Name: Adrian Allistor
Age: 155
Species: Werewolf
Gender: Male
Human Appearance:
Click
Adrian stands at a strong six feet, and despite their similarities, he seems more terrifying than his brother, Felix. Few have seen him smile and he typically holds a slight slouch and a scowl, leaving him with an air of brooding. This isn’t to mention that he appears more physically strong than his brother, and rightly so. His hair is slightly lighter and there is little in his voice that shows any form of sympathy when speaking to others.
Beast Appearance:
Click
Like his twin, Adrian is a pure-bred werewolf with two lycanthropic parents. While his brother is an intellectual leader, Adrian tends to take what he desires by force. This shows in his stature as a wolf, which is menacingly large, his muscles seem to almost ripple as he moves. He is known as one of the best hunters and fighters of the pack due to his pure physical ability.
Personality: The werewolf is known for his no-nonsense attitude and quite, sulking nature. Despite Felix being the more diplomatic of the two brothers, Adrian is still quite skilled at noticing fallacy or falsity in the words of others. While lacking in a take-charge attitude, he has a short temper and very little patience with others. However, Felix has chosen him as his right-hand man not only because they are brothers but also because Adrian has a way of keeping order simply by appearing as an enforcer, which is not to mention his keen eye for lies.
Brief History: Adrian is very similar to Felix in that they were born in the same year, on the same day, to the same parents. They grew up in similar situations and Adrian has always appeared as the more protective of the two. While Felix could make a name for himself and was even the cause of them being able to get into the most respected pack of their species, Adrian was happy to follow his brother anywhere for the sole purpose of keeping him alive and well. The lycan has never seen himself as an older brother or a servant to Felix, but more finds his position as a comfortable niche where he can work to the best of his ability. He has always been a fighter and was more than fine with becoming Felix’s second, allowing him to keep a closer eye on his sibling.
Name: Felix Allistor
Age: 155
Species: Werewolf
Gender: Male
Human Appearance:
Click
Felix has darker, shorter hair than his brother, Adrian, but he appears with an equal confidence. He stands at a firm five feet and eleven inches and has a diplomatic appeal to him. Not only is his posture refined and proper, but Felix has a similar manner of speech and a charismatic smile.
Beast Appearance:
Click
Being a pure-bred werewolf, that is to say Felix was born a lycan and has been for his whole life, gives him an upper-hand in the world. He is faster, stronger, and larger than common wolves, but his frenzies are also more dangerous. Not to mention, his bloodlust and hunting instincts kick in far more easily with less stimulus, which can often prove a risk to himself if not kept under proper control. He is formidable in size and has some fighting ability, making him an intimidating presence.
Personality: Felix is diplomatic above all else, his record of being able to diffuse situations precedes him often. Inside his pack, his region, and over his entire species he has always had a way of carrying a peaceful air about him. He was a natural-born leader and there was no contest when his predecessor chose him to take the second seat of the delegation of the Council of Shadows. He is charismatic and friendly, loved even by the other spokespeople of the other species of the Council.
Brief History: The wolf was born to two werewolves along with his nearly-identical brother, Adrian. Their parents were growing in years upon the boys’ births and have been dead for quite a while now. They were inducted into the highest pack of their species at a surprisingly young age – though it was likely more that Felix was accepted and Adrian was simply brought along as his brother. Felix quickly showed himself to be adaptive, intelligent, and in-control. He was named as one of the youngest werewolf delegates in the history of the Council of Shadows, taking the seat beside his Alpha. The older werewolf would retire some decades later and, while Felix was considered the more capable brother, Adrian would be set to take the other space. Their complementary attributes would have allowed them to work well together in the delegation and perhaps further strengthen the council’s Golden Age, even in their youth.
Age: 155
Species: Werewolf
Gender: Male
Human Appearance:
Click
Adrian stands at a strong six feet, and despite their similarities, he seems more terrifying than his brother, Felix. Few have seen him smile and he typically holds a slight slouch and a scowl, leaving him with an air of brooding. This isn’t to mention that he appears more physically strong than his brother, and rightly so. His hair is slightly lighter and there is little in his voice that shows any form of sympathy when speaking to others.
