Post by Steven on Jan 19, 2006 23:12:44 GMT
NAME: Steven Manning.
NICKNAMES: Cole sometimes calls him Steve or Stevey which are the only nicknames he will tolerate, and officially only from him, however the female leaders get away with calling him those as well, and no doubt a couple of other wolves within the pack call him that behind his back.
RACE: Werewolf – Born.
OCCUPATION: The Beta male of Cole’s pack.
GENDER: Male.
SKIN COLOUR: Caucasian with an all over tan that can make his skin seem almost olive coloured at times.
NATIONALITY: Irish.
AGE: 683, although physically he appears to be in his early thirties.
CLOTHING: Steven has moved on easily enough with the times, keeping up to date with the clothing of the day although he tends to shun any particular ‘fashion’, especially the more extreme ones. His clothing is always tasteful and subtle, full of quiet, earthy tones, such as greens, browns, and blues. Typically he is to be found dressed in a simple enough buttoned up shirt, sleeves ever so slightly long, and normally pushed back a little although he does like having them hang over his hands during causal times. There is nothing fancy about his outfits, preferring comfort and movement over anything else, and as such he will nearly always be seen in jeans or other comfortable trousers, favouring black and grey shades. On his feet he always wears sturdy black boots. He can dress up smart when the need arises of course, choosing simple suits and ties but he is more at home semi-casual. If its cold or he needs to wear a coat for whatever reason then Steven tends to prefer those that reach past his waist, more knee length styles. Once again he leans towards earth colours however in this respect it also includes lighter shades, browns and creams.
HEIGHT: 5’11”.
WEIGHT: 171lbs.
TATTOOS: While it may seem an odd choice for a werewolf, Steven has the tattoo of a silver bullet on the inside of his right arm, just above his elbow, to remind him of his own mortality. He has a second tattoo which few people know about and even fewer have seen, located on the inside of his left wrist, normally covered by his watch strap of the tri-force from his favourite computer game.
PIERCINGS: None, as he doesn’t see the point in them.
JEWELLERY: On his left hand, where someone would normally wear a wedding band, Steven has a gold ring, interlaid with Celtic knots, the only thing he has left which belonged to his father. Around his neck, he wears a dull gold chain and a worn gold medallion. He typically wears a thick leather strap watch on his left arm.
BODY MODIFICATIONS: His age and position as first a fighter and then the Beta have all ensured that he carries around on his body a number of scars and marks from his life. The only one of any real note however is a scar roughly two inches across, located just above his heart, the scar white and raised, jagged at one end where the knife was roughly pulled back out.
WOLF FORM
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BUILD: Steven’s wolf form rather resembles that of the ‘wolf-man’, in common folk lore, a beast of terror that holds only a slight resemblance to a wild wolf, mostly in the head. He is tall and lanky, with long skinny limbs. He is build for speed more than anything else, capable of covering great distances in a remarkably short amount of time and while he possesses a respectable strength, most of his power comes from his jaw and claws. While he is far more comfortable standing upright, he is able to drop down onto four legs if he has to, but such a choice greatly limits his speed and dexterity. He has a muscular chest and lower limbs, both of which help his speed, while his arms trail into large hands with very sharp and deadly claws attached to each ‘digit’, having the full dexterity of a human hand. There is no visible neck to lead onto his head, which is the bulkiest portion of his body, going into a narrow muzzle with large, strong teeth. His ears are rather large and flop over themselves at the very tips.
HEIGHT: Biped – 8’8”; Quadruped – 4’3”
WEIGHT: 362lbs.
HAIR: There is very little actual hair over the majority of Steven’s wolf, the body and limbs covered in a very faint, fine brown which is the same colour as his skin, making it appear from a distance as though he is mostly hairless. He has little tuffs of hair at various points in his body, in the same colour as the rest, but this is far thicker, appearing on his elbows and his ears. The most noticeable hair on his body is certainly the hair around his head, creating a mane like effect which blocks any view of his neck and provides sturdy protection.
EYES: Ink black.
DEFINING MARKS: No tail.
PACK[/u]
PACK: Cole’s pack.
POSITION: Beta male.
TERRITORY: Cole’s side of L.A.
HAIR[/u]
LENGTH: The length of Steven’s hair is never constant, as he often cuts it, only to grow it back out. At the moment it is on the longer side, longest at the back, where it stops just above the nape of his neck, decreasing slightly in length around his ears, enough to cover his sideburns but not going any further. To match the rest of his hair he has grown his fringe so that it is only just shorter than the rest of his hair.
STYLE: He rarely spends any serious time on his hair, generally just combing it through and letting it sit as it falls straight around his head. The only real exception is with his fringe, Steven having a side parting to the right and brushing it off his forehead so it doesn’t fall into his eyes. It naturally curls out ever so subtly at the ends, flicking outward and upwards.
