Fenrir Greyback

[Fenrir Greyback]

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{ A B O U T . Y O U }

Name: Ry
Gender: male
Age: 22
E-mail: [e-mail]
Years of RPG Experience: 8
Other: removed by staff

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{ Q U I C K . Q U I Z }

How did you find us? blame Ari
What about ISS inspired you to join?
Do you have any suggestions for us?

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{ A B O U T . T H E . C H A R A C T E R }

Name: Fenrir Greyback
Age: 30
Gender: male
Face Claim: Kevin Durand

Canon or Original? Canon

Facial Properties: Fenrir's face is made up of very sharp features. He has a very strong jaw with angular bone structure and a squared chin. He usually has trimmed facial hair and his ears are slightly pointed, just one of the many physical features he has that have slowly been contorted to resembled that of a wolf after years of increasingly often werewolf behavior. His hair is a dull brown color that he keeps shaved to a very short length. Fenrir's mouth is never seen in the position of a smile, or anything close to being cheerful or kind looking. If he finds something funny, he'll smirk maliciously, and if he is displeased, he'll sneer and growl in an eerily wolf-like tone. His teeth are very white, but they have begun to turn slightly pointed permanently. The most noticeably sharp of his teeth are, of course, his K9's, which he takes great, sadistic pleasure in showing off to his prey. He has a very heavy set brow that has deep set wrinkles etched between his eyebrows and across the bridge of his nose from when he snarls. His eyes, though small, can be a bit startling. They are sharp and cold. When he was first born, they were a deep blue color. But, after time, they've faded. Not only the vibrant blue they once were, but also life they once held. The blue has been replaced by a silvery yellow, and the life that once dwelled within them has been taken over by his inner beast, perhaps never to be really seen of again.


Physique: Fenrir Greyback is malevolent in both personality and appearance. Fenrir is one of the most daunting beings you would ever have the misfortune of running into. Standing at a full height of 6'6", when he walks into a room, you notice. He has exceptionally wide set shoulders and his entire body frame is filled to the brim with muscles. His neck is thick which makes it look as if he doesn't have much of one at all. Fenrir's posture isn't stick-straight. His back curves in the shape of a parenthesis with his hips jutted out and his shoulders slightly hunched forward. He has thick, dark hair along his arms down to his knuckles and down the center of his chest. His large and strong hands are built perfectly for crushing bones and strangling necks and end in long fingernails, which, over time, have slowly begun to turn a faint tint of yellow. He has a good deal of scars covering most of his body from various fights he has been in, both with man and beast alike.

When it comes to clothing, Fenrir hates layers. In fact, he hates clothing in general, he much rather prefers the feel of having absolutely nothing on, though he can really only get away with that in the privacy of his own home, or in his wolf form. It isn't that he'd feel uncomfortable walking about stark naked, he's not humble in the least in regards to that, but the general public tends to frown upon naked men walking about. So, to compensate, Fenrir wears the bare minimal of clothing. Whatever he wears is normally very tight, and he usually wears roughly worn black jeans, old t-shirts (though he prefers to go shirtless) and thick, heavy, black combat boots. The only type of outerwear he'll adorn is his black cloak of his Death Eater robes and mask.

Fenrir, of course, changes into a completely different form to that of a wolf during a full moon. When he changes, his wolf form resembles the closest to that of a Timber Wolf, the largest of the wolf family. Even when transformed into a wolf, his full length from snout to tail still remains that of 6'6". His coat is thick and consists mostly of silvery-white fur with stripes and patches of darker gray and black. When he is transformer, his sharp eyes pulsate with blood lust and echo the yellow shade they normally are when he is in human form, but are a bit darker than normal. His voice greatly reflects his inner beast. It's deep and has a persistent, low and rolling growl to it. Whenever he laughs, it's sharp, very bark-like and not at all a pleasant sound like most laughter is.

Wand Type: Bloodwood, 9 inches, rigid with dragon whisker core.
Wand Expertise: Good with hexes.
Patronus: Shaggy Timber Wolf
Boggart:

Personality: In terms of who truly is the most demented and ruthlessly sadistic being in the wizarding world, Fenrir Greyback gives Lord Voldemort a good run for his money. Fenrir is an exceptionally power hungry individual. He loves the feeling of knowing he's stronger than almost anyone he encounters, and, more so, he loves the feeling of terrifying people who he has never really even met. This has been furthered with his recent surge of popularity among the wizarding world as being a well-known killer. All this publicity does is feed into his ego and he takes the utmost pleasure in stalking and horrifying his prey. Be he in wolf form or in his human state, Fenrir will taunt and tease his victims and also has a constant thirst for blood and flesh. He'll draw out the state of stalking and circling them, snarling, barking and licking his sharp teeth until his prey is nothing but a shaking, spluttering heap on the floor. He makes sure that the smell of fear pouring off his victims is painfully potent before he attacks and goes in for the kill.

