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21st January 2008
From a bloodline of pure wolves he has been blessed with many of his family’s signature features. His coat pure white and so thick it gave him the gift to live in the harshest of places others couldn’t survive. Along with an inherited stature like his male kin before him strong and bold, large and formidable to those who do not know him. His eyes are the only feature to which gives his strong exterior away, honey brown in colour they convey the true kindness that he feels towards all. Where they once danced with joy, they have fallen to a dull pain and grief from being alone and lost.
Through previous trials he has picked up a scar or two that are concealed by his fur coat, which down to his traveling aimlessly alone has made him look rather rough. The once healthy and cared for exterior he proudly had now gone with lack of care. His movements are always precise and careful for fear more bad luck will find him has long began to show on his figure. Demogorgon looking clearly to those he crosses that he has found himself at the bottom of a very dark hole to which he is unkempt and scruffy from trying to claw his way out of.
While he was once a young and playful spirited wolf within a world that he viewed as a playground for him and his pack. Events have changed him greatly. Now instead he has become rather brooding and troubled. Longing for a place to which he can once again belong, he has so far been on this quest only to be met with disappointment. On the surface he is always cautious, continually aware of what danger could lurk. Within he is dealing with the pain and grief not just of loss but also of the longing to once again be loyal to a pack. Strong willed in all things he is adamant he can achieve some form of happiness once again. Honest to what could be seen as a fault and caring towards all.

Through within his first few precious years of life he has experienced too much happiness taken from him. Demogorgon wishes nothing more than to find some like him, not only to belong but those that may understand the troubles he has faced. Ones that can help him through his hardships and bring him out the other side back into the light where he was once carefree and safe.
Demogorgon was born in the artic; the sky was dark and would remain so for a couple of months yet. His birth like many in the pack was an important event. There ways were old and the survival and continuation of their family was regarded of high importance. Each other was all that they had and they did not take that for granted. Though it was dark Demogorgon found the snow that lay in every direction all just a playground. An innocent and carefree way to see the world for such a young mind, but he was allowed that expense. Always eager to learn and be included, never did he have a problem of finding his way into the heart of each of his pack members.

But as time passed and the light grew, he became older. Time for playfulness faded and he became more serious. Though he didn’t show any less compassion for his kin, he found new ways to show his caring nature towards them. He now guarded as they travelled, instead of being protected. He searched for food, instead of being a youngster being playful in wait for the hunters to return. Many things that the older ones taught him came very easily to Demogorgon.

By the time he had reached two he was a vital part of his packs function. There ways were old and all contact with humans was avoided. Not that it took much effort with their home environment. For to many it was uninhabitable, but for him and those like him it was perfect. But the trouble with their traditional ways and their home was that it was pure, untouched by others. However that way it wouldn’t stay forever.

Demogorgon’s pack was large, there home was more than big enough for them. But strange things began to occur. Other wolves started to move in on their land. Never had it happened whilst he had been alive. Neither could he find another who had seen such of their own kind before. They changed to something different, something that he had not seen. Where once they had four legs instead they had only two. It was a peculiar sight to behold. Their pack had only ever been as they were and that had not changed in as far back as story of their history as he had been told.

The new packs arrival meant change. The newcomers were not as kind and they only wanted their land and nothing more. Living in such a place meant there had been little competition for their territory and now they faced a fight for their home. Though his pack leaders were more than cautious towards initiating any attack that would give cause for retaliation, they stood their ground. Demogorgon witnessed such a decision being the start of what was a turf war. The outsiders came in, sneaking and attacking. There methods were effective and all too quickly they had lost all of the very young too small to defend themselves. Along with them the mothers had been injured and a couple killed.

Demogorgon’s pack had always been solid. There had been attacks before with other wolves, but they were spats compared to this. Never had so many of the pack been lost in such a short time. But never had they encountered such a dark minded group of their kind before. Ones that seemed hell bent on destroying them and not just for their territory it seemed but for pleasure. Though the order was given to pull away to safe distance, it didn’t help. The newcomers kept advancing and maintaining a strong defence started to become more of a problem. Those injured could only protect those in the centre of their base and others strong and uninjured like himself could not protect all and ensure they were fed and tended to. Demogorgon had witnessed how those in his pack that had lost others closest to them changed, there fight for survival turning into a fight for revenge. He could see how the newcomer’s attacks were affecting those still left alive, the pain of loss destroying them.

Trying to keep his assigned area protected, he had fought on. Not being able to protect all he felt the pain every time a last howl of pain escaped one who was lost. But through all he pushed the darkness that came away, determined not to fight with revenge in mind. For he could see that it wasn’t smart, that those who did ended up dead. For almost a year he had what remained of his pack moved back giving up more ground. Then they would gain only a little and lose again along with more lives. He knew it would have ended much sooner but there enemy was enjoying their looming fate and prolonging there agony.

Just before he hit three years old, it ended. They were a short run from the edge of what was once there territory. Only a handful of his kin remained alive. Most were already injured; a couple like him were the only ones fit enough to fight. But he saw how many they were against. For the first time when there enemy attacked they could see every single one of their pack. It was huge and not something they could defeat. When this had all began they may have stood a chance, had they been as vicious. But that wasn’t there way. Now they would be ran down and killed. The last few that would never make it out of there last scrap of territory alive. Breaking away like a flood what remained of Demogorgon’s family ran, wanting nothing more than to find safe ground. Truly free where they could be free from what had befallen them. But instead he ran faster than he ever had, behind him he heard running of his kin fade one by one. They had been given the order to run by one left in charge, to run and not stop. Though he wanted to stop and help he knew that it would only have ended in his demise. So he kept running until he knew he was free, the only problem was that as well as being free. Demogorgon was now alone.
21 January 1988 (32 years old)
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