Post by sinisterspiral on May 27, 2009 14:48:22 GMT -5
Basic Traits
Name: Andon Torrence
Tribe: None (Ghost Wolf)
Auspice: Elodoth
Virtue: Justice
Vice: Wrath
Height: 6'1" Weight: 180lbs
Hair: Thick dreadlocks tied with black elastic
Eyes: a soft brown
Description:
Andon has the look of a traveling man; restless tourist eyes, wirey athletic frame, dark sun-drenched flesh. His face seems like it misses smiles. He hides beneath hood and jacket whenever he can, and when it is impractical to do so, he keeps his gaze low, avoiding eye contact.
Personality
He is a quiet man, reserving his words for the right moment. When he does speak it is in warning whether of immediate danger or the sort of preachy stuff one gets from elders. He is very slow to anger, preferring diplomacy over violence and evasion over either. But in the right ( in his words wrong) situation he is a mad beast, stoppable only by death or the defeat of his enemy. Luckily for him, this is generally reserved for times when the weak are trodden upon or evil rears its malignant head.
Deed Name:
Attributes
Mental
Int: 2
Wit: 3
Res: 3
Physical
Str: 2
Dex: 2
Sta: 3
Social
Pre: 2
Man: 1
Com: 3
Skills
Mental [-3 unskilled]
Academics: 2 Math
Computer: 1
Crafts:
Investigation: 1
Medicine:
Occult:
Politics:
Science:
Physical [-1 unskilled]
Athletics: 1
Brawl: 1
Drive:
Firearms:
Larceny:
Stealth: 2 Silent Getaway
Survival: 2 Weather Endurance
Weaponry: 1
Social [-1 unskilled]
Animal Ken: 2
Empathy: 3 Face Reading
Expression: 2
Intimidation: 1
Persuasion: 1
Socialize:
Streetwise: 2
Subterfuge:
Merits
Danger Sense: 2
Iron Stamina: 3
Mentor: 2
Equipment
Renown
Cunning:
Glory:
Honor: 1
Purity:
Wisdom: 1
Other Traits
Health: 8
Willpower: 6
Harmony: 7
Size: 5
Defense: 2
Initiative: 5
Speed: 9
Primal Urge: 1
Essence: 7
Gifts
Affinity Gift Lists
Auspice: Half-Moon, Insight, Warding
Tribe: Father Wolf, Mother lune
Rank 1
Sense Malice (Insight)
- 6 [2+3+1]
Wolf-Blood's Lure (Father Wolf)
- None
Partial Change (Mother Lune
- 6 [3+2+1]
Background[/b]
(The private journal of A.T.)
I was a Banker once; Not the most auspicious of jobs, but still one of pride. I mean, I was in charge of people's lives. In the span of a day I would handle a hundred-thousand ambitions. Compared to the other options a college drop-out has, I was in the black.
I didn't have everything I wanted, but I had what i needed. My family too. If there were complaints, there were all unnecesarry, materialistic things my kids would want; maybe something my wife thought we could afford. I did what I could for them and her. I still do.
Course, things are different now. I got less than any man could live on. I can't drag an elk to my wife and expect her gratitude; can't howl her a pretty tune and expect her to smile and sway to it. And my kids, well I can't hug them or pat their nappy heads ever again. Not with these hands of mine; Not after what I've done.
I suppose there's something to be said about insanity and heredity and all that. Who's to blame anyway when you snap and find yourself a cringing stowaway in your own flesh? But I ain't never blamed no body but me. My father taught me that.
Actually, he taught me a lot of things, all of which I saw only once hindsight kicked in; once i had kids of my own. They don't do a lot of listening, kids, but you gotta drill it into them anyway. That's how my dad was with me. Son, he'd say, we got a crazy family.
My uncle Saul was like me, another thing I realized while looking back. He was a dead beat, part handyman, part vagrant; All beard and soiled, tobacco-smelling clothes. My mother thought he was nothing but trouble, and while my father agreed, he knew something she didn't. Besides he loved his brother. So everytime Uncle Saul came around (mostly at night, when I was supposed to be asleep), my father clothed him and fed him and treated him normal until he'd disappear again.
