Name: Arn Thorstun

Kin: North

Magic: totemism- Arn is able to be guided by spirit animals who he has killed and ingested. He is able to somehow understand to some generic communication with animals in an instinct or intent level. He also seems to acquire the memories (in the animal’s point of view) of the animals he kills.

Age: 36

Appearance:

Personality: Arn is very quiet. He often hums, growls, grunts or even squeaks like an animal. His mannerisms also mimic those of the animals in the wild. He will often talk to you with hes head cocked or look at you over the top of his eyes. He tends to not talk much which means when he does his voice sounds hoarse or choked due to lack of use. It is very extremely rare, but he does smile and will laugh when the feeling fills him. It has been many years since he did so though. He tries to not let anger take him, but if it does, he is like a wild animal. His eyes harbor a very deep sadness. He thinks more of survival than anything else but he does have some abstract thoughts. His main interest is to find out more about animals and their way of life. He is attracted to children because they are mainly happy but due to his visage, many kids are afraid of him and adults are wary of him which makes Arn sad.

Skills: Proficient with bow, spear and long knife. Able to set up traps. Expert tracker. Able to craft bows and a good fletcher. Knowledgeable of of poisons.

Fears: He is unable to sense anything from humans other than chaos or darkness. So he avoids them as soulless being and fears he is one himself. Despite living his life as an animal, human emotions such as envy, fear, anger etc. still assail him.

Likes: Nature and is able to appreciate it. He likes all kinds of animals and will often be seen communing with he stray dog or cat rather than with humans. He also likes sweets. He will trade eagerly for any candied nuts etc.

Equipment:
clothing: Assortment of furs and leather pieced and patched together more for functionality than looks. This includes a leather shirt and fur semi permeable pants. For colder climates he has a sort of poncho/cloak with hood and mittens.

Weapons: He also has a bow, hunting spear, and quiver of arrows. He often makes his arrow heads from obsidian but saves his iron ones for specially big game. He also has two long hunting knives he uses mainly for skinning but is able to use them in combat if need be.

Travel Gear: He has a bedroll made of furs and water skin. He keeps a pair of flint rocks to start fires. He also has a sort of collapsible snow shoes that go over his boots. he has a wooden flute that is lightly decorated with carvings.

Trade goods: Rabbits fur x5, deer fur x 3, antlers of various sizes x 15, Walrus tusks x4, walrus blubber oil x5qts.

Biography: His is a simple enough tale. His father was a trapper. His mother stayed at home but was able to play the flute and knew some healing arts. He had an older brother and baby sister. Two of his other siblings had died due to natural causes, sickness and hunger.
He always felt weird when his father came home with game. He would help with the skinning but always felt off as if he was taking from the animal. His father always drilled him about the fact that he was a man and as such needed to know how to provide for his family. Ironically, he was very accurate with he bow and spear.

One day when he was 8, he was especially feeling sentimental after a long hard grill from his father and his brother. He stomped off the house stating that he would hunt something and that they would see he was not a useless mama’s boy always hanging around her skirt folds.
He stayed out too late, managed to hunt a snow hare but got lost. He ended up having to eat his catch and camped on nearby cave. It was then that he discovered about his gift, curse whatever you may call it. He could somehow feel the presence of the hare just as he had all those animals before. But somehow, he felt is stronger. Especially when he ate it. He felt compelled to keep the foot. He went to sleep but suddenly woke up in the dead of the night. Something in the air made him feel afraid.

The sky was dark but in the distance, an ominous glow lit the sky to the west. He felt an urgent sense to go towards it. Before he arrived, some extra sense made him hide among the snow, almost as a hare would. Even when saw the flames and smelled the smoke, his body made him be cautious and made sure that there was no danger left.

Eventually, he would discover the charred bodies of his family. There where wounds in them that could only have belonged to weapons made by man. He never know who or why but he was an orphan in the great big world with nobody to care. He held his rabbit's foot close. It may have been luck or the hare who had saved him.
He spent the rest of his years avoiding civilization as much as he could. The idea that one of those person had killed his family made him angry and impotent. He instead, became a sort of hermit and nomad. He collected more totems from his catches. He felt he honored them by keeping them alive and living for them. In return, they seemed to share their instincts with him and to some extent their memories.

Ladled with furs and other tradable goods, he makes his way to the village of Norn. Who knows what life may bring or what death may follow.

Name: Gwendolyn
Kin: Northern
Magic:

Healing-From her years of study with the village healer, Gwendolyn learned the healing arts and the different ways to treat injury and illnesses in various forms. With magic, she discovered that she could hasten and strength the body's ability to heal though at a price. Every use causes her energy to drain and her head to ache, the severity dependent on how long she uses her magic and how severe what she is attempting to heal is. And as she treats someone, their aches and symptoms mirror themselves on her.

