Character Sheet for Stevarn
The beginning of a series I affectionately refer to as 'The Seventh Day', a series split into two parts of six. The first half, titled 'Dawn Falling' is the beginning of a tortured love story and an origin to world apart from Earth. It tackles the conflict of love, the illusion of destiny and fate, and marks a starting point for the universe in which my writing exists within.
Meet Stevarn, the exiled wolf who's world is sent into turmoil as his very existence comes into question, and an encounter with a horse he's never met but seems to remember plagues his waking thoughts as he quests to reclaim his honour.
Reclusive not by choice, Stevarn has kept mostly to himself for all his life. Scrutinised not only by his peers but also by his mentors as a cub for his size and demeanour, Stevarn does not carry himself as a true warrior. He is sly, clever, but reluctant, and it shows. He grows close to so few, but those he does hold dear he will look out for in whatever capacity he can, even to the point of sacrificing himself.
Once exiled from his pack, Stevarn shrinks into himself. Knowing he is just prey to the rest of the world, he's wary of everyone and anything, but keen to know and understand.
Stevarn likes the quiet of night. He perceives in the darkness far better than he can during the day, though he doesn't not appreciate the chill that comes with the setting of the sun. When the moon is full, there is nothing he loves more than just exploring through the dark, feeling at peace with the forest and the land, and relishing in moments of absolute solitude where he can be sure he is the only being around at all.
He dislikes however his future, in a rather vague sense. Because his prospects within the pack are so bleak, how he does not serve some greater function other than the bare essentials, he understands he is a burden to those around him. He cannot hunt as well as the others, he is not a natural cook, he cannot even birth pups for the progeny of the tribe, and so he feels useless in his place. His future, then, is to be condemned as a worthless pack member.
Stevarn grew up alongside many other cubs all reared in his village in preparation for joining the greater pack when they were old enough to begin mating. With the other children, Stevarn was taught the basics in how to survive out in the woodlands, of other tribes and creatures that skulked the land, and how to look after oneself in the homestead. Above all else, he was taught to hunt, kill, and capture, though unlike his peers he failed to excel at such tasks, whereas he exceeded them in agility and speed. Often mocked for being more effeminate than what was required for the pack, Stevarn grew up bitter and resentful of those around him, though he learnt quickly to keep such opinions to himself.
As he grew older, he grew wiser, but not for the better. He learnt how to manipulate people, how to keep secrets and use them to his advantage, and he learnt how to get by without being a necessity to the pack.
Stevarn has no siblings, and only his mother and father are the closest relatives. Stevarn has never asked them about extended family, as he fears the answer. He is merely thankful that he has his parents, unlike some of the cubs in the tribe whose parents were killed during a rather awful raid on the village when he was young.
Stevarn lives high up on the slopes of a valley in a lush landscape on the planet of Divinia. Though Stevarn knows little of this, all he is aware of is his homeland and the small view of the world beyond he has.
Stevarn is, unlike the rest of his tribe, short and lithe. His build is more expected from a teenaged cub than a man like himself, but he fails to build the bulk for no good reason and he struggles to maintain the mass others his age would do so naturally. But he is toned, for all the strength he can't muster, and can be very precise.
His fur is a glossy, silken grey, and his eyes a pallid blue, often described as a rather ghostly, haunting figure who can slip into the night and look as if he were born for the shadows.
Stevarn, much like any male in his tribe, wears a single loincloth woven my the sisters of his tribe. It's a mossy green and covers enough of his private areas for his satisfaction. Beyond that, Stevarn chooses to wear a satchel with him, as he finds the extra pockets for assortments to be useful.
His dagger was gifted to him by the Alpha upon his exile as a last means of defense should he find himself in danger. The engraving of grey lines upon the face of the blade denote back to the tribe's belief that one's soul is carried in smoke when the body is burnt upon a pyre. This smoke joins with the gods in the sky and remains there to watch over the pack forever more.