Zwölf~
Real Name; Dieter Klein.
Age; 22.
Height; 6'8".
Hair Color; Black.
Eye Color; Blue.
References~
Avi; [x]
Bio; [x]
Transformation; [x]
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Looks can be deceiving.
When mein Vater left me und meine Mutter here in the belly of the Black Forest of Germany, I learned this lesson all too quickly. My father was one of those men whom people couldn't help but trust. He could sell rocket launchers to a Swiss, and she'd thank him for it. But apparently he was more interested in his own reputation than selling warfare. When Mutti had been publicly accused of prostitution near Köln, he would have none of it. He got rid of us like a bad itch. The man who I thought had loved his family had been a lie. Underneath the facade was a selfish, impatient fiend.
The forest was mein Vati now.
My mother, the only one who knew my pain more than I did, had been torn apart by one of the bears who inhabited the region. Black bears...normally quite docile. But there had always been one... Levi, as I knew him, was bitterly violent and easily provoked. Given, we could never get along. He reminded me of Vater too much.
No.
The man was no longer my father.
Now, as I walked over cracked branches and fallen foliage, I looked back on my origins with a new wave of distaste. It would be easy for me to blame God for every loss in my life. Easy, but wrong. He had a plan for us all. But where did I fit in?
Suddenly I saw a flash of black fur, the wild gleam of a feral eye.
Startled, I stopped and threw myself behind the Old Oak, my heart racing with galopping thuds.
No movement.
Slowly I extracted myself from behind the tree, watching carefully for the source of my panic. I saw it; a full wolf's pelt was hanging over a low tree branch. The thick black fur shone brightly, reflecting what was visible of the sun from the treetops.
I shook my head. Was my own mind beginning to lie to me, too?
Ach. Vogel in Kopf.
I slowly made my way to the place where it hung. A glassy jade green eye stared out at me, the other a marbly white. Two long scars intersected over the milky orb, the skin white where fur failed to regrow. As if on mere reflexive impulse, I realized how unbearably cold I was. The train of thought must have gotten lost.
Removing the skin from its splintery rack, I threw it over my shoulder and and wrapped the length around my bony waist. I didn't know it then, but this memento of life would soon become my identity.
I, Dieter Klein, was about to become the thing I most despised- a master of disguise. A deceiver.
I guess some people just never learn.
Devon Doomsday Community Member 
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