He is also power hungry in terms of actually gaining power in society. He loathes the general population of wizards, and he especially hates the Ministry of Magic. It is because of them that he has been oppressed and shunned from society ever sense he was bitten, but this isn't actually so much because he's simply a werewolf, but because of how deadly he really is. Regardless, he wants his revenge on the world. He's intent on biting others and forming them into werewolves and then convincing them that witches and wizards are the enemy, and that the brethren of werewolves need to come together in great numbers, rise up against the Ministry, and take over to create a world led by the truly powerful; the werewolves. He wants to be bale to roam cities freely and able to take all the victims he wants and devour all the flesh and blood his stomach could possibly handle (which is a sickeningly large amount).

Another strong personality trait that Fenrir has is he is honestly fearless. He lives with no regrets and taking no prisoners. One could say that he lives by the saying "live as if you'll die tomorrow", but while for most normal people that's a good way for them to live by, it probably isn't good for someone like Fenrir Greyback to do for the sake of the rest of the world. He's convinced he is stronger than any other man or beast in the world, and thus never hesitates to attack if he sees it fit. There's nothing in this world that frightens him. In fact, he would actually like to find someone, or something, that did, because he's also an intense adrenaline junky. He'll do outrageously dangerous and potentially life threatening things simply to get that intoxicating surge of nerves. This is another reason why he rather enjoys torturing his prey. He gets a rush out of it, and Fenrir is always looking for the next bigger and better high. True, he does have a wand with which he could use to subdue his prey, but he enjoys getting his hands dirty, literally.

Obviously, Fenrir doesn't have the best people skills in the world. He only interacts with people -- aside from maiming them -- in three different ways. The first would be for someone his dislikes, which is for most people. He has an extremely short temper and if you anger him, you'll live to regret it. He's very vengeful due to the fact that he is so easily offended. If he feels that you have insulted him to a larger extent, rest assure you will either find yourself or someone you love dearly dead or turned into a werewolf in a very short amount of time. Fenrir dislikes most people and thus he's very coarse a majority of the time and will use his rather ominous stance to intimidate people nonverbally. He feels that he is a quite magnificent being and needs to be treated as such with fear and respect.

There aren't necessarily people that he likes, but there are people whom he tolerates, and even a fewer amount of whom he holds a small bit of respect for. Even with these select few, Fenrir isn't the slightest be kind or friendly. It simply doesn't exist in a body such as his that is full to the brim with maliciousness. He will, however, be less prone to try to intimidate them, though on some level he's always establishing that he is the alpha male in a social situation of any sort. Fenrir also will be a bit joking, though most find his sense of humor too be largely sadistic and dry. Then there are women. Fenrir wouldn't be described as a ladies man, not in the least, but he is an extremely sexually driven being which he noticed had erupted inside of him and taken control back when he was seventeen. Not only did he gain an over powering blood-lust when he was turned into a werewolf, but a whole other kind of lust in general.

Likes:
+ children
+ women
+ rare meat
+ night time
+ tobacco
+ alcohol
+ chasing
+ sex
+ intimidating people
+ the moon
Dislikes:
– clothes
– people
– the ministry of magic
– Dumbledore
– centaurs
– being cooped up indoors
– wolfsbane
– being insulted
– the sun
– cocky people

History: Some people were born accursed straight form the womb, while others were formed into that of malicious beings due to their environment. For Fenrir Greyback, it was an incorrigible mix of both.

Faylinn Alridge was a muggle woman from a long line of Scottish farmers. She married Cowan Greyback, who was a farmer boy who lived in the same village as her. They were both very catholic and had a traditional, yet modest, catholic wedding that they spent most of the small amount of money they had on. The two were madly in love and only a very short time after they were married, they had their daughter Ivy. The three lived very happily in a small cottage in the Scottish countryside, but, alas, the joy didn't last very long. When World War II reared its ugly head, Cowan was called into battle, and in 1941, he was killed in action. Faylinn was heart broken, as was Ivy, who was only 11 at the time of her father's death. They ended up moving to England when they could no longer afford to keep their cottage and farm. They got a small apartment in the very shady part of London, but it was all they could afford. To afford their rent, both Faylinn and Ivy had to get jobs in a factory. Faylinn worked mostly night shifts while Ivy did morning ones.

