[Kenai Peninsula Wolf] Samson

[Deleted]

OOC
Name: Zen
Years RPing: Seven
Other: Milk is my third favourite cow fluid
How You Found Us: 

General
Name: Samson
Birthday: 1st March 2015
Gender: Male
Species: Kenai full breed [extinct slot purchased]

Physical
Height: 52 inches
Length: 101 inches
Weight: 247 lbs
Coat Color: White
Eye Color: Rosy pink
Health Issues: Albinism, linked to occasional light sensitivity. Prone to sunburn.
Other Information: Increased size, dissociative identity disorder (has an alternate persona named Samael that is schizophrenic by definition, though his dominant persona is relatively sane).

Mental
Mental Stability: Insane
History:

Conception thread: Foreigner's God [Mature]
Birth thread: Glory



From the perspective of Samael (Sah - may - el): a figure from Hebrew lore, meaning "Wrath of God" and an important archangel who is accuser (devil), seducer and destroyer, and has been regarded as both good and evil.

"I am the unseen voice, wayfaring through the minds of mortal swine. Disbelieve if you will, but skepticism will you offer you no protection from me, as Samson will soon discover. My own tale is a short one, despite the millenniums it has traversed…

My name is Samael. According to a lore long forgotten amongst primordial voices, I served a mighty and nameless god far removed from the reign of Fenrir – nameless, but one of the ancients. And I served him well, for a time, as the accuser of Death, the Seducer and the Destroyer, but caught somewhere amidst his servitude I was lured to the compulsion of evil, when my duty demanded all but neutrality. Abomination, I was called – anathema! The nameless god sentenced me to omnipotence, and obliterated my sacred body, leaving me as all but a wandering entity with illimitable power, but no body to wield it. A sullen punishment, indeed – and from that moment and for generations to pass, I was forced to travel within the minds of mortal creatures in order to allow my spirit to survive the ages, hoping to one day regain a body for myself.

I drove my previous host, a white deer, insane, as his body began to sink with age. An inbred disgrace. I wanted no part of his elderly weakness – and so I chose Samson, another white host. Another mind to keep me moving. His heritage intrigued me, steeped in a mystery so dark, I could hide in its depths for an age.

A family born from the very oblivions of mythology – or perhaps a tale procured from a mind fettered in madness, depending on your penchant for rejecting the unknown. Samson’s history is shrouded by many things dark and unforetold – gods and Prophets, rape and murder, the terrifying rise and inevitable plummeting of empires. Whether there are any fragments of truth hidden within the medley of lunacy and lore is yours, and yours alone, to decide. 

Samson’s grandsire was a mad and powerful prophet, a kenai giant named Belial, wrought to purpose by the calamitous god Fenrir. Under his guidance, the prophet claimed the fragile Ahri for himself, forcing his seed within her and implanting the monstrous spores that would become the rise of their own empire – the pack known as Ferus, reigning over Ina’mos island as its elusive haven. But along with Belial’s unearthly size and power came a far more insidious and unseen consequence gifted to him by his God; a slow but crippling poison of the mind, a madness that would render the brute’s desire to please the God insatiable. By the time his pups were born – Goliath, the eldest, followed by his two massive brothers, and lastly their dainty sister, Aaricia – the daunting alpha had become rendered so mad by the Fenrir’s lingering influence that he was unable to protect his family when a most heinous evil raided their home.

Osani was a newly forged pack, but ruthless in their ambition to eradicate all weakness from Anikira. They invaded Ina’mos – they slaughtered the insane Belial first, his mind’s illness an obvious weakness despite the strength of his colossal build. The prophet was powerful, but outnumbered, and ailed by his mind’s frailty, the beast fell.

Ahri was next to be murdered, but not before forcing her young children out into the sea in a final bid of survival. She, too, fell – and the pups swam, torn apart by the disastrous tide, and as each of the whelps were swept to differing shores along Anikira, none knew of their sibling’s survival, and accepted that they must have simply drowned. Hope was bleak for these lonesome few, but fate would 

keep a close watch on the young Goliath for years to come. Fate, and Fenrir, in his own ruinous guardianship – but hidden amidst all of the destiny and disaster, I was watching. Wherever tragedy lives, wounding all that it touches, I too live there, far beneath the wicked scar. 

Belial’s madness fascinated me, and his son, Goliath, possessed the same corrupt seed – but as I watched the boy grow into a beast, ascending his father’s status and reclaiming Ina’mos as an alpha, I learned that he wielded his insanity as a weapon, not a weakness. Goliath’s mind may have been broken, but it was by no means brittle, and the tyrant was far too willful to allow me to invade him. I would have to wait – for his child, a successor. Something pure and weak enough to allow me to conquer it, but with the promise of madness and power alive in its blood.

And so I waited, as is my corrupt vocation. As sure as the moon’s circadian plight, Goliath soon claimed a female, the first of many to come in that breeding season. Despite it being against her first nature, Datura soon learned that bowing to the colossal brute was the lesser evil, if she was to partake in the monstrosity that fate had concocted. The female was a survivor, after all – but her history was a self-effacing one, and for this the femme knew humility well. Her lineage was far removed from the matted lore of Gods and prophets; instead, for countless generations that preceded her, captive life was all that the Mexican wolves knew, until a fire destroyed the zoo that imprisoned them. Simple minds would claim that this calamity was a coincidence, and shrewder minds would claim it to be fate – shrewder minds yet, would know that this was an act of Fenrir. The first act of many that would bring Datura closer to Goliath. 

