Mikhail Isyanov

[Mikhail]

Name: Mikhail Isyanov.
Nicknames: Some within the pack, such as Regina, occasionally call him Miks, but never constantly.
Race: Werewolf – Pureborn.
Occupation: Pack Member
Gender: Male.
Skin Color: Caucasian.
Age: 168, but physically he looks as though he is in his mid-twenties.
Clothing: Mikhail tends to wear at least two tops at a time, either a short sleeved t-shirt in some colour and sometimes with a simple pattern on and over that a shirt, normally unbuttoned in a wide range of shades and styles, often striped. Other times he will wear a plain long sleeved shirt that goes down to a little way past his wrists and one of his short sleeved t-shirts. The youthful looking wolf takes noticeably less care when it comes to pants, normally opting for some jeans, either stone or black coloured, although there are a couple of baggy cargo pants with lots of pockets. He nearly always wears sneakers of some kind on his feet for ease and comfort, typically one of two pairs of unbranded ones in muted colours although he does also own a third pair in bright yellow for reasons he’s never been able to quite figure out. When it comes to jackets however, Mikhail really comes into his own, coats being his favourite item of clothing and he owns a very wide variety of them, from a dark burgundy waist length jacket to a black denim one which goes mid way down to his thighs, to an antique brown thick gentleman’s coat from the early 1900’s which almost reaches the floor.
Height: 5’11”
Weight: 162lbs
Tattoos: None.
Piercings: None.
Jewellery: He wears a thick dark brown leather strap watch on his right arm like a cuff.

Body Modifications: He’s been remarkably blessed when it comes to injuries and with his advanced healing skills has never suffered any wound bad enough to leave a mark.

Wolf Form [/u]
Build: Built only to move as a typical wolf, Mikhail is unable to rear up onto two legs, even only to stand, limiting his height and removing the added ability to defend himself with his front paws to any real degree. Both his hind and his front legs are powerful, muscular limbs, making him capable of prolonged running at a high speed as well as the ability to leap reasonable distances, although he needs a bit of a running start to do so. He has small, curled claws which are remarkably strong and sharp, capable of digging into stone if needed, ensuring that he is nearly always able to get a decent grip on whatever surface available. The chest area is again muscular and strong, moving up into a very subtle and small mane around his head. His face is rectangular, like a normal wolf, tapering into a blunt end nose, ears normally flattened against his skull. Mikhail’s tail is about the length of his legs, wide and thick, trailing into a point at the end, the whole limb flicking subtly upwards.
Height: Quadruped- 5’1”. Biped – N/A.
Weight: 254lbs.
Hair: Mikhail’s pelt is two-toned and covers his whole body, the under layer being a silver-white shade, featuring prominently on his legs, front of his chest and his underbelly. Over this is a grey colour, which can be seen on the back, tail and back of his head, some of it mixing at his legs and face with the white fur to make a pleasing mix. The hair is thick and even over the majority of his body, lengthening around his neck to provide extra protection.
Eyes: Pure black.
Defining Marks: His springy tail and thin mane.

Pack[/u]
Pack: Rayne’s Pack.
Position: Pack Member.
Territory: Rayne’s half of Los Angeles.

Hair[/u]
Length: Mikhail’s hair is various lengths, with the longest locks tickling against the base of his neck, possibly going a little beyond that, with the rest of his hair at different heights all round his head, half covering his ears so that it sometimes tickles at them. His fringe falls straight down his forehead, stopping in length a little about his eyebrows.
Style: If there is any style to his hair, it would be a free flowing, natural scruffy, shaggy look. It flicks out a little around his ears before going into a very slight wave and flicking out at the tips in all directions to give it an untamed look. Mikhail has attempted in the past to keep it under some type of control but quickly gave up, preferring the more natural look.
Color: A deep, dark brown that can look lighter and more toffee coloured in certain lights.

Facial Hair[/u]
Length: Hardly noticeable, practically doesn’t exist, as Mikhail shaves every day.
Style: Clean shaven at all times.

