Johanne Dahlman

[Johanne]

NAME: Johanne Dahlman.
NICKNAMES: Given the origin of her name, and the fact that it sounds very ‘proper’ in a way, and of course because it can be difficult for some people to say properly, she prefers to go by the simple abbreviation Jo; she doesn’t openly discourage people from using her full name so long as they can pronounce it correctly, but she still gives new acquaintances the option, and lets them decide for themselves.
RACE: Werewolf; pureborn.
OCCUPATION: Pack Fighter.
GENDER: Female.
SKIN COLOUR: Caucasian with a subtle tan.
NATIONALITY: Dutch.
AGE: 402 years old, but actually looks in her early twenties, physically.
CLOTHING: Johanne isn’t a fussy individual, wearing whatever makes her comfortable, preferring airier fabrics that give her body room to move, and materials that let her breathe, as it were. She isn’t overly fond of anything tight or restricting unless she needs it for something related to her position, such as an outing where stealth would be required and tighter clothing would reduce the risk of snagging or tripping and so on. Normally she can be found in a shirt of some variety, or even a simple blouse without any kind of silly frills or lace; she isn’t the most overly-feminine she-wolf in the world and never will be, though she does have her days where she likes to look a bit more ‘girly’, though she hates that term and refuses to use it unless it’s in order to mock something. She’s fond of slacks and jeans, the latter usually riding around her hips comfortably, sometimes with a belt and sometimes without, depending on her mood. In terms of colours, she’s not choosy, but loathes pink; absolutely cannot stand it, and therefore absolutely will not wear it. When it comes to footwear, she’s fond of a pair of flat-soled black suede-finish zip-up boots that almost reach her knees, and wears them as much as possible, though she does mix and match, sometimes wearing sneakers and if the occasion calls for it, tossing on a pair of actual heels; she owns a few pairs of sandals that are easy to slip on to slouch around in, and has a comfy pair of wolf slippers that growl when you squeeze the ears. For jackets, she has a waist-length brown leather number and a black sort of denim jacket that goes down past her hips. Being an archer, Johanne obviously has the forearm guards and ‘gloves’ that come with being a professional, all of which are black leather.
HEIGHT: 5’6.
WEIGHT: 132lbs.
TATTOOS: Despite not being the most feminine pack wolf, the tattoo she bears does have a touch of femininity to it; completely black save for only a touch of green and lilac, but extremely detailed, it depicts a single tree on a barren landscape with dead leaves along the bottom and a single, blooming vine of flowers and buds at the base of the trunk. There are also clouds to finish the design, with hints of mountain peaks. The tattoo is on her back, the tree arching up the left side of her ribcage, reaching to what would amount to the bottom of her chest and going down to her waistline, where the dead leaves fade off. Obviously, it can be seen if her shirts ride up, or if she is wearing some sort of clothing that shows her back.

PIERCINGS: N/A.
JEWELLERY: Johanne wears, without fail, a white gold chain which bears three pendants: the crucifix was given to her as a child, something she has always worn despite not believing in typical religion; the rings belonged to her parents, serving as wedding bands. The larger was obviously her father’s, while the smaller, stone-set ring was her mother’s. The chain is in no way sentimental, but the pendants are, in her mind, absolutely priceless and completely irreplaceable, which is why she is never seen without them.

BODY MODIFICATIONS: Being a born wolf, Johanne has no scars from any turning, but she has been a fighter for some time, and bears the telltale marks of such a lifestyle; little crisscross patterns and odd patches of paler, smoother skin here and there. The most vivid is along her right side, in line with her ribs, where she was very badly wounded in the past, and it is not a scar that she wears with any sort of pride at all.

WOLF FORM.

