[b][u]Name:[/u][/b] Fenris Greyback

[b][u]Age:[/u][/b] Unknown, presumably reaching 300

[b][u]Species:[/u][/b] Werewolf, 

[b][u]Gender:[/u][/b] Male

[b][u]Human Appearance:[/u][/b]
[hider=Fenris Human Form][img=http://images.derstandard.at/2010/09/22/1285039921180.jpg][/hider]
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.

[b][u]Beast Appearance:[/u][/b]
[hider=Greyback][img=http://fc04.deviantart.net/fs71/i/2012/211/f/8/werewolf_by_nightblue_art-d598ni4.jpg][/hider]

[b][u]Personality:[/u][/b]
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...

[b][u]Brief History:[/u][/b]
[hider=version1.0]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.[/hider]
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.