ARIEL DAMIAN GREYBACK______________________________________________________________________________________
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INTRODUCTION------------------------------------------------------------
FULL NAME: Ariel Damian Greyback
AGE&BIRTHDAY&SIGNS: Twenty | b. 31st October 2006
Sun Sign
- Scorpio
Element: Water
Quality: Fixed
Ruling House: Eighth
Ruling Planets: Mars and Pluto
Mayan Astrology
- Earthquake
Mayan Name: Caban
Direction: East
Qualities: Intellectual and Practical
Chinese Astrology
- Dog
Fixed Season: Autumn
Fixed Direction: West
Fixed Element: Metal
Associated Sun Sign: Libra
Numerology
- Four
Ruling Planet: Uranus
Colours: Blue, Grey
Gemstones: Sapphire
Qualities: Practical, Dependable
SPECIES: Werewolf, formerly human
BLOOD TYPE: Half-Blood
ALLEGIENCES: Neutral
The Greyback Pack
The Mariatos Family
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Slytherin House
Slytherin Quidditch Team
The Quidditch Federation
The Firebolt Racing Broom Company
The England National Quidditch Team
The Greek National Quidditch Team
Puddlemere United
The Quibbler
The Daily Prophet
PlayWizard
The Weird Sisters
The Hobgoblins
EDUCATION:
Local Primary School – Aged 4-11
Hogwarts School of Witcraft and Wizardry – Aged 11-17
EXAM RESULTS:
N.E.W.T RESULTS:
Core Classes:
- Astronomy – Outstanding
- Charms – Exceeds Expectations
- Defence Against the Dark Arts – Exceeds Expectations
- Herbology – Outstanding
- History of Magic – Exceeds Expectations
- Potions – Outstanding
- Transfiguration – Exceeds Expectations
Electives:
- Arithmancy – Acceptable
- Ancient Runes, the Study of – Exceeds Expectations
- Care of Magical Creatures – Outstanding
OCCUPATION: Unemployed, technically.
WAND: Ivy | Kelpie Hair core | 12 ½ inches | Rigid
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APPEARANCE
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The body of the man differs to the body of the dog though both are intrinsically linked on the most basic level. They have the same wounded, half-beating heart and the strong, earthy lungs. They bear the same eyes, wide and haunted; though the colour of the dog’s is closer to a kind of liquid gold while his owners are an icy blue-cum-grey. There is an age about both of them now that is beyond the numerals adjusted to their persons. There is a noted weariness that clings to his lower lids and has aged his mouth. The vitality is still present in gait and in wry chuckles or howls but in both the human and the werewolf there is a notable recession in desire to press on, as though both have succumbed to a killer fever, working finally in tandem, rather than Ariel robustly fighting against his change every full moon. However, both remain strong and resolute. Their figures have not waned beneath their weary minds and as ever the dog has a larger build than his human, the latter still wiry but having gained a new broadness of stature having spent time under the sun, working hard in his human form rather than just in his werewolf form, hurrying around after centaurs.
The Bite, capital letters, official name, has never healed. No mixture of silver or dittany could seal up the aching wound in the side of Ariel Greyback. It is open near constantly, healing over just in time for the transformation that sees it open once more. The fear of infection no longer afflicts the young man, certainly, as it has always been a feature in his life. Mostly, he keeps it wrapped up when in human form or at least glamoured for his own sake. When in the pack, his larger-than-life bite is celebrated, fawned over even. It was not just a changing bite, of course. Rather, it was also made by his father to prove a point: to not only show who had the power but to show also that one day Ariel would too.
Along with The Bite arrives the other scars that are both self-inflicted and caused by other werewolves. There is one most particularly interesting one which splays out across his pectoral, just above his heart. A bullet wound. Yes, there was in fact one time when his step-father struck gold with the rifle. Had it not been for a combination of Oliver and his mother, Ariel would never have survived that skirmish. The rest he has either pulled across his body of his own accord or the bites and scratches and nicks here and there have come from bickering werewolves whose egos grow to large under the influence of the moon.
To return to vanity, there is very little left of Ariel Greyback that reminds those who knew him of his time in school. While he still has that narcissistic streak he no longer pays it much mind and has thus become rather unkempt. His hair has grown out, long and deep in its blonde colour but newly is beginning to streak here and there with grey. Facial hair has dotted itself along his jaw and he neither takes the time to groom it or worry after the bald patch on the left hand side of his jaw. Thankfully, he remembers to wash.
