Seen here is Jikkal ripping the head off of a troll general in his second round of ventures on Trollheim.

Chieftain Jikkal the Farstrider is a male human of Fremmenik origins. He is currently 40 years of age. Jikkal was born in the woods east of the Fremennik Province, southwest of the mountain camp in a smatt mud-plank hut. His father was a Fremennik and his mother, Asgarnian.


He stoutly stands to a towering 6'3". His upright posture hints towards and extreme sense of self confidence. A sincere, yet strong and confident expression usually covers his rough mug. Mahogany-brown hair, facial hair, and eyes. A thin strip of facial hair flows from his side burns along his jawline. His attire usually consists of of clothing from his homeland. However, depending on the situation, it can vary from the thickest of animal hides to the sturdiest of plate armor. At one point in time, he would commonly be seen wearing his mother's amulet. (It's origin is currently uknown, but to a keen seer, or well tuned mage, it would emit an other worldly mystical aura.)

Character Personality

Jikkal addresses people in a very serious manor, his past has forced him to be crude and cold. When not doing something for his own gain, he drink's. A lot, and has no issue's handling himself once inebriated. Although dark and mysterious, he has his week spots. None that would affect him in combat although. He has a keen eye for the ladies, and rarely hides his emotions.


  1. His father's Fremennik broadsword.
  2. A bladed whip he aquired to aid him in taming the wildest of beasts.
  3. A variety of one-handed spears.
  4. His handy dandy skinning knife, stained with the blood from skinning the hide of many a beast.
  5. A powerful recurve bow, a trophy from his ventures on Waterbirth Island where he completed a set of tasks for the Trials.
  6. A quiver loaded with poisoned arrows, venom aquired from Jungle Spiders.
  7. His father's massive axe, aquired in his search for barried treasures within the catacombs of the Barrow's Brothers.
  8. Various sets of armor, with slight modifications, fitting to the style of combat he so chooses for certain situations . A sturdy, none-restrictive set of Bandosian armor, with certain properties that offer advantages in hand to hand combat. Along with blunt, & massive two-handed weapons. The gauntlets he wears are equipped with a set of spring loaded claws that he can utilize at almost any time.Various animal hides, differing from the creatures of Waterbirth Island, and the many species of animals/beast that litter the lands.


Year 131, Wintumber, 5th Age - Age: N/A

Jikal's father is exiled to the wilderness outside the province by majority vote of the village council due to an affair with Jikal's mother, an outerlander who hails from Misthalin.

Year 132, 5th Age - Age: 0.9

Nine months after exile, his father and mother give birth to an extremely healthy baby, whom of which his mother dubs; Caeruleus.- Four months after his birth, Jikal's mother dies of a terrible sickness she seccumbs to during one of the coldest, and harshest winters of the Fifth Age.

Year 137, 5th Age - Age: 5

Five years after his birth, on his birthday, his father bestows upon him a maginificant jagged skinning knife, thus deciding that he is of age to learn the ways of the huntsman.

