Khione of Ginther
The brisk wind whistles as it weaves in and out of dead tree branches, reaching out like talons. It howls and screeches, attempting to push a small group of people back, threatening to cause the heavy, dense banks of snow to collapse. A steady stream of ice and gravel pelt down upon the already bleached white face of none other than a woman. Her skin is rough and coarse, toughened by the environment.
Her lips are permanently frozen into a scowl, chapped and dry, despite the heavy sleet raining down. Three stripes of cracked, faded, blue pain run across her eye vertically, another line is seemingly tattooed upon her chin, stopping at her lower lip. Matted, her once ebony hair has been dyed grey by the weather, white streaks making themselves known at the front of her scalp. It curls and lays restlessly upon her shoulders, like an enraged serpent.
Just in front of her now static feet stands a wooden spear. Her knuckles turn even whiter as her weathered hand fiercely grips the rough surface. The head of the spear gleams in the slight, almost non-existent, sunlight. She stands before the storm, facing it alone, head on, her tribe behind her.
She is Khione the She-Wolf, leader of the Clan of Ginther. A dirty white unidentifiable, animal pelt adorns her shoulders. The woman turns to reveal two curved marks on the side of her face, a black paint used for these two. Her simple tunic consists of an elaborate set of strappings, giving her an even more intimidating appearance.
Around her neck, a broken, woven necklace of cord has been pierced beneath her collarbones, a reminder to her people, to others, to Mother Nature, that she cannot be owned. Small, faint tattoos can be seen upon her skin. The Great Bear, Ursa Major, its likeness is carved upon the side of her neck, a rune sign, that of protection and strength can be found above her breastbone.
Letting loose a primal, guttural growl that even the fiercest of animals would shy away from Khione thrusts her spear up in the air as if saluting the heavens above. As she finishes her call the shouts and howls of her followers, her pack, echo through the sky. A rare, small smirk rests upon her aged lips. She is the She-Wolf, Mother of the Wild.