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Wolfgan Wolf von Krieger

"It's best for you to remember one thing about me, I'm better than you...so do you want to roll in the hay?"

0 · 221 views · located in More Phenomenal Earth

a character in “Good Evening, Monsters! Good Evening, Abe!”, as played by RolePlayGateway

Description

Race: Werewolf

Full name: Wolfgang "Wolf" von Krieger
“I know, perfect nickname right? I thought of that one myself.”

Age: 28, “They have these things called records you know? You could always do some research if you’re so curious instead of wasting my time.”


Image



LOOKS
Height and Weight: 6’2” & 180 lbs.
“You must be either very stupid, or very lazy just to not guess for yourself.”
Complexion: Pale white
“What do you think?”
Body Type/Health: Lean, toned, fit. “What? Do you think a werewolf would not be in shape?”

Facial features: “Don’t stare too long or you might become blind due to my over-powering beauty.”

Distinguishing marks: Besides the gorgeous looks? Not much. What more do you need?

Apparent Temperament: “What say you and me go to the bathroom? Broom closet? I don't really care right here is fine by me.”

Hair and eyes: Bright blue eyes with dirty-blonde hair.

Casual wardrobe: Business casual. That is he normally wears slacks, shoes (yes like REAL shoes and not sneakers or tennis), and a button-up shirt. You probably won’t find him wearing a tie though, usually he wears and tank top and leaves the first few buttons undone.

ACTION TIME wardrobe: Usually on the closer side to nothing. Clothing seems to rip and tear whenever he needs to stretch in ways they just don’t want to, so it’s best to wear as little as possible. Due to his need to transform frequently it seems he is usually forced to wear some form of stretchy shorts (like the Hulk, yes) so when he transforms and shifts back to human form he’s not stark naked.

PERSONALITY
How about we start it off like this? Wolfgang is a pacifist, vegan, and intelligent. Sounds perfect right? Well you’d be wrong if you thought so. Just to let you know it won’t be the first or last time you’ll be wrong when you start making assumptions about a German. So, let’s get to a few of Wolfgang’s shortcomings before we begin to elaborate here. First, he’s arrogant. Why? Well, because he’s a powerful, intelligent, and damn-fine looking man. Next, he doesn’t get along with men or groups, especially groups of men, since he was turned into a werewolf. Third, he’s a shameless sex-addict who doesn’t have too many scruples, though he does tend to stick to the upwards of 16 years of age and only resorts to VERY feminine men if absolutely necessary, but these are just extreme circumstances.

“I like chaos and mayhem, not violence. Why must you think a werewolf should enjoy fighting and violence just because it is what it is, I am still part human you know.”

You’re probably asking yourself how a pacifist can justifiably work for a, more or less, “hit squad?” Well Wolfgang doesn’t really find it very difficult to justify his actions. From his general observations he has deduced, and rightly so, that their jobs that involve killing, maiming, or any general violence caused on his part are because someone else wants it to be done and they just happening to be hiring him. His metaphysical point of view says that when a person performs a job for another that the intended goal is the goal of the person hiring the person performing said job, thusly the blame for the end results cannot be laid to rest on the performer because it is not their desire to inflict the harm, only a necessity forced by contractual agreement. It makes sense it a convoluted kind of way.

“So you want to know how a werewolf can be a vegan and still look this good and maintain their strength? Protein doesn’t just come from meat you know. Maybe you should try doing some research before asking me such a worthless question.”

You’re probably asking yourself, “How and WHY is a werewolf who likes to stay in shape a vegan? Well, if you haven’t noticed by now, this guy tends to be a bit more on the “holier than thou” side of this, just without the “holy” aspect. Just think about it. He’s supposed to be the epitome of mayhem and flesh-rending, but he doesn’t enjoy participating in either of those activities, well mayhem as in, “I’m gonna rip your throat out,” mayhem that is. Imagine the self-control someone with a were-complex would need to abstain from such things, I mean they are part animal after all. This is where the “holier than thou” part comes in to play. Because he is both a vegan and a pacifist, despite being a werewolf, Wolfgang can totally brag about how good he really is when you stop to think about it, and trust me when I say he will remind you of these things.