Eyes[/u]
Color: Brown.
Oddities: Like all werewolves, whenever Mikhail is feeling any particularly intense emotion, such as fear, surprise, excitement, etc. they will change to the colour of his wolf’s eyes, as they will when he feels pain. Mikhail can also will them to change colour whenever he wants, to playfully tease or if he is feeling mischievous.

Personality: Mikhail is a very affectionate sort of werewolf, and always has been. He’s warm and friendly, always ready to listen to someone, to let them share their problems with him, safe in the knowledge that he won’t share the secrets to anyone else, always being very good at keeping them. The youthful wolf is more at home listening and helping people than talking about himself and does what he can to make sure people are happy and get along with each other. Mikhail can be considered rather naive for his age, only too willing to believe the best in people and the world, to trust without reservation. He is remarkably innocent in some respects and almost child-like in some of his actions and choices. Although he has lost a little of that innocence now, a little of the naivety over the passing of the decades, mentally growing, he isn’t at all cynical or closed off. The world is still very much new and exciting, something to explore and learn from, full of happy times.

On the opposite side however, for all that he cares about people and tries to keep them happy, he is hopeless at reading and understanding body language, so much so that unless someone literally spelled it out to him, he wouldn’t realise that someone disliked him or was bored with the way the conversation was going. He’s also no good at picking up other sorts of undercurrents in the air, such as stress or tension and on more than one occasion has entered a room completely oblivious to otherwise clear signals. Mikhail also has troubles when it comes to dangerous situations, again with his inability to recognize signals, simply not realising people could be or are actually a threat.

His pack is everything to Mikhail, believing intensely in the importance of family and friends. Spending time together, being social is what having a family is all about. There is little he wouldn’t do for them, even if he knows that in reality that there is very little of any real importance that he could actually do to help or protect them. Mikhail does his best by trying to keep the spirits of others high, hoping that if he acts happy and keeps other people happy then the pack as a whole will be better off.

Winter is his favourite time of year, the increased chill in the air and the few instances of snow reminding him of Russia and his home. It doesn’t matter to him that he doesn’t remember much about the county, he remembers enough and uses the season to keep it alive. The cold also gives him the excuse he needs to wear his collection of coats more often, despite not really feeling the drop in temperature. There is little he likes better than to snuggle down into one of his warmer coats and read some of his comic books – the distinction between comic and graphic novel hardly registers in his mind, and to Mikhail they are all the same.

It is uncertain if Mikhail is simply in denial about his life before meeting a pack or simply unable to understand the truth about it, but whichever the answer is, he doesn’t seem to realise that his childhood was anything other than normal, or that he should feel anger towards those who treated him badly. Part of him still somehow believes that he is still ‘owned’ by the family he grew up with, that he is betraying them by remaining in America and that he doesn’t deserve to have any life of his own. This lack of self confidence in himself is not always apparent, normally disguised by his cheerful attitude but it is always there, at the back of his mind and nearly always influences his actions.

Weaknesses: Like all werewolves, Mikhail is allergic to the metal silver; it can make him feel nauseous, burn him, poison and in extreme cases even kill him, depending on the proximity, quantity and the length of contact. Should it reach his lungs, heart or brain, not even his abilities would be able to heal it and he would eventually die. His desire to keep everyone happy, combined with his love for his family and the fact he can’t tell if people are a danger to him could be very easily used against him, to potentially devastating consequences. His lack of self-confidence could distract him in the wrong way.

Although he can control the wolf during the full moon it is still a tentative grip and every now and then he slips back, loosing control for a night, sometimes all although this doesn’t happen every month. In no way is he a fighter, despite attempts to learn, Mikhail simply not having the right mental mind set to be able to wield weapons with any skill, even his own natural wolf power, so should he be in a combat situation and unable to escape he would be easily defeated.

When dealing with a particularly stressful situation, or traumatic event, Mikhail has a bad habit of retreated into himself, hiding himself both physically and mentally and refusing to communicate or deal with the real world, which can cause obvious problems. He has a weakness in left hand, mostly intermitting aching and stiffness, whenever the joints in it have sized up or become still, for example if he has slept on it. Sometimes it can get to such a degree that it can become noticeable at a casual glance. He has a crippling phobia of fire, the very sight of it can cause him to freeze and feel uncomfortable, the sound and smell bringing up memories that he would rather keep hidden.

