Age:
Thirty-One.
Additional Appearance:
Standing in at a lofty six-foot-four-inches, and weighing a healthy two-hundred-sixty-two pounds of raw muscle and dense bulk he's not exactly a teddybear at first glance. Hazy-blue eyes often glazed over with a look of marred disinterest and violence reinforce the irreproachable nature of bear's frame, but the toothed grin of a Kodiak wipe that away with ease. Short, shaggy black hair, a well kept scraggle of a beard and several earrings in each bring a subtler, softer vibe to his sharp, if not harsh features. Odd tattoos mark his arms, and even his left knuckles, while a whirlwind of battle scars make up his chest and back.
In bear form, Reggie stands 5'1" on all fours, and an impressive 11.5" on his hind legs. Most impressive however is his weight, though Kodiak's tend to be bulky, Reggie weighs in at a dominant nine-hundred-eighty-nine pounds.
Clothing:
Simple, comfortable, and a tid of durable is all it takes to end up on a bear. Often wearing nothing more than jeans and some sort of jacket or hoodie, Reggie's wardrobe is both limited and ragged. He tends to wear an outfit until it's torn to ribbons, or in such a need of a washing it's wiser to just toss it out. He has a 'fetish' for steel toed boots as well, them being the only form of shoes he wears when 'forced' to cover his feet.
Weapon:
Two slightly unconventional weapons lend aid to Reggie's fighting style. Thick steel gauntlets, plated to the elbow and inlaid with older markings, cultural bear insignia's and symbols, and bloodstains are his usual preference. Whereas most Were's enjoy differing slightly in their combat while in a human form, Reggie embraces his inner bear finding his fists the best way to go. He doesn't abide by any one martial art, instead using a mixed and often vast variety that mirrors the primal rage, and fun sporting of a bear in battle.
His other weapon is merely a variant, very similar gauntlets of blackened steel, except each finger on this is extended into a 3" claw.
Faction:
Werewolves.
Rank:
Pappa Bear. Reggie is an autonomous member within the werewolf tribe, adhering neither to their ranks or customs. Originally he and the Alpha had a decent relationship which hinged on him just passing through the tribe at times, only recently has he taken up a fragile residence within it. He acts as a sort of hired muscle, often policing both outsiders and tribe members a like.
Animal:
Kodiak.
Background:
Bears and werebears are extremely fickle when it comes to many things, especially offspring. Father's are never present, and mother's defend their young with a passion so fierce it's become a legend among humans, but that doesn't mean they're close. To an outsider, picturing a bear mother as close to her cubs, if not smothering may just seem to be common sense, but it truly isn't usually the case in nature. Outside of threat, or true danger they can be surprisingly uncaring. Cubs are generally giving a very long leash, and free reign over what becomes considered a 'den mother's turf", and mothers try to push off self-reliance so they can return to their own lives knowing their cubs will progress fine. But personalities vary as much in bears, and werekin as humans do, and Reggie's mom was very easily how a normal human may picture a momma bear. She set up a massive Den-turf, and upheld a constant vigil on the three of her cubs. You'd think being able to explore a large expanse of the mountains knowing your mother was watching you, and feeling fully protect would be every young bear's dream, but it just wasn't for Reggie.
Though born in human form, like his two siblings, he quickly found his animal form, and within no time began to spend more time in it than as a humanoid. Kodiak ran in his blood, or maybe to be more accurate, a little bit of Reggie ran through the Kodiak nature itself. He embraced the more wild aspects of heritages and didn't seem to look back. A large child in both forms, he was off exploring the treelines before his siblings, and unlike them in later days he felt little satisfaction in it. The all knowing, all seeing, ever present gaze of his mother seemed to curb his wanderlust. Or at least beat the enjoyment out of it. Constantly he gave his mother fits by pushing boundaries and straying to far. When he still just a young boy he left the bounds of his mother's den, which she knowingly allowed. It didn't take long for him to run into another, more mature bear who shooed him off in disinterest. Being a very young, very reckless, and large Kodiak of all things, he did what his wild nature told him was completely natural. He instigated a fight. To say it was the most one-sided fight in bear-history would be no figure of speech. Reggie was quickly beaten within and inch of his life. When his mother figured he'd had enough, and thought he was about to be killed she stepped in, the older werekin backing off instantly. She was content in thinking Reggie'd learned his lesson of caution, but unbeknownst to her he'd learned nothing of it. Instead, he'd learned what respect meant. He saw it in the older werekin's eyes the moment his mother showed, and he knew it was exactly what he needed. From everyone.
