Lycaon Arkadios, Mercenary, A Werewolf driven by Vengence

It had been expected of course that some of Fenrir's children would spread themselves far and wide: beyond even the lands where their father fought and lost his war to Rose. Some perished at mortal hands as their brethren did, some became beasts of the wild by forsaking all contact with humanity no matter how remote. Yet still others thrived in human society: finding that there was no shortage of places that would accept their ideas of strength and pack so long as they did so in service to something that mistakenly considered itself greater.

Lycaon was born one of those children, once upon a time.

He was not of the first or even second generation of wolves begat by the great beast Fenrir. He was of the third generation but had ranged so far once he was capable of walking and sprinting that only the ever watching ravens Hugnin and Munin could've possibly thought to look for him.

He had started as a killer-for-hire, fighting to spill blood for whichever mortals promised riches and power in return. He pledged himself fully to those who bought his services. And when his contracts were up he could just as easily find himself slaughtering them without a second thought. Many mortal warriors looked down upon him and considered him inglorious or even infamous depending on whether they had survived one of his previous sojourns onto the field of battle.

But none could argue with the results of his prowess. Soon his name was whispered through all the corners of this new land. Butcher of Bronze they called him: for no matter how sturdy their armor, they always fell beneath the swings of his sword and thrusts of his spear. Bone Breaker they called him: for he would always accept unarmored challenges and let his opponents shatter against him like pottery thrown at an unyielding cliffside.

Clan Father his many children by many a woman would come to call him.

So prodigious had his lusts been that eventually he and his get claimed the name of the region for their own and so became known as Clan Arkadios. None were strong enough to contest this. They recruited and trained and rejoiced in the blood of their shared feral strength, becoming the defacto power of the nation and leading many surrounding others to fear the wrath the Hounds of Arkadia could bring down upon them.

And then Fenrir's call to arms came.

Loyal son that he was: Lycaon led his comrades and wives and sons and daughters to fight against the soldiers of the deceased Symphona's proposed replacement goddess Rose without hesitation and without so much as glancing back. His children both half-mortal and full wolf had proven a boon to their grandfather's cause. But alas, they would be rendered low not upon the glorious field of battle as they deserved: but in their beds and tents as they slept whilst dreaming of the glory that awaited them in the blood of their enemy spilled.

Lycaon even now did not know every detail of what had gone so wrong; so long had it been since that day of his clan's wholesale slaughter. But what he did know was this: his family had been betrayed by one of his many grandsons. A minor pup by the name of Leucon had led the Valkyries and their elvish allies straight to them in exchange for a promise made that he would be allowed to love an elven maiden of Ljósálfar heritage. He was of course permitted to do so, never having been told by the so-called good gods that the elven maiden in question was under no obligation to return that foolish love.

Lycaon did not know what had become of that grandson afterward, only that he disappeared from the stories humanity told of it as if to prove that the 'forces of darkness' could be relied upon to defeat themselves even in a position of strength. But what he had done was laid low. Bided his time and rebuilt his hunting instinct back to the razors edge that had made him so dangerous in one land before. Now he sought to repay the goddess and her insipid followers back by taking from them not only by , but by their own laws what they thought mere animals could never claim.

Land and power of their own.

All of these things he desired to show the strength of his blood and to purge the remaining blight upon it that his grandson Leucon represented. He would accomplish these things or he would at last be permitted to die and join his sire in the chains of eternal torment.