Profile of Savard

While a stocky specimen, Savard’s appearance is not very easily distinguished by his fur pattern alone. While his body is mostly a light russet color, most of his muzzle and forehead are adorned with white fur, while the insides of his ears and most of his back are a mixture of black and dark grey. He is not one to hide his scars, but he also is not interested in making them stand out. Several are plainly visible, particularly under his chin and below one eye, as well as one running across his left side, and several on his body. Many more scars, however, are made invisible by his medium-length fur. His gait doesn’t hint at it very much, but a severe injury to one of his hind-limbs does leave him a bit prone to having a slight limp whenever he overworks it.

Savard hardly comes across as a wolf that is easy to become friends with. While a lot of wolves out there get by with their cute antics, the kind words they choose to use, and even their attempted displays of self-sacrifice, Savard tends to be quite the opposite, Brief, blunt and to the point with almost everything he says and does, Savard is never one to hide how he really feels about a situation. Exceptions are made, of course, in situations where it is more advantageous to keep one’s mouth shut, a skill he learned long, long ago. After all, life is a lot like a game of cards, and every wolf has their own interests or motives. But when it’s not business, Savard comes across as cold, distant even, almost as if he struggles to make personal connections or friendships. Perhaps he’s developed a habit of doing so, as keeping everybody at a length away from the heart spares him from any physical or emotional distress, should harm come to them. He has, however, become astute at pretending to be friendly, when the interests suit him. If asked, Savard would say that his worldview has changed over the course of his life. While younger, he didn’t see much of an interest in much else but business, that all that mattered was the capital, the status, the power, and anybody or anything that stood in his way was merely an obstacle, nothing more. Given his current circumstances, however, Savard considers the current political climate of one of treacherous opportunity. No, he wishes not to associated with the so-called Vox, nor would he dare to outright support the Crown like the bannerboy they love, but prefers to live in the space between them. Everybody has needs, after all, and he has skills that might be of use to them. But of course… he’s business-oriented, and everything he does with others, he expects something in return. It’s strange through, for although he has honest intentions and In some sense has a code, he is aware of his own past and inclinations, and every deed he does threatens to tear his soul between the current realm of honest work he now resides, and his shady past he sought to leave behind.

Born in Edinburgh’s outskirts, Savard came from a lowly family. His mother, Rose, was the youngest sibling of four, in a long line of medical practitioners, charlatans in the opinions of others. Against her family’s wishes, and at the expense of their support, she wedded a brute by the name of Suder, a towering brute. Even despite his reputation, she loved him, and who was anyone to tell her differently? There was just so much about Suder that she adored. He was strong, he cared for her, he seemed to provide anything she could have ever wanted out of a mate. Of course, the life smuggling, extortion, fraud, gambling, intimidation, and execution was a dangerous one to live, and while at first he was subtle about the things he did, he eventually stopped caring about it, and little by little, his lifestyle consumed the family. It came to the point where while Savard was quite young, the family moved to Castle Stuart, given that a “guild” had promised to “make” Suder. Rose was appalled, but smitten nevertheless. Of course, the relationship was doomed to fail, even if she denied it to herself. Eventually, Suder stopped coming home as often, if ever, leaving Rose to raise Savard and Malachi on her own, practically. Without much support, the area of Castle Stuart they lived in was known to be rough, filled with all sorts of dregs, perfect for a wolf like Suder, but not so much or a family. It wasn’t long before Savard and Malachi fell in with the very same crowd his father ran with. As they had no other opportunities, the brothers soon became willing to work the odd job, if it meant that nobody would bother them. They would steal, bear false witness, harass and intimidate, and as they grew older and gained notoriety in their own right, fought, beat, extorted, and even killed. Why would they do the things they did? Did Savard enjoy threatening an old, blind wolf into reporting a competitor to the Imperial Guards as part of a conspiracy against the royal family? Collecting “insurance” from families no different from his own? Ensuring that certain guards would look the other way when something went down? The money and opportunity was alluring, at first. It even offered him a chance to feel in control of something, giving and getting respect. He felt he could make a name for himself, be somebody. But over time, the thought of everything he was building and a part of becoming legitimate helped him sleep, knowing that one day it could all come crashing down. It just so happened in a particularly troubling way for him. Savard was close with Malachi, but as the older brother, he was the more confident and ambitious one. Savard was quieter, but more of the thinker if anything. Malachi took a job from a friend of a friend, one who was well acquainted with his father. Word was that somebody in Castle Stuart was offering an under-the-table reward to take out a powerful aristocrat with pro-Voxi sympathies. They couldn’t prove it, but they knew it, so in desperation it seemed, they turned to the shadows. A few of the details sounded off to Savard, but despite his protests, Malachi enlisted in it, obliging Savard to support his brother. It was a set-up. A rival gang had floated the idea, and in the carnage—one still talked about by those who witnessed it—Malachi was killed, and Savard left for dead, left to be arrested by Crown officials. Although they assured him he would never leave prison alive, he did a little over a year of prison time. It pays, of course, to have friends who help make evidence and witnesses disappear. But with his brother’s death, and a re-evaluation of the life he lived, Savard felt compelled to make a change. While in prison, Savard came to the realization that deep down, he didn’t like the life he had, and regretted the choices he made. His brother’s death was difficult to get over, even if he didn’t show it. Despite this, he kept his integrity, and despite promises of a more lenient sentence and perhaps preferential treatment, Savard never gave anybody up. He had a knack for staying out of trouble, and of course, being a wolf that knew how to get things for others. He stayed out of trouble for the most part, and being gone as long as he was, the world around him seemed willing to move on. By the time he was released from the prisons, Savard found it hard to catch up. Running with his old crew doing the same jobs no longer appealed to him, not that anything did. Of course, it did not change the fact that the life he had was all he knew. Still, it appeared that with what having happened happening, he found a way out. Savard attempted to use his remaining adulthood years to invest in somewhat honest work. He was no longer an assassin, someone who preyed on the defenseless, but did dealings that were honorable. Tracking down a runaway daughter, ensuring a blind old wolf was not extorted again, maybe even ensuring a real piece of shit wolf got arrested by the Crown. He walks a thin line, however, between loyalty to those from his previous life, and his newer moral convictions, and with each action he takes, he considers whether it is a step towards a good life, or a step back towards the life he seeks to leave behind. Of course, even if he had turned a new leaf, it never meant he turned against anybody. The fear of being labelled as a snitch haunts him in a way, and gives him fear that he may spend the rest of his life looking over his shoulder. But then again, perhaps nobody was sure whose side he was really on, if he was even interested enough to pick.