Able to track/follow the signs of sentient and animal life left behind in their wake across vast terrain,
and is skilled in the removal of pelts and meats for consumption and trade.
A lover of nature and all that the natural world provides,
Ylva has become a talented botanist making use of the procurement of herbs for medicinal aid.
Exceptional with the bow, her weapon of choice,
Ylva tends to her own upkeep with the personal craftsmanship and repair of arrows and the bow itself.
In all things she could want, the land provides.
For those that fetch a pretty penny however, well, some peoples trash is anothers treasure.
Strong will can come with two sides, the positive strengths being her refusal to give up when she puts her mind to something,
showing little in the way of fear when challenged in combat, determined not to be proven the underdog despite how much she may indeed fear death.
Often ridiculed by those of high born living, Ylva is an outcast and one who has learned to fend for herself.
She has no claim to wealth nor education in high born etiquette, her way is the way of the Clan Solveig.
Taught that even murder can be justified if she must choose between her own survival and that of others.
Due to her harsh upbringing and the things she has witnessed and been forced to do in order to survive, Ylva Solveig is not an easy person to get along with.
Her constant distrust of others and inability to open up because of this makes her a very competitive and on edge figure to be around.
Most notable for her amber hair and terrible dress sense, Ylva's attire is a self cut and sewn collection of skins and leathers from the kills that she has taken out in the wilds. Her build is athletic, forever on the move and rather challenging despite the views of man, she has the arm to correct any poor fools want to discredit her.
As if to rival the firey head of hair however, her eyes are a pale blue which has influenced Clan Solveig into thinking that she was born of Fire and Ice, whether superstition or mere play, she has adopted this tale and it can often be shown through her demeanor with regards to those she'd choose to interact with. Whether cold and calculated or warm and easy to fire up at the first sign of trouble, she has the look of any true wilder about her.
Nirauan, a world of little technology and civilization rests within a pocket to the northern expanse; a world known to Human and Chiss yet only those of the Qom Jha and the Qom Qae can really call it a home. There is little to gain from such a world so out of the way from the center of the Galaxy, a place of anonymity and relative peace if the native owners to the orb are generous enough to leave one be. The odd ruin stands above the tree's or half buried against the hills of this temperate climate, the changing of the seasons bringing a new challenge in every day, certainly not the choice for a typical family to look to as a new hearth for their youngest. How could they have known, naturally that within the middle of nowhere without friends nor extended family to stand alongside them, they would fall prey to mercenaries and thieves, rogues and scum of the known galaxy. Who could have thought that life could be so charming...
Ylva's story did not truly begin until after the murder of her family, her parents and her younger brother. She was about the age of five when raiders befell upon their homestead and sought to take all, belongings no longer worth keeping with the lives of her kin bled out upon the floor. To young to know better, to afraid and innocent to fight, the child fled with no real direction in mind; never meaning to fall into the grasp of one Akron Solveig, hunter and warrior among the clan responsible for the slaughter. Misguided and weak were her hands as she swung about in desperation, picked up by the scruff, the giant of a man baring down on her with eyes not of a killer but a heart beneath a twisted morale compass. Against her choosing that day, she was taken with them and in the years to come would settle up with his raiding party the murder of her family; yet not before learning all there was to know about survivng, hunting and turning predator into prey.
Akron Solveig was a scandalous old dog. He did not care for the lives of others save for the girls own, she who was to be called his daughter yet treated as though she were more a testament and trophy of his many deeds, his love and adoration for her was often hidden behind his drunken temper and cannibalistic lifestyle. While they did not feed upon their own, more often than not the enemies they would face would be among their own clan, a group of outcasts and hideaways, rogues and murderers who had no other reason to band together than the fact that they were safer in good numbers upon a world who's nativity saw them as hostiles. A title they had earned well.
Years passed by, Ylva Solveig ever growing into a fine huntress and quite the bold presence for the likes of a woman among feral men. She did not take grief from anyone without slinging arms in retaliation nor was her respect given up freely. Dignity and honor was a code emphasized through the ability to hold her own and do that she learned exceptionally well. Biding her time, becoming one of their own, a lifetime went by and though she no longer saw the faces of her old family nor remembered their names, she forever held onto the knowledge of what these people had done to her, what they had robbed her of, a life different from all this.
It was winter when she decided to act, a cold night with a high wind that carried the cry of the skies loudly, muffling her steps through the snow as she moved through out the camp with the bloodied edge of her knife dripping down over the fingers of her right hand, the lives of Clan Solveig silenced as they slept. They deserved not the ease of passing and yet as they believed, their numbers she nor any other sane man or woman would seek to take whilst standing in combat. Eventually, inevitably she would come to Akron, the man who raised her, who taught her, who loved yet beat her time and time again. It was his throat she opened that brought tears to her eyes, soured in misery yet loyal only to those he had killed in another life before this; her story would now begin. It started with the death of her childhood.
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