Name: Volkarosh [ VOL Karosh] or [Bol-KA-rosh] Race: ¼ Ice/Alkidike, ½ Leaf Gender: Female Base Traits:
Methodical
Volkarosh is a patient child - They plan out every move they make and are very careful about what they do. Volka doesn't like to do things without a good deal of observation, planning and preparation, and they try to avoid spontaneous things. Although she usually figures out alternate ways to do frustrating things, Volkarosh hates being rushed and will act out in a tantrum (or, more likely, a sulk) if she is forced to hurry. She also hates surprises, even good ones, and becomes exceptionally stressed if something unexpected happens and she is rushed – not a good combination for her.
Unimpressed
Volkarosh is a hard child to impress. Please, sure – Volka is happy with small things – but impress? Most things just don't throw her into childish awe or wonder, even if she has never seen them before. This makes her come off as a very cynical, serious child, or perhaps boring child, and she is to an extent. It just takes a lot to intrigue her.
Bemused
Although she seems to frown at the world, Volkarosh actually thinks that reactions of others to it is amusing. Although she does not show her feelings very much, Volkarosh enjoys the actions of others, and is very capable of feeling warm emotions towards others.
Class: Youngling -> Sniper Personality:
Volkarosh is a very neutral child – it's hard to tell what goes on in that sparky little mind of hers at any given time, and even her twin can only guess at it's workings. She is a child of few words and fewer expressions, seemingly going through her life without emotion. This is not true - Volkarosh is full of emotions, feeling them as wide ranging or strongly as any other earthling child. She just simply doesn't feel like expressing them outright – a small smile, a small crease of the face; this is the most that can be seen.
Beneath this placid surface is a child that is not malicious nor particularly mischevious (though she is a little bit.) Volkarosh desires order in her life and, even as a child, spend much of their time planning and organizing their day. She often has backup plans for even obscure and unlikely occasions and, because of this meticulous and careful attitude, Volkarosh is rarely unprepared. Her plans are (at least in her mind) always highly practical and based on reason and logic behind it.
She becomes frustrated when the unexpected occurs, however. Surprises can throw rocks into the best of plans, but Volkarosh holds herself to a high standard and even random chance is neigh inexcusable: she considers failure a thing that should not happen. Later in life, Volkarosh will likely learn how to manage even when things hit the fan, but as a youngling this is when she shows her emotions the most – when the stomping, frustrated tantrums occur. Fortunately, she is confident in her own intellectual and physical abilities and usually outright tantrums are short lived, though the frustration may simmer beneath the surface for a long time.
Volkarosh favors stability. She likes it when things and people do not change, or at least change very little and very slowly. She gets attached to specific people especially, and can border on clingy. As it is, while Volkarosh is hard to reach emotionally and socially, she is highly devoted and loyal, often extremely protective of people they care about. Family always comes first, and that does not always specifically mean blood family – her friendships solidify easily, making friends almost extended and honorary family members. She expects the same out of them, too.
Volkarosh, however, prefers to be alone much of the time, where things are completely predictable. However she will not actively chase away company – she enjoys the presence of people to a large degree and, so long as their appearance isn't too unexpected or troublesome, she is happy to sit, talk, and listen to their problems.
History: Volkarosh and her twin brother Arronthain were born in a remote Sautian village to Votzhem and Iroia during the tense events of the Alkidike uprising. Her father, though a half Alkidike himself, refused to respond to the rumors and subsequent call to duty. He did not want to fight on either side of the fight – for or against the extremists – because he did not want to raise his blades against his own sisters. Iroia stayed with him in his mother's home, and this was where the twins were raised...
Posted: Tue Jul 28, 2015 7:05 pm
Blood Kin: Votzhem: Ice/Alkidike Blade - Votzhem is Volkarosh's father. Iroia: Leaf Swordsman- Iroia is Volkarosh's mother. Arronthain: Ice/Alkidike/Leaf Youngling - Arronthain is Volkarosh's twin brother. Vennan: (NPC) Ice Artisan - Vennan is Volkarosh's grandmother. Lakshmi: (NPC) Alkidike Warrior/Lumberjack- Lakishmi is Volkarosh's grandmother. Ruelash: Ice Knight - Ruelash is Volkarosh's cousin. Jawaad Ice Prentice- Jawaad is Volkarosh's cousin.