COLOUR: A medium warm brown.
FACIAL HAIR[/u]
LENGTH: Typically a couple of days worth growth on his face, not enough to count as a full beard but enough to be obvious. On rare occasions he will be completely clean shaven.
STYLE: Simply as it grows, he will trim it a little to keep it neat, but otherwise it covers his chin, up the side of his face and under his nose.
EYES[/u]
COLOUR: Brown.
ODDITIES: Like all werewolves, whenever Steven 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. Steven can also will them to change colour whenever he wants, to playfully tease or if he is feeling mischievous.
PERSONALITY: At times Steven can appear to be something of a contradictions, he can be rather immature for his age and much more importantly, he can appear immature for the position he holds within the pack. He is a huge fan of video games as a whole, finding that they allow him to release a lot of the tension and stress he otherwise carries around, and has played a rather staggering amount along with a just as large range, from sport, to action to puzzles, although he tends to prefer the less realistic violent games, finding that there is enough war in the world without spending his private time immersed in it too. Yet for all his love of playing, Steven retains a rather low view on televisions as a medium, thinking the boxes are best used for gaming and little else. Another ‘immature’ pastime of his is love for X-Men comics, and he often proclaims that Jean Grey – her occasional possession and crazy period’s aside – is his view of a perfect woman.
Yet for all this he is in no way immature when it comes to the parts of his life that he considers the most important, nor does he allow his relaxation methods to get in the way of his duties or the role he plays within the pack. Steven embodies most of the traits commonly associated with a Beta or leader, the ability to fight, the desire to protect, to think on his feet and hold the interests of his pack far above his own interests. He is a good tactical thinker, able to take a plan and see flaws and improvements within it. Steven is always there to listen to those who need his help, and of course, he is dedicated to protecting his family.
He is stubborn to a fault, almost too stubborn at times, as he will push himself beyond the limits that subconsciously he knows are there. There are a couple of people within the pack that invariably bring out the more immature side of him, Steven enjoying an almost ‘sibling rivalry’ with these people, and he enjoys trying to irritate or push her buttons although always without any malicious intent and is in fact deeply protective of those he considers that close to him, such as Min-Ho and Dia, and as such they are very close, although his closest relationship is with Cole Stanton, his alpha, brother and best friend.
While immensely loyal to Cole and the pack as a whole he will not shy away from pointing out perceived flaws in any plan or asking for clarification from his Alpha if he feels he must, something which thankfully has rarely happened. The past has taught him the folly of blind loyalty and the mistakes it can lead to – he would however never dream of arguing with Cole in plain view of the pack, as that would be far too disrespectful for Steven’s own liking. He will go to any lengths to protect the pack and his family, stopping just shy of mindlessly endangering their own lives if the bigger picture calls for it. Steven is rather happy in the position he is, supporting, and does not envy the choices Cole has to make on a day to day basis.
The Beta is very sensitive to betrayal or perceived betrayal and can find it hard as result to trust people at times or give them a second chance, even if some part of him knows they deserve such a chance. Past events weigh too heavily on his mind to allow such a thing and he is among the first to want to right a wrong and among the last to forget. He remembers each mistake he has made and while he doesn’t spend too long brooding on them, he does still feel guilty about them, and is secretly a little bit insecure about his place. Steven doesn’t believe that he is about to be replaced or someone is trying to take his position, but he does fret at times that he isn’t doing the best he can to protect and look after the pack, that he isn’t the best and this constantly pushes at him, keeping him trying to improve. Only Cole has any inkling of these doubts, as something Steven is extremely good at is having a poker face and hiding his feelings for the most part.
In stressful times and events, Steven has often been known to start smoking, a trait he picked up in the early 1900’s, and one he has never been fully able to shake off, despite his best attempts and despite the fact that he can go years without succumbing to the desire; not an addiction exactly, but a very strong desire. Smoking is really the only thing that can truly destroy his will power and self control when stressed and he is far more likely to be tetchy and irritable, almost prone to mistakes at such times if he denies himself a smoke.
WEAKNESSES: As with all werewolves, Steven 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. While he is not truly addicted to cigarettes – or indeed, as smoking won’t cause any lasting damage – his repeated forays into smoking are clear indications that he is stressed or uncomfortable, a tell he is incapable of hiding and one which would instantly give away his feelings to anyone who knows him.
No matter how cliché such a claim might be his pack, his family, is a very real weakness, as there is little Steven wouldn’t do in order to protect any of them, especially his fellow Beta and his Alphas, although another that could potentially cause him to loose sight of the bigger picture is if Lilium LaChance was in any danger. He suffers from the occasional nightmare, deep and terrifying dreams where he relives his past, which keep him awake for the rest of the night and generally unsettle him for the next day as well.
