[i]The man grunts. Then chuckles. Then he lets out a laugh. He looks up at Lucien, smiling.[/i] "[b]You're a rather pretentious prick, aren't you? You sit on that rock, cleaning your blade, which is, mind you, fine. But when someone walks up and sits to your side, you feel fit to judge him based on a factor of himself that has as little significance as an involuntary action of his body?[/b]" [i]He shakes his head, still smiling.[/i] "[b]As for whether or not you're the 'villain' and I'm the 'glorious hero,'[/b]" [i]He says sarcastically, using the quote unquote gesture.[/i] "[b]I just met you. I know nothing about you. It's snowing, and I'm wandering the woods when I find a man, sitting alone, cleaning his sword. So, I sit next to him, wishing to share his camp and company for a time. So malicious, isn't it?[/b]" [spoiler]Keep in mind he merely sensed Lucien in his Angel form on the day of the invasion. He doesn't know that that presence and this man are one and the same.[/spoiler]

"You call me pretentious, yet you return an old man's meanderings with such sarcasm and bravado. 'Twas but the mind merely wandering an endless amount of possibilities. If I offended you, I apologize. The habits and overall mannerisms of this place has conditioned me to such pride. I meant no harm." Lucien still does not bother to look up as he was quite invested in polishing his blade, but his tone remained neutral to clear any hostility up to the man. Not out of fear, but out of the rationality to not incur any conflict. He had no time for such a trivial thing at the moment. "Are you a swordsman yourself? If so, care to join me for some downtime maintenance? I always find it astounding how everybody here has a 'legendary unbreakable blade that need not any sharpening' and their lack of knowledge in using such a weapon. Maintenance teaches discipline. And with such care for one's weapon comes a grudging respect for it."

[i]Fenrir's smile remained as he extended his left hand, a ball of blue fire coalescing there. It elongates into the hilt, guard and blade of a massive greatsword. It has runes etched into the blades midsection. His other hand is coated in the same blue flame.[/i] "[b]I simply grow angry when others presume my motivations, my demons, or my goals. Also, my apologies, but I [i]do[/i] wield such a blade. It has been with me...since before I was what I am. It was there with me when I became that which I am.[/b]" [i]His smile had dropped since he began to reminisce. He trailed off, lost in thought and memory, but then shook his head.[/i] "[b]My apologies. As for your questioning of my attitude, at my age, I feel I have earned the right to that. I've done enough, seen enough, and experienced enough to be able to speak my mind.[/b]" [i]He procured from the inner pocket of his jacket a leather bag. From it, he took a whetstone and some honing oil.[/i] "[b]However, unbreakable does not mean ageless and forever sharp. I still need to take time and burn out the imperfections, sharpen the blade. Much like myself, I would think.[/b]"

"Quite right. Thinking of a weapon objectively is much too simple - it is almost as if one's weapon is alive as you are..." Something was strange when he said that. He was referring to himself, but there was something in his tone that implied a separate context. "How about we do as old men should do then. A story, perhaps? A good story is a good exchange of words as a fight is to the best form of acquaintance. But I do believe that neither of us here would like to disturb the silence of the woods. Moments of peace like this one must enjoy. So would you indulge me, mysterious warrior? Tell me a story and I shall tell you one of my own."

