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Description

NAME: Varro
  NICKNAME: It's two syllables
AGE: Adult
GENDER: Yeah (AFAB - Any Pronouns)
SEXUALITY: Men

HEIGHT, WEIGHT: 84cm, 40kg
BUILD: Stocky, but losing her edge. Walks with a limp.

MOONPHASE: Elder - The Seeker
ABILITIES: N/A

TERRITORY: Kol
  RANKING: Varen
TRADE: None

ALIGNMENT: True Neutral

PERSONALITY:
Stoic and proud, Varro's youthful boldness has faded in the weeks since their maiming, but they'd kill before allowing anyone to see them as weak for it. They'd have no use for pity even if there was any to be found amongst the kol. They know what they are and they know what they intend to become. Pain isn't an obstacle to them, it's merely a conduit.

A hard wolf to befriend, they're known to flip between selfless and self-serving depending on the cause; though they'd never let their dedication to Kol be called into question. With little patience for fools or cowards, they're certainly not the friendliest wolf on the isle, though it's rare to drive them to outright aggression. They see themselves as more a follower than a leader, with a strong preference for executing plans rather than hatching them.

While only casually spiritual in her youth, Varro's faith in the islands power has grown dramatically during her time in the kol, and even moreso since losing most of the use in her hindleg. Most notable is her newfound phobia of owls. Despite what her controlled demeanor would imply, Varro does have a weakness for vice, particularly hypericum when it comes into bloom.

HISTORY:

If you asked Varro, they'd tell you their life didn't begin until they'd tasted manflesh.

Her life was an uneventful slog before the Kol. But Malaysia made things interesting. Promises of untold power had lured the young wolf in like a moth to a flame. Let the Tündes languish and rot in the south with their precious alpha. She could be a God, or at least as close to one as one would manage. She quickly made herself useful as a scout, weaving her way through the isle, watching the coward packs meander through their aimless lives. She never coveted any higher rank or command; being part of something bigger than herself was more than enough.

It only took one mistake to ruin it.

Her scouting runs had brought her to the edge of Stonehaven's territory. Closer than was wise, but Riika and Lanvals success in the mountains had made her enboldened the kolwolf. She never would have crossed the border though, if not for the mother brown bear that set its sights on her. It chased her far into Northshield Pass before finally losing her amongst the rocks.

Hidden amongst the rocky outcroppings, she breathed a sigh of relief, before she saw the owls circling overhead. Harbingers of death.

Their masters (Kodiak & Sigrid ) descended upon her like moths to a flame. She tried to run, but the Haveners had no mercy left for kol after their recent betrayal. She only narrowly escaped with her life, her hindleg savaged in the fray. It was a wonder she even made it back to the Mirrorwood before bleeding out. Whatever happened next was a blur. She dimly remembered Morgacht 's panicked voice as he found her, and Kviir 's magic knitting the worst of her wounds shut. Yet, despite the ocuuli's best efforts, when Varro was conscious enough to walk again, they found their leg was in a far worse state than they'd realized. They could barely walk more than a few steps without pain, and running was completely out of the question. And even worse, Malaysia was far from impressed with their endeavors.

For their recklessness, and for inciting their enemy, Varro was stripped of their rank back to a varen; confined to Kol's territory. The now lame-wolf barely even tried to defend herself, and resigned to her fate.

FAMILY:
  PARENTS: NPC x NPC

CONTACT PREFERENCE: dA Notes / Discord / morse code
RANDOM EVENTS: Opt In

Description

NAME: Varro
  NICKNAME: It's two syllables
AGE: Adult
GENDER: Yeah (AFAB - Any Pronouns)
SEXUALITY: Men

HEIGHT, WEIGHT: 84cm, 40kg
BUILD: Stocky, but losing her edge. Walks with a limp.

MOONPHASE: Elder - The Seeker
ABILITIES: N/A

TERRITORY: Kol
  RANKING: Varen
TRADE: None

ALIGNMENT: True Neutral

PERSONALITY:
Stoic and proud, Varro's youthful boldness has faded in the weeks since their maiming, but they'd kill before allowing anyone to see them as weak for it. They'd have no use for pity even if there was any to be found amongst the kol. They know what they are and they know what they intend to become. Pain isn't an obstacle to them, it's merely a conduit.

A hard wolf to befriend, they're known to flip between selfless and self-serving depending on the cause; though they'd never let their dedication to Kol be called into question. With little patience for fools or cowards, they're certainly not the friendliest wolf on the isle, though it's rare to drive them to outright aggression. They see themselves as more a follower than a leader, with a strong preference for executing plans rather than hatching them.

While only casually spiritual in her youth, Varro's faith in the islands power has grown dramatically during her time in the kol, and even moreso since losing most of the use in her hindleg. Most notable is her newfound phobia of owls. Despite what her controlled demeanor would imply, Varro does have a weakness for vice, particularly hypericum when it comes into bloom.

HISTORY:

If you asked Varro, they'd tell you their life didn't begin until they'd tasted manflesh.

Her life was an uneventful slog before the Kol. But Malaysia made things interesting. Promises of untold power had lured the young wolf in like a moth to a flame. Let the Tündes languish and rot in the south with their precious alpha. She could be a God, or at least as close to one as one would manage. She quickly made herself useful as a scout, weaving her way through the isle, watching the coward packs meander through their aimless lives. She never coveted any higher rank or command; being part of something bigger than herself was more than enough.

It only took one mistake to ruin it.

Her scouting runs had brought her to the edge of Stonehaven's territory. Closer than was wise, but Riika and Lanvals success in the mountains had made her enboldened the kolwolf. She never would have crossed the border though, if not for the mother brown bear that set its sights on her. It chased her far into Northshield Pass before finally losing her amongst the rocks.

Hidden amongst the rocky outcroppings, she breathed a sigh of relief, before she saw the owls circling overhead. Harbingers of death.

Their masters (Kodiak & Sigrid ) descended upon her like moths to a flame. She tried to run, but the Haveners had no mercy left for kol after their recent betrayal. She only narrowly escaped with her life, her hindleg savaged in the fray. It was a wonder she even made it back to the Mirrorwood before bleeding out. Whatever happened next was a blur. She dimly remembered Morgacht 's panicked voice as he found her, and Kviir 's magic knitting the worst of her wounds shut. Yet, despite the ocuuli's best efforts, when Varro was conscious enough to walk again, they found their leg was in a far worse state than they'd realized. They could barely walk more than a few steps without pain, and running was completely out of the question. And even worse, Malaysia was far from impressed with their endeavors.

For their recklessness, and for inciting their enemy, Varro was stripped of their rank back to a varen; confined to Kol's territory. The now lame-wolf barely even tried to defend herself, and resigned to her fate.

FAMILY:
  PARENTS: NPC x NPC

CONTACT PREFERENCE: dA Notes / Discord / morse code
RANDOM EVENTS: Opt In