Gildra Wildmane
Gildra Wyldscorn
Gildra Wildmane was a force of nature, a whirlwind in a world of stone and iron. Her untamed auburn hair spilled wildly down her back like the mane of the wolves she admired, her amber eyes always gleaming with fierce determination. Born into a family of highland hunters, Gildra was raised in the wilds of the Firefang Jags, where she learned to track beasts and wield a bow with deadly accuracy. Her wiry, muscular frame belied her strength, forged not in the safety of a hearth but in the untamed wilderness where she thrived. A scar, a remnant of a bear hunt gone wrong, cut across her cheek, only enhancing the wild beauty of her face. Her tattoos, intricate patterns of wolves and mountain peaks, coiled down her arms, inked with the essence of her spirit—free and untamable.
Gildra met Torand Graybore during a supply run to the Graybore Quarry, where she traded furs for tools. The stoic, silver-haired dwarf was unlike anyone she’d ever known—solid as the mountains he mined, unmoving in his quiet strength. Despite their differences, the fire between them was immediate and undeniable. They were married within a year, their bond as strong and wild as the elements that shaped them. Gildra brought chaos and laughter into Torand's life, where once there had been only work and duty. She was the storm to his rock, and together they created a life that balanced both.
Though she tried to settle into the more structured life of a miner’s wife, the wilds always called to her. She’d often disappear for days on end, returning with pelts, game, and stories of her ventures. It was in the wilderness that she was most alive, and it was there that she met her end. Gildra was caught in a sudden storm while hunting in the upper peaks of the Firefang Jags. Known for her resilience, she pushed forward, but the storm was relentless, and a deadly fall from a cliff claimed her life. Her body was found two days later, cradled by the jagged rocks she so loved, her bow still gripped in her hand.
Her death shattered the Graybore family. Oli, only 12 at the time, took it the hardest. Without his mother’s wild heart to guide him, he grew restless and reckless, much to Torand’s frustration. Gildra’s legacy lived on in her son’s fire, though Torand never quite found peace after losing her. He buried her beneath a towering oak in the hills, where the wind could always touch her, and the wild animals could roam free over her resting place. To this day, the Graybore family speaks of her as a legend—a wild heart that could never be tamed, even in death.