[i]Fenrir nodded, as he pursued an appropriate story. His hands worked mindlessly as he thought, wetting a rag cloth with honing oil, then coating the whetstone. The rag and the oil were then placed in a stable position to his right, before he took up the sword in his left hand and the whetstone in his right hand. As he set the stone to the blade and drew it down the ancient age. At first, the noise produced was irregular, as the Wolf hadn't done this in some time. However, soon the the sharpening fell into a grating rhythm, a pulse that seemingly reverberated with the forest around them, and the snow falling down to them. A glove of blue flame enveloped his right hand and the stone, burning away the imperfections and dullness of the blade. He closed his eyes, lost deep in his thoughts, his breathing matching the rhythm as well. After a time, when it seemed he would not oblige the man, he began to speak, his words coming out to fit the music of the blade and stone.[/i] "[b]Once, in a time and place long since passed now, there lived five young orphan boys, bound by fate. They were a motley group, one that shouldn't have survived in this world of magic, monsters, men, and wars. But they were loyal, earnest, and true to each other. So this Pack survived, though the Wolves should have torn each other apart. The Pack was headed by the Alpha, a boy of great skill, speed, and ambition. He led them in their training, keeping them together even when it seemed they would be sundered. As they grew up, raised into the military and rising to prominence, he still managed to keep them together, united by a bond stronger then blood. He was the Wolf of the King. The second Wolf was the Beta, a boy of great intellect, knowledge, and strategy. He kept them organized, using each Wolf to their fullest potential in their assignments. His understanding of each Wolf's capabilities won them their prominence in war, his strategies and tactics proving a deadly weapon in the hands of the King. He was the Wolf of the East. The third Wolf was the Theta, a boy of great ingenuity, invention, and morality. He held them together in a different manner. He held them to a moral standard that ensured they would not fall to their inner demons. He had only one failure in that area of his duty. His machines and innovations propelled the kingdom far in their reach. He was the Wolf of the South. The fourth Wolf was the Sigma, a boy of great magic, wonder, and cunning. He ensured their favor among the pantheons of beings who presumed to call themselves gods. His spells and works were never repeated or replicated, and his natural affinity garnered him a following among the cadre of High Mages. He was the Wolf of the West. The final Wolf was the Omega, a boy of great strength, ability, and rage. He was their bastion, their hold against the night and its monsters when all others fell. He was the closest to the Alpha, their dualities complimenting each other. His reckless endangerment of himself to protect the Pack and the kingdom gained him great infamy. He was the Wolf of the North.[/b]" [i]Fenrir paused, allowing the old man to gather his thoughts as he worked on his blade. He waited for a response, or a silence to allow him to continue, as the rhythm beat on.[/i] [spoiler]This is his canon origin, pre-FN. *sarcastically spoken* Bet you can't guess which Wolf he is.[/spoiler]

[i]North, south, east, west... Memorize every feature. Remember to make notes later on compendium.[/i] Lucien's attention was solely focused on Fenrir's story. So focused in fact, he was processing the data given to him unintentionally out of pure habit: a sign of his full focus. "What happened to these wolves next?"

