Warlow Old peers into the shimmering basin filled with an unknown liquid. His faded eyes aglow with the reflections they capture, as he scries into the mysterious future. His wrinkled, tattooed face is both warning and allure, signifying the the profound rituals he belongs to; it whispers promises of untold knowledge, of secrets unseen and unheard.
The tattoos are relics of a different era, ancient sigils implanted on his skin with magic-imbued needles by his grandmother, a soothsayer of much renown in their small secluded village. Warlow, born into the mantle of prophecy, carries the burden and the blessing of his inherited future telling ability. Yet, often he ponders the price he paid for this gift, recalling his lonely childhood. The memory of other children avoiding him, their innocent faces clouded with fear, is a wounding that has never fully healed.
As Warlow matured, the visions became stronger, the prophecies more precise. Now, he is the village's guardian, their sage guide venturing into the mists of tomorrow, coming back with tales that shape their very survival. Mornings find him sitting silently in his small secluded cabin on the hill, consumed by the psychic tugs of destiny.
At heart, Warlow is a gentle man, often misunderstood for his remote demeanor. Yet, the stout kinship he holds with his familiar, a mystic raven named Shadow, lays bare the tenderness otherwise concealed. Shadow, in essence, is his only friend and an extension of his spirit, equally uncanny in its perceptive nature.
The inhabitants of the village leaves offerings at his door, tokens of their gratitude or perhaps out of fear. To this, Warlow chuckles softly. If they truly saw him, they'd find an old mage who admires the whispers of the wind, has an infinite love for the stray dogs in the alley, and a soft spot for the daisies by the brook.
Haunted by the specter of loneliness, Warlow cradles a secret desire: a life companion by his side to share his gift and his burden. Yet, he is the village's oracle, a role that carries certain expectations and consequences, hence a marriage in the typical sense has always been out of reach.
Today, Warlow Old, carrying the weight of his wisdom and solitude, stands as a symbol for those seeking answers. Not just in his village, but far off lands as well. His words - potent, piercing, undeniably accurate - are his double-edged weapon. A favorite saying of his is often quoted, "Destiny is a river, it flows where it wills, not where we demand".
Fear though, holds a strange place in Warlow's existence. He fears not the prophecies or his solitude, but the misuse of his predictions. In the wrong hands, knowledge of the future could lead to destruction. He is, in essence, the keeper of a potential time-bomb, able to control its power, but ever pondering the cost of an eventual accidental detonation.