One night, after getting off her night shift, Faylinn met a man at a small pub named Richard Scarborough. One thing led to another, and the man, unbeknown to Faylinn, used wizardry (the imperius curse) to lure her into having sex with him. She remembered very little of it, and when she woke up, she was in the local hospital with multiple cuts and bruises. She could still vividly remember exactly what the strange man had looked like, but the authorities did little to nothing to catch him. She was traumatized from the event and refused to work night shifts any longer, so, along with her daughter, she began working just the day shifts at the factory. A couple of months later, Faylinn discovered that she was pregnant. While the obvious answer to this problem would've been to get an underground abortion, Faylinn refused to do so because it was against her religious beliefs. She told herself that she would love this baby just as much as she did her daughter, and so on October 17th, 1941, Fenrir was born.

The first couple of years of Fenrir's life went as well as they could go for living in such a poor family. However, as he began to grow older, Fenrir's stark resemblance of Faylinn's seducer began to haunt her, not only in her dreams, but also in her waking hours. When he was three, Fenrir's mother finally couldn't take it anymore. She ended up abandoning both her children, and at the age of 18, Ivy was forced to become Fenrir's mother figure. She worked numerous shifts at various factories to afford food and clothing and rent for herself and Fenrir. However, this was exceptionally difficult to manage, so Ivy ended up giving into the factory owner's advances. Providing she were to be his mistress, the factory owner gave Ivy and her little brother all the money they needed to live somewhat comfortably. During this time, Fenrir was an oddly quiet child. He never spoke to anyone, he barely even spoke to Ivy. She was always sweet, kind and very nurturing to Fenrir, but he was completely unresponsive. Fenrir spent most of his time catching rats and mice that lurked in their apartment with various, deadly contraptions he had made himself.

When Fenrir turned eleven, a very odd thing happened. He received a letter, that came by owl strangely enough, telling him he had be accepted to some sort of school for witch craft. Ivy was convinced it was a hoax for some sort of expensive private school and promptly threw the letter out. It took several copies of the letter flying through the mail slot in their door for Ivy to finally give in and take Fenrir to this so-called "Diagon Alley". It was there that both Ivy and Fenrir discovered that there were such things as witches and wizards. Of course, it took Ivy a long while to finally come to grips with this reality, but Fenrir, for once in his life, was actually excited about something. So, it was that September that Fenrir attended his first year at Hogwarts. When he arrived at Hogwarts, Fenrir thought he'd finally found a place where he could fit in, and, indeed, he had. Instantly, he was sorted into Slytherin house the moment the brim of the Sorting Hat grazed his hair. In Slytherin, Fenrir flourished. He was among students with the same ideals as him, but Fenrir always seemed to take things further than most, especially when it came to picking on other students and getting into fights. Most were scared of him, and some respected him, but only out of said fear. During the summer, he'd go home to stay with his sister Ivy who'd moved into an actual house, and a nice one at that, when the factory owner died in an accident at the factory and left a good portion of his wealth to her.

It was during Fenrir's 7th year that he was bitten by a werewolf. It was winter holiday and Fenrir venturing through Knockturn Alley for the first time, simply because it had always been appealing to him, but younger students were forbidden to go there. It was a full moon night and a rogue werewolf had transformed in one of the shops. It was running away from Ministry of Magic officials who had been tracking the man when he came upon the unsuspecting Fenrir in an alleyway. Running on pure instinct, the werewolf attacked and bit him on his right shoulder. Luckily, or maybe not to luckily, the Ministry officials reached the scene before the werewolf could kill him. Fenrir woke up at St. Mungo's, and there he was informed that he not only had been infected by a werewolf, but because of it, he was no longer allowed to attend Hogwarts. This angered Fenrir to no end, and when the Healers at St. Mungo's tried to give him Wolfsbane to help with his transformations, he refused to take it. This was the beginning of his deadly grudge towards the wizarding community, specifically the Ministry, for shunning him out of society just because he was a werewolf.

Fenrir went home to an unsuspecting Ivy and told her he had been expelled from school. Ivy was upset, of course, but she didn't argue with him about it much. He'd become much more short and much more violent than he had ever been, and she feared to stand up to him anymore. In the next couple of days, Fenrir noticed the odd urge in him growing for meat, and even stranger than that, for raw meat. He found himself watching people and feeling the need to attacked them and get to their throat. Specifically, the beautiful place at the crook of their neck, right where the main artery ran so teasingly close to the surface of their skin, just asking to be punctured so the red liquid that flowed inside could spill free. Time went on, and the night of the next full moon rolled around. Fenrir was at home with Ivy when he transformed. Since he wasn't taking the Wolfsbane, he was unable to keep his right mind during his transformation. Once he was in his wolf form, his vicious animalistic instincts kicked in, and all he could think about was satisfying his hunger, his thirst for blood, with the first thing he came across. That said thing, however, was Ivy.

