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Signe is anything but the simpering fragile creature that the word woman proclaims them to be. She doesn't carry herself like a lady, but like a forest-dwelling wildling. It reflects in her appearance; with her wild, matted hair falling over her shoulders and lying in a chaotic mess, windblown and tousled—and her mismatched assortment of clothes, toppled on top of one another like she was made of leathers, furs and teeth. Like she was a monstrous wild-woman lumbering out of the woods, chin cocked in defiance. Certain people look strange, even in a sea of people, and tend to stick out like sore thumbs, let alone how they're dressed. Signe, however way you look at it, falls under that category. Broad-shouldered and corded with well-tended muscles, Signe bleeds and sings of strength thought solely reserved for men; and she is proud of this, as well. Perpetually narrowed eyes give the impersonation of a predator seeking out an inkling of weakness; devoid of fear and entirely composed of a hawk-like ruthlessness. Her grittiness foils any idea of potential aristocracy, or civil cooperation, lying underneath those heavy eyes, smudging it's dirty fingers across her nose in rebellion. Free women walk with their shoulders squared, and Signe is no different save that her rolling gait is purposeful, threatening; neatly coiled, as if she were biding her time to strike. Her specific genetic-traits are difficult to trace, human or daemon; with a small, round blunt nose, bowed lips, dark lower eyelids, slightly pointed ears with slivers notched across the upper helix and kudu-like horns spiralling from the crown of her head. Peculiar, indeed.

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Hair: Thick dark-brown locks, often matted and in complete disarray. She usually keeps it pulled into complex braids and warrior-tails, rigged with beads, feathers and animal teeth. Her bangs are often streaked with colored paints, depending on her current affairs; white for assured victory and red for something much more sinister.

Eyes: Disconcertingly wolfish, Signe has amber eyes, leaning towards golden-brown.

Build: Masculine; brawny, broad-shouldered while still retaining some of her feminine curves. And while she may have a warrior's build, she's limber enough to maintain her speed and agility—she's a handbag mixture of strength, endurance and speed.

Skin Tone: Fairly pale, though she is dapple-skinned across her back, forearms, legs and neck.

Height: 5'7”

Weight: 145lbs

Voice: Unusually sensual given her frigid temperament, but somehow suiting whenever she trades quips or verbally abuses someone. Generally utilizing low manner of speech and impersonal honorifics, or none at all, Signe can come off as generally rude and uncivilized. Her voice can drop strikingly low; guttural and difficult to understand. She, too, can surprisingly sing. Her singing voice is unusual, unique and certainly not to everyone's tastes. It does cause quite a stir.

Handed: Ambidextrous; prefers right-hand.

Body Markings: Light brown dapple-markings span across the larger portion of her shoulders, back and neck; as well as her forearms, legs, feet and hands. Her hands and feet appear to be marked with little more than sunspots and freckles, while the larger portions of her body appear to be marked with patches, varying hands-width.

Scar Tissue: Of course, Signe has an accumulation of scars. Trophies of battle, signs that she must improve, mistakes she's made and learned from. She is a warrior, after all. A prominent slash stretches from her collarbone to the back of her neck—as if someone had clumsily sliced a knife from behind and failed to find her tender throat. Various scars, most white and dull with age, line her midsection and knuckles. There is a notable scar across the bridge of her nose, spanning down the left side of her cheek.

Unique Body Features: Her hands are gnarled, monstrous things. All thanks to her daemonic lineage, it is clear that she is not entirely human by glancing down at her hands. And while she may, or may not, cover them up for the sake of not having swords constantly drawn in her presence, Signe is a stubborn soul. From her elbows downwards, Signe's arms are nearly coal-black; though, still dappled with lighter patterns. Where the skin should be, there lies segmented plates, arranged much like gauntlets; though, they end up thick, reptilian claws. White spiral-symbols are etched into the plates, somewhat similar to tribal tattoos.

