<strong>Name</strong>: Igor Iron-Bear of the Winters' Tale<br/><strong>Species</strong>: True Born Werewolf<br/><strong>Age</strong>: 30<br/><strong>Gender</strong>: Male<br/><strong>Sexuality</strong>: Straight<br/><strong>Staff or Guest</strong>: Guest<br/><strong>Appearance</strong>: Being a True Born Werewolf, Igor has three forms which he can change between at will rather than being bound to the moon cycles.<br/><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Human Form</div><div class="spoiler_body"><br/>(https://i.imgur.com/egoaDjy.jpg)<br/><br/>While not the tallest of his ilk standing a stout 5'6, Igor is wide in both his shoulders and his stance. Weighing 285lbs of meaty muscle he is not sculpted and from a distance he may look more puffy than buff. But a punch from him will be like getting hit by a bear, just solid impact.<br/><br/>While living in the deepest recesses of Siberia he has fallen quite far behind in fashion generally dressed as above. Furs, leather, and steel plates. His body marred by scars and old Norse inspired tattoos. Hair and beard are black and scraggly from a lack of regular washing, and while one eye is milked over from an old wound his other smolders with a primal spirit. Dull amber and unwavering, every fiber of his being reflects the earliest days of Man and Wolf.<br/><br/><br/></div></div><br/><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Wolf Form</div><div class="spoiler_body"><br/>(https://i.imgur.com/TPDT9Pc.jpg)<br/><br/>Like his human form, Igor's wolf form reflects a more primitive design. That of an ancient Dire Wolf, oversized canines with an exceptionally large skull, a shorter, but more stout body and much longer limbs than today's largest natural wolf. His fur is the grayish white of the early dawn with black stripe like markings running along his legs and shoulders his paw were smaller than one would expect, but they hold all the power his frame can muster.  His eyes, while still white and amber now have a glow about them like that of a campfire upon the desolate tundra.<br/><br/></div></div><br/><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Warrior Form</div><div class="spoiler_body"><br/>(https://i.imgur.com/djSXt2A.jpg)<br/><br/>While his human form is short and stout and his wolf form is simply stout, Igor's warrior form is where he truly earns the name Iron-Bear.<br/><br/>Only 10 feet high, but nearly four foot wide from shoulder to shoulder. One word comes to mind when his foes gaze upon the Wrath of Winter...power...like a glacier on two legs, slow but unstoppable once he gathers speed. His fur turns from the grayish white of his wolf form to pure white his stripes more pronounced now as they swim about his thick furry hide. <br/><br/>For all intents and purposes he looks like a prehistoric Giant Short-Faced bear, but once he lets loose his hunter's howl only fear and the promise of a wrath that strikes like a blizzard from Mother Russia herself. His white eye was become even paler almost blending into his very skull, but his amber eye now blazes like the flame of the setting sun.<br/><br/></div></div><br/><br/><strong>Physical Description</strong>: In all his forms he is a giant creature with a white eye and an amber colored eye. He can also talk to both humanoids and animals in all three forms.<br/><br/><em>Powers, Traits, and Abilities: </em><br/><br/><br/><strong>He who shatters glaciers-</strong>While some of his kin dedicate themselves to the precision and symmetry of learning martial arts Igor has always found the...direct method serves him best. He needs not the flashy punches and kicks of karate or the submission holds of judo when one hit from him can snap a normal bear's spine in half and he can shatter stone with a hug.<br/><br/><strong>Be one with the Winter-</strong>While most effective in arctic conditions, if Igor can manage to remain perfectly still he can nearly blind in with his surroundings, he'll be easily seen if someone looks at him. But if they are simply glancing by or busy talking with someone he can be right there and no one would be any the wiser.<br/><br/><strong>Dark Tundra-</strong>An ability similar to Be one with Winter, but focuses on his willpower and ability to overcome trauma both mental and physical. Quite simply he stills his mind and just...shuts it off. From the outside it looks like a brainless brute's eyes glazing over and everything being said to him goes in one ear and out the other.<br/><br/><strong>The Way of the Glacier-</strong>A body at rest will remain at rest, and a body in motion will remain in motion unless it is acted upon by an external force. Igor is a large and powerful man his power takes time to spin up, but once he starts running or swinging his fists very few things can withstand the blows or stop him.<br/><br/><em>Fears, Flaws, and Vices:</em><br/><br/><strong>Primitive-</strong>The Werewolf equivalent of a Neanderthal, while not demented or mentally challenged Igor is far from educated. He speaks fluent albeit slow Russian and broken English at best and he knows nothing of books or the written word.<br/><br/><strong>Lost in the Snow-</strong>While the philosophy of the<em>Nastoyashchiye Volki</em>has steered the Pack through countless wars and natural disasters. Outside of their Territory it has proven a great annoyance and sometimes a disastrous liability. Clan members have been blown up by landmines or fallen off cliffs when lost in thought.<br/><br/><strong>The rage of the sun-</strong>Igor has spent nearly his entire life in the frozen wastes of Siberia. The snow and cold are as warm and welcoming to him as his mother's embrace. But the closer he gets to the Equator the more miserable and slower he becomes even his mostly hairless Human Form.<br/><br/><strong>Power over speed-</strong>Be it in combat or when hunting Igor has never been fast. He's more likely to take a speeding truck to his chest and smash it to pieces than step off the road. This means someone will likely need to be near him to pull him out of the path of a speeding silver bullet.<br/><br/><strong>Personality</strong>:Slow and steady as the winters of Mother Russia. Igor's pack is one the more traditional packs still left protecting the Sacred World-Oaks. They live in seclusion and call themselves the "<em>Nastoyashchiye Volki</em>" or the True Wolves. While their neighbors fled from the embrace of Father Winter they stayed true to the old ways. Standing vigilant as the  Father himself.