Abilities: Mikhail had all of the benefits that comes with being a werewolf, shared with all his kind; all five of his senses are enhanced, along with increased speed, strength, agility, endurance, stamina, balance and reflexes. He has a higher pain threshold than humans, and on the flip side, he heals at an advanced rate, along with the obvious skill to change from human to wolf and back again at will. Technically he can control himself during all three nights of the full moon. He is something of a comic book geek, and could quite cheerfully talk about the different universes, skills and powers all his heroes have. Aside from English, Mikhail can speak Russian and whenever he has the time, he practises reading and writing Cyrillic, wanting to improve himself as best he can. Mikhail also has a fairly decent singing voice, although he doesn’t always advertise the fact.

Weapons: He owns a single Smith and Wesson 40VE, which Isabella gave him, a weapon he at least knows how to point and fire with.

Prized Possessions: He counts some of his older or more favourite coats and jackets as ‘prized’, along with some of his more rarer comic books.

Home(s): The Four Seasons with the rest of the pack.

Continued below...

[Mikhail]

History: Many important figures in the region of Russia that Mikhail was born to had long known about the existence of werewolves. Some, the more religious members sought to destroy any wolves they could find, calling them abominations against God. They were hunted and killed, the humans banding together to drive out any attempt by a pack to settle, believing it their duty to remove the plague sent down on the land and to keep the human population safe.

Others, such as the Isyanov family, saw werewolves as an opportunity to be exploited and used, just like any animal or natural resource. It was a chance to make sure servants bound to the family would last forever, instead of having to worry about them reaching old age and dying. They were a limitless resource, ageing only until their prime and then remaining useful. There was the problem of the pure beast during the moon but the Isyanov’s had built a small series of strong stone outhouses which could double for holding pens when the full moon came. The head of the family in the 1830’s was a man named Dima Isyanov, a strong and ruthless businessman if it meant he could get what he wanted. Upon his marriage, Dima decided that when he conceived heirs they would need a pet and protector all in the same packet. More typical ideas were considered and then dismissed, the man soon settling on the thought of a werewolf. Not, however, a typical wolf like the ones sold and traded but rather one raised from childhood to be for his own child’s personal use with the idea that the wolf would then be passed on down the line.

Dima scoured the black-market that dealt in trading werewolf slaves, speaking with every contact he knew and putting out feelers for a baby. There was normally little sale value in infants, the very few children kept in pens and reared separately until they were old enough to work. Those wolves that still had any sense of self left attempted to avoid getting pregnant, not wanting to lose their child but almost by chance, Dima learned of a female in a nearby town that was pregnant and arranged to buy the baby off the family the wolf belonged to. It was a generous payment and a few months after the boy was born, Dima came to collect his new property.

Mikhail was named after the Saint’s day he had been purchased on and without Dima knowing when the pup had really been born – or indeed caring enough to try and find out – his date of being bought became his birthday. For the first few years of his life, he was raised away from the main Isyanov family by a female wolf that was also in service to the family, treated as some cross between a pet and a slave. Right from birth he was told he belonged to the people who lived in the main building, that he was something special, that he was destined for to belong to someone who hadn’t been born yet, that it would be his job to keep he or her happy no matter what. The wolf that raised him taught him as much as she dared, hoping that there would never be a child, that Mikhail would never be taken from her and for six years he remained with her.

Then the mistress of the house fell pregnant. At once, Mikhail became an important figure, taken from the servant who had raised him as her own. She was sold to another family, Dima not wanting the boy to have any other attachments or loyalties except to the members of his own family. Dima began to personally groom the six year old, giving him no more than the most basic of educations. Mikhail was taught to recognize a few written words, taught enough of the Russian language to be able to understand and communicate with the child but no more. Dima didn’t want the child to question his life or his purpose in it, fearing that too much education could turn him against the family and so he received less than an important servant in a large household would have been expected to. Mikhail was also given a surname, that of the family, another way to bind him to them.

Solemnly he waited as the wife went into labour, and nine hours later, the little girl, Evanova Isyanov was born. From the very day of the girl’s birth, Mikhail was there, doing what he could to help and following her everywhere. It didn’t take long for the two of them to bond, Evanova delighted with her ‘pet’.

