The Northlands Saga

Game Master Nilihist

I grew up on the east coast but I now live in Las Vegas. My first tabletop RPG experience was in '92 with AD&D 2e, and I've been in love with the hobby ever since. Though my biggest collection is of Pathfinder material, I thoroughly enjoy collecting sourcebooks, modules, gaming aids (cards, initiative counters, etc) from any edition of D&D and a handful of other games. I find myself dreaming up schemes, plots, interesting NPCs all day long, in hopes that I'll be able to integrate them someday into one of my games.

My wife and I love to paint minis, especially for a PC or NPC that will be used in an upcoming game. I am currently GMing a Pathfinder Dark Sun game for some friends, and a PbP game here on the Paizo website. I am playing in one other game here on Paizo and it has been a blast.

I love the themes behind this Northlands campaign and I hope that I am fortunate enough to be chosen for your group.

Helle Stinar is a sorcerer of the cunning woman archetype. She will choose mostly choose spells that buff the party and a few so can defend herself and others. She prefers to summon things to fight for her. She is living in Silvermead Hall to train with the current cunning woman.

She’s from a village that didn’t like her much. She automatically assumes people don’t like her the first time she meets them.

She is loyal to people who have proven to be friends. If you are kind to those weaker than yourself, she’ll warm quickly. She’s a healer so she has a soft heart.

Human
20 years old
Long dark brown hair
One brown eye, one green eye
Short about 5’4”, and “sturdy” but curvy
She prefers greens and browns that blend in with the areas around her home

Helle Stinar opens her eyes. It’s not quite dawn, but another busy day is beginning. She rises gets dressed and snaps her fingers starting the fire in the hearth. Putting the kettle of water above the fire, she sits in the flickering light and brushes out her long dark brown hair. She prefers to brush it out by hand instead of using magic. In those few minutes of quiet before the day begins, she meditates on what brought her to Silvermead Hall.

The people in the village Helle grew up in always thought she was different, and not in a good way. With her one brown eye and one green eye, the expected her to hex them or curse their animals. She sighs at this memory. Like I’d ever hurt a defenseless animal. I would be more likely to hex the town bullies, and I almost always refrained from that. Summoning a small fluffy beast when she was six just proved to them she was touched by the devil, and they wanted to throw her out of town.

Luckily her grandmother Eira was the local cunning woman, and respected in the village. She pointed out to the villagers that even though Helle’s father wasn’t from the area did not mean that he was a devil who left his spawn to destroy them all. Her family history has a few cunning woman in it, but not many. They hadn’t had one born since her grandmother, and before Eira it had been a couple generations. The villagers liked to conveniently forget that piece of history.

When Helle was fifteen things in the village got much worse. The women started accusing her of trying to seduce the local men. It was her mother that was doing all the seducing, but that didn’t matter. Eira saw that Helle would one day be a powerful sorcerer, and a great healer. Helle wouldn’t have that chance if she stayed where she was. She sent Helle to another cunning woman Odi in Silvermead Hall for training. For five years she’s been Odi’s mentee learning about the arts of healing.

Helle smiles as she thinks about how much she likes searching the woods for herbs, and tending the large garden required is a joy. She’s alone most of the time, and that’s nice. Helle finishes pulling her hair into a neat bun, pours the boiling water on the tea leaves to steep, and calls out “Odi, time to get up. The day is starting, and it’s your turn to cook breakfast.”

I’ve just begun role playing in the last two years. I didn’t have much chance when I was younger. What I love about role playing is building off what others say and do, it makes the adventure richer for the collaboration. I prefer the stories that are created over the “crunch” of the character. My favorite characters are ones that have something about them people remember. I currently play a Bard in a home game. She doesn’t like to get dirty and we are in a dungeon. She rides around on a floating disk to keep away from the muck. She also can’t sing well. They put up with her singing because they need her. I am not a min maxer. If it doesn’t fit with the theme even though it might be the most powerful, I won’t chose it for my character.

