The Wolfkin Stedding

Character Name: Gabriel Chaste

DM Handle: Arconix

Age: 22 (Turned at the age of about 19)

Weapons:  Gabriel mostly relies on his bow as a weapon, but he also carries a small hatchet on his side which he generally uses to shape wood, but it can just as easily be used as a weapon.

Physical Appearance: Dark brown hair, hanging almost to his shoulder. He had green-brown eyes, but now it is replaced by the golden colour. About 1.8m tall and weighs about 90kgs. Gabriel has wide shoulders and big arms (being an appretice to a fletcher). He has a broad face structure, and has no facial hair (a very neat person, or tries to be…). He has no physical scars on his body, except for the scars on his hands (recieved from chopping down trees, and preparing the wood for arrow making).

Place of Birth/Raising: Unknown (Mother and Father died when he was young), he grew up in a place just outside of the Two Rivers. He was raised by Sean, a fletcher from the Two Rivers.

**************************

Character History:

The Beginning

Gabriel’s mother and father died when he was still very young, he could not remember very much about them, actually he didn’t remember anything about them, Sean had told him that they were killed by bandits…

The death of his family did not bother him that much, as he didn’t really remember them any more. His only family now was Sean, a fletcher from the Two Rivers, who had taken him in and cared for him like his own son.

Sean, had found Gabriel near the river, in a basket. He trained Gabriel in the art of making arrows and using the bow. Sean was a great teacher, but he was growing old. He usually sent Gabriel out to gather wood from the trees in the forest (this helped Gabriel develop quite a set of arms) and he learned a lot about tracking and hunting from Sean. He also learned a lot about nature, and the animals within the woods.

Over the years Gabriel became quite skilled with the bow and his “shaping” hatchet, he entered a lot of archery competitions and won most of them. Although he was a great archer, he never really killed anyone, only the animals which he hunted for food and hides.

The Turning

At the age of 19 something happened to Gabriel, something strange and wonderfull and scary. Gabriel became more “aware” of everything around him, his eyes were sharper and as well as his sense of smell. The strangest thing for Gabriel was the sudden change of his eye colour, and the strange dreams he’s been having about wolves, and being a wolf.

A strange illness affected Sean, he was old and the wisdoms could not brew any potion to mend his illness, Sean died, and Gabriel was left all alone.

Gabriel was destroyed by the death of his “father”, he packed all his belonging and set out to find a new life elsewhere, where he could be away from the pain inside his heart.

Gabriel started his journey, he chose a path that would take him through the woods and to the river, where he would catch one of the ferrie’s and make his way to one of the cities.

As Gabriel wandered into the forest, he was struck with a sudden and terrible headache, images flashed through his head, images of hunts and wolves… Gabriel collapsed onto the ground… and blacked out…

When Gabriel woke he was not alone, ten paces from him a wolf stood. Gabriel tried to pick himself up, but the pain in his head was just too much, he could not even muster the strength to loosen the hatchet from his side.

The wolf did not move, it only stood there watching Gabriel with a confused look on it’s face.

Suddenly images flashed through Gabriel’s head again, images of a injured mother wolf, giving birth and then dying, images of fighting to survive… Images of solitude… “What the…”, Gabriel realized that the images he saw in his mind was that of the wolf, the wolf was trying to communicate with him.

“Who are you…” It felt awkward talking to a animal. “What do you want from me?”

Images flashed through Gabriel’s mind again, again images of a solitary life… but this time Gabriel could make out some of the words that came with the images…

The wolf wanted a friend, someone to run with, he had been alone all of his life. The wolf was called Fang, and he wanted to accompany Gabriel on his journey… but not into the cities.

Recent

Gabriel got used to the idea of talking with wolves, he actually got really good at communicating with wolves, although most of his time was spent talking with Fang, his new found friend.

His eyesight got even better and this made him especially dangerous with the bow. He could shoot great distances with great and deadly accuracy and Fang taught Gabriel to hunt and move without being seen.

Gabriel and Fang now travel together, they are as close as brothers can be…

Character Name: Zarine Kusharski

DM Handle: Arette

Age: 19

Gender: Female

Place of Birth/Raising: Saldaea

Physical Description: Blonde hair, brown eyes, 5”6 tall, 55 kg. Has a petite nose for a Saldaean and was thus not considered a great beauty.

Character History:

Zarine was a 3rd child born to a minor noble family in southern Saldaea and was the first daughter. Her mother gave her the famous name hoping that she would become a sensational court beauty, who devotes her life to break the hearts of everybody. This was the aim little Zarine was raised for and she wished for it herself too… until everyone realised that she would never be beautiful enough to fill the promise. She had enough personality for it but she settled to at least learning to manage the family estates well while her brothers and father were fighting and learning to become an ideal Saldaean woman who would make a good wife one day when she found a man strong enough for her.

