Jestan Albelin

For those who have never laid eyes upon a Dire Wolf - Jester is a sight to see. His hulking size is such a shock to some that they would simply rather just run away. And if you stayed, you might find yourself wondering why. The brute never smiles - his structured face devoid of any emotion. Burning umber eyes gaze out like coals in a mass of darkness, calculating, barely blinking. His very presence will leave a sour taste in your mouth.

Jester moves like a ghost would, head down, silent and alone. His shoulders reach almost 3 feet, his tail a banner of black. Using a word he's heard whispered many, many times... Jester is a monster among the living.

Empty. Void of all kindness and piety, the bloody-amber voids resembled only coal - the eyes of a dead man, kept alive as reparation and reparation alone. Those pits, set into an aquiline skull, chiseled as from stone itself - with a powerful maw & a solid, lofty brow. Suffering, but bereft of all emotion - this statue of a creature appears only as one that has been silent for many a moon. Coal tipped auds barely alert, but finely shaped like the petals of a deadly flower - sharp and fast. Perhaps nearer to the color of coal, his coat is unkempt & dense, reflecting the will of a brute who has lost everything dear to him.

Though rare, when delivered, the voice of this ghost is rough, fire like & deep, caught low somewhere between his lungs. Though emotionally torn, the wolf is a graceful sight. Muscles trained over the years show strongly through the darkness of his coat, legs like strong stilts dipped in ink carry him while a heavy neck holds his head in a lordly manner. Nothing, save for the emptiness of his hollow gaze give his inner turmoil away. He is a warrior, & a warrior he shall remain. The jagged scar that runs below his chest, out of sight, is a constant admonition of this.

To those unknowing, he is polluted - a figure of darkness & silence that strikes fear into the hearts of the young. Speechless, tall and tenacious, he embodies a nightmare being - a thing of horror and sorrow and dust. A broken soul with a terrible desire for something he can never place.

Nothing ever begins.
There is no first moment; no single word or place from which this or any story springs. The threads can always be traced back to some earlier tale, and the tales that preceded that; though as the narrator's voice recedes the connections will seem to grow more tenuous, for each age will want the tale told as if it were of its own making.

Born under a full moon, and named according after his father, Jestan Albelin was a healthy, exquisite example of a pup. He was the first born to his dear mother, Vitani - and oh how she worshiped his every footfall. The other pups, Jestan's siblings, had all been stillborn. With love and every fiber of tenderness she could muster, the silvery wolf raised Jestan to the very best of her young abilities. And a fine job she did of it too - there was only so much a mother could do with an absent mate. But the small pack needed a scout, and that the position that Hysaier filled - scathing the lands for any sign of abnormalities.

For the first year of his life, Jestan was an inquisitive, polite pup. Like his mother, he was incredibly smart, & this led to many questions being asked - he wanted to know why & how come about everything. We want to reveal ourselves at will, and speak our minds. The leader of the pack, a barren wolf with a mate lost to the dreaded disease, had hand picked the young'in to stand as the pack General once he was old enough, which of course was a great honor to both Jestan and his mother. This honour was what he focused on through the years of grueling training and torture that he had to endure to earn his rank. Dire wolves were ruthless when it came to their battle tactics - every fear, every insecurity, every flight-instinct was beaten and bled out of him. To this day - Jester will not discuss these formative years of horror. When he came out the other side - he was a changed wolf. Something inside him had died...

On his third birthday, Yuva, his fathers scouting partner, returned to the pack bloodied and battered - speaking in dying riddles of how they were attacked by a grizzly & how Hythaire was killed. This did not affect Jestan too much, as he had hardly known the brute from which he came. However, Vitani took a hard blow from the death of her mate. She became bitter, short of words - a heartbroken soul with only her son left. She didn't even have the heart to tell anyone that she was pregnant for a second time. No tears, please. It's a waste of good suffering.

The months bore on. Jestan tried the best he could to comfort his beloved mother, but she was never the same. When Lunar was born though, the fire of her life was somewhat renewed - returning her to a small state of her former self. Though once again, her other pups had been stillborn - Lunar was fair like her mother - easy on the eyes and full of life. Jestan immediately took a powerful brotherly interest over her, protecting her since the moment she left her mother's belly.

