About Rannveig Pack-BoundAnimal Companion, Ylva Background:
A Beginning to the Tale of Rannveig, Pack-Bound Although many know the touch of an evil witch's power, for most it is over quickly. Through brave deeds done, or through their doom, they find their release. Not so for Rannveig Flanirsdotter, she called Pack-Bound. In her youth, Rannveig was the pride of her family. She was pure as the morning after snowfall and beautiful as the flight of swans, but she was naive. Sheltered by her doting father, she knew little of the dangers that could wait in the wide world, and remained that way for close to twenty years. And so it was that one evening, out gathering firewood, Rannveig wandered too far into the forest wilderness. In a clearing, she came across a hut, a crude cabin she had never seen before. The door creaked open, and a woman emerged. Her face was beautiful, as beautiful as Rannveig's, but where Rannveig's beauty was born of the bloom of youth and innocence, hers was the lean, graceful beauty of a predator. She took in the girl before her, and her mouth cracked in a hunter's smile, all teeth and no warmth. She said no words, but tilted her head, and from deep in the cabin there rose a growl. Out of the darkness, a huge wolf stepped into the light. It stood nearly the height of a man, and its anger was palpable - but it was old. Its fur was patchy with age, and once great muscles had begun to sink. Woven into the fur of its chest was a small, knot-like amulet. Rannveig sank to her knees, cowering, terrified beyond belief. "Why do you shiver, pretty thing?" the witch - for witch she must be - said, her voice a throaty purr filled with primal desire and the promise of danger. She lowered her chin, staring at Rannveig with eyes the girl could now see were yellow and shone with the same light as the wolf's. "We do not hunt for meat tonight." The girl's eyes rose, flinching as she met the witch's gaze. Tears streaked her face, but hope was in her eyes when she asked, "Y...you do not?" "Oh, no, pretty thing. But you shiver so. You must grow cold. Come in," she gestured behind her to the cabin's dark depths, "And we shall warm you by the fire." Rannveig knew that to go inside would be the utmost folly, but she had grown very cold. Somehow, she felt that she must go inside, must or she would freeze. Her limbs jerked, taking her forward, her mind fogged as if in a dream, until she found herself inside the hut. Inside, there was indeed a fire, but it did not give warmth. It burned with the frozen light of ice, and illuminated a five-pointed star on the floor, bound in a softly glowing circle. The girl shuddered, and halted for a brief moment, but the witch murmured something low and the wolf growled, and the girl stepped forward again. She stopped within the confines of the circle, and her mind and body were her own once more. She did not shriek, or fall again, but turned and looked at the witch with despair in her eyes. "What will you do with me?" she asked, resigned to whatever horrible fate was planned for her. The witch merely grinned her mirthless grin and sank into a crouch, murmuring in a growling tongue and reaching out to the wolf beside her, unraveling the amulet from its chest. She threw out her hand, tossing the tiny item towards the circle, and the moment it crossed the threshold, it took on a new momentum, flying up to tie itself into the girl's hair. It was then that the magic took hold in truth, and Rannveig did fall then, howling in pain. She dropped to her hands and knees and shook wildly, her hair flying in all directions. The wolf trembled, too, its legs giving way, and then the circle flared with light and Rannveig knew no more. When she awoke, the world had changed. Colors had drained away, yet everything seemed sharper, cleaner. She stood, feeling within herself a power and a hunger she could not remember feeling, but seemed horribly familiar. A low, sinister cackle came from behind her, and she turned her head, sensing the presence of the witch. The witch held out a hand, and Rannveig moved toward her, accepting her benediction. Without another word, they moved together out of the hut, past the body of the dead man before the hearth - the former wolf, transformed again with his death. The new wolf, and her mistress, went out into the world, leaving the old behind. Thus, for many years, Rannveig's body and mind was held in thrall to the form of the wolf, doing the witch's bidding in all things. She never gave a thought to her former life, not even truly remembering it as a human would, and in her new existence, there was a dark joy to be had. Together, they did many unspeakable things, sometimes even adding to their strange pack, but it was beyond the witch's magic to bind more than one soul to her will for long. And so it was for nearly a decade, but there came a time when the wolf-witch's evil became too bold, near the forest that men call the Verduran. She was slain at the hands of a brave band of adventurers, and without any warning, Rannveig's mind was her own once more. Confused, still bound in the wolf's body, she ran clumsily into the night before the heroes could stop or slay her. She did not get