Post by Deleted on Jan 11, 2018 3:15:15 GMT -7
hello there, my name is Hannibal Greyback but you can call me Hannibal, unless you'd like to die. i'm an Adultand 38 so that makes me a graduate at Durmstrang. You could say I'm ambitious, cunning, & resourceful but I personally think that I am ruthless, steadfast, & prepared. People say I look a lot like Jason Momoa, but I don't really see it...
Hannibal Felix Ivan Greyback
pronunciation:
HAN-NIH-BALL GREY-BACK
nickname:
None; to his face, wildman, Manimal
age:
38
date of birth:
27, December, & 1984
gender & pronouns:
He, Him
blood status:
Werewolf
sexuality:
Bisexual
schooling:
Durmstrang.occupation:
Bounty Hunter, Vodka distillery, making new pups.
wand:
13¾" long, blackthorn, dragon heartstring.
playby:
Jason Momoa
appearance:
Hannibal stands at a hunkering 6'8. The monolith of a man is covered almost exclusively in hair, be it facial or head. He almost always appears dirty, but if you ran your hands through his hair it would feel like the silky fur of a wolf. Like his father his appearance has become eerily like that of the beast he is. His face is almost always disheveled and covered in a thick mask of furry beard and mustache. Don't be fooled, it doesn't hinder his bite one bit. His mothers eyes peer out of heavily lidded sockets, black as the soul they reside. His left eyebrow has a distinct scar tracing through it, and though hes often covered his body is littered in battle scars as well. His face, though pleasant, has an otherworldly warning to it; permanently marked with his signature scowl.
Hannibal adorns himself in an odd mixture of leather coats and trousers, heavy boots, and furs/skins. He is riddled with many different tattoos, to which each has its own tale. Body wise he is no small thing. Already standing at 6'8 he would be formidable. You add on years of hard labor and actively training oneself and his muscular stature is impressive. To his enemies, he is down right terrifying. To his allies he's.... still pretty terrifying. Something he prides himself in, and it shows in the cocky sneer he wears exclusively into battle.
Though a bit impracticable in the wizarding world Hannibal is almost always carrying a few blades on him. His nails are grown out and sharpened into claws, his teeth filed for a more efficient, and devastating, bite.
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personality
likes:
- Children; tasty.
- Fighting.
- Drinking.
- Biting.
- Bubblebaths. "Tell anyone and I'll eat your firstborn"
dislikes:
- Muggles
- Happy Families
- Fleas
- Clumsy Men
- The smell of gasoline.
erised:
Much like his father his only goal in life is to spread Lycanthropy and his line.
amortentia:
- First winters snow.
- The smell of fresh blood.
- Prey-like women/some men.
- The chirp of crickets.
- Innocence.
- Fear.
boggart:
Wolfsbane, tastes awful. Azkaban; Dementors kiss. Living Death potion.
overall personality:
Hannibal Felix Ivan Greyback is many things, nice is not one of them. Hannibal is much like the icy plains of Russia, cold; endless. His heart grew empty and frozen ages ago. His humor is dry and bleak, often at the expense of someone else. All in all, Hannibal is not a man you enjoy spending time with. He is brash, and outspoken, never bothering to think before speaking. A trait he gained from his father, surely. The man has no filter, not a sense of right or wrong. His manners are those of a brute, demanding what he wants when he wants it and expecting it to manifest.
That is not to say he is above working for his desires, or is lazy. On the contrary he is a hard worker when motivated properly. Perhaps not the smartest of men he has never been called an idiot either. Whether that be because most people would like to live or not is yet to be discovered. This bear of a man, though cold as the land he hails, wages war within himself daily. Rage, unbridled and unhinged, cultivated in youth to weaponize. His temper is always beneath the surface of his eyes, hunting a victim to strike.
Muggles; if there's anything Hannibal loves playing with more it's Muggles. He enjoys taking their children especially, however a favorite pastime is introducing an adult muggle to werewolves. And then leaving them to the mercy of their mugglekind. Aurors usually catch up to them before they do a whole lot of damage, but it's always incredibly satisfying to ruin their day.
Authority in general Hannibal does not respond well to. Orders grate on his bones like knives on plates. He is wild at heart, and refuses to be tamed. It is probably the only thing he disliked about his father. Hannibal is hungry for power, but too proud to be a 'lapdog'. Again, he may not be the smartest in the bunch, but he's got a decent mind between those brows.