Beast Appearance:
Click
Like his twin, Adrian is a pure-bred werewolf with two lycanthropic parents. While his brother is an intellectual leader, Adrian tends to take what he desires by force. This shows in his stature as a wolf, which is menacingly large, his muscles seem to almost ripple as he moves. He is known as one of the best hunters and fighters of the pack due to his pure physical ability.
Personality: The werewolf is known for his no-nonsense attitude and quite, sulking nature. Despite Felix being the more diplomatic of the two brothers, Adrian is still quite skilled at noticing fallacy or falsity in the words of others. While lacking in a take-charge attitude, he has a short temper and very little patience with others. However, Felix has chosen him as his right-hand man not only because they are brothers but also because Adrian has a way of keeping order simply by appearing as an enforcer, which is not to mention his keen eye for lies.
Brief History: Adrian is very similar to Felix in that they were born in the same year, on the same day, to the same parents. They grew up in similar situations and Adrian has always appeared as the more protective of the two. While Felix could make a name for himself and was even the cause of them being able to get into the most respected pack of their species, Adrian was happy to follow his brother anywhere for the sole purpose of keeping him alive and well. The lycan has never seen himself as an older brother or a servant to Felix, but more finds his position as a comfortable niche where he can work to the best of his ability. He has always been a fighter and was more than fine with becoming Felix’s second, allowing him to keep a closer eye on his sibling.
Name: Felix Allistor
Age: 155
Species: Werewolf
Gender: Male
Human Appearance:
Click
Felix has darker, shorter hair than his brother, Adrian, but he appears with an equal confidence. He stands at a firm five feet and eleven inches and has a diplomatic appeal to him. Not only is his posture refined and proper, but Felix has a similar manner of speech and a charismatic smile.
Beast Appearance:
Click
Being a pure-bred werewolf, that is to say Felix was born a lycan and has been for his whole life, gives him an upper-hand in the world. He is faster, stronger, and larger than common wolves, but his frenzies are also more dangerous. Not to mention, his bloodlust and hunting instincts kick in far more easily with less stimulus, which can often prove a risk to himself if not kept under proper control. He is formidable in size and has some fighting ability, making him an intimidating presence.
Personality: Felix is diplomatic above all else, his record of being able to diffuse situations precedes him often. Inside his pack, his region, and over his entire species he has always had a way of carrying a peaceful air about him. He was a natural-born leader and there was no contest when his predecessor chose him to take the second seat of the delegation of the Council of Shadows. He is charismatic and friendly, loved even by the other spokespeople of the other species of the Council.
Brief History: The wolf was born to two werewolves along with his nearly-identical brother, Adrian. Their parents were growing in years upon the boys’ births and have been dead for quite a while now. They were inducted into the highest pack of their species at a surprisingly young age – though it was likely more that Felix was accepted and Adrian was simply brought along as his brother. Felix quickly showed himself to be adaptive, intelligent, and in-control. He was named as one of the youngest werewolf delegates in the history of the Council of Shadows, taking the seat beside his Alpha. The older werewolf would retire some decades later and, while Felix was considered the more capable brother, Adrian would be set to take the other space. Their complementary attributes would have allowed them to work well together in the delegation and perhaps further strengthen the council’s Golden Age, even in their youth.
OP
Name: Abigail Marx (Abby)
Age: 85 (Changed at 21)
Species: Werewolf
Gender: Female
Human Appearance:
Standing 5'6, Abby's body is built for fighting and running long distances, her muscles lean and sinewy and yet defined and ready for expression at the slightest movement. Her dark chocolate hair is long and often times allowed to flow free around her torso. She wears no makeup and cares not for things that most women would, finding herself most happy in beast form as she runs the edge of the world and enjoys all that lives and breaths around her. She has a long scar that runs down her back from a hunter attack that occurred years ago during the great purge of 1800 and has multiple piercings and tattoos. She is the essence of free spirit in her appearance and persona.
