Arthfael of Brú

I am the hand of the Bear, the voice of the Weald. Where my brother Wulfrik is the guide through shadowed paths, I am the shield at the forest’s edge. When he hears the whispers of the Hunt, I hear the growl of the Earth itself.

I was not always so. Once, I was but a druid among the trees of Berkwald, keeper of groves and healer of beasts. But one winter, when the hunters came with fire and iron, I stood alone at the edge of our sacred vale. They burned, they cut, and when my strength faltered, I cried out to the forest for aid. It was then the Bear Spirit came — vast, terrible, and kind. It did not speak with words, but pressed its paw upon my soul. In that moment I felt the pain of every broken branch, the roar of every storm, and the strength to endure them all. From that night onward, I was no longer only myself — the bear walks within me, and I within it.

So now I stand with Wulfrik. Where he is the wolf who guides the Hunt, I am the bear who brings judgment. Together we walk as Wyrdens of the Wylds, not to bring war upon men, but to remind them: the old spirits endure. Those who would honor the Wylds will find us guardians at their side. Those who would defile them will face us both — wolf and bear, fey and druid, claw and root.