Name: Varnadir
Age: 132
Sex: Male
Race: Bsomer
Appearance:
Height: 6'0"
Eye Color: Fiery Topaz
Birthsign: The Steed
Latent Blood: Lycanthropy(Werewolf strain)- His Werewolf form is tall, and long, well built, but trimmed, both allowing great strength, endurance, and agility. His fur is a bit longer then normal, not shaggy, but still thick, much like an Ice wolf. His fur is a Mahogany color(deep, dark brown.) with lighter accents around his chest and down.
Weapons: A bearded Axe
A Bonemold Shortsword. The shortsword is crafted from Mammoth bone, and uses different resins then that of Morrowind's cultural Bonemold, so instead of coming out a golden color, it comes out a tainted blue color, like a bone slightly shaded by indigo dye. This short sword is styled like a Messer, a 15th century blade focused around control, and defensive forms, which is why he wields it in his off-hand in a reverse grip, to create an effective, counter balance. The Axe is steel, but has an edge finer then dwemer.
Armor: Valenwood Hunter's Guild Armor
Bio: A Bosmeri woman stood within her doorway, the glistening snow about her feet, her light skin vibrant as a smile stretched from ear to ear, and her nord husband, with his tall stature and broad shoulders, stood out with a deer over his shoulders and his bow at his feet. The pair met eyes and smiled at each other as she began to run her hand down over her stomach, rubbing the enlarged form, where their son sat, Varnadir.
Varnadir was born in Frostfall, in Cyrodil, a few miles north of Bruma. There he was raised by his parents to hunt, fish, and survive, but his childhood had it's complications for years the simple quarrel between his parents about the Green Pact and their son, caused tension among the couple and it nearly split them apart. Though they pulled through and decided best to leave up to him when he came of age, and that is what happen for the next fifteen years of his life until his eighteenth year of birth, he simply worked, hunted, and learned. He was approached that morning after returning from a hunt about his view on the Green Pact. Both mother and father gave their views of the Pact, and left it up to him as to whether he wanted to follow it or not. He took some time to make his decision, and even left for the woods to think about the ideal of following the Green Pact. Upon his return he revealed accepting to follow the Green Pact under Bosmer religion and his mother fell ecstatic upon his shoulder with a large hug. Though his father smiled and nodded, showing of his acceptance, he was truly disheartened.
Varnadir's life was different from that point on, he never seemed the same. He was of a fiercer disposition towards his enemies and followed the Green Pact diligently, but he also became closer to nature. He often meditated into the woods for hours at a time listening to the wild and hearing it's call. He would smell the scents and watch the sights taking in the primal essence of the land around him, this is where he met Clementine. He was meditating one day atop a large rock spire and Clementine, the beast she was before, prowled around him in the distance, closing in slowly while watching for movements and being wary of him. He although had heard her coming when she was a fair distance away. His meditation had led him to recognize the sounds of the beasts in the wild, and Clementine's was a common one in Cyrodil. Clementine drew closer and then, just before her attack, Varnadir began to speak using his Beast Tongue and coerced her into not attack, but into meditating with him. The pair sat and listened for the rest of the day as they got lost in the heart of the wild.
The next few months past with Varnadir occasionally finding Clementine at his meditation spot awaiting his arrival. This action brought the pair closer and Varnadir gave Clementine her name and the pair became inseparable. They hunted together, fought together, and even meditated together. The pair faced every foe together as well as every non-combat obstacle. They were headstrong and ready for anything. Though they weren't expecting to be approached by Varnadir's Grandmother one day, who trekked from Valenwood to send for him, and asked to come to Valenwood in search for a name, a certain Silver Sorrows.
