Post by Varlyn Drake on Mar 27, 2007 3:08:17 GMT -5
Name: Varlyn Drake (Varl)
Race: Human
Class: Adventurer
Sub-Class: Technomancer
Age: 19
Height: 6’1”
Weight: 179 lbs.
Hair: Wavy and black, Varl’s hair reaches just above shoulder length.
Eyes: Varl’s eyes are bright green and show every bit of his youth.
Sex: Male
Build: Varl’s body is what you’d expect of someone who was born and raised on a farm. Raised on a healthy diet and tons of exercise working every day, Varl’s body is toned and muscular, though not impeccably defined. All of his muscle definition comes from working on his parent’s farm. He was well-fed, though never overly so, as his family could never really afford to eat too heartily. As such, there is also minimal body fat on the boy’s frame, though again, only as a natural occurrence. Therefore, to look upon Varl, you would see a physically above-average boy, however, the very sight of his muscles would far from blow you away.
Appearance: Varl, as could be assumed from his age, looks rather young. Sharp and smooth features, bright eyes, shiny hair, everything about him reveals his youth to the world. His layered hair reaches almost to his shoulders, unless he decides, for work or for whatever reason, to pull it back, allowing the bangs to fall as they will. On his chin is an unshaved stubble beard. Physically, he has quite a many scars over his body, though none on his face. His bodily scars are not very defined, as most are simply cuts and scrapes from work, though there are more than a few that are from more raucous lines of activity.
Clothing-wise, Varl dresses about as simply as one would expect a farmer’s son to. Simple, casually-fitting pants, supported by a belt that is linked to two hip belts which support a small supply pouch on his right side, and a holster for his knife on the left. When he bothers to wear a top at all, it is usually sleeveless or a tank top. The most outstanding feature of the boy’s clothing style, however, are his two leather arm guards, going from his palms all the way up to his elbows. These articles are the closest thing to armor one will ever see Varl wear, and he rarely ever takes them off, if only for the fact that they’re so blasted hard to re-buckle.
Click for Visual Aid.
Personality: Quick-witted and caustically sarcastic, Varl is definitely someone that takes some time to get used to. Despite the fact that he grew up on a farm, the boy does not act much at all like the country-boy one would expect him to. He likes to talk, and is a big fan of snappy one-liners and quick comebacks. He’s also argumentative. Many times he will play devil’s advocate, just for the sake of argument, and usually just for his own amusement. One thing that should be known about him is that just because he never received an education, does not mean he is stupid. Far from it, in fact. Varl’s intelligence is nowhere near spectacular in any way, but his problem-solving abilities are better than most would expect.
Home Country: South Umberland
History: Varlyn Drake was born on an relatively unknown date, in a relatively unknown province. As far as he’s known, he’s lived under the care of his parents, Kery and Falcyn Ceiphus. He was named, in a fashion, after his father, Falcyn, though he was given the prefix “Varl” instead, which, in an ancient Umberlandic tongue, meant ‘reckless’, making his entire first name read “Reckless One.” Varl was aptly named, for almost as soon as he could walk, the boy was trying to climb, or run, or other such things. He paid little heed to his own safety, simply for the chance to try something new. From then on, it seemed only natural to simply shorten his name to Varl, which he keeps as a nickname to this day. The last name Drake, however, was something his family simply told him to use, and, being a naïve young child, simply accepted that his parents were right, as they always were, and went as Varlyn Drake.
Being the son of a farming family, Varl was helping out around the house as soon as he was capable of cognizant thought. While it began as menial tasks; ‘go fetch this’, ‘go get that,’ ‘bring us water’, as the boy grew, his tasks became more like a regular job. During his off time, as a child, Varl would simply run and play about the land, as there were few other boys his age in the nearby area. The boy loved to explore, and every night of playtime would carelessly venture farther and farther out of their land. His parents merely kept a watchful eye on him, knowing that they had been wise in giving him the name ‘Varlyn’ after all. If the boy wasn’t exploring, however, he was playing with the spare parts the family managed to accumulate in their shed. He was fascinated by machines, and liked to play games with the parts, seeing where each one fit, and how they would work together if they could run.
