Life Story
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Nestled in a lush, mountainous valley lies a settlement called Ironwood. Deep within the surrounding forest dwelt terrifying monsters, the mountain terror, direbears.
The dwarves of Ironwood hunt them relentlessly, keeping their threat from spilling into the wider lands and earning the respect of neighboring races as steadfast guardians.
Yrsa was born into a family of Ironwood's most skilled hunters. Her father held the vital role of observing prey during group hunts and conveying their movements to the chief, who would direct the hunt. From her earliest days, Yrsa accompanied him through rugged forests and craggy slopes, learning the rhythms of nature, monitoring the movements of monsters, and gradually sharpening the subtle skill of interpreting every piece of information she gathered.
Yrsa had never been comfortable with conversation, and never opened up with anyone in the village. When she wasn't roaming the mountain paths, she delved deeply into books and carefully recorded the workings of the natural world. Among the dwarves, who prized fellowship above all else, she remained markedly out of step.
However, when it came to her keen eye for observation and her talent with a bow, no other youth could surpass her.
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Once Yrsa had amassed enough knowledge, she came to take part in the greatest task of all: the drive hunts of the direbears. In winter, when scarcity of food drove the direbears into a savage frenzy, they came stalking after humans. As autumn settled in, the dwarves busied themselves with the yearly task of readying their weapons and armor. Alongside them, Yrsa too prepared for the direbears, crafting arrows by the armload.
It was that winter when Yrsa's father was taken from her by the direbear.
It happened during the hunt, while everyone was closing in on a direbear that had wandered too near the Ironwood. From their flank, an especially massive direbear lunged through the lines, battering nearby dwarves clean off their feet. And then, with a brutal snap of its jaws, it latched onto her father and dragged him off into the wilds. Yrsa tried to give chase, but the shock left her legs trembling so violently she couldn't force them to carry her forward. The dwarves caught in the direbear's strike were slain outright, dropping where they stood.
Whether her father was alive or dead was uncertain. Yrsa insisted that she would go out and save her father, but the clanlord of the Ironwood only shook his head. Even so, Yrsa would not back down. In the Ironwood, there was a long-held belief that the soul of anyone taken by the mountain was not to return, never to be born again among dwarfkin.
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The clanlord bade her, time and again, to give up on rescuing her father. For should a direbear be robbed of its prey, it would hunt the thief to the very ends of the earth. So, should they try to take her father back, the Ironwood itself would bear the brunt.
The direbear that attacked her father was believed to be the leader of its pack-a particular specimen known as the White Calamity. Surely it was the mightiest and most cunning beast the mountain had ever birthed, and should one earn its wrath, the Ironwood would be bathed in blood.
But Yrsa refused to give in, her determination unbroken.
She moved through the forest in silence, carefully examining every detail as she traced the elusive path of the White Calamity. Observing the foes with unerring focus, she meticulously documented their actions and patterns.
When she came across the mounds where the White Calamity had hidden its food, she found it nearly impossible to restrain the urge to dig them up and see what lay beneath. Were she to dig into a mound, she might very well come across the remains of her beloved father. And, without knowing for sure what she might find, she could not jeopardize the safety of her village. Mulling over the dilemma for a time, Yrsa decided on her course and made her way toward the nearby elven village.
In defying the clanlord's order to leave her father alone, she knew she could no longer expect the dwarves to lend their aid. Still, by herself, no solution presented itself that could be called a good course of action. And so it came to her to learn the elves' way of hunting.
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Dwarves and elves were at odds with one another. The village of elves considered the Ironwood a safeguard, a natural bulwark against the White Calamity that kept their homes safe. The dwarves of the Ironwood looked upon elves with disdain.
Yet Yrsa journeyed to the elven village time and again, bowing her head with earnest humility each time she arrived. Shunned by her fellow dwarves, and regarded with wariness by the elves, she never wavered in her determination to reclaim her father while leaving the Ironwood unscathed.
All the while, the White Calamity prowled the forest. striking at the dwarves as they performed their drive hunt. By now, it knew the flavor of dwarves all too well. If the White Calamity was not hunted down, one by one the dwarves would be devoured. But should they go through with the drive hunt, an attack by the White Calamity was all but certain.
The choice was staric to fight, or to forsake their pride as guardians and flee. There, in the midst of the clanlord's plight, came a rapping at his door. Standing on the threshold as the great door swung wide stood Yrsa. drenched in blood.
"The White Calamity is finished..."
Though he had his doubts, the clanlord allowed Yrsa to lead him into the mountains. There, without any doubt, lay the lifeless corpse of the White Calamity.
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The White Calamity's corpse was wholly discolored by poison, its hide torn by countless wounds from traps, and both of its eyes ruined by well-placed arrows.
Harrying prey through prodigious use of traps and polson-such was the elven art of the hunt-where keen intellect and patience overcame brute strength. Persuaded by Yrsa's fierce resolve, and by the sober calculation that if the dwarves were hunted down, their own village would soon stand exposed to the direbear threat, the elves agreed to grant her their wisdom.
The dwarves found themselves divided. Some spoke in admiration of Yrsa's bowcraft, which pierced the White Calamity's eyes, and of the deep devotion she showed toward her father. Yet far more voices rose in condemnation, decrying her for defying the clanlord's order and taking assistance from elves. Yrsa had anticipated that this would happen. She placed the bones of her father and fallen companions, recovered from the White Calamity's lair, into their hands, then turned away and left the forest in deliberate silence.
Yrsa withdrew from the world, taking up a quiet life in a small, secluded cabin far from any community. Even so, rumors of the hero who had slain the White Calamity single-handedly spread in the blink of an eye, and soon folk of many races began to seek her out, asking to become her apprentices.