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Name
Signe Solveigdottir

Nickname
Si (Pronounced sigh)

Race
Daemon

Visual Age
Late twenties, early-thirties

Factual Age
196

Gender
Female

Sexual Orientation
Unknown

Title
She's been given many names over the years; some not-so-flattering and others which are overly violent and often exaggerated. Signe the Impaler, the Wildling Queen, the Red Devil, Black Hands, the she-bitch, the Crow Queen and whatever else she's heard down the line of gossip-spreaders. She does not care for titles. She only demands respect.

Class
Ranger

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Personality
Do humans have a purpose when they are born? Do daemons? Important duties, dreams and ambitions they wish to fulfill. A reason for living and something close to their hearts they wish to keep chasing even when their circumstances seem bleak—these are things that keep Signe from staggering. These are the questions that keep her firmly planted, immovable. Perhaps, most dangerous of all, is her steely determination to achieve her dream. In a world where villains seem much more honorable, Signe is certainly not above employing violence and trickery to get what she wants, what she needs. Blood calls for blood, and she will spill it until she forces the world to change; for her people, for everyone who suffers. She believes that she is justice. Make no mistake, Signe has little compunction about killing someone, anyone, to move forward. If it's strategically sound, then she will dirty her hands with little hesitation, at all. She also understands the transience of life, she knows the cost of taking a life, and so her ability is tempered with a significant amount of discipline and control. The wildling draws a fine distinction between control and duty; a leader must be willing to throw away her humanity to overcome greater monsters.

Say what you want about her abrasive methods, but she already knows what she wants and is not afraid to actively seek it out. Like a hound sniffing out a bone or galloping after a hare, Signe is relentless in her pursuits. Hardly anything will deter her—though, behind that tough exterior, she does care about those who serve her enough to make decisions based on their well-being. Safely retreating to regroup or recovering from an impossible battle may seem weak to her and even to those who fight alongside her, Signe will do what she must. She is not foolish whilst carrying the lives of many, for it is a burden she is honoured to bear. Few question her orders, fewer still have lived to refuse. She commands a great deal of respect, acts often of her own volition, and refuses to be cowed by others. Etiquette and manners are lost on her, and very difficult to instill. She doesn't stand on formality and loathes the hierarchical power structures that strictly define the relationships between superiors and subordinates, therefore, Signe treats her fellow rebels as equals, standing on the same platform. It may be why she's so popular among the ranks; if anyone has any useful opinions, or pertinent information, then they're encouraged to step up.

An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, an evil for an evil. While Signe's beliefs may be strictly black-and-white, she is capable of bending and shifting her viewpoints, though it takes much to achieve such a feat. Admitting that she made a mistake is like pulling teeth, but she'll yield if her fault is impossible to ignore. She is the full embodiment of extremes and intensity. She is a very deep and intense person, there is always more than meets the eye. The wildling presents a cool, detached and unemotional air to the world, while lying underneath is tremendous power, extreme strength, intense passion and a strong will and a persistent drive. She is a box of surprises; mostly unpleasant. Few can attest to weathering her weighty personality. Or tolerate her unintentional rudeness for longer than a few minutes. Others have learned that there are simply ways she operates.

Signe is not naturally in tune with the feelings of others or even with her own feelings; she has trouble communicating her emotions, and when she does she does it best through actions rather than words. Struggling to spit out well-meaning words and mangling them in the process only flusters her further. She can come across as anything from stiff to completely insensitive. There is, however, often little malice behind her behaviour in these situations; she truly does care about others, but often finds the intricacies of emotion rather puzzling and illogical, especially when it comes to toning down her blunt manner of speaking. She is open to listening and can be made to understand others’ emotional needs with some slow explanation, though this does not necessarily mean she will accommodate them. If it is beyond her means, and she does not feel comfortable, Signe won't budge an inch. She's not a showy peacock—or a political chameleon, and sometimes, she just sucks at bonding when feelings are involved.

She is difficult to understand, to be sure.

Quirks

• Signe is prone to pacing even if she hasn't been standing in one place for long. It keeps her focused, keeps her from feeling as if something bad will happen. As long as she feels ready, then she's comfortable.
• She always, always wakes up at the crack of dawn.
• Conversations are unorganized, messy things—full of pauses and interruptions and topic changes and assorted awkwardness. Long-winded speeches make her nervous, so her speeches are often clipped and as direct as she's capable of making them.
• She snorts when she laughs too hard.

