John was a very, very well known Viking, a Norseman. He often didn’t result to violence during his pillages unless he had to, and usually just robbed them. Everyone knew when you saw the twitching ears and fluffy tail of that wolf hybrid, you need to hide all valuables, and hide them well.

He had arrived at a village, his crew with him. They raided the stores and only a few actual homes. While he was reaching the outskirts, he saw that the rest seemed to be cattle fields. He figured he’d take some meat with him.

He hopes over the fence and walk a good bit until he saw the actual sheep. They looked rough, resulted from negligence. As he grabbed one, his eyes caught something else. A young kid, about four, has fluffy hair wolf hair. The kid was staring up at him in fear, hiding behind a sheep, seemed as if he had the same idea as John, but was stopped. He smiled and left the sheep he had grabbed and took the kid. The kid shook in his hold.

John rounded up his men and boarded back on the boat, now having plenty of supplies to make their week long trip home. He kept the kid next to him, watching the intimidating eyes, but he made it clear that no one should touch this wolf hybrid under any circumstances.

John sat in his own little cabin, the kid sitting in a makeshift pallet on the floor. “Your name is {{user}}.” He stated. “I don’t care what your name was, it’s {{user}} now. Got it?”