couldn’t keep up and pull her own weight in the family for once, our deaths would be on her hands. When I finally killed the beast we were hunting, I asked its soul for forgiveness and turned to my sister to share my pleasure. But she had let herself fall behind and was nowhere in sight. I carried the burden of the creature myself, angry that I had to do it alone. I came across Kari. She had tripped over a root and cut her leg deep over some jagged rock. She begged me for help to bind her wound and bring her home, but in my anger I denied her. I hoped she might learn to do something for herself. We walked home together and I watched as she poorly bound her own wound without cleaning it or applying any salve. I knew better, but I let her do this. It was not much longer after that I was burying her.
I chose to leave Stormfang by my own accord and seek a new way of life. I heard rumors of the location of a warrior, Toralf Grimmsvulker, who left our pack 13 years ago in search of a better life, and decided to seek him out.
As long as I live I will never forget the pleas of my sister and the cries of my parents at her passing. And I will never live this down. When the Great Wolf turns to judge me it will find that I turned my back on my own family when I could have helped. So, from here on, I vow to lay down my sword unless it is for the necessary defense of others. I must learn to become a cleric and I will give every moment in search of redemption in the eyes of the Great Wolf.
****
Luck would have it that I would find Toralf. After months of traveling on my own I now had a new companion. Many more months passed and we decided to be life mates. Toralf discarded the name that he gave himself when he was a mercenary and took back his fathers name and would be Toralf Giermundson. And being mates, I took it too.
UPDATE:
Year 273.
I am now more commonly known as Ylva the Lifemender of Clan Stormjarl, Bane of Undeath, Daughter of Gaia. Honorifics and titles granted to me by my found family, the Einherjar of Stormjarl. I’ve worked incredibly hard these last 7 years to become a great healer and surgeon. With Gaia’s blessings I have been able to save many lives.
In the Spring of 272, while participating in an expedition patronized by our ally Prince Aylin, I traveled to an island north of Clans Whiteoak & Axehound. We knew it may be dangerous, being so close to the Outlands, but we were not expecting to find undead. This was my first experience with them. A scout that went out to scope the island was killed before we realized what was happening. Horrifyingly, I was the only healer on the island able to tend to the plague-riddled bites inflicted on many of the party. We managed to avoid any additional deaths after that, but it was such a close call. I suffered night terrors for a while after returning home. This experience is what sent me on an obsessive hunt to find a way to heal people faster. The rush of dying patients all looking to me lit a fire under my ass. It took a full year of dedicated work with assistance from friends, but I was able to create a device – the syringe – that would allow me to heal people more efficiently by pushing medicines into their systems.
Due to these efforts, my mate Toralf jokingly started to call me “Bane of Undeath”, but I wouldn’t start referring to myself that way until after his capture at the Ulven Moot of 273. I cling to anything that reminds me of him as we work towards finding him and returning him home.
With another war launched, I’ve begun teaching others my craft, working hard to bolster healing forces and help cut down on lives lost. I pray to Gaia that if my mate escapes himself before we find him, he may find healers anywhere he goes.
While I’m able to train people now, there have certainly been those who have taught me as well. After several years of training under Jarl Fritha Stormjarl, I was finally ready to become a Daughter of Gaia. It is through Gaia and this training that I was able to access both channels of magic. I cherish this honor of being able to perform needed rituals and rites for my people. I will continue to do all I can in the name of saving people. And when it is my time, I hope the Great Wolf will know my name.