I am going with a Winter Witch who will specialize in...I honestly don't know, I am still combing through the witches spell list. I suppose if chosen I can fill in some holes the party may need. She is a long forgotten member of one of the high houses of Halfstead taken away at an early age and raised by her "Father" the druid Turon

Background: Alfhildr didn't cry. She was wondering why, because her world seemed to be coming apart. But right now she felt more dazed than anything. Three weeks ago her best friend had left. The friend she had grown up with, the friend alongside whom she had become a witch, the friend who... she refused herself, like so many times before, to think this thought to an end.

She was sitting at the edge a rock plateau at the slopes of the Byeshk Mountains, overlooking her homeland. It was a sacred meeting place of the witches for countless generations, and it wasn't easy to reach, unless you could fly or knew a secret passage along with a secret word. She knew she should leave, but the wind and the open sky up here gave her comfort. It almost felt like a calling...

The witches of her coven had expelled her. She knew damn well that she had been a little capricious lately and it was true that she had been unnecessarily confrontational during the celebration of the circle. But this aggressive attitude the other witches displayed against the people of Annwn , was just wrong. Of course it was their right to defend themselves, but turning their backs on simple villagers, even harassing them just because they took what the chieftans inquisitors had to offer was outright wrong. She wasn't naive. The Chief would always hunt witches, but still she thought it wisest to find an agreement; not for the purpose of harmony, love, bunnies and flowers, but simply a status quo to leave each other in peace, look to the side and maybe help each other out every now and then. There was no need to love each other, she just wanted to avoid going to each other's throat. These lands were dangerous enough without needless infighting.

Her opposition had been noticed. As she insisted, and not exactly in kind words, to not throw curses at everyone who deals with an inquisitor, but to try and give the people reason to confide in the witches again... she was expelled. Maybe that was the reason, why Callandra, her best friend who shared many opinion with Alfhildr, had left. Or part of it. Well, Alfhildr knew the true reason.

Zharon, the hare from the spirit world who had chosen her as companion, brushed against her legs. He had noticed something she hadn't. But that fact alone and the emotions she received from the beast told her who was coming.

Hello, dad. She said and tried to sound a bit more cheery than she felt. In a way it was all his fault. He was just too good. No man could possibly live up to him. Then again, that was exactly the kind of thinking that got her into trouble during the coven's meeting. She smiled, a bit sad, but there it was.

Hello, beautiful. Let me guess, they didn't like what you had to say. He stepped out of the tree group at another edge of the plateau and now she could hear his steps. Of course only because he wanted her to, as a wise and experienced druid he could pass anywhere unseen if he wanted to.

She replied in a self-parodying, mocking tone: The tongue of her, who ever repeats the words of the coven in the face of those who are not of witch blood, shall fall off and crumble as nothing but foulness comes from it. That was a quote from the rules of the witches she was - had been - bound to. She laughed dryly at the silly sound of her own words and turned around to look at her father. Damn, he was still good looking, even as a sixty-two year old. "No, dad, not one bit. They even labeled me a traitor and a whore, as though I was selling out to the inquisitors. She sighed. And they found out about my dragon mark. I don't think they'll ever let me in the circle again. I am not sure I want to.

Turon, her father, arched his head slightly. And you never did any of which they accused you of?

Well, if there was one drawback to have such a wise, handsome man for a father, who actually cared so much... it was that even if you could fool yourself, you couldn't fool him.

That was different she replied somewhat shaken. Yes, we did convince him to leave our lands alone in the end, but it isn't... well, he was a nice guy and it's not like he bought us.

He was a minion of the Jarl and an inquisitor.

You of all people should know that you can't simply reduce a person to a crude concept like that! Alfhildr replied as her anger grew, but the knowing smile in her father's face told her that she had walked into a trap.

Exactly. You know there is more to you than this. Turon gestured around the meeting place of the circle. You know that there is an aspect of you have never dared to explore.

What do you mean? For a moment she was completely at a loss where he was getting at.

You call yourself Alfhildr, the Witch. But you know as well as I do that your true name is Alfhildr Bonde.

Alfhildr was shocked. She despised the high houses, their greedy influence, the way they snuck into everything. It took her a moment until her mouth was able to form some words at all: I... You cannot... but... You don't think any different about the houses than I do! She touched the dragon mark butween her shoulders, rubbed it, as though she could rub it off.

