- Name:
Varrus Volkanon
- Class:
Lord
- Age:
23
- Sex:
Male
-
- Equipment:
Iron Sword
2x Concoction
- Personality:
Very matter of fact and blunt, this man comes across as one of the most honest- if not abrasive- souls many have ever encountered. Though his loyalty lies truly with his family, his service to the Church has been steadfast and zealous- some would say even cold hearted. In combat, he's like a statue, standing erect and ever still; his eyes ever scanning the battle before shouting orders to his house guard that accompanies him.
However, as sinister as this man seems, he cares for his men. He'll never send his troops into a situation where they have no chance, and does not execute prisoners or surrendering enemies. Though he has raided a few cities of the opposing faction, he has a surprisingly low amount of civilian casualties- punishing any soldier that dares to step out of line. If spoken to in private, one will find it near impossible to garner any secrets he does not openly speak of; an unwavering stare unnerving many that find themselves in it's gaze.
- Biography:
Fourth born heir to the Volkanon family, a noble house located in the Kingdom of Valm, he was offered to lead a contingent of his families house-guard under the banner of the church by his father. Though having no personal opinions on the matter, Varrus was quick to take up the charge in an attempt to bring honor and power to his family name. Though possessing a strong position as they were, the Volkanon's patriarch had grown power hungry and saw a chance to bolster his standings even more at the cost of a distant heir to his title.
As both the boy and his father's figures came into view, both were seen seated at the opposite ends of a rather large and lavish display of food and beverages spread across the table in the family keep.
"So I take it you've heard already?" The boy's father stated, reaching across the table as he drew a piece of bread from a display before him, "It's to be expected. Seems every secret spoken these days spreads like wildfire."
"Yes, father. Though I've forgotten the name of the person divulged the information," Varrus offered, glancing knowingly over to a female servant now fidgeting in the corner. Though she offered him a subtle smile and bow of her head in thanks, he'd fail to acknowledge it as he looked back to his father, "So, you'd send me to the front."
"Yes, yes- but merely as a figure head, and nothing more. You're to lead our troops in whatever endeavors the Chuch lays before you. Though I doubt you'll be anywhere close to the fighting." Spoke Lord Volkanon, his thinly veiled attempt at a lie all but ignored by his son.
"I see. So what has the church promised '
us'," Varrus spoke pointedly, "In return for our loyalty? Something worth the cost of your men and blood, I hope."
"... That is no concern of yours," The narrow eyes of his father pointed like daggers in his son's direction, though maintaining a half-hearted smile as he did so, "Just do your family proud, and you'll see your loyalty rewarded."
"Very well, Lord Volkanon. I'll see to the perparations at once. Gods willing, I may actually return." And with an empty bow, the boy turned and left, earning an even harder sneer from his father who now openly displayed his disdain. No more words were spoken, no more lies told; Varrus simply rallied the company of men his father promised, and marched them with all due haste to the church to awaiting his new life... A soldier on the front lines.