As the boy grew, however, his tastes and desire for reckless grew with him. Once he was a teenager, his parents deemed him old enough to leave by himself, allowing him to go to the town of Gordovale to peruse the shops. Varl loved these trips, going either alone or with some of boys in the farmsteads closer to his home. Unfortunately for Varl, however, these boys tended to walk on the wrong side of the crowd, and the reckless youth fell right in. He was still a year too young to drink legally in South Umberland at fifteen, however, the other boys were all of age, and would sneak him in to the Gordovale pub. Being the only pub around for quite a ways, one would imagine that this was quite a boisterous place. Once inside, the boys would always get a little too much beer or mead in them, and end up doing something they’d likely regret in the morning. One thing Varlyn always found was that after a few drinks, his tongue became much looser than usual, and he would wind up saying the wrong thing to the wrong person, and before he knew it, he’d instigated quite the bar brawl.
It was through these little outings that Varlyn learned how to fight. He took his share of bruises and came home with all sorts of poorly fabricated false truths to tell his parents. The more he went out, the more he learned, simply from participating and observing those fighting. He learned how to take a punch, how to throw a punch, when to utilize a swift kick, and what makeshift weapons to use during. He learned how to block a beer bottle, how to throw a beer bottle, and, in general, the fine art of bar-room blitzing.
Finally, when the scars began to accumulate a bit too much over the boy’s body, his parents forbade him, at the meager age of sixteen, from going out to the town of Gordovale again. Stuck with nothing to do, Varl found himself back in that old shed again, playing with spare parts.
Varl had, since he was young, felt there was something different about him. A strange force that he could feel in himself that he was sure no one else in the general area, not even his parents, had. He often wondered just what it could have been, but during his punishment, while he was forced to stay at home, that sleeping power seemed to awake within him.
He had just put together a small machine, not much more than a fuse box connected to a light bulb. He knew that if he had the right application of energy, he could make it work. Unfortunately, electricity and other sources of power did not come cheap at all this far out of Shussei, and what little they had gained, the Ceiphus’s were not keen on wasting it on trinkets. Gripping the invention tight in his hand, Varl, in bitter rage at being cooped up, mixed with determination to see this little toy through to the end, cried out in anger, and, to his amazement, the machine lit up. Finally, he had found what that force inside him was.
Varl rarely left the storage room, coming out only to eat and sleep. For a year and a half, the boy would wake up, go to work in the fields, come back, enter the storeroom and test his own power until it was time to eat and go to bed. He would do this every day, and his skill would only improve. He found that not only could he power devices, simply by his own whim, he could create them from will-power alone, too, granted that he had the materials handy. He found that over-exerting himself and powering too many devices at once would leave him exhausted and unable to do much else but sit for an extended period of time. He also found that his ability to create machines and tools was much, much more taxing than simply powering them. That year and a half passed, and from it, Varl emerged, eighteen years of age, and the last, if not the only, technomancer Terra had ever seen.
Now that he was eighteen, however, Varl was ready to leave the farm. He had come of age, he was an adult by South Umberland law, and could do with his life as he wished. His parents blessed him, knowing that he was never meant for the country life anyway. They bade him goodbye, leaving with him enough supplies to last him for a month, and a bit of money, the only actual bit of currency they had, to ensure he would find himself a job.
However, Varl’s recklessness landed him far from having a normal, stable occupation. While he could have easily put his technomancy skills to use creating and fixing machines for the people, Varl simply couldn’t fathom it. It would have been a stable job, yes, but the boy longed for so much more. Living in South Umberland itself was too stifling for him, so he began to adventure. For a year, he traveled about South Umberland, crafting his weapon along the way. He dared venture up to Drakholme, but felt a strange chill from it and decided not to go any further.
Though seemingly just a year of aimless wandering, Varl's adventures did give him one important factor: Knowledge. In his travels, Varl found out firsthand all about the nations of Lucia and Shussei, and what they've done to get where they are, and the impact of their struggle on his own homeland, as well as others. Now nineteen, Varl’s sights are set southward, and he sets out to explore the crumbling continent of Bremelia.
Weapon of Choice: A simple, crude knife that Varl re-constructed to better suit his needs. In the hilt of the blade is a tiny vibrating generator that only activates, causing the blade to vibrate back and forth in a rapid motion to make for a more efficient cut, when Varl courses his magic into it, either by gripping it himself or channeling it through the elastowire. This ‘elastowire’ is another of Varl’s crude inventions. It is a magically channeled steel wire, thin enough to be hard to perceive, that, when Varl channels his inner magic into it, can elongate or shrink, retract or protract to his will. Often, the device is hooked onto the pommel of his blade so that he can throw his knife and easily return it with a mere flick of his wrist, causing the opponent to see only the knife suddenly return as if Varl commanded it with his mind.