I absorbed it all, not really having an opinion of the man; Never did I think about how strange he seemed, or how afflicted my dad said he was. Everybody had an uncle or two like that, where I grew up. I was confident it was just his way. That is, until the last time he showed up.
Nothing in this world could ever make me forget that night. I was seventeen; supposedly asleep, but actually sitting on the garage roof. I remember I was full of some odd anxiety, all that night and couldn't sit still long enough to get a good doze going. So when the howling started in the woods nearby our little house, I nearly fell off of the roof.
My dad, he came rushing out of the he house right about the time my Uncle Saul came shuffling up the driveway holding himself as if he were afraid he'd fall apart. They spoke in loud whispers, my dad trying not to shout. I don't know what they said but- not two minutes later- Saul collapsed. The whispering was over immediately. My dad fell beside his brother, weeping and calling his name. Mom must've turned on the porch light, 'cause all of a sudden I could see it all, the mangled, half-dressed man and lying in his own crimson fluid.
I jumped down from the roof, I guess I figured I should do something to help. Dad just about threw me into the house, asserting that if I cam out again, he'd make me sorry I was born. Anyway, some police came with an ambulance and took Uncle Saul away. there wasn't a funeral. When I asked Dad about it, he wouldn't tell me at first, but around my eighteenth birthday he just leaned over and said very plainly: Son, we got a crazy family. I just hope you never know it.
Things got real strange for me after uncle Saul died. I would have these dreams- odd or scary or both. We all thought it was just the shock of seeing someone die like he did. But it was more than that. People were weird around me, not because of what I was or anything, but they seemed snippier; Couples would break into argument, babies would throw fits. Three of my friends committed suicide just months apart form each other. All of this came together kinda hard on me, I found it harder to control my own temper at times.
College seemed like just the ticket. I figured if I could just go some place else for a while, things would cool off. They did, a little, just enough for me to pretend them away. I met my wife, dropped out when she had our first kid, and got the banker job right before the second was born.
I was twenty-two, five years older than when Saul had died and the dreams began. I thought things were going well. Thre dreams had subsided, but the anger remained. That was the greatest of my wife's complaints. I hadn't noticed it much, but my temper was growing out of control. It didnt seem to affect me much at work, when I took care to wear a mask of pleasantness, but at home I was becoming a tyrant to the kids and a savage to my wife.
I was thinking about psychiatrists one day, standing in line at the bank I worked at, just a customer on my off time- when a gunshot rang out. Some fools decided to take a chance at my bank, to try and run off with all those people's dreams. they were telling us to get down, but I just didn't want to. I mean, I was aware of the danger, but at the time it didn't seem to matter.
What happened next is something of a blur. I don't remember the details exactly, but I remember it felt great; I was strong, I was unstoppable. There was blood and screaming and the howls of nightmare hounds. I remember glass breaking around me and running with fresh air filling my lungs.
I found myself in the skirt of a pine tree, when my senses came back to me, not too far from the bank. Cops were everywhere. I would have gone out to them, to tell them what I'd seen, but I was full of fear, not to mention naked. I waited for night, then sneaked toward home.
I had the building in my sight. The lights were on, I recall, and someone was on the balcony, scanning the streets. Before I went another block, a squad car rolled up beside me. I couldn't hide, and I didn't think to run. The vinyl seats were cold against my bare skin, but at least he didn't cuff me. The cop told me I was under suspicion, not technically a suspect yet, but wanted for questioning nonetheless. I asked him what had happened, as I was still too muddled to really put it all together.
Robbery, he said, at least an attempt. Seems we had a vigilante or something on the scene. Damn place was a bloodbath. They're still counting pieces, trying to figure out how many actually died.