Beast Appearance:
Personality: Abby is warm and welcoming, a bit of a prankster, but someone filled with joy at another chance to live. She welcomes new members into their pack and plays mother far too often to the members and their families. She is quite withdrawn in terms of suitors, and would rather spend her time and focus on betterment and protection of the pack. She's loyal and often found listening rather than speaking, her own ideas being offered to the collective good instead of individualized recognition.
Brief History: Abigail was born the daughter of a poor farmer, her mother dying in childbirth with her and leaving her to help the family make ends meet as the only girl amongst eight brothers. She was the youngest and yet grew up the quickest, her body nothing more than skin and bones because of the lack of food and her father's willingness to feed the boys first. They would protect the family and she would die if needed to ensure the betterment of her brothers. Never making friends or having childhood moments left her broken and sickly most days, the plague of 1766 attacking her with vengeance and leaving her with deteriorating health and ashen skin. Because of her condition, her father had two of her brother's take her to the forest to leave her to die, only to have the younger of the two promise to return for her that night, but that chance never came.
As she lay dying in the forest a large wolf attacked her in her weaken state and she welcomed the warm reprieve of death only to have her last memory be of her being dragged off by the large black creature. Days later she awoke with a new body and a different life, her skin pure and replenished, her muscles reformed and health restored. A curse as it was meant turned into a new life for her, one that she was grateful for every moment after. She joined the Scotland pack with her mate just before the great purge of 1800 and in a moment of attack chose to protect Felix Allistor - the future of their pack instead of her beloved. She lost her mate, but made the conscious decision then to never look back, quickly moving her up to the second in charge with the most recent Alpha.
Age: 85 (Changed at 21)
Species: Werewolf
Gender: Female
Human Appearance:
Standing 5'6, Abby's body is built for fighting and running long distances, her muscles lean and sinewy and yet defined and ready for expression at the slightest movement. Her dark chocolate hair is long and often times allowed to flow free around her torso. She wears no makeup and cares not for things that most women would, finding herself most happy in beast form as she runs the edge of the world and enjoys all that lives and breaths around her. She has a long scar that runs down her back from a hunter attack that occurred years ago during the great purge of 1800 and has multiple piercings and tattoos. She is the essence of free spirit in her appearance and persona.
Beast Appearance:
Personality: Abby is warm and welcoming, a bit of a prankster, but someone filled with joy at another chance to live. She welcomes new members into their pack and plays mother far too often to the members and their families. She is quite withdrawn in terms of suitors, and would rather spend her time and focus on betterment and protection of the pack. She's loyal and often found listening rather than speaking, her own ideas being offered to the collective good instead of individualized recognition.
Brief History: Abigail was born the daughter of a poor farmer, her mother dying in childbirth with her and leaving her to help the family make ends meet as the only girl amongst eight brothers. She was the youngest and yet grew up the quickest, her body nothing more than skin and bones because of the lack of food and her father's willingness to feed the boys first. They would protect the family and she would die if needed to ensure the betterment of her brothers. Never making friends or having childhood moments left her broken and sickly most days, the plague of 1766 attacking her with vengeance and leaving her with deteriorating health and ashen skin. Because of her condition, her father had two of her brother's take her to the forest to leave her to die, only to have the younger of the two promise to return for her that night, but that chance never came.
As she lay dying in the forest a large wolf attacked her in her weaken state and she welcomed the warm reprieve of death only to have her last memory be of her being dragged off by the large black creature. Days later she awoke with a new body and a different life, her skin pure and replenished, her muscles reformed and health restored. A curse as it was meant turned into a new life for her, one that she was grateful for every moment after. She joined the Scotland pack with her mate just before the great purge of 1800 and in a moment of attack chose to protect Felix Allistor - the future of their pack instead of her beloved. She lost her mate, but made the conscious decision then to never look back, quickly moving her up to the second in charge with the most recent Alpha.
