by Picture: 
Name: Fenrir Guðleifr
Aliases/Nicknames: Fen
Titles: Fenrisúlfr, Hróðvitnir, or Vánagandr
Age and Date of Birth: Unknown, December 31st
Gender: Male
Sexual Orientation/Gender Identification: Bisexual, leans more toward women.
Race: Demi-god
Weapons/Combat Magic: Improvised Weapons
Passive Abilities: Strength, being a demi-god, he is very strong, maybe even more so than most gods. Age, Fenrir doesn’t age as normal people do. Once he hit maturity, he stopped physically aging.
Height: 6’4”
Weight: About 200 lbs of muscle
Build: He’s rather muscular, but not overly so. He likes to stay in shape by taking long runs in the woods and weightlifting at the gym.
Eye Color: Yellow and reflective to allow him to see in darkly lit areas, though sometimes they change to red. There really isn’t a reason for the change.
Hair Color: Very dark brown/black
Tattoos, Piercings, Marks, Scars, etc: None.
Occupation/Job: Witcher
Faction: Mercenary
Group: Witcher
Biography: Try if you will, Fenrir won’t talk about the past. You can look it up and read about the legends. Nor will he fix anything that might be wrong with those legends. All he will tell you is the now. He currently lives in a decent home in the middle of the city and makes his living doing what he's always loved; killing monsters. As a Witcher, he know beasts well and can tell a creature by their scent of he's known it before.
The Myth and Legend
When Fenrir was a pup, he wasn't the beast that is known today. He dearly loved his family and lived with a heart full of life and the drive to prove to everyone that despite everything, he could live up to the expectations of the gods. He had a fire in his heart that was unrivaled and a vibrancy that put him apart from others. However, a prophecy ruined it all. It foretold of him spreading chaos and causing the destruction of the Nine Worlds and at the time, he didn't fight the prophecy, sure that he would become strong enough to take down all of the gods if given the time. And he had always known that the gods saw him as an enemy despite them trying to act friendly at first.
The gods began trying to create chains to restrain him, but all of their attempts were in vain, as he was able to break each and every one of them until the fateful day when they came bearing a silken looking ribbon. Instantly, he knew they were trying to trick him and put forth a challenge of his own. If one of the gods were to put their hand in his mouth to ensure that he would be free once more, he would not back down from the challenge. No one volunteered, besides one... One that he was sure would never betray him as he saw him as almost a friend. The one god aside from his father that had held no fear toward him... Tyr offered and Fenrir was sure that of all the gods, Tyr wouldn't betray him and agreed to allow them to shackle him, but oh how wrong he had been...
He pulled and panicked, doing everything in his power to break free, but in the end, he was unable to destroy the ribbons that bound him. With a sorrowful howl, he bit Tyr's hand off as the gods finished binding him to a boulder. That was not their last wrong, either. They shoved a sword in his mouth to keep him from howling before they fled the island, leaving the wolf alone and in pain for centuries.
The wolf sat there for who knows how many years before a woman found him in his prison. She removed the sword from his mouth and they slowly began to talk. This woman would be his freedom, his redemption and his revenge and she didn't even know it yet. The wolf began to speak of things he had once believed so purely in, whispers of love and a family with a forever of happiness and joy. It took the woman a long time, lots of wooing and convincing that his heart belonged to her and only to her, the woman that had delivered him from despair and insanity. And as most women want to, she began to believe him until that inevitable day when she was foolish enough to fall for him and undid the ribbons that bound him.
In an instant, the woman that trusted him as he had trust Tyr was dead, her flesh gnashed between his jaws and her body lying dismembered on the ground at his feet before he turned his attention to Asgard with a thunderous howl. It was not to be, however... The woman's mother intervened, finding her daughter's body in the scattered remains he'd left of her. Her mother cursed the wolf, sealed away his full form and banished him to Midgard until he could love as purely as her daughter had loved him and only then would he be able to achieve his revenge on the Aesir that had locked him away.
Try as he might, Fenrir knew that this curse was a forever curse. No one could be trusted and his heart had long lost its ability to love as it once did. He spent a large portion of three hundred years destroying everything and killing everyone he came across in his rage and delirium.
As the years passed by, Fenrir has yet to get close to anyone, though he has come across a few people he can tolerate and even a few that he actually gets along with, though he has yet to truly trust any of these people.
Skills:
Body: - Strength
Dexterity:- Reflexes
Intelligence: - Beast Knowledge
Charisma: - Intimidation
Perception: - Heightened Scent
Learned Skills: - Medicine
Crafting Skills: - Medicinal herbs
Combat/Magic:- Improvised weapons
Inventory: Laptop, cell phones, rope, change of clothes, lock picks, Leatherman tool, loose AA batteries, headphones, pens, a book or two.
