Fen Von Wolfenstein

**Fen** · Tue Apr 16, 2024 10:08 am

Epithet :

Lord of Wolves

Guild :

Paradise Dawn

Jewels :

150,000

Rank :

B-Rank

Race :

Dharga Werewolf

Experience :

100,000

Class :

Adventurer

Strength :

66

Speed :

41

Constitution :

16

Endurance :

16

Intelligence :

1

Mana :

900

Head :

hunter’s visage

General

Name: Fen Von Wolfenstein

Age: 18, December 19th, X778

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Demi-Sexual

Ethnicity, Father: Icebergian

Ethnicity, Mother: Icebergian

Class: Adventurer

Race: Dharga Werewolf

Rank: D-rank

Guild: Guildless

Tattoo: On the inside of her mouth on her tongue. Will also be black + white.

Face: Kindred/Lamb - League of Legends.

Appearance

Height: 3 Meters/ 10'0

Weight: 500 LBS

Hair: White/Black/Blue

Eyes: Blue/Purple

Overall: Among her people Fen is a mountain of an individual, even taller than her mother by several feet. Standing at a proud height of three meters [10 feet] she towers over most individuals even in her natural state. Her body is covered head to toe in white fur and she carries herself with a pride only warriors can match.

Her eyes are a deep blue that shine from behind a deep black mask that she wears at all times except for in the most private of moments. She has a long set of ears that droop down from the sides of her head which go past her chest and tease the top of her stomach. They start off white and fade into black with blue sigils on it. She has a long mane of fur that sits behind her mask and would cascade down her back were it not for how it seems to spring and flow behind her. She has several deep blue tattoos that are seen through her fur as they were magically inlaid into her body. Two on her sides just below the ribs and two more on either of her thighs.

Her body is that of a generous warrior, a dexterous marksman and a powerful athlete. Pure rippling muscle could be seen and felt underneath her fur. From her fathers side she has gained some traits not quite wolfen, like her claws being rather nubby and a set of hooves at the bottom of her digigrade feet. She's nearly comparable to a demi-human though her true form would be even more monstrous than this.

Extra: While she has no magic of her own there are ample parts of her body that glow with an unearthly power. Such as the mana blue tattoos, an area behind her mask and her eyes giving her an otherworldly look.

Personality

Personality:

Cold: Emotions usually run hot in her kind but Fen’s distance from them makes her a cold blooded individual. There’s barely any warmth in her words and her dispassion to most instances can be felt from the very moment she opens her mouth. There are few things that get her heated and even fewer that make a stir on her. A chilling tone and a curt interaction is often the best most people get from her.
Calculated: Every interaction, every instance, every moment comes with a cruel calculation. The very first time she meets someone she’s already thinking of the best way to kill them, the easiest solution for every person is to have an instance of being able to be on top. Every moment is measured and every weakness is exploited to the maximum. It’s even worse when she helps people, not expecting people to help her in return but instead using this trust to further her own goals or their death.
Sadistic: Fen simply put… likes to inflict harm on others, ranging from the fights she gets into to the emotional pain she puts some through. Though she’s tempered this to a degree; there’s a certain amount of inner glee she feels ever so briefly from harming another individual. It rarely moves her exterior but the slight twitches or gentle adjustment of her stances are the easiest way to notice this.
Distant: It's rare to get a read on her, hard to really tell what she's thinking. She's closed off from many people and doesn't share much outside of her name and where she comes from; if they even get that. Her goals are always at the front of her mind and those she's hunting or hunted will be even likely to get less.
Straight to the Point: Fen simply put: Does not mess around or beat around the bush. She will tell you how it is if you get anything from her at all. While she's not silent by any degree this makes her come off as exceptionally brutal.

Likes:

Hunting: It's no surprise but with her upbringing much of the resources she's been able to aquire was from her own power. She continually was forced to and eventually started to enjoy the sensations of the hunt.
Meat: It's a craving, a desire, a need, a must. It's an addiction she can't quite get rid of. Its a natural desire and she enjoys consuming it... even raw.

Dislikes:

The Heat: Being covered head to toe in fur is something that comes with some frustrations. The heat being one of them, in warmer climates she's considerably more irritated than normal.
Empty Promises: She despises empty promises, people that can't fulfill what they say they can might as well of not said anything at all.

Motivations:

Her Hunt: The hunt for her mother, the hunt for her grandmother. The hunt for the imposter, the hunt for the fakes. She has a list, checks it twice and adds a name to it more often than not.

Fears:

Failure: Stemming from the frustrating abuse from her father up until his death, she has an abject fear of failing and the repercussions that follow.
To never make a name for herself: To die forgotten and alone is something that she for some reason at such an early age has heartily been instilled into her.

Statistics

Strength: 26

Speed: 1

Constitution: 1

Endurance: 1

Intelligence: 1

History

History: To say that her birth was tumultous is to say that she was never wanted.

Which, from her mother, from her father, from the disspassion she could feel from every waking moment with the latter. She never met her mother, not after her birth. She barely remembers the icy face and the tear stains from it. The last vestige of what she knows of her mother is that she was a hunter, so was her father. A fight had ensued to dictate who was going to keep her some time ago; a deal that was made without any consideration to her own being.

But something twisted had happened to her from the start, her body was not that of a typical human or werewolf. She was far more powerful; far more tempered from the get go. Her body was already covered in fur and was almost unnatural compared to the beings that had given her to this world. Both of her parents were in the fullest, Wolfensteins. An ancient family that spanned across the hundreds if not thousands of years and came down to a handful of individuals that could hardly know one another outside of names. Some fool in the desert, some daemon sealed in a tomb and a pup that barely knew the world outside of the parents that had concieved her.

Her youth was brutal, her father was no loving man. He had a twisted vision of the world and further yet a twisted vision of how to raise her. She couldn't remember when it started really, five? Six years old maybe? His training was intense, left her bruised, battered, beaten down almost daily. He hated weakness, hated his mate, hated her. He pushed her to the brink so frequently that she practically slept with the fear of death for the entirity of her youth.

But the pain was something that she started to call friend, the hatred in her chest grew a thousand fold each evening. When she learned from the various people who were present at her birth in the tumoloutos town that they stayed in in the region of iceberg the fledgling concieved of her first step. One that she'd take upon the crest of her adulthood. It was meticolous. Calculated. Hatred flowed so passionately through her veins that it left every other emotion cold and distant.

Even that eventually faded and was replaced with a deep seated want of revenge on everyone who had wronged her. It was a brutal night. Starting with every single townsfolk that had been there, the ones that knew got no mercy, those that didn't were pushed aside. She knew her targets simply by the pain laced behind their eyes when they looked at her.

The last she saved for a bitter desire to see all that he had built up over the years, all of the training he had forced on her to be turned onto him. The first and second arrows were to his knees, the next into his hands, each lung, she didn't shoot him through the heart until he was nearly dead, cutting off his life in a macab sort of fashion where he couldn't even find the breath to speak. He had grown weak and old in their time together.

A wolfenstein would never be weak. They would be culled instead.

Her decision on that matter was absolute and knowing that her burning desire to continue that thought led her to the the ideal of the hunt. First her mother, then those that would follow being further still. As she discovered more weaklings, her targets would grow if they claimed that name. There were many that thought themselves worthy of the ancient hunter clan. She would trim those numbers till the name was remembered through fear and respect.

So she left iceberg in a dark veil of blood; traveling and making her way to fiore...

Discord: GrinningSaturn