Clothing has no longer got any appeal thought it is not lost on Ariel how important it is to scrub up well – which he does eventually. T-shirts and trousers are his staple now and layers of those in the winter – though he much prefers warmer climes, of course. Shoes have been relegated to his favourite pair of boots but like the magpie he secretly he is he still has a penchant for all things that glitter and are gold. Rings and necklaces and bracelets are his secret pleasure and it something that is rather frightful to discuss as only perhaps a handful of them are ones he’s bought. Bearing his interview in mind, I am sure you can infer where the rest have come from.
The tattoos that Ariel had when he was younger still live on. An elephant on his wrist and a few others dotted here and there. Other than that though he has very much gone back to basics. In a world where there are no more luxuries for him there is no need for such pretention.
PLAY BY: Boyd Holbrook
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PERSONALITY
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TRAITS:
001. Abrasive,
002. Ambitious,
003. Arrogant,
004. Competitive,
005. Conceited,
006. Confident,
007. Destructive,
008. Focused,
009. Generous,
010. Impatient,
011. Intelligent,
012. Intuitive,
013. Kind,
014. Loving,
015. Loyal,
016. Manipulative,
017. Methodical,
018. Passionate,
019. Persevering,
020. Possessive,
021. Quick witted,
022. Rash,
023. Sensitive,
024. Stubborn,
025. Tactical,
026. Unforgiving,
027. Unsympathetic,
028. Untrustworthy,
029. Vain,
030. Vindictive.
LIKES & DISLIKES:
001. Autumn,
002. Centaurs,
003. Cooking,
004. Exercise,
005. Fireplaces,
006. Firewhisky,
007. Mornings,
008. Orchids,
009. Photographs,
010. Poker,
011. Raspberry Jam,
012. Sailing,
013. Travelling,
014. Winter,
015. Woodland.
016. Aurors,
017. Cats,
018. Cold weather,
019. Crowds,
020. Cramped spaces,
021. House Elves,
022. Marmite,
023. Merfolk,
024. Ministry Officials,
025. Musicals,
026. People, generally,
027. Quidditch,
028. Waiting,
029. Werewolf Catchers,
030. Wizards.
GOALS:
001. Find his place in the world,
002. Avoid Azkaban,
003. Avoid the Ministry,
004. Get a job somewhere,
005. Take over the pack,
006. Marry,
007. Have children,
008. Live by the sea,
009. Look after the pack,
010. Remain a bachelor.
HABITS & QUIRKS:
001. Pinches the bridge of his nose,
002. Clucks his tongue against the roof of his mouth,
003. Rubs his eyes a lot,
004. Fiddles with his old, slightly worn set of Blue Amber Kombolói
005. Carries a cracked mirror around with him,
006. Doesn’t take Wolfsbane,
007. Licks his teeth a lot, especially his canines,
008. Flexes his hands due to the way they stiffen up,
009. Sleeps everywhere,
010. A little bit of a prude now.
AMORTENTIA:
001. Pine Trees,
002. Earth,
003. Dew,
004. Autumn,
BOGGART:
Ariel’s greatest fear is no longer looking the spitting image of his father. That is something that has begun to happen regardless of what he wants or fears. No, instead, his fears have changed to something much more primal, showing just how he has synched with his wolf form. He loathes the idea of being confined. He needs the smell of pine trees, earth and dew in his lungs. He now gets as restless and destructive as the wolf used to when he is confined to a small space. Even a home is too much for him – he needs to be out under the stars. His Boggart, in that case, is a cage – or, rather, a cell in Azkaban.
PATRONUS:
There isn’t one clear memory for Ariel to remember fully anymore. Hogwarts a long time ago, this he realises, and what he remembers of that time, especially towards the end, is very fond. He can see Jack’s face, her brusque tone and her laughter. He can see Oliver. He can see the people he loves, his friends. That is what helps him cast his Patronus now and send the silvery lion darting off into the darkness. Gone is the little boy reliant on his mother’s love and he is replaced by a young man reliant on the love of others despite distance, despite time. He needs them, this he knows, and it is enough, the memories, to make him happy. To make him remember being happy.
