Ranged Ranger of some Renown, KrynnPIRG supporter


Raised on the milk of werewolves, the boy was well versed in the arts of surviving in the bush ever since his adopted family found him naked and alone among the moonlit exurbs of the desert metropolis. Indeed, the moon has ever since been the friend and guardian of this young ranger, revealing the truer nature of things in its pallid hues.

Taught the languages of beasts and men, he was well tutored in subtle exchanges of compromise necessary to maintain a balance between the living things of the city streets and the things of the forest. Upon his tenth birthday, he was clothed in a stolen uniform and accompanied by his Uncle Travidio, a were-elk and Professor of Ecology at Fireside University, to learn the arts of mankind by posing as a foundling schoolboy.

Clove revisits the primordial forests of his childhood every third quarter of the waning summer moon, where he writes folk spirituals in the branches of a mallorn tree by the light of fireflies. A wordsmith he is not (been known to rhyme “hoof” with “hufflepuff”), but he makes up for his limited lexicon with the sheer exuberance of his musical style (can play his bowstring like a funky bass guitar). Think the lead singer of Lynyrd Skynyrd in costume as William Tell covering to the tune of Greensleeves.


The Lower Reaches sloan2