TinkeringTurian
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Fenrir's character sheet & mini-update
🕑 Added 2018-11-15 08:03:49 +0000 UTC Here's the second monthly character sheet, this time for Fenrir, the wolf! This sheet goes accompanied with a rather long story, which you can find down below. This sheet, along with an NSFW version of both the sheet and the story can be found on the website over at http://www.koboldadventure.com/charsheet/index.htmlOntop of this character sheet, new art has been added to the basilisk scene in the cave. Eight pictures total, with even more being made! The version number has been updated to 2.395 (Fenrirsheet). Anyway, without further ado, here's the safe for work version of Fenrir's background story! Beware, spoilers ahead.
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Part one: home, sweet home
Fenrir Greyfur is a big, bad wolf, who may end up capturing, spanking, and even enslaving the kobold, depending on your choices. A scoundrel through-and-through, he's no stranger to fighting and brawling. With years of fighting experience, his strong arms and heavy mace can make short work of anyone who stands in his way, although he's starting to grow old, and his reflexes aren't as sharp as they used to be.
Fenrir was born to a pair of canine parents in the small town of Furskin, located in a mountain-range far northeast of Varanar, past the vast forest surrounding half of the city. It is here, that the river which flows through the human capital originates from, and it is here that the wolf's tale begins.
Being smugglers, Fenrir's parents never had much time on their hands to look after their only child. They were always busy running wares in and out of town, meeting with shady characters and dealing in illicit goods. Since his mom and dad were never around, the canine looked towards the neighbours whenever he needed help. But going door to door, he soon found out that most members of the tight-knit community were veryreluctant to lend a hand. The reputation of his mother and father preceded him, and everywhere the little boy went, he was blamed for their actions.
Only one family took pity on the grey-furred whelp. A small band of humans, not necessarily blood-related, squatting in an abandoned house on the outskirts of Furskin. Being rejects and runaways themselves, they knew how tough it was to grow up alone and with nobody around. They gave him some warm food, and a place to stay during the lonely nights that his parents were gone. He slept downstairs, with the feral dog they kept, but it was still warmer and more comfortable than sleeping alone in his empty home.
Over the course of several weeks, Fenrir grew close to one of the boys staying with the group of exiles. A dapper human chap named Erik, who had lost his parents. Master of Rex, the dog, the only one he had left. He reminded the wolf of himself, and Erik's positive outlook always brightened the canine's day. They became best friends, and together, they braved the perils of the small town. They scaled buildings, explored alleyways, held mock sword-fights with sticks, and teased the local girls. It felt great, having someone to talk to, someone to confide in, someone who was there for him. All was well, for the few months that the presence of the disparate outsiders was tolerated.
But then, one night that his parents were home, one of the castaways was caught stealing. An angry mob formed in the middle of the town. The people of Furskin were done abiding the outsiders' presence. While Fenrir slept soundly in his own bed, his sanctuary away from home was burned to the ground. His only friends, including Erik, were driven far away, never to return. Come morning, the canine's mother and father were off to run their latest batch of illegal wares, and he was left alone to discover what had transpired over the night. Once more, he was forsaken.
Back to begging the neighbours for help. Back to being ridiculed and demeaned. Treated like a hellspawn, discriminated against because of the sins of his parents. Constantly being treated as a pariah, and an outcast, the wolf's once-cheerful, naive demeanour soon deteriorated. He grew bitter, and resentful towards the other people living in Furskin. Being denied the love and care that every child should be entitled to, the young rascal learned to fend for himself the hard way. Going hungry taught him to steal. Getting caught taught him to fight. Losing fights, he learned to take a blow and come out swinging.
Part two: the boy becomes a man
Growing into puberty, Fenrir had become a fully-fledged ruffian, muscling local merchants out of food and money, threatening to kick their asses and trash their stores unless they gave him what he wanted. What was more valuable, those few coins and the couple of fruits and pieces of meat he demanded, or their entire shop and every bone in their body? Most saw reason, and relented to the young canine's demands. Others needed a bit more persuasion before giving in.
