Roo was born Hjafardis Stjordvir, a noble name from a noble family that held titles and lands in and around the county of
|Self created name, TK, feel free to give her a proper location to have come from. |
She was the only female in the Stjordvir household, her mother having died giving birth to her, and had seven older brothers that alternately teased, protected and generally drove her stress levels through the roof.
She was raised with a firm but caring hand by her father and the housecarls that served them, knowing at an early age that she was a showpiece for Lord Stordvir. Much of her beauty and charm came to her at a far too early age, and life as a young noble woman became all drudgery and repetition as she was taught the finer points of needlecraft and etiquette. But she had made fast friends with another young noble woman, Ylva Roesone, whom was a rogue of a girl, her father actually teaching her how to handle a blade. Whenever visits were scheduled bewteen the two families, the girls spent hours upon end fencing and learning the ways of weapons together. Best friends forever, they swore!
In the winter of her tenth year Hjafardis had a near death experience. One day during that long winter she had been down at the river where she and other children gathered to put on wooden skates and take to the ice. Careless and lost in the moment, she had crossed the boundary where the local ice carvers had, only earlier that day, chipped out the great blocks of ice from the river surface to store away in the cold sheds.
Down she went, crashing through the thin ice and into the frigid waters below where she struggled valiantly, fighting with all her young strength and heart, but darkness finally closed over her and death came to claim its own. Yet fate had other plans as she was not lost under the ice, her clothing had snagged in an embeddened tree trunk, and she was pulled out of the dark waters after having been unconscious for near ten minutes. Blue and not breathing, she was brought back from death's door by the local Skald that had been enjoying the day of skating as well.
Two things happened in the days that followed as she recovered in a warm bed with a raging hearth at her side.
• Hjafardis vowed to take up the path of the Skald as a profession, the only way she had to repay her gratitude for the one that had rescued her.
• She started getting visits from spirits, her near death experiance thinning the veil of the boundaries between the world of the living and the dead. She has lived with this ever since, and it has been both a blessing and a curse.
Now as she aged through her teens, Hjafardis's beauty blossomed, a beauty to drive many men mad if they were to gaze upon her. Yet her once robust charms had darkened somewhat over the years as she endured visit after visit from the spectors of the spirit world, and suitors for her hand became few and far between. The year of her eighteenth birthday, Ylva's father, Lord Daven Roesone, paid a summer visit to come calling to ask for her hand in marriage, having lost his wife two years earlier. Her father, having seen far to many suitors drift away, gave his blessing to this union, and Hjafardis was betrothed to be the new Lady Roesone.
She was devastated!. Though she liked the older man, his family, and of course Ylva, there was nothing he offered that she was interested in. She begged her father to recant the betrothal, he refused. She begged her best friend to talk to her father, Daven, and get him to null the betrothel, but Ylva grew enraged at Hjafardis for even mentioning it. As a last resort, Hjafardis fled her manor house under cover of dark, intending to never look back, a small fortune of jewels in her purse.
She rode far away, took up the mantle of the Skald that had saved her so long ago, and changed her name.
Life.... had just gotten interesting.