The Good Lady Holda,

One of, if not the most beloved and cherished Gods of Germania and The Alps. And as such, is known as nothing less than the Grandmother of all Germans! But she is not merely a haggard and twisted crone, though she is that too! No indeed, she can and often is, also the most beautiful and tender of lovers. Though she is often the harshest of teachers when required.
See? She truly loves her people, gentle when she can be, but most brutal when she needs to be. You will be the best version of yourself you could possibly be or she will... Well death is quite often preferable. No, this dear Grandmother does not care in the least what you Want to hear. She only cares what you NEED to hear; as any GRAND Mother should.

It was she who watched over her people, who taught them, who guided them in their wild, mountainous forest homes. She who walked with them the entirety of the way from shaggy haired Wildmen, to their now 'civilized' selves. It is she who truly loves them and truly knows the wild beating heart which still pounds its unrelenting staccato rhythm from deep within their heaving breasts! Civilized?... What does this even mean to a God so wild as Holda herself?
She is The Wild Huntress! She who rides across the stormy skies accompanied by her hosts of Hollen and the souls of infants! It is she who brings both life and death in the wake of her passing! It is she who refuses to allow her people to succumb to such weakness, such platitudes and excuses as provided by 'Civility'. This same 'civility' which leads her people to contain their naturally glorious and wild manes into buns so tight that the blood might well be cut off from their brains, or the men to sheer their faces leaving naught but a grotesquely oversized and overly manicured mustache.

...Why, it simply isn't within her nature to care about this 'Civility'.

There may be times; centuries even, where she might not notice her people straying from that which is true within their hearts. After all she has many responsibilities aside from holding the hands of her people. This is in conjunction with it being well known that time itself within the realm of the Gods does not run necessarily in accordance with the realm of man.

It's when one isn't expecting it however when Frau Holda is most likely to show herself! She might come as the Matron who introduces two lovers, or reveals a hidden affection between a man and woman, who though in proximity to each other refuses to relent 'proper modesty' despite their admiration for each other. These unions guided and overseen by Lady Holda most frequently result in lasting marriages or occasionally the wild love affairs of the young. But ultimately it is up to the mortals themselves to see it through.

Or she might come as the humble street vendor bringing pancakes to the famished, the hardworking man or even the wild children as they play.
She might reveal herself as the haggard crone with a mouth full of gaping and broken teeth who in her aggravation tells the young women to stop moping, for one day if they live long enough, they will certainly look as haggard as herself.
As Grandmother she inspires crippled boys to stand up, making of themselves something inspiring despite the use of their legs or not!

Whether as Grandmother, Matron or youthful beauty she is never above poking her people in the back with her cane 'painfully if need be', prodding them to realize their true potential. To be more!
Or until they are removed from the equation if need be to the betterment of those who would otherwise be held back by their presence, that is should they prove themselves to be but an anchor around the neck of others.

Her most favored visage however 'at least by her many followers' is that of a wild woman! A forest 'witch' whose long uncombed mane full of brambles and branches, grass and leaves is thatched by wild mice and birds. Whose knowing eyes cut through the flesh of a man straight to his soul. Whose bulbous nose and crooked teeth grins madly from her wild and manic face. This 'Witch' who knows, ...Knows the secrets from which any sane man might shrink in fright! She who shrieks in the night running down her prey to bring them down with rending claw whether he be man or beast! She who bathes in the moonlit rivers and streams. Who gathers flowers and trinkets and wild beasts alike to her side. It is this truer... Wilder, self who might lift a man up to unimaginable heights! Or dash him upon the rocks far below. The maker of Heroes and the killer of Kings.

Though at other times she may present herself as a beautiful maiden with golden curls of sunlight sitting upon a moss blanket atop ancient standing stones, seemingly innocent and soft. Her song, that of the morning sparrow, delicate and longing, full of despair and joy. A song which both lifts the soul yet breaks the heart with yearning. She will offer temptation or reward to a man in equal parts, but offers both advice and opposition to women.
As the Maiden she lifts one up to the highest of heights or crushes them into the depths of despair, which of these is up to those who interact with her. She does naught but proffer the choices to be made. The choosers choice alone leading to inspiration or to crushing defeat.

Most often however, Dear Holda is simply the Grandmother we need; really, that we all need in our lives. She is both the greatest of our allies and the harshest of our judges. Grandmother Goodfellow is just as quick to praise. ...As she is to punish. But the impudent, the disloyal and dishonest, the lazy and the foolish will find nothing but her disdain, for them there is nothing but her anger. HOW DARE THEY! Don't they know their blood is HER blood?! How dare they mar their family so! For those without hope of redemption she brings castles down upon their heads and boiling tar upon their skin, and only if they are truly lucky will they pass from the mortal realm swiftly. If not? ...Well that's not her problem.

Yet do not focus overly much upon her harshness fore if one is noble and brave, cunning and strong, well that person will find she is also the tenderest of lovers, or the truest of friends.
To men, they find her healing warm touch, loving them completely in her dear Venusberg.
To women, they find her both true friend and ally against those who would seek to undermine them.

But no matter, always, to those who are worthy, they may find her in her meadows and mills, her ponds and streams, her mountains and hills. Those of the Germanic tribes whether they be of the lowest swamplands or the highest peaks, she pairs if they but ask. She brings them opportunity for joy when they are full of sorrow, and she encourages them in their strengths.

And when a true loving match is made... It is she who sends them the greatest gift of all... Children.