He appeared out of the darkness. Only huffs of condensation betrayed the moving mass of furs as something living. To any onlooker, the creature moving towards the lights of the village was nothing more than some amalgamation of forest animals. The hood was pulled over his face so that only darkness could be seen. He came from the wilderness as if some sort of cross between animal and man. His destination lay before him. A safe heaven from the cold bite of winter.
The nights were getting colder and he knew that even as skilled as he was in the wild, winter was no place for a sensible person to be caught out. He had with his the fruits of his labor. A couple of weeks’ worth. Behind him was a makeshift sled that he had manufactured out of his bed furs and his spear. He dragged it containing the goods he brought to sell. He had stashed some emergency supplies and other things that would last the winter in various hiding places. He had learned from the squirrels and other animals to save up. Even those stashes would not be enough to survive on.
Despite how much he hated the comparison, it was times like these that being a human helped. He had traded and survived enough winters to know that civilization would increase his chances. He did not need much and the villagers usually tolerated him enough to let him hang around the village for the winter months. He would depart a few weeks before spring to begin tracking game. Until then, he would have to endure and be endured.
While he could not be called a regular, enough village people knew him as to not arise unnecessary submission. Still, many gave him a wide berth when he was about. Little did he know that this time he would have even less than the condescending welcome he usually got. He approached the village just before the morn, when the sky is darkness. Not even the light of the cold somber moon was enough to illuminate him enough to allow any sentry to identify him as nothing more than human. True, he smelled like a wet dog who had been buried and left to marinate for a week but human he was none the less. He was about 100 or so feet on the edge of the village, the light of the sentry’s torch illuminating the outside edge as if the light was one last bastion of protection keeping away the darkness and all that I represented.
Innocently, he stepped into the light, passed the threshold between nightmares and lucid waking. His fur covered boots muddy, his breathing ragged. There was no way for him to guess what would happen next.
Fer immediately felt like a jerk as he gazed upon the poor man. He had not meant to be so brash but his blood had begun to stir with a personal need to do something for this family that had not been done for his own. He would be dead himself before he let the same fate befall the farmer and his kin.
“Thank you. Any information helps and you have been able to provide numbers. Please, leave it to us. The King himself has sent us to put a stop to these bandits. We…” He motioned to his party as if to drive his next words home “…we are here now. These bandits have preyed on the innocent too long. I think they need to feel the sting of my friend’s sword…” He smiled in Cole’s direction “..and judgement of the holy warrior from the church” He nodded towards Auriel.
He was not much of a speaker but he knew that some times peasants needed to believe in the supernatural and in this world, the Legendary Heroes were as saintly as it gets. He cleared his throat and turned to Cole. “We should come up with a strategy that saves the farm and does not put any innocent into unnecessary risk.”
He looked out the windows. As with any farm, there was a lot of open spaces for farming and such. Also like a farm, there was too many dry stuff that could easily catch on fire. He knew that the bandits would be easy to spot but guessed that hiding was not going to be their strategy. The bandits probably wanted to present a dramatic front and cause chaos and destruction. If this was the case then there may be hope to them winning. True professional killers got rid of the target and moved on. Only cowards and weaklings relished in wanton destruction.
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.
Height: 5' 9" weight: 180-190 lbs Hair: dirty blonde Eyes: Hazel Body: Weathered but fair. He has man scars and self tattoos. He has an athletic and lean body. Muscles are more functional than bulky. He is able to lift slightly more than average and is dexterous and fast.
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.