During meal times he would sit on the floor next to Evanova and if he was very lucky he would be fed the same food, unlucky he would get leftovers later on, he would sleep in a little room next to hers that she had decorated. He went where she told him to go, walked with her when she wanted, played with her when she wanted and effectively lived for her. It was a degrading life, but Mikhail didn’t see it that way simply because it was the only way he had ever known and his education hadn’t gone on long enough for him to realise there was any other kind of life for people like him. As Evanova grew older, she began to want to leave the house more and more, and Mikhail’s boundaries were extended so that he could move freely over the grounds that the house owned, the acres of fields, the lake and the orchard, although he was expressly forbidden from ever crossing the invisible markers that led into town. Mikhail had no wish to break the rules, content to remain with Evanova when inside the family owned land and to wait for her to return. The young girl spoilt Mikhail, giving him treats, sweets that were intended for her alone, secretly teaching him bits of English so the two could communicate using a ‘secret’ language and generally treating him well. She always acted as though he belonged to her however, as if he truly was below her, a pet and nothing more. Evanova hated the three nights when Mikhail had to be locked up, the girl kicking up a fuss and screaming that her favourite toy had been denied her, her own personal play mate on demand.

Those nights scared Mikhail, the young boy still trying to come to terms with the beast inside of him, the knowledge that he was somehow a danger to the people he loved shocking and upsetting him. The wolf didn’t care about Evanova or Mr. Isyanov, didn’t recognize that it belonged to them, it just wanted to escape the small stone building and run wild and free.

Just as Evanova had spoilt Mikhail, so her parents had spoilt her and although when she was in a good mood she was sweetness herself and always treated her pet well, when she was angry she would take it out on the other servants, lording her position and even the fact she had her own pet against them all. As Evanova grew into her teens, she became a more difficult teenage, spending more and more time with Mikhail instead of her family or her books. She didn’t want to learn and she although she didn’t notice, she wouldn’t have understood the odd wistful look on Mikhail’s face as she turned down her lessons. Being given the chance to do anything, she couldn’t know what it felt like to want something. Mikhail never voiced his occasional traitorous thoughts, ashamed of them, of his wish to learn more than he had been allowed. He had no grip on anything outside basic reading and speech, was still unable to write by age twenty and it was accepted that this would be the way it would stay.

He contended himself with keeping Evanova happy, the two now spending most of their time outside in the grounds of the house, Mikhail often rowing her out into the middle of the small lake where she could talk and feel free of her parents, blaming them for a stuffy life, for imprisoning her and not letting her think for herself or do anything she wanted. The irony was lost on both of them.

On her seventeenth birthday, and when Mikhail was twenty-three, Evanova publicly disobeyed her parents and their wishes. It was not the first time she had kicked up a fuss but this time she had rejected an offer of marriage between herself and one of her father’s important business friends. Her parents didn’t press the issue, wanting their precious daughter to marry someone she wanted but they were inwardly furious with the way she had behaved and the way she had rejected it out of hand. There were ways to do things and she had neglected to use any of them. All this and more they told their only daughter, the girl simply laughing it off, uncaring. Even when they told her she was going to be punished, Evanova didn’t care – all their attempted before to discipline her had failed and she didn’t think there was anything they could do that could make her behave.

Dima however hit upon the bright idea of punishing her by taking her pet away from her for a time. He announced over dinner that during his next business trip, Mikhail would be coming with him. If Evanova apologised to her would be suitor for insulting him, it would be a one time deal. He put his foot down firmly, for the first time ever refusing to be moved by his daughters screams and temper tantrums and instead became more angry. He realised how foolish he and his wife had been for letting her get away with so much when she was younger. Soon he realised that a single short business trip wouldn’t be enough and so when the time came it was for a much larger trip.

They were going to America.

Dima’s business contacts required him to visit the relatively new country every other year, the process as a whole taking between three to six months, depending on weather and contacts. For Mikhail, who had never been beyond the boundaries of personal property all his life, to even see the amount of people in the first town they passed was a shock to the extremely sheltered young man. The trip itself passed in something of a blurred haze to him. Even in his wildest dreams, Mikhail had never imagined the world to be anywhere near as large as this and he wasn’t sure he could take it in. It made him want to run back to Russia, to the safety of what he knew.

