Deleted
Roleplay posts: 0
Registered: Nov 21, 2024 4:14:42 GMT -8
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Post by Deleted on Mar 10, 2017 12:03:32 GMT -8
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Fenrir Skargard
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 196 
Age: 29
Physical Description: Fenrir is a large Arctic Werewolf, with fur as white as the snow that plagues his habitat. His paws and muzzle are stained a slight pinkish color from the bloody nature of his food, primarily Caribou and Mountain Seal. His yellow eyes are predatory, and would be terrifying to see in the darkness of a cave or blizzard. He stands roughly 7ft tall, and weighs nearly 300lbs. His fur, claws, and teeth are immaculately well-maintained, as the Wolf believes that keeping oneself clean is foremost in respecting another, for if you do not respect yourself, you cannot respect others.
Clothes and Equipment: He wields the mighty sword White Fang, a Frost-Enchanted Sword he took from the lifeless corpse of a White Witch whom had promised him the sword, then tried to kill him with. The sword, imbued with the blood of the witch, gives him abilities similar to hers, mainly focusing on cold and frost related abilities. His legs are covered by plate armor, and his left arm is covered in a gauntlet with fingers ending in wicked looking claws. The gauntlet is inscribed with more Frost Runes, giving it similar, albeit less powerful, abilities to White Fang.
Registered: May 30, 2016 8:38:38 GMT -8
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Post by Fenrir Skargard on Mar 14, 2017 14:31:38 GMT -8
Fenrir made his way into the ornate hotel, once again questioning his decision to become a traveller, he would need to journey on paw for weeks to avoid going soft after this. Not that his armor ever let him, at least physically. He walked up to where it appeared other people were also waiting to get a room.
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Deleted
Roleplay posts: 0
Registered: Nov 21, 2024 4:14:42 GMT -8
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Post by Deleted on Mar 14, 2017 14:48:16 GMT -8
Each person was dealt with as they entered, more than half of them turned away once they realized the price of the place. The incredible influx of visitors to the city made things somewhat chaotic, and the harried majordomo of the hotel was speaking in quick Sakandi to the servants near him.
Apparently, security measures would have to be upped, and people of a certain LOOK would no longer be allowed within the hotel. Only those who seemed to have money would do, and as the bald-headed majordomo looked at Fenrir, he smiled.
The wolf creature wore glowing, rune-etched armor. He had money. Or at least appeared to.
"Hello and welcome to the Jade Mist Hotel, my apologies for the scramble of people," the Sakandi man said, his accent deep. "Let me accommodate you, Mr...?" Once a name was given -- real or not -- the man would quickly check Fenrir in, then have a young man lead him toward his rooms.
The young man spoke to Fenrir of what there was to see in Sakand -- The Grand Bazaar, the Bejeweled Gardens, the Temple of Serenity, the Cerulean Bathhouse (a particular favorite, the boy said, although highly exclusive), and more and then let Fenrir know that if he were to require anything else, to simply use the mirror in the foyer.
The door closed behind the boy with a quiet snap, and left Fenrir alone.
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Deleted
Roleplay posts: 0
Registered: Nov 21, 2024 4:14:42 GMT -8
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Post by Deleted on Mar 14, 2017 14:50:23 GMT -8
Within Fenrir's bag, something began to freeze. He perhaps wouldn't feel it at first, given the coolant nature of his armor, but soon it would be impossible to miss that FROST was beginning to grow on his bag now that he was within his own private hotel room...
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Fenrir Skargard
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 196
Age: 29
Physical Description: Fenrir is a large Arctic Werewolf, with fur as white as the snow that plagues his habitat. His paws and muzzle are stained a slight pinkish color from the bloody nature of his food, primarily Caribou and Mountain Seal. His yellow eyes are predatory, and would be terrifying to see in the darkness of a cave or blizzard. He stands roughly 7ft tall, and weighs nearly 300lbs. His fur, claws, and teeth are immaculately well-maintained, as the Wolf believes that keeping oneself clean is foremost in respecting another, for if you do not respect yourself, you cannot respect others.