Fighting Style: Brawling, plain and simple. The hell-raiser in Varl leaves him with next to no discipline, and in a fight, it shows. In fights, Varl just swings punches and throws an occasional kick, blocking when the need arises, hoping to get inside an opponent’s guard and never let up. Varl will not pull any punches in a fight, either, as he’s had enough scars to prove the dangers or fighting anything less than your best. Despite his straightforward nature, Varl’s smaller size allows him to be more graceful in his brawling than your average muscled thug, so while he will likely not do any fancy dodges or cartwheel kicks, he will chain movements and attacks more fluidly than most brawlers would think to do.
With his knife in hand, Varl becomes even more graceful, preferring to use wide slicing attacks rather than stabs. Despite his sometimes rough-and-tumble nature, Varl prefers not to fully injure, and knows that a knife is a dangerous weapon. As such, unless he is fighting for his life or causes beyond him, he has been known to use shallow cuts and non-fatal slices, hoping to cow his enemy into retreat. This by no means is a reason to take him lightly, however, for he does understand the importance of survival.
Class Description: Technomancy is an art, either lost and forgotten in Bremelian history, considering their legacy of mixing the local ideologies, or perhaps never even discovered until now. Varl, like many Lucians, was born with the gift of magic. However, though he could feel the energy coursing through his veins, he could not utilize it in his own power. However, Varl was also gifted with a mechanically-apt mind, and enjoyed tinkering with various tools on the farm, and playing with scraps that Shussei pretends are worthy trade goods to the backwater Umberlanders. During his tinkering, Varl finally found a use for his magical energy. Not only could he power his creations, making them do whatever he wished, as long as it was within the realm of their schematics, simply by channeling his energy, but also, by channeling a bit more energy over a wider area and for a longer amount of time, he could perform something similar to Alchemy and create complex machines by will alone. Varl’s ability to create, however, was only as long as he had enough materials, already in the state of matter he needed them to be in. Depending on the size, the complexity of the machine in mind, and how far spread out the various parts are, it would take a longer amount of time and a larger depletion of his magic energy.
Strengths: Physically, Varl is a lot tougher than one would expect a boy of his age and body frame to be. With all his work in the fields and brawls around the tavern, Varl’s body has toughened well past the norm. All in all, his muscles are very dense, which adds to his general toughness, and also causes his strikes to do a bit more damage than his size would belie. Varl’s fists have thrown many punches in his life already, and thus his nerves on his fists have been deadened down. This gives him little fear when throwing a punch as to the pain it might cause him, allowing him to throw a full-force punch more often than not. Also, as far as running goes, for short to medium distances, Varl is very fast, as he would often run about his parents’ land when he was younger.
Mentally, Varl is readily able to think on his feet, and his jibing verbal nature can easily frustrate some of the less mentally composed opponents he fights. Also, his mechanical prowess and analytical mind help him to break down fighting styles after a period of time, and also to use objects on hand to assist him in battle, if the need arises.
Weaknesses: For all of his fighting prowess, Varl’s experience has never gone farther than a bar-room brawl. Needless to say, against a highly trained fighter, Varl will have to rely on his quick thinking and his own innate ability rather than the experience and talent of the seasoned fighter. For as fast as he is, Varl is also only moderately quick, only a bit quicker on his feet and movements than an average person, and not exceptionally physically strong at all, thus he can usually be either outmaneuvered or overpowered, and in some dire cases, both.
While he can analyze and understand fighting styles, this does take some time, and only if Varl has adequate room to breathe and fight back. If he is being overwhelmed, however, his mind will be on survival, not on anything else
Also, when Varl uses any of his gadgets (including his weapon), or if he creates one, he has to use his magical energy reserves. While just using his weapon and the elastowire, and maybe one other impromptu gadget, will not use up too much of his reserve, and simply resting is enough to re-attune with the world and regain his depleted magic, prolonged bouts with weapons or gadgets, or too many of them at once will quickly deplete him, leaving him tired and nearly unable to fight.
Notice: Varl is one of the few people native to either of the Umberlands who has any degree of magical aptitude. Also, his last name, Drake, not only does not correspond to his family’s last name of Ceiphus, but also bears a vague resemblance to the name of the fortress separating the two nations of Umberland.