Now I know you want to hear about all the juicy stuff right? Such as him being a sex-addict and all that? It’s really not that hard to explain if you think about it. Wolfgang had a healthy appetite before becoming a werewolf; mind you he wasn’t prone to flirt with anything walking on two legs or masturbate on the drop of a dime if the need arose, but he did pretty well for himself. Let’s look at this logically, Wolfgang was turned into a werewolf and we should be able to deduce that his personality and mannerisms would change according to some very simple rules. First, he has become much more animalistic in his urges, which means that the bar lowered considerably. Second, with as much strength as he had you can only imagine his testosterone levels have shot through the roof, and no man can handle that much testosterone without a bit of relief, and rather frequently I might add.

Alright, let’s go back to the normal stuff now. We went over the arrogance right? Does this need further clarification? Okay then, just hold on for a second. How about starting off with the basics, first off he’s German. Sure, that sounds kind of stereotypical, but hey this guy is intelligent and he’s pretty well-read when it comes to history. They are the people who have invented, well practically everything in the history of Western Civilization since the printing press, and they also happen to be the guys coming out of nowhere to lay the smack down on other civilizations for long periods of times, you know like when the Saxons conquered England, Goths and Visigoths pounded away at Attila, those same guys sacked Rome (Twice mind you), then there was World War 1, THEN they came back after THAT and waged World War 2.

For all intents and purposes let’s divide that last paragraph due to the beauty factor. We mentioned intelligent right? Yeah, this guy graduated from Cambridge with honors, so let’s couple his brains with his dashing good looks and already inflated ego just from being German. He knew you couldn’t compete with him BEFORE he became a werewolf, and now he’s super strong to boot. He wasn’t as bad off as he is now, but he still had a tendency to look down on others.


Speech: Wolfgang has a touch of a Germanic accent, which means that he sounds like he’s condescendingly declaring war upon your meager intelligence with a simple, “Hello.”

Pet Peeves:
-Wolfgang cannot stand seeing things put “correctly in their proper place” so you’ll be able to observe him shuffling some things about and tossing others around
-He has to flirt with women, it doesn’t matter who they are or if they’ve turned him down before, there’s just no question that he must do it. He might explode if he doesn’t.
-This werewolf doesn’t really like people showing up at his apartment, or bringing them there, or them just wandering by for whatever the circumstance may be.

EQUIPMENT
-Pager
-Cell phone
-Toothpicks
-Pheromone Inhibitor (Yes this is necessary sometimes)

LIFE
Favorite color: Pink, definitely pink, but not for the reason you’re thinking.

Hobbies:
-Running
-Putting orderly objects into disarray
-Reading
-Exercise
-Solving complex mathematical equations
-Letting you know just how much better he is than you
-Flirting
-Sex
-Masturbation (Hey, sometimes you just have to take care of business)

Likes:
  • Women
  • Sex (Sometimes it just doesn’t matter)
  • Running
  • Exercise
  • Literature
  • Mathematics
  • Pornography
  • Chaos

Dislikes:
  • Violence
  • Braggarts (Those who can’t back it up)
  • Filth/Garbage
  • Meat
  • The Elderly (You know the worthless ones)
  • Order

Fears:
-Silver
-Not getting “it” up
-Having his room straightened up
-Not being able to find a piece when he needs it
-Growing old, weak, and incompetent

Agenda: Let’s put it this way. Wolfgang has been living on a pretty tight budget since he became a werewolf and discovered his particular method of quelling. Namely either by masturbation or dry-humping his furniture, whatever needs to be done to keep him occupied. Unfortunately this means that most of his furniture is ruined on a monthly basis so he must reupholster almost everything. He received a phone call one day and the money was just too good to handle. Thankfully Wolfgang is pretty good at justifying the actions he needs to take in this profession so that they don’t (technically) conflict with his morals.

What guarantees the fact that you'll stick around?: “Do you think reupholstering my furniture every month is cheap. I mean, we are talking about some serious money issues here, and I can’t just hire any bum off the road, no, I have to do this myself. Besides, I get to travel and meet plenty of women.”

