Aaric Guðrunarson

## History

Born a bastard of a tryst between one of the northern tribe's more notable warrior's and the shaman's apprentice at the time, Aaric was hidden from his father for the night of his birth, feeling the warmth and love from his mother that would soon become scarce in his life. Having discovered the evidence of his escapades Aaric was soon separated from his mother as soon as he could eat solid food by his father and put before the tribe's chief. Looking down at the unfortunate child, the chief took pity on the baby and decided that the child would be spared, but only for the reason that there was a newly born child with strong evidence of shamanic powers who would need a protector as they grew into their strength. That the tribe be blessed with her power safely. Annoyed by the chief's decision, His father gave Aaric his mother's name to take as his surname, that he wouldn't be connected to the bastard protector mewling in the snow. Aaric began his training at an early age, as soon as he could walk in the snowy tundra he was given a training sword by the warrior assigned to the Shaman elder currently aiding the tribe through the winters and was quickly taught how to hold it and fight. Tenacity was burned into his skull by the nameless warrior, often not allowed to eat or back in the warm tents until his training regimen was done. Stuck in the howling windy night, Aaric had only one choice to make, fight through the icy chill and keep his body warm through only his burning blood and body movement, or die in the cold midnight lands. So fight he did, coming into the tent frostbitten and chilled to the bone, to a warm bowl of stew and blanket to stop the necrosis of his slowly turning blue digits.

A few years later, he came into contact with his future charge in a rather unexpected way. Following the blow of a horn, the flap to his tent was flung open and, as his eyes adjusted to the light, the sight of his father greeted his deadened gaze. A gnarled hand grabbed the boy's wiry shoulder and dragged him out into the tundra, explaining that Minerva, the babe that had long ago saved Aaric by her mere existence had gone missing after a fight broke out amongst the children playing in the snow, leaving several bloodied and Minerva vanishing into the snow as some of the boys chased her off.

A search party had been called and as she was his charge, his father deemed it necessary that he help. Without a word, Aaric went back into his tent, grabbed his axe, some rations, some flint and steel, a torch wrapped in resin, and his thick cloak, marching off into the woods where she had been seen running. Finding a trail of blood, Aaric followed his only potential lead and found a pile of leaves at the end. He began slowly searching through the pile of leaves, finding some smears of dried blood in the foliage and a black-haired child staring back at his deadened gaze.

After a moment of staring, Aaric spoke, asking for her name. Minerva slowly relaxed as she looked past the heavy cloak and axe, taking his boyish face in. Standing up out of the foliage, she asked for his in return. Exchanging names, she took a step forward and wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug. Confused, Aaric stumbled and asked what she was doing. She put her chin on his chest and looked up,  sadness brimming in her eyes. "You look sad like me." Unable to respond, Aaric stood there and slowly returned the hug, staying there for a while and feeling his cold heart melt somewhat, began to cry a little as her words resonated with the warmth of companionship. As evening drew close, Aaric slowly brought her back to the tribe, taking her hand and gently leading her through the mounting snow with torch ablaze. The upcoming blizzard froze the very air as they drew close.

Years later, Aaric was finally deemed worthy of being Minerva's protector upon reaching adulthood. Having taken after his father, Aaric grew quickly with muscle making itself known on his tall frame. His mother gifted him his grandfather's axe as a present for becoming an adult. Aaric quickly assumed his duties, recognizing the small girl that warmed his heart all those years ago. He kept close to her as she continued her training with the Shaman Elder, seeing her tap into the world of spirits and letting herself be possessed by them bewildered him, but planted a seed of curiosity as he heard the spirits speak of lands far beyond those that he had called home. Creatures far more dangerous than the wolves and bears that normally threatened the tribe roaming the tundra.

Several more years passed of fighting for the tribe and becoming close with his charge, Aaric found himself leaving the tribe in search of those storied beasts that Minerva spoke of. An urge to fight and best them in the heat of battle had taken his heart and burned a path south to the warm lands there.

Rumors of travelers in the southern lands bearing marks caught wind and only further stoked the burn in his chest. The thought of being able to bring back proof of a glorious victory, to be something more than a bastard that was spat on and left to live out his years as a glorified nanny, one which wasn’t needed most of the time. As much as it pained him to leave Minerva and his mother alone, the thought of being something she could be proud of stoked his courage as he made preparations. The final nail in the coffin that made his decision set in stone arrived from the chittering around the fire and the looks of pity others gave him. Whispers caught wind that an up and coming warrior had been nominated as a replacement for the Shaman’s protector, having proved his prowess in a blood fueled raid of another tribe. That night, Aaric made his preparations to leave, figuring that Minerva was in good hands. A small hand tapped his shoulder, belonging to a close friend and surprising the hell out of him. Without a word they hugged and nodded, leaving that night for the southern domain.