Clothes and Equipment: He wields the mighty sword White Fang, a Frost-Enchanted Sword he took from the lifeless corpse of a White Witch whom had promised him the sword, then tried to kill him with. The sword, imbued with the blood of the witch, gives him abilities similar to hers, mainly focusing on cold and frost related abilities. His legs are covered by plate armor, and his left arm is covered in a gauntlet with fingers ending in wicked looking claws. The gauntlet is inscribed with more Frost Runes, giving it similar, albeit less powerful, abilities to White Fang.
Registered: May 30, 2016 8:38:38 GMT -8
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Post by Fenrir Skargard on Mar 15, 2017 4:25:31 GMT -8
Fenrir did indeed give his real name, for he had no reason to hide it in this city. Or any other city for that matter, as he was proud of his name. He listened attentively to the man's ramblings about what was good to see in the city, making note of what seemed interesting to him.
When he got to his room, he set his stuff down and gazed out the window for a few minutes before noting the new chill in the room. All his magical gear was on him, so with his sword drawn he began to slowly pull everything out until the ring rolled out, landing on the floor.
"What the hell..." he muttered, bending down to pick up the ring with one metal claw.
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Deleted
Roleplay posts: 0
Registered: Nov 21, 2024 4:14:42 GMT -8
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Post by Deleted on Mar 15, 2017 6:34:27 GMT -8
The ring fell from his bags, chiming snd chipping in ice as it fell to the warm tile floor of the room. It glittered, casting a thousand lights intp the room as a ray of sunshine struck upon its icy stone.
Power pulsed from the elegant ring, rolling in waves as where it lay on the the floor, ice began to consume thr ground. There was a whispering in Fenrir's mind, but it sounded dim and far away... And somehow familiar in its quiet and musical quality...
... It beckoned to Fenrir.
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Fenrir Skargard
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 196
Age: 29
Physical Description: Fenrir is a large Arctic Werewolf, with fur as white as the snow that plagues his habitat. His paws and muzzle are stained a slight pinkish color from the bloody nature of his food, primarily Caribou and Mountain Seal. His yellow eyes are predatory, and would be terrifying to see in the darkness of a cave or blizzard. He stands roughly 7ft tall, and weighs nearly 300lbs. His fur, claws, and teeth are immaculately well-maintained, as the Wolf believes that keeping oneself clean is foremost in respecting another, for if you do not respect yourself, you cannot respect others.
Clothes and Equipment: He wields the mighty sword White Fang, a Frost-Enchanted Sword he took from the lifeless corpse of a White Witch whom had promised him the sword, then tried to kill him with. The sword, imbued with the blood of the witch, gives him abilities similar to hers, mainly focusing on cold and frost related abilities. His legs are covered by plate armor, and his left arm is covered in a gauntlet with fingers ending in wicked looking claws. The gauntlet is inscribed with more Frost Runes, giving it similar, albeit less powerful, abilities to White Fang.
Registered: May 30, 2016 8:38:38 GMT -8
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Post by Fenrir Skargard on Mar 16, 2017 3:51:05 GMT -8
The ring was picked up gingerly by his metal arm, the armor that appeared to be covering his arm was in fact attached to him, and he slid the ring onto a single metal claw.
The power pulsating reminded him of something from his past, and he knew of only one being he had worked that closely with who could give off that kind of power and chill. The Frost Queen. A grin crept across his face as the ring slipped on, her power was his.
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Deleted
Roleplay posts: 0
Registered: Nov 21, 2024 4:14:42 GMT -8
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Post by Deleted on Mar 16, 2017 7:27:37 GMT -8
As soon as the ring had settled upon the base of his finger, the ice began to grow more rapidly, large and heavy chunks forming so quickly that they weighed down his arm and immediately began to grow up to his shoulder.
