Born to Springer and Spidersilk of Lostholt, Quickfall is every bit as stubborn as either of his parents. Early in his fourteenth year, he chose to live permenantly at Grove Holt, where he had spent much of his life. From his mother, he inherited a belief that _everyone_ -- even humans -- has some good in them, and the lad has put a great deal of time and energy into learning the human tongue and befriending members of the Hoan G'Tay Sho tribe. One of his closest friends there is the young woman Cira, and much to the distress of his elders, he often disappears for days, visiting the Hoan tribe and learning what he can about humans.
His other fondness, besides for humanlore, is for playing the flute, a talent he discovered fairly young. When in the holt, he can often be found entertaining the cubs with his music.
I retired from playing Quickfall in mid-December 1997. The character is set reserved and available to play. If you are interested in playing him, please email me and we'll discuss it!
Daughter of the destroyed holt called Shattered Rivers, MistWeaver is of Wolfrider and Plainsrunner descent. Having left the holt before the fire that burned it, she's wandered much of the World of Two Moons, watching holts and elves from a distance but rarely intruding on the lives she observes. Quiet and steadfast, she's difficult to rattle, but something has finally made her leave her solitary life in search of elves she might call friends.
Physically almost an exact double of her long-dead grand-aunt Rillfisher, MistWeaver's 'magic feeling' has lead her to the oft-shaped Grove Holt, where she feels a sense of peace...as well as a peculiar affinity with the Grove elder, Treestump.
Time proved MistWeaver more than a physical double to Rillfisher, but almost a spiritual one as well; time with Treestump opened unexpected memories, of a time in Bearclaw's holt that MistWeaver herself could not possibly remember. Had elves a way of learning such things, it might be found that MistWeaver's birth, just over a hundred turns past, had come two years after Rillfisher's death, and in a way, the child's body housed the heart and soul of the elder. A Wolfrider's spirit goes where it will, they have said, and MistWeaver's wandering heart lead her to the place where she could bid a farewell to her old beloved.
And a farewell it was, for MistWeaver contracted the magical plague that has haunted the elves for the past few turns, her magicfeeling erupting and feeding on itself until all that was left was her exausted flesh shell. Her last farewell was said on a riverbank, to the handsome old wolf whom she loved.