DotCom probably sarcastic
Member
Seen
4 yrs ago
Name: Sophie Joyeaux | Age: 101 | Species: Werewolf | Gender: Female
Appearance:
Lycanthropy turned what was once a rather stout and homely girl into a furry little bullet that packs a punch. Standing at just 5', Sophie's height is balanced (or counteracted, depending on how you want to look at things) by a surprisingly voluptuous body for a werewolf. She is nowhere near as lithe or wiry as most of her brethren, but she is strong for her size, and her diminutive stature makes her quick and agile. Her eyes are the same color as the streaks of violet that appear to color her hair in a certain light. Siad hair was once thin and ratty, platinum blonde and prone to unsightly matting, but after being bitten, it took on the same snow white shade as her fur. All of it is nearly untamable as Sophie herself.
Beast Appearance
Pretty Photo Credit
Personality
Ask, and Sophie will gladly tell you she's survived this long because of luck and a healthy dose of charm. It isn't that Sophie is stupid, quite. She isn't, and has never been. It's only that she's very easily excitable, far too trusting, and a bit naive. She's also quite impatient and more reckless than anyone with as many teeth and claws as she has should be. All of this has amounted to getting into trouble at every turn, including the trouble that has landed her in the realm of the semi-immortal.
Even so, she is kind, loyal, and courageous (the best way of saying foolhardy anyone can bestow on her), and would gladly give the shirt off her back to anyone who could stand to talk to her for more than a few moments before becoming overwhelmed.
History
Sophie was born in Paris, France, just a few hours before the signing of the Treaty of Seville. Her father, an English-born politician, moved his family to Great Britain just two years later, as an ambassador of sorts.
Sophie's life was neither blessed nor difficult, neither outstanding, nor plain. It was, however, almost soul-crushingly boring, at least to a girl who was found more frequently being scolded by her mother and older sisters for having torn another hole in her petticoats, or eating entirely too much, than, say, singing or dancing. She was fourteen when her father died, and her mother decided to move them all to the young Americas, setting out with Sophie's elder sisters, leaving young Sophie behind with a British governess and her ten-year-old brother, Jacques.
Two nights before they were meant to have joined their family by way of the Pacific, Jacques got cold feet and ran off on his own in the middle of the night. Sophie, always up for an adventure, chased after him in slippers and a nightgown. She had just decided to take a short cut through the frosted wood outside the village in which they were living, when a very large dog-thing ran up to greet her. If it ever occurred to Sophie to be frightened, she did not have the time.
When she woke again half a week later, she didn't take the time to grieve, either. It would be wrong to say Sophie was fearless. It would be fairer to say she was forever finding silver linings, and was more than delighted with a new and exciting life, though she quite grew to miss her family, as well.
Constant wandering found her joining the Scotland pack fifteen years after the turn of the century. A bone-deep charisma, inherent loyalty, luck, and a willingness to try virtually anything once advanced her quickly through the ranks, though her own fear of responsibility has kept her from attaining anything near Alpha ranking.
Dark Eternity The Lone Wolf Knight
Member
Seen
5 yrs ago
Name: Fenris Greyback
Age: Unknown, presumably reaching 300
Species: Werewolf,
Gender: Male
Human Appearance:
Countless scars are scattered across Fenris' figure. His back is painted with the remains of clawmarks and whips. One eye was slashed, though the sight slowly returned to it. The most prominent scar is a massive spot on the throat, rendering the man's voice almost inaudible, if he does not raise his voice too far. As in clothing, Fenris keeps making himself fur coats from his natural prey. Anything else about his body is formed by nature. A natural skin tone formed by the summers of the Scandinavian lands, long hair that is crudely cut to not grow further than his neck, along with a short beard.
Beast Appearance:
Personality:
As a man formed by his beastly curse, Fenris remains rather short tempered and with low social traits. His brute strength overpowers his rational thought too fast, creating a very brutal image of the man. There is not much else to be seen or heard of the man. He takes what he wants and ever so often speaks what he thinks. He also has a slight distrust towards Demons and Vampires, for the same reason he hates himself...