But that's the point, isn't it? Houses are made of people. And people are more than the crude concepts you and I may have of a house member. You can try to run from the fact, you can try hide, but in the end it will always catch up with you: You're a Bonde. If you truly want to ever understand what you are you need to embrace your own name.

Names had power. A witch should know that better than a druid. She felt even more dazed than she had before and sparks were spinning in front of her eyes. But he was right, hardly anything was keeping her here anymore. Not the circle, not Callandra. Her lips moved but it took some time until she got the word out.Halfstead she whispered. She looked straight at her father again. Will you be alright? She walked her own path for ten years, and both of them walked in secret circles the respective other one wasn't part of. But they had never been separated for long.

I couldn't possibly be more proud than by knowing my daughter faces her destiny.

Goodbye dad. I... I just don't wanna think about it too much. I need to leave now. She walked up to him and give him a kiss on the cheek. Then she turned around, grabbed Zharon and left the mountain for the last time.

Turon looked over the edge and just caught his daughter waving a last goodbye before she disappeared in the forest, on her travel for Halfstead.

Well I have been happily married for 14 years this sept. and live in the San Francisco Bay Area. I have been gaming off and on since 1981. I pretty much stuck with D&D exclusively. I enjoy outdoor activities (Biking, Hiking etc.) My true passion is BBQ, Man Do I love to BBQ

A charismatic young rogue, good in diplomacy, bluff, etc. and sneaky ofcourse. Lived alone on the streets and while looking for work he got interested in Olaf's offer for a job or two

Pratavh lost his parents early, because of a fire. First an older couple, Björn and Helene, raised him until he was 9, teaching him maths and writing. At the morning of his 9th birthday he wrote a letter:
Good morning Björn, Helene,
I appreciated your hospitality very much and you have been like parents for me. But i know you have not much for yourself, so its time for me to leave Stavie now. I talked to a fisherman yesterday to take me to Halfstead. So today i will set sail to live my own life, but i wish you both to live long and healthy.
Your Son Pratavh"
Arriving in Halfstead 3 days later the weather was rainy and it was cloudy, so as shy as Pratavh was, his first priority has been to get find anything with something having a top, and most important... he didnt want to be seen. He was afraid of this big city. Within the years he lost his shyness and became pretty good convincing people to give him some food or leftovers. But still he loves to be unseen and live his life on the street, because - as strange as it might sound - Pratavh feels more save hiding somewhere outside, instead of making people know where he is.
Today he is 17 and he knows: society wont accept his way of life, so he can either change it...and become...normal. Or he can use the skills he achieved and work in some different way. Haven't there been a rumor not long a time, that the former Jarl: Olaf Henrikson is looking for some People, who are skilled and got some courage?
Seems like a visit of Silvermeade Hall could pay off.

I am pretty new to Pen&Paper in General and especially to this forum, so there are some terms i dont understand. If someone could write me a personal message what is meant by PbP and how the character creation in here works, i would be really happy. I mean, do you guys create a new account per character?

A charismatic young rogue, good in diplomacy, bluff, etc. and sneaky ofcourse. Lived alone on the streets and while looking for work he got interested in Olaf's offer for a job or two.

I lost my parents early, because of a fire. First an older couple, Björn and Helene, raised me until i was 9, teaching me maths and writing. At the morning of my 9th birthday i wrote a letter:
Good morning Björn, Helene,
I appreciated your hospitality very much and you have been like parents for me. But i know you have not much for yourself, so its time for me to leave Stavie now. I talked to a fisherman yesterday to take me to Halfstead. So today i will set sail to live my own life, but i wish you both to live long and healthy.
Your Son Pratavh"

Arriving in Halfstead 3 days later the weather was rainy and it was cloudy, so as shy as i have been, my first priority was to find anything with something like a top, and most important... i didnt want to be seen. I was afraid of this big city. Within the years i lost his shyness and became pretty good convincing people to give me some food or leftovers. But still i love to be unseen and live my life on the streets, because - as strange as it might sound - i feel more comfortable hiding somewhere outside, instead of making people know where i live.
Today i am 17 and i know: society wont accept my way of life for ever, so i can either change it and become...normal. Or i can use the skills i achieved and work in some different way. Haven't there been a rumor not long time ago, that the former Jarl: Olaf Henrikson is looking for some People, who are skilled and got some courage?
Seems like a visit of Silvermeade Hall could pay off.