-----------------------------------------
Place of Birth: Ancient Scandinavia
Language(s): Common (Ancient Norse, English), Beast Speak, Primordial.
Accent: None
Voice: He has a very deep voice, a bit gruff and usually sarcastic. He can be a smooth talker when he really wants to. It should be noted that even if I'm his wolf form, he can speak human languages.
Pantheon: Norse
Family: Jormungadr - Brother
Hel - Sister
Loki - Father
Education: Some college, lot’s of bestiary knowledge.
Current Relationship Status: Single
Relationship History: None worth mentioning.
Likes: Pain of others, getting what he wants, baths, cigarettes, peaches, being left alone.
Dislikes: People, thunderstorms, lies, Gods, the weak.
Pet Peeves: Liars.
Hobbies: Chess. Strange hobby, but he loves chess.
Interests: Cheap booze and night runs in the woods. Oh, and killing things.
Clothing Style: He wears a lot of leather, usually jackets and gloves. His pants are typically jeans and are usually in nice shape. T-shirts and other such things are usually used for hunting his targets. He does clean up very nicely as well, going with slacks, ties, buttons ups and jackets, but those occasions are rare.
Weaknesses: Dwarven chains - Or ribbon, if you will. Any part of the bindings still make him weak.
The Dark/Claustrophobic spaces - Fenrir really, really hates small, dark places. Blindfolds are also a no go. And don't even bring up chains.
Thunderstorms - They don’t exactly scare him, but they make him restless.
Restrictions: His power is bound and sealed away by another goddess. Revenge and rage is one hell of a thing to create power for a binding spell and no one hath no fury like a mother scorned.
Alternate Forms: Fenrir has a few different wolf forms. One being his smaller wolf, standing at about 6 feet tall at his shoulder. His fur is grey, turning from a light grey at the base to a dark grey, almost black at the tips.
He also has his very, very large form, the one from the ‘myths’ from long ago. He’s about the size of a mountain with teeth as big as full grown men. However, this form of his has been sealed since long ago and he’s unable to take that form at all.
Extra Anatomy: None
Serious Flaws/Addictions/Problems/Disorders/Disabilities: Fenrir has a lot of problems… Trust issues are probably one of his main problems. He doesn’t trust anyone at all for pretty much anything. He hates most of people, but can come across as a sarcastic ‘friendly’.
Soundtrack/Song: Theory of a Deadman ft Alice Cooper - Savages
Relationships to other characters: None yet.
Name: Fenrir Guðleifr
Aliases/Nicknames: Fen
Titles: Fenrisúlfr, Hróðvitnir, or Vánagandr
Age and Date of Birth: Unknown, December 31st
Gender: Male
Sexual Orientation/Gender Identification: Bisexual, leans more toward women.
Race: Demi-god
Weapons/Combat Magic: Improvised Weapons
Passive Abilities: Strength, being a demi-god, he is very strong, maybe even more so than most gods. Age, Fenrir doesn’t age as normal people do. Once he hit maturity, he stopped physically aging.
Height: 6’4”
Weight: About 200 lbs of muscle
Build: He’s rather muscular, but not overly so. He likes to stay in shape by taking long runs in the woods and weightlifting at the gym.
Eye Color: Yellow and reflective to allow him to see in darkly lit areas, though sometimes they change to red. There really isn’t a reason for the change.
Hair Color: Very dark brown/black
Tattoos, Piercings, Marks, Scars, etc: None.
Occupation/Job: Witcher
Faction: Mercenary
Group: Witcher
Biography: Try if you will, Fenrir won’t talk about the past. You can look it up and read about the legends. Nor will he fix anything that might be wrong with those legends. All he will tell you is the now. He currently lives in a decent home in the middle of the city and makes his living doing what he's always loved; killing monsters. As a Witcher, he know beasts well and can tell a creature by their scent of he's known it before.
The Myth and Legend
When Fenrir was a pup, he wasn't the beast that is known today. He dearly loved his family and lived with a heart full of life and the drive to prove to everyone that despite everything, he could live up to the expectations of the gods. He had a fire in his heart that was unrivaled and a vibrancy that put him apart from others. However, a prophecy ruined it all. It foretold of him spreading chaos and causing the destruction of the Nine Worlds and at the time, he didn't fight the prophecy, sure that he would become strong enough to take down all of the gods if given the time. And he had always known that the gods saw him as an enemy despite them trying to act friendly at first.
The gods began trying to create chains to restrain him, but all of their attempts were in vain, as he was able to break each and every one of them until the fateful day when they came bearing a silken looking ribbon. Instantly, he knew they were trying to trick him and put forth a challenge of his own. If one of the gods were to put their hand in his mouth to ensure that he would be free once more, he would not back down from the challenge. No one volunteered, besides one... One that he was sure would never betray him as he saw him as almost a friend. The one god aside from his father that had held no fear toward him... Tyr offered and Fenrir was sure that of all the gods, Tyr wouldn't betray him and agreed to allow them to shackle him, but oh how wrong he had been...