Race: Human
Class: Adventurer
Sub-Class: Technomancer
Age: 19
Height: 6’1”
Weight: 179 lbs.
Hair: Wavy and black, Varl’s hair reaches just above shoulder length.
Eyes: Varl’s eyes are bright green and show every bit of his youth.
Sex: Male
Build: Varl’s body is what you’d expect of someone who was born and raised on a farm. Raised on a healthy diet and tons of exercise working every day, Varl’s body is toned and muscular, though not impeccably defined. All of his muscle definition comes from working on his parent’s farm. He was well-fed, though never overly so, as his family could never really afford to eat too heartily. As such, there is also minimal body fat on the boy’s frame, though again, only as a natural occurrence. Therefore, to look upon Varl, you would see a physically above-average boy, however, the very sight of his muscles would far from blow you away.
Appearance: Varl, as could be assumed from his age, looks rather young. Sharp and smooth features, bright eyes, shiny hair, everything about him reveals his youth to the world. His layered hair reaches almost to his shoulders, unless he decides, for work or for whatever reason, to pull it back, allowing the bangs to fall as they will. On his chin is an unshaved stubble beard. Physically, he has quite a many scars over his body, though none on his face. His bodily scars are not very defined, as most are simply cuts and scrapes from work, though there are more than a few that are from more raucous lines of activity.
Clothing-wise, Varl dresses about as simply as one would expect a farmer’s son to. Simple, casually-fitting pants, supported by a belt that is linked to two hip belts which support a small supply pouch on his right side, and a holster for his knife on the left. When he bothers to wear a top at all, it is usually sleeveless or a tank top. The most outstanding feature of the boy’s clothing style, however, are his two leather arm guards, going from his palms all the way up to his elbows. These articles are the closest thing to armor one will ever see Varl wear, and he rarely ever takes them off, if only for the fact that they’re so blasted hard to re-buckle.
Click for Visual Aid.
Personality: Quick-witted and caustically sarcastic, Varl is definitely someone that takes some time to get used to. Despite the fact that he grew up on a farm, the boy does not act much at all like the country-boy one would expect him to. He likes to talk, and is a big fan of snappy one-liners and quick comebacks. He’s also argumentative. Many times he will play devil’s advocate, just for the sake of argument, and usually just for his own amusement. One thing that should be known about him is that just because he never received an education, does not mean he is stupid. Far from it, in fact. Varl’s intelligence is nowhere near spectacular in any way, but his problem-solving abilities are better than most would expect.
Home Country: South Umberland
History: Varlyn Drake was born on an relatively unknown date, in a relatively unknown province. As far as he’s known, he’s lived under the care of his parents, Kery and Falcyn Ceiphus. He was named, in a fashion, after his father, Falcyn, though he was given the prefix “Varl” instead, which, in an ancient Umberlandic tongue, meant ‘reckless’, making his entire first name read “Reckless One.” Varl was aptly named, for almost as soon as he could walk, the boy was trying to climb, or run, or other such things. He paid little heed to his own safety, simply for the chance to try something new. From then on, it seemed only natural to simply shorten his name to Varl, which he keeps as a nickname to this day. The last name Drake, however, was something his family simply told him to use, and, being a naïve young child, simply accepted that his parents were right, as they always were, and went as Varlyn Drake.
Being the son of a farming family, Varl was helping out around the house as soon as he was capable of cognizant thought. While it began as menial tasks; ‘go fetch this’, ‘go get that,’ ‘bring us water’, as the boy grew, his tasks became more like a regular job. During his off time, as a child, Varl would simply run and play about the land, as there were few other boys his age in the nearby area. The boy loved to explore, and every night of playtime would carelessly venture farther and farther out of their land. His parents merely kept a watchful eye on him, knowing that they had been wise in giving him the name ‘Varlyn’ after all. If the boy wasn’t exploring, however, he was playing with the spare parts the family managed to accumulate in their shed. He was fascinated by machines, and liked to play games with the parts, seeing where each one fit, and how they would work together if they could run.