DEMENTOR:
Ariel’s worst memory is the day his father made him change the dopey little Hufflepuff that he came to be responsible for. Following that, the way he lost her and the way he didn’t look after her. The guilt was nearly unbearable because she was his to look out for. His father, even if he was largely absent, had always come to Ariel’s aid as both a father and a sire. Ariel failed Risé and that’s not something he can forgive himself for. Not yet, at least.
VERITASERUM: He would actually rather be partial to a family of his own.
MIRROR OF ERISED: Everything being alright again. That’s all he wants.
PERSONALITY:
Ariel on Mollie (Maisie + Oliver):
Ariel on Jaxximus (Jack and Maxxie):
^ I do believe that says it all, no?
The easy thing is to tell you what Ariel Damian Greyback is not. The harder part is telling you what he is. This is not a man who can reveal himself so easily anymore, if he ever could. Darkened in many ways what he has seen and what he has had to do there is little left of the young man who has the grace to make faces such as the ones he will pull when his best friend gets hitched. There is a lot more that troubles Ariel now and it isn’t a kind of thing that he can face so easily. While the manipulation remains and the general Slytherin qualities he is not as obtuse as he was before and while he’s still stubborn and hot-headed, now more than ever he is more likely to walk away than fight back. The energy and the passion has gone. Lycanthropy has aged him.
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FAMILY & BACKGROUND
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FATHER: Fenrir Greyback | b. 1944 | Werewolf | Half-Blood | Snatcher | Pack-Leader
STEP-FATHER: Richard Brenner | b. 1981 | Human | Muggle | Businessman
MOTHER: Fiona Mariatos | b. 1982 | Human | Pureblood | Homemaker
SIBLINGS:
Orion Mariatos-Brenner | b. 2011 | Human | Half-Blood
Penelope Mariatos-Brenner | b. 2016 | Human | Half-Blood
Many siblings also sired by Greyback who are largely unknown to Ariel
NATIONALITY: Scottish-English
HOME TOWN: Killin - Gaelic: Cill Fhinn, Stirling and Falkirk, Highlands, Scotland.
CURRENT RESIDENCE: N/A
FINANCIAL STATUS: N/A
SOCIAL STATUS: Middle-Class
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CHARACTER HISTORY
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Light invaded the darkness and threw down white-gold rays onto the figures in the box room. Under its glow, the figure of Ariel Greyback was thrust, throw down into a chair, the jingle of chains and shackles mirroring his movements. In front of him, an old chipped table somehow managed to hold itself up under the weight of files and coffee cups and a knife dug into the surface, perilously close to him. Opposing his corner was a young detective, too young to be caught in the net of law keeping and not fully understand how absurdly corrupt it really was. Cool liquid was passed down his throat, the rim of a vial thrust between his lips seeing it choke back over his tongue. The twittering change within him was final in its immediacy and the looseness of his tongue set in, set in ghostly tandem with the appearance of a smirk.
“Are you going to cooperate?” The young detective asked, her voice gravelly but still notably on the side of sexiness. The thought seemed to translate into speech and the young detective’s cheeks reddened considerably before clearing her throat, repeating the question.
“No,” Ariel’s head lolled a little bit and his grin remained steadfast. “Veritaserum requires me to tell the truth, lady. No is my answer. I am not going to cooperate.”
“We know you are, though.” The detective protested. “Tell me how you got here.”
“In theory, I’m not going to comply. You cheated. I got here on the Minerva, if you must know. Little sailing boat that traipses out of some crap port in Italy. I don’t know what it was called. I don’t even know how we got there at the time. We were there to kill a family. I was. I was there. My pack mates wandered off to enjoy the local bouquet while I did my job. Ten thousand Galleons was the price. Twenty thousand if we got the young boy alive. Did we hell as like. Thirty thousand for bringing the mother alive because she was pregnant.”
“Why were you ordered to kill them?”
“Because they were Purebloods. He was not the father of the children. The father lived in Naples. He died after she left him. Broken heart. The Uncle wanted his brother avenge and to settle the will and estates. He wanted the boy alive. The woman dead. The rest of them, the pathetic Muggle and his own children… wiped out. Over and done with in a shot. He didn’t want his line sullied with Muggle ideas. The boy he could mould. The wife he would kill after the baby was born. The brothers of the mother and the grandmother… the brothers’ wives and children. Dead.”
“You did that all on your own, did you?”
Ariel chuckled, “No, of course not. I had help. I saved the boy. Killed the brothers. The mother was dragged out by her hair, if you must know.”
