Arvelis, the Jackal
An everpresent truth resounds within the very core of Arvelis, the Jackal: for every light there must be darkness.
Formed not directly by but in response to Echatonic manifestation, the essence that is housed within the once-Caentoi was there from the moment Accordant Fire was remade. The fundamental laws of Creation must be maintained, even within the realm of Sapience far outside the Eschaton's original design. The shell of Albedi-make that now hosts Incarnate Darkness, a man once called Tepevra, lived a life filled with taking risks, walking into the awaiting maw of danger, and was unafraid to raise his ambitions ever higher.
His is the eye that measures all risks. His is the hand that tilts the scales in favour of the ambitious. Urging His closest to go forth and strain for ever greater heights, it is His followers that seek opportunity at every corner, mold potential to suit their aims and fulfill their goals, and to take risks for the possibilities that lie beyond them.
Empowered by Eschatonic design, the Jackal commands full control of shadow upon the continent. Wielding shadow as its uncontested warden, Arvelis regulates its balance in an effort to maintain Sapience's cohesion, its forbidding murk at His beck and call.
He manifested in the Age of Technology.
His mortal shell is Tepevra, a Caentoi of the Bonro Sands.
He is the warden of Shadow upon Sapience.
He seeks only the ambitious within His ranks.
His power matches that of bygone Elders and ancient forces.
He held Ozeroth, the Firstborn at bay with but a single claw.
He is an Immortal figure of sleek lines and masculine planes, features carved into Divine sharpness and immaculate contours the likes of which His Caentoi lineage has never known. Triangular ears begin to shape His muscular silhouette, they and His entire frame covered in a sleek, ebony-hued coat that enwraps Him like a shadow-wrought second skin. Crisply-shaded eyes of oceanic blue slant subtly toward the Jackal's muzzle, their sclera naught but voids of deepest midnight, further framing each iris into stark relief of twin beacons that cut through the everdark. He holds Himself with a commanding presence, exuding an air of refined, predatory grace and the limitless potential of devastation that resides within His domain. Each motion He makes draws darkness from all directions inward, a king's demand of subservience answered without hesitation. The God's steps part and merge with shadows in equal measure as the gloom yearns to become one with His unknowable penumbra, if only fleetingly.
(hanging from the shoulders) : the white cloak of Yanda Seluno
(tied with a crimson silk belt) : loose-fitting robes of silk-lined charcoal wool