We rode on in silence. All the while I noticed the city thinning, then turning into interstate loneliness. A rotting feeling grew in my gut. Still I tried to be diplomatic. I asked him where we were going.
He stopped the car on some forsaken shoulder of the Interstate. There was nothing for miles but trees and roadkill and gravel. the officer dragged me out of the car and pushed me toward the trees. I can't say to this day what the man was thinking or what fell spirit may have taken his flesh. The feeling in my gut was making me tremble. I stopped moving, stopped giving into his shoves.
He made an angry sound, then screamed. Monstrous creatures charged though the trees at us. I fell to my knees, scared out of my mind. I didn't open my eyes until the sounds stopped and the rotting feeling passed.
There were two women and a man staring at me: One angry, one blank, and the man was curious. The angry one snorted and called me a wuss. The Blank one assured the first that I was a stray of some sort, and the Curious man took me by the arm and hurried them along.
They wouldn't hear my pleas or listen to my story. The didn't even give me their names. When I protested, the angry one threatened to knock me out and drag me along.
It was a long hike that night, we didn't rest until dawn. the women slept first while the Curious man kept watch and tried to explain, in the simplest non-specific terms, what was happening to me. When he slept, the Blank woman took his place, but she was in no way shy about it. Werewolf were her exact words among a slew of titles and terms I had never heard of.
You can imagine by the time the third watch came, I was pretty confused. And when the Angry one laid into me about my weakness, it added fear to the mix. She poked at me and insulted me until it happened again- I transformed. This time there was no blood spilled or screaming. The woman held me down until it was over then gave me her name with a smile: Ella 'sees-both-halves'.
I bolted the minute she let go of me, heading any direction I could go. The trio tracked me for a week. Though I'm sure they could have overrun me at any point, they kept their distance. I eventually lost them in an unfamiliar town, found some clothes, and beffed up enough money to eat and call my wife.
I didn't get too far into the conversation before Ella carried out her threat, but at least I got to tell my wife I loved her. When I came- to, i was being dragged over grass toward an old mill. Dozens of men and women were gathered about, talking and eating. If they noticed me, they didn't care.
The lodge, as I came to know it, was a gathering place for a few local tribes of werewolves. By then I was pretty convinced that I wasn't dreaming. They welcomed me rather passively, inviting me to stay a while and hear some things I ought to hear. After that, they said, I could bolt all I wanted and no one would follow me. However, they promised, if I ever were the cause of a nother scened like that at the bank, they would come for me; Only it would not be a scouting party that I would meet, but a warband.
I listened to their histories, their tales and their myths. I saw them change easily and gracefully between forms. I watched their rituals and dances and offerings to their totems.
But I could not forget the screams or the taste of first-blood; I could not forget how much I enjoyed it. What was I, what am I, that such things could give me pleasure? I could not dream of holding my children in my claws or tasting my wife through fangs. The curious man named Casey urged me to stay, arguing that nothing could make me human, for I never was one.
After all the words were said, I went back to the city, but I never came home. I begged in the streets and slept on cots, or in alleys. Several times I came close to changing forms, but fled before it happened.
Casey came to me on occasion, urging me to open my eyes and see all the sides of the issue. In the end he convinced me that I would only be a monster until I learned to control my instincts and impulses. He convinced me that a man separates himself from beast only by his will to do so. And he said, I could never do any of that until I knew the difference.
I couldn't deny her truths, but I couldn't go back either. It would be too much at once for this simple city boy. If I had to understand, then I would have to start small, work my way up to the real deal. I decided that I had lived like a beast in man's flesh too long, that to understand the wolf-man, I had to understand the wolf.
A year I've lived like an animal, working my eay through the rigors of pack life. It hasn't been easy, but over time, I've grown to accept some of what I am. I am a force of nature, like the wolf, but I can protect the herd as well as take from it what I need.
So when the invitation came to join a real pack of kin, I couldn't resist. I am not ready yet to face the beast inside me, but perhaps i can throw it at the real monsters and at least give it a good purpose.