ABILITIES: Steven 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. His age means he is able to control his wolf during all three nights of the full moon, can stop himself from changing at will as well as retaining his mind at those times. Aside from English, Steven can speak Irish Gaelic and German with equal fluidity, switching between the three in an instant. In recent weeks he has started to learn Japanese, but finding the time has meant he is still on the most basic of basic levels.
He is a fighter in every respect of the word, from hand to hand combat, to training in blades and guns, both up close and personal and from afar. Without a doubt, his greatest skill when it comes to combat is his abilities as a sniper, Steven being a crack aim with both his rifle and his throwing knives. His years and experience have taught him the necessity of having some degree of medical ability, primary emergency, in the field knowledge, enough to treat wounds and injury, knowledge with has naturally increased over the years. He is a tactical thinker, able to take a situation and turn it to his advantage. In leisure, Steven is a talented card player and an even more talented cheat at such games, able to use slight of the hands, not to mention the ability to deal any cards he wishes, so much so that he often finds himself refusing to play, so as to remove the temptation to cheat.
WEAPONS: Although he is a weapon himself, both in human and wolf guise, Steven has a number of man made weapons, favouring whenever possible the Military marine scout sniper rifle, as his preferred method of fighting is always distant attacks when possible. Its bulk and shape however means that he rarely takes it outside the hotel. Steven has a number of throwing knives in various sizes, of which at least two are constantly about his person. As a last resort, he will also use his P45 pistol.
PRIZED POSSESSIONS: He isn’t ashamed to admit that the pack, his family, is quite possibly the most important thing in his life. His red 1976 Ford Mustang. The ring of his father’s, which now belongs to him, along with his gold medallion which was a gift are the only tangible things Steven retains of his parents and as such, are prized accordingly.
HOME(S): The Hyperion with the rest of Cole’s pack.
HISTORY: Steven Manning was born in Ireland in the year 1324 to Ciaran and Deirdre Manning, wolves in a medium sized pack located in one of the more sparsely populated areas of the county, deep inland. Aside from the pack there were no more than twenty people living within their territory and all were oblivious humans which were just the way they liked it. The Alpha mistrusted humans implicitly, letting none come too close to the pack’s homestead and had only grudgingly allowed any to settle inside the territory at all. If he had his way all would have been eradicated, his attitude coloured by mistreatment at the hands of human’s in the past and his paranoia only increased when a year before Steven was born, his mate gave birth to a boy by the name of Alistair Ceallanchán.
Steven’s father was a fighter in the pack, a loyal right hand to the Alpha while his mother was a normal pack wolf although she had a close, almost sibling relationship with all four of the leaders. The three couples had been friends since childhood and where the Alpha went, Ciaran dutifully followed, never questing the other wolf’s plans, even when they involved hunting humans. Personally, he had nothing against humans and even confided to his mate that he felt the occasional hunts they did were somewhat risky although he kept quiet around anyone else. Loyalty went before everything to Steven’s father, even before the safety of the pack and he tried to engrain in his son just how powerful and important it was to be loyal to those better than you.
The young Steven was something of a dreamer as a child, more interested in quiet pursuits or jokes and harmless fun as opposed to learning how to fight and defend himself, much to his father’s disappointment, who had hoped for a child willing to fight. All Steven wanted, for as long as he could remember was to be the laid back, friendly one. He didn’t harbour any wish to become anything powerful in the pack.
Because of the closeness in their ages and the friendships between their parents, Steven and Alistair were expected to be just as close, pushed together at every opportunity. Even before they had reached the age of their first change however, it was apparent to everyone but their parents that the two would never be friends. They were vastly different in personality and temperament. Where Steven was quieter, more respectful and treated everyone in the pack as equals, Alistair never let anyone around his age forget that he was the son of the Alpha and was a loud, bully of a boy. He had almost a split personality, the bully and the face he showed his parents and the other adults, with most of them thinking that Alistair was the pride of the pack and a wolf all the other youngsters should look up to. Intimidation meant that nobody had the courage to unmask him. He didn’t have friends, he had followers, and while he wanted Steven among them, the young boy refused to go along with it. Even by the age of ten he had seen the scars his father returned home with after a night doing whatever the Alpha had wanted. He had seen his mother cry and fret while Ciaran was gone and Steven refused to bow and scrape to Alistair in the same way unless he could gain and earn that treatment, although he did still deeply respect the Alpha – he just thought all the fighting and killing was wrong.
As they came closer to their first change, Alistair became increasingly competitive with Steven, bragging over the fact that as he was a year older and the son of the Alpha instead of the son of spineless nobodies. It was the slight against his parents that in the end caused him to snap and finally respond the way the other boy had been trying to get him to for the past few years. Despite being a normally peaceful boy, the one who would only engage in the rough and tumble of playing when he had no choice, he went for Alistair with the intent to try and wound him. Steven was barely into his teens and had little to no fighting training compared to Alistair who had been trained by his father and was built with more bulk compared to the skinner Steven.
