Profile of Nalik

Time has been remarkably kind to the wolf, considering how unkind he can be. For the duration of his life, he’s always been fit, taking great care in making sure he was at his strongest. In his later years, it has benefitted him substantially. He still maintains a well defined physique, though perhaps now there is a subtle stiffness to the way he moves. The most obviously outward sign of his age is the grey that spatters his dark coat. He stands at an imposing 36 inches, his height and stature adding to the intimidation. He tips the scales at 190lbs, an impressive weight he is slowly struggling to maintain as he ages.

A well decorated war hero, he is littered with various scars. Each mark tells a story of his time spent locked in combat, something he proudly displays. His coat is made up greys, a smoky grey making up a majority of his color. Darker points paint his back, shoulders and the ends of the hairs around his neck. A mingling of white amidst the monochromic hairs completes his look, giving his the appearance more of a classic grey wolf. If you needed anything else to remember him by, his eyes will certainly leave a lasting impression. Like a pair of emeralds, his eyes are a dark and intoxicating shade of green.

Nalik is affected by the Fae sickness and while he's technically 8 years old, the sickness has frozen him at 6 years old.

He is a product of his upbringing. His path had been laid out for him since before he was born. The first and only son of his parents, he carried a heavy burden to further his line and he shouldered that knowledge just fine. While he was well groomed and told of his future, he still had more freedom than a woman might. He enjoyed everything life had to offer and it created a monster. He’s overly confident with the skill to back it up, he’s entitled with the status to ensure he gets what he wants.

In his youth, he was hot headed and wildly confident. His time in the army shaped him into a well trained warrior, allowing him the privilege to act as he pleased simply because he was plenty capable of defending himself. As he’s gotten older, his temper has balanced out though it would still be unwise to rile him. He still oozes an otherworldly confidence, looking down at the world for their minuscule existence. With a militaristic view, he demands obedience, craves it even. But he’s not all bad. There is a loyal streak in him, one that has never bent or broken. His family is his everything.

The first born and the only son his parents would have, his upbringing had been carefully structured. He was betrothed at a young age, taught that he would marry her and she would bare his child, that she would bend to his will. In the beginning he was rather indifferent to her presence in his life. She served him well enough, even beneath his oppressive hand. When he said jump, he expected her to ask how high and she was lovely enough to do just that. It wasn’t until her belly swelled with the next generation that his feelings towards her turned obsessive. If possible, he became more suffocating. Desire clashed violently with his temper, leaving behind the inexplicable mark of bruises on pale skin. Following the birth of their children, it was hard to say whether or not their presence dampened his oppression or not. He didn’t consider it beneath him to manipulate his wife’s continued obedience through their children, keeping her in line with no remorse. But it would seem she’d eventually tire of his overbearing nature.

Pregnant once again, much to his delight, she would vanish one night. Waking to a cold and empty bed ignited not only a fury in the wolf but a vicious determination. She had abandoned him and their children. It was an embarrassment to the family and a bruise to his ego he could not allow. If possible, he grew colder, harsher, more unforgiving. A restlessness took hold of his soul as he split his time between his children and searching for his wife. Four years would pass before he caught any whispers of her and in that time, he had raised his children to be just that, his.