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Date of Birth

19 May 2007











Birth place

Western USA


100% Canis Lupus Irremotus




Current pack --
Current rank --


Pack Ranks
Cheese? (I)
Puppy, Beta, Alpha








Born Cyril Irving, he and two other siblings were raised by his maternal grandmother after being abandoned by his mother. His childhood went smoothly, just as any should, but was met with unforunate circumstances shortly before his first birthday. His grandmother -- the only mother he had ever been aware of -- had began to succumb to cancer, leaving the kin in her care to begin to fully fend and care for themselves. His siblings scattered to the winds, finding other places to make themselves useful while he remained. On her death bed, she informed him of the truth of his origins. This event had an initial impact on him, but it was only after her passing that he ventured out on his own to decide what it was he was to do.

During that time his travels brought him into a mountain valley on the brink of certain strife, and in his impressionable age he found himself largely out of place amongst the locals and other travelers. There he met a wolf who went by the name of Caligula, who readily took in and took to the young yearling that seemed so eager to learn and appease. Caligula strived to claim a mighty throne that laid atop of a mountain apart of a pass that separated but interconnected valleys, known as Nova Mountain. Through heat waves and other assorted set backs, the yearling went from being green around the edges to a well-trained, intelligent soldier, and fully embraced the goal that his esteemed leader (and then friend) had set out to seek.

The wolves beneath Caligula called themselves the Everto, and despite not being Luperci in any way -- the virus being somewhat sporadic in their isolated range -- took after man in many ways. From the structure of their ranks from the Romans, to the way they fought and spoke, all of them were highly civilized and resourceful in what they could do. Cyril's penchant for diplomacy and words left him often to venture out into the valleys he only took glimpses of, and with the others they quickly learned a lay of the land and spread their word. When he wasn't entrusted with those tasks, he spent his time in the company of Adonis Nero, another young ward in which Caligula took a hand in raising, and Caligula's own daughter Lydia, with whom Cyril had been paired with at the blessing of his leader. By summer's end, Cyril found himself as the literal right hand man to the Everto.

Towards the end of autumn, the Everto wolves made good on their word of war, invading the southern mountains and the wolves that made their stand there. Despite the efforts placed by all in the months before this battle, there was little the Everto could do to prevent their defeat. Desertion littered their ranks, and the Novian wolves had called in neighboring packs as allies to match and overpower what remained of the Everto. Caligula was slain at one point, and Cyril found himself in the foothills of the mountain slope, mangled, tattered, and without much recollection of how he had gotten from there from the cliff sides. With a broken foreleg, there was little he could do other than get away from the site before being found by those looking for remnants. Being the unlikely and unfortunate successor to the Everto, he saved himself by doing so.

One of the deserters, none other than his own mate, happened upon him some days later. While he was somewhat happy to see her, there was a certain resentment that boiled up within him. He took advantage of her and her willingness to do right by him, and began to rely on her to fend for both of them while he was more or less incapacitated. She did so without asking, even going as far as to find them a home in a less than favorable place -- one of those neighboring packs from the war. If not for a sympathetic leader and his ability to swallow his own pride, it would have been likely he would have perished during the winter. But their stay within this pack was uncomfortable, leaving them both open to attack physically and verbally, and before spring's coming Lydia abandoned him completely and for the final time.

When spring had finally come to the southern valley beneath Nova Mountain, Cyril found himself considerably weak and largely unable to fend for himself. He sought no help from the pack that had taken him in and made himself scarce, finding sustenance one way or another. What few times he did venture out he was met with great stress in the form of paranoia and fear, feeling more like prey than predator. This took root in him, shaping him permanently not to trust others. What few positive interactions he had were less than appeasing, and he eventually abandoned the pack. They were somewhat none the wiser, having known him (if not begrudging accepted) to be a wraith, a permanent bottom-feeder on the outskirts of their borders. It is believed that he died of starvation, which as far as Felniir is concerned happened. Cyril is simply no more.

Where one story ends, another begins, and what is inherently true is that Cyril nearly did succumb to starvation. Several days journey away from the entire joint valley, weakness overrode the wolf and he himself chose to quit. But be it the gods that his former leader believed in or simply luck, he was found by what would be the first Luperci he had encountered. It was nothing more than a trio of wanderers, a splinter group of a larger pack that spoke in ancient tongues and lived just as isolated as the place he had come from. They re-broke his leg in an attempt to set it right (which it did, but still leaves him with an unusual gait) and nursed him back to health. Upon his return from a comatose state, he had certainly believed he had died. This he told them, to which they understood and in turn bestowed him with the moniker that he goes by now, Felniir. Indebted to them, Felniir stayed for a couple of years, learning from them what he could and gaining what he considers a gift from them, the ability to shift.

His time outside their splintered group set him off to wander, and while he had gradually been able to block the majority of his prior life from memory, it broke through in snippets. Felniir spent the better part of the next couple of years from there venturing eastward, believing that time and distance are but the only ways to recover from a life once lived and no longer wanted.