It was not a fair fight and ended as well for Steven as could be expected – humiliated and beaten. He knew he had only himself to blame however and so didn’t complain or cry about it, hiding the actual extent of his bruising and pretending to his parents that it had been nothing more than the normal kind of scrape.
Emboldened by his victory against Steven, the other boy took to using him as a punching bag, firmly escalating from verbal taunts to daily fights. There was no escape for him, nowhere he could hide and nobody he could confide in. At the age of fourteen, Steven was already trapped in a repetitive circle, still waiting for his wolf to appear, as was Alistair. It finally came just after his birthday. The change was painful enough for any wolf experiencing it for the first time, but far worse for Steven was the fact that the bruises inflicted on him by Alistair only a day ago had not completely healed, adding to his pain. He lost consciousness part way through the transformation as his bones broke and reshaped to the wolf.
The appearance of his wolf gave Steven new found confidence. He never failed to remind Alistair that his wolf had come forward first when he was attacked, throwing it back in his face that here was something that he done before him. Steven also began to train with Ciaran in earnest, throwing himself into the sparring as never before. His father was delighted in what he saw as finally Steven showing interest in fighting and possibly becoming a fighter for the pack. It was Ciaran dearest wish that his son follow in his footsteps, constantly pressing him into reaching for that goal. Steven himself was simply learning to fight because he was determined to face the bully once and for all and to beat him at his own game and soon enough their came the day that when Alistair attacked him, he could defend himself enough to actually prevent any harm and actually landing a few bruise causing hits of his own.
Alistair left him alone after that, if not respecting Steven, then at least accepting that he was no longer the easy target he had once been. They both had other things to worry about besides each other now, for once the other boy had also achieved his first change they were treated in a different manner. The transformation signified the change between child and adult and Steven was now expected to have all manner of adult responsibilities, leaving little time for any childhood pursuits. It was something of a rough wake up call for Steven – despite his problems with bullies, he had still had a relatively happy childhood, free of anything taxing. For Alistair however it was even worse, the pampered boy suddenly expected to act grown up.
Steven’s earlier interest in fighting came back to haunt him, Ciaran putting him forward to train to be a fighter. Despite spending his first ten or so years wanting nothing more than to be a simple pack member it was ignored in favour of those weeks spent trying to beat Alistair. The training wasn’t like that which he had gone through with his father. Then, it had been just the two of them, Ciaran spending as much time as he could but having other duties to the pack. Then, he had gone easy on Steven, patiently going through the basics as often as was needed.
Official training to become a fighter for the group resembled hell to the now sixteen year old Steven. All in-training lived together and worked together, getting up early in the morning, training hard and then going to bed late at night. Extremely rigid and predictable, Steven grew to hate certain hours of the day more than others. By far the worst part was the time devoted to eating. Believing that hungry wolves fought harder, the Alpha had instructed that they be given just enough food to get by with the incentive of extra food as rewards for doing well. It changed them all, some more than others as Steven finally discovered his own talents in fighting and where to horn his skills. To Alistair it simply made him worse, more determined to protect his own skin and excel, in order to live well.
However he grew to love what he had become, finding simplicity and understanding in fighting that had been missing in the rest of his life. Most of this stemmed from the wolf assigned to teach them how to attack from a long distance. In him, Steven found a kindred spirit, learning that to fight was not all about brute strength and who was the strongest. Cunning and awareness was just as important as the speed and power of your punch. He took to this kind of fighting, preferring to take out his opponents from a distance or if up close and personal, to use their own power against them.
Steven and Alistair continued to clash at every opportunity, the two simply unable or unwilling to get along, even when ordered to by their alpha. He was ashamed of his son for acting in such a manner, against the combined good of the pack and ashamed that his son was wasting time with a petty rivalry, when there was always the threat of humans to deal with. Ciaran on his part was deeply humiliated by Steven, begging him to apologise to Alistair, to say and so whatever he had to in order to keep the peace within the pack and to act with due reverence towards Alistair. He didn’t seem able to understand his son’s position, the years of humiliation that had made any kind of friendship with the alpha’s child now impossible, no matter how much he wanted to please his dad. As far as Steven was concerned, the only way for any kind of peace was to keep both of them away from each other.
The tense meetings with Alistair aside which threatened to pull him right back into childhood, Steven continued improving as a fighter and his skills in both long range fighting and as a tactical thinker soon caught the attention of many senior fighters. They had known from the start that any son of Ciaran would be worth watching and Steven proved them right. As the years passed, they quietly expressed the worry over the rivalry that just wasn’t going away between the two young males, both of whom were rapidly becoming the top fighters in training, each approaching battles from a radically different view point but each getting the job done. The more astute among the fighters could sense real trouble between the two, especially if they were forced openly against each other but they were among the minority, with the rest content to try and keep them apart and hope that as they matured, the behaviour would simply just die out.
