Fenris Player: Drake ValentineAge:
Frostfall 30th, 1633Gender:
Crimson Blades Rank:
Present leader of the Crimson BladesVital Statistics:
Base Form: Average height of 5’9”, body toned and muscular with various visible scars. Wild ebony locks of hair run down his shoulder blades, eyes of a piercing blue meet anyone’s gaze with intent of intimidation. No hints of jewelry, below the belt he is well accommodated and blessed with a length of twelve inches and girth of six.
Half Form: His body is larger and bulkier with muscular husk. He stands at a rather impressive height of 8’0”. Thick ebony hair shrouds his body, the texture a bit softer than it appears on contact. He has a few markings of stripes across his frame. His shaft also is much larger, pink and thick standing erect at sixteen inches with a girth of nine inches.
Full Form: A beast like any other of his former tribe, he stands at a towering height of little over 11”. His fur is sharper and more bristle around his athletic, monstrous form. Markings are still somewhat visible upon his being. His size below is also monstrous, length well above twenty inches, shaft more animalistic and canine, his girth a good twelve or so inches. Personality:
Fenris is a jack in the box, his character is often misunderstood by those centered around him. He is a man of many faces, but his true persona is much darker than what he tends to let others on in believing. He is a vengeful man with one goal set in mind, the punishment of those responsible for the destruction of his clan, enslavement and killing of his people. He does not look beyond wars past, peace is a fragile thing to him that he seeks to abolish completely over time. The enlistment and takeover of the Crimson Blades has been a godsend opportunity to him. The face he puts on is that of a loyal servant to the crown, a simple man carrying the torch of the fallen former leader of the mercenary guild. He isn’t afraid to bloody his hands for justice, but his sense is of a stricter variety that could be taken for ‘evil,’ despite his ‘noble’ goals. Despite his young age, he is wise to know that he may not be so easily trusted by those united under the King’s rule. He is, after all, and unknown and youthful face presently leading a well known unit regarded for their dangerous jobs and other expeditions they take. He is positive many may be quick to mistake or judge him as a ‘boy’ of the shadow of the ‘man’ who lead the Crimson Blades in the past. History:
1650, the fall of the Beast Masters. They would never submit, they had no desire as a warrior tribe to unite with those of other clans. They were always the distant lot, the regarded ‘savage’ lot, full of ‘primitives’ and other brutes who possessed surprisingly nothing of value, beyond their rather combat adaptability and the monstrous forms that they could shift into. Their lack of cooperation would pose a threat to the ideal of peace and their savagery would also lead to further problems down the line. The clan needed to be abolished, before they may ever become or pose a capable threat to the other factions.
Fenris was only seventeen at the time, him and several others before him were separated, too young to partake in battle and told to go somewhere safe should the worse come to pass. He on the contrary always believed in his clan, always expected them to be the strongest, that other petty factions had to unite just to stand a chance. Unfortunately, with the lack of technological advancement, the group was quickly subdued and crushed despite the dangerous forms they possessed. They still left an impact on the battlefield, a reminder that even savage beasts can be frightening when enraged.
Survivors scattered, many being captured, others being killed and there were the few that escaped. Fenris fell into the latter, managing to elude any would be hunters. A despicable thing to his own pride, taking the flight before fight route, but he was not fully recognized as a ‘warrior,’ never taking the rite of passage into that life. Another year, another year perhaps he would have been on that battlefield. Another year, he may of even been killed or enslaved, but not of that day.
Instead, he inevitably found himself lost in the ‘real’ world. Never before adventuring further than the deep forests of his homeland, he was unfamiliar with life beyond his general sparring and foraging. The wild youth had created quite the ruckus when boldly rummaging through some supplies of a strange group of men and women, people he did not recall seeing on the battlefield, but one may never know of their involvement. He had created quite the show as well when approached by the older leader, a gruff and large man whom was easily respected and highly regarded by his comrades. While they made their own calls of what to do with him and while he was rudely grabbed, instead of backing down he struck the man to know him off.
The alarm this cause, weapons being drawn, but the youth was not killed. A bold move, the leader saw it, a ‘boy’ brash enough to face danger head on instead of cowering or running away. It may have been stupid, but sometimes bravado itself came along with idiocy. Even so, to take on a fighting stance meant that the young man was prepared for anything to happen, even while unarmed and surrounded. Fenris did not shift, no, the age of shifting was for adults, for warriors, another reason he did not come to the rite of passage, another reason that he may have been saved. Should they had known otherwise, well, things would surely be different.
Something he would in time find out, he spent years within their stay, easily surprising them with his high adaptability in the use of weapons and combat knowledge. He may of not shown any other signs of merit and they were thankful to keep him as the life from onward was indeed dangerous. He learned that they often took on different missions from the other clans and presently that they were on various assignments of a three year contract to Malekith.
Fenris continued to show promise within those three years, he did not know the full details of the contract, some of which he overheard; but over time he would grow more familiar with them and continue to climb the ranks of the Clan. He was often regarded as a ‘son’ to the leader, someone the leader wished he had or even sometimes confused and suggested of being perhaps a bastard born. There were various instances of humor and joy, but there was no such for Fenris. The longer he remained, the more knowledgeable he became and he was glad that he never shifted within any of their company. They had told tales of how beasts were slain in the past, conquered and punished for their follies. As much as he wanted his rage to erupt, he couldn’t, couldn’t risk his vengeance falling short. In time this would be a turning point to a darker tale of his story.
In time he would be responsible for the deaths of various members within the faction. Older ones who shared more experience and were on the ‘right’ to rule risk should something ever befall the present leader o the Blades. He hunted them, preyed on them in his beast form to lower the belief that he may be responsible. No one, after all, could tear through flesh like some monstrous animal could, but he was not foolish to take them all in one sitting. He played another role, sometimes wounding himself to appear that he had gotten away to tell the horror stories. Not always did he inform them, but he gradually laid the trap.
Nothing could have been more grand when stumbling upon an actual beast, something that may be taken into consideration of the mauling of the fallen. He used this to lure his leader to the creature’s nest and from there preyed upon the man after they successfully killed the creature. The horror of his leader’s face was priceless when Fenris shifted to cut him down, hiding his evidence all the while of how deep he had planned his scheme. He returned to the others in blood, showing them the place where he and his master fought the monster off, but with a grave sacrifice.
His right of rule shortly followed, given the remainder of tasks to follow, though not many supported him. He gradually worked over in winning their hearts before the end of the third year, soon choosing to return to the Capital. It would be a first for him and a first for many others. A new face, an unknown kingdom, and various unfamiliar outcomes that may follow. Still, his confidence has yet to waver, this is all for his path of vengeance. On's:
Anal - Giving
Anal - Receiving Player's O/O: Drake ValentineCharacter Model:
Humanoid playby Art by Heise A Drop of Blood~Heise
(Blue eyes unsure of, could be modification by someone else.)