"[b]They grew up...[/b]" [i]He muttered to himself, a sad smile playing his lips. For a moment, he stops, and the rhythm pauses. Then he shakes his head, resuming the beat of the forest and getting in tuned once more. He waited a few more seconds, then began again.[/i] "[b]The King quickly recognized the boys potential, noting especially the prowess and ability of the Alpha. He recognized it, and understood the danger that it posed. He did as any King would do, and separated them, sending each to a different region to keep their influence limited. He also worried about the king of Dwarves, whose kingdom was within the mountain border of the Kingdom. The two nations worked together, and the dwarves built much of the Kingdom, wishing only for protection. As the Wolves influence delved into the Dwarves forces, their King pressured for further restriction of these warriors. Thus, their separation was made permanent, and given more enforcement. However, this proved to be a mistake, as separate, they gathered more followers than they ever could have if together. They also disregarded orders when called for by their brothers. They would abandon their post, their mission, their duty, and they would face the punishments upon their successful return. And they [i]always[/i] returned successfully. Their legends grew as the respect others had for them did, and they quickly garnered followings within their respective regions. These followings quickly became loyal factions, and their military prowess earned each promotions, until they headed their armies. It was then the King allowed to them specific positions, deeming them 'his' Wolves. Alpha had had the most difficulty advancing, as he was in the Capital, next to the King. However, his ambition won through, until he had climbed up to the General of Armies, a position only surpassed by the King himself. As such, for Alpha, the newly formed position was a demotion, and an insult. The others remained oblivious to this, constantly warring with the neighboring nations and darker threats. To the North were the Savages, men of great strength and durability, wild in their combat and frenzied in their attacks. To the East lay the lands of the Vorstaat, a race of beings corrupted by dark magic and brutal culture into things more beast then man. To the West were the Elves, Fallen angels who had cast their lot with neutrality in the Fall, and lost their wings forthwith. These were fierce enemies, to be sure, but the hardest to rile up into War. To the South lay the other Kingdoms of man, constantly warring among themselves. However, when they joined efforts, they were a force to be reckoned with. The worst threat, though, came from within. Rising as the Wolves did, the Cult of the Melkorian Star rose, pronouncing the Wolves the heralds of the End. They worked in secret, gathering Armies, from the military and the civilian populous alike. These were the foes of the Alpha, and their struggle was mighty indeed, with purges and inquisitions wreaking havoc on the peasantry. This Cult was dangerous, mostly because they displayed an affinity to group multiple peoples together. Cultures and hatreds, religions and rivalries fell, as they united anyone and everyone, secretly. As such, they were fought the hardest, trying to keep them contained and away from the enemies. However, it was inevitable. A sect of mages within the Cult journeyed North, up to the Temple of the Frost, a shrine constructed by the Vorstaat to their dark deity and their only presence in the North. There, they performed a ritual, opening the gates to Hell and unleashing it on Earth. Back in the Kingdom, they pulled taut their web, raising the enemies at the borders in unison. These enemies were stayed only through the valiance of the Armies and the Wolves, their own disunion working against them as they clashed with the singular entity of the Kingdoms Army. As the enemy gathered, the Cult struck heavily, riots springing up to distract the Central Army and prevent reinforcements from bolstering the other Armies. This continued for years as Hell gathered to strike. The North fell with the arrival of the forces of Hell. Omega stood against the tide of demons and monsters, holding off as best he could, but he was overwhelmed. His last act was to order a full retreat of his Army, sending them to bolster the Central Army, even as the others did the same. The Capital would make or break the Kingdom. It was in the city of the Throne that their Fate would be decided. For a month more they held, though wearily. Street by street, they were pushed back, until they were within the walls of the citadel itself. It was then that Sigma used his last ditch effort, at the behest of Alpha, using a dark magic. He tore from the demons their own energy, ripping out the literal life-force of Hell from them. The Vorstaat mages, the elves, the Savage Priests, and the southern Mages, also, were ripped apart as their magic was taken. Sigma prepared his own life, as this would most assuredly kill him as well. He focused the energy onto the enemy forces, ready to obliterate them, and released. However, nothing happened. No, that wasn't true. Something had happened, something he hadn't noticed in his concentration on controlling the power. The target had been...[i]shifted[/i]? With a surge, the energy rushed into the being who had orchestrated this entire thing, who had headed the Cult, gathered the enemies, and sent the sect of Cult mages to the North. The collective energies of five legions of Hell, and the Mages of all the enemy forces now resided within one man. The Alpha. In the moment of casting, he had used his magic, minimal though it was, to shape it a little differently. And now, now the Alpha was the single most powerful being that walked the Earth. However, this wasn't the end. Even as the Alpha seized the Kingdom, the Armies, the Enemies, and the peoples under an iron grasp, the Wolves still stood. Rumors spread of the Wrath of the North, a force against which, the reinforcements from Hell were shattering. Quickly, the remaining forces of Man moved to the North. The Alpha quickly turned his gaze there, organizing his now vast forces to assault this new threat. As the Wolves arrived, they found both dwarves and men. These were outmatched by the Alpha 10 to 1, but still they fought, and more dissenters worked the courage to journey there each day. Unfortunately, Theta was captured, and as Alpha still considered him a friend, he was kept, as something of a pet. In a fit of madness at his failure in keeping their nature's true, Theta tried to kill Alpha with a bomb he had constructed, but only killed himself, Alpha's newfound power keeping him alive. The last Wolf, Beta, successfully managed to travel to the North, joining the Wrath there and merging it's forces and his. As he arrived, he quickly found the figure around which they had gathered. A sort of pilgrimage began then, a quest to close the gates, which they hoped would shut off the majority of Alpha's new power. Even then, with them putting constant distance between them and gaining more men each day, they were caught on a frozen plane near the Temple. The Alpha met them in battle, and when challenged by Beta, immediately killed him with a blast of power. It was then that the Wrath of the North was revealed. The Omega. In his dying, he had been saved as the Hellspawn passed, retrieved and healed by dwarves under spells of invisibility. He had been imbued with magic that he would survive, and those same mages now gathered their own magics to enact the final plan of the Beta. In the final days before the confrontation, the Wolves concluded one thing. The World was doomed. The Gates, according to lore, could not be closed, and Hell would overcome the Earth. Ironically, the fiction of the Alpha's cult proved to ultimately true. As such, they decided to settle with sealing it by destroying the universe. The Mages used the light version of Sigma's final spell, all the forces of the North except for the Omega volunteering the lives to the spell. This power was granted to the Wrath of the North, and as all the others faded, he fought. He slaughtered the Alpha's Army, drawing in their energy, until he stood on par with his old friend. The two stood in silence, staring at each other. 'Why, Vrael?' Said the Alpha. His voice was genuinely sad, and his mind overrun by memory. '[i]Why?! You slaughter our men, destroy our King and Kingdom, and become the Herald of Hell, and you have the audacity to ask WHY?! Cecil, you did this yourself, and you WILL pay, the World be d*mned![/i]' Was the Omega's only retort. Their struggle was Titanic, shaking the foundations of the Earth, and rupturing its surface. Neither could gain an upper hand, even as the sky sundered and the Gate of Hell expelled more and more of it's forces, who were quickly consumed and converted into energy for either of the Wolves.[/b] [spoiler]Part 1/2[/spoiler]