Varre the Unrestrained

ID #10323440

Owned by Kazoo
Bred by Unknown
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This wolf has not rolled over today and will not be able to be traded or gifted until its next rollover.

Level	10

Strength *	89
Speed	102
Agility *	77
Wisdom	47
Smarts	51
Total	366

This wolf cannot be retired right now!

Family

Wardrobe

This wolf has been leading Blood Bane Pack since 2024-10-27 00:30:58.

Currents
Age	4 years 1½ month (Adult)
Sex	Male
Energy
Hunger
HP
Personality	Combative

Breeding Information
Age in Rollovers	99
Pups Bred	15 pups bred
Last Bred	2024-12-03 20:23:59
For Stud	Yes
Stud Price	1 or 250
Items Applied	None!
Pair Bond	None

Looks
Base	Ghost (0.1%)
Base Genetics	Special Light *
Eyes	Red
Skin	Pallid
Nose	Pallid
Claws	White
Mutation	None
Secondary Mutation	None
Carrier Status	Unknown
Variant	Sentinel

Markings
Slot 1	Black Butcher (100% : T1)
Slot 2	Black Smudge (100% : T1)
Slot 3	Gray Undercoat (100% : T1)
Slot 4	White Marbled Unders (100% : T1)
Slot 5	Black Rump (100% : T1)
Slot 6	Black Half Saddle (45% : T0)
Slot 7	Gray Cape (60% : T0)
Slot 8	Red Back Edge Patch (100% : T1)
Slot 9	Black Dilution (100% : T0)
Slot 10	White Underbelly (100% : T0)

Biography

Little stories (more like long stories jfc)
In the heart of a snow-covered spruce forest, where the trees wore shrouds of white and the air crackled with cold, Varre the wolf prowled with a singular purpose. The muffled crunch of snow under his paws was the only sound that broke the winter silence, a rhythmic counterpoint to the thudding of his heart. Varre was fierce, known in his pack for his seriousness and determination. Today, he ventured beyond the familiar bounds of his den—today he sought a deer.

The frigid wind bit through the forest, but Varre was undeterred. His black and gray fur bristled against the chill, and his red eyes sparkled with a steely resolve. The muffled calls of distant animals echoed through the woods, but Varre was focused on one sound alone, the slight rustle of hooves against the snow, the cautious movements of a foraging deer.

Tracking was an art he had mastered over the years, and as he moved deeper into the forest, he became deeply attuned to the signs around him. Broken twigs, crushed foliage, and fresh tracks in the snow painted a vivid picture of his targets movements. He followed the trail, determined and patient, each step imbued with purpose.

As he crept through the underbrush, Varre paused at a clearing. The sun, waning low in the sky, cast an ethereal glow over the landscape. Glimmers of light danced on the surfaces of the snow, illuminating the beauty of the forest that belied the fierce reality of survival. There, just beyond the edge of the clearing, he spotted movement, a solitary doe, nibbling on the remnants of dried grasses peeking through the snow.

His heart raced, a primal instinct surging within him. Varre crouched low, allowing the cool regret of the moment wash over him. Hunting was a necessity, but he never pursued his prey lightly. The doe seemed unaware of her impending fate, lost in her delicate task. Now was the time for strategy.

Circling to the left, Varre calculated the wind direction, ensuring it was in his favor. With each careful step, he became a silent whisper amidst the trees, a shadow gliding through frost and silence. The doe remained blissfully unaware.

As he approached, a nearby branch snapped beneath his weight. The doe's head jerked up, eyes wide with alarm. In that fleeting moment, Varre's instincts kicked in. He surged forward, muscles coiling with strength as he lunged toward her. The world sharpened into focus; every heartbeat was music to his ears, every movement a calculated action.

But chance was not on his side. The doe bounded forward, swift and agile, fleeing into the labyrinth of the trees. Varre's heart sank, but he quickly shook off the moment of despair. He was determined; the hunt wasn't over yet.

Adrenaline surged through him as he pursued her, weaving between the trees and leaping over fallen logs, his breath misting in the frigid air. The chase was arduous, yet exhilarating, and Varre's spirit soared as he dodged and weaved. Finally, it seemed fortune smiled upon him; the doe stumbled in her haste, her foot catching on a hidden root.

With one, final burst of speed, Varre seized the moment. He leaped forward and-success. As the cold enveloped him, triumph kindled deep inside. The struggle was real, but Varre knew he had prevailed. The forest was quiet again, save for the faint sound of the wind whispering through the branches, almost as if it celebrated his victory.

As he stood there, a fierce pride coursed through him. Varre, the determined wolf, had conquered the hunt. In this wild, snow-covered world, survival was no small feat, but today he had carved out his place in the cycle of life, and in doing so, he had reaffirmed the strength that lay within him, a strength forged in the winter's heart.

S3 Subject to rma for black merle patches
link

Art Place (Tw: Blood)