The wilderness was unkind to the young femme and her family, most of her siblings perishing due to unfavourable conditions, yet the true misfortune was yet to come, when the remainder were slaughtered by the vile humans that pursued them. Datura fled to the only recluse she could – the ocean. Through some otherworldly intervention, the moon and the tides aligned, and the she-wolf was swept upon Anikira, and into the very maw of the Beast. 

The two procreated – and lo and beyond, amidst their litter was a momentous brute, fair as snow. Their firstborn son was pale and unspoiled, a preference of mine, but beyond his virtuous exterior was something abyssal and unknown, a predestined lunacy that I could harness and hide beneath. His unblemished youth was no rival for the ageless shadow that passed through him in his first cold, gasping breath, and within that moment I was burrowed deep into the heat of him. No one would know – not until it was too late.

I’ll leave the boy at peace, for now, silently wringing out every piece of goodness from his cherubic soul. Let him grow and find his strength… and with it, my strength. I will carve out the nascent grace from his heart, burrowing through the valves and tubes, all to expand my residence within him. I will beat the fear of darkness into him, hounding his dreams with heinous, torturous things, night after night, until the mere thought of sleep decrees him frail and ashamed. 

And then he will hear me, a ghostly hum in the quieting dark – a breathing, that is not his own. A voice, that is not his own. Movements and feelings that are not his own, but extensions of myself rising out from the festering nadir of my home. He will lose every part of himself to me, no limb left unfettered and no organ undevoured.

His veins will become mine. His eyes – mine. His heart – mine, until Samson is no more.

I am Samael, the unseen voice. 

This is not the last you will hear of me."

Personality: Most know the lore behind Samson’s name: a man imbued with unholy strength and sacrilegious temper - a hyperbolic figurehead of valiant and terrible feats. Courageous, ominous and too bold for a world that couldn’t contain him. What mortal could slay a lion with his bare hands? Or tear a mighty temple down upon his own head?

This albino brute is the very embodiment of his namesake, for Samson is all of the above - valiant, and terrible. An antihero destined to be larger than life, but undeniably self-destructive to the point where his entire life’s vocation is a personal vendetta – against the gods, and against himself. Chaos and discord are the instruments that hold him together, and are as much a tangible part of him as are his bones and tendons. 

Samson does not believe he is worthy of love, and so he does not strive for it, but this does mean he is inherently unfeeling. If the seven deadly sins and seven heavenly virtues were believed to be true and carnal beings, Samson would be the unholy alliance between Wrath and Humility. A tireless empathetic, he is capable of profound compassion when his conscience allows, and murderous rage when disallowed. His heart is as large as it is misguided, and there is no sin too great or small that he would not commit in deference to anyone he actually cares for. He maintains to be deeply loyal to his family and pack, despite his downfalls. He is hardly a brute driven by moral code, and he would curse himself to damnation a hundred times over for the retribution of a loved one, or simply for the thrill of provoking whatever wrath may strike him from the heavens. He is a beast wrought by impulse, with a temperament so trusting some might brand him a fool. He abstains from despair, and confronts fear or uncertainty no matter the consequence. There is little consistency in his motivations, but this harmful selflessness reflects the little value he places upon himself. The opposite of his father, he lacks pride and vanity in every facet of his being. He is too foolhardy to be god-fearing, and a well-meaning heathen at the best of times. At the worst, however, he is frightfully volatile, with a blasphemous tongue and discordance for those who would seek to chain him down. This brute is destined for greatness, but moreover, he is destined for hell, and every virtue that exists in him is perverted by a burden just as vile. 

Samson is brave and altruistic, yet he is destructive and vengeful.

Samson is loyal and reverent, yet he is is manic and lustful. 

Trying to understand him without having the same fundamental insanity to fathom his hindrances would be like trying to pry apart a stone in the hope of spilling its blood. Delving into Samson’s mind, a treacherous endeavor, one will find equal parts love and equal parts darkness, in complete and seamless measure, as though the two were conceived at the very same moment inside of him, but this could not be farther from the truth. The origin of this darkness is owed to an entity all its own – Samael, a dark angel trapped within a heavenly host.

It is possible that all of Samson’s heinous qualities are attributed only to Samael’s unwavering influence upon the poor boy’s mind during its naive formation, but this is only a half truth, for aside Samson’s disgraces and failures, there is one thing that the ever-patient Samael does not share with his host – his temper. For that, Samael is guiltless, but he still proudly partakes in much of the blame for the morbid concoction of a beast that Samson will become.

-More will be added as Samson ages, and Samael’s persona becomes more focal-

In-character Relations:
Father: Goliath
Mother: Datura
Uncles: Isaiah, Sabaoth
Auntie: Aaricia
Full Siblings: Pandora, Beleth, Erebos, Typhon, Lilith
Half Siblings: Valhalla, Leviathan, Valkyrie, Arya, Nimue, Croix, Hyperion, Morrigan, Fawn, Apollo, Raum, Dianthe, Artemis


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