She didn’t resent the fact that she would not be taught to teach with a sword with her brothers but learned instead the basics of more womanly knives and hand-to-hand fighting. Zarine loves horses and hawking and she can indeed ride to the hunt all day while reciting poetry, then play the cittern at night while participating intelligently in discussions of how to counter Trolloc raids. She has also learned from her mother and aunts how good wives spy and how to use the subtle language of the fans to communicate with potential suitors. The women in her family did not know how to dance sa-sara but Zarine dreamt of mastering it somehow for surely that skill would make her worth her name.

The Wheel had different plans for her however. When she turned 18, she became averse to go to the court in the city anymore. Since she had taken responsibility of the family estates, she could use that as an excuse but she found that staying in the house was unbearable. All she wanted to do was to ride and hunt, it was like a mania. She got really worried one night of full moon when she couldn’t resist the temptation to run madly in the woods basking in the moonlight and howling. After that she felt like her senses began to sharpen and her dreams became increasingly odd, involving wolves and hunting in the pack.

She vacated to the family hunting lodge to clear her head and that was when the wolves ‘talked’ to her for the first time. Certain that now she had lost it for good, she couldn’t return to her family and cause them such such shame. The only thing she understood from the four legged insistent animals was an image of mountains covered in mist, sense of safety and home and that she should go there. Since she had no better option and she wanted the madness to end, she began her unbeknowing journey toward the Wolfkin Stedding and discovery by her Kin.

Character Name: Ransom Terrin

DM Handle: CorenYi

Age: 18 nearly 19

Place of Birth/Raising: Illian by birth, everywhere by practice

Physical Appearance: Long, wild and brown hair. Dark Brown eyes at first, golden brown now. 6′ 0″, 185lbs.

Character History:

Sighing, Cal Terrin surveyed the dank room before him, blanching at the sight that presented itself. The mold in the walls of the decaying tenement produced an odor that threatened to make him wretch. However that smell was nothing compared to the stench of death wafting across the room on the cool breeze blowing in through the window. Examining the room more closely he realized that what he had thought was a pile of blankets in the corner were actually bodies. Removing a handkerchief from his pocket he wondered again at what had compelled him to come into this burnt out husk of a farm in the middle of the Illian country side. Perhaps it was his own morbid curiosity, or a fleeting hope of discovering something of value. Whatever it had been, Cal couldn’t shake the cold feeling in the pit of his stomach that said he would regret his decision.

Pushing the ball of cold from his mind, Cal crossed the odiferous room, drawing the kerchief to cover his mouth and nose, and did his best to make certain the patched cloak he wore touched nothing. Kneeling over the bodies, it was clear that they had been trying to escape through the window, but the flames must have overtaken the building too quickly. Moving from the room, he looked through what remained of the house, but there was nothing there. Heading for the door, he decided to be on his way. Stepping back out of the house he stopped dead and suddenly wished he had gone out the back.

Standing not 10 feet away from him, poking through the dirt with a stick was the most sullen looking wretch he’d ever seen. The lad, It was a lad, wasn’t it?, couldn’t have seen much past his fourth year. Struggling against his conscious, Cal began to slowly sidle away from the house, hoping the whelp wouldn’t see him. But, as he turned and began his silent progress to the road he felt the pitiful gaze settle on his back and knew he had been caught. Facing the… brat he barked gruffly, “What do you want?” Then the crying began…

And it didn’t stop. For two years the crying continued well into each night. To Cal it seemed as if it went on forever. His eyes constantly hurt. His body screamed for sleep, and his wallet for coin, but he got neither. But what suffered most was his stomach.  The brat was constantly ravenous, eating what seemed a King’s ransom in food. It was all Cal could do to keep the child fed. His skills were pushed to their very limits, and the Gleeman’s cloak began to weigh heavily on his shoulders.

But the third year rolled around, and things began to get easier. The whelp was strong enough to carry things now, though he was eating less. The crying stopped, but was replaced with the staring. The Light blasted brat never took his eyes off of him. Every moment the thing was awake Cal could feel his eyes on him, and it began to drive him insane.

Then things took a turn for the worse. One night, after stepping out for a moment to relieve himself, Cal returned to the common room of the inn where he had been performing and saw a crowd taking up a small corner of the room. Stepping over, he shouldered his way through the crowd to see what all the fuss was about. The bloody child was juggling… JUGGLING! And with his balls of all things! That was it.

Seizing the child up by the collar, Cal dragged him up the stairs to their room and laid into the boy. A sore hand, two fits of crying, and several hours later, Cal looked across the room at the silently heaving figure of the pant-less brat and an idea slowly presented itself. It began with a twinkle in his eye and spread out into his face, traveling down his lips to his spine and out into his extremities. The tingling brilliance of the idea was orgasmic in its overwhelming beauty.

Rising from his chair he approached the brat, I’ll need to give him a name… , and growled, “Put your breeches back on… Ransom. That’s what you’ll be called from now on.” After the brat did as he was told, Cal began to pace. “Here’s the plan. I’m going to teach you to be a gleeman. The stories, the tumbling, the music, everything. But in return, you are going to go to a different tavern every night and perform until I come a get you. Any money you make goes to me. Are we clear?” Seeing the whelp’s teary eyed nod he continued. “The faster you pick things up, the faster I’ll teach you.  The more you earn, the more I’ll feed you. It’s well past time you earned your keep. Now, sleep brat. I have dinner to earn.”

