Post by Deleted on Jul 6, 2012 8:02:21 GMT -5
VEPHAR ARCHERON
NAME. Vephar Archeron.
NICKNAME(S). None.
AGE. Eight.
SPECIES. Wolf.
BREED. European.
GENDER. Male.
HEIGHT. 35 inches.
WEIGHT. 102 pounds.
COAT. Dusted to bright browns and creams.
EYE COLOUR. Dull but animated orange.
NOTABLE MARKINGS. Many scars, especially on his back-right leg.
PHYSICAL. Once a very handsome and strapping young lad, the wolf is older now and entering the last of his few remaining years. His coat ranges from blacks, browns, creams and whites as most European wolves' do, and his eyes are a generic golden-orange. In his old age, he has been told that he has more and more gray hairs every day but he never really takes the time to look at himself. Because of this, he can go days and even weeks before tending to his fur, so he often looks very dirty and unkempt.
His eyes can be interesting at times, even though to most they appear dull and clouded with cataracts. He is not, however, blind though his eyesight often fails him and plays tricks on him. He was never really aware when he began to notice spirits, when the disease started to change him; but for years he had been used to this and perhaps his sight into the spirit world is starting to dominate his sight of the real world. Because of this, his eyes can appear to have a faint glow in them: reflections of the spirits who constantly follow him - reflections from one world to another.
Otherwise, he's average in size. He may often be found favoring his back-right leg, which is horrifically mangled but manageable to walk on for a short amount of time. It often bothers him, and because of this he limps. Aside from this leg, the rest of him is also badly scarred, including his face. Across his muzzle, down his cheek, over his eye - all punishment. Perhaps he was meant to die, but in any case he survived and is brutally scarred. His ears are sort of choppy, with bits and holes in them just as the rest of his body was bitten and clawed repeatedly.
[atrb=border,0,true] 
His Divus scar appeared over his left eye, where his eyesight is more troubled than the right. He's probably going to be blind in this eye, as the cataract-clouded effect has started to develop more in this eye than his right. He believes this is how he constantly and so easily sees into the spirit realm, but he isn't sure.
FEARS.
- Water - but more specifically so, deep water and drowning in it.
- Horses - somewhat. They are huge beasts and could crush his skull if they wanted to.
- Losing control of himself. As a Divus, and a strong one at that, would he take the life of another wolf to prolong his death? Could he lose control of his spirit "friends"? He has seen what they can do, how they can destroy the mind and faith of a creature effortlessly. Could another, more strong Divus overrule his spirits? Would his spirits so easily disown him?
VICES.
- Schizophrenia. He often cannot distinguish the spirit realm from the real realm anymore.
- Mild fearlessness. He has lost the ability to feel most fear which can often leave him strolling right into danger.
- Mangled back-right leg. This is an extreme weak spot for him and is often in pain; if he hits it or brushes on something accidentally, the pain is immediate and immense.
STRENGTHS.
- Divus. He's not really sure how long he has been a Divus, but the relationships he has formed with some of the more long-term residents at the graveyard are strong ones. Likely so, his ability to speak with and see them is constant.
- Bravery, or probably more closely associated with this inability to feel fear for the most part - or, maybe he's just stubborn - but even in his old age he will not back down from a challenge.
- Experience. He has lived a long and eventful life giving him many years of experience both on and off the fields of battle.
PET PEEVES.
- Spirits who cannot ascend, but ask him everyday if they can leave - and then why they can't.
- Visitors in the graveyard who want to bug him, and ask him if he is some sort of warlock.
- Visitors in the graveyard who think standing and walking on top of graves is fun and risky - it's incredibly rude and the spirits highly dislike this also.
- Visitors in the graveyard who don't know he is there, and then stare at him when they do see him. Staring really puts him off. Stare long enough, and you might see something you don't want to.
- Visitors who know of him, of his past, and of his Divus nature. Generally these are wolves who have lost loved ones and want to talk to them, but Vephar can't really do anything about that and it annoys the shit out of him when the visitor insists.
LIKES.
- Life away from everyone.
- Dusk, nightfall, and the darkest shadows of the night.
- Warmth, fire - in his old age, he gets cold easily. And anyway, spirits always bring about them a chill in the air.
- The cover of fog, which is generally thick in the graveyard and adjoining wood.
- Finally, light physical company. While he does enjoy his spirit friends, it has been a while since he has had any other tie to the physical world. Perhaps if he had one person who understood he didn't always want to talk to spirits...
PERSONALITY. Mostly indifferent to generally everything, one who knows him would say he is boring. He keeps to the graveyard, never gets out, doesn't have an active social life (with physical creatures, anyway), and doesn't care for much of that at all. He would be completely content to live out his boring life by himself and his spirits if he didn't have an interesting reputation to keep up. While he doesn't care what others think about him for the most part, he does enjoy a little fun now and then and will terrorize any creature to come too close to the graveyard.
Once, he was a gentleman: an extremely kind-hearted and loving wolf who would have given his life for the wolf he loved. He had yearned for a family with her, but time had come to pass and eventually fate threw him into an interesting but lonely life. Somewhere inside of him, his true self must still be faintly glowing - but it has since been consumed and pushed back by the spirit realm and the spirits themselves who starve for his attention. His kind nature can be seen when he shows mercy to souls and helps them ascend, but otherwise the male is quiet and seemingly cold.