<br/><br/>Igor is a reflection of this mindset. You do not rush the Winter, if you do it will take you and never release you. Patience is more than a virtue it is a survival mechanism, but patience among the<em>Volki</em>will never be mistaken for idleness. Always moving, always improving, even when the night is long and the fires low Igor will be working to improve himself and remove the modern mindsets of idleness even if it simply looks like he is staring dimly into nothingness.<br/><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Background</div><div class="spoiler_body"><br/>The story of Igor Iron-Bear is one heard most commonly among the people of the <em>Nastoyashchiy Volk</em>. Born a single cub among twenty creating a single generation and raised as a singular unit. Sleeping together, eating together, training together, every adult in his Pack took turns spending time with and raising each cub. Mother and Father were odd terms rarely used, unless the ones who had actually created and birthed you wished to make it known. <em>Dyadya i Tetya</em>, Uncle and Aunt were used in their place. All were his family even if they did not share the same hair color or ear shape as him. <br/><br/>He did not even have a last name he was simply Igor to all. When formality was needed like in the the rare instances of other Packs coming to his people's lands he was introduced as <em>Igor' Zimnyaya Skazka</em> Igor of the Winter's Tale. Raised in the Old Ways the "True Ways" of Father Wolf and the Mothers. The land was your home and your larder, killing and eating only what was needed cultivating plants and vegetables for medicines and food. And when the time came...bleeding in it's defense.<br/><br/>Igor's people lived very isolated in the most uninhabited regions of Northern Russia. Largely unknown to every human that called the snowy country home. They were the myths of the Natives and the fevered rantings of the addle minded fools who dare to challenge Winter's Rule. You do not challenge Father Winter, for he is as merciless as he his diligent. You show him respect as well as respect his mates the Mother's Sky and Earth and you will see the hidden beauty of the snow and ice. Listen to his voice and he will share with you secrets not even the Fae can understand. How to create the perfect snowflake, where to find the herds as they hunker down for winter, how to listen to the voice of the Glacier and learn the tales locked away in their millennia old bodies.<br/><br/>The Way of Winter is the way of peace in a world both harsh and rapidly shrinking. Igor loved the lessons and loved his way of life. As he grew he learned so much more, how to find food even in the middle of the harshest blizzard, how to unhinge himself from the stress of life and sing with the Mothers as they take your burdens onto their own shoulders. And as he reached the breeding age he learned the pleasures of the female body as they were freed from the confines of their furs and leathers. He sired his first cub in adolescence with a female with blonde hair who was around his age. Like all of his Pack he raised the squalling little male with the rest of his generation. This was his life for many years, but with each year less and less cubs were being born a darkness was creeping up on his people.<br/><br/>That darkness came in the form of encroaching humans and other <em>Thera </em>. They claimed to simply be explorers, but his people have not survived centuries of conflict and learned the thrive in conditions no other race could, just to be tricked with honeyed words or shiny baubles. While war was part of their nature, the teachings of Winter had quieted their animal blood enough to let Peace be the journey. They let most explorers walk through the lands even lending them aid if needed, but their kindness as cautious as it was would cut them low.<br/><br/>On Igor's twenty-fifth winter of life their good deeds would bring their Just Desserts, but not in the way any had hoped. A group they had helped were Wolf Hunters in disguise, normally a disguise, no matter how intricate, would be sniffed out fairly quickly and the liars dealt with. But this particular group had a Witch in their midst and her magic aided their ruse to flawless perfection. That night Igor's pack was attacked, half of them were wiped out before they could mount a defense. And once they did...the tundra had not see such carnage since the second world war. Blood stained the once pristine snow for a mile in every direction, Igor and most of the Wolves his age survived, but two whole generations of cubs were slaughtered as well as many of their Elders. They were a pack without young or Spiritual Leadership, dark times were ahead for them.<br/><br/>But after five years of rebuilding and training the <em>Nastoyashchiye Volki</em> were nearly back at full strength. Igor had become the one of the Beta among his newly forged people, he could've been Alpha and many of his peers approached him with the suggestion. But he turned them all down, he wasn't built for leading. He simply wished to keep his pack strong, his claws were meant to crush skulls not shake hands. While unorthodox in his methods there was rarely a conflict he could not handle. But he could still feel the darkness creeping up on them, the Mothers sang songs of constant sorrow and the Father's Wolf's howl upon the shrilling wind sounded distressed. He asked the Sage and Alphas for guidance, but Father Winter had been silent these past five years. But rumors of a Ronin Pack reached Igor's ears, fighters on the frontlines defending the Sacred-Oaks and keeping the Father and Mothers' spirits alive. Joining them crossed his mind more than once. But in his wanderings to seek out the Ronin Tribe he stumbled into a magical rift in space and time and found himself at the Green Lion.</div></div><br/><br/><strong>Ons/Offs</strong>: Igor has fathered many cubs and had many mates warm his furs over the years. In his tribe it is the duty of all to breed and rebuild their dying numbers. And while he would like to settle down with a favored female before he dies, he is quite happy to spread the love around to any female willing. As such his "Ons" are as followed. Breeding, vaginal sex, oral (giving and receiving) multiple positions, multiple female partners, healthy females, busty females, powerful females, dominance play, humanoid shape, monogamy(with the right female) and affection.<br/><br/>His "Offs" are more traditional. Anything anal, anything gore related, anything bathroom related, non-humanoid shape, unnatural bodies, and oddly enough bestiality at least when not in Wolf form.