Decades passed, Steven keeping himself focused as much as he could on his training, heeding the warning of the wolf assigned for his personal work that if he allowed himself to focus on Alistair for too long and let his resentment of the other male spill out into his fighting then it would suffer for it. As much as he wanted to use it to fuel his energy and fire, Steven knew that in the long run it wouldn’t just be his fighting ability that would pay for his blinded hatred, but the pack as well, something he couldn’t handle. And hatred it had become, the anger and dislike spilling out and becoming unstoppable. More than once, Alistair had made sure Steven had gotten into trouble or looked back in front of the other fighters in training, no doubt jealous of his rival and as much as Steven tried to keep the moral high ground, there were occasions when he lashed out as well. He wasn’t perfect but thanks to the continuing efforts of both his parents and his mentor, he was able to keep tighter control on his impulses compared to Alistair.
By the time he reached his hundredth year, Steven was leaps and bounds ahead of the other in training wolves, even ahead of his main rival in certain respects, although it wasn’t something that was ever admitted in words. His first century marked an important millstone in more ways than one, for not only was it the point where Deirdre finally accepted that her little boy had grown up and become a man, but it was also the first chance he had at becoming a true fighter, with a spot opening up for one trainee to make the jump. Unfortunately for him, Alistair took the test at the same time, along with a few other wolves.
It was far harder than he had expected, Steven having to work against his own mentor who knew everything Steven knew and more. The experience, more than anything, forced him to truly think outside the box, to put everything he had learnt and twist it, so that he was able to overcome the test and win. He was not the only wolf that had passed however, Alistair had also defeated his personal trainer and although Steven privately believed that the elder wolf had left him win, too afraid to face the anger of the alpha, he kept quiet, knowing that there was no proof aside from the perhaps arrogant belief that he knew he was better. Two passing the test posed something of a problem in the pack; the usual remedy if there wasn’t enough space was to have the winners battle each other and while some supported that, more feared that such a fight, allowing all those pent up feelings would cause an irreversible split within the pack. In the end, both were awarded the title of fighter, and only the knowledge that he had been denied the chance to finally prove himself against his tormenter put a dampener on Steven’s day, his parents giving him a medallion necklace to remember the achievement by.
Both were drafted into the same group, in order to patrol and work together, making Steven question once again, what his Alpha was thinking. Even Ciaran knew by now not to try and put them together unless there was no other choice but Alistair’s father was still trying, determined to force them to like each other. The new fighter tried his best to ignore it and focus instead on the excitement of going out on real missions and finally, truly protecting his pack, excitement that only grew when he realised that the third member of his team was none other than his father.
It was a great honour for Ciaran, to be the ‘senior’ fighter in his small group when the group consisted of the son of his alpha. He knew that it was his unspoken responsibility to be particularly protective of Alistair, even over his own son, and although every natural instinct was to protect his own flesh and blood, he devoted the needed amount of time to shadowing Alistair, giving him tips and all but ignoring Steven when they were out in the field. It hurt, to have his father behave like that, even though part of him understood the reasons behind it, if not why Ciaran chose to actually obey, and he took the time to practise once again his long distance tracking skills. The patrols were increasing nightly as the paranoia increased in the mind of their Alpha. Convinced that humans were going to become a danger to his pack, he became more and more on edge, and had to be talked down more than once from launching a pre-emptive strike on the humans living nearest the pack home.
Ironically, he had been right all along not to trust the humans. The village that had grown up near them had long heard the stories of the strange beasts that lurked in the woods, of the dreaded werewolves, mothers using them as the boogiemen to make their children behave, fathers crossing themselves if they ever saw a member of the pack in human form. For generations they were fed the mixture of confusion and hatred towards the pack which for the most part had lived quietly enough, even on occasion going to the aid of the humans if they needed it. things would probably have remained in the same limbo state, had the local gentry of the area not died when he did, the elderly man passing away roughly the same time Steven became a fully fledged fighter.
His son, the new 'lord of the manor' was a brash, bold and hot-headed young man who was determined to rid what he considered his land free of any dangers. Dangers which included the group of strange men and women. He didn't believe the stories of magic and transformation, seeing them as a family which had prayed on the superstitions of his people, who had used the fear against them. For months he quietly trained up the strongest men in the village, creating his own personal band of fighting men and one night, while out on the training mission, they encountered the small fighting group headed by Ciaran, the two parties meeting on an open field, forest one side, and a cliff down to a river the other. At first, the elder wolf was content to leave them be, passing them silently by with little more than a respectful nod in their direction. For the young lord, the lack of any attack or aggressive behaviour only served to prove to himself that these were not the monsters of folklore and with a loud cry he galvanised his men into action.