Brief History:
As the son of a hunter, Fenris learned the ways of survival amidst the cold desert of Scandinavia. For a hunter in such a harsh environment, it was take what you need and leave nothing to rot. Rabbits were three days nourishment. It all supported the survival of the people of the village. Sometimes, they would defend the village from bandits. At these moments, everything the bandits owned weren't wasted. Their weapons were melted down to make new tools. Their clothes were fitted for the farmers.
Often enough, hunting lead to meeting bandits as well. During winter, Fenris got rid of his tracks and often hid in the snow when he noticed someone unknown approaching. The problems were the summers, where snow would either be too flat to cover oneself, or it would have melted away. Such a summer brought up the demise of Fenris human life and the life of his village. Bandits have found him on the way back to the village, but left him running. He lead them straight to the village without him knowing. The night after, a full moon, was a true bloodbath. Wolves attack the village, but they were more fierce and even more stronger than one.
At day, the village was burned down, the villagers killed besides a few, and those were given a curse greater than death. For a long time, they were treated as slaves, fed only the smallest bits of meat and beaten. Fenris was the only one that survived the ordeals, only to be given a ritual that these werewolves gave to newcomers.
The werewolves returned to their huts inside a forest. They celebrated with a large meal, which was a massive feast of wolf meat and blood for Fenris. As the night was coming closer, the first lycans began to change, while Fenris was bound to a cross on the ground. Then, he was fed more blood, but this time the werewolves were donating the blood. Staring at the full moon, Fenris felt the curse gnaw at his body, changing it in grotesque forms. Even for a werewolf, Fenris' grew into a monster, taller and stronger.
With the thirst for flesh and revenge still boiling inside his guts, Fenris broke free and fought the bandits. During the fighting, he took large beatings from many of the lycans, the Alpha being clearly overpowering them all. In the fight against him, Fenris lost his eye, giving sight to the scar what it is nowadays. Feeling defeat crawling closer, he fled.
For a while, Fenris roamed the forests of lower Scandinavia, his curse leaving him to the sight of a werewolf. He only learned slowly how to become human again.
Once, Fenris met fellow werewolves. Little did he remember the remains of the bandit pack that once cursed him into this state. He traveled months with them, being sort of an Alpha for the group. Together, they hunted within the forests, raided merchant carriages and even attacked villages at full moon.
One such raids was leading the werewolf pack to a village with demons living there. It was too late for Fenris to draw back, as a group of demons advanced on him to defend the village, the rest of the pack leaving him behind as an act of revenge for Fenris' slaughter amongst the bandits. During the fight against the demons, he met strength against power with an old demon, who pulled out Fenris' throat and tossed him into a river. It was to Fenris' strength and ways of survival that made him stay alive.
Seeing there was nothing to hold the Greyback in place, little alone the fear of getting hunted by the demons, Fenris travelled across the lands of Europe, only to find himself on a ship to England in the late 1790s. Since then, he kept hunting in the land, finding himself on the edges of London ever so often to drag a helpless person into the night.
Age: Unknown, presumably reaching 300
Species: Werewolf,
Gender: Male
Human Appearance:
Countless scars are scattered across Fenris' figure. His back is painted with the remains of clawmarks and whips. One eye was slashed, though the sight slowly returned to it. The most prominent scar is a massive spot on the throat, rendering the man's voice almost inaudible, if he does not raise his voice too far. As in clothing, Fenris keeps making himself fur coats from his natural prey. Anything else about his body is formed by nature. A natural skin tone formed by the summers of the Scandinavian lands, long hair that is crudely cut to not grow further than his neck, along with a short beard.
Beast Appearance:
Personality:
As a man formed by his beastly curse, Fenris remains rather short tempered and with low social traits. His brute strength overpowers his rational thought too fast, creating a very brutal image of the man. There is not much else to be seen or heard of the man. He takes what he wants and ever so often speaks what he thinks. He also has a slight distrust towards Demons and Vampires, for the same reason he hates himself...