Actually being in America, following Dima from business meeting to business meeting was at once both exciting and terrifying. He waited impatiently for the trip to end, feeling as if he was also being punished for Evanova’s misbehaviour. Despite all the wonders of the cities and new places he visited, Mikhail never saw much more than the inside of different rooms.

During one business deal, Mikhail couldn’t help but feel something was off about it. He’d sat patiently in the corner during every meeting Dima had, understanding about the actual meetings going far over his head. He didn’t know what was being discussed or what was being traded but the mood around the table was different somehow, more tense. The place where they were talking was a larger room than normal, and from his position in the corner, it felt draft and old, the furnishings shabby.

To this day, he still doesn’t know what really happened that night.

One moment he was staring at the floor and the next there was shouts and a scuffle from the table in the middle of the room. Mikhail jumped to his feet in time to see one of the men plunge a dagger into Dima’s neck, the Russian going down in a spray of blood. Without thinking, Mikhail moved towards them, towards the only person he knew in the country. Even with his werewolf speed and strength on his side, Mikhail was no match for the human with the weapon. The young wolf didn’t know how to fight or even avoid blows, his whole attention fixed on Dima’s still form. Somehow, the human got behind him, stabbing him deep in his right shoulder, the blow sending him first to his knees and a moment later he collapsed completely.

He lay on his side, a few feet away from Dima, floating in and out of any real sense of sharp awareness. Mikhail had never suffered any kind of real injury during his life, his role of pampered pet meaning he had been kept away from anything remotely dangerous and it was the shock of the pain and the assault more than anything that kept him down. Vaguely he heard the men who had attacked them talk and laugh before the sound of lquid being poured onto the floor and a sharp smell, that he reqonzied but in his haze, couldn’t work out what. The men stood over him for a moment, apparently amused that he was still alive before simply walking away as he crawled towards Dima, hand reaching out for the human who had been dead before he hit the floor. Mikhail didn’t understand the concept of death, didn’t know it could happen and he couldn’t understand why Dima wouldn’t wake up as he pleaded, voice scared and pained from the wound on his back.

Another sound caught his attention, senses belatedly kicking into gear as he finally realised what the scent had been and what was going on now – the room was on fire, the men responsible for torching the place long gone and trusting to the flames to finish off the wolf and destroy all the evidence of the crimes. He stayed in the room as long as he could, still desperately pleading to the body to wake up. Mikhail even tried to carry him out but the blood made it hard to grip and the wound on his back kept him from using any real upper body strength. It was only when the fire was almost at them, the smoke threatening to overcome him that he moved, survival instincts kicking in at last although the event left him mentally terrified of flames.

Mikhail fled; shoulder wound still bleeding although not as badly as before. In shock, covered in blood and soot, he wandered out of the small town without any destination in mind, just putting one foot in front of the next. He was still deeply in shock, lost and alone. By complete fluke he wandered into the territory of a wolf pack, before dropping down unconscious. Even then, it was mere coincidence that led to him being discovered, a scouting party of the pack stumbling upon him while checking the edges of their homes.

He woke a short time later to find two other wolves in the room, his injury tended to and generally cleaned up. His stunned mind and lack of any real English made it hard to understand each other, but eventually Mikhail was able to focus enough to learn the names of those who had saved him, alpha wolves Neal and Isabella.

For the first few weeks he didn’t leave the room they had given him, he hardly left the bed. Bit by bit, through the odd words he knew and miming, he was able to give them a rough idea of his life and his past, Mikhail wanting desperately to return home. But he didn’t know where home was. Home had always been ‘The House’ and nothing more, Mikhail never learning the name of the town or even the area of Russia he came from and so the pack was forced to tell him gently that he couldn’t return home if he didn’t know how. Mikhail didn’t know what to do. Everything he had ever known had vanished in the fire and the behaviour of the wolves in the pack didn’t match up with the few wolves he had known growing up. He was very much a child mentally, surprised by new things.