The temperature of the room began to drop, faster and faster as the ice began to claw and grow over his torso, down his back, heavy, heavy, so heavy, pulling him down, a tightening pressure around him as it began to grow up and over his head, filling his mouth, down his throat, into his ears, painfully now, so painful --
Until he blacked out.
He'd wake with a suddeness, however, and wake... Standing where he'd once been. There was no ice upon him, but the ring was there, gently frosting the metal of the finger it had been placed on.
A vision, perhaps?
"Mmmm, Fenrir," a voice of silver chimes behind him, a voice he'd know immediately.
Her snow white arms came over his shoulders, her palms flattened over his armored chest and traced the sigils in the metal. Her long, silvery white hair caressed down one side of him, sparkling the way sunshine did off of ice. A laugh in one of his ears, and an extra coolness as she blew against one just to watch it twitch in that wolfy way it would.
"It's been so long," she sighed, and rested her cheek against his. Her body was crisp and cool against the back of him, those frosty moons pillowed gently against his shoulderblades. "Why didn't you find me sooner?" The fae queen asked in dulcet tones.
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Fenrir Skargard
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 196
Age: 29
Physical Description: Fenrir is a large Arctic Werewolf, with fur as white as the snow that plagues his habitat. His paws and muzzle are stained a slight pinkish color from the bloody nature of his food, primarily Caribou and Mountain Seal. His yellow eyes are predatory, and would be terrifying to see in the darkness of a cave or blizzard. He stands roughly 7ft tall, and weighs nearly 300lbs. His fur, claws, and teeth are immaculately well-maintained, as the Wolf believes that keeping oneself clean is foremost in respecting another, for if you do not respect yourself, you cannot respect others.
Clothes and Equipment: He wields the mighty sword White Fang, a Frost-Enchanted Sword he took from the lifeless corpse of a White Witch whom had promised him the sword, then tried to kill him with. The sword, imbued with the blood of the witch, gives him abilities similar to hers, mainly focusing on cold and frost related abilities. His legs are covered by plate armor, and his left arm is covered in a gauntlet with fingers ending in wicked looking claws. The gauntlet is inscribed with more Frost Runes, giving it similar, albeit less powerful, abilities to White Fang.
Registered: May 30, 2016 8:38:38 GMT -8
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Post by Fenrir Skargard on Mar 17, 2017 12:17:52 GMT -8
The sudden envelopment of ice surprused the wolf, who struggled for a bit before accepting it. Likely a fitting and ironic end after his failures to lead his people.
Fenrir awoke, immediately feeling the new presence behind him, a familiar presence he had thought long dead.
"My...queen...I thought you had perished. We searched long and hard for you, but found no trace of you or your empire."
Once, he and his tribe had been the elite warriors of her armies, but her disappearance had turned it south, and he had proven to be inflexible in his leadership style.
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Deleted
Roleplay posts: 0
Registered: Nov 21, 2024 4:14:42 GMT -8
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Post by Deleted on Mar 17, 2017 14:10:37 GMT -8
She was so pleased that he called her his queen, for she was. Fenrir and his warriors -- they were her's. That was how the Frost Queen saw them, and her time ruling them had been all too short. Too short. There was still so much left to do.
But first...
"Did you?" she asked in her silken tone, a chill at his ear. Her fingertip continued to trace designs over his breastplate, frost following in her wake. "It doesn't seem like you did. It doesn't seem like you missed me at all. In fact..." Her hand slipped down his arm and she became visible at his side, as enticing and beautiful as he would have remembered her. She gripped his ring-bearing hand, where he wore her ring on his finger.
"... I think you just wanted to take this from me, Fenrir." Her tone was still sweet, her face, her body, just so as well. This must have been another one of her Fae games. She did so enjoy them.