Extended Family: Kaalnia: Alkidike Warrior – Votzhem considers Kaalnia his sister, and so Volkarosh - though she has not met Kaalnia - considers her to be her Aunt. Her father tells her all kinds of wild stories about her, some of which Volka doesn't entirely believe, but she wants to find out for herself some day. Kiunyki: Alkidike Prentice – As Kaalnia's daughter, Volkarosh considers her to be her cousin. She hasn't heard good things about her, though - apparently she was mean to her father. Hmm.
Other People: Direk: Ruelash's Aldabuck Familiar – Briella: Alkidike Warrior – Kaalnia's sister, so technically an Aunt, but Volka isn't so sure. She has heard few stories featuring her. Ilyra: Alkidike Warrior – Ilyra is Briella's daughter. Volka doesn't know much about her.
Complete: X Battle: Kaalnia vs Ruelash (Cameo) X Finding the Elusive Safety: (Cameo) X Getting my Bearings (Cameo) X Survival, Pure and Simple (Cameo) XXXX Boredom and Competition (Cameo) X Its a Twin Thing (Ruelash, Iroia, Arronthain, Volkarosh) XX Remembering the Past (Versatile Prompt) XX Sins and Virtues (CYOA) X META Tournament Round 1: Volkarosh vs Solari (Lost) X META Tournament: The Stands * X Meta: Jauhar's Festival of Lights - Prayers to Serin XX World Event: Creepy Crawlies, Volkarosh and Iroia X Meta: Ch 8, the Grand Market XX Weapons and the Art (Iroia and Volkarosh) XX Meta: Ch 9, Grave Expectations X Class Affinity: Tranquil Darts
Progress: Prentice to Stage 2: RP Growth Points 20/25 (Need to trade in 7 meta points for 5 growth points) Class Affinity Solo DONE Class Quest Needed
Volkarosh had been fighting for her life for as long as she could remember. Every day had been a fight for survival ever since the great roaring whiteness had separated her from her family. Food had not been easy to find, nor drinkable water or warm shelter. It required work and countless hours of searching and effort. She had been in conflict with the brutality of nature for so long that it was normal to face death every day in some way. And, in spite of it, she survived. She prevailed. She had not done it alone, however. Ruelash – Lashy – had been with her the whole time.
They had fought for their lives against the unrelenting forces of nature together, and they had prevailed. She knew, too, that he fought others more mortal and defeat-able than the elements. She had watched as he clashed his blades against – and into – the bandits they had met in the roads of Sauti and in the expanse of the Tale. Even before they had left their shelter in the freezing wilderness, she had known what a fight between two people was, and how her companion felt about it.
But sometimes around the fire, in the cold depths of night, he told her of a very different kind of fight. There, it was not two people, but whole masses of them, clashing together in a horizon of violence and blood. He told her about the screams of battle and the dead piling upon one another like tortured sculptures. He told her stories of in-the-moment action, of single moves that could have cost him his life, but had instead taken anothers. She would watch his eyes grow distant and his movements more animated, and Volkarosh knew that, whatever war was, he loved it and missed it dearly.
But she herself did not understand. The idea of war seemed so far away, many miles and a lifetime ago. Just the idea of so many people in one place was a hard one for the isolated child to grasp, though she vaguely remembered the village she once had lived in. Ever since he had come to Jahuar, though the idea that there could be enough people to have a war had become a possibility, but the concept of war was not clarified. In fact, Volkarosh was confused. Lashy's interpretation of it was not the only one.
Volkarosh was intrigued by this. So, she asked everyone in her life about it at some point, dutifully collecting all the information she could. War was something that was clearly important to the adults in her life. It behooved her to understand their feelings on it, and built her own opinions from what she understood. That was the plan, anyway.
With Ruelash, he loved war and battle because it made sense to him, just as surviving in the wilderness had. Volkarosh wondered if anything else truly made sense to him. There were moments when she wondered if her grown up friend understood the world around him at all.
Her mother was similar. She gloried in war and reminisced about the days when she and Ruelash tore through the Oban ranks and, even, snuck into their camp. Somehow, though, Volkarosh could see that she was different. Iroia didn't love war. She loved Volkarosh, and Arronthain, and Votzhem. If she had to choose between fighting and her family, she would choose them. She didn't think Ruelash would have chosen her over a war, and there was the key difference between them.
Her father was similar, in a sense. His priority was his family. He wanted to stay with them. But she could see something else when she talked to him, something that could pull him away. Being an Alkidike meant a lot to him, she knew. He did not love war, but if the Alkidike were to go to war... Volkarosh thought he would follow. The idea of that – that he could leave them , just like that – stirred something in her chest, half pride and half unease.