Brief History:
Born as the son of a very strong warrior of a village somewhere in the white deserts of the northern Scandinavia, Fenris learned that survival was the only thing that mattered. To achieve survival, one must become stronger than nature and outfight any hindrance. Take what you need and leave nothing to rot. These were the teachings of his father, until Fenris came off age to fight amongst the warriors. They charged into battle many times, slaughtered and marauded everything and everyone. This was the way of their tribe.
Until one moonlit night, Fenris and his tribe was surviving, living and prospering like their fathers and their grandfathers did. This moonlit night was the attack of another tribe. They prayed to false gods, those that would live with ordinary animals amongst the woods, or between humans as a fake shade, like the tale of the wolf hiding within a sheep's pelt amongst the rest of the flock. This tribe attacked with wolves far greater than any man or beast could stand. The bloodbath lasted the whole night, leaving the beasts return to human form with the first spark of daylight. To Fenris tiring body, this meant victory in defeat. Too many men were slaughtered in the night and his tribe could no longer defend themselves. He fell to his knees and accepted a death on the battlefield.
But no death, no slavery was given to the man, other than what made him the fearsome beast he is now. The tribe brought the man into their lands, where they fed him a whole month with wolf meat and nothing to drink. Only Fenris' strength kept him alive throughout these days when he was treated like the flock of animals the villagers kept with them. And then there was the next full moon.
The day before, they traveled to a forest not too far from the village. In it's center, there was a glade with a stone altar, as crude as nature could form it. Bound to it, Fenris had to endure a rite of the most grotesque forms. Blood of wolves and men alike was sprayed across Fenris' body, while he was fed once more with the flesh of the howling creatures. Only this time, the full moon stirred something within him. The rite, mixed with the blood of werewolves, cursed Fenris to join their ranks and become something much stronger. His body twisted and formed a werewolf, though it kept growing to stand higher than any other lycan.
Driven by the beast, Fenris broke free and slaughtered the tribe, leaving none alive and himself forever bound to the figure of a wolf. After a long time, he learned to form a human body. To that point, it was only a treat for the beast, since he had no more business with the humans. He was still surviving. This was all he required.
Once, he met fellow werewolves, like the ones that defeated him before his curse. He traveled with them for a while, until he noticed the pack being lead by a Demon. A fight broke loose, in which the Demon pulled Fenris' throat out and left him to die, but the man's strengths kept him alive once more, though beaten to a miserable, wounded dog, living amidst the woods.
Other, more recent events with hunters, gave the man a new reason to stand with his kin and others alike. Since then, he attends the meetings of the Council, though never aligned himself with any pack, nor did he ever raise his beasty voice.
Until one moonlit night, Fenris and his tribe was surviving, living and prospering like their fathers and their grandfathers did. This moonlit night was the attack of another tribe. They prayed to false gods, those that would live with ordinary animals amongst the woods, or between humans as a fake shade, like the tale of the wolf hiding within a sheep's pelt amongst the rest of the flock. This tribe attacked with wolves far greater than any man or beast could stand. The bloodbath lasted the whole night, leaving the beasts return to human form with the first spark of daylight. To Fenris tiring body, this meant victory in defeat. Too many men were slaughtered in the night and his tribe could no longer defend themselves. He fell to his knees and accepted a death on the battlefield.
But no death, no slavery was given to the man, other than what made him the fearsome beast he is now. The tribe brought the man into their lands, where they fed him a whole month with wolf meat and nothing to drink. Only Fenris' strength kept him alive throughout these days when he was treated like the flock of animals the villagers kept with them. And then there was the next full moon.
The day before, they traveled to a forest not too far from the village. In it's center, there was a glade with a stone altar, as crude as nature could form it. Bound to it, Fenris had to endure a rite of the most grotesque forms. Blood of wolves and men alike was sprayed across Fenris' body, while he was fed once more with the flesh of the howling creatures. Only this time, the full moon stirred something within him. The rite, mixed with the blood of werewolves, cursed Fenris to join their ranks and become something much stronger. His body twisted and formed a werewolf, though it kept growing to stand higher than any other lycan.