Singing-With focus and knowledge of a person, Gwendolyn can raise her voice in song to comfort, soothe to sleep, calm, or incite anger. If she loses her concentration, the effect ends. If her knowledge of the other person fails and they are unable to be affected by what she does, then the songs have no effect on the indented person. Leaves her voice rough and a headache after use. Her newest, undeveloped skill.
Age:25
Appearance: 6 ft tall, sturdy, and muscular with skin like bronze and face sharp as a knife with eyes like emeralds inset and watchful. Her long, flowing, wheat-gold hair hangs to her lower back, held from her face behind her ears. Often wears her tan fur robe with a green hooded cloak and leather shoes.
Personality: There's a cautiousness to her when she meets or experiences someone or something new. Her eyes observe until she has a better idea of who or what she's dealing with, taking care as she learns. If dangerous, she'll do all she can to defend herself. If not, she will act depending on the circumstances. If someone's needing help, she'll help how she can. If something intrigues her, she'll try to learn all she can about it. And once she has her mind set on something, she'll stubbornly persist in it. People in particular she has found fascinating to observe and learn about, even if not all people are to be trusted. The few things in life she truly and unabashedly loves though are the healer that took her in and that she views as father, music and singing, learning, the woods and the stars above, and the various animals such as puppies, kittens, and horses.
Skills: The non-magical healing arts, herblore, how to identify edible fruit, singing (voice is what some would call a soprano), lute-playing, dancing (barely based on what she's seen. Has only done it when alone.)
Fears: messing up in front of others, making things worse when trying to help, being in the midst of crowds
Likes: music, learning, nature (particularly the forest and stars), animals, being able to help others
Equipment: lute, dagger, bag of common healing herbs and bandaging, waterskin, comb.

Biography: Her story began one summer's day. The healer of the village of Norn had gone out to pick more herbs in the forest. As he came to one patch, he heard a baby's cry. Frowning, he went forward and discovered where she lay, abandoned in a bush. He took pity on the child, picked her up, and took her in. He did all he could to care for his little summer child, making sure she lived day by day and singing sweet lullabies so she slept at night.

And as the months passed, she grew bigger and brighter, her hair shining brightly now. Along with that, she started getting into mischief. He would try to warn and stop her when she wanted to touch the hearth fire or tried to climb a tree she wasn't ready for, but often he couldn't get her to stop before her curiosity was satisfied. And it'd often take loving care, fond gentle chastisement, and hugs and songs to deal with the aftermath. Finally, he figured out ways to direct her mind when she needed something to do and she finally learned caution. Her attention then fell on how her father would treat the villagers for their injuries.

The whole process was, intriguing. How the different herbs were applied. How people eventually got better. And the way he'd soothingly care for them through the process, helping them along in every way he could. And so at the age of five, she decided that she was going be a healer, just like her father! And so she observed and studied, taking every chance to go with him when he went out to pick herbs and fruit so she could memorize what he picked then watching how he prepared and applied the herbs and bandages. With the doll that he made for her or on stray animals that came by, she practiced the skills that she saw. And on the day they celebrated as her birthday, she would beg him to teach her more. And he would oblige, bit by bit, proud of the way she pounced on the knowledge she gave him. But, he was also growing concerned.

He knew it was mostly his fault for tending to be a loner except when people needed him. His little Gwendolyn was starting to copy him in that. Rare indeed was it when she wanted to play with the other village children, and rare in turn when they wanted to play with her now. Sometimes she'd watch them at their games, but hardly ever tried to participate in them. She needed time with others her age, but he couldn't make himself force her to. But he decided to at least make sure that there were other activities to her life than just healing. He took her outside to stargaze, telling her the stories of the constellations and enjoying her excited eyes. He'd watch her as they went to market, seeing whatever caught her eye and seeing if he could buy it. The lute was the biggest purchase by far, but the way she smiled and hugged him when she got that for a birthday present was worth it. True, his ears twinged whenever she played her notes wrong, but he enjoyed her excitement, her progress, and how her voice blended with the instrument.

The most excited still was the day of her fourteenth birthday, when he officially took her on as an apprentice healer. A good portion of the village were trying to push him to marry her off by now, but he didn't care for that, especially with the excited way she tackled her new duties. He wouldn't trade that happiness for the world. And so he taught and she learned, helping him whenever she could as the ways she had practiced were critiqued and made better. Pretty soon, there wasn't much more he could teach her.

