V A R R I C
"The Grim, The Scorched Drake, Wildfire of the North."
THE BODY
"The Grim, The Scorched Drake, Wildfire of the North."
THE BODY
AGE: 41
RACE: Tyrgannan Human
GENDER: Male
PRONOUNS: He / Him
SEXUALITY: Heterosexual
HEIGHT: 6'4
WEIGHT: 16 Stone
BUILD: A broad, stocky frame with varied tones of muscle and fat. Befitting a Northerner, countless decades of labour and combat was apparent in a thickset silhouette with a pained posture. And yet, it was evident the man would not shy away from the scent of food.
HAIR: Untied, shoulder-length hair of ombré copper and auburn, accompanied by streaks of striking silver. Tied, it was unkempt; grime and soot apparent. The orange-gray beard thick and yet trimmed short - strays and shadows betraying an otherwise spruced appearance.
EYES: A pale hazel-brown reside behind oval-shaped eyes, concealed partially by draping eyelids.
NOTABLE FEATURES: Two marred antlers sprout from the man’s head in a twisted appearance. The left, having been fractured at its midpoint, marked by splintered offshoots. The right, featured in full with etched cavities demonstrating a battleworn state. Strung, varied ornamental chimes and charms, crafted from wood or bone.
OUTFIT: A primitive and disheveled set of robes. Between shades of browns and greens, viriscent fabrics fold near endlessly over subtly-patterned cloth. It was by a wrapped, twisting band at the waist would the garbs be held tight. Footwear, a modest set of hardwood sandals held by frayed twine. Jewellery, barren save for intricately carved bone charms and statuettes.
THE MIND
ALIGNMENT: Chaotic Good — Varric prioritises the wellbeing of Athon, and its by-product: the denizens of the realm. He pursues and eliminates the Morruadh, along with any other he deems unnatural or a threat to both Athon and her people. This is by any means necessary, and believes all who stand in the way are just as deserving of this retribution.
PERSONALITY:
- Of Faith | Naturally spiritual and devoted to the Mother of the world, he is often perceived with unwavering zealotry. This oftentimes closed-mind has forced a deep disdain for the unnatural - the Morruadh, the magi, necromancy, and all things even believed to be such.
- Of Tradition | With roots embedded into the cultures of the North, practitioners of mysticism and sprirituality he will often see as prophets and heralds; one deeming his utmost respect and awe. This comes with it a deep reverence of habit and culture. Fascinated often by how others have come to be, and the traditions or culture that define them.
- Of Fire | Shaped by his experiences, he is tormented and afflicted by the past. Unbridled rage dwells within, yet sometimes kept unchecked in moments of greater emotion. This has lead to irrational confrontations or unwanted ire.
GOALS:
- Upholding the responsibilities of the All-Mother’s demands; using his blessings to bestow balance upon the world.
- Building up the forces of the Sacred Song to combat the rising Naalka threats.
FEARS:
- Loss of control. Through expressing one’s own mind, or having one’s thoughts probed excessively by others. This fear puts Varric on edge, borderline hostile, to those seeking to discover his innermost thoughts or control him.
- Drowning. The sea and deep waters, the thought of drowning. Opting most often to fly rather than be on a boat or swim, he is fearful of being stuck in the ocean and greater bodies of water.
- Guilt. The fear of not being enough and the failure to fulfil his duties, thereby yielding disastrous consequences. Haunted by his past, a sense of guilt torments him greatly, and drives action and decision to minimise consequences for others - at risk of himself.
PREFERENCES:
- LIKES:
- Cold, Brittle yet Homely: A familiar sensation toward a simpler life, embracing the cold as if it were an old friend.
- Flames, Burning and Scalding: Purity, and to be cast free from sin. Fire is seen as a reagent toward piousness and reprieve.
- Grog, Strong Ale: What a powerful drink may not cure, there is no cure for.
- Food, Moreish and Flavourful: From the many needs of a mortal body, food is at least one that can be wholly delighted and savoured.
- Wytchcraft, Mystical Feats: The fabled art of mysticism is one to be revered. To know beyond one’s own realm is a feat, to witness beyond one’s own realm is godhood.
- DISLIKES:
- Essence, the Violet Plague: The vile encroaching of the unnatural upon the world is one to be hated, despised. It must be removed.
- Necrosis and the Undeath: Be it a practitioner, or the risen dead, it is a state of being that defies Nature Herself.
- Politics, the Talk of Man: Pointless bickering and battle of half-wits. Some disputes are best left to the fields.
- Towns, Jungles of Stone: Overcrowded, obnoxious, repugnant. Towns, affixed by walls of towering cobble, serve nought but a reminder of captive livestock.
- Nobility and Honor: Uptight, snivelling rats raised in silken garb. Honor and status is a luxury only afforded to the naive.
