Jhin
Anbu Operative 🎭
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""I have no doubt that some are good and noble men, strong enough to resist temptation. But how many temptations do you wish to offer a man before he will give in?""
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Basic Information
➥ Name : Fenris Noldor
➥ NickName : Wolf, Phantom.
➥ Gender : Male
➥ Age : 22
➥ Clan : Noldor
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Appearance
Fenris is a rather moderately sized elf in comparison to his brethren. While most are far taller than humans, Fenris himself is roughly six and a half feet tall, being taller than the average human while slightly smaller than his brother elves. His skin is a darker tone than most elves caused by his time in captivity in a warm climate, he has shocking white hair attributed to Marie Antoinette syndrome once more a condition caused by his slave lifestyle, he has deep piercing green eyes and his body is entirely covered in a substance called lyrium which is the sap of the tree from his elven home primarily and is combined with tattoo ink giving his lyrium artwork covering his body a silvery sheen that glows when he's using the abilities of his clan, this was applied not only as a way for his master to ensure he wasn't using his abilities but also as a form of leashing him. To show others that Fenris was his property. In terms of apparel Fenris predominantly wears an outfit of dark brown leather with fairly long boots and leather gloves on both hands, the outfit is called grafted spirit hide and it too has a dark history, with the leather used to create the outfit actually being from elven slaves. Fenris was forced to wear the very bodies of his brethren. However since his escape Fenris created new purpose for the outfit, now he views it as carrying the souls of his brothers in to battle with him, allowing them to claim revenge from the afterlife. To that end he has further reinforced the outfit by adding lyrium scales, which are essentially blocks of hardened leather affixed to the armor, with each one containing the silver ink as a coating which accents the outfit. He also reinforced the straps of the outfit and affixed new pouches and pockets, with both breast pockets containing scrolls for drawing his creations upon. His waist pouches contain the usual assortment of ninja tools along with several containers of silver lyrium ink for his drawing. An inky resin coats the entire of the outfit making it shimmer in bright lights glowing a silver color, and finally he has a symbol of the tevinter empire adorned on his chest a reminder of where he escaped and why he fights.
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Personality
Fenris has a unique personality developed due to the incredible injustice he has suffered at the hands of man, what was originally a burning hatred has evolved in to something akin to disdain. Fenris see's most humans as children at best and at worst no different than animals. Often referring to them as the latter he views them as creatures that need to be directed or destroyed, seeing even the most genuine and kind as simple steps away from inhumane actions. A mantra he chooses to live by in regards to interaction with people is simply "'Ignore the tiger. Not its fault that it's going to eat you.' Sound advice." when discovering the origins of chakra, Fenris simply replied to the astounded story teller "Is it so hard for you to believe the humans would be arrogant enough to challenge the Maker of all creation? You need to meet more humans."
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Village of Birth Lothlorian | Village of Alliance Lothlorian | Village Information |
Rank & Chakra Information
| Ninja Rank Sannin Specialties Katon (Primary) Raiton (Secondary) Taijutsu Holy Fire Ink Techniques | Elements
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Fire Release
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Wind Release
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Lightning Release
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Earth Release
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Water Release | Ninjutsu
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Ninjutsu
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Genjutsu
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Taijutsu
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Kenjutsu
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Ink Release | Summonings Summons
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Snakes
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Contract
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Summons
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Arts | Fighting Styles N/A Other 関 Customs ➟ [
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] |
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History
The hunters were after him again.
Truth be told, he’d known for several days. He’d seen it in the eyes of the innkeeper, the way the fat man guiltily glanced away and refused to meet his gaze. He’d seen it in the pitying look of the ***** that stood on the corner, and the way she covered it up with a smile. The patrons in that squalid tavern where he went to buy his meals grew quiet when he entered now, and it was not the uncomfortable silence of human townsfolk being confronted with a strange elf covered in strange skin markings and carrying a large sword—rather it was the silence of men who knew trouble had just walked through the door and were now doing their best to pretend it didn’t exist. Fenris knew the difference very well.