Though even the most clinging of werebear mother's leave their cubs young, Reggie was dissatisfied. Still a babe to his kind, he broke from his mother's grasps, putting a massive distance between himself and her while she slept as a message to her. One she understood. It wasn't hatred, or angered rebellion, it was a pure need for freedom, and she allowed it. The first ounce of respect Reggie had earned. It did however hold grave consequences. Being fully independent was exhilarating, and utterly terrifying. All the bears this high in the trees, and alone like him would be bigger, smarter, and over all stronger. And this time his mother wouldn't play cavalry and save him. Using what little his mother had managed to teach him, and a lot of trial and error, he did manage to survive. For the longest of times that meant surviving off other's scraps and taking a beating for doing so, but that didn't seem to faze him. If anything each gash, or bruised and broken bone he got helped forge the wilds into him even deeper. He learned by watching the older werekin, by just trying something he'd come up with, or by studying his last failure, but never by asking. His sheer endurance had eventually earned him a little respect. Other werekin would move a bit at streams, or not fully hog choke spots once they saw him, allowing him a few fish before chasing him off.
That carried on until his teen years, when he'd finally had enough. Something eventually clicked in him, that drive and desire to be free, truly free, which meant no one stood in his way. A local stream was good for fish, not great, but good. And one older Grizzly had set up shop there and bullied just about anyone it could, Reggie included, always chasing him off. One summer's morning though, a challenge was issued. A respectful one, and fierce dual had begun. Usually within werekin and normal bear culture, a respectful challenge for a fishing spot, a kill, or even petty dominance was commonly not a fight to the death. One almost always yielded in defeat, and such was not considered shameful. But Reggie's ended in death. The bear was older, but a little smaller. He'd seen fights, Reggie had only seen beatings, and it was as if his entire life's abuse climaxed into one prolonged moment. In a fit of berserk brutality, not long after the fight began, it ended with the Grizzly beheaded. His first true fight, with one considered his greater no less, ended in a kill. Reggie's kill, and though it may have been considered over zealous, or even in poor taste by the older bears, it felt good. It felt amazing. The stream was his now, but it wasn't enough.
A sort of battle-lust set in to Reggie's bones, his blood, his muscle. Everything about him changed that day, and he carried himself high, with dignity, with might. He began to roam the mountain, going from place to place, challenging and besting anyone who'd give him the time. Respect was still understood, worthy opponents who fault well were allowed to yield, as was Reggie when bested, but the population of werekin went under a sort of weeding as he swept the mountain side. It was at the apex of his self imposed Gauntlet of battle that he finally had a run in with the Werewolves. Which was, by all accounts odd, considering he was a good Twenty at the time.
A pair of young cubs, no older than three or four had managed to land themselves in some trouble. A small group of human hunters in the area mistook the youngins for actual wolves and had proceeded to capture them, planning to sell the pups for quick cash. The rub came that they deiced to do this in the middle of Reggie's ever expanding empire of land and respect. All three hunters were torn to tiny shreds, and as what had become a hulk of a bear turned on the captured pups, with the obvious intent of either thrashing them within an inch of their hides, or out right eating them six fully matured wolves showed up. Not particularly wanting to fight a small pack, he backed down, which they took as a sign of respect, which they returned.
He was invited to their tribe, as a friendly guest, and from there a tentative relationship was formed between Reggie and the Alpha.
It was also a rather sad day for the male youths of the tribe. As the cubs and hunters spread tale of Reggie's kills, young men thought it would be funny to put what must have been errant boasting to the test, and defeat him to impressive the ladies. One by one, those arrogant, or dumb enough to make the challenge of the night ended up with a painful beating. Those who could've taken him, with ease or otherwise, were somewhat mocked for not bothering to challenge him. The next morning however, they were considered the smart ones because they weren't limping and moaning about with broken limbs.
Personality:
You might think he was your average werebear. Often lounging around, not a fan of great exertion, often well tempered and only somewhat interested in the world. But you'd be a bit wrong there. The deep rumble of a chuckle, so freely given, and the casual smiles of self contentment serve only when nothing's happening. For a bear, Reggie's extremely curious, often poking about anything he may deem interesting. Though civil, and often downright a teddybear, he's still as feral as a werekin gets. To call Reggie wild for a werebear would be no understatement. He may seem as calm, collected, sluggish and tempered as your average werekin, but for a bear he's still running way to hot. His temper may not have a hair trigger, but his blood lust sure does. An unshaken wanderlust still holds him, and though both body and mind have been carefully forged through countless violent encounters, the desire for a challenge is always there. A good meal, some soft music, and someone worth pounding into the dirt will always catch his attention.
That said, it's not surprising that he doesn't exactly fit in with the wolves. He's not one for the trapping of tribal life, if only just how close everything is, and despite being hired to both protect, and enforce the tribe he's got an odd sense of it. A lot of the issues he'd be supposed to police tend to slip by, because to Reggie a lot of things are a matter of personal pride, and tribe respect. If someone steals something from you, he's not going to go help you get it back, in fact he'll tell you to fight. If you win, then the thief was wrong, if he won, than he was no thief. It belonged the winner to begin with, regardless.
How do you feel about the other faction:
Sort of a difficult subject. No single feeling can be just blanket-ly thrown on to the entire upper pride lands. As long as they don't infringe on bear territory you're not going to see the average bear pay them any thought. Especially the small Kodiak population, but Reggie's eye is on them. He can easily see how the new werecat refugees could bring the entire pride to his doorstep, which is both concerning, and damn fun sounding.
Miscellaneous:
Theme - Motörhead - One Short Life