[center][color=00746b][h2]Ulfrag Thokkson[/h2] 
[h3]The Boy[/h3][/color]


[img]https://i.pinimg.com/564x/9d/f7/db/9df7dbf63b52a7f4e50f512cd58b94ef.jpg[/img][/center]


[Hider=Ulfrag Thokkson]

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[b]Potency:[/b][/color]

As a child, Ulfrag was raised under the stars. They watched over him and the ways of all his people. They delivered answers. They delivered questions. On the night of his birth no stars, nor clouds, nor sun, nor moon met the child as he cried into the night. It had been told. And yet the gothi of this backwater tribe looked down on her son with confusion. How could a heart have such love, and yet such hate? 

One score years passed since that night. The Boy has grown mightier than he has wits to control. He bends the mist and air around him, whispers words into the air that no mouth has spoken, and bends the eyes of many to dream in the light of day--both of wild delights and primal fears. At his will, shadows and light dance through the water and wood as he steps on the twilight of what is real and what is other. The water and rocks hide him, some even say they keep him company with the stories they tell. They say he often takes the forms of other beasts who slink in the brush, always watching, always listening. 

The people fear Ulfrag, yet are drawn to him. The frigid bog which has sheltered them from dangers of the outside world now will take no seeds. Both fish and fur have moved far afield. They look to their gothi for answers, yet she only questions the stars. 


[color=00746b][b]Ambition:[/b][/color]

Do the stars make our fates? Why do the stars say who falls in battle and who raises the head of their foe; who grows fat and old while others wither from foul water; why a rock may grow moss in its rest and not be shattered by the tides? Perhaps the world is better off in a place where the stars and their terrestrial kin have no such say. Or perhaps without the stars to choose, the world is doomed to chaos. No matter the answer, Ulfrag's people must survive. With his mother’s last breath they shall be his charge and he will share their fate in this world or the next. 

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[b]Life:[/b][/color]

Ulfrag’s people are scarcely known by those who do not neighbor the tribes of the north. They are a forgettable folk who struggle on the edge of existence. Though meager in number and sophistication, their communities are tight and culture rich. They are a hearty people, but even the strong have their limits. 

Legend has it that the people were called to this land by a force. This whisper led them from the chaos of the wilds and bronze blades of the “civilized.” In the time before even the grayest of elders, this swamp was the petrified remains of carnage from bygones ago. The bodies of giants lay strewn throughout her wastes. Their stony carapaces now seed the life of trees, moss, and lichens so heavily that they are almost unrecognizable. But the people of this land know they live in a graveyard and know they must one day leave it lest they add to its count. 

At the heart these ancient bodies was found a fragment of an ancient weapon. It’s primordial owner long since having left or perished. This shard is what called to the wandering people of Thokk. It was pulled from the murky depths and placed upon a sprig of birch. The weapon reborn is held only by the gothi of the tribe. It is the ceremonial and literal linchpin of power. All who know it and feel it, fear it. The people whisper that it is the cause of primordial stone that liters their land. Whether or not it still holds this power is unknown, but fear holds a greater power all its own. 

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