Jarlor Esketh - Bold spirit, Honorable man. (Old Norse)

A rustling in the forests, perhaps the padding of heavy footfalls. Or even the heavy. deep-throated breaths torn from the depths of powerful lungs would only be a few signs that Jarlor is nearby.

Should the foilage and canopies grant you sight for what lies within the forest's depths. your eyes would be locked on a being which look unmistakably human, though the proportions of his form would make you wonder wherever he was descended from a hill giant, or a troll, his corded arms, his broad chest, his thighs the size of a tree trunk make Jarlor an impressive specimen of nature.

Standing a head taller then what most would label a "Tall" man. He looks young by features, no older then his early thirties. though his eyes hold a level of intuition of which could be attained by harsh, gruelling experience.

His temperment is one akin to the whims of nature itself. always speculating, always judging, he may be the helpfull aid, to show you the way out of the forest, Or he may be that of what your mind would loathe to picture, a force in himself.

Roused to anger he loses all forms of control and takes to ripping, sundering, mauling with every means at his desposal, at odd times, he may seem to dissappear into the depths of the forest, where the growling and roaring of a large creature would seem to suddenly erupt in such a violent manner, it may cause one's heart to skip a few beats.

His ability to speak to animals and coordinate with their movements may perhaps hint to his heritage to those well versed with those dwelling in the vale though to one not so familiar. he seems just an impossibly large man of the north.

One attuned to nature, one attuned to the beasts of the vales, he stands vigilant to ensure that the way of life his race hold is maintained. the pelts and skins of what appear to be cut from several wargs are draped across his form, a gruesome testiment to his feral nature.