By #2925


By #1306


He's a little morbid and weird.
He loves spiders!

Bought for 80gc
31gc spent customizing

Total spent so far: 111

T3 piebald novus

🌈 https://www.wolvden.com/breed/7544585 Viatorem | T3 grulla piebald novus 👀🌈

Designed and well loved by Maeleeve #41610

By #85217
Bought for 100 gc
Traveling wolf, no RO limit

LORE BELOW ⚠️DO NOT REMOVE ANYTHING ABOVE ⚠️

Tribe: ꧁ ☬ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏᴠᴇʀʟᴏʀᴅꜱ ☬ ꧂
Lore
In the deep recesses of an ancient forest, where the shadows whispered of secrets untold and the trees stood as timeless sentinels, there lived a wolf whose name echoed through the ages—Viatorem. His fur was a striking blend of blueish black and purest white, a stark contrast that mirrored the balance of light and darkness in his immortal soul.
Viatorem was not like other wolves; he was bound to the forest by a mystical gift—or curse—that granted him immortality. Centuries passed, seasons turned, and civilizations rose and fell, yet Viatorem remained unchanged, a silent witness to the passage of time.
Legends spoke of Viatorem's origins, whispered by the elder trees and carried on the wind. Some said he was a guardian spirit, tasked with protecting the ancient forest from those who sought to exploit its power. Others believed he was a wanderer cursed by a powerful sorcerer, forever condemned to roam the earth until the end of days.
Throughout his immortal existence, Viatorem wandered the vast expanse of the forest, his keen eyes seeing beyond the physical realm into the heart of nature itself. He knew every tree, every stream, every hidden glade where the magic of the forest thrived. The creatures of the woods revered him as a wise elder, seeking his counsel in times of hardship and celebrating his presence in times of abundance.


Lore: (BASKET CASES)

In the twilight of a dying day, a lone figure padded softly through the underbrush of a vibrant forest, stained with shades of purple and gold. This traveler was not an ordinary wolf; he was Viatorem, an immortal spirit bound to the earthly realm, cursed—or perhaps blessed—with eternity. As he roamed through the ages, his journey had brought him to myriad packs, each one different and filled with its own lore.

Today, he found himself drawn to a peculiar pack known as the "Basket Cases." The rumors of their eccentric personalities and vibrant gatherings bore enough intrigue to lure him in; he had to see for himself. As he crossed the threshold into their territory, the cacophony of laughter and music enveloped him in a warm embrace.

A gathering was underway in a sun-dappled clearing. Wolves of all hues mingled, sharing stories that sparked sparks of laughter and creativity. Balloons fashioned from leaves bobbed like joyful specters among the trees, and colorful streamers adorned the scenery. It was a celebration of sorts, though Viatorem couldn't quite tell what they were celebrating.

"Hello there!" bellowed a striking pink-ish grey wolf with a daring smirk and mismatched red eyes. "I'm Strychnine Twitch! Join us! We're all about the freaky and the fabulous!" His eyes shimmered with mischief, and his oversized glasses almost seemed to bounce on his nose.

Strychnine guided Viatorem into the fold of the festivities, introducing him to each pack member. "This is Spirale, our master of dance!" he announced, pointing to a tall, quickly spinning wolf. "And here's Doodad and Whatchamacallit, our artisans! They make the best outfits in the realm!"

But it was when Strychnine revealed his own talents that Viatorem felt the stirrings of something new in his long-lived heart. "You must join us in music!" Strychnine declared, leading him over to a wooden stage adorned with vivid flowers that pulsed with life. A guitar—far too large for Strychnine but perfectly sized for Viatorem's unwittingly robust frame—sat waiting.

Music filled the air and Viatorem was swept into a whirlwind of sound. With Strychnine's enthusiastic guidance, he fumbled his way through chords, laughter bubbling between him and the pack as they wove a blend of howls and harmonies beyond anything he had experienced during his endless years. For the first time in centuries, Viatorem felt a connection that transcended his immortal loneliness.

Then there was Spirit Haunt. A striking young wolf with shimmering silver fur, he watched Viatorem with a mixture of admiration and curiosity. Younger than Strychnine, Spirit had a quiet yet fierce spirit that captivated Viatorem's ancient heart. Though less boisterous than her flamboyant packmate, he had an aura of mystery that drew him closer.

"Can you teach me to sing?" Viatorem asked one evening, after the celebrations had dwindled to a gentle hum.

"I can do more than that," Spirit Haunt replied, his eyes sparkling with a playful challenge. "You'll learn to master your voice—and we can create songs that even the stars will remember."

Days turned into weeks, blending seamlessly as Viatorem immersed himself in this enchanting world, shedding the burdens of his immortal past. With Strychnine's flamboyant style, he learned to dress in vibrant colors and exaggerated fashions; he laughed with Doodad who crafted a feathered cloak that billowed behind him like a banner of joy; and beside Spirit, he humbly unearthed the beauty of melody.

As they sang by the fire each night, Viatorem felt the weight of time lift from his shoulders. He harmonized with Spirit, their voices weaving tales that painted the night sky—a story of longing, of adventure, and of timeless love.

The nights spent in the welcoming embrace of the Basket Cases filled Viatorem with a vibrancy he had not felt in eons. He caught himself thinking that perhaps immortality was not just about endless time, but about the fleeting moments of connection that shaped who we are.

And when the time came for Viatorem to leave, the pack gathered under the glow of the moon, their howls echoing against the stars. With Strychnine's strumming echoing in his ears and Spirit's spirit shining bright in his memory, he vowed to return.

As he departed the enchanting realm of the Basket Cases, Viatorem felt an unfamiliar twinge of sadness. He had forged bonds that transcended time, discovering aspects of himself he had forgotten. And with every step, he held tight to the laughter, the creativity, and the music that had filled his heart with life once more.

Stayed: 14 Rollovers

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~