As the boy grew, however, his tastes and desire for reckless grew with him. Once he was a teenager, his parents deemed him old enough to leave by himself, allowing him to go to the town of Gordovale to peruse the shops. Varl loved these trips, going either alone or with some of boys in the farmsteads closer to his home. Unfortunately for Varl, however, these boys tended to walk on the wrong side of the crowd, and the reckless youth fell right in. He was still a year too young to drink legally in South Umberland at fifteen, however, the other boys were all of age, and would sneak him in to the Gordovale pub. Being the only pub around for quite a ways, one would imagine that this was quite a boisterous place. Once inside, the boys would always get a little too much beer or mead in them, and end up doing something they’d likely regret in the morning. One thing Varlyn always found was that after a few drinks, his tongue became much looser than usual, and he would wind up saying the wrong thing to the wrong person, and before he knew it, he’d instigated quite the bar brawl.
It was through these little outings that Varlyn learned how to fight. He took his share of bruises and came home with all sorts of poorly fabricated false truths to tell his parents. The more he went out, the more he learned, simply from participating and observing those fighting. He learned how to take a punch, how to throw a punch, when to utilize a swift kick, and what makeshift weapons to use during. He learned how to block a beer bottle, how to throw a beer bottle, and, in general, the fine art of bar-room blitzing.
Finally, when the scars began to accumulate a bit too much over the boy’s body, his parents forbade him, at the meager age of sixteen, from going out to the town of Gordovale again. Stuck with nothing to do, Varl found himself back in that old shed again, playing with spare parts.
Varl had, since he was young, felt there was something different about him. A strange force that he could feel in himself that he was sure no one else in the general area, not even his parents, had. He often wondered just what it could have been, but during his punishment, while he was forced to stay at home, that sleeping power seemed to awake within him.
He had just put together a small machine, not much more than a fuse box connected to a light bulb. He knew that if he had the right application of energy, he could make it work. Unfortunately, electricity and other sources of power did not come cheap at all this far out of Shussei, and what little they had gained, the Ceiphus’s were not keen on wasting it on trinkets. Gripping the invention tight in his hand, Varl, in bitter rage at being cooped up, mixed with determination to see this little toy through to the end, cried out in anger, and, to his amazement, the machine lit up. Finally, he had found what that force inside him was.
Varl rarely left the storage room, coming out only to eat and sleep. For a year and a half, the boy would wake up, go to work in the fields, come back, enter the storeroom and test his own power until it was time to eat and go to bed. He would do this every day, and his skill would only improve. He found that not only could he power devices, simply by his own whim, he could create them from will-power alone, too, granted that he had the materials handy. He found that over-exerting himself and powering too many devices at once would leave him exhausted and unable to do much else but sit for an extended period of time. He also found that his ability to create machines and tools was much, much more taxing than simply powering them. That year and a half passed, and from it, Varl emerged, eighteen years of age, and the last, if not the only, technomancer Terra had ever seen.
Now that he was eighteen, however, Varl was ready to leave the farm. He had come of age, he was an adult by South Umberland law, and could do with his life as he wished. His parents blessed him, knowing that he was never meant for the country life anyway. They bade him goodbye, leaving with him enough supplies to last him for a month, and a bit of money, the only actual bit of currency they had, to ensure he would find himself a job.
However, Varl’s recklessness landed him far from having a normal, stable occupation. While he could have easily put his technomancy skills to use creating and fixing machines for the people, Varl simply couldn’t fathom it. It would have been a stable job, yes, but the boy longed for so much more. Living in South Umberland itself was too stifling for him, so he began to adventure. For a year, he traveled about South Umberland, crafting his weapon along the way. He dared venture up to Drakholme, but felt a strange chill from it and decided not to go any further.
Though seemingly just a year of aimless wandering, Varl's adventures did give him one important factor: Knowledge. In his travels, Varl found out firsthand all about the nations of Lucia and Shussei, and what they've done to get where they are, and the impact of their struggle on his own homeland, as well as others. Now nineteen, Varl’s sights are set southward, and he sets out to explore the crumbling continent of Bremelia.
Weapon of Choice: A simple, crude knife that Varl re-constructed to better suit his needs. In the hilt of the blade is a tiny vibrating generator that only activates, causing the blade to vibrate back and forth in a rapid motion to make for a more efficient cut, when Varl courses his magic into it, either by gripping it himself or channeling it through the elastowire. This ‘elastowire’ is another of Varl’s crude inventions. It is a magically channeled steel wire, thin enough to be hard to perceive, that, when Varl channels his inner magic into it, can elongate or shrink, retract or protract to his will. Often, the device is hooked onto the pommel of his blade so that he can throw his knife and easily return it with a mere flick of his wrist, causing the opponent to see only the knife suddenly return as if Varl commanded it with his mind.
