Jorleif Joralfsdottir

Jorleif came to Iramagos through one of the many portals to Darkwood. She and her giant boar guardian, Ingjorr, were following the scent of the gods. Hot headed and bold, she will speak her mind if need be. Shieldmaiden by training, she does not shy away from a fight. She trained a majority of her life with spear, sword, and shield. Her understanding of a bow is only enough to hunt but nothing more precise than that. Due to the rest of her clan dying out, she is now directly tied magically to Ingjorr. She has complete access to his spells and magic given by the gods. Her magic does not have an element base as it is purely functioning off of Ingjorr as though he was a battery. Given his current state, her magic is nearly at demi-god status if she ever chose to actually learn how to use it properly.

Early Life
As a girl she grew up on a farm with her mother, father, and multitude of siblings. Her mother taught her how to sew, cook, and use a shield. Her father taught her how to fish, hunt, and use a sword. Her oldest brother participated in many raids and taught her how to use a spear. Most days were spent helping her mother or father depending on the season. Night were spent by the father with his stories before they all ended up in a loft heaped and piled together.

She was 12 when the fighting started. They had heard word that one of the clans had invaded but there were no survivors to tell which clan it was. Ingjorr put out the call for the clan to come together and unite. So her family packed up and began their trek off their lands and towards the great boar town of Krokr. She had never been but her father's tales kept her eager and happy on their trek towards Krokr.

On the way there, they met up with other families following Ingjorr's orders. One of which was carrying a sickly boy. The fever he carried took out her two youngest siblings. Death was a common occurrence on the farm but losing two at once hurt her. Especially since the youngest, Thyra had managed to survive being born in the midst of a horrible thunderstorm.

By the time they got to Krokr, the city had expanded with huge ramparts around cleared lands so that families could come and camp. Every day new families would arrive. This went on for a year or so and she found it great fun to explore the camp and learn the new faces and names of all this extended family.

Teenage Years
When she was 15 the Wolf and Bear clan attacked. Working in small coordinated groups, the wolf clan worked to weaken the rampart which enabled the Bear clan to burst forth into the camping grounds. Unprotected and unprepared, many of the families died that day. Her eldest brother and mother among them. With his eldest and his mate gone, she noticed her father lose his light and turned exclusively to training. He swore to die in battle so that he too could go to Valhalla and be with them again.

During this time, Knute(21) and Nanna(19) became the stand in patriarch and matriarch for their family. Not wanting to miss out or be considered weak, she trained daily with her father. Most days, she lost and would come home beaten and bruised. But then, eventually, she started to win. She learned how to outmaneuver and overpower the strength of a man.

A few days after her 17th birthday, the Wolf and Bear clans returned along with the Raven clan. This time, their raid was at night. They were a bit more prepared for the onslaught but nothing could have prepared them for the fire that rained on them from the Raven clan. Once more they were raided. Once more she lost family. Her father, Nanna and Knute were felled in battle whilst Tait had been crushed and burned by a fallen cart. Now she only had two older and three younger siblings. Her once a family of 12 was now only 6.

Her clan dwindled from this second raid. The house that had held Ingjorr broke around him as he grew. The death of each member of the clan gave him back their borrowed magics. Now too large to be housed, he cast off the remains of the house and turned to wander the ranks of those that remained. She remembered seeing him for the first time in her dreams before they left. But now... Now he was huge and it made her feel like a child again.

At the first melting of winter, Ingjorr ordered them to move. The clan gathered all they could and packed for travel. They would be going to the ancient site; the holy land. There, they would petition the gods. In her dreams Ingjorr explained his motives and fears. That when clans get large, the guardian in charge of them can turn feral, spread too thin among their people. That the clans they faced now were following rabid beast masquerading as divine.

All the same they began their trek. Winding through the wilds was a treacherous journey in itself. Ingjorr often pushed them to march through the night when he felt that another clan may be close. It did not stop the clans advance though. A Wolf raiding party found them in a mountain pass. She was part of the shiledwall that kept them at bay. Her brothers Ivar and Sven were both injured in that battle. Sven in the face and Ivar in the leg. Both survived but it was clear that they would not be able to fight in the coming battles. Not until they were healed.

Coming upon the holy lands, Ingjorr let them all rest. No war could happen in the holy lands. It was sacred. She turned 18 watching the fever and rot in Ivar's leg finally take him. Sven had survived but his eye would never recover. Now they were four.

They waited for weeks for Ingjorr to give them a command but none came. Until one day he made it clear that the gods were no longer looking to them. They had shut their eyes to this plane and they would have to make a great sacrifice to awaken them. That a blood sacrifice would awaken them. He chose her from among those that remained to be the voice of her people. She didn't know why he had done it. Asejorr was far better at talking and telling stories. She felt as though any other person would have been a better choice. But the choice was made all the same.

When it came time to call to the gods, she could only watch as those that remained, her family included, took knives to their own throats; some with smiles, others with tears. Ingjorr swelled and grew beside her with each death. By the time all had fallen, he was the size of a two story house and she was alone. The silence was overpowering and she fought to keep herself sane as the smell of blood filled the area. But still the gods did not come.

Ingjorr took it upon himself to try a new path. If the gods would not come to them, they would go to the gods. But as she was, she would never survive the trip. Instead, Ingjorr bound their souls and magics to one another. In this way, she would be able to survive as she was now, more than human. Spearing her upon one of his tusks, he shared all he was with her as she tried to give it back in death. The result was an equal and homogeneous mix of Ingjorr within herself. His memories, spell, and magics all ghosting about in the back of her mind.

After he was certain that she was ready, Ingjorr made a portal and they spent the next year hopping from world to world following the 'scent' of the gods that Ingjorr could smell. Each portal, each jump, getting them one world closer to where they wanted to be.