Day job: Structural Engineering (It really does make things easier when you can work out of your home)

Where they hail from: Nuremberg, Germany

How they became what they are: “What is with all of these questions? How do you think I became a werewolf? Do I really need to explain such a simple concept to you? Have you never seen a movie with werewolves? If so, do you remember how that happened then? If not, do you plan on wasting my time when you could find the answer out on your own? Do you like me asking all of these annoying questions?”

Notable experiences since then: “I know I must be fascinating, but really…please leave me alone.”

Opinion of the others:
Humans- “The women are fun to laugh with and the men are fun to laugh at.”
Vampires- “I’ve got a long, hard stake for them right here!”
Witches- “They’re sweet as pie!”
Werewolves- “I haven’t met any others, but if they’re all like me they must be extraordinary!”

Criminal Record: Wolfgang has pretty much tried to stay under everyone’s radar as best he can. While after he was originally turned into a werewolf there were a few…let us call them “accidents” (An occasional rape/murder here and there until he figured out how to keep his animal instincts under control by his particular method of quelling) but since then things have been pretty smooth and easy going.

Specialty: “Oh…so that wall was supposed to stay up? It’s not my fault you went with cheap material.”

Quelling: (See, vocab.) Insane amounts of masturbation/dry-humping. “Would you care to join me my little Liebchen?”

Social standing: Wolfgang tends to do reasonably well by himself in concerns to other people. He’s not much of a prick, he just comes off that way most of the time due to his supreme understanding that he could probably rip whoever he’s speaking with into little pieces just short of 5 seconds. Well there’s that and he pretty much knows how much more intelligent, handsome, and confident he is than you. Yeah, on second thought you might not like Wolfgang too much; intimidation can be fickle-mistress. Good thing this guy prefers to do his own thing.

That is unless it comes to women. He loves the women, and most times they love him too. It’s not uncommon to see him with a different woman on many different occasions. Due to his whole, “I turn into a beast and dry-hump everything is sight once a month,” problem he can’t really get involved with any one women for long periods of time. Sure, he may be considered something of a jackass on many occasions, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t know how to deal with women.

Now, let us discuss his living arrangements, or at least his living preferences. You can usually find him in a mid-sized apartment, nothing too large you know one bed one bath with a few other rooms to play in, but things tend to get a little…messy. Wolfgang is a proponent of what he refers to as “cleanly chaos.” To elaborate on this subject let’s clarify that the second word is dependent upon the first. Chaos entails everything is strewn about in a fashion such as nothing is where most people would consider “it should go” or “how it should be” where “it should go.” Now most individuals might assume this means there is garbage and left-over food left lying about willy-nilly, this is where they would be wrong because Wolfgang abhors filth as much as he does orderliness. Understand the concept of “cleanly chaos” now? If not then too bad.

Social Stealth: Unfortunately, being a werewolf means that most other animals in the kingdom can pretty much sense what you are. It’s not all bad, dogs love Wolfgang, but cats hate him though. The only time he really needs to worry about anything is when the full-moon comes out. Then he needs to just stay locked up in his pad and get busy “quelling.”

BENEFITS FROM THE RACE
  • Heightened Senses- You should already expect this one. Werewolves are like any other canine when it comes to their six senses (Yeah you heard that right) except their visible spectrum includes those colors visible by humans. All in all if you smell, make a sound, or are visible in a generally large area and are currently being hunted by a werewolf you might as well just lay down and wait for it. The longer they chase you the slower your death is going to be.
  • Superior Strength- Let’s put this in a format understandable by humans. Wolfgang approaches wall, wall crumbles into dust, Wolfgang sneaks up on tank, tank has mighty hole ripped in the side, Wolfgang wants to play fetch… well he’s not going to use a ball just to let you know.
  • Rapid Healing- “So you want to hunt a werewolf? What kind of weapons are you taking? Do you have any silver bullets? So that’s a yes, hunting rifles and shotguns, and no…Good luck with that one. Make sure to tickle them with a feather while you’re at it.”
  • Self-Control- For being the epitome of mayhem, destruction, and the embodiment of chaos most werewolves tend to have an amazing capability of self-control. Let’s refer to it as their “iron will” in a day and age where such a will is needed. Naturally, not all of them have such a strength of resolve, but they tend to die very quickly due to the whole, “I can’t control myself,” bit that causes trouble for most other folks.