far, her strength giving out as the magic that had fueled her for so long began to die. She whimpered, then howled, giving voice at last to the grief of a dozen long years of torment and depravity, and her call did not go unanswered. From out of the forest came a wolf pack, free of the taint of magic. They sniffed at her, licked her wounds, and over the course of the coming nights, accepted this wolf who smelled of humans into their pack. Rannveig, for her part, was grateful for this kindness, animal-born as it was, and ran with them, giving in to the wild in her soul. It was glorious, free and unrestrained, and in a very short time, she became the leader of the pack. Her mind, so long kept in check to the witch's thrall, slowly returned to her in full, and with a human mind guiding them, the pack and their leader swiftly became a legend in those hills. It was not to last, however. The wolf-witch's magic, strong though it was, could not long last beyond her death. It began to fade at last, and Rannveig began to return to her true form. At first, she did not understand what was happening, but as the weeks wore on, she began to run on two legs once more, and she understood. The pack, once tied to her so strongly, began to fragment; the alpha was gone, and in her place a human stood. They left her, too confused by the change to bring her down - but one remained. Her former second, a she-wolf she would perhaps have called her friend, had she been human to do so. And now she could, and did. Their bond did not end with the division of woman and wolf, but went to the soul. Wolves do not use names as humans do, and so Rannveig called her simply Ylva, meaning she-wolf in the old tongue. Unsure, now, of where she was, or what to do in her new life, Rannveig and Ylva wandered the forest, seeking purpose. Older now, by more than a decade, returning home did not have the appeal it might have, and she felt uncomfortable, now, with being bound to one place. She had spent too long roving the country, beholden to no one, to ever want the life of a simple farmer's daughter again. So they wandered, Rannveig learning with Ylva's help how to survive as a human in the wild.(Trait: Child of Nature) And as they explored, she discovered as well a connection to the wild places of the world. She learned to call out to her pack of old, and they came to her call, although they would not stay for long. Spending so long as a creature of nature, she had become part of it, and even now it nurtured her, giving her strength and allowing her to call on its power at need. In return, she swore to protect its sanctity, and that of all its creatures. Whatever would threaten the balance, be it man, demon, or angel, it would first face the fury of the pack. Description:
Rannveig is tall for a woman, standing nearly six feet. Her face is framed by blonde hair, lustrous though unkempt. Years of living in the form of a beast have twisted her features, and she is no longer in the full bloom of youth. Her eyes glint gold, now, instead of the pure blue they once were, and there is a feral cast to her face, although at times she smiles a brilliant smile that belies all that and hints at what must have once been a truly stunning woman. She is a lean, muscled, whip of a woman, strengthened by years of living wild and earning her place in the survival of the fittest. Her wildness is accentuated by a strange mishmash of clothing, a combination of pelts and leathers that looks as if she'd cobbled together an outfit out of only a vague memory of what clothes were meant to look like. The only thing she wears that appears truly manmade is the amulet in her hair. It is of an unfamiliar, dull gray metal, and made to look like a strip of fur tied in a complicated artistic knot. The detail is almost miraculous, and it is woven almost seamlessly into Rannveig's hair, holding one thin braid in place down the left side of her face. Rannveig could have removed it long ago, but she wears it still as a remembrance to herself about the dangers of the world. Personality:
For the better part of a decade, Rannveig lived the life of a wild thing. She is still almost as much wolf as human, and thus, her manners are rough and uncouth, and she says little. When she does converse, she speaks bluntly, with almost nothing in the way of tact or restraint. Even the idea of such things confuses her slightly, unsure why anyone would speak unnecessarily or without honesty. Wolves are much more direct. She is far from cold, or haughty, though - in fact, she is very friendly, sometimes even uncomfortably so, with those who treat her well. This stems from a mild starvation for the company of others like her; much as she loves Ylva and the ways of the wild, she is still human, and longs for like companionship. She has little in the way of physical boundaries, often making her intentions known through touch or body language instead of speech, in the way of the pack. Despite her rough treatment at fate's hands, Rannveig remains relatively innocent. She can only remember vague flashes of her time in the witch's thrall, and her life before that was peaceful, even idyllic, and seems very long ago. To humans, this often makes her seem ignorant or childlike at times as she takes delight in the simplest of civilization's wonders. She is particularly naive of the ways of men, and nervous, even shy, around them. She is much more comfortable with women, and even more so with wolves. In battle, though, all her reservations disappear. she is a silent terror, moving in concert with Ylva to bring down their opponents with dashing tears from both sides. Kill or be killed, there is no mercy in the justice of the wild. She would gladly sacrifice herself to protect any member of her pack, human or wolf. To do otherwise would never even occur to her, but if one should fall, she spends little time grieving. It is the way of the world, and the great cycle of nature finds us all in the end. Quirks:
