Achilles

[*]Name: Achilles
[*]Nicknames: None
[*]Gender: Male
[*]Birthplace: The glorious and powerful ancient city of Pharsalus, the famous Phthia of the Mycenaean period
[*]Species: Werewolf
[*]Class: Warrior
[*]Birthday: June 7th, 1250 B.C.
[*]Occupation: Trainor of Gladiators
[*]Body Type: Lean muscle, built for speed and agility in battle
[*]Height: 6 feet, 2 inches
[*]Weight: 201 lbs
[*]Apparent Age: 18 years old at time of first death, he maintains the appearance of this age
[*]Actual Age: 3,272 years old
[*]Hair: Shoulder length blonde
[*]Eyes: Blue
[*]Handedness: Mainly right handed, but ambidextrous with a sword
[*]Scars/Tattoos: Typical battle scars
[*]Relationship Status: Single
[*]Sexual Orientation: Straight
[*]Personality: Typical of a demigod - arrogant, intelligent, tender to those close
[*] Resides In: Currently employed by an arena that fights werewolves in gladiator style arenas

Achilles, king of the Myrmidons, son of the mortal Peleus and the sea nymph, Thetis. Knowing that her child was destined to either die the death of a glorious warrior or live a long life in obscurity, Thetis dipped Achilles as a child in the waters of the River Styx, by which means he became invulnerable, except for the part of his heel by which she held him—the proverbial “Achilles’ heel.”

Achilles was the bravest, handsomest, and greatest of all the Greek warriors in the Trojan War.
During the first nine years of the Trojan War, Achilles ravaged the country around Troy and took twelve cities. In the tenth year a quarrel with Agamemnon occurred between the King and Achilles when Achilles insisted that the King restore a Priestess of Apollo, the King's prize of war, to her father, a priest of Apollo, so as to appease the wrath of Apollo. Agamemnon refused.

Achilles refused further service to the King, and consequently the Greeks floundered. Achilles, having finally reconciled with Agamemnon, rejoined the war. The poet Arctinus in his Aethiopis took up the story of Achilles and proclaimed he was killed by Paris, a son of Troy, with an arrow guided by the hand of Apollo.

Put away the Odyssey, the Iliad, and the hundreds of other poems that have been written about me. Smash the ancient pottery that bares my image, for they are no longer needed. I have ceased being a fabled story of the ancient days of Greece and have been reborn into this modern world. Do not let my rebirth fool you, I am still the same lethal warrior, just here and now.

Of my past, I know what you know. I don't remember the details of that life, nor do I wish to. I remember how to fight, rather my hands remember the grip of a sword and how to render a death blow. I always wanted to fight. Even as a child I sought to pick fights just to see if I was good enough to win. One day, I picked a fight with a guy that destroyed me. I barely walked away from that fight due to power in his punches. I had to know his secret. I certainly figured out his secret when the bastard wolf bit me. Now I am even more powerful than I was when I was the celebrated warrior.

Because fighting was my first love, I sought out places where I could fight for money, which led me into the Gladiator Arenas for supernatural beings. I was a champion again. First to draw blood, first to tap out, and battles to the death, I participated in them all. If I got to fight and it made me money, I would do it. I became a legend once more. I was not owned or forced. This was my choice. I entered myself into the fights and pocketed my winnings.

It wasn't until I had traveled the world and finally was ready for a rest that I accept a position to teach and train gladiators for the arena. Did I know I trained slaves? Yes. Did I know most of the werewolves I worked with would be sold off into torturous lives? I assumed. I had no control over their fates. All I could do was give them enough knowledge and skill for them to have a chance. That was my peace in the midst of the cruelty: I gave them a chance to survive.