Name: Valtýr Killian
Strength: Stealth Killing, Speed, Eyesight, Smell, Stealth, Hearing.
Weakness: Loyalty to someone, Bloodlust, Bipolarity, Straight up Brute Combat.
Pelt Color: Black
Eye color: Red :: If it needs changed I'll be happy to do so ::
Personality: A masculine beauty. To deny the allure that accompanies the charming curl of lips on his handsome face, as well as the devilish mystery that glints in the sanguine depths of his eyes would be an impossible task, for this enticing demon is irresistible in every sense of the word. He is a child of midnight games, darting through the blackness with a camouflage that makes him nothing short of invisible. He wears a coat as black as the midnight sky, long, silken furs trailing along the contours of his tall frame. Through the shadows he drifts, ebony coat an eerie mirror of the danger that lingers within a tarnished soul. It is effortless for him, to submerge himself in the shadow and become nothing but a lost memory on the breeze. Valtyr prefers the sanctuary of solidarity, content in convincing others to believe that he is nothing short of a dream .. or perhaps a nightmare. Deep within the contours of an emotionless expression lie two unique gems, a color so unique within a monochrome world. The color of tainted blood? Perhaps the hue of a dying summer evening, a pale but powerful fire. His eyes are of maroon heritage (after his father), but are interlaced with hints of vibrant orange, making his face come alive with a haunting sort of beauty. Valtyr is a unique creature, alluring, mysterious ... perhaps even terrifying. They trifle with the beauty of a deep sunset, a beautiful collaboration of warm pinks, reds, and oranges infused. He seems to carry with him some a ghostly presence, always hungry, always searching. Always haunting.
Behold! Encased within a fledgling shell is a psyche aged like a fine wine. A patient stoic - - he is not cursed with the impulsive, choleric nature of bestial adolescents. Maturity is evident despite his youth, displayed by both word and action. He speaks with unexpected sophistication, valuing manners highly and always -no matter the situation- addressing others with a politic demeanor. Slow to anger, it is unnerving how, no matter how raged, he manages to remain completely impassive. In fact, when confronted with belligerence he simply becomes phlegmatic; mordant remarks wound him not, no matter how acerbic. Often, and by those he does not favor, he is regarded as cold.
Morality consumes him. Bound by his own promises, his word is his own law. Thus, this honest man is a trustworthy one, for he will never betray you. Honor courses through him, sheathed within his veins and beating beneath a steel chest. A chivalrous creature, he values women above all. Perhaps influenced by prodigious reverence for his sisters, he holds a vast admiration for all maidens. Despite such, he appears to be incapable of commitment and thus his romances, while remarkably lavish, are fleeting. friendships are concrete, though rare. Even then, while he rarely finds individuals he genuinely enjoys, respect is given where respect is deserved. Get don't get fooled by his romantic personality, he is an assassin, a animal, a mercenary to hire.
He is a monster. A killer, who will put a price on your life and take it, he kills for the thrill. An assassin that does what you want when you want, for the right price. And the amount of deaths is just a number, now—insignificant, cheap, a number that grows and changes daily. He can also be a liar, a master manipulator, capable of twisting people to get what he needs or wants. And although he cares, truly cares for others, he is ultimately a survivalist. He does what its necessary to keep himself alive and well.
Unfathomable is he, the reaper of bad news, the bearer of sardonic requests. A mirage of reality flickers behind emptily staring eyes, forcing you to believe in his fantasies. Everything within him, a crusted and smoldering flame, awaits for some unseen retribution. He stands tall for a male, a profound 88 inches, but his stature is not well equipped for waging wars. Lean muscle hugs tight against his bones, a stark life of lurking giving him an eerily skeletal silhouette. His years of life as a loner have hardly given him substance, his frame appearing more sickly and ghastly than much else. But perhaps for Valtyr, such an appearance only adds to his dastardly appeal .. for he is better suited for sneaking through the shadows, a slender body designed to manipulate itself through twists and turns. Something about the way he moves is eerily reminiscent of a ghost, a dark demon that forever haunts.
History – Valtyr
Valtyr is naturally mysterious, a vague thought of the history this brute has could tear the mind of the most powerful. Many rumors have been made since this stoic wolf was born. Valtyr grew up mostly on his own, as his parents had to leave him for prey when he was only 2 months old. But since then, this eerie animal has grown to be something more than what was expected of the Alpha’s child… he grew into a killer. The rumors spread as he grew closer and closer to what would become a mirage of a ghost. His muscles came to stay, only if his heart had too. Only a few days after he was abandon, the fluffy pup couldn’t fend for himself; he couldn’t even kill prey. But then the day came that his sister, Rasofiel came to help. At the time of him being a pup, Rasofiel was already a fully grown adult, taking on the ledged of a mercenary. Rasofiel trained him to be a fighter, a murderer like herself, a brute for hire only.
Now five months old, Valtyr accompanied his sister to watch her fight, Rasofiel was a dark mistress in the making. He watched her techniques and how she had no feeling after a kill, she wouldn’t even say a word before she made the other die. The things he saw were gruesome, but somehow he managed to keep a straight heart. Day after day Valtyr only grew larger, more muscular, more of a mercenary. Rasofiel watched him grow in reminiscence of her training from her father, always keeping a stray eye on him.
At a year now, Valtyr was eligible to spar with his sister, even though she was trained better than him, somehow he won most of these fights. This young brute was growing into a monster, a silent assassin that lingered in the corner of your eye, not to be seen before he struck. Rasofiel would stare at her little brother, proud of what she had turned him into. Valtyr was meant to be the peace keeper of the packs, but this was all turned around after Rasofiel trained him.
At two years this brute was a deadly shadow, waiting to strike from the undergrowth. He was a dark silhouette in the distance, only a form of ghost to most. This demon took out his first kill as his dastardly sibling watched, only seeing what she wanted from him. His form grew to be amazing, an amazing masculine sublime.
Finally, at age three this horrible creature set out on an adventure, the adventure that changed his life only more. Valtyr now has an amazing set of manners, and respect for all women. The shadow killer finally has now found somewhere he wishes to stay.
Picture(s): Profile Picture
Human or Wolf: Wolf