He’d been lazy. Despite the fact that he’d known, still part of him refused to admit that it was so. He’d hoped against hope that he was wrong, that the signs were simply a fugitive’s paranoia. His stay in the last three towns had been longer and longer, his efforts to cover up his distinctive markings almost nonexistent. He told himself that this was a challenge. Let them come. Let them try and take him back, if they dared. Deep down, however, he wondered if he hadn’t simply grown weary of the chase.
Now was the time. He’d already cleaned his few meager possessions out of his room at the inn and jumped out the window. It led to a dark alley in the back, with enough ledges below that a quick descent was easily accomplished. That was why Fenris had chosen the room after an inspection that had the innkeeper staring at him in worry. He almost had to wonder how long it would take the fat man before curiosity, or a lack of payment, would lead him to check and find Fenris gone. A week, perhaps less if the innkeeper was the one who’d sold him out.
There was nothing in the alley save for a few lone rats and an elven vagrant asleep against a garbage heap. Fenris paused and stared at the man in disgust. He’d thought to blend in more once he’d escaped the Imperium. In a land where elves were free, certainly one more elf would go unnoticed? He’d been a fool, of course. How was he to know that so many of his people would squander their freedom living like frightened cattle? If his only choices were to either dress as meekly as the local humans expected their elves to be, run off to find the wandering clans that grubbed in the dirt for whatever scraps the human kingdoms threw them, or to fight… then his choice was clear.
The vagrant stirred awake as Fenris drew the greatsword from his back. The elf squealed in sudden terror but Fenris ignored him. There were others coming now, cloaked in the alley’s shadows—at least two on either side and… one above? He listened, and heard the faintest scraping on the clay tiles up above. Yes, no doubt a crossbowman. They thought they had him pinned.
Fenris launched himself towards the end of the alley that led away from the main street. Here it led into a maze of twisty courtyards, sewage and lines of hung laundry… but it would be darker there, easier for him to run without stirring the town guard. Why the hunters never tried bribing the guard to help their hunt he couldn’t say. Regardless, he’d run amiss of the guard in another town and they’d impeded his efforts to escape as much as they impeded the hunters. It wasn’t worth the risk.
The vagrant shouted in fear and drunkenly scrambled to his feet, but Fenris was already past him. Two long figures approached, barely visible but moving fast now as they realized their quarry was aware of the chase. Fenris caught a glimpse of maroon. Tevinter soldiers, then. Good, that would make this easier. Not that he wouldn’t have killed mercenaries just as easily, but it was less pleasant than slaughtering dogs like these. A wide arc of his blade knocked the first hunter aside as he parried. The second rushed forward, hoping to take advantage of an opening—only to meet Fenris’s fist. The markings on his skin flashed brightly, the lyrium within them sending holy fire crawling through his flesh, and his fist phased through the man’s helmet and directly into his head. He lurched to a halt, stunned with terror.
So they weren’t warned. Fools.
The lyrium markings flashed again as Fenris partially solidified his fist. The hunter jolted back, blood gushing forth from his mouth and his ears. By now the first hunter was already recovered and swinging his blade. Fenris expertly hauled the second around by his head, putting him into the path of the swing. The sword chopped deeply into the man’s shoulder, and with a kick he sent both of them flying together into the brick wall. His fist was covered in dark red gore.
He would have stayed to finish them off, but the other hunters were already figuring things out. A crossbow bolt flew by Fenris’s head, barely nicking one of his ears, and he could hear the booted feet of more soldiers rushing his way. He ran into the alleyway, leaping over the hunter who struggled to push off his dead comrade, and sped into the maze. Dark doorways flew by as he raced. He cut down clotheslines and tossed over barrels to present obstacles behind him. They were definitely giving chase—he could hear them swearing in Tevinter, and the crossbowman above scrambling to get into position.
