Shroud

Varos, the Hollowed Huskbreaker, is a figure shaped by endurance and conflict. His armor is worn but solid, heavy with the scars of battles long past. The plating is uneven, some sections reinforced with whatever materials were available, giving the impression that survival mattered more than uniformity. His cloak drapes loosely over his broad frame, tattered at the edges, darkened from age and exposure. The hood hangs low, casting his face into shadow, though his gaze always seems sharp, always searching. His stance is firm, purposeful, as if he expects the world to challenge him and is prepared to strike back.

Varos is stoic and observant, carrying an air of quiet intensity. He is not one for idle chatter, preferring to let his actions speak for him. He is unforgiving and resolute, with a strong sense of justice that is often harsh. Varos is a guardian of his territory, and he will not hesitate to act against those who threaten it.

There was never a home for Varos, only places he endured. Lanternwood tolerates his presence, but it does not welcome him. He prefers it that way. The Hollowed do not speak of their pasts, but Varos does not need words for his. His body carries the weight of old battles, the marks of fights fought long after they should have ended. He does not seek war—he does not seek much of anything—but when the blade is drawn, it is drawn to end. He watches, always. The streets shift, people come and go, yet Varos remains where the world has not yet frayed. He does not venture far beyond the familiar—not because he fears what lies beyond, but because he knows himself too well. There is no place beyond Lanternwood that would grant him peace. He does not hunt, but he does not forgive. Those who wrong him find their reckoning swift and final. He does not speak warnings, does not leave room for redemption. The world is not kind, and neither is he.