Agitated in his old age, he can be quick to bare fang or snap with a rude comment. He is a tired and worn wolf, and does not like childish games or life problem conversations. He does not have much patience and will not be interested in most stories. He has seen and heard a lot from his wispy friends and continues to hear all sorts of things each and every day. Some may find it offensive when he completely blows off a story or chance at conversation, but this is not his intention. He is an in-and-out kind of guy, getting done what needs to be done and nothing more, nothing less.
From what he has seen in the spirit realm, his affections and dislikes have changed in the real world. Sometimes an ancestor approaches with a physical being, and as cute or innocent or intimidating the physical creature may try to be, Vephar can tell a lot from one's ancestors and will quickly dismiss a creature if they seem to be too fake. He does not have time for cover stories or anything, nor the interest most of the time.
While he knows he is known to be some sort of scary wolf living in a graveyard with a bunch of spirits, he doesn't let this bother him too badly. He is all too used to visitors approaching wide-eyed and asking him a bunch of dumb and pointless questions. In truth, he yearns for physical company once more before his death. He knows his death is not too far off, and while he is senile and grouchy, tries to be as polite as he can if a visitor shows promise in being somebody worth his time and attention.
Every once in a while, he'll lose himself to his darker side and become an extremely vicious and sadistic creature. Whether or not this is a short-term possession or his mind going bad in his old age is uncertain. Very much unlike his usual self, he will take to the forest with his trusty trio of Gungnir, Arcadius, and Analisse - two male wolves and a female wolf who are his dirty-workers during his time of personal betrayal. They seek seemingly fun victims to haunt and scare for one night, or sometimes even more than one night, just because they can. It is a disgusting thing, and one Vephar is not personally aware of. He never remembers these incidents.
MOTHER. Serena Archeron. Deceased.
FATHER. Heist Archeron. Deceased.
SIBLINGS. { Brothers: Illiad, Maximus } - { Sister: Guinevere } All Unknown.
HISTORY.
TL;DR
After refusing to peacefully co-exist with the horses, Vephar was beaten into submission by three younger wolves, who had been sent by heaven knows who. Permanently scarred and maimed in his back leg, it took Vephar weeks to recover. Once healthy enough, he went to apologize to the equines, secretly wanting to find out who had ordered his punishment. But once there, he was shocked to learn that it had been his own alpha who had done it - and that the horses had disagreed completely. Shamed and angry, he exiled himself. To this day he lurks in the graveyard, only the dead to keep him company. A scarred, martyr of a gravekeeper.
---
Life wasn't always like this.
Vephar was born to Serena and Heist Archeron, wolves who had disbanded from their main packs to start a family of their own. Back then, the disease wasn't so common and all of his siblings survived the birth. His brothers, Illiad and Maximus, where generic European coated-wolves like his mother and father, golden-orange eyes and all. Guinevere, however, took the recessive genes of the family and came out a beautiful pristine white with baby steel blue eyes. Maximus tended to take the over-protective brother role more often than Illiad or Vephar, and likewise, neither of them had such a great relationship for their darling sister. Two years passed, and their parents joined up with a healthy pack led by the strong wolf Odin.
It wasn't long after this that the disease started to encroach on their happy lives. Some wolves of the pack fell victim, others shows symptoms but didn't seem to be dying - they were not immune, however. Odin told them that the disease was cruel. It tortured some to a grueling slow death, or gave way to mercy and took you in your sleep. Around this time, Vephar started to see strange fogs around some wolves, but he dismissed this as something the disease must bring on and assumed it was affecting his vision. He didn't have the heart to tell his family that he thought he was infected.
Odin announced that they would be traveling across the sea with a band of horses to some magical paradise that was supposed to exist. Vephar did not really trust his alpha's judgment at this point, but would not doubt him yet. He was three now, and a handsome young wolf: he didn't want to throw his chances with any of the females away. When they reached paradise, he had promised a young female named Aesa that they would go off on their own and explore the new land. It was an unstated agreement to start a family, a silent love confession that both of them were too shy to admit just then.
The horse that led them was Numenor, and he seemed like he had his wits about him even though Vephar didn't trust horses. There were a few casualties along the way, but this did not deter the group from their destination. Eventually, the group actually did reach their paradise. Odin and another alpha, Ra'zul, thanked Numenor for his help. They were extremely grateful, and Vephar rolled his eyes at the whole ordeal. The wolves expressed a truce with the horses, and at this Vephar spoke greatly out of turn and place, voicing his disapproval. Some of the other wolves looked like they agreed, but he knew none of them would speak up. He turned to his closest friend, Illiad, but even his brother would not have his back this time.