*****

The sunlight streaming through the window battered against the lad’s eyes and drove him further under the covers in search blissful sleep. That elusive beast was not to be found, however, as the blankets were torn from his body. Rolling into a ball, he prayed that Cal would let him sleep for a bit longer before thrusting him out into the city to do his chores. However the voice which greeted his ears was not the rough grating that belonged to his ‘father’. Rolling over he blinked through the dazzling sunlight and found himself staring up into the piercing blue eyes of a serving wench.

He barely heard the words, and had to ask her to repeat them several times, and even then he couldn’t believe them. Cal… dead… that bastard couldn’t die. He was always going to be there. Ransom would always have to work for him… would always have to pay him for the price of being saved. “No he’s not.”
It was out before he realized it, and the wench’s eyes went sharp with anger. Dragging him down the stairs in a manner he was, by now, quite accustomed to, she pointed to the table where the bloated bastard sat.

Ransom stood staring, his jaw making a dull thud as it bounced off the floor. Dragging himself closer to the chair he examined the corpulent corpse of his one time father, and felt for the life beat. After a second or two he felt nothing and jerked his hand back rapidly from the still warm body. Poking the lard a few times to be certain, he turned to the serving wench, grabbed her by the arms and planted a great wet kiss of relief on her. Laughing at her the dumbfounded stare he received, he turned about, checking the daggers he had hidden in his cloak, and walked from the Rusty Nail, ignoring the shouts about payment that followed him into the street.

*****

Ransom’s dreams had been hounded. Literally. They were filled with large shaggy puppies trying to talk to him. He was convinced they wished to make him their leader, and he relished the dreams. They brought joy into a mind that had only known pain for the longest time. Ransom was happy in the dreams. And it showed in the bounce to his step, the tilt of his head, and the swing of his cape.

*****

Stepping into the Jilted Lover, Ransom’s eyes swept the dingy floor for the innkeeper. His eyes settling on the plump woman behind the bar, he swaggered up to the bar and pitched his most devilish grin. The woman returned his smile rapidly, but her shimmering teeth were bared, not in a smile, but in a frightful snarl. Her eyes gone wide, she screamed and ran into the back shouting for her husband. Ransom was bombarded with a profound confusement and turned to the patrons of the bar for sympathy.

However, what he found was several large men wielding cudgels, their arms the size of his legs. He felt himself being lifted, though his vision was a sea of arms. The world shifted rapidly around him as he felt himself fly head over heels through the air and tumbled out into the street. Coming to a stop against the stone of the building across the way, Ransom couldn’t help but puzzle over why the world was upside down. Struggling to right himself, he attempted to figure out what that ringing was.

After a strenuous battle, Ransom stood triumphantly in the street and brushed himself off, checking to see that his hidden daggers were still in place. He couldn’t understand why an inn would turn down a gleeman, let alone toss him out into the street, but the feeling of welcome he felt drifting out from the woods erased thoughts of rejection and confusion from his mind and replaced them with thoughts of joy and wonderment. Ambling out of the village he followed the thoughts into the woods, not concerned with what might be awaiting him.

Name: Miriana Anwen (Wolflover)

DM Handle: Wolflover

Email: Sageleader[at]yahoo[dot]com

Age: 43

Gender: Female

 
Physical Description

Her build is small and feminine, but strong. Her hair is very long, past her knees and worn mostly in a long braid down her back. The color is a dark auburn with streaks of grey, giving away the age that the rest of her appearance denies. Her skin is tanned from working in the sun. She has a kind face and a motherly air about her, however, it cannot be ignored that she carries herself in a manner that demands respect. Her clothes (mainly dresses) are made of tanned hides, mostly deer as she prefers the softness of their hide.
Two small children accompany her.
Strider – Light brown hair and blue eyes. Clothing made from hides consisting of breeches, a vest and a light cloth shirt. His mischievousness shines in his eyes.
Ariset – Dark auburn hair like her mother and jade green eyes. Her dresses too are made from hides and soft cloth. They are always accompanied by the two wolves Dust and Storm. Dust is a lighter multicolored wolf, whereas Storm is a darker multicolored wolf. Dust and Storm have each one black ear… left and right respectively.

Character History

Miriana was born in Two Rivers, close to the Mountains of Mist. Her family owned a small farm some distance outside a small village. Her mother and sister became ill while she and her father were off hunting before the first winter frost. When she and her father returned it was too late for help, the illness was too advanced and they died soon after. Miriana was 9 turns.

Her uncle arrived when she was 10 and stayed with them to help her father raise her. Between the two of them they trained her in everything that they could. She learned to hunt and to use a dagger to defend herself. Her uncle tried to train her in the sword but she didn’t like it and refused the training. Even with her uncle to help, her father felt that she needed to learn other things as well. Things that only a mother could teach. So, at 12 turns, he started to send her to people in the village. She was a quick learner and she learned the basics of many different skills such as tanning hides, preparing and drying meat, making clothes from the hides of animals and various cloths. She was most adept at healing though. The local Wise Woman said it was her calling but Miriana refused apprenticeship as she felt there was something more to her destiny.

