My man, you picked the wrong day to walk in here starting shit.
Social Rank: 7
Concept: Lyceum-loving Truesworn Captain
Marital Status: widowed
Hair Color: brown
Eye Color: clear gray
Skintone: ink and tan
Description: Varosh is a tall man built strong despite his age, his physique one that allows him to keep performing at peak conditions long before his peers have grown soft and moved on from a life on the hunt. The Truesworn's thick mane of hair is a mess of curls that spills down his head, the same color of his graying beard. Although he does not look Setarcan, them has clearly adapted to the region well, always bearing a grinning disposition, exuding a good humor whenever he is surrounded by people. Bright, gray eyes make Varosh stand out even more than his height or power, his irises places one can get lost into.
The most striking feature of Varosh are his tattoos that mark him forever as an outsider in the Lyceum. A series of sharp, angular shapes represent the scales of a beast, and as they cover his torso and arms they add to the man's fearsome appearance.
Personality: Varosh is at his heart a crowd pleaser. He knows the name of his sailors in the Black Fleet, their problems and dreams, and he cares. The ostracized Truesworn is deeply faithful to those around him, his earnestness in seeing his vows through earning him the respect of many. He is often drinking, abusing his body's uncanny resistance to alcohol, and always has a hearty tale or joke to lighten the mood. He may speak truthfully if a comrade needs to hear some harsh advice, but above all, Varosh means well, and those around him are made better for his presence.
Alone, however, the former Truesworn is another person entirely. In silence he turns inwards, to the memory of the ones lost along the way, family and friends. Caught off-guard in his moments alone, he might take a while to get back to his more expansive, friendly mood, revealing a man that is deeply philosophical about the cycle of death and rebirth, honor and the mission one has on this Dream before they fade.
Background: Varosh the Younger. Varosh the Riverblooded. Varosh the Shadow. A man is not one, but many, through the course of their saga, and for no reward other than to meet one's end with dignity, a man must walk his path, however painful. Few exemplify this as well as the man known as Varosh Vowbreaker, a man without family and tribe who was once a Truesworn spearheader under Trogen himself.
Little is known by the Compact at large about Varosh. A hero to the Truesworn in his youth, he was ostracized by his tribe for breaking sacred covenant, the gods seeing fit to punish the warrior by taking his family in the biting cold of a harsh winter. Deemed unworthy by his brethren, Varosh would have left to face the Great Wastes to never return if not for Trogen. The visionary leader insisted Varosh was allowed to stay, and was seen frequently with the shell of a man. Even as he led his people away from their homeland, Trogen would not allow Varosh to stay behind.
To most Truesworn the Vowbreaker was a pitiful non-person, a drunkard without purpose that only a strange leader like Trogen would tolerate. Varosh himself did not understand his leader's mercy, and felt many times during the exodus that he should have have stayed behind to rest in the winter snow with his wife and children.
Alas, a man's journey only ends when it is over, and Varosh's was far from done. No one knows why Trogen sent the fierce warrior away upon finally reaching Esterhold. Instead of staying there with his leader, Varosh was sent to Setarco to be in the court of Duke Piero Pravus, and get to know the man who had embraced the Truesworn. The Setarcan ruler had a way with words. He was a well-read man, a thinking man, and he showed Trogen much of his lands, his people, and his dream for them. Varosh believed in the man, and felt purpose and value in what the man had been trying to build.
In the crystaline waters of the Lyceum everything was upside down for the man who learned how to kill with his bare hands before his fourteenth year. Some smiles meant love, while others meant eternal fury. The wine was delicious, when it was not poisoned. The fiercest of the land wore silken dresses with regal pride, and not their scars. Everything felt dangerous, and it woke a feeling of euphoria in the veteran. Slowly, but surely, Varosh learned there was much for him to see still, and experience, and even when Trogen was assassinated, as was the duke, the old warrior kept serving, true to his word.
The men who gave him second wind may not be alive anymore, but Varosh is, and he will see their vision through.