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Fenrir Skargard
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 196
Age: 29
Physical Description: Fenrir is a large Arctic Werewolf, with fur as white as the snow that plagues his habitat. His paws and muzzle are stained a slight pinkish color from the bloody nature of his food, primarily Caribou and Mountain Seal. His yellow eyes are predatory, and would be terrifying to see in the darkness of a cave or blizzard. He stands roughly 7ft tall, and weighs nearly 300lbs. His fur, claws, and teeth are immaculately well-maintained, as the Wolf believes that keeping oneself clean is foremost in respecting another, for if you do not respect yourself, you cannot respect others.
Clothes and Equipment: He wields the mighty sword White Fang, a Frost-Enchanted Sword he took from the lifeless corpse of a White Witch whom had promised him the sword, then tried to kill him with. The sword, imbued with the blood of the witch, gives him abilities similar to hers, mainly focusing on cold and frost related abilities. His legs are covered by plate armor, and his left arm is covered in a gauntlet with fingers ending in wicked looking claws. The gauntlet is inscribed with more Frost Runes, giving it similar, albeit less powerful, abilities to White Fang.
Registered: May 30, 2016 8:38:38 GMT -8
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Post by Fenrir Skargard on Mar 20, 2017 2:50:50 GMT -8
And, as always, he resisted her temptations. She had once had plenty of minions willing to succumb to their baser instincts on a whim, but Fenrir had not been among them. Simply put, she was not his type, and any semblance of carnal needs had long ago been suppressed by what he had been through.
"I did not take your ring my queen, I do not know how it found its way into my pack." He said, truthfully speaking. The ring was as much a puzzle to him as her mind was. But who was she to go accusing people? She was the one who abandoned him and his people.
"You abandoned us, left us to starve on those snowy slopes." He said, hackles rising as he remembered those whom he had lost.
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Deleted
Roleplay posts: 0
Registered: Nov 21, 2024 4:14:42 GMT -8
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Post by Deleted on Mar 20, 2017 7:01:42 GMT -8
She moved away from him when she felt that her touch no longer made him warmer. She remembered a time where they could look at each other across the room and feel a heat there, but it seemed that it had dwindled and whithered on the vine, as frozen now as the kingdom she once called home. She was fine with this, however. The Frost Queen had only ever used sex as a tool; her heart was too frozen for it to mean anything more.
Her back was to him, her gown elegant, her long hair as white and flowing as the purest driven snow. Frost crawled over the baked tiles of the desert hotel room he stayed in now, and it touched along everything she did, passing in front of a table where decorations were set upon a table, a mirror before her.
She had no reflection.
When she heard Fenrir's accusation, the enchanting fae turned... ever so slowly... to look at him. There was now a very distinct coldness in the room, and her hand had curled into an icy claw around a Sakandi vase.
"You did not mean such an accusation, Fenrir. I am sure of it," the Frost Queen said, staring at him.
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Fenrir Skargard
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 196
Age: 29
Physical Description: Fenrir is a large Arctic Werewolf, with fur as white as the snow that plagues his habitat. His paws and muzzle are stained a slight pinkish color from the bloody nature of his food, primarily Caribou and Mountain Seal. His yellow eyes are predatory, and would be terrifying to see in the darkness of a cave or blizzard. He stands roughly 7ft tall, and weighs nearly 300lbs. His fur, claws, and teeth are immaculately well-maintained, as the Wolf believes that keeping oneself clean is foremost in respecting another, for if you do not respect yourself, you cannot respect others.
Clothes and Equipment: He wields the mighty sword White Fang, a Frost-Enchanted Sword he took from the lifeless corpse of a White Witch whom had promised him the sword, then tried to kill him with. The sword, imbued with the blood of the witch, gives him abilities similar to hers, mainly focusing on cold and frost related abilities. His legs are covered by plate armor, and his left arm is covered in a gauntlet with fingers ending in wicked looking claws. The gauntlet is inscribed with more Frost Runes, giving it similar, albeit less powerful, abilities to White Fang.
Registered: May 30, 2016 8:38:38 GMT -8
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Post by Fenrir Skargard on Mar 22, 2017 3:44:13 GMT -8
At that moment he was grateful his power had been gained, at great cost, long before he met her. His paw strayed towards his sword, noting the icy hostility in the room.