As his body matured, the teenaged thug had several flings with local girls. Some dates had happy endings, others did not go over well. While the sparse, infrequent company did little to alleviate the crushing loneliness that weighed the canine down, at least things were better now than they were when he was still a whelp. Being able to take what he wanted, instead of having to beg for it, allowed the wolf to lead a decent life for several years on end. Luxuries were few and sparse, but he had all he needed, and he could always wrestle a pint or two out of the local barkeep when feeling down.
Part three: father
All of this changed, when one fateful day, a smuggling run went awry, and Fenrir's dad was killed by a rival gang. His mother came home, wounded and devastated. He tended to her, consoled her. She needed help, not only to dress her wounds, but to continue the smuggling business. A few more runs, and then she'd be set to retire.
He couldn't turn his own mom down. And thus, the canine succeeded his father. Roped into the smuggling business, he ran a few carriages of an exotic drug imported from the east, transporting it from Furskin to a town in the Dragon Empire down south. The guy he delivered it to insisted he had a taste of the stuff, claiming it was customary, to ensure it wasn't poisoned or otherwise tampered with along the way. One snort was all it took for Fenrir to get hooked.
A few more runs turned into an entire year of smuggling. The more product he helped himself to, the less he was paid. In between deliveries, he stopped by his mother's place, to keep her company. Although her body had healed, she wasn't interested in picking up her old ways. The death of her husband scared her away from a life of crime. That, and something else.
A girl in the village was pregnant. Fenrir was going to be a father...and she was going to be a grandmother. Upon hearing those words, a spark lit up in her son's drug-glazed eyes. The wolf underneath the mind-numbing substances began to surface. He quit being a smuggler. They had enough money to last themselves for a while, and then they'd see what happened. Slowly, but surely, he built down his drug usage, his appetite for narcotics shrinking along with his hidden stash. By the time the baby was born, he was clean. Sober. A new man. A father.
Part four: more to life
Coasting along on the money made from smuggling, the lupine, the girl he knocked up, his mother, and their child lived happily for the better half of a decade. He raised his son, teaching the little pup how to walk, talk, climb, fish, run and even fight. That last part was especially needed, since the rascal couldn't keep his hands to himself, always stealing things and getting into trouble. Just like his old man, back in the day.
Fenrir did some odd jobs here and there. He spent some time working as a lumberjack, a miner, a bartender and even a construction worker, but the paltry sums he made were nothing compared to what even a single run used to net him. There was always the urge to return to his old ways, but he vowed to stay away from the stuff that had almost ruined him. While spending time with his son was nice, this simple life was not cut out for him. He needed to do something more exciting. He had to feel alive, instead of being stuck in some small, dreary town where hardly anything ever happened.
Leaving his birthplace behind, the wolf found the one profession that'd add some thrill to his life, while still being legal. He became a wandering bounty hunter, wielding a heavy mace, passed down to him from his father, to spread justice across the land. He solely tracked down criminals and fugitives, trying to make up for his own wrongdoings. But all too soon, he realized that many of the people he hunted, were a spitting image of himself when he was younger. Boys and girls, with nothing to lose, whose only options were to steal, to rob or to kill to survive. It was all they knew. And once upon a time, it was all Fenrir knew as well. He understood what it was like, so he could not take them in.
Refusing to arrest many of his quarries, the canine's rising fame as an up-and-coming bounty hunter was all but swept away under the rug, his good name tarnished by his compassion for petty criminals. Instead of getting to chase after bandits, Fenrir was reduced to tracking down missing people. But it wasn't the same. Finding someone was a far cry away from fighting and catching outlaws. Half of the time, they'd gone missing in the woods, or they'd taken a wrong turn and ended up in another town. Hardly exciting, to track down people who aren't trying to hide. Eventually, he gave up, and began to roam the lands without reason or cause.