He pulled and panicked, doing everything in his power to break free, but in the end, he was unable to destroy the ribbons that bound him. With a sorrowful howl, he bit Tyr's hand off as the gods finished binding him to a boulder. That was not their last wrong, either. They shoved a sword in his mouth to keep him from howling before they fled the island, leaving the wolf alone and in pain for centuries.
The wolf sat there for who knows how many years before a woman found him in his prison. She removed the sword from his mouth and they slowly began to talk. This woman would be his freedom, his redemption and his revenge and she didn't even know it yet. The wolf began to speak of things he had once believed so purely in, whispers of love and a family with a forever of happiness and joy. It took the woman a long time, lots of wooing and convincing that his heart belonged to her and only to her, the woman that had delivered him from despair and insanity. And as most women want to, she began to believe him until that inevitable day when she was foolish enough to fall for him and undid the ribbons that bound him.
In an instant, the woman that trusted him as he had trust Tyr was dead, her flesh gnashed between his jaws and her body lying dismembered on the ground at his feet before he turned his attention to Asgard with a thunderous howl. It was not to be, however... The woman's mother intervened, finding her daughter's body in the scattered remains he'd left of her. Her mother cursed the wolf, sealed away his full form and banished him to Midgard until he could love as purely as her daughter had loved him and only then would he be able to achieve his revenge on the Aesir that had locked him away.
Try as he might, Fenrir knew that this curse was a forever curse. No one could be trusted and his heart had long lost its ability to love as it once did. He spent a large portion of three hundred years destroying everything and killing everyone he came across in his rage and delirium.
As the years passed by, Fenrir has yet to get close to anyone, though he has come across a few people he can tolerate and even a few that he actually gets along with, though he has yet to truly trust any of these people.
Skills:
Body: - Strength
Dexterity:- Reflexes
Intelligence: - Beast Knowledge
Charisma: - Intimidation
Perception: - Heightened Scent
Learned Skills: - Medicine
Crafting Skills: - Medicinal herbs
Combat/Magic:- Improvised weapons
Inventory: Laptop, cell phones, rope, change of clothes, lock picks, Leatherman tool, loose AA batteries, headphones, pens, a book or two.
-----------------------------------------
Place of Birth: Ancient Scandinavia
Language(s): Common (Ancient Norse, English), Beast Speak, Primordial.
Accent: None
Voice: He has a very deep voice, a bit gruff and usually sarcastic. He can be a smooth talker when he really wants to. It should be noted that even if I'm his wolf form, he can speak human languages.
Pantheon: Norse
Family: Jormungadr - Brother
Hel - Sister
Loki - Father
Education: Some college, lot’s of bestiary knowledge.
Current Relationship Status: Single
Relationship History: None worth mentioning.
Likes: Pain of others, getting what he wants, baths, cigarettes, peaches, being left alone.
Dislikes: People, thunderstorms, lies, Gods, the weak.
Pet Peeves: Liars.
Hobbies: Chess. Strange hobby, but he loves chess.
Interests: Cheap booze and night runs in the woods. Oh, and killing things.
Clothing Style: He wears a lot of leather, usually jackets and gloves. His pants are typically jeans and are usually in nice shape. T-shirts and other such things are usually used for hunting his targets. He does clean up very nicely as well, going with slacks, ties, buttons ups and jackets, but those occasions are rare.
Weaknesses: Dwarven chains - Or ribbon, if you will. Any part of the bindings still make him weak.
The Dark/Claustrophobic spaces - Fenrir really, really hates small, dark places. Blindfolds are also a no go. And don't even bring up chains.
Thunderstorms - They don’t exactly scare him, but they make him restless.
Restrictions: His power is bound and sealed away by another goddess. Revenge and rage is one hell of a thing to create power for a binding spell and no one hath no fury like a mother scorned.
Alternate Forms: Fenrir has a few different wolf forms. One being his smaller wolf, standing at about 6 feet tall at his shoulder. His fur is grey, turning from a light grey at the base to a dark grey, almost black at the tips.
He also has his very, very large form, the one from the ‘myths’ from long ago. He’s about the size of a mountain with teeth as big as full grown men. However, this form of his has been sealed since long ago and he’s unable to take that form at all.
Extra Anatomy: None
Serious Flaws/Addictions/Problems/Disorders/Disabilities: Fenrir has a lot of problems… Trust issues are probably one of his main problems. He doesn’t trust anyone at all for pretty much anything. He hates most of people, but can come across as a sarcastic ‘friendly’.
Soundtrack/Song: Theory of a Deadman ft Alice Cooper - Savages
Relationships to other characters: None yet.
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