| Nicknames: | Scions of Urfarah (within the Tribe) Cold Bastards (among the Forsaken, informal/derogatory) Howlers (used by Spirits and the Pure) |
| First Tongue: | Iminir |
| First Born: | Skolis-Ur |
| Sacred Hunt Focus: | Claimed |
| Renown: | Honor |
| Gifts: | Evasion, Dominance, Weather |
Tribal Oath: |
Nu Si Gid Namtar. |
You are the oncoming storm. Ice is in your veins and iron is in your bones. You are the unstoppable killer, the death that walks behind. Where lesser predators would break from the hunt, collapsing from exhaustion and pain, you will continue. The winter is patient, unending, and given time it seeps in everywhere. Like your mother, you endure — though your flesh is torn away, you survive, regenerate, and return as strong as ever. Like your father, you will kill anything that gets in your way. But the hunt, the hunt is special. Only the most brutal prey is worthy of Siskur-Dah. And what prey is more brutal than the unholy amalgam of flesh and spirit?