ID #3957996
This wolf is currently on a hunting cool down. She will be able to take on the Hunter role again in one rollover!
This wolf has not rolled over today and will not be able to be traded or gifted until its next rollover.
This wolf has not rolled over today and will not be able to be traded or gifted until its next rollover.
| Currents | |
|---|---|
| Age | 5 years 0 months (Adult) |
| Sex | Female |
| Energy |
|
| Mood |
|
| Hunger |
|
| HP |
|
| Personality | Optimistic |
| Breeding Information | |
|---|---|
| Age in Rollovers | 120 |
| Pups Bred | 0 pups bred |
| Last Bred | Never |
| Fertility | Low |
| Heat Cycle |
In heat for 4 rollovers  |
| Items Applied | None! |
| Looks | |
|---|---|
| Base | Piasa (0.1%) |
| Base Genetics | Warm Light III |
| Eyes | Storm |
| Skin | Black |
| Nose | Black |
| Claws | Lusxnei |
| Mutation | None |
| Secondary Mutation | None |
| Carrier Status | Unknown |
| Variant | Relaxed |
| Markings
|
|
|---|---|
| Slot 1 | None |
| Slot 2 | None |
| Slot 3 | White Blaze (15% : T0) |
| Slot 4 | None |
| Slot 5 | Black Undercoat (40% : T1) |
| Slot 6 | Moss Shaded (1% : T3) |
| Slot 7 | Black Panda (100% : T2) |
| Slot 8 | Clover Undersides (1% : T3) |
| Slot 9 | White Cross (25% : T1) |
| Slot 10 | Yellow Trim (45% : T1) |
Biography
His eyes found her quickly, hands involuntarily moving to his weapons. She was about ten years old, wrapped in furs against the cold, her pale face poking out to peer at him with unabashed curiosity. She had emerged from behind a broad oak, mitten clad hands clasping a small bunch of pale yellow flowers he recognised as winterblooms. They grew well in the surrounding woods and sometimes people from the city came to pick them.
To his surprise the little girl came and sat next to him. "My name's Alornis," she said. "Your name is Vaelin Al Sorna."
She seemed to be studying him, her eyes roaming his face. It should have been uncomfortable but he found it oddly endearing. "Winterblooms," he said, nodding at her flowers. "Are you supposed to pick those?"
"Oh, yes. I'm going to draw them and write down what they are. I have a big book of flowers I've drawn. Dadda taught me their names. He knows lots about flowers and plants."
"
---
Vaelin returned to the table. "My father really left you with nothing?"
"It wasn't his fault." Alornis tone had an edge to it. "Whatever coin we had went fast when the sickness came. Any lands he held, or rights to pension, disappeared when he stopped being Battle Lord. His friends, men he had been to war with, no longer knew him. It was not an easy time, brother."
He could see the reproach in her gaze, knowing he had earned it. "There was no place for me here," he said. "Or so I thought. You knew him, grew up under his eyes. I did not. If he wasn't at war, he was training his horses or his men, and when he was here . . ."
"He loved you," Alornis told him. "He never lied to me, I always knew who you were, who I was, that we did not share a mother. That every hour of every day he wished with all his heart he hadn't followed your mother's wish. He wanted you to know that. As the sickness grew worse and he couldn't leave his bed, it was all he could talk of."
----
Vaelin called on the song and let the voices fade, scanning the Volarian ranks and waiting for the note of recognition. Perhaps they executed him for cowardice. But then it rose, a clear note of pure fear as his gaze fell on a battalion positioned just to the left of the Volarian centre.
Well, he thought. At least I got to know Alornis.
He kicked his heels into Flame's flanks and the stallion reared before spurring into a gallop.
----
Lyrna moved closer to the ship, pausing to take Alornis's hand, squeezing it tight. "Thank you, my lady. I hereby name you the Queen's Artificer. Now the ship is done I would ask you turn your mind to the prosecution of the war.
---
Alornis was drawing again when she returned to her tent, the charcoal stub moving with feverish industry across the parchment as she hunched over her easel. During the day she would tinker with the cart-mounted ballista, all the time barely saying a word, but at night she would draw. It was only when she worked that her face took on some animation, tense with concentration and eyes lit with memory, though, judging by the nature of her drawings, Lyrna divined they were memories best left alone. Burning ships, burning men, sailors screaming as they flailed in a storm-tossed sea. Page after page of expertly rendered horror produced in a nightly ritual of self-flagellation.
"Did she eat something, at least?" Lyrna asked Murel, shrugging off her rain-soaked cloak.
"A little porridge only, Highness. Though Davoka had to practically force it on her."
She went and sat by Alornis for a time, the Lady Artificer acknowledging her presence with a barely perceptible nod, her charcoal continuing to move without interruption. Lyrna took some heart from the fact that this sketch differed from the usual finely crafted carnage, a portrait of some kind. Alornis set out the basic shape of the face with a few expertly placed lines then began to detail the eyes, dark eyes, narrowed in judgement and reproach, eyes she knew well.
"Your brother loves you," she told Alornis, reaching out to still her hand, feeling it tremble.