Aunty Kaalnia said that war was not fun, and that it was not something Volkarosh should think about. She was dismissive and casual, but Volkarosh could tell that there was more to it, something strange and aberrantly sad behind the carefree grin and the facepaint. The child pressed at her, trying to find a better answer, but each time she did, Kaalnia rebuffed her. It was frustrating.
And Arronthain... Arron knew nothing of war.
So, to Ruelash, it was truth. To her mother, it was fun. To her father, it was a duty. To Kaalnia, it was something to not be spoken of... Volkarosh sat on a branch, nibbling on the saved remains of a cookie and tried to decide what war meant to her. She was stymied. War, she had gathered, was something that you had to experience before you knew what it was.
So, she settled for a compromise, a way of thinking about what she had found: War... she thought, staring into the luminesence-gilded canopy, Is a storm. A storm that is far away, but could come again at any time. And when it came, the people around her would scatter like leaves in the wind, pulled in different directions by their unique desires and feelings.
And when that time came, she needed to have a plan.
Volkarosh awoke suddenly, sweating, angry and confused. What had all that dream nonsense been about? Why had she dreamt it in the first place? She drank the water beside her, realizing that she was monstrously thirsty, but that thirst failed to quench her anger. She felt cheated out of the end of her dream and angry at the way things had gone. She knew she had done everything right – hadn't she? Everything according to logic and reason. To what avail?
With a huff, she propelled herself out of bed. No point thinking about it more. It was a dream... just a dream. And yet, it bothered her all day...
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Posted: Fri Jan 06, 2017 9:50 pm
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Creepy Crawlers World Event❧ Rp, Iroia and Volkarosh❧ 201 Words❧
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The outing with her mother had been fun and exciting - Volkarosh wasn't sure if she had learned much about her mother from it. Iroia was so much like Ruelash - there wasn't much new in it.
Instead, she felt she had showed her mother something of her, revealed something from beneath the careful control in which she held herself. She had shown her mother that she could hunt, that she could track things capably in a jungle, that she could take down prey and work in a team.
Competence.
Somehow, though, that was all that needed to be shown. It was what Volka had wanted to make sure her mother knew. It felt good, now, that she knew it, though many questions were as-yet unanswered. There would be, Volka knew, many questions yet to come.
Not the least of which was her choice of weapon. Could her mother, Volkarosh wondered, help her choose? Specialization would bring skill, but would that be the bow? The crossbow? The way of dagger and poison? Volkarosh didn't think that she would be suited to dual blades or close brutal combat, but it needed another perspective.
But Volkarosh had never seen her mother as a storm. Iroia had always been good to her, as if afraid to lose her again. Maybe she had admitted that out loud, too. Vosh thought she understood.
But she didn't know why she had made her mother angry. She had asked reasonable questions, had expected reasonable answers, and had gotten... a storm in response. Why? Well, whatever it was, Volka was not sorry. Her mother needed to know that she would not back down, and she was not afraid of her.
Hmmph. But her mother had given her some good advice, and a good lead. If her mother wouldn't take her to see Dyakida and explore the possibilities of her weapons, then her father would. If he wouldn't, then she would seek her out herself. The direction was clear. The solution was in front of her.
Volkarosh knew that being calm was not expected, not after the madness of the gathering. A person had been kidnapped, beneath the noses of everyone – wind, ice, and other – gathered in Zena, and a beast previously unknown had been revealed as the culprit behind the spate of disappearances. It saved effort – Volka and her brother did not need to investigate further or set any traps to know what it was. Ironically, it was a beast from Jauhar, their... well, Arron's... homeland. Her homeland, she mused quietly by the flickering fire, was not really anywhere. She wondered if their father had heard, and if he was hunting it. Volkarosh would, herself, love to hunt down the monster and the missing. But... she looked at her twin's resting form... it would be up to him. Perhaps, one day, she would have a direction to lead them in. But not now – now she needed to stick together with him, and follow him wherever he might wish to go. He seemed to have a destination in mind, after all.
She did hope that he would pursue the hybrids they had met, or investigate the disappearances further. But if he did not, then so be it. Either way, she was not letting him take his path alone. The whole of the world was open to the two of them, and as they traversed it, she would cover him, from the shadows if necessary, she and her new crossbow. She would ask him about his goals and purpose tomorrow, when he had rested and then... to the future.