“Why?”
“I told you why.”
“Why did you do it? Why did you take their lives?”
“Because the pack needs the money. We need the money. I need the money. It’s what I’ve been doing. You want it to look like an accident? I can make it look like an accident. You want it to be untimely and comical, I’ll buy a piano and charge you for its purchase. I can stage a death however which way you want it staged. You learn fast if you want the cash.”
“Tell me about your childhood, Mr Greyback.”
“I fail to see what that has to do with anything. I grew up in Killin – an awful pun now if you ask me – with my mother and my step-father, eventually, and my half-siblings when they caught up, too. My father and mother were purportedly in love and my birth was a testament to that. I was a pink, bloody, squawking lump of a child and utterly perfect by all accounts. We were fine together for a long time, my mother and I. Then she met Richard Brenner and it all changed. She couldn’t deal with being alone. She couldn’t just be with me or be with me and wait for my father. She decided she was in love with the Muggle bastard and from then on in life just got better and better. Of course, daddy came back eventually didn’t he? To spite dear old mumsie he bit me. How dare she forget about him and get a life?”
“Tell us about your lycanthropy, Mr Greyback.”
“Ariel, love, please. If you’re going to hear my sob story then you might as well use my name.”
“Ariel,” the detective corrected herself. “How does your disease affect you?”
“Disease?” Ariel barked out a laugh. “Yes, disease. I suppose you’re right. My disease is as dreadful as you’d like to think it is. It used to be manageable though it would horrify you to know that that Wolfsbane never really had much of an effect on me. It was just as well that the dog that inhabited me as much as I inhabited it was as placid as anything. Unless of course the dog caught the scent or, God forbid, saw some Centaurs. He’d be off in a shot. They hated me. It was always a brilliant run, though. They got me once with an arrow – right through the shoulder. I got shtick from the nurse for a week for that one.”
“But you said it was ‘as dreadful’ as I think, what do you mean by that?”
“I mean that by the time the Full Moon arrives I want to die. That in the hours that precedes the event some werewolves joyously look forward to I want to disappear into nothing. I scream, I cry…I get a temperature. The bite hurts like nothing on earth. My whole body aches and I want to die. I beg. No one has indulged me yet thus far, however, as you can see. No, I…It’s better now. Less screaming, less crying, no temperature. The bites still aches. Aches now and it’s nowhere near the full yet. I suppose that’s what happens when you, literally, meet your maker.”
“Better?”
“Merlin… okay. Look, I used to hate it. I didn’t want to be a werewolf. You’re right. It’s a disease. I tried to fight it. I tried to fight what happened and doing so … it was killing me. Now… now it’s better. We’re more of a tag team. I did what I had to do to survive in the pack and I did what I had to do to those Muggles and those Wizards to survive in the world. So, excuse me if I have broken a few laws. Laws don’t apply to our kind – only when you bastards decide you want us in prison. Again, excuse me. I didn’t know.”
“Tell us about Hogwarts, now.”
“Hogwarts? Like what? It was tolerable. That infernal rag sorted me into Slytherin for reasons I’m sure even your little mind could decipher and so off I trundled to spend seven years harassing Hufflepuffs.”
“So we’ve heard. Tell us about one Jenny Dyllan.”
“Jack.”
“So you know who I’m talking about then.”
“This is a trick question. What do you want to know?”
“The nature of your relationship with her.”
“Why is this pertinent-”
“Tell me.”
“I fancied her. We met…we met in an old abandoned classroom or study room or something. It was just after the Tri-Wizard names had been called or before and I didn’t believe she was good enough – thought at the time that by some stroke of luck she’d fall off a cliff or something. No such luck, however. Turned out I was a typical little boy and wanted to pull on the little girl’s pony tails and get her to like me the hard way.”
“Is that all?”
“No but it’s none of your business is it?”
“Veritaserum doesn’t really work on you, does it, Greyback?”
“Please, darling, Ariel – and no, not really. I might as well talk about myself, though, while we’re here.”
“So you fancied her then, act on it?”
“Once, I suppose. It wasn’t as if it was going to last. You don’t get lasting relationships out of someone like me.”
“Why not?”
“What are you, love, shopping for a husband in Cairo’s pit of a jail? Because I’m a lycanthrope. It’s kind of in the job description that marriage and babies don’t work.”