Once more, the lupine turned to booze, to ease his conflicted mind, and to spice up his life a little. He rarely stuck around in one place for more than a few nights, although there was one quaint little village he spent a year or two in, working for a noble lady with a lot of money to her name. Tending to triplets. They treated him like family. It felt nice, to live a life of luxury, for a while. But his wanderlust had not yet been sated. Eventually, he ventured out once more.
Part five: a forgotten friend
Laying low for a while, Fenrir's name had all but been forgotten. As far as the world was concerned, the old him, the one that screwed up job after job, had vanished. He could start anew. A second chance at becoming a proper bounty hunter. And this time, he wasn't going to let his feelings get in the way. His first mark: a human at the head of a small gang, robbing trade caravans near his home town. Wanted dead, not alive. The canine hadn't seen his own son in years. A perfect opportunity.
The wolf infiltrated the bandits' camp. He found the tent of their leader. Readying his mace, he prepared to strike the slumbering human. Suddenly, a noise. Growling. A dog. Fenrir didn't even have to turn his head. He could smell it. A familiar scent. Rex?
Erik. He'd been sent to kill his old best friend. Even the dog that he used to sleep with was still around. The beast must have been at least thirty years old by now. Impressive. He couldn't do it. They were friends. The wolf put aside his mace, gave the dog a few pats, and curled up beside it, like the good old days. Like the way things used to be. Everything was so much simpler back then. Slowly, but surely, he drifted into an uncomfortable sleep, dreaming of his childhood.
Awakening with half a dozen swords aimed at his throat, Fenrir awkwardly explained who he was. It took a bit of convincing, but ultimately Erik believed his tale. His identity made clear, the canine was greeted with open arms. Over food and drinks, the human and him shared half a lifetime worth of tales and exploits. At the end of a long, wild night, a proposition was made. If he joined the gang, he wouldn't have to start at the bottom. He could lead it, together with the human. Or, he could do what he was sent there to do, and they could have one of those mock swordfights they used to have, only this time, for real. The choice was his.
If Fenrir wanted to kill Erik, he'd have caved the bandit's skull in while he slept. Likewise, if Erik wanted Fenrir dead, the bounty hunter's throat would have been cut open before he awoke. So fighting was out of the question. If the wolf left empty-handed, he'd be right back to looking for lost kids in the woods. That wasn't an option either. He'd been down that hole, never again. So, he did the only thing he could. He took the offer. He became the co-leader of the Furskin Mountain-Crew. Not the most original of names, but it left little to the imagination.
Part six: the old guard
Over the years, the Furskin Mountain-Crew, along with their new leader, raided caravans and extorted small business all over the countryside. Fenrir felt like he was young again. For the first time in ages, he felt truly alive. Gone were the lonely days of old. His gangmembers, while technically his subordinates, grew to be his friends.
They pillaged, plundered and kidnapped their way throughout the land, ransoming the few wenches unlucky enough to fall into their clutches back for moderate sums of money. They weren't in it for the gold. They did this for fun. Sure, they needed money for food and supplies and to keep everyone moderately happy, but to Erik and Fenrir, this was just them having a good time together. This was the ideal life, for both of them. Chasing risks, getting into brawls, constantly being in danger. They were similar, in that regard. Both rebels, born to live and die as free men.
Slowly, but steadily, an unfamiliar urge grew inside of the wolf. His wanderlust was fading. Fighting and robbing was fun, but he felt like he'd seen it all. He wanted to get out. To quit the gang. To stop adventuring. To settle down, be it at Furskin, in that village where the noble woman resides, or maybe even somewhere else with someone new.
But he couldn't. Criminals can't simply stop being criminals. Unless he travelled half the world away, he would never be able to return to a normal life. Bounty hunters and lawmen would trouble him until the end of his days. And if he ran away, that'd mean he'd never see his child again. No, he'd continue being a bandit. For the time being, at least. He still had a few good years in him, and a few scores to settle with the drug-runners that got him addicted a long time ago.