Alornis didn't look at her, eyes still fixed on the picture. "It's my father," she whispered. "They had the same eyes. He loved me too. Perhaps, if the Faith has it right, he still sees me. It could be that he loves me more now, for we are the same are we not? He too once killed thousands by fire. Sometimes he would dream of it, when he got older and the sickness came, thrashing in his bed and calling out for forgiveness."
Lyrna resisted the impulse to shake her, slap her, try to force a return of the bright, sweet girl she had met in Alltor. But looking into her confused eyes she knew that girl had gone, consumed by fire along with so many others. "Take your sleeping draught, my lady," she said instead, gently but firmly tugging the charcoal from her fingers. "Hard marching tomorrow, you need your sleep."
To his surprise the little girl came and sat next to him. "My name's Alornis," she said. "Your name is Vaelin Al Sorna."
She seemed to be studying him, her eyes roaming his face. It should have been uncomfortable but he found it oddly endearing. "Winterblooms," he said, nodding at her flowers. "Are you supposed to pick those?"
"Oh, yes. I'm going to draw them and write down what they are. I have a big book of flowers I've drawn. Dadda taught me their names. He knows lots about flowers and plants."
"
---
Vaelin returned to the table. "My father really left you with nothing?"
"It wasn't his fault." Alornis tone had an edge to it. "Whatever coin we had went fast when the sickness came. Any lands he held, or rights to pension, disappeared when he stopped being Battle Lord. His friends, men he had been to war with, no longer knew him. It was not an easy time, brother."
He could see the reproach in her gaze, knowing he had earned it. "There was no place for me here," he said. "Or so I thought. You knew him, grew up under his eyes. I did not. If he wasn't at war, he was training his horses or his men, and when he was here . . ."
"He loved you," Alornis told him. "He never lied to me, I always knew who you were, who I was, that we did not share a mother. That every hour of every day he wished with all his heart he hadn't followed your mother's wish. He wanted you to know that. As the sickness grew worse and he couldn't leave his bed, it was all he could talk of."
----
Vaelin called on the song and let the voices fade, scanning the Volarian ranks and waiting for the note of recognition. Perhaps they executed him for cowardice. But then it rose, a clear note of pure fear as his gaze fell on a battalion positioned just to the left of the Volarian centre.
Well, he thought. At least I got to know Alornis.
He kicked his heels into Flame's flanks and the stallion reared before spurring into a gallop.
----
Lyrna moved closer to the ship, pausing to take Alornis's hand, squeezing it tight. "Thank you, my lady. I hereby name you the Queen's Artificer. Now the ship is done I would ask you turn your mind to the prosecution of the war.
---
Alornis was drawing again when she returned to her tent, the charcoal stub moving with feverish industry across the parchment as she hunched over her easel. During the day she would tinker with the cart-mounted ballista, all the time barely saying a word, but at night she would draw. It was only when she worked that her face took on some animation, tense with concentration and eyes lit with memory, though, judging by the nature of her drawings, Lyrna divined they were memories best left alone. Burning ships, burning men, sailors screaming as they flailed in a storm-tossed sea. Page after page of expertly rendered horror produced in a nightly ritual of self-flagellation.
"Did she eat something, at least?" Lyrna asked Murel, shrugging off her rain-soaked cloak.
"A little porridge only, Highness. Though Davoka had to practically force it on her."
She went and sat by Alornis for a time, the Lady Artificer acknowledging her presence with a barely perceptible nod, her charcoal continuing to move without interruption. Lyrna took some heart from the fact that this sketch differed from the usual finely crafted carnage, a portrait of some kind. Alornis set out the basic shape of the face with a few expertly placed lines then began to detail the eyes, dark eyes, narrowed in judgement and reproach, eyes she knew well.
"Your brother loves you," she told Alornis, reaching out to still her hand, feeling it tremble.
Alornis didn't look at her, eyes still fixed on the picture. "It's my father," she whispered. "They had the same eyes. He loved me too. Perhaps, if the Faith has it right, he still sees me. It could be that he loves me more now, for we are the same are we not? He too once killed thousands by fire. Sometimes he would dream of it, when he got older and the sickness came, thrashing in his bed and calling out for forgiveness."
Lyrna resisted the impulse to shake her, slap her, try to force a return of the bright, sweet girl she had met in Alltor. But looking into her confused eyes she knew that girl had gone, consumed by fire along with so many others. "Take your sleeping draught, my lady," she said instead, gently but firmly tugging the charcoal from her fingers. "Hard marching tomorrow, you need your sleep."
| Birth Stats | ||
|---|---|---|
| Strength | Speed | Agility |
| 54 | 88 | 84 |
| Wisdom | Smarts | Total |
| 55 | 51 | 332 |
| Birth Information | |
|---|---|
| Moon | Unknown |
| Season | Unknown |
| Biome | Unknown |
| Decorations and Background |
|---|
Background
[USA] Alaska - Aleutian Islands4 uses left
Decorations
Above
Irish Setter4 uses left
Windswept Thrift Petals [White]4 uses left
Smoky Quartz Necklace4 uses left
Arnica Flower Decor2 uses left
Below
None equipped!
In current pack for 0 rollovers
Wolf created on 2022-01-20 09:46:35