I am pretty new to Pen&Paper, but its a lot of fun. I love to act like my character and imagine the world my character acts in. Furthermore i am interested in game mastering, too. But i definitely have not enough experience in this game.
Well, i am studying Geography at the Moment and besides that playing softball and meeting with friends. :)

O∂ørn the Drowned is an Aquatic Druid (Water domain, go figure), a godi dedicated to Rán, the Vanir of shipwrecks, storms, and the sea.

In combat, he will join the fray with his shield-brothers and sisters, wielding shield and spear or occasionally a club, though he occasionally drops back to buff allies or debuff foes with the spells granted to him by the gods.

O∂ørn originally performed his duties as godi aboard a Vastaviklander longship and, as such, would take the Vastaviklander trait.

He will definitely fall into the category of quiet, brooding characters, so he will make use of his high wisdom and charisma to speak only when necessary, rather than constantly spouting off obscure proverbs. As a sailor and warrior, he’ll also have a moderate level of strength and constitution. Dexterity and intelligence will be on the lower side.

Before O∂ørn was called “the Drowned,” he was more frequently known as “the Drunk.” As a godi in training aboard a Vastaviklander longship, he was placed in charge of making the appropriate sacrifices and paying homage to the gods on the ship’s voyages. At the time, O∂ørn was not exactly a devout man, however, and he frequently was in his cups, which lead to him failing in his duties.

On one occasion, the longship he was meant to travel aboard was set to sail out of Halfstead at dawn, but O∂ørn was nowhere to be found. The captain of the ship, a pious, but brutal man named Sigurd, declared that the ship would not depart without its godi on board. The proper sacrifices had to be made. When O∂ørn was eventually found, he was lying face-down in a pig sty, drunk out of his wits. The captain had O∂ørn brought aboard, but took it upon himself to punish the godi for his lack of devotion. He had O∂ørn flogged within an inch of his life, so that his blood would run across the decks of the longship into the sea. “That,” Sigurd had said, “will have to suffice as our sacrifice.”

A few days after they set sail, the ship was beset by a massive storm. Though the captain and crew all strove bravely to weather the storm, the ship was soon lost beneath the waves. A full moon’s turn passed, yet nothing was heard of the ship or any of its occupants. All were presumed dead, taken by the sea as punishment, though none can agree if the punishment was for O∂ørn’s impiety or Sigurd’s presumption to punish a servant of the gods.

Finally, on a black, quiet night when the moon was dark and only the light of the stars shone upon the sea, O∂ørn appeared back at Halfstead, walking out of the sea onto the shore, his hair and beard laced with seaweed and a spear fashioned out of the wreckage of his ship in his hand. From that day on, the powers of the gods have manifested themselves in O∂ørn the Drowned, a godi dedicated to Rán, whose fierce devotion inspires not just faith in the gods, but fear of their powers and of their servant.

Hey there, Nihilist. I’m a fairly new player in search of some additional opportunities to jump into a great story with some interesting characters. I’m currently engaged in one other pbp campaign, but find that I have plenty of time to potentially participate in a second pbp. I’ve been really interested in Norse mythology since I started reading the Thor comics back in college, and I keep looking for more places to explore that culture and find its expressions (e.g., Skyrim, parts of Game of Thrones, certain Tolkien stories, and hopefully your campaign!). As far as play style, I love storytelling, and I love to contribute to the story by role-playing, especially when things get heated.

Character Concept:
Male Human Brawler (Exemplar)
Campaign traits: likely Child of Heroes (his father), Hirdman (or Huscarl, or Gatlander (boat))
His focus is leading men on behalf of the Jarl. He makes use of his expertise in combat (martial flexibility) and his leadership to grant allies needed synchronization (teamwork feats, inspire courage) to defeat any kind of enemies (martial flexibility allows me to grant a great variety of teamwork feats to the group).
When he is himself involved in combat, he’ll likely lead from the middle of the shield line, bashing his enemies (making use of brawler’s flurry) or stabbing them with his spear.