Varnadir accepted this task although it seemed odd at first. He was given no information, just a name and a smile. Several months passed as he searched about Valenwood, asking around in each major settlement about this name and finding no results. He had heard of a few hunters speak of the name, but they were dead ends as well. He went out one day to hunt and hopefully gather enough food to hold himself over for a few days. He found himself following a game trail that soon held more tracks then just a Valenwood Elk. It had been trampled by a series of other boot and shoe prints of various sizes and gender. He followed them for several miles until he came upon an increasingly apparent trail of blood that led him to a ravenous sight of elk mutilation. He stood there a moment surveying the scene and looking for evidence of the killer. Large prints of unusual style were apparent all around the scene in a way that showed almost constant movement around the body and restless limbs. The evidence gave proof of viscous beings, but what exactly had done this didn't quite click just yet for Varnadir. A moment later, as he looked for another set of elk tracks, a group of people seemingly appeared form nowhere. Three came from the trees, two Bosmer female and an Imperial Male, and another four came from the thickets, two bosmer males and a pair of Nord females. They closed in around Varnadir and he kept his axe and blade sheathed while smiling and raising his chin. He greeted them and they replied with their own. They began to converse with short responses and questions, Varnadir's main concern was his health and whether they were going to attack him. They proved that they weren't and their conversation led into a description of their company and what they were doing. They were the Silver Sorrows and were a guild of hunters in Valenwood. When Varnadir gained their name and discovered that these were the people he was searching for, he revealed to them his reason for being in Valenwood and who sent him, which came with a delightful set of laughter and smiles from the Guild mates around him. They took him back to their home, a large estate built hidden in the deepest and thickest reached of the forest made of imported wood.
They began to explain themselves to Varnadir and instructed him as to why he had come searching for them. His grandmother, and mother, were both Silver Sorrows and they intended to keep their family in the name. Varnadir was to become a Silver Sorrow and live with them for most of his life. For the next few centuries he learned and served the Silver Sorrows. He came to eventually be one of the best and soon after he was appointed the new Beastmaster. He trained all manner of beasts for the Huntsmen of the Silver Sorrows and even became one himself as these hunters offered him the choice to become a lycan. This Guild of Hunters, were created by the Bosmeri ideal of Hunters, but a few felt a closer connection through their lycanthropy, and while not all of them were lycans, nor was it mandatory, they were happily accepting of Lycans. Varnadir was offered the choice of several lycans, but do to his compassion for Clementine he chose the Werewolf as his lycan spirit. Years past as they all hunted and built on their estate, furthering their progress as a guild and even building their numbers as more and more were inducted under the name, Silver Sorrows.
Decades past in the Valenwood Forest and life was grand, it was not the easiest life, but it was what he wanted. It gave him a goal, a purpose, something to live for, but it was one day taken from him when the Silver Hand attacked. The Lycan hunting group of the Silver Hand had heard over-exaggerated tales of a Guild of Lycan in Valenwood, when truly only a quarter of the Guild were Lycans. This didn't stop the Silver Hand though as they swarmed outside the Estate, shoulder to shoulder between the thick and heavy forest. The Guild gathered outside their numbers dwarfed by that of the SIlver Hand, but their spirit was much grander. A line was formed outside the main building of the estate that wrapped around it, while archers lined the balconies and roof. The Guildmates were ready for anything, and they watched as a wave of Silver Hand flooded forward. The Guild unleashed a stalwart fury as there heaviest hitters entered the early fray while the archer's took on other archer's in a long distance bout before the Silver Hand Archers began to take down the melee troops. It was a massacre as well as a stupid move, arrows struck Guild member and Silver Hand alike when the arrows began to fly and with the chaos of the battle the true Lycanthrope members of the Guild shifted and launched a ravenous slaughter against the Silver Hand. They suffered many losses that day, but they put blade to claw and fought off the only major threat they had... or so they thought. Several years later an army returned, Silver Hand branches from three provinces made a wave through Valenwood eradicating every known Lycan they could find until they reached the Guild, they burnt it to the ground and slaughtered anyone who tried to escape the event, all except for a handful of the members were killed and the few remaining were lucky enough to get away from the slaughter with their lives. Varnadiir never looked back...
He now roams Skyrim, hunting, killing, and surviving off the land and the raiders he comes across while roaming.