BUILD: Built very much like a common wolf, Johanne is much sleeker than anything you would find in the wild or nature preserves and zoos, with much longer legs, more muscular in her joints but not bulkily so; because she lacks the extra joint in her hind legs, she cannot stand biped at all, let alone move around on two legs, restricted to quadruped movement at all times. Her paws, each housing wicked claws, the former with dewclaws, are very large in comparison to what would be average for a common wolf, but her head is very ‘normal’ for a creature of her appearance, and she has a solid but not overly-thick neck, and though she is lean, she is by no means scrawny. Her ears are of average proportion and height, and she has a suitably thick, full tail.
HEIGHT: Quadruped; 4’3.
WEIGHT: 241lbs.
HAIR: Mostly white, Johanne’s pelt covers her entire body from muzzle to tail. There are several different shades of grey flecked through her coat, but compared to her true markings, they are far from distinct; in the form of stripes, some jaggedly angular and others smooth in shape and curve, she has dark grey stripes, ranging in shades with the darkest obviously being black. The stripes are at random point over her body, with one or two over her main torso and sides, a few on her legs, some streaking through her tail, and a generous assortment around her neck and a few on her head, above her eyes and down the centre of her skull running down her spine like a dorsal stripe.
EYES: Pale gold with a bright, light pupil of the same sort of colour.
DEFINING MARKS: Her eyes, her wolfen appearance and stripes on her coat.

PACK.
PACK: Rayne’s pack.
POSITION: Pack Fighter; Sniper.
TERRITORY: Rayne’s side of Los Angeles.

HAIR.[/i]
LENGTH: Reaching to her shoulder blades at the back, at its longest, Johanne has several different layers for body and to give her human mane some shape; at it’s shortest, it reaches to varying points around her brows and cheeks.
STYLE: Johanne’s hair carries a natural, noticeable curl, that while not tight is definitely easy to see; she always lets her hair dry naturally or it has the tendency to frizz, and she never really fusses beyond some hair mousse, unless she’s out and about in ‘fighter mode’, wherein she will pull the length back completely, taking all the hair away from her face into a tight, neat ponytail or twist so it doesn’t get in her way at all, or hinder her vision.
COLOUR: A rich, dark brown with lighter, natural highlights throughout.

FACIAL HAIR.[/i]
LENGTH: N/A.
STYLE: N/A.

EYES.[/i]
COLOUR: Blue.
ODDITIES: Like any werewolf, Johanne’s eyes will flash or completely flood to their lupine hue if she is teasing or attempting to intimidate someone, or the change will happen automatically if she is experiencing some sort of intense, sudden emotion or reaction, such as anger or pain.

PERSONALITY: Johanne is normally a very serious individual, but she is by no means without a sense of humour. She is just what some might call a textbook fighter, the sort of she-wolf who knows the world is a terrible place and doesn’t lie to herself about it, though she will try to put on an optimistic front for the benefit of those younger or more naïve or innocent than herself. She is in no way cold or heartless, but she isn’t the sort who tolerates something that doesn’t sit right with her; she will share her opinions on just about any subject, speak up when something bothers her, and walk out of any situation that downright rubs her the wrong way. She doesn’t take much in the way of crap, even though some might argue that she is, in a way, a contradiction; she hates the leaders of the pack, all of them, and hardly makes it a secret. She disagrees with just about everything they do, was hardly enthusiastic when they took command even though she was young at the time and therefore hardly about to argue with the shift in power because it wasn’t her place. For now, she tolerates it if only because she feels she has to; she does her job, and puts up with their presences, because that is pack, and she is a wolf who cannot be without a pack.

She knows this from experience, and it is her biggest shame to date. She will not easily broach the subject, dislikes discussing it with others, and does her best to discourage any conversation surrounding her time as a rogue. She is embarrassed about it, about how long she lasted — or didn’t last, more to the point — and the way in which she returned. And more than anything, she hates that she lacks the courage to pick herself up and leave again, to try her hand at life as a rogue once more, because deep down, she is terrified that the pack will cut her off for good; shun her, quite simply, for being fickle and for that reason alone, untrustworthy. Unreliable.

