Tinywolf, or Tiny as her friends can call her, is a big woman. She stands at least 6’1” with a heavy fame and solid muscles. Her rugged face is surrounded by thick red hair that harkens back to possible Vanir bloodline in her past (but don’t dare mention that to her). She has a dark scar on the left side of her mouth that she says she picked up in a friendly bar fight. The hardness of her face contrasts with her bright blue eyes that twinkle with mirth but which can harden into ice cold blue when she is in battle. Tiny, unlike most of her kindred, is fastidious about her hygiene. She takes regular baths even if it has to be in ice cold mountain streams. She says that is to keep her prey from smelling her in the wind but it is possible that this is her only sign of vanity.
Tiny is a study in contrasts. She is a warrior. Her love of battle is part of her Cimmerian blood line. She is a master of the bow but prefers doing battle face to face at close quarters. Tiny is an artist with a short sword a brush in each hand and her opponent her canvas. Each strike is made with precision and decision. But giver her room to swing and Tiny comes into her own with a two handed broadsword or a war ax. Then she has all the grace of a battering ram slamming her way through her opposition. She can become so wild that she becomes a goddess of destruction wading through blood and bone. In this state she can be as dangerous to herself as she is to her opponents when in her blood lust she becomes unmindful of her own safety. On the other hand Tinywolf is a gentle giant of a woman. She is soft spoken and quiet. Her blue eyes soften and there is a depth that few would expect of such a person. She learned writing and numbers from her village shaman. She also learned to think and analyze, using her head as much as her arm, except of course with the blood rage takes over. And there is a third side to Tiny. She has a wicked sense of humor that can pop up and the most unexpected time. Often this plays off of her imposing exterior. She will play the “dumb warrior”. She will start referring to herself in the third person to say something profound. As an example once when she and her outnumbered companions were facing a charge of Vanir bandits she lifted the group’s moral with “Tinywolf thinks Crom does not care, Tinywolf thinks Mitra sleeps and Tinywolf knows Set will not help so Tinywolf says we should be grateful for this chance to do it ourselves.” With that she charged into the enemy and let her companions into a bloody victory.
When the girl was born, under the watchful eyes of the village shaman, she was very small and let out a mew like a newborn wolf. With that her father named her Tinywolf. For the first eight years of her life this name fit will. Tinywolf was a delightful little red-haired girl. But then something happened. She started to grow, and grow, and grow and not just taller. Her bone structure became heavier and her muscles filled out. By 10 she we the largest child in the village and by 14 she was taller than all of the village women and most of the men. This time was filled with pain – both physical and mental. The speed of her growth wracked her body with pain. Her joints and muscles ached with a deep pain that could not be relieved by any of the shaman’s treatments. Along with this she took endless teasing from the other kids, The adults were not much kinder, treating her as a misfit. It was during this period that she came under the tutelage of the shaman that help at her birth. At her parents request he took her as a personal student to help her cope. He taught her writing and numbers. He also talked to her about other lands that he had heard from travelers that came through their village. Along the way he taught her humor and logic and helped her learn to cope with her differences. The shaman talked the village weapons master to take her on as a student to learn physical discipline and to give her an outlet for the physical aggressiveness she needed. Indeed she did grow stronger and showed a talent for fighting. She could work a broadsword with ease. While she was not a natural with one handed swords she was forced to learn precision and skill. She became the youngest person, male or female, to be allowed to assist in the defense of the village from raiders taking her first Vanir head at fifteen. In her twentieth year Tinywolf heard the call of adventure and decided to leave the village and see the world. It was not a hard decision since the only person she was really close to was her lifelong friend, the shaman, He granted her his blessing and she stepped out into the world.
“Tinywolf hungry, Tinywolf bored and Tinywolf horney. Tinywolf has a sword. Tinywolf thinks this is not a good combination.”