Backstory:
Loyal and friendly. Sven Røststjele Hedarsson is a man of the clan and, like his father Hedar before him, always stands by Jarl Olaf, for the clan is what protects them from the power of nature, the fury of man, and the cruelty of the fey. Sven’s father accompanied Jarl Olaf in the Southlands and participated in the taking of Halfstead. Sven was born during the rebuilding of the town, from a Southlands thrall named Anetta his father loved deeply and took as wife.

Steady and reliable. Sven grew up in a loving family, surrounded by tales of raids and glory, by stories of the North and honour, with Olaf as the hero. As he worshiped his father, so does he worship Olaf. Supported by his father’s renown, he quickly rose in rank and prestige and is now seen as a responsible commander, inspiring in battle, and always caring for his companions. Hence his nickname of Røststjele, voice of steel. Reaching his twenties, Sven has a wife and already a son of two years, Hanna and Hedar, and a prosperous farm (or a boat?). His father having passed recently, he moved in the family farm with his own family to take care of his aging mother.

Hopelessly bored. Yet, for all his wealth and prestige, Sven knows peace and knows it too well. He secretly longs for raids, for battle, for adventure, for tales of glory and honour that reach beyond practice drills in the meadow and arguments about hacksilver and barter wool.

About Me: I’ve been on this forum and participating regularly in PbP games for a while now (2008 and 2010 respectively). I really enjoy the PbP mode of playing, for it combines gaming and writing in very interesting ways. If not for PbP, I would have stopped playing now. I particularly enjoy games where the players and the DM interact with each other in meaningful ways, instead of each player interacting mostly with the DM and telling the others what their character is doing. That brings a lot of new dimensions in the game. This, in my experience, happens often when facing an ethical dilemma, such as prisoners. I feel this game, which seems to focus on community, duty, and honour, might have a few of those opportunities.

Uđđi will be built initially as a woodsman from a Lapp/Sami heritage and thus a stranger to the ways around Silvermead, if he is accepted as a huskarl he should transform into a more martial type ranger. He will be a bowman and if financially feasible he would have a saex, a throwing axe and a spear.
He would be built as a Trapper archetype and either Guide or Toxophilite as well.
He will speak Nørsk and Ulnet.
One trait to take for him is- Estenfirder: A harsh life in the wilds of Estenfird has hardened you and taught you how to get by on your own. Choose either a +1 trait bonus to Fortitude. Another trait would focus on his archery or outdoors skills.
He is tall and well-built for his tribe but considered average height and build here in Silvermead Hall. He has brown hair with braids, a beard and wears buckskin clothes of brown or dyed green. He likes to add his old tribal pattern to his clothing accents to remind him of his family.

Uđđi Viddarson is a tribal hunter from the Estenfird region. His family live up in near the frozen tundra and travel around the Estenfird. Uđđi grew up as a hunter, capable of felling animals with bow or with traps. He was the best hunter in his small family which consisted of his older brother Simma (a fisherman), his younger brother Viggu (a child) and his younger sister Olva (of marrying age). Since his parents were poor his family was looked down upon by other nomads but his and his brother Simma always brought food to the tribe whether it was meat of fish. One time when food was scarce and game was difficult, Uđđi went deep into the wildlands to catch meat. He was gone for a week but managed to kill a caribou. As he dragged his prize back to his tribe he discovered a plague had overtook the majority of them, including his family. The survivors went to join another nomadic tribe. Uđđi had lost his family and decided to seek his own fate by visiting the other realms. He earned his way trapping and selling his catch as he travelled until he eventually came to Silvermead Hall where he decided to winter until the spring thaw… where he is called Uđđi the Icewalker.

RP angles:
Outdoorsman- Uđđi is a naturalist and relishes proving his skills in the wild. He is a survivor, a climber, a stalker, a trapper and is respectful of the natural world. He has lived in harsh conditions and finds the more civilized living here in town a tad soft.
Loyal- being from a small nomadic tribe Uđđi learned to pull his weight to survive. He is willing to help others and be true to the common cause. His father was a loyal warrior/hunter for the tribal chief and Uđđi learned from him.
Archer- Uđđi is proficient in the use of the longbow. It is a rare and underappreciated weapon, but an essential tool for survival. His an adept archer but has not been tested in the use of the bow for warfare, just to scare off road side robbers who were looking to relieve him of his wares.