When she was 16 she started to notice subtle changes in herself. Her hearing was growing stronger everyday and her eyesight began to improve. Her sense of smell was also becoming stronger and she was startled when she was able to tell when people were afraid just by their sense of smell. Miriana quit going into the village because all these new senses were frightening her and the Wise Woman didn’t know what was happening. Not long after her 17th turn she woke one morning, dressed and went out for breakfast. Her father and uncle were sitting at the table and looked up at her and smiled as she entered. Then they both lost their smiles at the same time and surprised marked their faces.
They asked if she was feeling well and remarked that her eyes had changed color. She went into the washroom and looked in the reflective glass and there, staring back at her, was a pair of strange golden eyes. She knew enough about healing to know she wasn’t sick.

She stayed with her father and uncle for a couple more weeks but decided to travel to another town to see if anyone knew why her eyes had changed their color. Her father gave her 5 daggers and all the money he had saved. She traveled from town to town and all she received were closed doors and whispers behind her back about darkfriends. Three weeks after she’d left her father, she awoke from her bedroll to the sound of wolves howling in the distance, only it came from inside her head, not out in the woods. She was alone and scared and that day found an Inn keeper who took pity on her and let her stay.

She was in a town but not sure where and was too scared to leave the Inn. After three days of hiding there, a young man came in. He looked regal and introduced himself to her. Lord Damian D’amante, the son of a prominent businessman. He was not startled by her eyes but intrigued. After a short time together she fell in love with him and he loved her in return but had a hard time with the fact that she was drawn to the woods. She had started constantly leaving the town to go into the woods alone as it was the only place she could find real comfort. Then they came.

She was walking in the woods one day and they stepped out from behind some trees ahead of her. One was a beautiful white color with shockingly blue eyes, and the other was solid black with golden eyes. She hadn’t been paying attention to where she was going and they startled her. Miriana fell backwards and landed on her backside hard then started to scramble away from the wolves. Then it came to her all of a sudden and in a rush. She saw an image of these wolves and one other traveling, images that told her they wouldn’t hurt her. Images of men and woman traveling alongside the wolves as friends. Then she looked at the black wolf and saw the eyes for the first time. Her own eyes stared back at her. Then came the image of a beautiful red rose blooming in a field in the dark of night. It was her name… Night Rose. The other was Seieran (blue eyes). And the third, the one, not with them but close by, was Watcher.

When Damian learned of the wolves he was not happy. She went out daily to spend time with them and learned that they could communicate. She finally understood that this was her destiny… but she loved Damian. Maybe, if he understood, she could have them both. Then one day Damian asked her to marry him but there was the condition that she had to leave the wolves behind and become his completely. Even though she loved him, she couldn’t do that. She walked away from him and left that day with the wolves. This was how she got her name… and that is the image the wolves send
to describe her… a woman walking away from a man to embrace two wolves…. WolfLover.

Not long after leaving, she discovered she was with child. WolfLover went back to her father’s home. The place was empty, abandoned. She left again not wanting to be there alone and she started to travel again. She found her uncle and he told her that her father had passed away some time ago from the same illness that took her mother and sister. WolfLover decided to stay with her uncle until she gave birth to her child. They moved to the base of the Mountains of Mist where she gave birth to a boy and named him Tanis. Her uncle built them a cabin and then, being a traveler, left when Tanis was only 3 months old. However, life became harder and harder for her as the wolf inside her demanded control. She felt the life of her child was in danger and so, just 4 months before his first turn, she decided he deserved a better life than she could provide and gave him to a couple passing through Baerlon. Only four short weeks after giving up her child, the Wheel decided to spin yet another turn of unexpected events at her.

A stranger came to her lonely little cabin in the mountains. He had a medium build, black hair and carried a short sword at his side. He calmly approached but kept his distance when WolfLover began to take a defensive stance. He was better trained and they both knew it but a fight was the last thing on his mind. He was there to help her. He called her by the name the wolves called her and she let him in a bit closer until she saw his eyes. She was startled to say the least. Then Seieran told her ~~like you, a brother~~ . She asked the man who he was and what he wanted and he introduced himself as Luos Carnich. He told her about the Stedding and of others like them. A family so to speak. He asked her to come with him. She was welcome among them and they would train her. She was reluctant at first but finally she agreed.

She arrived at the Stedding just after her 19th turn. A very eager student, she quickly moved up the ranks. Her background in healing helped her and they worked on the rest of the skills she had begun when she was young and, by her 24th turn, she had become a full Sage. A year later, the leader of the Sages fell ill and before he died, he passed the leadership on to WolfLover. Training her ‘prentice’s became her passion and she also continued her own education. Ten turns later, just after her 35th birthday, the plague struck.

