Petyr

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Information

Player: Rokhjin

Character Full Name: Petyr Vardens

Character In-Game Name: Petyr

Nickname(s): N/A

Association(s): Gilneas, himself.

Race: Worgen

Class: Druid

Skills and Abilities: Petyr is quite manipulative, using his wits and coinpurse to further his own goals.

Age: 37

Sex: Male

Hair: Black, though grey is starting to appear in it.

Eyes: Grey-green.

Weight: 73kg.

Height: 1,83m.

Usual Garments/Armor: Petyr can usually be seen in rather expensive clothing, usually wearing both the tabard of Gilneas and, at his throat, the sigil of his house, a tower. Petyr either doesn't own, or simply chooses not to wear, armour.

Other: Considering he has no role in combat, his rather noble-looking finery can be seen at all occasions. He usually wears dark colours.

Personality

Petyr may strike most people as manipulative. He is slow to anger, instead using his wits to turn the situation to his advantage where he can. The Gilnean, like most of his kin, is rather reclusive when it comes to outsiders and, even though Gilneas officially has renounced the religion of their ancestors, the Old Ways, Petyr still prays to his own nature gods. He has quite the dislike for humans who hail from Stormwind, though he doesn't show it easily. "Even their religion is wrong."

History

Born to a lowborn lord and his commoner lady wife, Petyr's early life was rather boring. His mother had died during childbirth and his father, while friendly enough, was a fool when it came to gold and its uses. Not long after the Lady Vardens's death, their House had come to poverty as banditry ran rampant through the lands and taxes easily went unpaid.

About ten years in Lord Vardens had become the late Lord Vardens, having died to a fever. Some may even say his young son may've helped his father's passing a bit, though Petyr will always deny it as, of course, there is no proof of such accusations. Even at ten years, with the help of his advisors, the boy'd learned a thing or two when it came to success. With the father's passing, young Petyr Vardens became Lord Petyr Vardens and with it the coffers thrived. Taxes were paid on time, the criminal rates were brought down and the Vardens coinpurse was overflowing... Much more than the purse of such small lands had any right to be. Petyr, even at a young age, had a mind for gold and a hard hand for those who would seek to rob his lands of its riches.

Of course, being little more than a boy of ten, the Lord was disrespected at times -though usually behind his back- and so Vardens instead chose to work behind the scenes. A lot of the important work being taken on by those that advized him, them having taught the boy everything he knew. The boy would act the good little Lordling as the years went by, his council working to fix the mess his father had left. An eager boy, Petyr quickly picked up on the intrigues of diplomacy and, biding his time, the young Lord became more and more fitting to the role his future brought.

Lord Vardens seemed to travel a lot over the coming years. His servants kept his seat warmed and clean, considering the Lord often returned at his own leisure. He often brought back wagons with products, gold, and books, all of which came to the good of the Reach. A strapping lad of fifteen, the Lord of the Reach had proved himself capable when a letter came. The letter told him to expect visitors, though didn't say much else, only that a High Elf would be making his way south from Quel'thalas.

He had, of course, seen Quel'thalas in the past and knew what to expect of this 'mage' they'd be sending. As dinner was served and the Lord sat down to eat, the bell rang. Servants rarely were in his house when the Lord was home so Petyr went to the door to open it and noticed the female High Elf which would, later, become a friend to House Vardens. Azalea Eburi'osa.

Azalea, as expected, had little success in the Reach, though the two became friends over the year she stayed in Petyr's lands. When it was time for her to leave, the two decided to stay in touch, writing letters to one another.

Life in the Reach returned to normal. The meagre amount of smallfolk kept their lands tended, their Lord served and the taxes paid. The wall closed some time later and, though the land of Gilneas was starved, the Reach thrived nonetheless. Lord Vardens's stockhouses were overflowing and, with so little mouths to feed, was able to sell a lot of his extra food for a lot of money, filling his treasury with even more gold.

The Reach had no soldiers and no strategical value as the civil war broke out, and so was left alone. With enough gold and food to sustain them, Lord Vardens remained in his comfortable position, travelling where he deemed safe to make his fortune. He'd never taken a wife, nor had he felt the need to and, as the civil war was brought to a climax, the only thing keeping the Lord busy was his own gain, as it always had.