Moral Alignment
Neutral Evil

Virtue/Creed
“Victory comes with sacrifice; I am willing to throw away my humanity.”

Motivation
All men and women are not created equally; that is what her world has taught her. Some are born stronger, swifter or with greater beauty and privilege; while others may be born into poverty or into shackles, feeble or weak. Every person is treated inherently different—separated by birth, by race, by country and gender. She wishes to erase all of those distinctions. Gnash her teeth into everything that separates them, and pave a new path for everyone. She would be lying if she said that she hadn't been directly motivated because of how daemon's are treated, but Signe's goals have evolved over the years. Now, she only wishes for change; to bring the Messiah Queen to her knees and eradicate anyone who feels that they should be oppressed, solely because they do not believe in their crooked religion.

Fears

• Signe is not particularly fond of enclosed areas; caves or caverns and unusually small houses, as well. Open spaces and wide fields are where she thrives. She shies away from stuffy buildings, even castles can seem restricting. They make her feel as if she can't breathe properly.
• While she may never show, or speak of it, she is absolutely terrified of letting those she cares about down. She fears failing her mission and failing her people so completely that she's forced to take drastic measures. Or make horrible sacrifices. She fears being the cause of countless deaths, of squandering the lives of those who are loyal to her. She fears making mistakes. Failure is not an option. It never was.
• Unsurprisingly, she does not fear death. Warriors seldom do. She does not welcome it, either. It is simply a fact of life—experienced by all, no matter how strong or privileged you are. Signe does fear losing her limbs in combat or being rendered an invalid, incapable of defending herself or carrying on in life with all of her physical capabilities.

Goal
To completely eradicate social and racial differences in all of kingdoms, wiping out the structures that directly cause suffering to her people, as well as those born to lower stations. Her second, newer, goal is to destroy the foundations that the Messiah Queen works upon; shatter her religion, destroy her ruthless reign. Killing her would be a feasible solution, so she has added another name to her growing list.

Likes

• Great displays of strength; showy abilities.
• Sacred dances; circle, grass and drumming.
• Independent women.
• Unexpected bouts of courage.
• The art and skill required of hunting.
• Walking barefeet.
• Tattoos and unusual markings.

Dislikes

• Half measures and unfinished business.
• Intrigue, politics and baldfaced-liars.
• Weakness and cowardice.
• Oppression and being controlled.
• Crowded places.

Strengths
Signe is widely renown for being strong-willed, incredibly persistent and brave. She has a firm belief system, always keeps her promises and has learned to be quite adaptive. She always finishes what she starts; half-measures are for lazy people. Contrary to what people may tell you, Signe is considerably nonjudgmental; tolerate of gender, races, beliefs and whatever else that is considered different. She has no qualms with the manner in which people live, which is why she's a particularly good leader; recruiting people others may have turned away. While it is difficult to befriend her, once the difficult deed is accomplished; there is no greater ally. Staunch and reliable to a fault, Signe's loyalty is not something that can be easily shaken off. Arguments, squabbles, fallout's don't matter squat. If she considers you a friend or family, she has your back.

Weaknesses
Impulsive and hot-headed. Those two facets of her personality can at times be overpowering and they often leave the subtler, and more important details of the wildlings psyche markedly unnoticed. Her poor sleeping habits tend to leave her feeling exhausted and sometimes less alert then she'd like to be. Most notably, Signe's greatest weakness is her abrasive attitude; she's arrogant, stubborn, and rebellious. She tends to chafe under too many restrictions. She's reckless with her own life and far too stubborn to stand down when she should, while refusing to budge once she's made a decision. Quick to offend, slow to forgive (if ever). Talking with people isn't really her thing; sociability and niceties are lost to her. In the woods, creatures bond differently; they respect each other, silently. These are habits she carries with her, as awkwardly as they translate to human beings. Because of her tendency to being on edge; constantly alert and somewhat twitchy, Signe can be prone to paranoia. Suspecting enemies where there are none. Incurring her wrath is not a hard task and if you venture to openly spit in her eye, she will make it a personal mission of hers to see those insults returned back to you ten-fold.