Still, even with this dislike of her leaders and her desire to be more powerful and independent, Johanne is loyal to the pack, would fight for it viciously, and can be very vicious in her role; she may be a long-distance fighter more than anything close combat, but she can be just as ruthless and brutal as any other wolf warrior, and is proud of that more than anything else. She knows she is strong, and though she wishes to be better, she is confident in her ability to be a defender. She aspires to be as much like her role-model, Tate Reyes, as possible, and more than anything, she wishes to see the other female again, to know that she is safe, and possibly even happy, and if not, she hopes that some day the other she-wolf will return to the pack. Johanne has friends in the pack, gets along very well with many of them, but Tate was someone she viewed as invaluable in her life, especially after she lost her mother, and when she left, the younger female knew she would miss her, a lot. And she does.

Johanne mostly spends her time, day to day, just surviving; just doing what she can to pass the time and keep her skills honed, not exactly fading into the background but not craving the limelight either. She is very much one of the pack, as much as she desires change, and change for the better this time.

WEAKNESSES: Being a werewolf, Johanne cannot escape the weaknesses of the race, and as such, she is completely intolerant of silver, which will nauseate her in proximity, burn her upon contact or poison her blood; ultimately, it could kill her if the infection were to reach any major organ, such as the lungs, heart or brain. Johanne’s wolf form is a weakness in a way, given its inability to stand erect, limiting her manoeuvrability in a combat situation, but really, she doesn’t let it affect her, or at least tries not to.

Emotionally, Johanne’s take on the leaders of the pack taints her view of any major decision made; she distrusts them, and has a very hard time coming to terms with what is sensible and what is rash or hasty, and so she thinks about things too much, and sometimes not all that clearly. She tries to decide too much for herself, which is ridiculous given that she is a younger fighter and therefore has many others above her to look to and trust, which she does, but the authority she has lived with has made it hard for her to automatically turn to those senior to her in any way.

Physically, the wound Johanne sustained at a significant point in her history weakens her on her right side, whether she is in human or wolf form, and though she does try to hide it, she isn’t the best at such deception, which could not only make her falter in a fight, but betray the weakness to any enemy she might be fighting, therefore creating a window of opportunity for an underhanded attack. The area around her ribs on the right side becomes sore, aching fiercely at times, especially after a good deal of exertion, and leaves her feeling winded or just miserable, both physically and mentally. It is a weakness she hardly likes to be reminded of, after all.

ABILITIES: Johanne has all the benefits of being a werewolf: heightened senses, agility, grace, balance, endurance, pain threshold, healing factor, awareness, strength and speed; the ability to leap to, from and across great distances without physical penalty; and of course, the capability of changing from woman to wolf and back again, completely at will. Because of her age, Johanne is entirely in control of her wolfen side, and the changes that carry her either way. The full moon no longer influences her physically, though it does leave her more sensitive to things around the peak of the lunar cycle; her own emotions, the reactions of her wolf, scents and sounds etc.

Johanne is a very capable fighter, and proud of that fact, having worked hard to reach her physical level; she is skilled in hand-to-hand combat, preferring the less delicate forms of fighting, such as kickboxing and she even utilises a few moves she has learned through observation, which could best be described as street-fighting or general roughhousing at best. She isn’t afraid to fight dirty, if she has to. She can fire a gun very well, obviously having exemplary marksmanship skills, and can reload a revolver very quickly, explaining her choice of firearms, and can wield a blade with passable skill, but her real talent lies in archery; she wouldn’t go so far as to say she’s the best, she knows Isabella is better than her, for example, and looks up to the older female for that proficiency, but if she were to compete, she would go far, she knows that much. She can use a variety of different bows, including a crossbow, and practises with them often.

Because of her heritage, Johanne not only speaks, reads and writes fluent English, but also Dutch, German and West Frisian. She has never attempted to learn any other languages, leaving that to other linguistically inclined members of the pack, and besides, four languages is more than enough for her. Johanne also bakes, nothing spectacular that could be sold in stores or anything else so extravagant, but she knows her way around an oven, and can often be found whipping up batches of cookies or trying her hand at a cake or two. She has one specific recipe for a type of cake that her mother taught her, a recipe she has vowed never to share.

