His story begins rather plainly. Born the only child of a pair of
trappers, hunters both mother and father. His fondest memories are that of
stalking a dear under the watchful eye of his father. Or catching that
rabbit in his first successful trap. His village was on the fringe of
nowhere. Occasional goblin raids, and other disturbances were dealt with by
the hunters of the village. They were used to danger, and thus feared
nothing from the the wild-lands. That did not mean they didn't respect them
though. He was taught at an early age that preparation was everything. One
night everything changed, it was one of their rare night hunts. A big cat
was killing livestock in the area. It had to be hunted down, but so far no
one had been able to find it. It was an uneasy decision to hunt it under
the full moon and one that Tordin would come to regret. They were tracking
the first sign they had seen and appeared to be hours behind it, when it
happened. The cat was the biggest cat he had ever seen and the markings
were impossible to make out in the dark. His father got two arrows into it
before it reached him and then there was nothing but a mist of blood.
Tordin remembered burning pain across his chest and then nothing. Wounded
badly he lay there feverish for days hanging onto life. Eventually one of
the search parties found him, as well as the remains of his parents.
Nursing him back to health he was distraught. He was barely healed when the
next full moon struck. The change took him when he was hunting for the cat
that no one had seen since. He woke the next day naked and bloodied. His
wounds were healed and he lay in the oozing corpse of a dear the taste of
blood in his mouth. Horrified he fled his home. Alone in the wilderness he
tried to come to terms with his new reality. He was alone for months before
he was found again. The man who had tracked him down was unlike any he had
seen before. There was a wildness to him, a sense of danger he had only
felt one time before. Before he could flee the man bade him to wait. It
was then his real training began. Learning what he was he set out to master
the beast rather than let it master him. More than a year later found him
ready to set out on his own again. He would not return to his home again...
His curse... It would be his salvation.
Description:
Silver eyes peer out from beneath his mop of unruly black hair. His
browned skin, obviously tanned from many days under the sun is smooth with
youth. Sticking out from his face, his nose appears slightly large for his
black hair dotted with silver in spite of his young age. High cheekbones,
and a wide Jaw, with a strange tribal pendant hanging face. Several days
growth of beard cover his face the around his neck. Tall yet lean, he
appears underweight as if he had been living off the land and not had enough
to eat lately... Longish arms, with leather bands on his wrists to guard
them from his bowstrings. Lastly his boots appear to be made of soft
doeskin, or something similar.
[reply to Nadrin]