And that's when she discovered her connection to magic. I had come one day as she tried to help one customer with a bad arm. The arm set quickly and easily, the man went on his way, and she collapsed with a blistering headache. After that scare, some care from him, and how the man's arm healed earlier than expected, Gwendolyn worked to do what she had done on purpose, finding out what she could do and if she would always be that exhausted every time. Her father helped to keep her new gift secret, worried about what the villagers would say if they found out. Especially after she found that she could get some of the villagers surprisingly sleepy if she sang lullabies they liked.

But she has continued to work at it, curious at these new skills of her. How far could she take them? Was there more that she could do? Only time could tell, but she was curious.

Mira of the Crow’s Eye

“You have not the faintest idea what I have seen which you never will.
Theme : Lake of Tears - Solitude

Kin: An old tribe to the northeast.

Magic: Mira’s magic is based on the communication with things that no usual person can. The dead, spirits of nature, and animals. She does not communicate with them in the way humans speak with each other, rather, they speak in more abstract ways, Mira can simply ask them questions of course, but it is not as easy for something in the next world. If it is a dead spirit, it may come in the form of signs pertaining to her question, or a change in the wind. Animals could communicate in more conventional ways, a dog barking, a raven cawing. If something can understand Mira, then she can understand it. Mira commonly refers to all things she communes with collectively as “Seeing Kin,” to refer to the fact that most of them regard her with familiarity, perhaps because it isn’t every day when the dead can speak to the living. The Seeing Kin have taught Mira many things over the years, such has different herbs and their uses, as well as little known wisdoms of the world, and the skill to read a person’s intentions. They don’t share everything, and sometimes they hesitate to even interact with Mira, but she is rarely ever alone, even in her travels across the land. Mira can also see into the heart of a person to see their true intentions with little more than a few moments of their presence.

You can’t lie to the dead.

Age: late 40.

Appearance : Mira’s age shows on her body, her skin is tanned from years of wandering in the day, and she has tough skin on her hands. Cold blue eyes and long, unkempt hair black as night make it clear that she’s used to being outside. Standing at roughly 5’8” and sometimes looking like she just walked through a jungle doesn’t change the fact that she’s quite physically healthy from all the walking, you can’t see much it with the big, ashen black leather cloak that has kept her warm on many cold nights. Along her arms are a number of faded scars from various things such as deep-cutting thorns or bite marks from ill mannered dogs. Ironically, she has a crows feet or two around her eyes as well.

Personality: A quiet and distanced woman with a knack for observing things before so much as opening her mouth, Mira has a sagely atmosphere around her that gives away the fact that she’s no from around here. When you get to know Mira, she’s quite a seemingly normal person, she’s relaxed and very independent, refusing to let people push her around. Mira cares little for political dealings with lands and allegiances, it’s none of her concern what the North thinks of the East, or what the leaders of the North expect her to do as a person living here, even if she doesn’t. Mira can best be described as out of place wherever she goes. She doesn’t talk the same way as others, she doesn’t act like others, or anything like that.

Skills:
Crow Calling - Mira is quite good at mimicking noises made by crows and ravens, it makes it easy for her to speak with them. This isn’t very helpful outside of using Seerism, unless a murder of crows follows her and does what crows do.

Survival and Herbcraft - There are quite a few things that Mira can do with plants for the benefits of others, such as throw together some medicine from the forest, or put someone to sleep at night when they have a fever with the right leaves. This has helped her stay fed on occasion, but it mostly helps her trade for food until she gets to the next town, or scavenge for edible plants on the way. Her forest knowledge doesn’t end there. Growing up in a tribe, she learned to make and tend to fires, as well as cook an animal. She doesn’t have any method of killing one, unless she sneaks up on a rabbit and stabs it, but she can get by all the same on her own.

Traveling - Everything from keeping directions to making accurate maps of the land. Mira has done a lot of waking over the years, so it’s come in handy on numerous occasions to keep track of her direction, especially when the Seeing Kim won’t help.

Staff - Mira’s old, sturdy walking stick has helped her fend off many wild animals and arrogant robbers on the roads and in the woods, she can’t swing it like a maniac, she’s not a ninja, but she is no stranger to clobbering someone over the head for pulling in knife of her.

Fears:
Her biggest fear is the unknown. Mira has learned a lot from her magic, but something she ponders often is what she hasn’t yet learned. Considering some of the strange things they’ve told her about things out of her reach, what are the chances that there are things more world-shattering than she could hope to know? Perhaps they’ll tell her when the time is right. Perhaps.

Likes: Crows, forests, traveling, worldly knowledge.

Equiptment:
A leather cloak stained black with ash gifted to her by an old tribe of people she was with when she learned to understand her magic. Decorated with the shapes the moon takes. She smells like burning wood when she wears this.