Driven by the beast, Fenris broke free and slaughtered the tribe, leaving none alive and himself forever bound to the figure of a wolf. After a long time, he learned to form a human body. To that point, it was only a treat for the beast, since he had no more business with the humans. He was still surviving. This was all he required.
Once, he met fellow werewolves, like the ones that defeated him before his curse. He traveled with them for a while, until he noticed the pack being lead by a Demon. A fight broke loose, in which the Demon pulled Fenris' throat out and left him to die, but the man's strengths kept him alive once more, though beaten to a miserable, wounded dog, living amidst the woods.
Other, more recent events with hunters, gave the man a new reason to stand with his kin and others alike. Since then, he attends the meetings of the Council, though never aligned himself with any pack, nor did he ever raise his beasty voice.
As the son of a hunter, Fenris learned the ways of survival amidst the cold desert of Scandinavia. For a hunter in such a harsh environment, it was take what you need and leave nothing to rot. Rabbits were three days nourishment. It all supported the survival of the people of the village. Sometimes, they would defend the village from bandits. At these moments, everything the bandits owned weren't wasted. Their weapons were melted down to make new tools. Their clothes were fitted for the farmers.
Often enough, hunting lead to meeting bandits as well. During winter, Fenris got rid of his tracks and often hid in the snow when he noticed someone unknown approaching. The problems were the summers, where snow would either be too flat to cover oneself, or it would have melted away. Such a summer brought up the demise of Fenris human life and the life of his village. Bandits have found him on the way back to the village, but left him running. He lead them straight to the village without him knowing. The night after, a full moon, was a true bloodbath. Wolves attack the village, but they were more fierce and even more stronger than one.
At day, the village was burned down, the villagers killed besides a few, and those were given a curse greater than death. For a long time, they were treated as slaves, fed only the smallest bits of meat and beaten. Fenris was the only one that survived the ordeals, only to be given a ritual that these werewolves gave to newcomers.
The werewolves returned to their huts inside a forest. They celebrated with a large meal, which was a massive feast of wolf meat and blood for Fenris. As the night was coming closer, the first lycans began to change, while Fenris was bound to a cross on the ground. Then, he was fed more blood, but this time the werewolves were donating the blood. Staring at the full moon, Fenris felt the curse gnaw at his body, changing it in grotesque forms. Even for a werewolf, Fenris' grew into a monster, taller and stronger.
With the thirst for flesh and revenge still boiling inside his guts, Fenris broke free and fought the bandits. During the fighting, he took large beatings from many of the lycans, the Alpha being clearly overpowering them all. In the fight against him, Fenris lost his eye, giving sight to the scar what it is nowadays. Feeling defeat crawling closer, he fled.
For a while, Fenris roamed the forests of lower Scandinavia, his curse leaving him to the sight of a werewolf. He only learned slowly how to become human again.
Once, Fenris met fellow werewolves. Little did he remember the remains of the bandit pack that once cursed him into this state. He traveled months with them, being sort of an Alpha for the group. Together, they hunted within the forests, raided merchant carriages and even attacked villages at full moon.
One such raids was leading the werewolf pack to a village with demons living there. It was too late for Fenris to draw back, as a group of demons advanced on him to defend the village, the rest of the pack leaving him behind as an act of revenge for Fenris' slaughter amongst the bandits. During the fight against the demons, he met strength against power with an old demon, who pulled out Fenris' throat and tossed him into a river. It was to Fenris' strength and ways of survival that made him stay alive.
Seeing there was nothing to hold the Greyback in place, little alone the fear of getting hunted by the demons, Fenris travelled across the lands of Europe, only to find himself on a ship to England in the late 1790s. Since then, he kept hunting in the land, finding himself on the edges of London ever so often to drag a helpless person into the night.
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