WEAKNESSES FROM THE RACE
  • Frenzy- Werewolves are much like most other wild animals in the sense that once they start fighting a frenzy begins overtaking their senses. Luckily they also tend to have a heightened sense of self-control which balances out such primal urges, but exposure to any kind of fighting for long periods of time will ultimately lead to an all-out frenzy. And just FYI that means bad news for everyone.
  • Susceptibility to Silver Poisoning- Unfortunately most of the fairy tales and stories are true. Something about silver just reacts with a werewolf’s blood and it becomes some kind of instant toxin. Luckily there are very few people who will go out of their way to spend that kind of dough on silver bullets.
  • Endless Virility- I know what you’re thinking, what’s wrong with the potential of being able to go at it for an nearly limitless time? Well just to let you know when certain needs are not being met some people tend to get a little cranky.
  • Lone-Wolf- Sounds kind of clichéd right? Well you’re wrong if you think so. Werewolves are very solitary creatures who prefer to work, hunt, and live alone, which is mainly why so few of them are alive in this day and age. Wolfgang is not exception to this rule, and he pretty much only works with the group because of necessity.

So begins...

Wolfgan Wolf von Krieger's Story

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Micah Colby Ames Character Portrait: Balthazar Eskandar Shirazi Character Portrait: Wolfgan Wolf von Krieger Character Portrait: Sable Gossamer Valante Character Portrait: Sallie Harris Character Portrait: Annabelle Reed Character Portrait: Constantine Augustus Meyac
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#, as written by Deallo
The windows were let down a bit to let the night air rush into the speeding car. Loud salsa music escaped the radio and blared outside of the confines of the powder blue Ford sedan, going 90km/h with no signs of slowing down in sight. Observers who might've caught a glimpse at the speeding vehicle would've thought it belonged to some young reckless driver who just got their license or a thief who might've stolen the car. Of course, they were wrong.

It was the driving of an elderly woman who was all the more glad to be alive and free.

Not the "I'm glad I woke up today" alive either, like some spry elderly gentlemen, but the "I'm glad I didn't get in the shot in the face" alive that criminals often face in a day to day basis. It was because of Ebenezer, even if by accident, that she's managed to get behind the wheel of a car instead of shot, liquified, dumped, and forgotten. Driving was also a joy she enjoyed too much. Back in Mexico, everything needed discretion, driving was off-limits unless the police were a little too close for comfort and an operation needed to be evacuated. Now, she drive free and fast, the way driving was meant to be. Annabelle couldn't understand how people drove so slowly like they were scared. Excruciatingly painful is what it must feel like to drive slow. There was no rush, no excitement, from being able to take control of a strong speed machine, and just using it to trot along the roads. It needed to gallop, speed down the roads, as cars were meant to.

If only it wasn't so dangerous; everyone would've been doing it. Police would've chased her if there were more patrols that night but as luck would behold there wasn't any that had met her. She swerved around cars and turned, nearly running over a young man who was running across the street to get to a bank, cutting off a taxi, scratching it's side, the blue paint scratching off the bumper. As Annabelle was driving away, she noticed the taxi was either following her trail, or going the same direction as her. Obscenities were shouted from the drivers side of the taxi but she was going too fast and was too far to listen in. She eyed the taxi in the rear view mirror, seemingly speeding up behind her, pupils flashing back and forth to the front of the road then to the yellow car.

Seconds were passing away before beads of sweat started forming on her aged forehead and her teeth started to lightly bite her lower lip. Suddenly a loud screeching pierced the air, the smell of burnt rubber crinkling any nearby nose, powder blue Ford sedan ducking into an alley and out the other side. Annabelle turned off the radio and made a few more turns to make sure the taxi didn't follow her. The paranoia instilled in her from years of working with The Cartel were satiated as the taxi was nowhere in sight.

The docks were now in sight but the car was in no speed near stopping. Headlights illuminated the three figures and for a brief moment; seemed like it was destined to run them over at top speeds until the brakes were slammed. The screeching was enough to pain the ears and the smell of burnt rubber filled the air. The engine hummed for a moment, headlights illuminating everyone on the docks before the ignition key was turned and pulled. Annabelle took a deep breath and checked herself, padding the Kevlar jacket, and her husbands black trench coat she had on. There were four pockets inside the coat, two on each side, and each had a revolver. Her prized M1 was in a shoulder holster, seeing as how much work she put into it, it was worth it to at least buy a proper holster for it. She brought her white purse along and had it hang in her right hand; not for stylish purposes but just in case anything happened, she could make a quick grab for the M1, which would take one solid movement.

