Post by ¿℟ᵿҝɸ on Jun 21, 2011 2:33:34 GMT -5
Fane
"You're sick, sick as all the secrets you deny,
Sins like skeletons are so very hard to hide"
Sins like skeletons are so very hard to hide"
--! Losing self, in myself,
NAME:Fane
NICKNAME(S): Give him one. <3
PRONUNCIATION:Fay-N
POSITION: Free-Roamer
--! Inner demons make demands,
AGE: 4 1/2
GENDER: Male
BREED:Himalayan Wolf
HEIGHT: 36 inches
APPEARANCE:
Fane is a rather intimidating presence both by his size and appearance. His coat is a dark grey color accented by silver highlights that camouflage him perfectly against any rocky mountain side or outcropping. His fur is long and thick making him uncomfortable in the summer, but a welcome blessing during the frigid winter months. Without so much layering in his pelt one would see how muscularly defined this wolf is.
The great contours of his legs are obscured by the bulk of his fur but that does not mean they don't exist. From his years of living in the mountains Fane became sure footed and agile, building up raw strength and stamina. His sheer physical prowess combined with the density of his fur make him difficult to take down in a fight.
His muzzle is broad and is usually twisted into some sadistic smirk. His eyes are a vivid auburn color that stands out from his light colored coat. Surprisingly Fane has no visible scars to speak of, most likely due to his thick fur protecting his skin during his almost weekly fights.
--! I've forgotten who's beneath,
PERSONALITY: Fane is the type of wolf that mothers tell stories about to scare their children and make sure they eat their vegetables. Most folk would avoid him if they knew him, and with good reason. He is the exemplary example of a true sadist and puts most dominors' cruelty to shame. He enjoys to watch strife, conflict, and suffering, but adores causing it even more. Endless torment and the odor of blood seem to follow him wherever he goes. An aura of unnatural bloodlust almost drips from this monster of a wolf with each step he takes.
The most unnerving part about him however is his concealing behavior. One could be talking to him as if he were just like all the other normal folk, except slightly more creepy of course, and have no idea that he was plotting their bloody demise to happen within the following seconds. Fane is not aggressive nor irrational. He has his moments of spontaneity but usually all of his actions are premeditated and done so with purpose. His highly intelligent mind contrasts with the senseless bloodshed and only adds to the danger of being in contact with him.
His morals and sense of integrity have been long destroyed by his lustful desire to create suffering and turmoil. Any kindness payed by this wolf to another should be taken with utmost caution as it most likely means danger. What little sense of compassion he has left Fane struggles to suppress it. He doesn't think those who express it to him or others are weak or unintelligent nor does he believe he has the right to end another's life because they behave in such a manner. Those he has behaved kindly toward often do not live long but like everything in life he too will create exceptions out of individuals whom he, for some reason, can't bring himself to oust.
--! We're all meant for the flies,
FATHER: Gavin
MOTHER:Irlya
SIBLINGS:Harrow, Byard
HISTORY:
From humble beginnings to future monster.
Fane's puppy days were hardly ones that would bring up a cold hearted killing machine. His mother and father were extraordinary parents to bring up their litter of three in the harshness of a barren mountain side with so little shelter and prey available to themselves, their pack, and the small pups. Each bundle of fur received the maximum amount of care the pair could offer but that wasn't enough to give all of them life. The smallest of the trio, Harrow, perished during her sixth week of life, forming Fane's first memory of death. He and his family stood by and watched as each breath the young creature took grew shallower and fainter until eventually the movement ceased entirely. He remembered the anguish on his parents faces, but couldn't understand why. Harrow's lifeless body, although motionless, spoke with vast quantities of a greater beauty that before had been unknown to the untraveled pup. She had died fighting and that energy was still wrapped around her mortal coil in a sheer display of what life ultimately was.
Perhaps that was the beginning of Fane's fascination and future obsession with death. He longed to understand why such grace was only given to the dead and never bestowed upon those who evaded their end another day. Gavin and Irlya began to worry about the changes in their pup during the following months. It started with butterflies and progressed up from there, growing in the level of disturbing brutality. Fane would pluck one wing off a caught butterfly and observe it flailing about on the rough ground with an eerie sense of satisfaction. At first his parents saw nothing wrong with what he was doing, after all boys will be boys, and it was nothing more than a butterfly, but as they introduced the two remaining pups to hunting a new 'game' was born that unnerved the two elder wolves.
Hunting came easy to Fane. He was built to take down even larger prey with ease and absorbed the lessons like a sponge. Away from the instructors he would practice his skills on much smaller creatures like birds, treating them much like the butterflies from his youth. He enjoyed mutilating these pulse filled organisms much more than the insignificant insects. They bled, screeched, and spattered red in magnificent patterns during their rather pitiful attempts of survival. Eventually he grew bored with birds and progressed to rabbits, turtles, and even the occasional deer. It wasn't until his second year that he killed his first wolf.
Around the fifth month after his first year he left his pack. It was suggested by multiple members and even his own family that he should attempt to find his own pack elsewhere. Truthfully they were merely concerned with their own lives and Fane's actual stability, but that wasn't something they could flat out tell him. So he set out on his own and was quite capable of fending for himself. He rather liked life out in the open, free from subjugation of his idiot alphas or the hindrance of the weaker members. It allowed him to create his own set morals and rules, and what enabled him to come across his first murder scenario.
It was much like how he expected it. A challenge. The other wolf was a loner like himself, only a few years older. He was a rich hazelnut color, but Fane thought he'd look much better splattered red. There was a great multitude of snarling and gnashing of jaws; great rivets were carved into the soft soil by sharpened claws and bodily impacts. After the dust settled and the final blow was struck the silvery male stood above the other, a smirk peeling his maroon stained maw back into a twisted grin. This to him was the apex of pleasure. It was incomparable to anything he'd ever experienced before. He was taken back to his youth, the same ensnaring beauty of his dying sister now engulfed the male before him, only now he was the creator.
On the eve of his third year he had become skilled at fighting and predicting the movement of other canines like himself, however, he had not yet been able to evade the detection of a roaming pack of slave traders. He was outnumbered, overpowered, and captured. The feeling of helplessness never occurred to the male, rather he was filled with an unsettling curiosity. He had heard rumors of slaves and masters occurring in these lands but never had encountered any himself. He was taken to the auctions and quickly found himself indentured to a buff colored timber wolf around his size. The work was dull and exhausting, and for once in his life Fane was on the receiving end of torture. His master was by no means kind nor did he seem to be all there either. The last straw was when the timber wolf decided he was going to have a little fun at the gray's expense. As soon as the subordinate male caught on to the others rather sexual advances he decided his patience with his 'master' was through. Ending his life was not for mere pleasure, no. For once it was out of hate.
After dispatching his former master and meandering off before the rest of the pack could notice he was free once more. Fane had no intentions of creating enemies nor being detected again by another band of slavers. He stuck to the shadows and made himself scarce for a good year before finally beginning his murderous rounds once more.
ooc;; Dear gawd. 8I I think that's the most I've ever written for a history. lol.