Tranquil Darts Class Affinity❧ Volkarosh❧ 932 Words❧
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Volkarosh took aim at the gourds lined up on the stumps in front of her, feeling the pull of the bow in her arms and back as she aligned it carefully - just as she had been taught on that cold Zenan mountain so long ago.
-Twang-
The arrow was loosed from the bow, flying between two gourds and becoming lost to the jungle beyond. Volkarosh listened for the telltale thunk of the arrow in wood, or the clang that its head would make against the crystal protrusions of the trees. She listened, but she heard nothing through the muffling jungle din. The arrow was lost. She had missed.
Only briefly deterred, Volkarosh nocked a new arrow to the bow and lifted it again, aiming carefully. Her eyes were keen as she sought her target – the gourds, arranged there for her sake.
-Twang-
This time, the arrow hit, embedding itself within the quivering, but resolute gourd.
Volkarosh let the arm that held the bow fall to her side, considering the arrow briefly before – a decision made up in her mind – she set the bow down on the nearby fletching table and went over to investigate the arrow more closely.
The bow had been difficult for her to draw and fire, more than she had been expecting. That meant, she supposed, that the bow had done exactly has it was intended to do – to keep tension within the wood, ready to loose it in the form of a sharp, deadly arrow.
It had been difficult, but it had also felt so good. Volkarosh wondered if this was what beast tamers felt, when they loosed their animals into battle. It had to be – the thrill of the firing, the deceptive simplicity of the bow, the feeling that it was an extension of the body, capable of dealing death from afar.
It was so elegant.
Volkarosh braced her hand against the gourd and forced the arrow free, trailing the smell of gourd-guts in its wake. However, she thought, twisting the arrow in her hand, her face creased in a deep frown, It did not resonate for me.
Yet she knew, with all the more certainty now, that it would be a ranged weapon for her. She had felt it in that arrow, that sense that this was right – she would strike from afar, while others rushed in.
There was still another weapon to try – Volkarosh reset the targets, brooding over the inadequate nature of a tree stump to simulate living targets. Prey moved, gourds didn't. Human or otherwise, they would be soft, squishy, and evasive... unless they were stalking something else. In her limited experience, she had never seen a prey animal stand still and let itself be killed, and she needed to be ready. For animal or for human prey.
The constancy and stillness of wood was inaccurate, but it would have to do. Once she decided on a weapon, she would have to practice with it and take it out hunting to make sure she knew what she was doing.
So, if not this bow, what of the crossbow? It seemed so clunky, so strange and mechanized amid all the simpler weapons that the weaponsmith Dyakida had allowed her to try. Daggers were, automatically out for Volkarosh – they were too awkward, too few. They were not reliable enough and, once thrown, what then? No, no daggers for her. And no bow.
She hefted the practice crossbow up, nearly staggering under its comparative weight. That was an advantage of a bow – it was lighter than something like this. Easier to set up, too, as she struggled to load it with a bolt. But, once loaded, it stayed put – one point for the crossbow. She could, indeed, aim at her leisure, her finger on the crossbow trigger. It was heavy, but without the burden of pulling back and moderating her strength on the string, she could dedicate all of her effort to aiming.
The crossbow was unwieldy, but already Volkarosh could feel the difference. This weapon was more stable – what it lacked in speed, it made up for, already, in steadiness. What it lacked in ease of holding (her arms were tiring, already) it made up for in ease of use. All it took, indeed, was a moment of aiming, and a strong twitch of her finger, and – with a lucky hit – saw it punch right through the gourd she had aimed for. The gourd split and fell, bursting upon the ground into messy pieces. The bolt stuck in a tree beyond, quivering.
Her arms aching, she set the crossbow down and went over to the bolt. A quick, efficient smile played against her features, briefly making her resemble her mother – that wild woman of grinning fury.
This must be what my mother feels like... she thought wonderingly, the smile still there, but internal once more, After a fight, when she is smiling... She must feel so wild... so free... so...
Satisfied.
Wholly satisfied.
She looked back at the crossbow, a blazing feeling of kinship arching in her chest. It is heavy, she thought, But with practice I will become better at loading it, holding it, and aiming it. Once I get over that... Well, it shouldn't be too hard to master the crossbow. Not with her family to aid her.
She rubbed her protesting arms and turned to return to the Alkidike weaponsmith's workshop to tell her that she had made a decision. The crossbow.
Volkarosh had found her weapon of choice... at last.
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