|Date of Birth||December 15th, 2009|
|Subspecies||50% Canis lupus familiaris |
45% Canis lupis occidentalis
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Born in a snowy ditch by the Hudson Bay in January of 2010, Odysseus Argyris was found, along with his two stillborn sisters, by a husband and wife who earned a living through trading and sailing on their ship the Huntress. Anticlea and Leartes took Odysseus in, and he took to the life like a duck to water. He excelled at sailing, more and more his parents put him in charge of actually guiding the vessel. The first year of his life was spent in a happy place. But like the Odysseus of legend, the sea was no friend to this wolf. One night, whilst he was sailing the vessel close to shore, Odysseus struck upon a hidden shoal, and the ship was sunk. Anticlea and Laertes died that night, and Odysseus was washed ashore at Port Harrison.
The young wolf was taken in and cared for by the local bartender, Hector, and the two eventually fell into a relationship when Hector gave in to the love-struck Odysseus’s constant efforts. Once again, there was a period of peace. This one did not even last a year. Odysseus started digging too deep into the politics of the tiny town, and discovered to his horror that it was run by coyotes who devoured the occaisional citizen in a bizarre ritual. He was captured by the group, and jailed along with Hector. When they came to choose a victim, Hector volunteered himself so that Odysseus could escape. The vision of Hector, laid out upon a slab and cut from belly to throat still haunts Odysseus to this day.
Odysseus fled the town on stolen horses, ending up in the bleak wilderness of Northern Quebec. Happily, they strayed across the path of a travelling group of gypsy traders. Leading this group was the renowned and infamous Ivanna Volkov. Interested in Odysseus’s handsome, youthful looks, she allowed him free room and board for as long as he wanted, provided he be her lover. Odysseus thrived in the pack, who were a tapestry of different languages, breeds and origins. Some of Odysseus’s happiest memories are from this time, even as Ivanna picked and fiddled with his brain. It should be noted that the horse Odysseus rides today is the one he originally escaped Port Harrison on.
Ivanna taught Odysseus of the joy of weaving meticulous and myriad plans, of making puppets dance upon their strings at a will, and he soon became addicted. She fed him knowledge, encyclopedias of bygone days, war tactics, rulership tactics, philosophy, poetry and prose. Odysseus began to almost bristled with knowledge, and his sharp mind and skill at cheating and diversion soon earned him a black name amongst the rest of the camp. Longing for a bigger pool to fish, Odysseus persuaded Ivanna to relocate their troupe to the city, and thus the Volkov Traders made their way down to Quebec.
After spending some months in the wilderness with Ivanna Odysseus eventually realized just how toxic she really was. His wish to visit the city was also a bid to give Ivanna the slip in a place where even her famed tracking skills would be useless. Taking Hector, some saddlebags, and a large helping of drugs, alcohol and books, Odysseus hid out in the slums of Quebec. He was aided by a kindly apprentice-blacksmith named Achille, who had grown taken with Odysseus. He was an innocent soul, and though Odysseus was tempted, he knew he could not stay or else he would end up tarnishing the young man. So, much like he left Ivanna and Port Harrison, Odysseus rode away in the dead of night. Those two weeks reprieve were well spent, however, since Odysseus had decided what he would do next. He took the spear Achille meant to present him tomorrow as a token of his affection, a finely wrought weapon on with a steel arrowhead point, and planned to sink it into the chests of those who had condemned him to die in a snowy ditch by the windswept bay, and in doing so doomed him upon so many people. In February of the year 2012, he will arrive in ‘Souls to wreak his vengeance.
Sharp as a tack, cold as ice, yet as falsely warm as a shot of whisky in the night, Odysseus slithers through life with grace and roguish charm masking pitiless strategizing and soulless manoeuvres. He enjoys excesses of drugs and alcohol, not for the simple feeling of being chemically altered, but for the experiences some of the more psychoactive doses give him. He reads old literature, especially from Europe in the Middle Ages and later. He is well read in poetry and prose, and hoards books like a magpie hoards silver spoons. He is a self-taught artist, but his steady hand and clear eyes render almost everything he sketches or paints nearly picture perfect. He enjoys chess. He can fluently speak French and English, but swear in Italian, Greek, German, and Russian. Due to his voracious reading Odysseus is as aware of the history of the world as any human citizens might have been before they all disappeared.