Besides, it would feel good to be back on my own two feet again, you know?
Name: Andon Torrence
Tribe: None (Ghost Wolf)
Auspice: Elodoth
Virtue: Justice
Vice: Wrath
Height: 6'1" Weight: 180lbs
Hair: Thick dreadlocks tied with black elastic
Eyes: a soft brown
Description:
Andon has the look of a traveling man; restless tourist eyes, wirey athletic frame, dark sun-drenched flesh. His face seems like it misses smiles. He hides beneath hood and jacket whenever he can, and when it is impractical to do so, he keeps his gaze low, avoiding eye contact.
Personality
He is a quiet man, reserving his words for the right moment. When he does speak it is in warning whether of immediate danger or the sort of preachy stuff one gets from elders. He is very slow to anger, preferring diplomacy over violence and evasion over either. But in the right ( in his words wrong) situation he is a mad beast, stoppable only by death or the defeat of his enemy. Luckily for him, this is generally reserved for times when the weak are trodden upon or evil rears its malignant head.
Deed Name:
Attributes
Mental
Int: 2
Wit: 3
Res: 3
Physical
Str: 2
Dex: 2
Sta: 3
Social
Pre: 2
Man: 1
Com: 3
Skills
Mental [-3 unskilled]
Academics: 2 Math
Computer: 1
Crafts:
Investigation: 1
Medicine:
Occult:
Politics:
Science:
Physical [-1 unskilled]
Athletics: 1
Brawl: 1
Drive:
Firearms:
Larceny:
Stealth: 2 Silent Getaway
Survival: 2 Weather Endurance
Weaponry: 1
Social [-1 unskilled]
Animal Ken: 2
Empathy: 3 Face Reading
Expression: 2
Intimidation: 1
Persuasion: 1
Socialize:
Streetwise: 2
Subterfuge:
Merits
Danger Sense: 2
Iron Stamina: 3
Mentor: 2
Equipment
Renown
Cunning:
Glory:
Honor: 1
Purity:
Wisdom: 1
Other Traits
Health: 8
Willpower: 6
Harmony: 7
Size: 5
Defense: 2
Initiative: 5
Speed: 9
Primal Urge: 1
Essence: 7
Gifts
Affinity Gift Lists
Auspice: Half-Moon, Insight, Warding
Tribe: Father Wolf, Mother lune
Rank 1
Sense Malice (Insight)
- 6 [2+3+1]
Wolf-Blood's Lure (Father Wolf)
- None
Partial Change (Mother Lune
- 6 [3+2+1]
Background[/b]
(The private journal of A.T.)
I was a Banker once; Not the most auspicious of jobs, but still one of pride. I mean, I was in charge of people's lives. In the span of a day I would handle a hundred-thousand ambitions. Compared to the other options a college drop-out has, I was in the black.
I didn't have everything I wanted, but I had what i needed. My family too. If there were complaints, there were all unnecesarry, materialistic things my kids would want; maybe something my wife thought we could afford. I did what I could for them and her. I still do.
Course, things are different now. I got less than any man could live on. I can't drag an elk to my wife and expect her gratitude; can't howl her a pretty tune and expect her to smile and sway to it. And my kids, well I can't hug them or pat their nappy heads ever again. Not with these hands of mine; Not after what I've done.
I suppose there's something to be said about insanity and heredity and all that. Who's to blame anyway when you snap and find yourself a cringing stowaway in your own flesh? But I ain't never blamed no body but me. My father taught me that.
Actually, he taught me a lot of things, all of which I saw only once hindsight kicked in; once i had kids of my own. They don't do a lot of listening, kids, but you gotta drill it into them anyway. That's how my dad was with me. Son, he'd say, we got a crazy family.
My uncle Saul was like me, another thing I realized while looking back. He was a dead beat, part handyman, part vagrant; All beard and soiled, tobacco-smelling clothes. My mother thought he was nothing but trouble, and while my father agreed, he knew something she didn't. Besides he loved his brother. So everytime Uncle Saul came around (mostly at night, when I was supposed to be asleep), my father clothed him and fed him and treated him normal until he'd disappear again.