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Helmet: She's never taken racial slurs personally—certainly, not when they're directed at her. And though she's proud of her mixed lineage, she understands when it is necessary to conceal, not reveal, herself as someone different. Specifically when she's forced into situations where diplomacy is require; which she hates and avoids like the plague, but leaders are require, at times. The helmet consists of, for the most part, a steel skull cap and face mask that provides coverage to the top, back, front, and sides of the head, although it is short enough that it doesn't cover the entirety of the lower head and face. The upper portion of the helmet has been removed entirely, accommodating her horns so they nearly appear as if they're part of the helm itself. She generally keeps her thick hair pulled into a messy warrior's tail when it's in use, riddled with falcon feathers.

Armour: Armour is restrictive, clumsy and prevents her from moving the way she wishes. This is not to say that she dislikes others wearing it, but Signe prefers to dress lightly and move quickly, unimpeded by jangling plates and ring mail. Over her clothes, she wears a thick brown leather, short-sleeved jerkin which falls a few inches below her waist. She wears a single leather pauldron on her right shoulder, rigged with a chest harness that attaches to the jerkin itself. No armour is needed for her arms, as they are hard enough on their own—and appear as if they were forged gauntlets, anyway. Only upon closer inspection are they seen for what they truly are.

Clothes: Generally, Signe wears a mode-podge of clothes all fashioned and layered together or very little, when she can accord to be lax. Under normal circumstances, she wears a wool tunic made of lighter materials, often ripped and frayed from careless use, in varying shades of white, green and browns. Half of the time the sleeves have been removed entirely to enhance her range of movement or rolled up to her elbows, hiding the ornately decorated hems. Either that or varying makes of sheepskin vests. Flashiness does not concern her. She wears calf-high leather boots with bear teeth sewn into the laces. The full-length lace-up front allows for perfect tailoring. She still prefers to walk about barefoot, but understands the necessity of footwear. Of course, Signe has never even worn a dress, only trousers. She wears dark brown trousers; fitting loose in the waist and thigh and tapering down to a straight lower leg. Draped over her shoulder is the hide of a pale-brown wolf; masterly crafted into a cape, it's front paws and head still attached. She wears a broad leather belt around her waist, cinched loosely. Depending on the weather, Signe might wear much more fur; trimmed over her boots, made into a headdress or around her collar.

Accessories:

• Handmade leather water bottle, crafted by her mother, with plaited leather shoulder straps and a wooden stopper, hard-boiled and lined with beeswax. Brown in colour and decorated with bright beads.
• A round leather pouch is tucked into her tunic, holding whatever coin she needs. She also carries a much larger rectangular pouch which she keeps on her person; filled with unknown materials.
• A small bull's horn bugle as well as a medium-sized drinking horn; polished and fitted with a leather shoulder strap.

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Combativeness

Hand-to-Hand Combat:
[Good] Signe is a wild, snarling brawler through and through. Everyone, in her opinion, should be proficient in unarmed combat—they have two arms, two hands, and two legs after all. She has her own unique style, though it appears unrefined and undisciplined to anyone who is watching. She is capable of doing great harm with her body; one which she has crafted into a living weapon focused towards aggression. She has become proficient in making better use of her surroundings in a fight. Physically directing a brawl as to position an opponent toward a disadvantage; utilizing any means possible. It is always life and death in her eyes, unless it is a friendly duel. Either way, she's just as likely to throw in cheap shots, purely out of habit.

Melee Combat:
[Excellent] This is where Signe shines brightest—her uncanny ability when wielding two axes. They are smaller, of course. Small enough to be hidden behind shields or the flaps of your cloak and even quicker to strike out against unwitting enemies. She's fully capable of hooking vulnerable parts to throw her enemies off balance, and quickly ending things with a fatal blow coming from her second axe. Compelling her enemies to move in the direction she wants to by hooking her axe around their necks, and dragging them in the distance of her fellow rebels, has always been a favoured technique. Pulling away shields, hooking ankles, piercing throats and disorientation by using the flat end of her axe. Her weapon has many uses, including chopping wood. Her preferences are clear, but she does not feel restricted. The arena's of Hohak have taught her a valuable lesson: be fluid in your weapon choices, adapt and conquer.