The Furskin Mountain-Crew couldn't last forever. Fenrir knew it, Erik knew it, heck, everyone in the camp knew it. The wolf and the human were growing old. Soft. Too gentle and kind and forgiving for this cut-throat world. While their arms were still strong, their reflexes were waning. It was only a matter of time. One of the leaders getting killed, a local lord sending an armed contingent to deal with them, a bigger gang taking notice and forcing them to join or die, all very realistic scenarios which would lead to the crew's disbandment. Some of the men wagered on what would come first. But what happened next, was something nobody could have predicted.
Part seven: a new beginning and an end
A message, from the baron of Varanar, the regent of the entire human kingdom, delivered by a group of knights massive enough to make declining his offer seem like folly. A chance at a new life. One job. All they had to do was one job, and their crimes would be forgiven. Complete amnesty, along with some hefty compensation, in return for the gang's services.
Emergency taxes were being raised, more than ever before. The populace would not stand for this. Heck, Fenrir himself was slightly disgusted when he read the numbers on the missive. The baron knew the people would not like this. They would not easily be parted from their hard-earned gold. He couldn't claim it himself. They'd fight back. Riot. Revolt. And that's where the Furskin Mountain-Crew, along with dozens of other gangs all over the kingdom came into play.
They would collect the money. Make it look like a bandit raid. Take enough valuables and gold out of town to meet the quota, put all of the loot into carriages, and deliver it to Varanar. The guards were told not to intervene. The townsfolk, while numerous, were no match for a determined group of outlaws, murderers and rapists. They took as much as they needed, and not a coin more. Fenrir didn't partake in the looting. That wasn't who he was. Not anymore, at least. Instead, he slipped off to visit his family. His son looked so much like him. The girl he fooled around with was friendly as always. She started a flower shop. And his mom, despite the passing of time having taken away much of the vibrancy of her fur, still looked as beautiful as ever.
One final trip. They headed out to meet up with the caravan master. A man of the realm, sent to oversee their operation. Bartholomew Grabgold. A real prick. He knew how to get under Fenrir's skin. Erik had to remind his partner what was at stake, more than once. If either the gold or Mister Barto did not make it back to town, they'd be hunted down and put to the sword. Even Rex, the dog, was no fan of their latest guest.
The wagons filled to the brim with gold, the group departed for Varanar. Some of the men were interested only in the monetary reward. Others, like Fenrir, wanted to use the pardon granted to quit the outlaw life. A few more spat at the idea of no longer being wanted. They couldn't imagine life without being constantly hunted. The adrenaline kept them going. The thought of not waking up in the morning drove them on, day by day.
Erik was the only one of the group which had not yet made up his mind. It was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, for sure, but he wasn't sure whether or not he was ready to leave his bandit ways behind him. While he'd never cared to admit it, he always saw Fenrir as more than just a friend. He was certain that the wolf would never reciprocate his feelings. Being in a gang together with his secret love was more than he could ever have dreamed of, but now, that was coming to an end. He needed more time to think. Hopefully, he'd have an answer once they got to Varanar. Maybe he could even muster up the courage to explain his feelings by then. But that much was still uncertain.
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A lot bigger than Seki's, but then again, Fenrir is bigger than Seki in a bunch of ways. I hope you guys enjoyed! Please do check out the NSFW version on the Kobold Adventure website, I personally think it's a bit better than this slightly altered safe for work one. Also, go check out the new pictures ingame or in the gallery.
Anyway, that's all for now. I'll be posting the NSFW picture (but not the story) for Patrons shortly. Later today, or tomorrow, I'll put up a new poll for whose sheet to make next. At that time, I'll also announce what scene'll be made next. Thank you all for your continued interest in a Kobold-leather inflatable life jacket, and I'll see you later today, or tomorrow!
Comments
It's a shame that you couldn't meet Fenrir under better circumstances, being what may lead to his crew's death or put into slavery doesn't kindle good friendships, a pint which ends in a pub fight does (if you hit whoever he's hittin')
TinkeringTurian
Did you like it?
Albert Wen
That backstory was intense.
