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Description

3.15.2018 // Reference uploaded.

Qestir

hatred is born of misunderstandings
Name...Qestir (Kes-tier)
Age...young adult
Gender...agender (they/them)
Voice...husky and soft

Species...gray wolf
Build...sleek, light-weight
Height...31"
Weight...68 lbs
Coat...thick, smooth

Pack...Damasca
Rank...Delta Wayfarer

Family...deceased
Friends...Neith?
Enemies...Stormhaven, any pack with slaves/servitude
Significant Other(s)...none
Orientation...asexual panromantic

Drive...to live freely
Alignment...neutral
Religion...none

Personality
Made a cold cynic by their tender years as a thrall, Qestir has little faith in the newly founded Damasca. They remain only because their survival would not be guaranteed elsewhere, especially alone. Their trust for their packmates extends as far as they can throw them, and while they aren’t proud of it, they have quite a short temper as well. Due to the events following the failed coup of their youth, Qestir finds it difficult to forgive; they aren’t afraid to show their displeasure either, and anyone who crosses them should expect some passive-aggressive fallout.

Their morality was shaped by a need to survive, and like many raised in Stormhaven, they have no qualms about what other wolves might consider wrong. They have little sense of loyalty for the pack, but they are willing to do what is necessary to stay there. By no means “good”, Qestir does feel obligated to repay debts, and won’t turn on another wolf without cause.

Despite their haughty attitude towards most, Qestir somewhat cowardly. They fear complete isolation. So they do truly value the precious few with whom they have a mutual understanding. More than that, they worry that the peace will not last; the ghost of the alphaess and the wolves of Stormhaven still haunt their dreams. Though the nightmare has ended, the phantoms of the past refuse to allow them an idyllic ending.

History
Qestir's legacy lies among the enslaved descendants of Stormhaven's first conquest. They were a product of oppression spanning generations since, a cog in the machine, an object. Their birth was not celebrated, not any more than one would marvel at a new possession. Fear of their betters overshadowed the young thrall's every action; insubordination was readily punished, and Qestir was quick to fall in line. Even among peers there was little tolerance for the weak. You lied, you stole, or you died trying. This too was their lot in life, and they accepted it for what it was. Still, Qestir couldn't help but yearn for something more, and talk of rebellion never fell on deaf ears. Empty though their words were, they held an appeal that made them difficult to ignore. In particular they idolized Gareth, a wolf with the charisma to unite the slaves and the courage to lead them. His son too, though they were the same age, was Qestir’s role model. Wit sharp as a whip kept Vargas a cut above the rest, and his potential didn’t go unnoticed. Perhaps it was due to their predisposition as a thrall, but Qestir was all too happy to place their faith in the two.

When the day of the rebellion arrived they were among those who dared to try and change their fate. As they ventured into the unknown they foolishly entertained the possibility of freedom; and they were severely punished for that crime. Bodies fell around them, dead or wounded by the alphaess’ soldiers; cries rang out in the darkness as Qestir cowered in absolute submission. The ambush was successful; Qestir was among the few survivors, though they would soon wish they hadn’t been. Only later would they realize that Vargas was not among the living or the deceased, but even that small victory felt like a betrayal as they were reminded of their place in the pack. They began to distance themselves from the others; the sweet promise of freedom no longer resonated in their heart. And as their treatment worsened, their mind shifted the blame onto Vargas. He had abandoned them to this fate. He and Gareth had drawn them in and brought them nothing but pain in return. They were naive, thinking their life could be anything else.

Other+ 2 Bones

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Description

3.15.2018 // Reference uploaded.

Qestir

hatred is born of misunderstandings
Name...Qestir (Kes-tier)
Age...young adult
Gender...agender (they/them)
Voice...husky and soft

Species...gray wolf
Build...sleek, light-weight
Height...31"
Weight...68 lbs
Coat...thick, smooth

Pack...Damasca
Rank...Delta Wayfarer

Family...deceased
Friends...Neith?
Enemies...Stormhaven, any pack with slaves/servitude
Significant Other(s)...none
Orientation...asexual panromantic

Drive...to live freely
Alignment...neutral
Religion...none

Personality
Made a cold cynic by their tender years as a thrall, Qestir has little faith in the newly founded Damasca. They remain only because their survival would not be guaranteed elsewhere, especially alone. Their trust for their packmates extends as far as they can throw them, and while they aren’t proud of it, they have quite a short temper as well. Due to the events following the failed coup of their youth, Qestir finds it difficult to forgive; they aren’t afraid to show their displeasure either, and anyone who crosses them should expect some passive-aggressive fallout.

Their morality was shaped by a need to survive, and like many raised in Stormhaven, they have no qualms about what other wolves might consider wrong. They have little sense of loyalty for the pack, but they are willing to do what is necessary to stay there. By no means “good”, Qestir does feel obligated to repay debts, and won’t turn on another wolf without cause.

Despite their haughty attitude towards most, Qestir somewhat cowardly. They fear complete isolation. So they do truly value the precious few with whom they have a mutual understanding. More than that, they worry that the peace will not last; the ghost of the alphaess and the wolves of Stormhaven still haunt their dreams. Though the nightmare has ended, the phantoms of the past refuse to allow them an idyllic ending.

History
Qestir's legacy lies among the enslaved descendants of Stormhaven's first conquest. They were a product of oppression spanning generations since, a cog in the machine, an object. Their birth was not celebrated, not any more than one would marvel at a new possession. Fear of their betters overshadowed the young thrall's every action; insubordination was readily punished, and Qestir was quick to fall in line. Even among peers there was little tolerance for the weak. You lied, you stole, or you died trying. This too was their lot in life, and they accepted it for what it was. Still, Qestir couldn't help but yearn for something more, and talk of rebellion never fell on deaf ears. Empty though their words were, they held an appeal that made them difficult to ignore. In particular they idolized Gareth, a wolf with the charisma to unite the slaves and the courage to lead them. His son too, though they were the same age, was Qestir’s role model. Wit sharp as a whip kept Vargas a cut above the rest, and his potential didn’t go unnoticed. Perhaps it was due to their predisposition as a thrall, but Qestir was all too happy to place their faith in the two.

When the day of the rebellion arrived they were among those who dared to try and change their fate. As they ventured into the unknown they foolishly entertained the possibility of freedom; and they were severely punished for that crime. Bodies fell around them, dead or wounded by the alphaess’ soldiers; cries rang out in the darkness as Qestir cowered in absolute submission. The ambush was successful; Qestir was among the few survivors, though they would soon wish they hadn’t been. Only later would they realize that Vargas was not among the living or the deceased, but even that small victory felt like a betrayal as they were reminded of their place in the pack. They began to distance themselves from the others; the sweet promise of freedom no longer resonated in their heart. And as their treatment worsened, their mind shifted the blame onto Vargas. He had abandoned them to this fate. He and Gareth had drawn them in and brought them nothing but pain in return. They were naive, thinking their life could be anything else.

Other+ 2 Bones

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