Journal of a Wolf

AN

Ok so, well here this is. I am Kinnix Wolf, the dude that character Wolf in Full Metal Oddish's story Staying Home was loosely based off of, more of the creator of the character that the Wolf in Staying Home was based off of. I thought to myself, hmm I like the way she made Wolf's story come out, but I want to go back further and maybe just maybe, I could expand on that. Now Wolf has many forms, most of the fics I write and discard have a main character that starts as Wolf, then evolves later into a different name for the main character once I determine what a good name would be. But here I thought, I have a character with a fairly loosely defined backstory and an excellent chance to expand on that. Maybe bring some depth for Wolf, or maybe just to give me a chance to help develop characters a bit better than I already can. I'm not sure if people will like this idea, or if anyone will actually care, but hell, why not.

So this is Wolf, the story of him, told by Wolf himself.

Cheers guys hope you like it.

Kinnix Wolf.

I literally own so little of this, it isn't even funny, whatever isn't owned by Nintendo or Full Metal Oddish, is either owned by me, or is somehow owned by something else.

So, I guess I'm doing this. I'm not one for writing much or actually talking about the past, but they say that either talking about it or writing it down helps you deal with the shit you have done in the past, so here I am.

Honestly I don't know where to really start, so I guess I should start at the beginning, because that way I won't miss anything.

I was born in a small village in Palrola, a small kingdom next to the sea, to a blacksmith and his wife. My parents were good people, and they raised me well. My father taught me that nothing can happen in life unless you want to get up and do it yourself, and my mother taught me that not everyone follows the same set of rules we do, and that not always can you follow all the rules to do what is right. My father taught me everything he knew about blacksmithing, as well as everything he knew in general. So by my 17th age day, I was strong man who knew a lot about many things, and one who saw everything as being black and white.

When war came to my land, I told my parents goodbye and joined the army with my best friend, Tyr. I fought better than most of the others, filled with such ideas as that our cause was just and that we were the good guys fighting the evil of the enemy. I was so good at killing that after three battles I became a member of the personal guard for a colonel, who was quite close to the general of the entire army, himself.

What I saw and what I did then brings shame to my mind even today. We were butchers; we slaughtered entire villages simply because they would not give themselves into near slavery. We hunted any who ran and continued to push deeper into the enemy's land, getting ever closer to their capital city. It was around then when I had reached my lowest. After listening to the colonel talking about how we provoked the war and how he would probably be made a baron after this, I'd had enough.

So I went out and sought out anyone I could trust, and I found someone: My old friend Tyr, in charge of a squad of soldiers. We talked long into the night. I told him all of my suspicions and all the facts I had found. I told him everything, and he seemed to agree. So we came up with a plan to seize control of the army and return home, to seek answers as to how this happened. When I left, I was convinced that I had done the right thing, but I hadn't.

The next morning, I was given orders to meet up with Tyr behind enemy lines to attack an enemy stockpile and claim it for our army. When I got there, I found a group of soldiers with blades in hand, and Tyr with shiny new ranks on his uniform. He sold me out to get promoted, and then he was ordered to kill me. I pleaded with him, but from the moment I got there I knew it was too late: He was totally corrupted, a zealot to the fancy ideals that we were told. But by the end of the day, there was no one standing but me. Over thirty soldiers I killed, and a friend.

I knew I couldn't go home; I was a traitor. They would hunt me and haul me back to be executed. So I took a horse and whatever else I could find and rode for the nearest coast, throwing away my uniform and replacing it with something a bit more commonplace. I boarded the first ship that took me and sailed to this continent. I was 18 and I had no way to support myself, so I did what I had to: I became a mercenary.

I fought for many causes, for kings' ransoms and pittances. I always traveled, never stopping, I never saw the need to stop. I was always running, but from what? The past, I guess. And it never caught up with me. I saw a million faces, and I saw a million more. I broke a lot of hearts, but I never stopped running. I started to stop being so picky about jobs, seeing them as mere opportunities to get money for drinking and to find new gear. That all changed when I was, hell, twenty-nine, thirty… probably thirty.