Ranged Combat:
[Above Average] She is impressively accurate when throwing spears and axes, while she's only sub-par when notching and loosing arrows. With practice, she's sure that she'll improve in the archery department, but her axes have never let her down thus far. Errant spears usually find their mark; straight through the backs of her enemies.

Magic Combat:
[Very Poor] Magical abilities? What's that? There isn't a magical bone in her body. Her capabilities are nearly nonexistent. Honestly, even if Signe were capable of anything remotely magical, she doesn't think that she would. It's far too impersonal, though she is still besot at the idea of conjuring fire from her fingertips. She has no qualms against mages or witches, either.

Mounted Combat:
[Good] What can she say? Horses seem to like her well enough. True horsemanship relies solely on your relationship with the horse in question; everything else, she believes, simply falls into place. Riding is as natural as breathing; it's an extension of herself. How anyone can dislike riding is beyond her. She feels like she's flying in full gallop. Warfare on horseback only makes sense, and while she prefers using her axes on the ground for manoeuvrability sake, Signe can switch things up and use throwing spears.

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Hard-Headed:
[Good] Signe can and will headbutt you if you're close enough. Now, that might not seem very threatening if you didn't know that the horns attached to her helmet were actually coming out of her skull. Those gracefully twirling horns can easily impale someone should she crane her neck a certain way and charge into her enemies exposed face or midsection; they're certainly sharp enough to pierce through flesh. Discrimination aside, they have their uses.

Enhanced Strength:
[Above Average] There are certain advantages to being someone with mixed blood; daemons are unusually strong. She has the incredible ability to defy weight limitations for someone of her stature. Capable of lifting twice her weight and maintaining a comfortable walking pace, Signe does not mind being treated as a mule. Dense, lengthy, or overweight items are easy to move and simple to use in nearly any manner. She can crush, lift, throw, or catch items of great weight—in comparison to a human, in any case.



Wilderness Survival:
[Excellent] Signe has lived, for the most part of her life, in and out of civilization. She much prefers rugged terrain an honest living to being bundled up in a stuffy city. Over the years, she has learned to tell time by studying where the sun lies in the sky, and usually, predict when the weather is about to change. She utilizes her sense of hearing, smell, and sight to get a feel for the environment; and is able to determine the pattern of the area and get a feel for what is going on around her. She's familiar with animal and bird noises; movements and the sounds that insects make. She is one who does not require civilization in order to survive. She has transcended the need for any outside assistance on any level; she is one with the wild and can survive without civilization indefinitely. Anything and everything the she needs can be gained from her environment.

Improvise and Adapt:
[Above Average] Improvisation is key. Specifically if all of your comforts are forcefully stripped away and you're forced to make due with what you have. While consciously prepared for the worst, Signe has tempered her ability to adapt to nearly any situation, making her a formidable foe, indeed. Any piece of equipment can be used for something else, and nature has always provided her with a bounty of useful tools. She has no fear of running out of her provisions; anything can be eaten, after all. Insects, the innards of bark, tree roots and bulbs, herbs and flowers, bees nests, birds and amphibians. With little materials, Signe is capable of crafting efficient snares and traps.

High Pain Tolerance:
[Above Average] She has seen a lot and felt even more. Much like practising swordsmanship and improving upon your abilities, Signe's registry of pain has become dulled over the years. Her injuries are numerous; battles, fist fights, duels and gladiator tournaments. She still feels pain as anyone else does (unless her arms are the limbs in question suffering the abuse) but has grown used to tolerating it and brushing it off as a nuisance. She treats it just as another of her bodies sensations. Breath control and frequent meditation play a large role in this. As long as she's capable of drawing breath, pain is unimportant.



Stalking Silently:
[Excellent] When someone says that you may not noticed Signe sneaking up on you in the dead of the night or that you just may never wake up in the first place, it isn't that far from the truth. Covering herself in charcoal paints and wearing leafy-clothes, or disguising herself as a peasant-girl is not beyond her capabilities. She is quiet. She is determined. She does not give up once she's given chase. She understands how animals stalk and move, pushing their prey onto uncertain grounds and striking when weaknesses arise.