WEAPONS: Johanne, being an archer, has a variety of bows: an Armex Olympic Recurve; a 2000 Maverick Express Recurve; a Sceptre Black Furious; and a Barnett Wildcat crossbow. She also has a pair of Smith & Wesson .44 Magnum revolvers for when the bows don’t suit her purposes, which admittedly is a rare occurrence, and though she doesn’t keep any blades on her person for close combat, she can utilise any of her arrows as handheld weapons. The arrows she does wield are always doused in Holy Water before any outing where she carries a bow, and she even has several silver laced or tipped projectiles, in case she needs to tackle any rogue werewolves or enemy pack members.

PRIZED POSSESSIONS: The necklace she wears is undoubtedly the most prized possession she has, and she would gladly tell anyone as much; she is even extremely wary of anyone but herself touching the necklace, let alone handling it or taking it from her. Though she is fond of all of her bows, they are far from irreplaceable, regardless of how long she spends on each one, tuning them to her unique preferences and abilities.

HOME(S): The Four Seasons, along with the rest of the pack.


Continued below…

[Johanne]

HISTORY: Adrianus and Helena Dahlman had originally intended to remain in the Netherlands as long as they both lived, or until one thing or another literally drove them out, but they had also never really intended to have a child; that wasn’t to say that Helena’s pregnancy wasn’t something to be excited about, but it was also something to worry about. They might have been able to cope well enough as rogues by themselves, but a child was another matter altogether. A child meant new dangers, new uncertainties and greater threats, and neither mother nor father to be wanted such a life for their son or daughter, whatever the child ended up being. It was that concern that drove them to hunt for a pack, a search that took them all over their native country, and eventually, all the way over Europe and eventually out of it, crossing the Channel to England. By the time they reached the British Isles in 1604, little Johanne had been born, increasing her parents’ fear that they would never find a good pack. And their journey had been far from risk free so far.

Adrianus had done his best to keep his mate and unborn child protected, having fought more times than he was really able to handle by himself, and by the time Johanne came along, he was weary, more so than any werewolf should have been. Any healthy werewolf, anyway. He hid his condition as best as he could, thankful that his mate was suitably distracted with their young child so his own condition could be easily brushed off in favour of the baby. Day after day, he would venture out to find them a pack, and finally, after several months of failure, and tentative relocation across the country, he found something. Hurrying home out of breath and paler than ever, Adrianus instructed Helena to gather everything she and the baby would need, and he packed their bags hastily; not two hours later, the Dahlmans found themselves face-to-face with a tall blonde female by the name of Mackenzie Jameson. Adrianus did most of the talking, having encouraged his mate to be silent so he could win the Alpha over, and it was during his speech that Helena realised what was actually happening.

Her mate was asking permission for Helena and their daughter to enter the pack, but not himself. He was pointedly leaving himself out, in fact, and the Alpha encouraged them to have a moment to themselves, especially since she seemed to realise what was happening before Helena herself did. Turning on her mate, she tried to demand an explanation, but that was when she saw his eyes, the clouded hue of them, and she realised in that instant what was going on.

Adrianus was dying. He had been dying for some time. He had kept the wound hidden from his distracted mate who was tired in her own rights, their young daughter demanding all of her attention, and the silver-laced injury had gone untreated too long. Adrianus’ blood was infected, and it was only a matter of time before it reached his major organs, and shut everything down. He could no longer breathe properly, or without pain, and they both knew he didn’t have long left. He told Helena that this was the best he could do for them, even when his mate argued that the pack could help him, despite knowing for herself that it was a hollow hope. It was too late. Adrianus simply smiled, shook his head, and looked to Mackenzie, who nodded her head without a word. In that one gesture, she had agreed to take Helena and Johanne into her pack, and she even moved to guide the female and her baby away from her dying mate, Adrianus having kissed his ‘wife’ and his baby’s head one last time, the ailing male only remaining in sight long enough to mouth a farewell to her. And then he was gone, never to be seen or heard from again, and Helena tried her very best to move on. As one of the pack was watching Johanne while she unpacked her meagre belongings into a room that would always now feel cold without her beloved mate to share it with, she found something in one of the satchel’s buckled pouches that, while it broke her heart, reminded her that Adrianus had given her and their daughter a life.