Positive
Negative
A theoretical scene of Rannveig telling a story:
A Song of Moonlight:
It had been a hard day, but the companions were in high spirits. They were victorious, after all, and would face tomorrow with vigor renewed. They sat with pleasure in front of the inn's warm hearth, and once they were all settled with a platter of food and their favorite drink, they called for stories. Each told their favorite tale of bravery or merriment, and there was laughter and good cheer for all. Finally, every one of the party had spoken, save for Rannveig, and they coaxed her to her feet, the usually reserved woman shrinking into herself until her ever-present companion joined her. With Ylva by her side, Rannveig placed a hand on the she-wolf's back, and seemed to draw succor. She opened her mouth to speak, and then frowned. She had no tales to tell, not of heroes or laughter as her friends had told. But...there was perhaps something she could say, if they would hear her, and she said so. A few amused grins and confused chuckles spread around the room, but most cheered her on, eager to hear their oft-silent companion speak. She closed her eyes, gathered herself, and began. "Wolves do not speak as you would know it. They are creatures of emotion and memory. But there is a sense that...no. You are a part of something greater. There is more than just the pack, there is the great family of all wolves, and all wolves know this, even as they sometimes fight with one another. They are bound, bound by the moon and by their ancient blood, and they do not need to speak to know it. But they do sing. Not human songs, songs to entertain or to teach, but wolf songs, songs that tell who and what they are and bring the great family together as one. It is not language that is easy to speak with a human tongue, but this is one of their songs as best I can tell it. It is from very long ago, before they knew the moon. In forest-home of shade and stone,
There was a wolf who loved the stars,
He ran far, he ran fast,
He called out to the sky,
The stars took him up to the sky,
We remember, we know you,
There was silence, and the slightest stirring of awe, before the room burst into applause and good-natured cheers and jibes. A tale of the wild kingdom, some whispered to one another appreciatively, wondering at the idea. Rannveig's face flushed, and she all but ran back to her seat, huddling into herself and sipping her drink. Apparently, it was someone else's turn.
Feats:
Human Combat Expertise: You can choose to take a –1 penalty on melee attack rolls and combat maneuver checks to gain a +1 dodge bonus to your Armor Class. When your base attack bonus reaches +4, and every +4 thereafter, the penalty increases by –1 and the dodge bonus increases by +1. You can only choose to use this feat when you declare that you are making an attack or a full-attack action with a melee weapon. The effects of this feat last until your next turn. Level 1 Improved Trip:You do not provoke an attack of opportunity when performing a trip combat maneuver. In addition, you receive a +2 bonus on checks made to trip a foe. You also receive a +2 bonus to your Combat Maneuver Defense whenever an opponent tries to trip you.
Traits:
Child of Nature: You gain a +1 trait bonus on all Survival checks, and it becomes a class skill for you. Freed Slave: You gain a +1 trait bonus on Will saves. Skills:
14 Total Points: 8(Class) + 2(Human) + 2(Favored Class) + 2(Int) Climb: 7 = 1(Rank) + 3(Class) + 3(Str)
Defenses:
HP: 16/17 (1 nonlethal) Fort: 5 = 3 + 2(Con)
AC: 13 = 10 + 2(Leather Armor) + 1(Dex)
CMD: 15 = 10 + 1(BAB) + 3(Str) + 1(Dex)
Offense:
BAB: 1 CMB: 4 = 1(BAB)+ 3(Str) ~Trip: 6 = ^ + 2(Feat) MW Scimitar, Attack +5 (1 BAB, 3 Str, 1MW), Dmg 1d6 +3 Equipment and Encumbrance:
Encumbrance Weights: Light = 76, Medium = 153, Max = 230, Lift = 460, Push/drag 1150 Total weight = 56.5 lbs Common backpack (2 lbs)
Wrist Sheaths (1 lb each)
Hide belt pouch (.5 lbs)
Bandolier
Patchwork leather armor (15 lbs)
Alternate Class Features:
Wild Empathy (Ex): A wolf shaman can use wild empathy with canines as a full-round action with a +4 bonus. Totem Transformation (Su):
While using totem transformation, the wolf shaman may speak normally and can cast speak with animals (canines only) at will.
Spells:
0risons (4 per day) Detect Magic Light Purify Food and Drink Guidance 1st level (2 per day)
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