Striking the elderly and the young the hardest meant she lost a lot of her friends. One of those was Danella Darksbane, the current Pack Leader, despite all her efforts to be strong and put on a good face for the others. Before she passed on however, she passed the duty of Pack Leader on to one of WolfLover’s most prominent students, a young man by the name of Aldazar. WolfLover agreed with the choice having had time to get to know him. She knew he was suited for the job.

WolfLover was very private and keeps her past to herself. Very few knew that she had a child, who would now be about 24 turns, and she had only let two Wolfkin get close to her. She found her child among the Band of the Red Hand a few years ago but lost him again when events separated them. She worked hard to rebuild the Sages, taking in all those who wanted to learn and becoming known as a motherly figure to the youngest of the new ‘kin. She was happy to accept that role until the war with the Trollocs changed her path.

Telnor, her most prized student, took on the role of Sage Leader when WolfLover stepped down after losing the love of her life to the war. Being the oldest of the ‘kin left alive, and the strongest healer and dreamer, fear began to grip WolfLover as she became plagued by strange visitations in the Dream. She felt as if she was losing control and felt the best course of action was to leave the Stedding so that she would not become a threat. If she had stayed, many Wolfkin would have died by her hand.

She had planned to travel and find her son again before she laid down her life and moved on to Walk the Dream. However, just a few days travel from the Stedding, accompanied by her very dear friend Darren, she discovered that she was with child. Plans changed and she traveled to a long time friend, Riverwind, who lived a life of seclusion. Darren followed her and together the three of them built a home and stayed together like a Pack. WolfLover, suffering from the dreams, was lost for a time but Riverwind helped her regain control of the Dream while he and Darren both helped her move past her grief from losing Aragorn.

3 ½ years after the birth of her twins she feels a call to return to the Stedding. With the children in tow, she makes the long trek to the Mountains of Mist and the Stedding hidden there.

Beginner

Leopard in the Tree

A preliminary form, begun with both hands on the hilt of the sword, knees bent, and leaning forward in a ready position. This form is used to prepare for Unfolding the Fan or another such drawing technique.

Unfolding the Fan

The exact opposite of Folding the Fan. Can be used as an opener, since this form can unsheathe the sword and stroke at the same time. Can also be used if caught off guard or in an awkward position.

Folding the Fan

The sword sheathing technique. The blade is smoothly swung around from guard stance and sheathed, all in one motion

Lion on the Hill

A basic guard stance, with the sword held at shoulder height ready to battle.

Arc of the Moon

A simple slash, meant to take off an opponent’s head. Probably begins at midbody level, arcs to neck, and ends back at guard stance

The Courtier Taps his Fan

A quick, powerful overhand blow, meant to split the head. A good move for anyone to have in his repertoire.

The Falcon Stoops

An abbreviated version of The Kingfisher Takes a Silverback. A quick overhand thrust, returning to a guard position just as quickly.

The Grapevine Twines

A circular motion when blades are locked, used to disarm an opponent.

Heron Wading in the Rushes

IMPORTANT: This form should only be used for practicing balance. It is possible to use this form in combat, but it is highly likely you will receive your opponent’s weapon in your chest before you take his head. A horizontal, pivoting slash done on one foot. Begun at shoulder or head height.

Parting the Silk

A more controlled slash, probably used as a precision block or strike. Directed at the abdomen, a good move to draw first blood or inflict nonlethal damage to an opponent.

Hummingbird Kisses the Honeyrose

A quick thrust in the face. Will at least deter an opponent, and will usually kill a charging opponent outright. Blade should start from shoulder height, though it may be performed from any level less quickly.

The Kingfisher Takes a Silverback

Begun while the sword is at shoulder height or higher, a downward stab for the abdomen. Begun when the sword is lower than shoulder height, a downward stab meant to cripple a leg or the groin.

Intermediate

The Boar Rushes Down the Mountain

A verticle slash, but one that can alter course in midswing quickly. Starts high and ends low. Try this with Tower of Morning.

The Creeper Embraces the Oak

A slow, circling stance. The blade goes from high to low and back to constantly offer a new threat and to guard against others. Forms to use out of this: The Falling Leaf, Lightning of the Three Prongs.

The Falling Leaf

A more exaggerated and slower version of The Boar Rushes Down the Mountain. Starting high, the blade sweeps back and forth before reaching its lowest point. Can be used to parry effectively against multiple opponents, or just one. Move from this straight into The River Undercuts the Bank, and you’ve got an effective pair.

The Heron Spreads its Wings

The operational version of Heron Wading in the Rushes. A tighter cut, concentrated in one sector of the arc of the sword.

Leaf Floating in the Breeze

A horizontal guard position with a form similar to The Falling Leaf. The blade will move up and down according to the threat while moving horizontally to offer new threats. A good basic form. Attacks from this position should include Lightning of Three Prongs and Lizard in the Thornbush.

Lightning of Three Prongs

Beginning from a basic stance like Lion on the Hill, a thrust that can either continue as a thrust or slash to either side. Can also be used to parry.

Low Wind Rising

Can be done from almost any stance even sitting. A diagonal slash, beginning low and rising cleanly. May be used to return to a guard stance after a form such as The Grapevine Twines or Lightning of Three Prongs.