"I do mean it," he said gruffly, "You disappeared, without any warning, leaving my tribe stranded in the mountains, those whom we had ruled now hostile against us. My tribe suffered greatly because of your abandonment."
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Deleted
Roleplay posts: 0
Registered: Nov 21, 2024 4:14:42 GMT -8
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Post by Deleted on Mar 22, 2017 12:21:04 GMT -8
Like ice had grown upon his arm, it now began to grow in huge crystals around her, making the furniture creek with the sudden weight of the frozen shards. Her pale eyes were intense with her power and her insult, and beneath her delicate, frosty skin, her veins began to turn black.
"I did not ABANDON you," the Frost Queen denied vehemently, the Sakandi vase shattering beneath her icy clawed hand. "I was RIPPED from you, TORN ASSUNDER by a power your little canine mind can barely COMPREHEND," she spoke, her voice as sharp and penetrating as the gales of the long-ago White Mountain.
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Fenrir Skargard
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 196
Age: 29
Physical Description: Fenrir is a large Arctic Werewolf, with fur as white as the snow that plagues his habitat. His paws and muzzle are stained a slight pinkish color from the bloody nature of his food, primarily Caribou and Mountain Seal. His yellow eyes are predatory, and would be terrifying to see in the darkness of a cave or blizzard. He stands roughly 7ft tall, and weighs nearly 300lbs. His fur, claws, and teeth are immaculately well-maintained, as the Wolf believes that keeping oneself clean is foremost in respecting another, for if you do not respect yourself, you cannot respect others.
Clothes and Equipment: He wields the mighty sword White Fang, a Frost-Enchanted Sword he took from the lifeless corpse of a White Witch whom had promised him the sword, then tried to kill him with. The sword, imbued with the blood of the witch, gives him abilities similar to hers, mainly focusing on cold and frost related abilities. His legs are covered by plate armor, and his left arm is covered in a gauntlet with fingers ending in wicked looking claws. The gauntlet is inscribed with more Frost Runes, giving it similar, albeit less powerful, abilities to White Fang.
Registered: May 30, 2016 8:38:38 GMT -8
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Post by Fenrir Skargard on Mar 23, 2017 13:16:48 GMT -8
Such a display may have been enough to convince the wolf to back down in the past, but no longer. He simply did not care, drawing his sword and smashing on of the crystals to bits. Half his tribe had died, the other half exiling him for his failures as an alpha. He had travelled from place to place, never staying for long or finding anything even remotely close to what he could call home. And so...he snapped.
"Tiny little canine mind? You ungrateful woman, I was the one, the only one of your acclaimed devotees who stayed to look for you and it cost me everything. Everything . I delved deep into things that would drive most anyone mad in an attempt to find you and came out empty-handed."
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Deleted
Roleplay posts: 0
Registered: Nov 21, 2024 4:14:42 GMT -8
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Post by Deleted on Mar 23, 2017 14:39:54 GMT -8
"You are a LIAR," she screamed at Fenrir, and the beauty faded away from her, falling away like ice fell from glaciers to reveal her true nature -- a white-furred-and-feathered beast that was all at once snow owl and creature, rising to a height of six feet, seven feet, eight feet, nine feet!
The ice and the snow began to consume the room, faster than he could break it with his sword. Once before, its sharp edges penetrated the air at any angle it could, but NOW they went FOR Fenrir, trying to break through his arm, his flesh, his muscle, to rend his bone, to let his blood warm their pointed, razor-sharp edges.
"LIAR! LIAR!" she screamed, spreading her arms wide as magnifiscent and terrifying ice wings spread. The walls of his hotel room began to shatter and break, the very floor beneath him shaking and trembling and--
-- then he woke up.
Or was it waking?
He was standing right where he was, right where he had been when he'd first put the ring on his finger. The ring was still there. Still cool. Still lightly frosting the metal of his finger...