“For the Lupins it did.”
“Yes well, their kind of scum is even more hilarious and infuriating than yours so forgive me if I do not dignify that little dig with much of a response. It wouldn’t have worked.”
“So you wanted it to, then?”
“No comment. What kind of interrogator are you? Do you want to know about my sex life and all? The last time was about three months ago in Constantinople. Content?”
“Not nearly. What were you doing in Istanbul?”
“Running drugs. What are you doing in Egypt? You’re not Egyptian.”
“People do this interesting thing sometimes, Mr Greyback – they move around. I am a liaison with the British Ministry if you must know.”
“I too must know. I’ll tell you the colour of my boxers if you tell me the colour of your knickers.”
“Are you flirting with me, Mr Greyback? You didn’t answer the question.”
“Neither did you.”
“Purple. Tell me about Istanbul.”
“Purple? Lacy, are they? We were running potions, mainly. A few bits of your classic Muggle substances but it was potions. Stupid highs that sell for a bomb if you go far enough east that they’re expensive but stay west enough that people want to know. There was also a package of jewels. Course, only an idiot would leave that sort of thing with us. We flogged it, most of it. Kept a few bits for ourselves.”
“Very lacy – yours? What happened to the recipient of the package?”
“Blue. White polka dots. Boxers. Not sure on that front. Presume he’s dead. Our orders when running is do something with the stuff that’s not picked up. There weren’t any special orders for the package. I guess our guy thought that it was definitely going to be picked up. Idiot.”
“Who is your contact?”
“And here I was hoping that you were more interested in my lover. That’s a better story. Possibly a more fruitful one, too, but as you didn’t ask we’ll move on. I don’t know. I don’t ever deal with him: my father does. Good luck catching up with Fenrir, too. The man might be ancient but he’s still smarter than the lot of you put together.”
“What about after Hogwarts? Where did you go from there?”
“I do believe I was pressganged into the Ministry by a crazy anti-Half-Breed bitch called Zoe…something. Can’t remember. I worked my cubicle’s rising pile of paperwork like a good little boy. My best and only friend in this whole world got himself a life and moved on as I always bloody told him to but, nevertheless, he stood by me. Finally he got a life for himself while I… I threw my last chance at happiness back in the face of the aforementioned redhead who meant everything to me on the quiet. So she moved on too. Then I found God… or, my father. I’m Greek orthodox, though. I’ve always had God. Might’ve lost him but… never mind. I joined the pack. Things were good for a little while, I suppose. Then we were routed from our usual haunts and we had to go into Europe. It all went wrong from there.”
“What happened?”
“We were split up in the Black Forest and I was lumbered with a few of the young ones who ran off in search of the main pack. They died, by all accounts. I got to a contact in Rome and they set me on their tail. They were heading east as far as I could tell but by the time I ended up in Turkey I had already missed them.”
“What made you come here, then?”
“I had a hunch they’d be here and, as it was, I had a job to do. Looks like I was wrong about one thing.”
“You don’t like young dogs?”
“Now that’s a euphemism and a half, my dear. I take it that’s a purple bra to go with the pants, yes? No, I don’t like the young ones. Reminds me of Risé. She was an accident. I don’t need to relive that by having my own miniature charges to take care of.”
“Who?”
“A werewolf I sired… and didn’t take too much care of. Any care I gave I didn’t do well. If I couldn’t look after someone I created. Someone of my own kind. Well, that hardly suggests I’d be a good father, does it?”
“But you want that?”
“Wanting is a very different thing from it being a good idea, my dear.”
“What next, then, Mr Greyback?”
“Well, a little bird told me that a liaison was here – oh look, there she is. I will be tried, no doubt, and then I will be ferried off to England once more to live out my days in Azkaban. I do hope to give you all the slip before then, however. In the immediate twelve hours or so I would really like to get close to this liaison and find out just what shade of purple she had got on.”
“You should be so lucky, Mr Greyback – on all counts.”
“Sweetheart, luck has always been on my side.”
Lucky indeed Mr Greyback was – on all counts.
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BEHIND THE CHARACTER
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ALSO KNOWN AS: Amy
RP EXPERIENCE: Six years, maybe? Dunno.
HOW YOU FOUND US: I live here.
MAIN CHARACTER: Eli.
PURPOSE OF CHARACTER: Because every dog has his day.
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