Herbalism Knowledge:
[Good] Poisoning a victim is as effective as stabbing them, but with very little mess or chance of failure. The poisons she keeps on her person are mostly organic based, harvested from the woods, but some were taken from animals. Poisonous toads, blow fish bought from the fish market and particular fungi are generally used; but, plants such as rhubarb and tomato leaves, in large concentrations, also work just as well. Spiders and scorpions were also used. Her favourite and most simple poison, the amanita phalloides, is a deadly mushroom. Eating the mushroom was certain death. Simple to slip into any meal. While she does not employ these skills often, Signe has no qualms using them to exterminate irritations.

Living Compass:
[Above Average] Signe, like sailors and pirates, uses the stars to navigate at night. However, she's discovered many ways to tell which direction to travel in. One is through the use of a tree stump. If she comes across the stump of a tree, she simply looked at the growth rings to tell which direction was North. The rings become narrower and closer together as they approach North and wider and further apart as they approach South. Another way was to use three branches and the sun; studying the shadow cast behind them.

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Items

• A jasper charm molded into the shape of a leaf.
• An assortment of small carved bone animals; namely jaguar, wolf and hawk. Bobcat claws, wolf claws, bear teeth, leather-bound feathers, eagle claws, tufts of fur and a rabbits paw.
• Small glass vials with an mixture of smelly herbs, clay powders in varying colours and scented oils.

Weapon
Weapon Name: Vegeir (meaning, great sacrifice)
Weapon Type: Bearded Axe
Material: Steel
Length: 27 inches
Weight: 5lbs
Weapon Description/Info: Nothing out of the ordinary. It has served her well—a steel battleaxe, incredibly worn with its fair share of nicks and scars. She cannot remember where, exactly, she acquired it, but it has peculiar designs etched into the shaft. It is hardly legible though.

Weapon Name: Wyborn (meaning, war bear)
Weapon Type: Battle Axe
Material: Steel
Length: 28 inches
Weight: 5lbs
Weapon Description/Info: Much more ornate than it's brother-axe, Signe received Wyborn in a tournament of strength and valour. Proudly won in Ruhar in her youth, it has already tasted many battles. The designs, and structure, are obviously made by daemon hands. Swirling markings in the steel and a curved shaft designed for easy handling. Beautifully crafted, indeed.

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Group Affiliation
Rebellion Faction; Black Hands

Marital Status
Very single, very noncommittal

Relatives
Aekkif Solveigdottir – Deceased – Mother
Dailo Solveigdottir – Alive – Father

Origin
Taomar, Hohak

Social Rank
Mercenary scum-bucket, now Rebellion Leader and wanted criminal; probably dead rather than alive.

Occupation
Leading a rebellion, mostly. She used to be a mercenary and pirate, but those days are long behind her. Now, she utilizes her swarthy skills for subterfuge, sneakery and natural leadership.



History
Signe's childhood was mostly normal and so was she. Born in the rugged city of Hohak and raised by her loving mother and father, Aekkif and Dailo—she wanted for nothing and learned much between the two. Some may have called her a traitor for leaving her homeland behind and consorting with a monster, but they loved each other. She was human, and he: a daemon. His mother was allowed to live within the gates of Taomar alongside her husband, where they built their own comfortable, homey estate. Such a small creature had been capable of bringing her father to tears. Bright-eyed and groping for everything that neared her crib, she reached out with clawed fingers and hardly ever crying. They named her Signe, after Dailo's great-grandmother: a warrior-woman in her own right. The misty morning Signe Solveigkottir was born, her mother would say, the earth trembled with joy. The skies cheered so enthusiastically that it rained and the seas danced against the shoreline. The winds themselves sang through their windows. And carrying with them were all of the spirits that made up the forests, the seas, the skies and all of its creatures. Death, she would say, did not mean ceasing to exist. It meant to pass on; once someone had grown too full of greatness, they would jump and fly on the strongest breeze and pass on their gifts.

