A magnificent castle ruin grew from out of the darkness. It was very old, and broken down in places. Only a few surviving turrets remained, and only one tower. Ivy spread over most of it's face. It was vast, but derelict and abandoned. Your spine crawled with fear. What lay in this place?
After what seemed like an eternity, you plucked up the courage to approach the castle, curiosity overwhelming your fear. You simply had to know more about this place. Who had once called this place home? Probably kings, you thought.
You stepped through a great arch that was probably was a huge doorway, the wood of the great oaken doors probably rotted away years ago. You peered into the darkness. As your eyes adjusted to the gloom, you stepped into a great hall, or, at least, it must have been a hall, it's roof had long since caved in.
Daybreak. A pale morning light slowly creeped into the castle ruins, casting the entire hall in a pale grey light. Suddenly, this place didn't seem so inviting. I shouldn't be here, you thought.
As you turned to leave, there, framed against the great archway, was a large male lupe. "Looking for me?", he sneered, his deep, gravelly voice inflicting a slight twinge of fear in your heart. You nodded.
He sauntered towards you, head held aloft and his gaze fixed and unblinking at you. He moved with a kind of aristocratic air, elegant and endearing. A gold earring glinted on his left ear as it caught a ray of morning light. He was tall and elegant, and his fur was a pure white. He had only one eye, his left was covered with an eyepatch. A long scar ran through it. Ouch, that must have hurt, you thought. His one good eye was a dark brown color. Almost human..
Then, quite suddenly, he turned away. Climbing up the stone steps, he stopped, turning his head ever so slightly towards you as if to ask: Are you coming or not?
After a moment's hesitation, you decide to follow him, your steps echoing in the great cavern-like hall.

My story? My story is none of your concern. Oh very well, if you insist.
I was named after Anifail's favourite actor, Michael Wincott. It's her tribute to him, I suppose. Ahem. Be that as it may, I was born to aristocracy. A life of privelege and leisure. I detested it. I knew I could be something more. I remember the stories that Anifail used to read to me when I was younger. The Three Musketeers. Like the Musketeers, I wanted to serve something better than myself. I was a fighter, a warrior, not a noble. And, being rash in my youth, I challenged another lupe to a duel. Being both more experienced and more skilled than I was, he slashed my left eye with a powerful hit with his paw, and I was blinded forever more.
I cover that bitter memory with a patch. Only a single long scar is still visible. A remnant of the old days.