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.
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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.