As all wars do, the civil war ended as well. The Reach was unscathed, the former Lord Crowley was imprisoned in Gilneas City and, as many commoners outside the Reach were fond of saying, Lord Vardens was sitting on his mountain of gold. His inactivity hadn't gone unnoticed by many of the other Lords, though his ability with gold had left a lasting impression with those who presumed to rule. Lord Vardens was soon brought to the city to help with the nation's finances, among the other Lords, none of which held Vardens in high regards due to his low birth.

With the economy back on the rise, Vardens using some of his personal resources to help, news of savage attacks in the north of Gilneas started reaching the city. Common people spoke of beastmen, highborn people spoke of madmen. Lord Vardens didn't think much of this latest madness and, though he made sure to keep his lands safe and supplied, he didn't pay much attention to this crisis.

At least, untill the beasts were at the very gates of the city... These weren't madmen, at all. The Worgen had already entered the city and were slaughtering, or at least injuring, the people. Lord Vardens wasn't such a fool as to stay and tried to make his way out. His riches were in the Reach, his people were in the Reach and, he hoped, safety would be in the Reach. He managed to get out of the city unscathed, the beasts busy attacking those around him. Lord Vardens had at least had the bright idea to take some of his peers with him, under the guise of taking them to safety. In truth, they were simply his shield.

His unwilling shields now dead, Lord Vardens tried making his way back home. However, he'd never reach it as he was bitten by a Worgen out on the road. Why he didn't die, no one knows, but the Lord of the Reach had disappeared without a trace...

As time went by and Worgen were captured by the bunch, one of the beasts seemed somewhat inactive. While he became aggressive near humans, he'd sit back and look out of his cage, almost as if planning his escape...

The Royal Alchemist and one of the Lords came to the Worgen's cage. They'd soon anesthetized the beast and dragged his arms into the stocks. A potion was poured down the numb beast's throat and later, as the beast awoke, he raised a hairy brow, his eyes rolling around at the men surrounding him before locking onto the stocks he was locked in. "What is the meaning of this?!" He demanded of the shadowy shapes around him. "I am the Lord of the Reach! Release me this instant." He added, his voice gravelly as he pulled at his bonds.

One of the shapes came closer. "Ah... Lord Vardens..." He said. "Release him... Seems the beast's gone to sleep for now." One of the shapes added, his voice sounding like that of one of Petyr's fellow lords. As Petyr's released, he goes down to a knee, still weak from his ordeal. "Ah... My lord..." He says, his lips forming what looks like an insincere smile. "Get up, Vardens." The lord said. "We have bigger issues than your weakness..."

By now, the Forsaken had already invaded the lands, as the other lord explained and the Kaldorei, the mystical race of Elves only read of in books, had seen to helping these people. "We have been unable to contact your Reach since the curse took us, Vardens." The lord said, drawing to a close. "Either your people are dead or they're killing our messengers. After the Kaldorei are done with you, perhaps you should see if they still owe fealty to their lord."

Petyr went to the Night Elves. They work their nature magic on him, some sort of ritual. Petyr returned to his own form, the tatters of his clothes hanging off his body, his sigil still on his throat. The Kaldorei smiled and told him about the evacuation and when to show up before Lord Vardens returns to the Reach.

"Halt!"

Lord Vardens stops, raising an eyebrow at the female voice. A moment later, a grin forms on his lips. "Ah... Wilda..." He says, calmly, the name of his wet nurse still fresh in his mind. "... Lord Vardens...?" The voice calls back. "The one and only..." "Come in, my Lord."

Lord Vardens was soon surrounded by his smallfolk, asking him questions about the curse and the other Gilneans. He shushed his people and told them about the evacuation. They loaded up the carts and traveled for Keel Harbour, where they found a Kaldorei ship to bring them to safety.

Now, with his riches and smallfolk safe, Lord Vardens decides to stay in his new allies' lands to help where he can. He often travels, however, in his quest for furthering his own goals, whatever those may be...