Warren Laenaeris
Wordless the wilds speak to the wayward soul. Wordless they expect your reply. Silence the sign of respect. Silence an act of devotion. Listen close. Hear the quiet voices.
Appearance
Too tall for a human with broad frame of muscles. Charcoal colored hair and beard maintained yet always threatening to return to a natural curly state. Amber orange eyes like those of a wild drake. Skin the color of olive oil. Scars and burns of all kinds cover his torso and limbs.
Skills and Abilities
Draconic Blood: Wild blood flowing through veins. Heightened senses. Swift to heal. Great strength and stamina. Tough as stone. Understanding of wild things.
Mute: Utter no words. Signs alone suffice. Quiet a grunt the signal of effort and pain. Sighs and intent of eyes.
Ranger-Warden: Tracking. Fighting. Survival on and off the field of battle. Being and beast alike prey and ward. Understanding of wild things in the way of scholars and huntsman alike.
Mute: Utter no words. Signs alone suffice. Quiet a grunt the signal of effort and pain. Sighs and intent of eyes.
Ranger-Warden: Tracking. Fighting. Survival on and off the field of battle. Being and beast alike prey and ward. Understanding of wild things in the way of scholars and huntsman alike.
Personality
Stoic and quiet. Wild and calm. Tamed feral.
Biography & Lore
Born into the House of Laenaeris, Warren grew up as all his kin did. Education and training to become beast handlers and tamers and hopefully ranger-wardens caring and protecting the wyld dragons from all threats within and out. Reverence yet understanding of their more beastly aspects. A House focused less on the great city of Thanasis and more on what lay around her.
Warren was set upon a path of embracing both the wild and civilized aspects of his culture.
A chatty boy prone to cheerful conversations and random bouts of singing, his life was rather normal and mundane for one of his house. He was talented at their craft but known to escape his studies at times out of boredom or some childish defiance.
This is what ultimately led to the tragedy of his youth.
Warren had escaped his duties one morning and was roaming about the city like one of the low born orphans. Exploring the alleys and hidden places like they were one of the caves spoken of outside Thanasis' walls. It was here he was ambushed, drugged, and abducted. Cultists. Heretics. Vile alchemists attempting to create beings capable of fighting the Jarlax the way only dragon riders could. Experiments that involved the capturing of dragons (tamed and wild alike) and butchering them for their parts. Draconic organs transplanted into human children. Blood fed into veins. Bones, flesh, and scales mixed with mysterious herbs to create elixers forced down throats.
Nearly none of the children and absolutely none of the dragons survived by the time the heretics were stopped. Warren was one of the few still breathing in the end. But it might have been more merciful if he had died. The experiments had broken his mind and forever changed his body. His once hazel eyes had turned into the amber orange of certain dragons. His physical attributes beyond what a normal human could boast.
But it had all come at a cost. His voice forever taken from him. His sense of self shattered beyond repair. His ability to bond with dragons severed and the greatest event for his people eternally lost to him. He was returned to his House a feral being. No longer human yet not a dragon. Not even truly something between. Just something else. Something tragic and for some unholy.
It took the rest of his youth and much of his teenage years for his family to bring him out of his feral state. They were forced to keep him outside of the city walls in the wilds to tame him. He never returned back to what he once was before.
But there was a kind of blessing to be found.
Warren grew into a body that was perfect for all aspects of his house's work and duties. While he had trouble communicating with humans even after learning to sign, there was a strange understanding between him and dragons. He seemed to just know what was wrong and what they wanted. And they had a similar understanding of him. So his house doubled down on his training and education once more and raised him to be a ranger-warden as he was always destined to be.
Warren was set upon a path of embracing both the wild and civilized aspects of his culture.
A chatty boy prone to cheerful conversations and random bouts of singing, his life was rather normal and mundane for one of his house. He was talented at their craft but known to escape his studies at times out of boredom or some childish defiance.
This is what ultimately led to the tragedy of his youth.
Warren had escaped his duties one morning and was roaming about the city like one of the low born orphans. Exploring the alleys and hidden places like they were one of the caves spoken of outside Thanasis' walls. It was here he was ambushed, drugged, and abducted. Cultists. Heretics. Vile alchemists attempting to create beings capable of fighting the Jarlax the way only dragon riders could. Experiments that involved the capturing of dragons (tamed and wild alike) and butchering them for their parts. Draconic organs transplanted into human children. Blood fed into veins. Bones, flesh, and scales mixed with mysterious herbs to create elixers forced down throats.
Nearly none of the children and absolutely none of the dragons survived by the time the heretics were stopped. Warren was one of the few still breathing in the end. But it might have been more merciful if he had died. The experiments had broken his mind and forever changed his body. His once hazel eyes had turned into the amber orange of certain dragons. His physical attributes beyond what a normal human could boast.
But it had all come at a cost. His voice forever taken from him. His sense of self shattered beyond repair. His ability to bond with dragons severed and the greatest event for his people eternally lost to him. He was returned to his House a feral being. No longer human yet not a dragon. Not even truly something between. Just something else. Something tragic and for some unholy.
It took the rest of his youth and much of his teenage years for his family to bring him out of his feral state. They were forced to keep him outside of the city walls in the wilds to tame him. He never returned back to what he once was before.
But there was a kind of blessing to be found.
Warren grew into a body that was perfect for all aspects of his house's work and duties. While he had trouble communicating with humans even after learning to sign, there was a strange understanding between him and dragons. He seemed to just know what was wrong and what they wanted. And they had a similar understanding of him. So his house doubled down on his training and education once more and raised him to be a ranger-warden as he was always destined to be.