A hearty hunter of the frigid north, Arnolf’s skin is wind-burnt and weathered by long nights in the snowy Wolfswood. His body is built like a barrel, with a decent amount of muscle packed under a modest mass of fat. Furs and leathers are usually seen adorning his body, with a short beard providing the rest of the warmth for his face. His nearly bald head is usually seen with a hood drawn over it to keep warm.
As told by Cregan, Arnolf’s best client for meats and skins. Embellishment abound
So ye want t’know who bloody *Arnolf* is, boy? What, have ye lived undah rock all ye life? ‘Es the best huntah we ‘ave ‘ere in the North! Picked up ‘is first bow ‘fore he could walk, he did. Shot ‘is first deer with ‘is fathah at five, his first wolf at six, first bear at ten. Skinned ‘em all himself. (Hunting, and the beginnings of martial adept-ability)
Real mans man, that one! If we needed food, he’d jus’ go out ‘n get it, no questions asked, no failure. That man supplies half m’stocks of venison, mayhaps those shoes’a yours are from his deer hide. An essential part of our little community ‘ere, boy, so ye can imagine ah heartbreak once we ‘erd he was gettin’ drafted to go fight in some southron fool’s war! War a’the Seven Bannahs… what nonsense.
T’say I was worried would be makin’ a mockery of it, but the lad pulled through, he did! Grabbed the first bow he could, I ‘erd, and shot three bulls eyes to get his spot! Grabbed the first sword he could and knocked out a knight when they wouldn’ believe ‘em! Needless t’say, he earned his spot with the archers, ‘an proved it in combat. We had no better bowman in Essos those days, or spearman when they got too close, swordsman if they got *real* close. (Bows, solidifying his martial adept-ability)
Less cheery, that one, once ‘e got back from the war. Got ‘emself a wife though, Kyra, real pretty lass. Only time I ever saw ‘em smile was ‘round ‘er aftah the war. Had a little cabin not too far from Wintertown, an a few kids too. Closer t’ the deer, ye see. A mistake I’d say.
I don’t know what happened out there, an’ I don’t like makin’ assumptions, but all I knows is that ‘e claims a pack of wolves settled near ‘em, said a large one, a direwolve ‘e says, lead ‘em. Had a few sheep disappear ‘round ‘ere at the time, so I won’t deny ‘em. Some folks though… Fuck ‘em, fuck it, I won’t indulge ‘em. I’ll let the graves speak for ‘emselves, and that massive pelt he keeps. There’s a reason ‘e don’t speak much when ‘es in town. (Expert in hunting)
‘Nuffa that, boy. If ye lookin’ for ‘em, tough. ‘Es with the othahs over at Barrowton. Dealin’ with that cunt “King”.
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