Despite Ebenezer's kindness; paranoia was still creeping up. Rightfully so, at that.

She exited the car door and slammed it behind her before she opened up the back door, the cold bite of the wind rushing over her. "Darn it." Ana silently cursed herself, spotting the luggage bag containing the rest of her equipment trapped under the back seat, where she'd have to force it out.

Her head twisted, spotting the solitary individual on the dock, and moved towards him. Annabelle did look rather odd, suiting black dress pants, a blue Hawaiian shirt with a Kevlar jacket underneath and a trenchcoat. Almost as odd as the man, who at this distance, could see he was sitting on a crate.

In any regular circumstances, she would've tried to pull out the bag herself had it not been filled with munitions and weighed heavily. The Texan didn't see it fit to bother the couple either; as it would've been very rude. She smiled sweetly at the strange man before she spoke to him.

"Excuse me dear but can you help me? One of my bags is stuck in the backseat of the car and I can't seem to get it out. If only a strong man could help me..." Annabelle said, waiting for either him to help her, or wave her away...but right arm was precariously up, holding the purse by the forearm, and across the M1 in case she was speaking to some crazy man.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Micah Colby Ames Character Portrait: Balthazar Eskandar Shirazi Character Portrait: Wolfgan Wolf von Krieger Character Portrait: Sable Gossamer Valante Character Portrait: Sallie Harris Character Portrait: Annabelle Reed Character Portrait: Constantine Augustus Meyac
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“If I threw something in the water, would you jump in, slick?”

Sallie's only regret about the present turn of events was that she hadn't gotten to make the statement herself—it was clever, and sounded like the sort of thing she might have come up with if she hadn't been so busy staring in reproachful confusion at the man who'd approached her. She'd never particularly been one to waste words on a disrespectful stranger, but now that she was going to be forced to work with this one, she wondered if this was perhaps a less than ideal course of action. Sallie rested her hand protectively on the gun at her hip, sincerely hopeful that she wouldn't have to use it this early in the game. With any luck, however, this newcomer would distract the would-be Casanova.

"You'd better take your business elsewhere, pal, or the stick you'll be fetching from God-knows-where will be your own," she thought to herself, but at the moment the urge to have the attention directed anywhere but herself overwhelmed her urge to be smug (which was a rare enough occurrence in and of itself), so she kept her mouth shut.

The newcomers were an interesting pair to say the least, both well-dressed and well-groomed. Dandies, Sallie wagered, though whether she meant in the innocuous traditional sense or the more accusatory modern presumption, she wasn't sure. Not that she was one to judge. The little one was only marginally taller than herself, and in total mass, might have been smaller (at least if Sallie wasn't taking a reality check on her own slight frame).

Conflict among their ill-matched group seemed inevitable, but she supposed someone had to step in to play the role of peacekeeper. Or at least handy distraction. She clutched the case awkwardly to her stomach and pulled herself up using one of the crates. "No need to get testy, boys. I have a feeling we're going to be seeing a lot of each other in the coming weeks. Sallie Harris, former FBI. This charming gentleman," the sarcasm in her voice was heavy, "has already introduced himself, but we could start the round all over again if you'd like."

The man (who had turned out not to be a statue at all, though she was surprised to find that out) she'd sat down beneath had taken his leave of matters, which she supposed she envied him for; if it weren't for the case in her arms, Sallie might have offered to help the little old woman herself. Now she had to interact with these upstanding gentlemen (and Wolfgang, but she supposed he was an "upstanding" gentleman of a different sort, as long as the term "gentleman" was used sarcastically), and she hadn't had a smoke in over an hour.

Fumbling with her pocket, Sallie produced a lighter and an open pack of Marlboro red. "You boys mind if I smoke?" The cigarette was already drooping from the corner of her mouth as she spoke; it was more a warning than a courtesy, and if the gentlemen in question minded, well—there was a perfectly good body of water they could douse themselves in, she supposed. Right behind them, even.