I would love to give you softness to this edge, a glimmer of hope to grasp, but hope died in Hannibal years ago. All that is left is a hunger for blood and flesh. He would not know kindness if it kissed him on the forehead.
So, in short, Hannibal is a total -expletive-.
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personal history
mother:
Ivana Karkaroff, D, "working girl"
father:
Fenrir Greyback
siblings:
The list is positively endless.
pets:
Steller's Sea Eagle; Cheva
history:
Hannibal was born out of the perverse joining of Fenrir and a working girl in the back alley of Knockturn. Fenrir was still young, still rising, he visited often. So when she became with child Fenrir saw only his new purpose; to spread. This babe could be his first of many weaponized children. An army.
Nine Months Later, little Hannibal was born.
With the birth of a child Ivana could no longer partake in her line of work, at least not for the time being, so without telling Fenrir her plans she made for Russia where she hoped to find familial help. She feared the man, with good reason. He'd been a regular, but she had scars from their times together both mentally and physically. She couldn't allow this little angel to fall into those claws. How wrong she would become.
A few years would roll by with no word from Fenrir. Ivana was convinced he'd simply moved on to the next possible child. Hannibal was 4 now, and already he was massive. The child was growing fast and would soon rival her father in height. If Hannibal could remember those four years of his life, perhaps there would still be peace within him. He truly has little memory of them. He remembers Cheva, his Eagle. His mother saved Cheva as a youngling, abandoned from the nest. They became inseparable. That was the last good memory he had of home.
The rest is blood, so much blood.
His father had found them. He could remember his mother begging, her cries for him to run. He grabbed Cheva, little featherless Cheva, and wrapped her in blankets. But it was his compassion for the bird that cost him his life. His back turned; trying to leap from the window to a neighboring ledge, barefoot, he slipped. But it was the claw of Fenrir Greyback that caught him before he tumbled to his death. A good and noble death.
His father pulled him by the scruff of his neck, just like a true wolf pup. The claws digging into his flesh; scaring him there for life. However, it was the bite that came after that crushed him. His father grinned, those wicked teeth glinting with his mothers spilled blood, and then he tore into Hannibals chest; marking him as one flesh.
Childhood from there begins to blur. Much of his youth was spent watching Fenrir from afar. No one could know they were of the same flesh. Turned, absolutely, but they could not know it was his son. Otherwise he would be a target. A flattering thought, from Fenrir. He would teach him techniques in the shadows, beat him when he wasn't looking to toughen him. Torture, basically... Until Hannibal became too old, and Fenrir too busy.
His father hid him away, sending him to Durmstrang rather than Hogwarts where he could learn his magical ways while still wreaking havoc. While they were never truly close, Hannibal grew to admire his fathers strength. His ruthless endeavor for werewolves. They thought to kill his kind... The Greybacks would have something to say against that.
He would see, or hear, little of his father save for news paper clippings. Hannibal was expressly proud when he received word he'd head the Snatchers. Owl after owl he begged his father to allow him to accompany them, even in his young age, the blood lust had set in. His father had been quick to cultivate the hunger for the hunt. Still, he was denied.
And Voldemort fell.
Shock did not adequately describe the downfall of the Dark Lord to young Hannibal Greyback. He saw his father as infallible. The man seemed to be invincible, both in human and wolf form. He looked up to him, and feared him greatly. But Fenrir didn't come for him. Nor did the news mention his arrest, or death. He searched for years for dear ol' dad without so much as a peep. Those years of hiding him from the world had worked too well.
Hannibal has lived most of his life in the frozen wastes of Russia, since leaving Durmstrang. Turning those he comes across, moving between villages and towns causing mayhem for fun. Occasionally he'll come from the snow to take an oddjob for those that pay the right amount. It was upon entering civilization again for one of these odd jobs that he noticed the headlines. Another Minister of Magic dead.
Hannibal didn't keep up with the times, but that seemed eerie. And fun. Something, he definitely wanted to be apart of.
With the destruction of Kings Cross, which he was sorely disappointed to have missed, and the rise of a teenage dark lord who promptly disappeared... Hannibal was more than already entertained in the UKs drama. They, those attacking the Ministry and it's pets, called themselves the Purifiers; he'd read on more than one occasion. To him the name sounded silly, but it did sound like something his Father might follow. If Fenrir was anything his old man was an opportunist. Another cleanse of blood seems the perfect doorway for a new wave of werewolves.
But this time, they would be his; not Fenrirs.
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alias
name:
Hannii.
age:
26
time zone:
Pacific
reference:
Google.
other characters:
No one just yet.