Moon Rises Over the Water

A vertical arc after a horizontal, tentative slash. The blade should begin and end in the same position near the waist.

Ribbon in the Air

A horizontal slash that may change direction up or down at the tail end. Should be begun just below chest thrust. Both feet should be used in this form, unlike Heron forms.

The River Undercuts the Bank

Can be done from a kneeling or standing position. A horizontal slash, used to disembowel or behead.

The Swallow Takes Flight

Basically, Low Wind Rising followed by a short thrust. The form is angled more toward the opponent, though, so that the opening slash is more a guard for the thrust.

The Swallow Rides the Air

The usual followup move to The Swallow Takes Flight, though it does not need to be done that way. A fast, short swiping motion that won’t behead someone but might slit their throat.

Tower of Morning

A verticle slash, starting low and ending high. I’d pair this one with Board Rushes Down the Mountain or The Courtier Taps His Fan.

Advanced

Apple Blossoms in the Wind

A versatile technique, intended for use against an ambush by multiple opponents. The blade is held low, but ready for use in a number of strike forms. Keep loose and move slowly.

Bundling Straw

Several quick chest-level thrusts, followed by an arc and a paired return arc that should return the blade to a guard stance. Try this against a quarterstaff opponent.

The Cat Dances on the Wall

A feinting, tentative series of short slashes, thrusts, and parries. The swordsman must have good wrists and quick feet for this to be effective. Useful for buying time.

Cat on Hot Stand

A faster, less tentative version of The Cat Dances on the Wall. Better for multiple opponents.

Lizard in the Thornbush

Used expressly against two opponents. One thrust to the chest, then pivot and kneel with either a thrust or a slash, usually a thrust. Good mid-level technique; most veteran-level soldiers have mastered this form.

Stones Falling from the Cliff

The medium difficulty version of Boar Rushes Down the Moutain. A good mainstay of a battle, this form is useful for both parrying and attacking. The sword should begin at least at shoulder height and come down.

Striking the Spark

A rapid series of powerful overhand blows, best begun on the return swing of a slash like Low Wind Rising or The Heron Spreads Its Wings. If you’ve got stamina this can win a battle for you.

Thistledown Floats on the Whirlwind

A short-range jumping spin-swipe, used for beheading. Best if done by surprise. An opening move in most cases. The sword should not move more than a foot or so; the main force is provided by the spin of the body. The blade should be close to the body, approximately chest high.

Twisting in Wind

For use in a tight situation, when one is outnumbered. A quick, continual rotation of the body, using slashes and short thrusts to counter or attack as the situation dictates.

Water Flows Downhill

A more complicated form of The Boar Rushes Down the Moutain. This form can and will change direction in midstroke; only the more advanced swordsmen use this form. Like its name, it takes the easiest route from high to low, avoiding contact with the other weapon while seeking its target.

Whirlwind on the Mountain

A form of Thistledown Floats on the Whirlwind, except done while remaining on the ground. Can be modified for use for striking uphill or downhill simply by changing the angle of the spin.

Wind and Rain

Another complicated form. Begun with either Low Wind Rising or Parting the Silk, this form follows throught with multiple short thrusts or quick overhead blows.

The Wood Grouse Dances

Similar to the Cat Dances on the Wall, but from a more stationary point. Mainly to feel out an enemy, more than to do serious harm.

Specialised

Sheathing the Sword

More of a concept than a sword form, this is used when what you can gain is greater than or equal to what you may lose in the process of gaining it. This might be using Heron Wading in the Rushes like Rand Al’Thor, or it might be using Lizard in the Thornbush to take down two major opponents when you know a third, less important one is coming up behind you.

World Herbs and Properties

Combinations and their Effects

Good for both navigating the seas and finding ones way on land, the stars in the sky form a number of constellations that may help you find your way.  Or would if we actually knew their particular details, but nevertheless they may prove handy enough to weave into an RP or two.  The main one you’ll want is the Three Geese, always pointing north.

The Traveller (holding a staff)
The Haywain
The Cup
The Five Sisters
The Ram
Three Geese (reference for north – the geese point the way)
The Stag
The Archer
The Shield (sometimes referred to as Hawking’s Shield)
The Plowman
The Blacksmith
The Snake (sometimes referred to as The Dragon – mostly by the Aiel and Borderlanders)

Character Name: Keyl ay’Dahl

Email address: darkjeedei[at]hotmail[dot]com

Physical Description: Keyl is 16 summers 5′8 and 160lbs. He has water blue eyes and long brown hair.

Place of Birth/Raising: Keyl was born and raised in a small farming town in northern Andor.

Character History:

Keyl was born to a small family of farmers in a small farming village. As he grew older he was a normal child. He helped his parents harvest and sell their crops. At the age of thirteen Keyl began to see things extremely well. He told his father who made him swear to be silent and never speak of it. At the age of fourteen Keyl began having dreams of wolves. Hunting, running, and even just sitting. On the day after his sixteenth summer he had been sent into the village to gather things for the harvesting season. As he entered into the small blacksmiths hut everything went silent. As he passed awkwardly by the people in the space he could feel their gazes on his back and heard whispers follow him.