Before she had a chance to light up, yet another new voice was added the conversation, this one calling out over the already-abandoned docks. "Yooo, guys! Ylaine here! That Ebenezer guy told you about me, right?" Sallie squinted in the direction of this new addition, a small woman who reminded her of the sorts of young women she went to college with, sans the slouching hat. Assuming Dorian Gray over there was joining their party as well, the rag-tag bunch appeared to be quite the crowd.

The realization that she would be spending a considerable amount of time in close quarters with this bunch didn't bring Sallie much joy. She lit the cigarette in her mouth and took a long, calming drag, replacing the lighter as she did so. She was even polite enough to aim away from the faces of the men surrounding her—one of them in particular might have taken the gesture as undue flirtation, and that was the last thing she wanted to encourage before what already promised to be a long and uncomfortable boat ride. "Ylaine," she said thoughtfully, giving a wave with her cigarette in hand. The tip brightened and flaked along with the gesture. "Name sounds familiar, but I'm drawing a blank."

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Micah Colby Ames Character Portrait: Balthazar Eskandar Shirazi Character Portrait: Wolfgan Wolf von Krieger Character Portrait: Sable Gossamer Valante Character Portrait: Sallie Harris Character Portrait: Annabelle Reed Character Portrait: Constantine Augustus Meyac
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The notion of the large man in front of them having any semblance of manners might have, in another setting, caused Sallie to lose her metaphorical soup in uproarious laughter, or at least given her a decent snicker. Presently, she wasn't feeling so much like laughing—there was a time and a place for jokes, and this wasn't it. She did, however, get a good smirk out of the matter, which was more than she could say for the rest of the day's events. The somewhat hostile introductions (and Sallie knew that "hostile" was probably too strong a word, but it was the best she could think of at the moment) didn't bode well for the rest of this endeavor.

And all at once, a vague sense of dread at being the voice of reason for this group of less-than-conventional individuals washed over her. Even vampires weren't immortal, per se, and she'd rather like to keep her head where it sat on her shoulders. Standing around sulking was probably not conducive to that, she decided, perching her already impressively shortened cigarette on her lips and taking the old white case in her off hand. "Maybe the big lug has a point," she said, largely good-naturedly. "We certainly won't get much done standing around with our teeth in our mouth."

Sallie had a few questions she wanted to ask Ylaine. As a matter of fact, she had a few questions she wanted to ask everyone present. Who, exactly, was she dealing with? She knew that the answer as far as their employer would likely come to a dead-end; she'd been 'round the track a few times, and had made a point to glean as much out of their phone conversation as she could manage (which was about enough to fill one of the little divots in a golf-ball, truth be told). He didn't seem like the sort of man to leave information lying around, and those who knew anything about him probably wouldn't divulge that information to a stranger in cordial conversation. But the rest of the myriad of Monsters—now that was another story. Face-to-face, she had a much better chance of getting a feel for who she was working with, and already she was starting to get some small indication as to who would prove to be bearable and whom she would want to keep a good distance from on their venture.

The two vampires who had arrived earlier (she assumed they were vampires, at least, from the smell) seemed congenial enough, at least for given values thereof, and though Wolfgang made her somewhat uncomfortable and smelled a mite like wet dog, he seemed, when his wits were about him, like he was willing enough to cooperate. She'd dealt with big guys before—it was rare that she felt threatened by them nowadays. The old woman, now she looked familiar, although Sallie couldn't place her face off the top of her head. This was what filing systems were for, and she hadn't had access to one of those in over a year. The man who'd been sitting on the crates when she'd arrived reminded her of a small dog, not necessarily meek, but—well, alright, meek was probably the best word.

She had the sneaking suspicion that the was more than he seemed—otherwise, why would Abe have hired him? After all, each of them seemed to have something nasty lurking just under the surface of their humanity. He sat near the top of her list, along with the long-haired chap who hadn't said a word since he'd arrived.

Flicking the butt of her cigarette unceremoniously off the dock and into the water, Sallie decided that the best course of action was to move herself along, and made towards the end of the dock herself. "Your bag's unzipped, just so you know, big guy," she added politely as she approached. "I didn't think it was legal for women to bend that way."