With a tenderness that surprises those around her, the wildling remembers her mothers voice most of all. Singing gentle lullabies when she woke in the middle of the night. She chased her nightmares away, promised that as soon as she was finished kissing her knuckles, all of her monsters would disappear. She'd chased them out the windows, after all. Never in her life had she felt so worn out, so tired, dirty and happy. She swore that half the time she wasn't sure what she was doing or maybe she wasn't doing it right—or maybe this, maybe that. It didn't matter. They were a family, finally. And to Dailo, having his own daughter and a wife by his side, he couldn't have been a happier man. She was beauty and she was hope, she was the life-giving rain on his dry earth. Before meeting her, he'd been a wandering soul. No purpose, no direction. People disliked daemons wherever they went because they were afraid; not her. She was different.

She'd never been much of a lady; no one understood that better than her mother. It would never come naturally to her. The issue had never been pushed or discussed. In a community that hardly followed the same principles of nobility and hierarchical structures, such things were pointless. Honestly, her father was grateful that he had a rough-housing rascal for a daughter. The only daughter. There were no other children after Signe, and they were content dealing with one scraggly-wolverine ripping things to shreds and attempting to climb on everything she wasn't supposed to. They had their hands full with one, so they focused their efforts on teaching her how to be kind, how to defend herself, how people may judge her for her appearance and how to handle that. She took to any lessons involving physical activity, which her father mainly dolled out. He'd been a seafaring mercenary, sailing the seas where no one would even bat an eye at him. So, he began teaching her what he knew of the seas, of navigation and reading the skies.

She was a trouble maker as a child, always getting into things she shouldn't and causing problems because of her lack of caring what others though of her and how she spent his time. Scampering barefoot through the streets, always knocking barrels and crates over as she went. She would sneak into places and frequently get into fistfights; mostly losing but always coming back with a brimming (albeit bloody) grin. Really, as much as Signe followed the rules she broke them...

• Had difficulty making friends because of her behaviour, though she did make some close, similar-minded friends.
• Her mother took her under her wing and began teaching her about herbalism and shamanism when she turned ten; the arts of a witch.
• She received her first weapon, a dagger, from her father on her eleventh birthday.
• She was taken on a trip through Ruhar where she witnessed first-hand how differently certain people treated her; mainly human warriors. Initially discouraged by the name-calling, Signe's interest in the arena made her completely forget about all of the questions she had for her father. She promised, then and there, that she would someday fight in the arena; that she would be a great warrior, and that no one would disrespect them like that again.
• Her mother fell ill when she was on the cusp of womanhood, of having her first hunt. She seemed to be getting better but passed in the middle of the night, leaving a grieving daughter and husband behind.
• Dailo began taking his daughter along with him whenever he left the city; defending waggons, escorting bands, tilling farms, hunting and showing her what the world offered, should she choose her own path.
• Kills her first man; seventeen. Serves with her father in many caravans, but always returns to Hohak. Slowly begins adopting her mothers rituals, though she lacks any magical abilities.
• Finally takes part in one of Ruhar's tournaments, and does fairly well until she faces a much larger man who knocks off her helmet, pins her to the ground with his blade and spits in her face--not worth killing, he said. Dirty monster, he said. It would taint his blade, he said. She hated him, hated the way he walked away from her, even though it had resulted in her life being spared.
• Shortly thereafter, Signe leaves her homeland and promises her father that she will someday return. Changes must be made; internally and externally. She'd write him missives, and to this day, kept her promise. Joining mercenary bands and absorbing abilities, skills and experiences like a sponge, the wildling flourished in combat but struggled socially. She lived a half-life; partially in the woods, while the other half mingled in nearby villages, her daemon-traits concealed by a horned helm and loose gloves. Through the years, she gained friends, followers, shield-maidens and fellow warriors as allies. Her hardworking personality and masculine demeanour tended to attract, rather than repulse. Men who thought lowly of her were put in their place, usually when she demanded a duel to prove her might. Women were much more lenient. Her ambitions began to take shape as she continued to witness daemon's being mistreated, though she kept mostly to herself.
• Only when she'd seen a group of people, in a poor village, lashed and hung was her second ambition born; and a new enemy of the Messiah Queen arose.

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