As he approached the blacksmith a large fist connected to the side of his head. The world seemed to tilt and the next thing he knew he was being carried and was bodily thrown to the ground outside the small hut. Picking himself up Keyl ran all the way to his house. As he entered calling for his mother and father he heard shouts and the sound of many horses approaching. At that point Keyl knew there was only one thing he could do to protect his family.

Running out of the front of his house he made strait for the forest on the opposite side of the pact dirt road. If he could only make it there before an arrow found him all would be well. He could live in the woods. He heard more shouts and an arrow met the ground just behind him. More arrows filled the air as he dove behind the cover of trees that began the large forest. Keyl ran for what seemed ours until he heard no more sign of followers.

As he lay against a tree utterly exhausted he began to cry. “What could possibly bring so much hate?” he howled.

Character name: Chamblin Rugarth

DM Handle: Doselan

Email Address: doselan[at]yahoo[dot]com

Physical Description: 5’ 10”, 185, hazel, brown, broad shoulders but only average build, angular face, rough callused hands)

Place of Birth/Raising: Small farm in north eastern Murandy, close to the Road that runs between Caemlyn to Lugard

Character History:

Cham first started to notice the changes at the age of seventeen. When he would finish his chores on the farm, he and his brothers would go hunting for rabbits and other small game. Cham had always been the better tracker, but one day he actually found himself being able to track an animal by smell, it was that same day that he shot a rabbit with his long-bow from a near impossible distance. His brothers had not even been aware that the animal was there. As they approached the dying creature, Cham’s brothers were allowing loud exclamations about what a wonderful shot he was, but he hardly noticed for it was at this time that he noticed another smell coming from the animal, a smell that chilled him to the bone yet exhilarated him at the same time; the rotten stink of mortal fear. A grim smile cut across his face as he sliced the animal’s throat with his belt knife.

Later that week, at dinner, he had been eating some of his mothers beef stew. It was his favorite dish and he would always exclaim over how he would kill for it; but he never thought he meant it. Everyone had finished their first bowl and he quickly got in line for seconds, however just as he was about to finish off the pot, his brother, Tad, knocked him to the side and grabbed the spoon and began scraping the bottom of the large black cauldron with an ear wrenching sound that no-one else seemed to hear. Cham fixed a stare cold as death on his brother, and was surprised but not distracted by a sudden low growl that bubbled up from deep in his throat.

“That is mine,” he said with a voice like ice.

“Not the way I see it.” his brother replied, with an arrogant smirk. Cham had always been picked on by Tad, as he was an older and significantly larger brother. Tad had now stopped scraping and was staring at him. Cham felt more focused than he ever had in his life.

“What, Cham?” Tad said sarcastically, “You gonna cry?”

Without a moments notice, Cham leapt at his brother and snapped his teeth around his jugular. Luckily, his dull teeth did nothing to break the skin before the other family members pulled him off of the, now terrified, young man.

“What have you gone insane?” Cham’s father yelled, “You were biting him for the Light’s sake!” The grizzled old farmer bent down to check on his son, who was now breathing quite raggedly, “Go to bed right now Cham!”

Cham walked into the room slowly and quietly shut the door behind him. What in the bloody light just happened? He asked himself. He had never attacked one of his kin before and he would never, ever try to kill one of them! Light! What was happening to him?

He sat on his bed, put his elbows on his knees, and steepled his fingers in front of his nose. Sitting there in the dark, he… The dark? Was it dark? It had to be dark outside by this time of night, however it appeared to him to be like dusk all around the inside of the room. All of a sudden, voices from the common area of the house were being carried to him. Voices of encouragement to Tad to, “Stay with us,” and “keep breathing.”

Cham’s heart was trying to beat out of his chest. Suddenly he heard a small gurgling sound and all fell silent until his mother let out a wailing cry. Cham shot to his feet and a sudden flood of sadness hit him all at once. Then, most unexpectedly, he threw back his head and let out a long, sad howl. Once finished, he dropped his head and let it hang there even as he heard the heavy footsteps of his father coming towards his room.

The door burst open and he heard his father scream, “You’ve killed ‘em, Cham! You’ve killed your oldest brother! You should be ashamed, the Light burn you!”

Cham just stood there with his head down and his eyes closed.

“You bloody look at me, boy!” His father screamed. He could hear his mothers whimpers and sniffs from the common area. Cham just kept his head down. Suddenly his father rushed over to him and grabbed him by the jaw and pulled his head upwards, “I said look at…” His father cut off abruptly as Cham opened his eyes.

“Mother’s milk in a cup, this can’t be,” his father muttered disheartened as he backed away from him slowly.

“What father?” Cham’s question fell on deaf ears as his father sank back further towards the doorway.

“My very own son is a darkfriend!”

“No, father! I promise I am not! It was all an accident!”

“Shut your mouth! You bloody shut it! No son of mine is a darkfriend!”