Year 139, 5th Age - Age: 7

Jikal is fairly large for his age, and so his father decides a test is in order. He explains to his son, that winter is nearing, and that it is time for him to learn the ways of a successful huntsman, and how to provide for himself. He is instructed to strip himself of everything but his trousers, and he is allowed only one possession, his hunting knife. The terms to his return were these: Spend one month outi n the wilderness alone, or don't return at all. It is hard for the young boy to accept, so his father is forced to knock his son unconcious, and dump him in the forest south-west of the Province.
After awakening, the boy spends the first few hours wallowing in a pool of his own tears. Lurking within the shadows, his father watches intently. He would never allow his young child to succumb to a lonely, pittiful death, so he watches his boy, although he is ready to interfere at a moments notice, he restrains himself with the upmost confidence in his only remaining kin.
The first few weeks are rough on the boy. The only prey he can locate always seems to avoid his sleep and protein deprived clutches without his other equipment. So he is forced to live off the berries and herbs that are edible located on the outer-rim of the province. Many times his father finds his boy looking upon the village, admiring the many fur and food stalls behind a stream of drool and shivers. However, each time he does this, he turns a cold shoulder to the people who shunned his family several years ago with a newly-found wave of confidence. His father sees this, and realizes that his seed may have created one of the most strong willed mortal beings that Gielinor has ever seen.
The last few days of his father's test near, and the roughened, weather-hewn boy refuses to give up. He at last, in an act of desperation, decides to nut up in a swift flurry of courage. He fastens himself a sturdy spear out of a decent yew branch and bits of bark. He decides to go balls to the wall in an all out situation. His prey is that of which he has been avoiding meticulously for the last month, a gray-back wolf that litter the entire area. Now, it doesn't take a genius to understand that the odds are not in a weakened seven year-old's favor when it comes to taking down a fully matured gray-back. In turn, he prepares himself suitably; through his father's teachings over the last two years. Thus so, he wraps his callus and blistered feet in broad layers of Yew leaves strung together with thin strips of peeled bark. He would need to be silent if he was to successfully sneak up on this species of canine. Bathing himself in rubbery sap from local evergreens, he masks his scent after doing away with his worn trousers. All he need left to do is roll around on the ground to properly camoflage himself.
Through these steps, he believes he is ready for his impending task. As there isn't much ground cover in the wilderness which he can conceal himself in, he takes refuge within a healthy oak. In his current state, he is in no position to take a wolf head on, so he waits within the safety of the tree. Night falls, and the boy cannot help but doze off.
That night, he falls victim to a terrible nightmare. A gut wrenching scene fills his mind after perilous hours of dashing through the woods. It is that of which he finds his father's mangled corpse soaking in a pool of his own blood and flesh. Just then, a bone-chilling growl errupts behind him. The last thing he see's before abruptly awakening is a pair of malcious yellow eyes behind a wall of razor-sharp teeth. The scene is traumatic enough to shake him from his slumber, tossing him out of the tree.
After recovering from his fall, he looks around for any traces of his pray. To his avail, there are none. He tosses aside his make-shift spear, and pounds the ground in a flurry of rage and tears. Always one step behind him, his father watches in discontent. He begins to think that he was to quick to judge his son. His father then shakes his head in dissapproval. As if the land it self were looking to offer him a chance in redemption, a wolf cries out in the distance of the night. Without thinking twice, the boy jolts up in one final sweeping feel of determination. He grabs his spear, and takes off into the woods.
A deep grin would coil along his father's face. The confidence he had in his son returns along with a side-dish of pride. As fast as the boy is swift, he is careful of his surroundings. He takes certain precautions to remain the silent deadly force he needs if he is to be successfull on his mission. Careful and steady will win this race.
After a while of carefull trekking through the forest, he comes accross his prize in a small clearing. To his advantage, the beast is disctracted with the corpse of a black unicorn that are also prominant in that area. He readies himself to strike on his unsuspecting prey, but stops short for he realizes something. The only reason that he found his potention prize in the first place was due soley to the fact that it wasn't a cry for help, nor a mating one. But the call for dinner, the alert to the rest of it's pack that it was time to grub.
His luck seems to face as quickly as it was brought upon him. One by one, the pack hurridly seeps from the tree line into the opening to join their comrade.
Once again, he finds himself drooling as he hungrily watches the pack go to town on the bloodied carcass. He simply refuses to give up, his stomach will not allow it. At this point, his father can almost feel the determination burning within his son. He readies himself to intervine, at a moments notice, and draws his bow along with two broad-tipped arrows. Before he can fully react, his son leaps from the forest with the swiftness of the Fremennik might that runs deep within his veins. He manages to catch a younger wolf off-guard, and plunges his spear deep into the wolf's side, diving towards it's heart. His father is awe-struck, and he flinches. The pack's attention jolt from their meal to their newly found attack as their comrade cries out in pain.
As soon as he rips out his spear from the wolf's side, he quickly realizes what a foolish mistake he has made. They eyed him up like the pack of hungry wolves they were. Fancy that. The pack encirlces him, leaving him no chance of escape, and his father fears he may be helpless to save his son. Just then, as if divine intervention from the all-father himself, a fully grown, quite pissed off, enormous, black bear erupts from the forest growling in a storm of rage. His father locks up, convinced his sap and dirt laden boy has met his demise. The pack of wolves diverts their attention once again to the more prominant threat. A conflict of epic preportion ensues in front of it's speechless audience, the boy and his concealed father.
The pack is no match for their larger, stronger opponent, even with their advantage of numbers. In a bloody brutal clash of gray and black fur, the bear is victorious suffering only minor flesh wounds. Slowly, the bear turns to gaze at the boy with it's big, beady, black eyes. The boy drops his spear, and locks up in fear. Due to positioning, the boy's father cannot get off a clean shot without endangering his son, so he waits as long as possible. The bear snorts, and slowly trots towards the boy. His father realizes that, if the bear wanted to make a meal out of his son, it would have done so. His father is convinced that surely it's an act of the Kendal watching out for his boy, and so he hesitates further. The boy feels as though his imminent doom is slowly nearing, and he drops to his knees. His savior stops milimeters short, bring them face to face. As the bear gazes deep into the boys eyes with its own pure black, pupil-free ones, the boy cannot help but sense an other-worldy precense amoung them. After a moment of intimate staring, the bears long tounge protrudes from below it's snout to lick a patch of sap on the boy's face.
Both the boy and his father are dumb-struck by the scene presented before them. The bear snorts one finaly time, blowing a puff of warm breath into his face. That of which is most unpleasant. The bear turns, and dissappears into the forest from whence it came. A wave of relief flows over the boy, and he cannot help but fornicate. His father snorts in bemusement as he steps from the shadows to make his presence known. The boy jolts up in embarrassment and confusion. His father puts away his bow as he examines the bloody scene around them. He then explains his presence there, but his son can not comprehend why he refused to intervine when his death could have occurred at a moments notice.
The boy's father exlpains the tale of the Kendal to him, and how it's presence was the only logical explanation as to why he wasn't ripped to shreds. The boy's young and naive mind accepts the concept, and from that point on his life, he cannot help but truly believe the Kendal watches over him, and guides him to the right path on his journey of life.

Year 148, 5th Age - Age: 14

No record remains of this particular point in his life so you can asume foolish and embarassing mastakes were made. Foolish enough that they were stricken from his record. In time he learned from these mistakes.

Year 149, 5th Age - Age: 15

Jikal's father decides that his training is nearing an end, and he feels it is neccessary that he learns the concept of the "Circle of Life". (Cause and Effect.) He believes that the way of the Huntsman is the only way of life that can truly grasp this aspect. The circle of life is such explained to him as this: Utilize everything, and waste nothing. Everything that you do has a greater purpose that of which was your original reasoning for doing so. Whether or not you are aware of it, it is there embedded in the lands that we populate. He then tells his son the tale of the Larupia and it's Cub.
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