The first pair of open shutters he saw and Fenris dived through. He landed in a kitchen filled with the smell of baking bread, and a human woman screamed as he rolled to his feet. No doubt the sight of an elf in skintight armor, carrying a blade almost as large as himself, wasn’t a welcome sight. He got to his feet and noticed the surprisingly comely woman, dressed in a nightgown that revealed more of her cleavage than she no doubt expected, pressing against the wall.
He grinned at her, and she screamed again. So he grabbed a freshly-baked loaf off the counter and raced for the front door of the hovel. Already a soldier was climbing through the window, causing the woman to scream once more and faint dead away. The others would be coming around to the front, so he had to get out before…
…he stopped cold. He knew the man who stood at the doorway: maroon cloak and jet-black hair barely covering those soulless eyes. Not to mention a scar on his neck, one that Fenris had put there. Damned healing techniques and their foul magic. Why couldn’t anyone stay dead?
“Avanna, Fenris. Good to see you again.” The hunter’s voice was a cold purr as he raised his crossbow and pointed the bolt at Fenris’s chest. The one on the roof, then. Clever.
“Considering what happened last time, I’m surprised you decided to try again.”
“It’s not just about the coin any longer, slave.”
Oh, how Fenris loved it when they said that. “Not afraid you’ll lose your head for good?”
“Not when we have the drop on you. You’ve become careless. Time to give yourself up.” The other hunter had made it through the window, and he could hear others shouting in the street. He supposed that he really had only two choices: give up and hope for a chance to escape later… or take his chances.
It wasn’t really a choice. He tightened his grip on the hilt of his blade and smiled at the hunter, slow and deadly.
“Vishante kaffar,” he hissed. And he attacked.
Once a slave of a Tevinter magister called Danarius, Fenris is covered in a series of lyrium-infused markings, which he thought for the longest time granted him the unnatural ability to phase through solid objects and conjure incredible powerful fire, which is somehow connected to the Fade. However since returning to the free lands, Fenris discovered it to be his elven heritage that allows him to do such things, calling forth incredible power. The markings were simply a means of control. Fenris often uses this ability as a weapon, phasing through individuals and solidifying, killing them instantly. However, these markings are also extremely sensitive, and touching them often results in physical discomfort. Because of this, he has an aversion towards being touched.
However, the experiments performed on him also caused him to lose all of his memories. He fled to the free lands as a fugitive, hunted by the soldiers of his former master. Located far to the north of the land of snow, in a place called Tevinter.
Being a former slave himself, Fenris is happy to help slaves flee their masters or kill the ones who hold onto their chains. But due to his unpleasant experience with the Tevinter Magisters, he is extremely distrustful of humans even friendly ones. He feels that they would do anything for power, and will inevitably succumb to the temptations that demons and monsters have to offer.
Truth be told, he’d known for several days. He’d seen it in the eyes of the innkeeper, the way the fat man guiltily glanced away and refused to meet his gaze. He’d seen it in the pitying look of the ***** that stood on the corner, and the way she covered it up with a smile. The patrons in that squalid tavern where he went to buy his meals grew quiet when he entered now, and it was not the uncomfortable silence of human townsfolk being confronted with a strange elf covered in strange skin markings and carrying a large sword—rather it was the silence of men who knew trouble had just walked through the door and were now doing their best to pretend it didn’t exist. Fenris knew the difference very well.
He’d been lazy. Despite the fact that he’d known, still part of him refused to admit that it was so. He’d hoped against hope that he was wrong, that the signs were simply a fugitive’s paranoia. His stay in the last three towns had been longer and longer, his efforts to cover up his distinctive markings almost nonexistent. He told himself that this was a challenge. Let them come. Let them try and take him back, if they dared. Deep down, however, he wondered if he hadn’t simply grown weary of the chase.
Now was the time. He’d already cleaned his few meager possessions out of his room at the inn and jumped out the window. It led to a dark alley in the back, with enough ledges below that a quick descent was easily accomplished. That was why Fenris had chosen the room after an inspection that had the innkeeper staring at him in worry. He almost had to wonder how long it would take the fat man before curiosity, or a lack of payment, would lead him to check and find Fenris gone. A week, perhaps less if the innkeeper was the one who’d sold him out.