“Father! What are you…” Cham took a step towards his father.

“Back away, boy!”

“Father, please!” Will pleaded.

When his father next spoke it was in a low voice of resolve, “Chamblin Rugarth died tonight with his brother. You’ll have a grave too boy. Right next to ‘em. Now you get out of here and don’t ever let me see your face again.” Cham stood there dumbfounded. “I said go!” Without another moment’s notice, Cham ran past his father and ran out of the door without a glance at anyone. He ran past the barn and into the woods. As he dodged around trees and large stones, pictures began forming in his mind. Pictures that his mind seemed to want to piece together. The first picture was one of a wolf standing in an ankle deep stream with mist surrounding him. Smokey Stream. He shook his head as he continued running, trying to get the pictures out of his mind. He thought the following pictures were meaning to say things like, “This two-legs can hear us,” or, “do not frighten him.”

Soon he had run until he could run no more. He came to a stop in front of a small pond that was close to five miles away from the farm. He sank to his knees and began to weep, allowing his tears to drip down into the water of the pond. Once he was able to calm himself, he opened his eyes and caught his reflection in the pond and came to find what he knew, somewhere in the back of his mind, would be staring back at him. A wolf’s yellow eyes had replaced his own. He stared in amazement as they seemed to glow inside his head.

For the second time in his life, he threw back his head and howled.

Name:  Anton Averdal
Gender: Male
Age: 36

Physical Description:  5’4”, 78kg, soft green eyes flecked with brown and a head of dark curly hair.  Sharp yet tanned features and a few scars courtesy of his travels, he possesses a wiry strength and fitness that one can see from his slim figure.  Usually shrouded in a patched travelling cloak, he dresses for comfort and utility rather than show

History:   The result of a particularly festive Feast of Lights on his mother’s part, Anton was born into the world for no more than a few minutes before the strain of his birth snapped his mother’s thread upon the wheel.  The mistress of the inn that his mother had worked for, Mistress Elin, adopted him into her own extensive family and gave him the name his mother had chosen for him before she’d passed on into the Creator’s embrace.

Life was good for Anton as a child, growing up he did chores with his fellow step-siblings that needed doing in the inn, and when he had time to himself he was free to run wild in the streets as her own kids did, and Foregate when Mistress Elin soon became used to him disappearing when he wasn’t needed.  Playing with the kids in Foregate he ended up picking up a lot of tricks he otherwise would never have learnt, that much was certain.

Living and working at an inn also brought Anton into contact with all manner of traveller from just about every nation.  Combined with the stories and tales of gleemen, Anton’s natural wanderlust was in the perfect environment to be encouraged and developed.  It also proved to be a good place to pick up the basics of the lute and fiddle though a decent tune on the flute would always prove to be elusive.

As he got older he also began to take a liking to the fairs that would be held outside the city.  All sorts of contests were held from wrestling to archery and melees and all sorts of entertainers came to the one spot to make a living that often came from different nations.  Since Anton could not travel, the carnivals were the next best thing and he often used to enter the competitions as other kids did of his age.

While he was no prize winner, practicing with his friends at Foregate and taking pointers from some of the friendlier competitors soon found Anton being able to hold his own.  Mainly with a staff, though he could rough it with his fists or play a round of daggers to win a bet.  Combined with his education in the finer arts such as letters from Mistress Elin and dancing at the inn, he was growing into a strapping young lad with knowledge in a bit of everything.  By the time he was seventeen he felt the urge more strongly than ever to travel, he wanted to see more than Cairhien which he already knew intimately well.

It was then that a girl caught his eye, as girl’s happen to for seventeen year olds.  Sara was a sweet girl who could make any man look twice and in Anton’s case looked whenever she was about.  Certainly, she was enough to make Anton forget his wanderlust for a time as he fell head over heels for her.  Anton managed to become friends with her, but that was all she was willing to be.  It was something Anton couldn’t see, but there was little to be done for it but for events to take their course.

In this case, she fell for one of his friends and the two began taking ‘walks’ together.  As brave a face as Anton put on it, he was cut fairly deeply, as adolescents are wont to be when they’re no longer the centre of attention.  Not wanting to see the girl of his dreams falling deeper and deeper in love with his friend, and not wanting to hurt either of them, he took an option which his returning wanderlust made easy for him.

Many years later on the road, attending the Caemlyn Carnival in fact, Anton was there for the Bubble of Evil that would etch itself in his memory forever.  Sometime after, while he was in Tarabon, the images in his mind and the dreams of a wolvish existance drove him mad.  Having met Wolfkin before, even visited their stedding, he thought himself mad because the ability within him had not been found.  But, he was found by a Tracker named Janna and brought to the Stedding for he had indeed manifested as one of the Wolfkin.

Training under Burrich, he soon became a Tracker in his own right to help those who were coming into their gifts.  When Janna stepped down as the leader of the Trackers, it was Anton who was chosen to take her place and now he acts as the leader for all Trackers amongst the Wolfkin even as he makes his way around the world, wandering much like he did before but now with greater purpose.