(Pronunc. Vuhl-Rayn Shee-rohs-neer)

Forename; Vulrâen: Bright edge

Surname; Shirothnir: Blade of Frost (Shir+nir+ross)

"I would flay you for the mere thrill of seeing how the blood lands."

Vulrâen considers himself a hunter of hunters. Never satisfied with mere slaughter, he loves the abstraction and visual stimulation of combat, blood and motion. He rarely turns down a fight.

He has a highly expressed eidetic memory that allows him to relive moments of thrill whenever he desires, making him appear intense, activated and aggressive. He takes great joy in body modification, piercing and tattooing.

All this, despite not being a War-Breed. In contrast to his fascination with violence he retains a need for guardianship over those he deems his to protect. He expresses his love and sometimes submission through providing services. Whether through hunting, preparing food, displays of deference and profound, if deranged, loyalty. His favourite other is Syraeth.

His look offered bewilderment and attentive fixation in equal measure as his pupils dilate and contract amidst the ballet of his thoughts. And so suddenly.
His body heaves with his breath. And finally his lips curl into a grin around his teeth as he offers an airy laugh.
"NNNnnnnnnh..." He twists his neck in his grip.
Syraeth could slice his spine. He could tear his esophagus free. Vulraen's weight settles a little over him and he drags his claws along his waist for purchase.
"I would make you mine...!" He gasps, eyes widening again as he seems to come alive again in an instant.
"To have you like this. Every night!"
His voice becomes progressively airy until it was aught more than a sound of breath.

He still believes, to some degree, in the sanctity of the starwell, though coats his respect in vinegar for the Draihari's banishment from Valurn's shores.