There was nothing in the alley save for a few lone rats and an elven vagrant asleep against a garbage heap. Fenris paused and stared at the man in disgust. He’d thought to blend in more once he’d escaped the Imperium. In a land where elves were free, certainly one more elf would go unnoticed? He’d been a fool, of course. How was he to know that so many of his people would squander their freedom living like frightened cattle? If his only choices were to either dress as meekly as the local humans expected their elves to be, run off to find the wandering clans that grubbed in the dirt for whatever scraps the human kingdoms threw them, or to fight… then his choice was clear.
The vagrant stirred awake as Fenris drew the greatsword from his back. The elf squealed in sudden terror but Fenris ignored him. There were others coming now, cloaked in the alley’s shadows—at least two on either side and… one above? He listened, and heard the faintest scraping on the clay tiles up above. Yes, no doubt a crossbowman. They thought they had him pinned.
Fenris launched himself towards the end of the alley that led away from the main street. Here it led into a maze of twisty courtyards, sewage and lines of hung laundry… but it would be darker there, easier for him to run without stirring the town guard. Why the hunters never tried bribing the guard to help their hunt he couldn’t say. Regardless, he’d run amiss of the guard in another town and they’d impeded his efforts to escape as much as they impeded the hunters. It wasn’t worth the risk.
The vagrant shouted in fear and drunkenly scrambled to his feet, but Fenris was already past him. Two long figures approached, barely visible but moving fast now as they realized their quarry was aware of the chase. Fenris caught a glimpse of maroon. Tevinter soldiers, then. Good, that would make this easier. Not that he wouldn’t have killed mercenaries just as easily, but it was less pleasant than slaughtering dogs like these. A wide arc of his blade knocked the first hunter aside as he parried. The second rushed forward, hoping to take advantage of an opening—only to meet Fenris’s fist. The markings on his skin flashed brightly, the lyrium within them sending holy fire crawling through his flesh, and his fist phased through the man’s helmet and directly into his head. He lurched to a halt, stunned with terror.
So they weren’t warned. Fools.
The lyrium markings flashed again as Fenris partially solidified his fist. The hunter jolted back, blood gushing forth from his mouth and his ears. By now the first hunter was already recovered and swinging his blade. Fenris expertly hauled the second around by his head, putting him into the path of the swing. The sword chopped deeply into the man’s shoulder, and with a kick he sent both of them flying together into the brick wall. His fist was covered in dark red gore.
He would have stayed to finish them off, but the other hunters were already figuring things out. A crossbow bolt flew by Fenris’s head, barely nicking one of his ears, and he could hear the booted feet of more soldiers rushing his way. He ran into the alleyway, leaping over the hunter who struggled to push off his dead comrade, and sped into the maze. Dark doorways flew by as he raced. He cut down clotheslines and tossed over barrels to present obstacles behind him. They were definitely giving chase—he could hear them swearing in Tevinter, and the crossbowman above scrambling to get into position.
The first pair of open shutters he saw and Fenris dived through. He landed in a kitchen filled with the smell of baking bread, and a human woman screamed as he rolled to his feet. No doubt the sight of an elf in skintight armor, carrying a blade almost as large as himself, wasn’t a welcome sight. He got to his feet and noticed the surprisingly comely woman, dressed in a nightgown that revealed more of her cleavage than she no doubt expected, pressing against the wall.
He grinned at her, and she screamed again. So he grabbed a freshly-baked loaf off the counter and raced for the front door of the hovel. Already a soldier was climbing through the window, causing the woman to scream once more and faint dead away. The others would be coming around to the front, so he had to get out before…
…he stopped cold. He knew the man who stood at the doorway: maroon cloak and jet-black hair barely covering those soulless eyes. Not to mention a scar on his neck, one that Fenris had put there. Damned healing techniques and their foul magic. Why couldn’t anyone stay dead?