I cut my RPG teeth on the World of Greyhawk. My favorite locale in that realm was the Thillonrian Peninsula and even wrote my own gazetteer for it (as still unfinished with all the 3.5-4.0-5.0-PF rules). I am a history geek where my focus is on mostly military and cultural migration history. I run PFS PBP games and play as many as I can get into to satisfy my RP fix.

Aella is a northlander Paladin with both the Spear Maiden and Hospitaler archetypes. Different from all other Spear Maidens, Aelle follows the teachings of Freyja, also taking the bravery variant channeling ability.

She will take the Child of Heroes trait and focus her feats between two concepts: Defense and Trip maneuver. For the defense aspect, she would take many 'shield' feats (shieldwall, northlander spear fighting, shield focus, saving shield, etc) and for the trip aspect (combat expertise, improved trip, greater trip, etc).

Aella would be a bastion of courage and hope, boosting the morale of her companions, ensuring that no one will fall around her.

Brida Feydottir, the Wyrdweaver, the White Fey... Brida was the most powerful Cunning Woman of her family, the Vals, already famous for their legendary women, both in beauty and powerful lineage. Not a Godi but able to speak to the Norns in favor of allowing brave warriors to fight once more, the most famous of them being the famous Thollvar, the Unslain.

Thollvar the Unslain, the Last Huscarl, the Redwolf, slayer of the twin ice giants Hrötingar and Gaalbarök... Tholvar was the most powerful huscarl of Jarl Eirnar Troll-Faller and was present when Jarl Olaf Henrikson attacked Halfstad. During the time of Jarl Eirnar, Thollvar was his closest friend and even if he could claim the title of Jarl for himself, he decided to not do so, a decision that he regretted after seeing the man his friend had became. When he finally decided to put an end to his once friend's ambitions, Olaf Henrikson attacked. Already a legend, Thollvar fought like a madman against the new Jarl's men, killing two dozen of his best men before being defeated. For his fighting prowess and legendary deeds, Jarl Olaf decided to spare Thollvar. Seeing the man Jarl Olaf was, Thollvar gave him his oath.

After the Battle of the Endless Winter, when Brida managed to bring Thollvar from the afterlife and secured the victory against the vicious giant twins, they had a daughter. No marriage preceded this child's birth and even after it the two legends were not blessed with a marriage for Brida was a Cunning Woman and thus should never take a husband.

Daughter of two legends, much was expected from Aella, even if the rumors and opinions about her glorious fate was a matter of great discussion.

"Aella Bridasdottir will even surpass her mother! You'll see, the Vals blood run in her veins and she'll become the most wise and powerful Cunning Woman of not only Halfstad but also of the whole Northlands... she'll never marry though..." This was common talk among the women, close friends to her mother.

"Ha, Aella Thollvarsdottir? I'll be surprised if she doesn't kill a troll before her tenth winter! She has the blood of warriors! She'll follow her father's footsteps before finding a husband and then being the mother of legends!" Aella heard this talk among her father's companions more than once, with them even fighting for whose son would have the honor to take her in marriage.

The little romance between Brida and Thollvart lasted no longer than a couple winters. After Aella's birth Brida returned to her duties as a Cunning Woman and Thollvart married another warrior, Hedda Icemaul. Aella's childhood was spent evenly among both her parents homes.

From her mother she learnt how to heal others with herbs, about the wyrd and the lore past from generation upon generation of the Vals. Her mother, aunts, grandmother... all Vals' women were Cunning Women.

When staying with her father, Thollvart taught her how to fight with sword and shield, the powerful axe and the mighty spear. Aella was a natural learner and her father was sure she would become a fine warrior and mother of legends. Unfortunately Thollvart was not the only one to influence Aella in his home. Hedda, always jealous that her own sons and daughters would never achieve the fame bestowed upon Aelle, poisoned the girl's ears, pushing her to follow the path of a Spear Maiden, forever forbidden to marry or having children, running the dreams of both Brida and Thollvart.