There was no choice but to fight, and at first the werewolves did their best to land disarming blows only, to refrain from killing any, knowing as they did that if actual blood was shed then the whole thing would escalate to impossible levels. It didn't take long however for Alistair's patience to snap, the young werewolf furious that his father was behind humiliated in such a way, that mere humans had dared raise up against them and so he lashed out, killing the man closest to him with his bare hands.
What happened next remained a blur to Steven, even long after the event.
Out of nowhere it seemed, more and more humans poured into the area, one of the original group having managed to make it back to the village and bring reinforcements. Bit by bit, Steven found himself separated from the other two, fighting desperately now just to stay alive, as the heavens opened and it began to pour, the heavy rain only making visibility worse and turning the land into a mud bath. Thunder and lightening came with the rain, Steven catching flashes of his father within those moments, trying time and time again to reach him. almost in slow motion he saw the largest group of men surrounded Ciaran, he saw Alistair freeze, hesitate and then back away from the group rather than throw himself once more into the fray as any true fighter should.
He saw his father’s grip slip against the mud, the elder wolf balanced precariously on the edge of the cliff, rocks and shards crumbling away from the rock face. And then his father was gone, a large part of the cliff falling down into the river below, rocks crashing into water. Things appeared to slow down as Steven fought, rain mixing with the tears on his face, the humans suddenly melting away as the reality of what they had done sunk in, and the remaining two wolves let them go.
Somehow, Steven managed to half fall; half climb down the side of the cliff, heart hamming in his mouth as he crossed the distance to where his father lay, partly buried under the rocks, the crumpled body resting against the side of the water, fingers trailing into the river. Before he reached his father, he knew what he was going to find, but some part of Steven hoped that he was wrong, that his father was just playing a joke and any moment he was going to sit up. Nothing happened and as he dropped down next to him, shaking fingers touching the side of his neck, Steven knew why. His father was dead, either the fall, the landing or the rocks scattered around and on him killing him and his son could only hope that it had been quick.
There had just been too many humans, the odds overwhelming for a lone werewolf and Steven couldn’t shake the feelings of guilt and shame, even though he had been unable to reach his father because of his own battle. Alistair on the other hand, Alistair had been closer, had been free of any humans and in his grief stricken state, there was no doubt in his mind as to who was to blame for the death. Almost screaming, he launched himself at the other male, his training and abilities pushed out of his mind by the sheer desire to get revenge, to make Alistair pay for running away instead of doing his duty. Without thinking, Steven promised that he would tell everyone, that the whole pack would know exactly what had happened.
Alistair knew his life would be all but over if the truth came out, and Steven no longer seemed to care about the good of the pack over his own feelings. He couldn't be trusted to keep quiet and Alistair couldn't afford to let anyone know his own failing. In a blind panic, he lashed out, almost forgetting that he still held his dagger in his hand. The blow landed squarely above Steven's heart, metal digging deep. Realising that he had accidentally stepped beyond the point of no return, Alistair pulled his weapon back, panting heavily. Steven stared at him shock; mind slowing at the realisation he had been stabbed. By his own pack mate, by another fighter. It had been a low blow but it wasn't over yet, as Alistair lashed out again, pushing and knocking him down, into the river. Confident that the water would do the rest of the work, he watched as it dragged Steven downstream. Only when he was out of sight did Alistair move, returning to the pack to tell them all that both Manning males had been murdered by the humans.
For hours Steven floated down river, unconscious from the cold and lack of blood before eventually washing up against the bank, caught in the roots of a tree and somehow, miraculously, alive. Sheer will forced him to drag himself up out of the river before finally collapsing once more and drifting in and out of consciousness. Steven didn’t know how long he remained in that state, weak, delirious, behaving more like an animal than anything else. It was a miracle the stab wound hadn’t been fatal, blade missing his heart by mere inches and while causing a lot of blood loss, was healable.
Pride kept Steven from returning to the pack at once, pride and the determination to seek revenge for his father. In his weakened state he knew he was no match for Alistair and the other wolf had already proven that he wasn’t above cheating to keep himself safe. So he kept away, focusing on recovering his strength and stamina, only setting out to the pack home when the wound had healed, leaving nothing more than a scar. In his absence however, events had moved quickly, the humans and the pack engaging in an all out war as the Alpha was finally vindicated in his paranoia of them.
Determined in his own way to avenge the death of his friend he struck down the humans without mercy or pity, destroying the land around them as he went so that after only a short time the area was not only devoid of human life, with those few that could escaping, but devoid of any sustainable life at all. The choice was made to move on and find another, more isolated home and it was to an empty house that Steven returned, finding that they had left. With his trademark stubbornness, Steven set out to track them down, for his father and his mother’s sake.
