<div class="floatleft">(https://i.pinimg.com/564x/be/31/7d/be317d04650c159e24fe4275c1f3cd7b.jpg)<br/>(https://i.pinimg.com/564x/ba/bd/72/babd72e756f4aff720ff4588b99afcfd.jpg)</div><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 14pt;"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: georgia;"><strong>Taran Wulftarn</strong></span></span><br/>Male Human Barbarian<br/>Sexual Preference: Mostly hetero<br/><strong>Sheet:</strong>https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=1438360<br/><hr/><br/><strong>Background:</strong>Taran hails from the Tribe of the Wolf among the Reghedmen of the far north. There was nothing particularly special about his birth. He was the third child and second son of Olv Issverd's second wife, Marka; two more daughters would follow, a large family for the Reghedmen near the glacier. They lived as their ancestors, hunting in the summer, ice fishing for the grayling in the winter, and trading ivory south to Ten-Towns every so often.<br/>Growing up, battle was not unknown to Taran; besides his older brother and his friends constantly roughhousing to "toughen him up," there were frequent raids from goblins on the tundra, among worse foes. The first battle, Taran felt fear burn in his heart, and that fear led to a friend of his dying when the goblin - a clean shot for Taran - stuck a spear in poor Ulli's belly. Filled with shame, Taran sought advice from the tribe's shaman and older warriors. From them he learned practical strategies, and of Tempos, specifically the wolf cult of the war-cod his own tribe held in esteem.<br/>Some years later, when Taran was entering his seventeenth winter, a stranger fell into the camp; literally, a young female elf crashed through the packed snow roofing the winter lodge, wounded too badly to describe. She babbled in her elvish tongue, and before she died, she passed something into the nearest hand; Taran's. It was a leather tube that held parchments so ancient that the edges crumbled to the touch.<br/>That night, the shamans howled for the dead elf, a stranger to their camp that they could not help, and comissioned her to the snows, to be covered in stones when the snows ceased. But Queldu-kellaith, the eldest of the shaman, poked a bony finger into Taran's chest, and proclaimed him Chosen. He had been chosen by hte spirits, and the ghost of this dying elf, to fulfill some mission. He could not rest until he did so.<br/>At next light, the young man left the lodgehouse, and began the trek south. Surely someone knows what the elf's words meant, or could find the owner of these scrolls! He no longer felt fear; The tattoos on his back, given to him all through the night, imbued him with the spirit's blessing and made him a<em>Raseri</em>, a spirit warrior!<br/><br/><strong>Description:</strong>Taran is an unusual sight in the southlands; Tall, strong-armed, and with a confident gait of a man who has never knelt before a southern king. He wears his long silver-blonde hair loose, the wavy locks falling over his neck and shoulders, sometimes set with feathers or charms. Despite his height and thew, his cheeks and chin are smooth, which with his curious blue eyes, give him a boyish look. His garb outside of battle is simple enough, favoring little more than a caribou-hide kilt and boots in warm weather, showing off his firm muscles and smooth chest, and in winter, comfortable furs and leggings to keep the cold out but not restrict movement too much. On his adventures he wears a jerkin of oiled leather set with steel rivets and a kilt of metal-ringed leather flaps, of clear southern make. The greatsword he carries is of clear dwarven make as well, austere but beautiful in its well-crafted lines.<br/><br/><strong>Persona</strong>Taran is not used to southern customs and beliefs, and does not think he ever will be. Despite that, he's very curious about them; he is after all, a visitor in their camps, and it's only polite to try to do things their way - except of course when it would anger his own ancestors. He has all the curiosity and exuberance and... stamina of a strong young man, and sees himself as a proud warrior of a proud warrior people; other Reghedmen might roll their eyes about that back home, but here in the south, it's true enough! despite his ability to rage, he is not surly or angry (at least, eh doesn't think so); rather, the Rage is a blessing of his god Tempos to aid him in battle. At every civilized stop, he asks locals who seem they might know, what the meaning of a particular phrase is. The trouble is, the phrase is in an archaic elvish dialect, and Taran doesn't even have the slightest grasp on modern elvish, and keeps mangling the phrase. Oh well!<br/><br/><strong>Sexuality:</strong>Taran is a lusty young man with a very healthy interest in the opposite sex - And maybe sometimes a little curiosity about his own, and the spectrum between. The prevailing wisdom among his tribe's men is that a woman shouldn't have to ask you twice. In terms of race, well, let's just put it this way; back home, the goblins are sworn enemies, but here in the southlands, he doesn't know<em>these</em>goblins. Might be worth a try... that is, he sees no reason to be picky over willing partners based on the shape of their ears or snouts or what-have you.