THE SOUL
CULTURE: Faith of the Primalweald, Teachings of the Bán-brí Tribes.
OCCUPATION: Archdruid of the Sacred Song; labourer in stonemasonry and woodwork; warrior and martial educator.
RESIDENCY: Residing within the Grove of the Moon as its sole leadership; the helm of which is but a humble, quaint abode nestled beneath the Twin Elms. Traditionally nomadic, this home is often unused.
LANGUAGES:
- Daig’tengae: ‘Fire-tongue’, native language of the Bán-brí Tyrgannan tribes. Mother-tongue; natural fluency in reading, writing, and speech.
- Fael: Language of the Forests, commonly taught among aspirants of the All-Mother’s path. Learned fluency in reading, writing, and speech.
- Common: Language of the Athon’s Kingdoms, the most widespread tongue in the civilised world. Fractured fluency in speech only, can find certain words difficult. Unable to read or write.
REPUTATION: (UNIQUE - POSITIVE - NEGATIVE - MEMORY)
- RIVERYN (Unique): “Kira felysyn, kira cyar." An elfen maiden that had thawed the Varric's frozen heart. Though ever resolute in his duties, he has now a more vulnerable side.
- MASHA (Unique): “Skeesa’yn, kira sylar akh.” The closest he had felt to a blooded daughter; having taken the young aspirant at the behest of her older sister. This was a decision he had not come to regret.
- ROGATH (Positive): “Frokki’heim cahnlun.” A detestable, yet brotherly bond. Varric holds a great respect for his unblooded kin, and reverence for his status as Firesinger.
- BELL (Neutral): Skeptical, cautious. Varric has ignored aversions and offences by Bell, though remains reserved.
- LOHI’YN (Memory): Admirable, intimidating. One of few souls that saw past the man’s veil, and for this it frightened Varric. Yet, he had held a great respect for the Scrollspeaker. Now, a memory laden with grief and guilt.
THE STORY
Within the decrepit, hide-stitched tents of a Northern nomadic tribe, which crept on the outreaches of Athon’s known world, Varric had been born. Raised a warrior and hunter to his people, the boy outshone in his ferocity. From an early age, a crude hatchet would become the tool to him unlike any other. In time, as the boy aged, he had grown unquenched in purpose. And so, necessitating from war for his tribe, he would undertake the role of one juvenile, untamed berserker.
The realm of civilised Man had begun to intrude upon the boundaries of the tribes, scorching the alpines and tundras in a plague of settlements. At the behest of various elders, Varric’s tribe sent forth its own to pillage and raze these pre-Kingdoms. The embers of corpse and shrine alike lit the fires of madness within the boy - who swiftly became known as Varric the Grim. The seething warrior embraced the thrills of war and chaos, anticipating each fight to be his last. Though with each, he would pave roads of skulls; the matron of fate destined him beyond primitive savagery.
After his raiding party had scattered the fields of a young town in blood and bones, they had begun their trek back - gold coffers and silver plentiful. Having struck the perilous paths of the mistwoods, Varric ushered all to press on. It was but an infamed fairy tale of monsters, he had called it. Upon their delve deeper through the darkened thickets, the piercing howls of a warped herd of beasts emerged, tearing piece by piece at the group.
Wolves in charred paint and ornaments felled each of the warriors with a barbarity unparalleled. Until, it was but one soul left - Varric. A large two-handed axe had been held between whitened knuckles; coarse skin scraping at the splinters between his grip. Blood had painted the warrior, of both comrade and foe, but he would not relent. Each beast - each druid - that had sought his life would yield their own. One after another, the grounds of the grove had been massacred; unrecognisable beyond the littering of mangled corpses.
“Enough!” Would boom akin to thunder across the forests - a sound to which nought contested. It was at this very moment, the boy-warrior had wavered his composure. Turning, he would see only a magnificent silhouette - a towering shadow not of man nor beast. In doing so, he felt the sharp pain of a crushing blow to the back of his skull, rendering him unconscious.
The mercy of the All-Mother had averted its gaze that day. A mercy of death, a warrior’s one, was the craving of the boy. Instead, he had been tortured beyond recognition within the camps of the Faelir; a debt of blood that was owed in the names of their fallen. In the realm of beasts, this man-boy was viewed nothing more than a feral - a savage - a wild hound. One whose path left with it a trail of grief and devastation. Were it not the unbridled fury within, that the Mistwoods believed could be tamed, then Varric would become nothing more than feed. Redemption was offered: shed the wretched sins of old and pursue the Path anew under Her watchful gaze, or perish within the gaping maws of the earth. Seeking now a greater purpose, the Aspirant rejected death - then taking on the name of Varric Fenn.
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