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[h3]Character Description[/h3]
[b]Name:[/b] Oddveig; Mainly Fig, sometimes [s](don’t)[/s] Odd or Vei
[b]Species:[/b] Gundrukan
[b]Race/Nationality:[/b] Fjallborg
[b]Gender:[/b] Female
[b]Age:[/b] 41
[b]Languages:[/b] Gundrukanian, Arventian, North Sylpharimese

[b]Appearance:[/b]
[hider=image][img]https://i.ibb.co/ym7HQ0rP/94b33285f384415a9b7bd45cff3cf126.jpg[/img][/hider]
By Gundrukan standards Fig is but a sprout in age and stature. She’s not the typical burly cave dweller associated with her kind; and while she is somewhat broad-shouldered, it’s more genetics than physical training with Fig’s frame noticeably leaner when standing next to a fellow shin-kicker (not that she cares).

[b]Personal Effects[/b]:
A journal she’s affectionately called “Small observations by tiny people”, charcoal because she’s a cheapskate “Ink ‘n quill, you daft bastards think I’m made of coppers?”, some excavation tools like a small pickaxe, chisel and hammer - Oh, and a dagger on the off chance someone - or something - is within jabbing range.

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[h3][b]Background[/b][/h3]
[b]Role[/b]: Archivist, the world is vast and its historical secrets infinite.

[b]Backstory[/b]:
As a Gundrukan you either smith steel or live long enough to see yourself wield it. Fig was more infatuated with the natural wonders of Mindara and chose neither. She longed to write her own findings - not that rubbish any of the teachers back home forced down her skeptical little noggin. So once she got her parents to stop nagging to find a real job, Fig set off into the world with a grin bolted on her face and an empty journal ready to be defaced with several inappropriate doodles.

She’s wandered since. Across mountains and plains, through caves, forests, and ruins, chasing whatever caught her eye and curiosity.

Somewhere between the vines and half-collapsed archways of an old Mindaran ruin, Fig ran into Elenor, quite literally, if you count a lantern to the elbow. The Sylpharim was there to map the terrain; Fig was there to make sense of the stones. Their introductions weren’t exactly warm. But mutual wariness turned to shared theories soon enough, and between the two of them the ruins didn’t stand a chance. They’ve been wandering together on and off since.

[b]Character Intro[/b]:
[hider=Le post]“Ma’am, I’d be more than ha-”

A hand fluttered erratically, waving at the bespectacled man whose brow furrowed with each book added to the pyramid stack that his new customer had decided was a better alternative than asking for someone with greater reach.

Fig fumbled with her balance and settled her hands on the oaken beams of the bookcase. “Whew!” She breathed out of relief. “‘Near the ground, tumble sound’ me papa would’ve said.” She muttered to nobody in particular, shifting her weight so the flimsy stack wouldn’t shift any further.

The owner of the bookstore grumbled something indecipherable, shaking his head at the sorry state of the second hand books. A travesty.

“Oh, pshaw! Everyone and their dog’s got at least one edition of ‘Grimvelt’s guide to edible tree bark’.” She offered with a mock apology. “It’s comedic gold, that one. Step one, season elm strips with crusted leaves.” Fig cackled under her breath, pale eyes glancing upward at the top shelves.

Of course the volume she needed was up there somewhere. Always her bloody luck that nobody ever thought of bookish Gundrukan, right?

Under normal circumstances, a certain winged companion could have given a quick hand in retrieving what she needed. Fig however had decided not to argue the point of a cool sea breeze messing with Elenor’s plumage, and instead let the Sylpharim doodle her precious map of the coastal city from up high. She couldn’t judge. The view was quite breathtaking, if not a little salty.

With a grunt and a half-hop that would’ve made any self-respecting Gundrukan tut in disapproval, Fig snagged the elusive volume by its spine and eased it free without toppling the rest. “Ha! See? Grace incarnate,” she declared, clutching her prize like a trophy.

The stack wobbled ominously, the shopkeeper winced, and Fig shot both a warning glance. “Don’t even think about it.” With her quarry secured and dignity mostly intact, Fig flashed a satisfied grin. A small victory, perhaps, but a victory all the same; and a great amount of hair loss from the man behind the counter.
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