As soon as Aella finished her oath as a Spear Maiden, Hedda confessed her plot to the girl. Angered and ashamed, Aella swore that she would never again let herself be manipulated and shackled to a established role. With an unprecedented act, Aelee chose Freyja as her Spear Maiden patron, a Vanir instead of an AEsir.

Following the tenants of Freyja, Aella became a warrior until she found she was able to bear a child. She married Uthard Bluehand, a fierce Ulfhander and had a little girl with him. Uthard died in battle in the same year and even if the common folks speak of how Aella was cursed by the Gods for having challenged them, Aella paid no mind to such rumors.

When her child, Yullia Aellasdottir was one winter old, she left her with her mother before returning to her duty as a warrior. Once more her actions were frowned by the common folk but she was still the Child of Heroes and it was enough... for now.

Aella knows she is walking on dangerous trails for having ignored so many customs of her people but her wyrd is her own and none shall impose their will against her and once her own legendary path is created, she knows many more will follow.

I'm from Brazil (thus English is not my first language) and have been playing RPG since I was 15. My RL groups disbanded for life reasons and now my only opportunity to play is through PBP and I'm glad that I tried it since now I love this format! I'm mostly a roleplayer instead of a rollplayer, even if I always look for viable a fun PCs, with many opportunities for roleplaying.

Gunnerveig is an outsider. He's a smith, sure, but a wandering one. He's a wizard - though he'd punch you in the face for calling him one, as he works in runes on steel and stone. He's giantblooded, but was raised human and desperate to reclaim the sense of belonging he remembers from his childhood.
Exact build path depends on the exact rule configuration used, but I'm confident it'll work with any. Likely to end up as an Abjurer specialist Wizard.
Background talks about disguise. It's going to be terrible. It's more about desperately trying to be taken as human than actually passing.
Primary Spells are going to be Endure Elements and Crafter's Fortune.
I really thought about dwarf for a long time, but in the end the outcast duality of the giant-blooded and the wizard really spoke to me.

Gunnerveig was the only survivor of his settlement. The Jarl had set up up north, started mining and was turning out amazing goods. Food was scarce and they traded for grains after harvest. One day a trading vessel docked at the burned pier and found the whole settlement just gone. Buildings smashed, then burned. Bodies missing. They looked for survivors and found one - Gunnerveig.
Gunnerveig was a kid. Slow for his age. Gunnerveig doesn't really remember much from then, but his rescuers worked out he'd hidden in the well when the settlement was attacked, then come out later. He was half-starved, with a twisted leg.
Gunnerveig was a broad lad, but he worked without complaint, and worked hard. He didn't mind fire, and he ended up apprenticed to the local Smith.
He worked hard, learning what he could. When his magic started to manifest he treated it like iron and beat it into shape. He alloyed it into the metal he worked with, and hammered it into the runes he carved. His master praised his work, and he bought his way back to being a freeman.
He had a temper, and an appetite. He grew broad, and tall - but so did many blacksmiths. His voice never broke, but sometimes that happens. His never grew stubble either, even when he was as tall as his Master.
Eventually it became obvious he'd grown too broad. Too tall. Too fast. He wasn't a slow teenager becoming a man, he was a giant child becoming a teenager. His friends abandoned him. The girl he'd been courting found another. One by one everyone left him and he found himself alone.
Now the anger he'd held down all his life came more and more often. He got in a fight - a fair one, though he towered over his opponent - and the Jarl turned him out.
Now he wanders through the north, through the cold that doesn't bother his jotun blood. If he slumps, wears just the right clothes, stays far enough away, new people treat him like a man. A smith with his talent has usually settled down. A smith with his talent is welcome in any village - till they work out what he really is.
Gunnerveig picked up a lot of tricks on his years of wandering, and has a good eye for good metal. He came here to exchange some techniques with Graf - whose ability with copper inlay is envied by smiths two weeks travel away - and desperately parlayed a few weeks of mutual tutoring into an agreement to work on a new suit of armour for the Jarl using techniques from the Southlands. That job lasted just long enough that it would have been a breach of hospitality for the Jarl not to invite the young man to stay for the winter. He's been here nearly nine months now, first as colleague, then as co-worker and finally as guest. Gunnerveig knows his time is ending, and all his talent wasn't enough to get him a position here. He's about to be lose his hope of a new home again, lost by people who can't see past his height.