In the end it took Steven nearly two whole years to catch up with his pack, the group having hopped from one area to another, unable to find a place that could satisfy the by now full blown paranoia of their leader. It was his mother who sensed him first, the dark haired woman having seemed to have aged hugely since the time he had last seen her, worn down by the stress and the sight of her only served to infuriate Steven further. Without waiting, he challenged Alistair right there and then, demanding that they settle their differences and that he prove to the rest of the pack what their precious fighter had done to his father – and to himself.
Although both Deidre and the Alpha’s didn’t want either of their son’s to fight – with the former still trying to come to terms with the fact she hadn’t actually lost her son, but that in the next few moments she might – with the challenge laid down in public, the laws of the pack ensured that there was nothing they could do but watch.
The whole pack gathered silently about, creating the edge of a large area like space for the two to fight in, each armed to the teeth and each prepared to give it their all. It was a brutal fight, first Alistair and then Steven gaining the upper hand. The two struggled back and forth, at one point even transforming, although as time worn on both were simply too tired to hold their wolf forms, reverting back to humans. In the end, after literally hours of fighting, Steven gained the upper hand for the final time, landing a crushing but not fatal blow.
He stood over Alistair, triumphant after all this time, his claim ‘proven’ by his victory, and the life of the defeated fighter to do with as he wished. Weapon held high, Steven appeared to tremble for a moment, blade shaking a little as though fighting some invisible war with himself. For the first time since waking up by the river and swearing revenge, Steven wasn’t sure about his course of action; he had beaten him, had taken his revenge, did he really need to kill him? The last image he had of his father came into his mind as he stood there and his gaze hardened, blade swinging down, Steven ignoring the voice in his head that knew his father would never have approved of more death.
At the last possible second his mother intervened, hand catching at his arm and begging him to stop, to spare Alistair’s life. As much as he hated the fighter at his feet, Steven couldn’t go through with the blow, not after his mother’s words and he stepped back, weapon dropping harmlessly to the floor.
Steven ignored Alistair as the defeated male climbed to his feet, having dismissed him as a threat but once again he had underestimated his long time rival in the lengths he would go to in order to win, to be victorious over Steven. Alistair couldn’t let the matter end there, knowing that he would be shunned and possibly even exiled from the pack. Without warning he lunged forward one last time, dagger suddenly in his hand, blow aimed once again for Steven’s heart. At the exact moment he moved, so did Deirdre, the woman unwittingly stepping in the way of the blow as she reached out for her son.
He could do nothing but watch as she staggered into his arms, blade buried deep into the back of her neck, crushing the spinal column, his mother dead before anyone could react.
For a moment the whole scene appeared frozen, both young males shocked by what had just taken place, Steven numb before a more proactive feeling took over, one of rage. It built up in mere moments, until he was almost blinded by it and he tried to lash out once more, thinking and strategy put aside, overridden by the sheer need to <i>rip</i> Alistair apart, with his bare hands if he had to. Yet again he was stopped, pulled back by the Alpha male, the wolf claiming that there had been enough death today and that killing his son wouldn’t change anything. All Steven could do was listen in disbelief, the knowledge slowly filtering through his brain that he wasn’t going to be able to avenge his mother, that he was expected to just move on and blindly obey just as his parents had done.
Obeying had ended with them dead and Steven had no intention of that happening to him. As much as it hurt to make the choice, he knew he had to leave the pack. He just couldn’t stay, not with people who had just stood by and watched his mother be murdered and then just watched as their alpha, their <i>leader</i> had put his own personal feelings first in order to protect his child over pack justice.
At the first possible chance, he fled the pack, not thinking about where he was going only that it needed to be away from here. For weeks he blindly wandered around the British Isles but everywhere he went he saw examples of either humans who reminded him too much of those who had killed his father or examples of people betraying trust. Steven couldn’t take it and made the life changing decision to cross the channel, where at least people sounded different.
For years he remained a solitary wolf, but living alone didn’t suit him, not now he was missing any aim in life and so, a few years after he turned 120, when the chance came to join a new pack, he took it, that of a pack which had started in England but were currently in France. The pack seemed different than his home one, different in the way he wanted, with strong leaders who looked out for them all. He made friends quickly with the other young wolves, forming an especially strong bond with another male by the name of Cole Stanton. Like Steven, Cole had a life long rival of his own, but thankfully they had never come to such serious blows. He sided with his friend every time there was any incident between the two and he watched with happiness – and possibly a little envy that such a thing had yet to happen to him – as Cole and another friend of his, Dia Mantenega grew closer and closer, Steven easily seeing the outcome.