“Avanna, Fenris. Good to see you again.” The hunter’s voice was a cold purr as he raised his crossbow and pointed the bolt at Fenris’s chest. The one on the roof, then. Clever.
“Considering what happened last time, I’m surprised you decided to try again.”
“It’s not just about the coin any longer, slave.”
Oh, how Fenris loved it when they said that. “Not afraid you’ll lose your head for good?”
“Not when we have the drop on you. You’ve become careless. Time to give yourself up.” The other hunter had made it through the window, and he could hear others shouting in the street. He supposed that he really had only two choices: give up and hope for a chance to escape later… or take his chances.
It wasn’t really a choice. He tightened his grip on the hilt of his blade and smiled at the hunter, slow and deadly.
“Vishante kaffar,” he hissed. And he attacked.
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Once a slave of a Tevinter magister called Danarius, Fenris is covered in a series of lyrium-infused markings, which he thought for the longest time granted him the unnatural ability to phase through solid objects and conjure incredible powerful fire, which is somehow connected to the Fade. However since returning to the free lands, Fenris discovered it to be his elven heritage that allows him to do such things, calling forth incredible power. The markings were simply a means of control. Fenris often uses this ability as a weapon, phasing through individuals and solidifying, killing them instantly. However, these markings are also extremely sensitive, and touching them often results in physical discomfort. Because of this, he has an aversion towards being touched.
However, the experiments performed on him also caused him to lose all of his memories. He fled to the free lands as a fugitive, hunted by the soldiers of his former master. Located far to the north of the land of snow, in a place called Tevinter.
Being a former slave himself, Fenris is happy to help slaves flee their masters or kill the ones who hold onto their chains. But due to his unpleasant experience with the Tevinter Magisters, he is extremely distrustful of humans even friendly ones. He feels that they would do anything for power, and will inevitably succumb to the temptations that demons and monsters have to offer.
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Other Information
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Additional Information
Fire Specialty
After studying the scrolls of the Fire Release he has been able to make himself very familiar with the handseals, allowing him to use all fire jutsu with a single handseal.
Lightning Affinity
With his affinity being the element of Lightning, Fenris is able to perform Lightning jutsu with a faster handseals
Weapons and Tools
Fenris carries standard senbon hidden in his mouth Pre-battle, kunai, shuriken, ninja wire, paper bombs, smoke bombs, flash bombs etc in his ninja pouch in his back pocket. Along with silver ink for use with his ink release abilities and an enormous greatsword strapped to his back, roughly the same size as his actual body. Only able to use it thanks to his incredible talent with both kenjutsu and taijutsu.
Holy Fire
Being born in to the Noldor Clan Fenris has access to all clan abilities and makes good use of the ability of holy fire, additionally as an elf he is faster and stronger than most humans and has the ability to sense the evil intentions of those around him.
After studying the scrolls of the Fire Release he has been able to make himself very familiar with the handseals, allowing him to use all fire jutsu with a single handseal.
Lightning Affinity
With his affinity being the element of Lightning, Fenris is able to perform Lightning jutsu with a faster handseals
Weapons and Tools
Fenris carries standard senbon hidden in his mouth Pre-battle, kunai, shuriken, ninja wire, paper bombs, smoke bombs, flash bombs etc in his ninja pouch in his back pocket. Along with silver ink for use with his ink release abilities and an enormous greatsword strapped to his back, roughly the same size as his actual body. Only able to use it thanks to his incredible talent with both kenjutsu and taijutsu.
Holy Fire
Being born in to the Noldor Clan Fenris has access to all clan abilities and makes good use of the ability of holy fire, additionally as an elf he is faster and stronger than most humans and has the ability to sense the evil intentions of those around him.
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Pictures
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Background Music and Theme Song
[video=youtube;tNPyhU093Qk]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tNPyhU093Qk[/video]
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Battles
Won: X
Lost: X
Won: X
Lost: X
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Dropping :
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Shamelessly stealing Pervy's template again.
Permission to join Noldor here :
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□ Approved □
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