Gustaf Lögr
The Baramoðn
"Aye, known as Fjordrunners, very hard to spot."
"So how do we find them?"
"That's just it, lad. You don't"
"We don't??"
"Aye. They will find us"
The Ølv [river wolves]
"The Ølv, or 'river wolves', are typically lithe and wiry, with coats of varying hues of brown. Typically, they have thicker pads on their paws, and slightly more defined ears, which lends to their ability to remain stealthy. Their fur is typically more wild than other wolves, which helps them to blend into the foliage of the various river banks. As they are more water-oriented, their thicker, wider paws also help them to glide effortlessly while submerged."
A Legend among the Lupo Clans of Islimore, Gustaf is what the humans of the planet know of as 'The Boogie-man'. A dread wolf who stalks the little children in the shadows of the night, tearing them from their comfortable beds in their safe homes, stealing into the darkness from whence it came.
This is but a myth, cooked up by the humans, and by The Fayth. The truth of the matter is a bit different. Come, friends, sit down by the fire, warm your bones, and let me weave you a tale of honor, of pride, of great loss, of sadness, of redemption and of vengeance unwavering.
Gather round, and let me tell you the tale of... the Baramoðn.
Almost a century ago our story begins, with the birth of the third born son of Galaen, High Bearer of Clan Lögr. A wiry, and small pup he was, but Galean and his mate Sylvie loved him just the same. This was during the darkest times of the Purge. The Purge is quite simply put; the eradication of every last Lupo possible, if the Fayth have their way. But not all was lost. There were mighty Clans that still fought and held the line, that kept the Lupo from going into extinction. Those of the Ótta, the Kuhn, and the Drage, to name a few. But the River Wolves of Mistbrook Village, they were nothing to scoff at. Let me take you back, even further, for a moment.
Once upon a time, millenia ago, they were bannermen to Clan Drage of Stormhaven. For the Drage protected them, and kept the other clans that might seek to conquer their lands away. In return, the Lögr would provide for them food from the rivers and inlets, track for them the beasts of the forests for bone and pelt, and most importantly, to bring them the knowledge they sought to keep the other clans in line. The Trackers of Clan Lögr were known far and wide across all of Islimore as the best at what they did. It was once said you could not eat a meal without a Lögr Tracker noting every ingredient in the dish!
It was said that one of the Draoidae of the Lögr, known as the Bearers of the Rites, would make a pilgrimage to our most sacred of places back in times of old, during another great crisis that raged through our lands. This Bearer would go to the Wolf's Wood, and amongst it's silver hued trees, he would pray to the Lögr's highest and most cherished of the Gods; Naé. Naé, as you know, is the God of Water, Poetry, and Illusion. The Bearer would make his plea, begging Naé to help them in their time of need. And Naé would hear his prayer. But no god simply gives without asking in return. Naé tasked him with what those of Clan Lögr know today as "The Sacred Hunt of Dýr". The Bearer was given nothing more but a simple wooden spear, and told by Naé that should he be successful, he would be granted with the knowledge of the Art of the Hidden, and the power with which to wield it. For 7 days and 7 nights did the Bearer track his quarry, until one moment, within the Wolf's Wood, the mythical beast known as Dýr would appear. With a majestic coat of fur, standing over 3 meters tall, and with antlers that appeared to touch the heavens themselves, the mythical beast would charge upon the Bearer, and at the last moment, he dropped his spear, and simply stood there, unwilling to do any arm to one who did not deserve it. Dýr had stopped in it's tracks, and bent it's snout down, and nuzzled the Bearer's forehead. It was said that on that day, Naé saw great beauty in the Bearer's unwillingness to do harm to such a pure creature of the forest, and found it to be poetic and worthy of his gifts.
Now, how does this tie into our story, you may ask? Well, this Bearer was gifted with the knowledge of the Rites of the Baramoðn. But, as part of Naé's Blessing, the Bearers would not wield this power themselves. No, for they were too pure of heart. Instead, the gods themselves would anoint those rare few Lupo whom were deemed worthy of the sacred burden of being the ones granted the ability to take life so easily. For theirs was a heavy burden that weighed down upon the soul. This was not life taken for no reason, this was done with purpose, it was deemed as what was necessary to protect the Lögr, and in turn, ALL Lupo, when the need arose. There were only a handful of these Baramoðn anointed in the past 6 generations. Still, centuries would pass, and much would ebb and flow upon the small backwater we call home before we come to the modern times. The Trackers of Clan Lögr would become something more. As the Purge raged across the land, as Wolf and Fayth fought in bitter conflict, the Draoidae would come to realize they needed something more once again than just warriors.The Bearers were in for a bit of a shock, you see for upon Gustaf's 10th birthday, they celebrated under the cover of night upon the edges of the Fjörd near Mistbrook Forest, the moonlight took on a reddish-orange hue. The few Lupo gathered looked on in awe and wonder as the Gods themselves seemed to make their presence known, and this red hued moonlight shone down for only a few brief moments, and it shone upon one and one alone; Gustaf of Clan Lögr, Son of the High Bearer Galean. Their prayers had been answered, it would seem.
For that day on, Gustaf's father would have him train with those of Clan Drage to hone his skills as a warrior, while Galean himself would teach him the Rites and Traditions of the Baramoðn, passed down from Bearer to Bearer until such time as the role was needed. Gustaf would become a Master of the Art of the Hidden, and a warrior unlike any other within the Clans of Islimore. Upon his 20th birthday, Gustaf was led to the Wolf's Wood himself, as his father began the Rite of the Baramoðn. With the Blessing of Naé and the guidance of his father Galean, Gustaf fashioned from the wood of the wolfswood tree and from the sacred Iron of the shores of the Ølv Fjðrd his mystical spear, a weapon of great power and great mystery. With it, Gustaf became a Force of Good for the Lupo. He would spend his days hidden within the very trees, under the rivers, within the rocks, and high upon the mountains, watching over his fellow Lupo, and taking the lives of those whom would do harm to his fellow wolves.
It is said that Gustaf carries the weight of his burden with great strength, given to him by the Gods, and maintained by his own faith in his fellow Lupo. He has his fair share of scars, both physical and emotional. He has seen close friends and family die at the hands of the Fayth, and he has vowed to eradicate them, just as they have vowed to eradicate the Lupo. Upon Islimore's human population, his is the visage of a monster, feared and cruel, whom human children are taught to hate with all their being.
But among us, my friends? Among us, the Lupo Clans of Islimore, he is a protector. A wolf capable of great violence, but only because it is needed in these dark days. Where the humans only see a monster, we Lupo only see the good in him. For he is Gustaf, of Clan Lögr. He is the Fjördrunner. He is..
The Baramoðn
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