I've been roleplaying about thirty years now. I dabbled in PbP in the 2000s, but really got involved right here on Paizo back in 2012 after my son was born.

Dwarven Forgemaster. I'd be interested in exploring the northmen culture through the eyes of a foreigner. I'd prefer the dwarves to be a little more like the svartalfar than Tolkien's dwarves.

Dvalar was the daughter of an important dwarf. Like most such daughters she was forced into a loveless political marriage. She stalled as long as she could, with the result that she had to be taken by sea to her fiance. On the way her ship was raided by a young Olaf Henrikson.
Henrikson offered to let her live in exhcange for becoming a Thrall. Dvalar countered by offering not to sink the ship, her dowry, and all in it. Eventually a compromise was reached - Dvalar agreed to forge Henrikson a sword "fit for a dwarf lord", and in exchange would be a 'guest' of Henrikson. In large part this was because Henriskson admired her bravery, and Dvalar really didn't want to die. Dvalar's ineptitude with norsk actually helped her cause in this situation.
Dvalar was intrigued by the Shield Maidens. The concept was alien to a dwarven woman, but she took to it immediately, using her guest status to train and eventually join the shield maidens.
Henrikson had no idea what he demanded when he asked for a sword fit for a dwarf lord, as such weapons are the pinnacle creations of a race that all but worships smithing. Dvalar was prepared to put in the necessary decades of work to learn to forge one, not remembering how long humans lived. When she learned how much better life was as a Shield Maiden she saw no reason to hurry.
When Olaf conquered Halfstead Dvalar was one of his shieldmaidens (he had realised the sword might never come, but figured the addition of a competent fighter and gifted smith to his retinue made up for that). In reward for her service she was granted Land. She did a survey and then took a scrubby, barren little hardhold in the upland hills a day away from the port. The humans thought her mad for picking such land, but it was the bounty under the ground that had called to her. Veins of iron, silver and even a hint of adamantium sung to her when she slept on the cold ground.
Helja, One of the Shield Maidens that had been her friend since the start, had fallen unexpectedly pregnant, and used her grant to found a farm near Dvalar. Helja, now fifty, is a grandmother. Her son runs her farm now. Dvalar and Helja's friendship suffered over the years - as Helja grew older and frail, Dvalar with her dwarven lifespan remained the same.
Dvalar's 'household' was a mine and a smithy, and she traded metal and goods for food. In the end it just became easier to buy some Thralls to work the land. Those thralls became Freemen in time, and Dvalar is a "Hirdman". A woman in such a position is unconventional to the humans, but unprecedented to dwarves.
Her father sent men to take her home, but her Oath is her protection. If her father orders her to leave, she must, but then her entire clan would be Oathbroken, and have to pay a human for forgiveness - typically three times the price she owes. Thus, while her father ground his teeth he was forced to let Dvalar stay.
Like many shield maidens, Dvalar has learned to become 'one of the guys'. She doesn't truly understand the Northmen mindset, and emphasises her Dwarven nature while also desperately over-embracing northmen behaviour (for example, she will try to drink much larger northmen under the table).
She abstains from romantic relationships, as becoming pregnant would ruin the situation she has been so fortunate in finding.
if these are okay: One aspect of human behaviour she has never been able to grasp is Pride. Dwarves regard pride as hubris, and hubris as a sin. Dvalar was raised to rubbish any item as ugly and poorly made, and skill as bare competence. A dwarf who says "I suppose it will do" has paid a great compliment. This does not apply to absent parties, so a dwarf can say "Ulfric is one of the greatest swordsmen who ever lived" when Ulfric is not around, but would say "Ulfric is not incompetent" when he was. This habit is highly ingrained in Dvalar, and does not make her many friends among the Northmen.
Dvalar's religion has many powers and dominions, and also worships the ancestors. Words call power into an item or a person. As Dvalar is a person of power, she is careful to avoid using names - especially full names - unintentionally.