It didn’t take him long to be considered a ‘trainee’ fighter once more, ready and experienced to move up whenever the time came, the years passing comfortably enough, Steven truly happy once more with his new family and friends. When the transaction finally happened, it was all too painfully familiar to Steven; a group had been sent out to protect the pack, among them their Betas, Cole’s parents and they waited and waited, with a growing sense that something was wrong. When the fighters finally returned, it was with the news that they had protected their territory but at the cost of a number of fighters, including both of Cole’s parents.
The dearth of fighters ensured that many in training would move up, including Steven and the close friends he had made, while at the same time to his private relief, the male that had caused Cole so much grief as a rival left the pack. It was a time of great change, and when Cole made the choice to follow in his father’s footsteps to replace him as beta, Steven supported him full heartedly although there was little he could do aside from watch as the fight took place between the two competing males. In the end, it was his friend who emerged victorious, as did Dia when she too claimed the female position, the pair becoming mates shortly afterwards.
With his two best friends where Steven knew they belonged, and he as the fighter he had trained to become, it should have been a happy time and for a while, it was. But as time passed he couldn’t help but see the shades of the past in some of the events that were taking place now. The Alpha, a strong male called Gareth began to act in a manner very similar to that of his pervious leader, distrusting all those around him, taking what Steven sometimes considered unnecessary risks in order to keep the territory ‘safe’, even if it meant launching an ill planned attack, such as the one which had cost the lives of the pervious Betas, and the Irish male couldn’t help but worry that such a fate might befall his friends. He tried to tell himself that he was just being paranoid, or that his past was making him see things that weren’t actually there, that not every Alpha was of the same mould as his first one. It was disrespectful and worse, traitorous to think such things, and so Steven kept the small niggling feelings to himself, hoping that it would pass in time. It didn’t.
By the time Cole had confided in him about similar worries, Steven had become completely disillusioned with Gareth’s leadership, unable to escape the strong feelings of déjà vu and the private conviction that the choices either leader made would eventually lead to someone he cared about becoming hurt or worse killed. It was primarily his loyalty to Cole which kept him from breaking away from the pack, Steven doing all he could to support his friend as gradually the clashes between the two most senior males in the pack became more and more obvious. The pack was suffering as a result of the disagreements and although Steven knew his father would have tried to make Cole back down, would have believed that loyalty to the Alpha went above everything no matter what, he wasn’t his father.
And for the first time Steven fully came to accept that while he blamed Alistair for the death of both his parents, it had been partly his father’s fault as well. His father had been wrong to become so blinded and it had cost him.
There was little he could do however aside from support Cole and hope that something would happen, trusting in his friend to keep them all safe even if he couldn’t truly trust in his Alpha anymore. This state of affair’s carried on for some time, the pack becoming more fractured as a result, and after a savage fight with enemies that cost them the life of another fighter, not to mention various injuries throughout the pack, Steven saw Cole ‘snap’.
Another ill thought out plan, decision, and his friend had finally had enough, standing up to Gareth and refusing to obey the order, clearly challenging the unstable Alpha. The fight which followed was as inevitable as it was brutal, both males determined to prove they were in the ‘right’ and to protect what they considered the most important things; Gareth his position and Cole his family. In the end, it was Cole who emerged victorious, defeating the Alpha although sparing his life. The elder male and his mate left soon afterwards, with Cole rising up to take his place, Steven supporting it the whole way.
He was somewhat surprised however, when the question of who would take the vacant Beta position came up, it was to himself that Cole turned. Steven wasn’t sure he felt ready to take on such a role within the pack, but he was determined to do his best to prove himself worthy of the trust. Although there was another male interested in the position, the other fighter backed down before a full challenge could be made and Steven was able to assume the role without a fight.
They carried on the tradition of moving the pack from one territory to another after a certain amount of years, to try and keep the pack safe, acquiring new members all the while and sadly loosing a few through various situations. All the while, Steven strove to do the pack proud, with all four leaders providing a unified, family face, looking out for the well being of the wolves under their care first and foremost.
Eventually, the pack left Europe, making the trek over to America in a bid to make a fresh start and to put everything that had happened not only to them individually but as a whole, to get away from all the unpleasantness that pack mates and fighters had suffered. Soon after that, they settled into Los Angeles and took over half of the city, slotting into place and buying a large abandoned hotel which they were able to turn into their home.
They carried on acquiring members, one of which was a young girl by the name of Lilium LeChance who had been turned the very night Steven met her; indeed he and the group of fighters actually interrupted as the wolf attacked, the fighters taking out the rouge wolf and eventually having to kill him simply to protect themselves and territory at large. All the while, Steven focused on keeping the young girl calm and helping her, along with the other leaders, into becoming a part of their family.
And it is family that Steven considers the pack, along with the Alphas and the other Beta, constantly doing his best whenever he can. He is the happiest he can ever remember being, and even the idea that his parent’s killer might still be alive can be ignored, in the face of looking after his new family, watching over it and helping it grow.