Odin was always an extremely intimidating wolf. His alpha didn't even have to speak for Vephar to know he was dismissed. Bowing his head, young Vephar backed away from the wolves and horses and silently slunk off. Later that night, he had a visitor. Aesa, with her charcoal pelt and black face, manifested from the shadows like a wraith. Her soft, pale green eyes were such a relieving sight. They doused the fire of his orange eyes, sending him chuffing for her to come closer. She swayed near the trees, and shook her head. The pained look on her face kill him in that instant. She knew something that he did not, and suddenly she was gone just as quickly as she had come. He whined into the darkness, but she did not reappear.
Instead, several younger wolves came cackling out into the clearing. Thrusting his head upward, Vephar met their challenge with bold defiance. They smelled of horses and wolves, and he knew they were part of the group of peacekeeping bastards. There were far too many of them for Vephar to take on alone, though, and they easily overpowered him. They bit and tore at his body for what seemed like hours. He was a bloody, broken mess when they were done. His ear was torn, his face was mutilated - and he wasn't even sure if he had a back leg anymore. He couldn't feel or move it. In the darkness of his demise, Vephar wheezed what he thought would be his dying breaths.
In came Aesa, with some strange plant-bits he was unfamiliar with. She didn't say anything, but sadly left them near his mouth before turning and disappearing for the last time he would ever see her. His vision was blurred and distorted from the beating, but through the strong iron-scent of his blood, he picked out her scent. It was a while before he could reach to lap up the medicine she had left. He didn't know what it was for, but it tasted terrible. Unknown to him, this was Carnicula. It was only moments after he ingested the plant that his body convulsed and his left eye began to burn intensely. He cried out into the lonely night, his pained howls echoing into the solitary forest. He was here to die. He was convinced this was the horses' doings... And Aesa. How could she have poisoned him so?
Weeks passed. In and out of restless sleep, he would wake to more foul-smelling plant laying near him. He was dying, why would he further poison himself? He had never had a reason to doubt Aesa, and so he continued to eat the plants which, somehow, seemed to be helping. They did not help his wounds or his pain. They just... helped. He awoke one day and there was no more plant. There was no fresh scent of Aesa. There wasn't anything. Until... "You've been asleep for a whole week, mister!" Nostrils flared as the broken wolf threw himself sideways, slouched into a sitting position as his eyes darted around the clearing. Nobody. "Oh! You're sitting! That's so good! I thought you were dead, mister!" Vephar snarled, frantically searching about him for the source of this young wolf. Nobody. Nothing. He was alone.
"Did the horses do that to 'ya, mister?" Still, Vephar couldn't see anything. His left eye started to burn then, and he hacked in pain. Squeezing his eyes shut, he tensed as the pain floored him. Breathing in the scent of his old blood, Vephar hugged the ground and pawed viciously at his eye. Was something in it? "Heya mister! Are you okay!?" "Where-" his voice cracked the moment he tried to speak. Slowly, he pushed through the pain and opened his eyes. They were an orange, dull and weak, and he couldn't tell if he had lost his vision or if a fog had suddenly come into the clearing. This again? "Mister?" His left ear pulled toward the sound and his head snapped to locate it. A pup. "Who are you?" "I don't know. Who are you?"
Vephar growled, and tried to stand. Slowly, his weak legs held him and he shook like an earthquake were beneath him. He turned and started to walk away from the pup. He'd find Numenor and get to the bottom of all of this. So he didn't want to live with the horses, whatever. But to kill him for that? Prick. "Hey, come on-" he was going to offer for the pup to tag along, but when he turned back to the clearing, the young lad was gone. "I can't, mister." The voice echoed now, and it sent his hairs bristling. He turned, and left the entire terrible scene behind him - forever.
Eventually, he found Numenor but the horse denied having anything to do with the brutal attack. In fact, he was extremely apologetic and this confused Vephar. Numenor suggested it was his alpha, perhaps, that had sent the attackers. Apparently, Odin was extremely embarrassed by Vephar's actions. The great stallion offered Vephar some medical attention from his best horses, but Vephar shook his head and refused. He apologized for his actions some odd weeks ago, and Numenor told him this was unnecessary because every creature was entitled their own opinion and that he would not judge the wolf based on his own preferences.
Vephar left soon after, hurt to know it was his own alpha that had ordered his apparent death. He wondered what else that bastard stole. Odin always seemed to have a thing for Aesa, but Vephar never had to worry. Now, he did. And it was silly. He set off and ran as far as he could. When his weak body and broken leg could take him no further, he fell into the fog and dirt and rested for a long while. When he woke some time later, he realized he was in a graveyard and that several wolves surrounded him. Eventually, he came to accept the fact that his treatments of Carnicula made him see into the world beyond - and the spirits always helped him find it; if Aesa had fed him this to keep him alive, he would eternally seek it out and make sure to eat a dose every now and then.
Many years passed, and Vephar lives in the graveyard to this day. He has developed a strong relationship with the spirits there, helping some ascend when he can. From the few travelers that he does get, he has learned that he has become somewhat of a myth. The spirit keeper, martyr of the graveyard set within the deep wood of Archeron (named after his cursed family name) that has no apparent end. He has been told that his mother and father have passed, and that no word is yet available about his siblings or Aesa - but they were not treated kindly after his act against Odin.
NAME. CJ.
AGE. 20.
EXPERIENCE. Eight years.
OTHER CHARACTERS. N/A
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