His ring, and the crucifix he had worn for as long as she could remember. She wore the two on a chain, both pendants at once, every day, without fail. After this, every waking moment was spent devoting her time and attention to her daughter, who quickly began to grow into an adventurous, strong character, taking after her father in many ways, unbeknownst to little Johanne. The young werewolf learned early on that asking about her father was painful to her mother, and so, at a young age, she stopped altogether, having gathered enough information in what short talks came of any inquiries that he had died, but that he had brought them to the pack first, and for that alone, Johanne respected and loved the father she had never met.

It was after her first change from girl to wolf, something that scared and exhilarated her considering how long she had been looking forward to the true beginning of her lycanthropic life, that her mother gave her the necklace that she was never seen without, taking it from her own neck and draping it over Johanne’s head with only a quiet, proud smile. Johanne had thought to protest, but out of respect for her mother, and her late father, whose ring and cross she now wore, she held her tongue, accepted the gift graciously, and vowed to herself that she would always treasure it.

Several years passed before Johanne’s life took a turn, and for the worse. She had been content to remain as she was, one of the crowd without distinction or position, happy with her mother’s teachings of languages and heritage and baking, but it was one day in the middle of September when she was just over fifty years of age that the group with which her mother had headed out returned, out of breath, clothing torn, wounds showing.

Her mother was not among them.

Immediately she asked where her mother was, demanded the answers when her respectful inquiries were ignored while those present spoke only to the Alpha, and before they even opened their mouths to tell her, the reality hit home.

Her mother was dead.

She demanded to know where her body was, so that they could bury her. Realising that they had left it behind, Johanne defied pack regulation and simply stormed out of their manor home, refusing to think about any threat while she walked in the pouring rain, searching for the one thing she didn’t want to find. When she literally stumbled upon her mother’s motionless form, Johanne’s composure cracked, and she lost track of time as she knelt there in the mud, sobbing and failing to understand. Why had her mother died? Why hadn’t the fighters in the group protected her? Finally, others from the pack arrived, and helped Johanne carry her mother back home, where they agreed to help bury her. Johanne, having sunk into an emotionally vacant sort of depression, removed her mother’s ring from her hand, adding it to her father’s about her neck, before they buried Helena Dahlman.

For months after the burial, Johanne did nothing. She didn’t bake, she didn’t laugh, barely socialised at all; she ate only the bare minimum, and that was at the encouragement of others, the mourning female hating to be badgered while she was grieving. It was only while she wandered, aimlessly, about the manor one day and happened upon one of the others training that she sort of stumbled out of her stupor, hovering in the doorway and watching the other female move. It inspired Johanne, triggered something in her brain that told her she didn’t have to be angry about the fighters’ ineptitude any more, not if she could be one of them.

And so she started to train, started to spend more and more time with the female who had inspired her, Tate Reyes becoming a very real role-model to Johanne, who wanted to learn as much as she could, and as weeks turned into months, and months into years, the grief faded away, replaced by determination, the driving need to prove herself and make something of the Dahlman name; to make her parents proud, almost. She fell in love with archery, striving to become as adept as she could, as skilled as possible, spending hours at a time firing arrow after arrow into the targets, studying the weapons and learning their quirks and nuances to better help her understand their workings when in use.

Of course, when there was a shift within the pack’s ranks and Tate ultimately left, Johanne was stunned, and didn’t know what to do with herself. How could she train to be the best if the best wasn’t around to learn from anymore, to teach her? It rattled her more than she cared to admit, and started in motion a series of thoughts that would almost end Johanne’s life.