... but there was no sign of the Frost Queen. No ice in sight.
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Fenrir Skargard
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 196
Age: 29
Physical Description: Fenrir is a large Arctic Werewolf, with fur as white as the snow that plagues his habitat. His paws and muzzle are stained a slight pinkish color from the bloody nature of his food, primarily Caribou and Mountain Seal. His yellow eyes are predatory, and would be terrifying to see in the darkness of a cave or blizzard. He stands roughly 7ft tall, and weighs nearly 300lbs. His fur, claws, and teeth are immaculately well-maintained, as the Wolf believes that keeping oneself clean is foremost in respecting another, for if you do not respect yourself, you cannot respect others.
Clothes and Equipment: He wields the mighty sword White Fang, a Frost-Enchanted Sword he took from the lifeless corpse of a White Witch whom had promised him the sword, then tried to kill him with. The sword, imbued with the blood of the witch, gives him abilities similar to hers, mainly focusing on cold and frost related abilities. His legs are covered by plate armor, and his left arm is covered in a gauntlet with fingers ending in wicked looking claws. The gauntlet is inscribed with more Frost Runes, giving it similar, albeit less powerful, abilities to White Fang.
Registered: May 30, 2016 8:38:38 GMT -8
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Post by Fenrir Skargard on Mar 26, 2017 11:44:00 GMT -8
His sword was held at the ready, knowing what came next. His flesh body would be torn to shreds and he would be revived, minus a soul. He closed his eyes, waiting for oblivion, only to reopen them and find nothing there. Fenrir sheathed his sword, looking around rather confusedly.
"Great, now I am hallucinating things..." he looked at the ring and shrugged. Fucking magic. He should have never messed with it in the first place all those years ago.
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Deleted
Roleplay posts: 0
Registered: Nov 21, 2024 4:14:42 GMT -8
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Post by Deleted on Mar 27, 2017 12:54:02 GMT -8
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK --
-- it came upon the door of his hotel room.
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Fenrir Skargard
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 196
Age: 29
Physical Description: Fenrir is a large Arctic Werewolf, with fur as white as the snow that plagues his habitat. His paws and muzzle are stained a slight pinkish color from the bloody nature of his food, primarily Caribou and Mountain Seal. His yellow eyes are predatory, and would be terrifying to see in the darkness of a cave or blizzard. He stands roughly 7ft tall, and weighs nearly 300lbs. His fur, claws, and teeth are immaculately well-maintained, as the Wolf believes that keeping oneself clean is foremost in respecting another, for if you do not respect yourself, you cannot respect others.
Clothes and Equipment: He wields the mighty sword White Fang, a Frost-Enchanted Sword he took from the lifeless corpse of a White Witch whom had promised him the sword, then tried to kill him with. The sword, imbued with the blood of the witch, gives him abilities similar to hers, mainly focusing on cold and frost related abilities. His legs are covered by plate armor, and his left arm is covered in a gauntlet with fingers ending in wicked looking claws. The gauntlet is inscribed with more Frost Runes, giving it similar, albeit less powerful, abilities to White Fang.
Registered: May 30, 2016 8:38:38 GMT -8
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Post by Fenrir Skargard on Mar 30, 2017 12:51:52 GMT -8
"Great." The wolf muttered, sheathing his sword and walking to the door, opening it open just enough that he could see out of it.
"What?" He said gruffly.
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Deleted
Roleplay posts: 0
Registered: Nov 21, 2024 4:14:42 GMT -8
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Post by Deleted on Apr 3, 2017 14:59:05 GMT -8
As soon as he touched the handle, jerking the door open, ice began to form all over the handle, and it raced up the door just as it raced down, freezing the ground, crawling up the legs of the man outside the door.
The power of the ring surged through his arm, frosting in his blood, storming like a blizzard in his heart and his head and the quiet, feminine laughter of the Frost Queen could be heard.
But was it in his head? Or was it real?
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