I absorbed it all, not really having an opinion of the man; Never did I think about how strange he seemed, or how afflicted my dad said he was. Everybody had an uncle or two like that, where I grew up. I was confident it was just his way. That is, until the last time he showed up.
Nothing in this world could ever make me forget that night. I was seventeen; supposedly asleep, but actually sitting on the garage roof. I remember I was full of some odd anxiety, all that night and couldn't sit still long enough to get a good doze going. So when the howling started in the woods nearby our little house, I nearly fell off of the roof.
My dad, he came rushing out of the he house right about the time my Uncle Saul came shuffling up the driveway holding himself as if he were afraid he'd fall apart. They spoke in loud whispers, my dad trying not to shout. I don't know what they said but- not two minutes later- Saul collapsed. The whispering was over immediately. My dad fell beside his brother, weeping and calling his name. Mom must've turned on the porch light, 'cause all of a sudden I could see it all, the mangled, half-dressed man and lying in his own crimson fluid.
I jumped down from the roof, I guess I figured I should do something to help. Dad just about threw me into the house, asserting that if I cam out again, he'd make me sorry I was born. Anyway, some police came with an ambulance and took Uncle Saul away. there wasn't a funeral. When I asked Dad about it, he wouldn't tell me at first, but around my eighteenth birthday he just leaned over and said very plainly: Son, we got a crazy family. I just hope you never know it.
Things got real strange for me after uncle Saul died. I would have these dreams- odd or scary or both. We all thought it was just the shock of seeing someone die like he did. But it was more than that. People were weird around me, not because of what I was or anything, but they seemed snippier; Couples would break into argument, babies would throw fits. Three of my friends committed suicide just months apart form each other. All of this came together kinda hard on me, I found it harder to control my own temper at times.
College seemed like just the ticket. I figured if I could just go some place else for a while, things would cool off. They did, a little, just enough for me to pretend them away. I met my wife, dropped out when she had our first kid, and got the banker job right before the second was born.
I was twenty-two, five years older than when Saul had died and the dreams began. I thought things were going well. Thre dreams had subsided, but the anger remained. That was the greatest of my wife's complaints. I hadn't noticed it much, but my temper was growing out of control. It didnt seem to affect me much at work, when I took care to wear a mask of pleasantness, but at home I was becoming a tyrant to the kids and a savage to my wife.
I was thinking about psychiatrists one day, standing in line at the bank I worked at, just a customer on my off time- when a gunshot rang out. Some fools decided to take a chance at my bank, to try and run off with all those people's dreams. they were telling us to get down, but I just didn't want to. I mean, I was aware of the danger, but at the time it didn't seem to matter.
What happened next is something of a blur. I don't remember the details exactly, but I remember it felt great; I was strong, I was unstoppable. There was blood and screaming and the howls of nightmare hounds. I remember glass breaking around me and running with fresh air filling my lungs.
I found myself in the skirt of a pine tree, when my senses came back to me, not too far from the bank. Cops were everywhere. I would have gone out to them, to tell them what I'd seen, but I was full of fear, not to mention naked. I waited for night, then sneaked toward home.
I had the building in my sight. The lights were on, I recall, and someone was on the balcony, scanning the streets. Before I went another block, a squad car rolled up beside me. I couldn't hide, and I didn't think to run. The vinyl seats were cold against my bare skin, but at least he didn't cuff me. The cop told me I was under suspicion, not technically a suspect yet, but wanted for questioning nonetheless. I asked him what had happened, as I was still too muddled to really put it all together.
Robbery, he said, at least an attempt. Seems we had a vigilante or something on the scene. Damn place was a bloodbath. They're still counting pieces, trying to figure out how many actually died.
We rode on in silence. All the while I noticed the city thinning, then turning into interstate loneliness. A rotting feeling grew in my gut. Still I tried to be diplomatic. I asked him where we were going.