It was only after the pack had relocated to America that Johanne finally summoned her courage, did what she thought was for the best. She left too. Simply packed only her most prized possessions and just left. It wasn’t quite what she expected, to say the least. Life as a rogue was far from ideal; she suddenly found she had nothing to support herself with, hunting her own food with only her bow and her claws, and some days, she wouldn’t eat at all, not until she offered to hunt game for those willing to pay for her services, something that brought in just enough money for her to stay at whatever modest little tavern would take her in. She kept her lycanthropy secret as best she could, releasing the wolf if and when she had to, still a decade or so off achieving her control, much to her concern and shame.

Johanne lasted seven months before being made to regret her choice. Her desire to be independent ultimately almost killed her, and it was while she was surrounded by more enemies than she could handle alone that her own vulnerability was cast into harsh relief. A brutal wound was ripped along her side, leaving her breathless and badly dazed, trying to stop the bleeding, and with the shock of the wound, she didn’t notice whatever it was that spooked her attackers, causing them to scatter and leave her for dead. Johanne might not have been the best-versed with medicine, which no doubt hardly helped the situation, but she knew that the wound was deep, too much for her lycanthropy to heal without intervention from someone who knew what they were doing, medically. She was scared; she couldn’t go to the towns, to any of the doctors there, they would realise she wasn’t human, and she had heard horror stories about wolves being accused of witchcraft and burned alive, or otherwise put to death.

She only had one option open to her, as agonising as it was.

So, terrified that she wouldn’t find them, she picked herself up, limping and half-dragging herself along the path she had once travelled in the opposite direction, praying to a god she didn’t believe in that they hadn’t already moved on. Clearly, fate was in her favour that day, because when she all but fell against the front door of the large house she had last known the pack to inhabit, someone she recognised opened it, and even as she almost fell through the door to the floor, she felt a shamed sort of relief.

Over the next week, she kept to herself, ashamed of her inability to last on her own, and feeling awkward around any and all pack members, even those who brought her food or came to change her dressings. They spoke to her, of course, weren’t about to ignore her, but she felt as if she was working on borrowed time, as if she was only being permitted inside the pack home while she was healing; that they would reject her again when she was well enough to leave.

To her surprise, that wasn’t the case, and as time ticked past once again, she found herself fitting back into the pack, half-wondering at times if she was about to find herself with the title of Omega, but that never happened. Even tension started to sweep through the pack like a brutal wave for the first time, Johanne remained a pack member, at least until she voiced her desire to become a fighter once again, to continue her training. Rayne and Dante permitted her to do so, and so, once again, she threw herself back into her training. When the control over her changes and her wolf finally came to her, she felt some of the tension within herself drop away; she had passed a milestone, and now, she had nothing holding her back.

Often, she would ask behind closed doors if there was any news of Tate, but those she asked either knew nothing or were intimidated by the topic, not wanting to ‘make waves’, and so, Johanne was forced to face facts; it wasn’t to be talked about, and even as things continued to change, as an influx of new members arrived and her own status as fighter was granted after a series of tests and challenges, planned or otherwise, she never stopped thinking about her role-model, the good friend who had had what it took to go rogue, and survive, for she knew Tate hadn’t buckled like she had. The other female couldn’t be dead, after all; either she had joined another pack, or she was still out there alone somewhere, fighting tooth and claw, as Johanne knew she would be.

Now, with the pack in Los Angeles and tensions thicker than ever before, Johanne has come to hate what has become of them all; she still looks back fondly on the days when the pack was proud and strong, even under one leader, and wants nothing more than to have that back again. Unfortunately, though, Johanne just doesn’t know how they can reclaim that. Part of her knows that, somehow, the Argentineans will right all the wrongs, but part of her has to wonder: is it too late to repair the damage? Are they all destined to suffer for their leaders’ ignorance?

Johanne does know one thing: only time will tell.