The next thing Fenrir could remember after that night was waking up in the morning to find Ivy in the living room, dead. Her body lay lifeless in a contorted and odd position. Her throat has been ripped open and her torso had seeping tears all along it. Her blood had seeped into the white carpet below her, spreading out to form what looked almost like scarlet wings around her. Her eyes were wide open, void of any life, and her mouth was opened slightly, as if she were in mid-gasp. Panicked, Fenrir called the police. They came and determined her death had been caused by some rogue beast, but aside from that, they couldn't come to an actual conclusion, but Fenrir knew what had happened. He knew he had been the one to murder his sister. When he had woken up, he felt refreshed and the burning hunger in his stomach was soothed and calm.

Ivy's inherited wealth was passed onto Fenrir. The first thing he did with it was buy a good sized flat in the darker side of town. There, he continued to turn into his wolf like form every full moon, but he did nothing to try to contain it. He liked the hunt. He liked the feel of ripping flesh beneath his claws. He loved the taste of coppery blood splashing into his mouth and down his throat whenever his teeth pierced his victims skin with a scintillating pop. Along with his blood lust, another form of lust began to take him over. His sexual need and drive seemed to kick into over drive, and he couldn't help but obey it willingly. The perk to living in the shady and dangerous part of town was that people could disappear, or be found dead in a dumpster, and no one would care. And so, Fenrir turned not only into a cold-blooded killer in animal form, but also in his human form. He would pick up drunk and defenseless girls in dreary bars and take them out into a dark alley way where he'd have his way with them, not uncommonly by force, and usually end the night with killing them, always having a taste of their blood whether it was a full moon or not.

Fenrir had his first taste of child flesh when he was 19. He'd changed into his uncontrolled wolf state and was hunting through the city. The first person he came upon was a young boy of only 8 years old who was taking out the trash. Fenrir attacked, and the moment his teeth sunk into the boy's skin, Fenrir's taste buds were assault with the most pure and deliciously fresh blood he'd ever tasted in his life. It was that night that he learned that the younger his victim was, the more delicious their blood was. Older people's blood was bland and sour. Children's blood, however, was fresh, sweet, and full of life. He was addicted, and the more he had, the more he wanted to the point where his thirst always seemed to be unsatisfied. Whenever the police force of a certain town or city got too hot on his trails, Fenrir would pack up ad move his location to another dank, urban environment. Along with his growing hunger, his hate for the Ministry and general wizarding public began to grow also. He was shunned from being able to get a job in the wizarding community due to his werewolf status, and he was constantly oppressed and ridiculed, though maybe not without good reason.

During a summer day when Fenrir was in his twenties, he had been in a wizarding pub when he got into an argument about werewolf and vampire rights with a stranger. This said stranger was none other than a Mr. Lupin. The man claimed that werewolves were too wild to be allowed to roam around without being forced to take wolfsbane and kept under control and supervision. By now, Fenrir's reputation for being a cold-blooded killer was becoming a well-known rumor, though, as of now, the Ministry had no proof to condemn him. This, of course, enraged Fenrir. But, instead of attacking the man and ripping his throat out right then and there, he decided to take a more tactful approach on things. That night, he followed the older male Lupin home, and there he waited in the woods that went through his property. It didn't take too long for an unsuspecting Remus Lupin to venture too far into the forest where Fenrir, in his wolf form under the full moon light, was waiting.

Remus Lupin was the first person Fenrir ever bit with the intent of turning them into a werewolf.

Since then, Fenrir had been on the run from the Ministry of Magic and succeeding rather well. He was approached by a certain Lord Voldemort who asked for his allegiance. Fenrir simply let out a sharp, bark-like laugh in the man's face and asked him why exactly he thought he'd join his ranks. He was doing fine on his own, save for the Ministry being on his ass wherever he went. But, Voldemort ended up making him an offer he couldn't refuse. He said that if Fenrir joined him, then he could have all the flesh and blood he wanted in exchange for his services. Fenrir agreed, but not because he gave a flying fuck about the advancement of pureblooded wizards, but because this was a perfect opportunity for him to start changing witched and wizards into werewolves for his own personal interest. He wanted to make an army of werewolves to overtake all the wizards who had been oppressing his kind and standing in their way, and Voldemort was offering up the ability for him to do just that.

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{ C O N T R A C T }

I solemnly swear that I, RY, have read the rules, understand clearly what my responsibilities are now that I am joining ISS, and will abide by these standards set by the staff.

[Professor Albus Dumbledore]

accepted !