A large leather satchel with multiple things inside including:
* A waterskin
* A knife
* A rather shiny rock that Mira uses as a looking glass, for specific discussions with the spirits

A tall wooden staff, with a gnarled head that stands eye level with Mira. It has been carved meticulously over a long period of time.

Biography: A very long time ago, Mira lived far from Norn, in a tribe of loosely connected people to the northwesternled by a few elders. The weather was quite cold, but it never snowed terribly. There were always whispers in Mira’s head, but the people of the tribe merely dismissed it as a little girl having imaginary friends. Everyone in the tribe pulled their own weight one way or another, they made bows or they fired bows. They gathered food or they prepared food. Living wasn’t exactly hard for the 50 to 60 people in the tribe, but they could afford to be complacent. When it came time, Mira was deemed old enough to help with the work, they told her “No more imagination, it’s time to help out.” Of course, that all changed when Mira was 13, and told one of the hunters that if he went out there, he’d die from a wolf. She begged him to stay, telling him that a big wolf would sneak up on him and eat him, this wasn’t like her at all, but the hunter assured her he’d be on the look out and keep looking behind him. Sure enough, he barely caught the wolf before it bit into him, he had just enough time to stop it, and he brought home more than a deer to eat.

The hunter thanked Mira, seeing as he really was saved by her foresight, but this kind of thing happened more and more as Mira got a little older, and the tribe finally realized she was some kind of seer. This worried them greatly. The voices in her head were real. The elders took her into privacy to ask about what she was doing. She told them she was listening to what the voices said, but mostly what she crows told her. Crows? Talking to a human? Unimaginable. The thing that really bothered the elders was the fact that some of the things she contacted weren’t crows, or even alive. They frowned upon this, and demanded she refrain from using her gift on the dead, but Mira told them she couldn’t stop the dead. They spoke to her when they wanted, it wasn’t up to her. The elders reluctantly let this slide after much consideration, believing that Mira was not trying to hurt anyone’s wellbeing, and this the spirits who move in from this world wanted to share wisdom with a little girl, so be it.

Mira was at the age where she could have gotten married, and some of the older women occasionally liked to needle her about it. The tribe wasn’t in any kind of condition where they needed everyone to reproduce for numbers, but her people believed she should think about those things. Of course, being touched by the dead put some people off, who wants to marry a crazy girl that talks to the ghost of her husband’s ornery mother? She never did settle down for a family, not out of rebellious tendencies, simply because she never found anyone for that. Mira’s place in the tribe would become a more distanced one, though a very helpful one for them, when they came to respect what she did.

Mira’s elders thoroughly advised her to take preference with crows over the dead, wherever she could. “Let the dead rest as they please, and let the foul birds do their part.” She understood what they were trying to tell her, after all, she didn’t feel terribly easy about dead voices in her head. This girl, who was only 15 at the time was aptly given a nickname in the tribe as a sign of her gift among her people. Mira of the Crow’s Eye. She began helping the tribe in her own unique way, divining the events to come. One older person in the tribe taught her how to actually call the crows, since they rarely came to her, that way she could use her gift more. Crows became her most common method of magic, and at her tent, there would often be several crows sitting on the ground or perched outside, cawing at people who approached. It was quite funny to see little children get scared by them. The tribe began to understand her a lot more, and while some people definitely feared her magic, only out of a lack of understanding, they slowly realized it was just a tool for her to help them survive, and they’d take what they could get. There would always be a few people who felt uneasy around Mira, maybe because of her crows she conspired with, or her strange gift itself, but everyone agreed that there were a lot less accidents in the tribe when Mira started hearing things.

This went on until Mira was in her 20s, the seeing kin, as she learned to call them, had given her visions of things throughout the world that she could see if she left this tribe. She lived in her own tent, and contemplated things that they told her, she did that often, and the tribesmen trusted her to tell them if it was important, that’s why she told them that there were things she needed to take a walk for. Mira told the elders about what she had seen, far away from the tribe. The tribe had grown beyond the old days, but the elders were still hesitant. They feared what would happen without Mira’s gifts, but Mira was her own woman, she had friends with her wherever she went that would only accompany her and her alone. The elder told her, “Go if you must, stay if you must. What your crows tell you is not for us to understand. If this is the last time we ever see you, know this. Though some still fear your gift, we will always be grateful for all you have done for us, Mira of the Crow’s Eye.” Mira heeded the words of the spirits, and set out to wander the world, recording everything she saw.

That was two decades ago, and now she is arriving in the village of Norn, an educated, seasoned wanderer who has seen more than most see in their lives, other seers, druids, magical healers, and much more. She can’t say whether these people will trust her, but she will find out. If this is the end of her life, so be it, but she likes to think her path has just begun. She never left the snowy lands of the north in her travels, but she has still seen quite a bit.