It was on a summer morning when Jestan was walking with Lunar through the desolate woods, hoping to show her some of the interesting birds that he loved so much. Stunning multicolored things that squawked oddly when you came too near. Unfortunately, it wasn't that strange sound that he heard that day - but rather the frantic yipping of his pack, and a terrible, terrible screaming. Not knowing what was happening, he instructed Lunar to stay exactly where she was - promising that he would return for her, then spinning on his heals and heading straight for home.

It’s only when you’ve lost someone that you realize the nonsense of that phrase “It’s a small world”. It isn’t. It’s a vast, devouring world, especially if you’re alone.

The screams grew louder, dulling out the sound of his heart beating in his ears. The sight that greeted him would haunt him forever.

A pox-positive grizzly, possibly the very same that had slain his father, stood over the lifeless form of Vitani, it's wretched face shoving her to her side to expose her soft belly. But before the thing could desecrate his mother any further, he burst between them, letting out a furious snarl that shook even himself. Shocked, the bear retreated a few steps, but recollected itself just as quickly, lurching towards Jestan as he lunged for the creature's throat - unfortunately, he misjudged his aim, and instead of him landing a grip on the bear, it struck him. Large claws digging deep into the underside of his chest. The pain was blinding, but so was the rage. He spun himself around and lunged again - this time, he felt his teeth sink into soft flesh - and he was ripping it again. He came loose from the bear with a piece of its neck in his mouth. In agony, it fell, scrambled to it's paws and retreated back into the woods. it was then that Jestan saw the bulk of his pack, standing on the opposite shore of their shallow river... just watching.

"COWARDS!" He screamed, anger coursing through his veins. "You could have protected her! You're dire wolves for heavens sake!" They were too ashamed to even look at him, and instead, turned to leave. A muffled sound interrupted his pursuit of them. "Lunar..." The whisper had barely left his lips before he was vaulting back into the woods, terrified to lose the last remaining member of his family. But he was too late. His blind rage had cost him the life of his sister, his beautiful Lunar, whose silver pelt was now stained with crimson.

The bear, recognizing him, had backed up, but was not leaving. The wound in his chest was draining him, but he still had strength left, and even if he didn't, the rage would power him. He took a three steps back, looked the thing in it's stupid little eyes, and then propelled himself forward, diving into the huge creature. Both of them crashed to the forest floor in a flurry of browns, red and black. In the scuffle, Jester managed to grab the beast by its throat once again - this time, he could feel the life-vein pulsating below his teeth. He relished the moment he ripped it from its home. A man kills the thing he loves, and he must die a little himself.

By the time he was done, sweat and blood had mixed together on his body, making him impure. A limp body was all that was left of the bear. Meaningless and pitiful. The only thing left for him to do was to take the body of his beautiful Lunar, and place her beside Vitani. And so he did, collecting flowers to place around the two of them. The pack was long gone, showing their spinelessness. Showing their selfishness.

That day, Jestan died along with his family. Replacing his name, and leaving his home behind. He picked up the scent of the deserters, and chose the opposite direction. Where he was going - he would hopefully never see another of his kind again. They were a dying breed after all.

Every day and every night that he traveled he became more and more bitter - more and more resentful. He'd trained for years to be the apex damn predator, it was in his genes - but he hadn't been there when he'd been needed the most. Hate spreed like ink through his being. Flesh could not keep its glamour, nor eyes their sheen. They would go to nothing soon. But monsters are forever.

It was four weeks until he found what he considered a suitable home. And by suitable - he saw broken, ruined, decayed. The perfect place to match himself. Buildings toppled over, junk everywhere, everything sharp and rusted and barely holding on. The only thing that stood in his way was the alpha of the ramshackle pack that occupied the area. Jester didn't care to learn his name. He was fed when he arrived, he was rested. He didn't wait one moment to challenge the other brute for the land.

The fight didn't last too long. Thanatos managed to land a well-timed bite to Jester's face - tearing the skin below his eye, but in the end he was just not strong enough to withstand Jester. The element of surprise had worked in Jester's favour that day. Covered in blood and viscera, the black dire wolf took lead of the Urbex pack right there and then.