He stopped the car on some forsaken shoulder of the Interstate. There was nothing for miles but trees and roadkill and gravel. the officer dragged me out of the car and pushed me toward the trees. I can't say to this day what the man was thinking or what fell spirit may have taken his flesh. The feeling in my gut was making me tremble. I stopped moving, stopped giving into his shoves.
He made an angry sound, then screamed. Monstrous creatures charged though the trees at us. I fell to my knees, scared out of my mind. I didn't open my eyes until the sounds stopped and the rotting feeling passed.
There were two women and a man staring at me: One angry, one blank, and the man was curious. The angry one snorted and called me a wuss. The Blank one assured the first that I was a stray of some sort, and the Curious man took me by the arm and hurried them along.
They wouldn't hear my pleas or listen to my story. The didn't even give me their names. When I protested, the angry one threatened to knock me out and drag me along.
It was a long hike that night, we didn't rest until dawn. the women slept first while the Curious man kept watch and tried to explain, in the simplest non-specific terms, what was happening to me. When he slept, the Blank woman took his place, but she was in no way shy about it. Werewolf were her exact words among a slew of titles and terms I had never heard of.
You can imagine by the time the third watch came, I was pretty confused. And when the Angry one laid into me about my weakness, it added fear to the mix. She poked at me and insulted me until it happened again- I transformed. This time there was no blood spilled or screaming. The woman held me down until it was over then gave me her name with a smile: Ella 'sees-both-halves'.
I bolted the minute she let go of me, heading any direction I could go. The trio tracked me for a week. Though I'm sure they could have overrun me at any point, they kept their distance. I eventually lost them in an unfamiliar town, found some clothes, and beffed up enough money to eat and call my wife.
I didn't get too far into the conversation before Ella carried out her threat, but at least I got to tell my wife I loved her. When I came- to, i was being dragged over grass toward an old mill. Dozens of men and women were gathered about, talking and eating. If they noticed me, they didn't care.
The lodge, as I came to know it, was a gathering place for a few local tribes of werewolves. By then I was pretty convinced that I wasn't dreaming. They welcomed me rather passively, inviting me to stay a while and hear some things I ought to hear. After that, they said, I could bolt all I wanted and no one would follow me. However, they promised, if I ever were the cause of a nother scened like that at the bank, they would come for me; Only it would not be a scouting party that I would meet, but a warband.
I listened to their histories, their tales and their myths. I saw them change easily and gracefully between forms. I watched their rituals and dances and offerings to their totems.
But I could not forget the screams or the taste of first-blood; I could not forget how much I enjoyed it. What was I, what am I, that such things could give me pleasure? I could not dream of holding my children in my claws or tasting my wife through fangs. The curious man named Casey urged me to stay, arguing that nothing could make me human, for I never was one.
After all the words were said, I went back to the city, but I never came home. I begged in the streets and slept on cots, or in alleys. Several times I came close to changing forms, but fled before it happened.
Casey came to me on occasion, urging me to open my eyes and see all the sides of the issue. In the end he convinced me that I would only be a monster until I learned to control my instincts and impulses. He convinced me that a man separates himself from beast only by his will to do so. And he said, I could never do any of that until I knew the difference.
I couldn't deny her truths, but I couldn't go back either. It would be too much at once for this simple city boy. If I had to understand, then I would have to start small, work my way up to the real deal. I decided that I had lived like a beast in man's flesh too long, that to understand the wolf-man, I had to understand the wolf.
A year I've lived like an animal, working my eay through the rigors of pack life. It hasn't been easy, but over time, I've grown to accept some of what I am. I am a force of nature, like the wolf, but I can protect the herd as well as take from it what I need.
So when the invitation came to join a real pack of kin, I couldn't resist. I am not ready yet to face the beast inside me, but perhaps i can throw it at the real monsters and at least give it a good purpose.
Besides, it would feel good to be back on my own two feet again, you know?
