Petyr Stormhold

Wayfarer Journal #298781

Child of two worlds, bound by neither. Or perhaps both.

That's what his mother used to say. Skinwalker is another way to put it. This one however is a bit different. Ulfens aren't known to be the most civilized of people and this one is no different. I was in Ustalev doing research on Lycanthropes. A dangerous project to be certain. The Shudderwood was a natural place to observe. The rumors there are ever present. While I still believe them to be true, I did not meet any 'true' Lycanthropes, I did however meet Petyr Stormhold.

I found him while setting up camp one night. Perhaps for accuracy sake, I should say he found me.  I often considered myself quite the woodsman, but I didn't hear a thing until his ax was beside my neck.

"Why are you here," he asked me. "This isn't your place."

Somewhat flustered, I tried to convince him that I meant no harm. I was seeking information only. When I told him what I sought, he laughed a terrifying laugh.

"So you're a superstitious fool then," was his response. I admit I took some offense to that, but wasn't in a position to argue. When I asked him what he meant, he continued.

"There are werewolves in this forest. A few. Especially around the full moon, which you should thank your gods that this isn't. They're here...  but not common. More wolves are living in the city than in the woods. Better hunting there. Easier to hide. Either way wandering the woods looking for bloodthirsty monsters is something only a fool does. Go home before something worse than me finds you." Fool or not, I felt relief as he lowered his ax and started to walk away.

Now, fool I may be. He isn't the first to make the accusation and I hope he won't be the last. However I am at heart a curious fool. I couldn't just let him vanish into the woods. I could tell I was annoying him but persisted. He was a large man. Easily Six and half feet tall with long blonde hair and a wicked scar that ran the length of his left cheek and down toward his shoulder. He wielded a large battle ax with two smaller ones on his belt. That alone should have warned me off. However it wasn't until I heard that deep dark growl and saw his eyes begin to glow a golden red in the dark that I truly realized my folly.

"You're one of them!" I must have exclaimed and he stopped short. His eyes resumed their prior blue and he shook his head.

"No... I'm something else."

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He led me to a makeshift shelter near a cave and told me his story. I'm not sure why. Heaven knows I'm not that persuasive, but I suspect on some level he was lonely. When I saw where he was living, I wondered how long it had been since he'd had a civilized conversation.

His father was Ulfen and he was born in the northlands. He explained that he was what we call 'Skinwalker'. Similar to a Lycanthrope, but different enough. Typically either touched by nature, or having the lycanthrope blood somewhere in his ancestry. Petyr was the latter. His grandfather and Great-grandfather were both werebears. Generally noble and trustworthy creatures who defend their territory from evil. Honestly if you're dealing with a Lycanthrope, hope it's a werebear. However, don't take their benevolence for granted. His father did not inherit the power. His mother on the other hand was where things got unusual. His mother was infected by a werewolf. The worst of the worst, but she had been fighting the curse for years with some success. Their son was a biological disaster.

Petyr is torn between the two and yet has access to both. Violence and peace. Serenity and Rage. He spent his childhood becoming one with nature and the beasts around him. His kin were followers of the Green Faith. Nature and balance. Protecting nature when you and a general dislike for city life. He found he could shift his form to take on aspects of the wolf or the bear... but he could also 'connect' with other animal aspects as well. Bats, Frogs, mouse, owl... the possibilities are endless enough to make me wonder if this was indeed a case of parentage or perhaps there was some kind of deific influence on him. He didn't know and worse he didn't care. He scoffed at any mention of returning to Absolom with me for further research.

He was raised in the Land of the Linnorm Kings but when his parents died, he started wandering. He didn't much like civilization and community, staying near the outskirts whenever possible. Being near nature seems to steady him. Some kind of meditative quality that keeps the beasts at bay that I'll never understand. The more he studied the more he was able to maintain control. However I could tell it was imperfect at best. There was still a rage in there and he admitted that sometimes it got the better of him. He was quite dangerous when he got angry. He tried to focus it on 'the bad guys' as he put it, but when it comes to the Green Faith, I'm not sure we'd agree on what that meant.

I asked him why he found his way to the Shudderwood. He simply shrugged and said something about keeping the monsters all together. Perhaps, he chuckled, it was some divine providence to save the life of stupid Pathfinders. I couldn't really see the flaw in that argument. I told him about the island of Kestrillian and how they were an island full of monsters and was sure to have some foolish Pathfinders to save. He laughed, but on further inspection I think his interest looked piqued.

I filled two notebooks of his tales of his journey's from the frozen north to the dark Ustalv forest. Some felt too extraordinary to be true, but I found I believed him. When I finally left his cave, it was almost dawn. I returned to civilization with stories for the Society, even if they weren't the ones I was hoping for.