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Fenrisulfr, Wolf of Ragnarok

He was as one with the ice that covered the place, or at least that was how it appeared. His white clothes and hair, the white mane wrapped around his shoulder, they all served to make him appear almost regal against the tall dormitory that had been capped by frost and ice. Standing there motionless, it was as though his narrow eyes saw through the chilling mist into those of his enemies without any trouble, unblinking...unflinching. Within his right hand he clutched the hilt of a weapon loosely, though he did not seem intent on drawing it straight away. There was little to threaten him in the two who were now marching towards him, studying what had been done to this place with inquisitive gazes and in at least one, a rather tangible amount of fear. He didn't even need to look into his eyes to notice it, however...he could sense it, smell it, he knew just how dangerous these two were or weren't as though it were a sixth sense to him just to know. Motionless he stood, but motion crept into his feet in an instant as he slowly began to walk forward towards them, perhaps in greeting...perhaps in warning. Or maybe, and most likely, it was a little bit of both. "Walk away," he ordered them simply, unwilling to waste more complex words or even an explanation on the likes of these two. His were the words of a deity, not theirs, and if they knew their place they would escape from whatever wrath they might incite within him. If they were foolish and carried on as though they meant to challenge him...he could make no such promise to either. Nor would he want to...the insolent were a plague that should be wiped from the Earth as far as he was concerned. Only the proud, the brave, the strong...those who recognized and/or earned their place amongst the hierarchy of things were worthy of his notice, and only those at the highest end of the spectrum ever caught his gaze. He was the white wolf, the jaws of Ragnarok and the beast that would one day slay the mighty Odin. Ferocity and strength were his hallmarks, unmatched amongst the pantheon.

And these two were little more than trespassers taunting fate by standing before him. The same could be said for the bloody one and the summoner who made their way independent of one another towards him now. It was plain that neither of them intended to walk away from this confrontation without a battle, from the scent of copper and iron on the first to the sound of the gun clicking at the wrist of the second. How foolish of them...but not unexpected. Some people simply needed to be taught their place...

"I won't tell you again," the wolf's cold voice crossed the air, no white breath escaping his lips into the chill sky as he spoke, almost as though he were one with the frigid climate...as though it were to make him a better hunter, "Walk away." Clear, concise, with a dreadful promise dripping from the end of each words, his words might have seemed to slip from a noble tongue if it weren't for the utterly intimidating aura about him. Then again, there was nothing saying that the two could not be related to one another. In fact, he clearly considered himself to be of a much higher order of demon than the ones in the possession of the summoner, and of a much more terrifying order of warrior than any of those who now stood before him. And he was more than willing to prove it, if only to remove such filth from his sight. He would not ask them again. And if they so much as hesitated...then the lesson in humility would soon begin.

Fenrisulfr, Wolf of Ragnarok

Menacing as the Wolf or Ragnarok was to look at, there was nothing quite like the terror of actually finding yourself on the receiving end of his terrible strength; unfortunately for them, none of the gathered crew had been intimidated into retreat or seen reason when he told them to walk away from what could only be an impossible battle for them. Humility it was for them, then. He would teach them with his claws and fangs and all the strength that made the gods fear him why they should have walked away when confronted with this Fenrisulfr; it wasn't particularly even a malicious endeavor...only just, a cold-hearted reminder of their place in this world...and that this place would always be below him. Though he couldn't say that he didn't hate those who dared to challenge his strength, for he had not been bound for no reason. Now these pathetic infantrymen, peasants and yeomen before his skill, even deigned to throw the first strikes upon this Fenrir as though they meant to strike him down? Mincing Slices rained down upon him but he needed only the claws on his left hand to repel them, as though they were physical blades that he could simply parry with the steel-like nails at the ends of his fingers. Blue energy then crashed down, Agito's battle cry echoing across the field and sending power aimlessly exploding around him, but the dust that rose around him did not mar the pristine face or the white hair or flowing mane of the White Wolf. Instead, he stood with narrowed eyes, unimpressed by their attacks, ready to challenge them to simply force him to move from that spot or bat an eyelash or draw his weapon or something...which is precisely when the sudden, massive dirigible made its unscheduled descent from the sky in his direction, a mass of metal and plastic and hydrogen that bore down on him with enough explosive power to level half of the town if it were to land in the right spot...but here on the outskirts and with this impossible frozen shell, it was practically harmless save for those who might have been in the way of the sudden cloud of fire and ash. But even as it crashed to the ground, the Wolf of Ragnarok didn't flinch or feel even the slightest inkling of fear, a drop in his stomach, or a cold chill down his spine at the raw damage it could do.

Down came the blimp and up into the air went the mushroom-shaped cloud of burning gas and dirigible, but faster yet was the streak of shadow racing up the side of the collapsing blimp before leaping into the air high above it, his back set against the golden light of the moon as it raised itself into the sky behind him. Blue energy and a massive string of lightning crashed up at him, but betwixt his two fingers on his left hand he gripped what looked like a golden wire...which suddenly took light and the form of a deadly whip. Spinning the whip around his body, the two attacks struck but did not seem to do damage to the deadly, man-shaped creature, and instead, back in their direction came a wave of unsettling magic that diluted their bodies and stole away their resistances...it was a prelude to what came next but they would have little time to process and no time to react. His unforgiving eyes and cold, merciless lips settled into a haughty line reflected down upon them the whip moving faster and faster, until his body was caught in the spin as well, so fast it was nigh-impossible to follow. And when his voice carried across the sky it was with a low, dangerous echo that it reached their ears, a signal that the slaughter had only just begun.

"Whip of Light!" was the name of the technique, and in a flash the long whip, faster and more accurate than a skill of its ilk had any right to be, lashed in a torrent of perilous blows that pounded Fenrisulfr's enemies to the ground and lashed at their clothes and skin, ripping them open and spilling out their crimson blood across their bodies in one, two, multiple wounds that were thin, long, and precise...not fatal or crippling, but painful and bloody, the type that would bleed out over time and force them to pass out before they could die. It was clear from just that move that he wanted them to suffer, that he intended to brutalize them and chew them up into ruined pieces of flesh before he devoured them. This wasn't intended to be a battle at all...it was a feast for true-to-life monster. And even if he held no malice towards any one of them in particular, they had forgotten their station in life and would now be made to pay. This frozen place, these frozen people...they belonged to him now, so long as he was standing here.

...It went without saying that he did not play particularly well with others.

Soon thereafter, his descent to the Earth came more swiftly than physics suggested should have been possible, but he landed on two feet smoothly and in the center of all his foes. Cold, aloof, and utterly ferocious...his aura emanated with a terror and a promise of doom that few could hope to match. One move...one step forward...that was all it would take. He was lightning fast and fatal with every strike he aimed if he so wished it.

And it was their move once more.