Yes this is gonna be a very short intro but i promise there is a lot more to come. This is just a little intro into why he is the way he is. If you haven't guessed WHO it is you will know by the end. Comment, Review, Etc. Never Forget There's Always More Than Meets The Eye. LittlEm
There was always something wrong with me.
From the day I could understand the words that were spoken to me by every single person who appeared around me I knew that there had to be something wrong with me.
Like a fault in a machine, a broken piece in a sculpture, a puzzle with parts missing.
I was everything my parents loathed from the day I came into the world. They told me this fact repeatedly, day after day from the moment I was born. My parents never really named me because they never wanted to treat me as if I belonged to them. I was simply something that happened was never to be spoke of.
My mother said when I was born there was a slight glint in my eye that shook her through and through as though there were a monster inside me waiting to release itself upon the world.
The insanity, malice and hunger so deep within my body that it was going to end the people around me. Why my mother didn't kill me moments after she saw that would forever plague my mind. However I'm not one to complain really. I benefited from her decision lapse.
I was a child with an insatiable hunger for everything around him. A lust for knowledge, flesh, tastes. Touch. I was the curious type of child who'd put anything in his mouth he could just to see how it tasted.
Everything ended up in my mouth.
That or I ended up killing it just to see what it looked like inside.
The way the creature was formed and where its organs were placed. Watching with twisted excitement as the bloody started to spurt out, covering my hands and clothes in the crimson liquid, the last taste of it on my lips. Tearing the animals inside out and feeling the organs in my hands, the indescribable feeling of having a heart in my hand, a heart that could have still been beating. Was it not for my thirst for knowledge? My eyes not moving from the blood still falling off of it, entranced by how it drips.
Maybe it was my insatiable love for blood that made me what I am today . . .
Or maybe it was because my mother had regretted to tell my father during her pregnancy she'd had a run in with a werewolf. He'd seen she was pregnant, weak and had gone for her like a true animal. My mother had 'fought' with him as best she could but he'd bitten her…
my father being a true man hadn't noticed that she'd worn scarves until the scar healed. Though confused as to why she had not been infected. Obviously that was until my birth.
The werewolf had infected me. A new breed born, though I still depended heavily on the moonlight, it did not have to be a full moon for me. A mutation meant I could come and go as I pleased. Though as I child I did not understand why a certain time I was chained up and locked in the cellar.
Give a tortured childhood to really make a monster insane.
Well-done parents. You have created a monster. You have cursed and taken advantage of the fragility of the mind and that of a child. You have destroyed a pure object.
What do I care really? I grew up to be infamous, a threat to people everywhere. I gave myself a name. I knew what I was. So I read up on my 'condition'.
My name became Fenrir Greyback, but I was not insane for a substantial part of my life… all due to one person…Ardelania Hartia [pronounce Harsh-ee-a]