Mighty Ukko

Before he was a Skinwalker, Ukko was an Orc of note among his own remote tribe in the lush but dangerous Lost Isles, far beyond Kaerok’s gentle coastal shores. A prodigious consumer of shamanic wisdom and hearty meals alike, Ukko’s appetite for all forms of power and knowledge led to a misadventure in the deepest reaches of his home island’s dense and mountainous jungle. Coming upon a lost temple, Ukko was attacked by a strange, ancient boar-beast of fearsome power, which seemed, though half-mad, to be bent on guarding the place’s inscrutable secrets. Badly wounded but victorious, Ukko contracted the Skinwalker curse from his wounds and the mingling of his and the creature’s spilled blood. He lost consciousness and his flesh reformed into a new, boar-like state. As he returned to rationality, he endured a series of painful re-awakenings, each followed by the same terrible realization. Whenever he caught a glimpse of his transformation in a puddle or polished bit of stone, his conscious mind was sent fleeing into an atavistic state of rage and panic. The beast within would eventually subside, leaving Ukko to discover the aftermath of yet another frightful rampage he did not remember. This cycle could have broken his mind. Instead, he remembered the lessons of self-mastery and moderation that his mentors in the shamanic arts had always taught him. He had never seen the true value of their advice, until he had to draw upon it in this crisis. Putting them into practice, he finally stopped his unconscious rages, and set his eyes upon the ruins and the jungle with sound and clear mind again at last. The now boar-like Ukko still yearned to satisfy his curiosity, and discover the truth of the temple ruin that seemed more ancient than any structure he had ever seen or touched. So he spent some time in the ruins, coming to terms with the changes to his mind and body and studying what little he could of the glyphs and signs within the temple. He could not find any information about his curse, the boar guardian, or the temple’s original builders. But he gleaned a few precious secrets of magic from that primeval place, enough to elevate his refined but limited spell-craft. Powers of life and death, the flow and storage of that power, and the totemic works required – the things that Ukko craved were finally his, at least to some extent. He was still left with the sting of curiosity unsated, and it remained when he broke his self-imposed exile from within the temple. But Ukko could not face the idea of returning to the village of his upbringing. He could not risk approaching his close-knit community in this strange new form, which he knew required constant vigilance to control. So, rather than return, he did something his people always warned against – hail one of the merchant vessels of Arnoc that occasionally did business in the Lost Isles. Among the seasoned crew who had sailed far and seen much, this strange native Skinwalker was unusual to be sure, but not so bizarre as to preclude accommodation, especially when Ukko’s brews and chants healed one of their sick. He sampled their rations and found them bland, but the delicacies from the mainland proffered to him were delicious. There was knowledge there too, among the so-called civilized folk, and thought perhaps somewhere on the continent of Anhelt, he could find out more about the curse that turned him. So from bustling Arnoc, past the ruins of Narbuk, and through the treacherous Durham Forest he wandered north, sharing tales and insights freely. He expected the same in return, doing favors for monks and peddlers in exchange for meals and knowledge, and sometimes performing purifying rituals. In time, Ukko’s name and reputation came to precede him, and he found fame to his liking. It seemed to only offer him more and more opportunities to learn. When asked about his shamanic formulae, his secrets and insights, he would simply refer to ‘Ukko’s blessing,’ ‘Ukko’s wrath,’ and so forth. After all, his mentors had taught him much, but with all that he had learned and endured, Ukko had made his magic truly his own. He kept his public persona close to the model of an overconfident, naïve, small-minded islander, which served to mask his true intellect and ambitions. And so tales of the ‘Mighty Ukko’, all the more easy to spread for their simplicity, began to proliferate and give growing weight to his name. But he has not deviated from his original purpose. Having learned much of Skinwalkers in his travels but nothing of the curse’s cure, he now approaches the storied lands of Aravia, home of the High Elves. How their sensibilities and his will clash remains to be seen.