Fighting Style: Brawling, plain and simple. The hell-raiser in Varl leaves him with next to no discipline, and in a fight, it shows. In fights, Varl just swings punches and throws an occasional kick, blocking when the need arises, hoping to get inside an opponent’s guard and never let up. Varl will not pull any punches in a fight, either, as he’s had enough scars to prove the dangers or fighting anything less than your best. Despite his straightforward nature, Varl’s smaller size allows him to be more graceful in his brawling than your average muscled thug, so while he will likely not do any fancy dodges or cartwheel kicks, he will chain movements and attacks more fluidly than most brawlers would think to do.
With his knife in hand, Varl becomes even more graceful, preferring to use wide slicing attacks rather than stabs. Despite his sometimes rough-and-tumble nature, Varl prefers not to fully injure, and knows that a knife is a dangerous weapon. As such, unless he is fighting for his life or causes beyond him, he has been known to use shallow cuts and non-fatal slices, hoping to cow his enemy into retreat. This by no means is a reason to take him lightly, however, for he does understand the importance of survival.
Class Description: Technomancy is an art, either lost and forgotten in Bremelian history, considering their legacy of mixing the local ideologies, or perhaps never even discovered until now. Varl, like many Lucians, was born with the gift of magic. However, though he could feel the energy coursing through his veins, he could not utilize it in his own power. However, Varl was also gifted with a mechanically-apt mind, and enjoyed tinkering with various tools on the farm, and playing with scraps that Shussei pretends are worthy trade goods to the backwater Umberlanders. During his tinkering, Varl finally found a use for his magical energy. Not only could he power his creations, making them do whatever he wished, as long as it was within the realm of their schematics, simply by channeling his energy, but also, by channeling a bit more energy over a wider area and for a longer amount of time, he could perform something similar to Alchemy and create complex machines by will alone. Varl’s ability to create, however, was only as long as he had enough materials, already in the state of matter he needed them to be in. Depending on the size, the complexity of the machine in mind, and how far spread out the various parts are, it would take a longer amount of time and a larger depletion of his magic energy.
Strengths: Physically, Varl is a lot tougher than one would expect a boy of his age and body frame to be. With all his work in the fields and brawls around the tavern, Varl’s body has toughened well past the norm. All in all, his muscles are very dense, which adds to his general toughness, and also causes his strikes to do a bit more damage than his size would belie. Varl’s fists have thrown many punches in his life already, and thus his nerves on his fists have been deadened down. This gives him little fear when throwing a punch as to the pain it might cause him, allowing him to throw a full-force punch more often than not. Also, as far as running goes, for short to medium distances, Varl is very fast, as he would often run about his parents’ land when he was younger.
Mentally, Varl is readily able to think on his feet, and his jibing verbal nature can easily frustrate some of the less mentally composed opponents he fights. Also, his mechanical prowess and analytical mind help him to break down fighting styles after a period of time, and also to use objects on hand to assist him in battle, if the need arises.
Weaknesses: For all of his fighting prowess, Varl’s experience has never gone farther than a bar-room brawl. Needless to say, against a highly trained fighter, Varl will have to rely on his quick thinking and his own innate ability rather than the experience and talent of the seasoned fighter. For as fast as he is, Varl is also only moderately quick, only a bit quicker on his feet and movements than an average person, and not exceptionally physically strong at all, thus he can usually be either outmaneuvered or overpowered, and in some dire cases, both.
While he can analyze and understand fighting styles, this does take some time, and only if Varl has adequate room to breathe and fight back. If he is being overwhelmed, however, his mind will be on survival, not on anything else
Also, when Varl uses any of his gadgets (including his weapon), or if he creates one, he has to use his magical energy reserves. While just using his weapon and the elastowire, and maybe one other impromptu gadget, will not use up too much of his reserve, and simply resting is enough to re-attune with the world and regain his depleted magic, prolonged bouts with weapons or gadgets, or too many of them at once will quickly deplete him, leaving him tired and nearly unable to fight.
Notice: Varl is one of the few people native to either of the Umberlands who has any degree of magical aptitude. Also, his last name, Drake, not only does not correspond to his family’s last name of Ceiphus, but also bears a vague resemblance to the name of the fortress separating the two nations of Umberland.