I was near Hyrule, some small village with a nice, clean bar and a little work. Some sort of crossroads, I guess. I can hardly remember what the place was like. Hell, other than the bar and my room, I'm fairly sure I can't recall any of it.

I had just gotten back from killing a group of bandits that had been robbing caravans and farms in the area. Twelve untrained men- barely men... more like boys, with crude weapons and little idea as to how to use them. I was thirsty. I always was, didn't matter what I had done, I nearly always needed a drink.

I walked into the bar and barely noticed anything but a girl. Sthe couldn't have been more than eighteen, maybe seventeen, drinking like an old merc like me. An aura of sadness and fatigue. She was sitting in a corner downing stuff that even I can barely stand; I prefer something with a bit more flavor than pure fire. Her clothes and gear marked her as a merc, but her manner and her eyes, when she looked at me, of course, showed a completely different story.

My thirst just vanished. I felt something I hadn't felt in many a year- compassion. I wanted to help her through whatever she was dealing with and teach her what she needed to know. I thought she was an untrained girl who thought this would be a grand life of adventure and riches. So I sat down, right across from her and asked what her name was.

She told me to go to hell, so I told her I had already been there and got bored and came back, which got her attention. Stories had been circulating about what I really was... some said a demon, some said a fallen servant of the goddesses, come to seek revenge on those who brought ruin to the land. And others said I was a man, who had died and gone to hell, fought my way out and emerged the best warrior in all the land. That was one of the more popular ones, and when she found out the story was about me, she became quite talkative. It was kind of cute seeing her like that, but also kind of scary.

I told her about a lot of things and took her under my wing. We walked the wilds together and we fought man and monster alike. We were an unstoppable duo; she helped me deal with my drinking problems, and I helped her with her father issues. Even through all the shit she had been through, hell, she was stronger than me. Fairly early on I wound up holding a knife in my hand, fully intending on plunging it into my chest. As far as I know, she never got that far... she always had something more to live for.

A few years before the "Twilight War", or whatever they call it, I got an offer that I couldn't refuse, an expedition looking for a city lost to a dragon. There was only one spot left, and I wouldn't let Ashei come. I told her to go home, find someone and forget the past, make her own path, don't let what happened a long time ago rule her life. I gave her my cards. I fully intended to follow traditions that I had followed when I was in the army; you get rid of dice, playing cards, any objects of gambling, lest the gods choose that as the last battle you gamble with, and bring you to the next life.

Hell, that kid... I can't help but think of her that way; she is one of the few things I have ever seen that was good. She was a light shining in the darkness, and by the gods, did she light the way. She could carve out a spot in history if she wanted to, but I think she was content to simply sit in the back and live her life. Almost wish I could have done that, but you can't change your life; you can only live it.

Maybe you can repay past sins, or maybe you're doomed to suffer for what you do in your life. Either way, it's my life, and I will live it the way I want to live it. No one can live it for me, and at the end of the day, if I can sleep at night, then that's all that matters.

This seems to be working. I feel lighter now. I guess putting this down to paper really helped. Hell, I guess if I have any nightmares or dreams about stuff that happened in the past, I will write about that as well. My life has been a long one. I've lived it well, doing what I can, and ignoring the rest. Looks like they want me to be a knight. Hell, as long as I don't have to put on airs like some stuck up bitch, I think I can handle being a knight.

AN

Well, that's the end of the first chapter. If this goes over well and people like it, then I guess I will write more chapters. I just wanted to outline some stuff about Wolf that I for one thought should be said. And maybe who knows, this turns into a regular series I post. I for one love Staying Home, so I thought that maybe I could add to it, give it something a bit more, and maybe just maybe, give Wolf a more fleshed out backstory. Because when Fullmetal asked me about a back story, or I asked her if there would be one; one of those two, I just made up most of that on the spot, with some variations, and that became the backstory. So I guess this is me just adding to that.

Cheers guys.

Kinnix Wolf