The male alpha began to teach him English, the other wolf apparently being skilled in languages although Russian wasn’t one of them. As Mikhail became able to talk more and more with his new pack, they seemed surprised at how little he really knew about the world or anything in particular. More and more details about his childhood emerged, Mikhail simply not understanding any attempts by the others to explain that what the humans had done was wrong – to him they were still his owners and although he accepted his life was changed beyond anything he had ever dreamed, he still missed the only life he knew.

There was much to explore in America however and now that he was encouraged to learn, Mikhail was able to push his homesickness aside, swallowing up as much as he could. It was almost too much to take in, how little he knew, the young Russian feeling ridiculously proud when he finally mastered the art of reading, joy at learning keeping him busy.

Unknown to him, his new pack had troubles of its own. Recently a rival pack had settled on the fringes of the territory, the same wolves that had prompted the group who had found him to be out at all. They lurked around the edges, gazing with jealous eyes on the land owned by them. The enemy bided their time, watching and learning what they could although without insider knowledge they knew there was little chance of taking what they wanted in a fair fight.

Determined to beat down the establish pack, the group of rogues simply cheated.

One day a small group of fighters took Mikhail out with them, just to show him around, to try and get him out of the buildings more. It was then that the enemy wolves chose to attack, using their greater number to swoop down on the small band. It didn’t take the leader long to realise that Mikhail was the only non-fighter there and the original plan, to simply try and force the information out of whatever wolf they grabbed was changed. The larger group beat down the fighters as best they could and grabbed Mikhail before retreating, the wounded wolves unable to follow at once.

Reasoning that someone who wasn’t a fighter wouldn’t have been trained to resist interrogation, the alpha male of the group began to work on his captive, starting by crushing his fingers on his left hand one by one, and then grinding down on the back of his hand, splintering the bones and listening to Mikhail screaming in agony while calmly asking questions over and over again about the defence of the pack, number of fighters and how skilled they were. They were questions that he couldn’t answer, simply never having taken the time in his short stay with the pack to ever learn those kind of details. Even if he had known, his English was still too poor to give the details the brutal wolf wanted and so the torment continued, attention shifting from his hand to his ribs and then on to other parts, the male knowing exactly where to hurt him.

It seemed like an age but it didn’t take long for the pack to track down the rogue group. By the time his rescuers burst into the room, Mikhail was curled up in a ball on the floor, trying desperately to protect himself while the other wolf rained kicks down on him, having completely lost his temper with the young man, so much so that a sort of bloodlust had taken over and he was blind to everything else, even the scent of the enemy wolves and the sound of his pack being defeated. It was Isabella who moved forward before any of the other fighters could react, using one of her weapons to cleanly slice the head from his body before carelessly tossing him aside, interested only in getting to her pack member, letting the rest of the group clean up the remaining enemy.

Part of Mikhail hadn’t expected anyone to come to his rescue, the young wolf retreated back into his room after the attack just as he had upon his arrival. He also retreated mentally, refusing to talk to anyone while he remained as alone as he could make himself, only speaking to people to thank them for food or when his injuries needed re-dressing. It was only once all his injuries had healed that he began to slowly start to interact with the pack again, slightly more skittish and nervous than before, suddenly acutely aware of how weak he was. There were no other attacks, no other dangers and his natural personality started to kick in again after a number of years, the friendly werewolf starting to smile more and fit in with his new family.

He didn’t take much interest in the fighters or the running of the pack, content to remain simply a pack member and so if there were any hints that a change was coming again, he was oblivious to them. The announcement that the pack was moving, merging with a larger one came as a surprise, but he followed his Alphas as the group moved to LA and Rayne’s pack, roughly twenty years after he had first arrived in America.

The city they were now living in was growing by the day, almost by the hour and practically pulsing with more life than he had seen in the past few decades put together. Combined with the fact that the only Alpha’s he had ever known were now simply fighters and not the leaders made the city seem even more alien although he soon came to terms with it. He’s never felt quite as comfortable with his current Alpha’s as he did with his pervious ones, finding them a little more distant but for now he is happy enough with where he is, watching the world go by and safe with his family inside the hotel, spending his time learning whatever new information he can about the world.