He will flirt with the beautiful of any gender, but seems to lean more towards males than females when finding an actual lover. However, it is strong personalities he is attracted to the most, and seems to greatly enjoy the battle of wills that almost always ensues. He is somewhat high gear, and always has an eye out for others looking to be seduced. He seems to take heart from suffering and revel in disorder. Odysseus values his own gains high above the needs of others. However, he is intelligent enough and not too full of himself to presume that he is entirely capable on his own. This last aspect is what allows him to coexist relatively well within a pack structure. All his energies towards chaos and cruelty are simply turned towards advancing in rank and prestige.
Odysseus is capable of good things, it just takes a lot of coaxing, bribes and grovelling. It is a true mark of Odysseus’s esteem for someone when he does something for them and never asks to be returned the favour. Though he wouldn’t admit it, the wolf-dog is capable of profound emotions too. This can be proven in the way he has treated four people within in his life. His parents, Anticlea and Laertes, whom he loved very much. Hector, the first (and only) wolf he fell in love with, and who taught him about Shakespeare and whiskey and rum. His horse, whom he treats with a kindness and gentleness unexpected of such a cold personality. He is aware that Anticlea and Laertes were not biologically related to him, but he couldn’t care less about reuniting with his real parents, nor his siblings, to regain a family. No, Odysseus’s quest is one of revenge.
He is, when boiled down to the crux of himself, an actor. Odysseus dances through the world holding a mask to his face, never letting a single person know the extent of himself. He finds it hard to reach out to others when in need of help or friendship, and much easier to delude, exploit, or extort. He found the real world too harsh for his natural personality long ago, and thus crafted a glossier, sharper one to combat the slings and arrows. It was a process drawn out over the two years his life, and with each disappointment the wall grew higher. The realization that his parents were not related to him by blood, Hector’s death, Lena’s pregnancy, Ivanna’s insanity, culminating with such unadulterated kindness from Achille that the wolf-dog could not bear to sully such a genuine person, every person of significance that passed through Odysseus’s life left an irrevocable mark on him, and shaped him into the beguiling yet twisted being he is today.
Member of the Trouillefou family.
- Biological Parents — Finn Fidh and Jacquez Trouillefou
- Adoptive Parents —
- (by Lena Larrson) —
Alexander Argyris(M), Helle Argyris (F), Ulrik Argyris(M)
- (by Aleksei Tarasova) — Domovoi Tarasova (M)
- (by Lena Larrson) —
Grey as rock and just as hard, Odysseus stares out at the world through pupils the size of pinheads surrounded by lakes of the frostiest blue. His smile is charming and suave but slightly too large, slightly too toothy, like a handsome shark. Combined with the forceful gaze, he comes off as a little mad upon first glance. His fur is shaggy like a wolf’s and soft as only a Collie’s could be. He takes the greatest care of it, and is quite vain about his appearance. To this end, he wears a scarlet cape about his shoulders, a gift from someone in his past.
He has no visible scars, but insists it’s because he’s never lost a fight. He styles the hair on his chin in a sort of goatee and the hair on his head in short, ruffled spikes. Two spots of lighter grey halo his eyes. His ears fall much like a sheepdog’s and are almost jaunty in their folds. They are the most expressive part of Odysseus, standing at attention when he is curious, interested or feeling particularly benevolent. This is rather useful, since his eyes may as well be brick walls for the amount of emotion they convey.
His body is tall, lean and graceful, yet taut with muscle and outlined by the brilliant, blood-red cape. He moves in huge, almost rhythmic strides. His fingers are long and elegant. His speech is smooth, pleasant and almost archaic in its verbosity when he is in his happier moods, but grows rough in tone, accent and subject when he is angered or stressed beyond his control. He can curse in four different languages, after all. He smells of sea salt and rain. He ties his cape with a compass on a golden chain and never, ever takes it off.