and I didn’t play a single part in this I swear
and I didn’t play a single part in this I swear
and I didn’t play a single part in this I swear
and I didn’t play a single part in this I swear
I’m not all fucking right with this
- Deaf Havana, ‘This Afternoon Was A Total Disaster’

The pups wandered down the newly paved road for hours. Kurt Bouchard III stepped into the Umbra and noticed the road looked like a giant claw had furrowed it in the Earth. The trees by the road were shriveled and black. He walked into the woods to communicate with a tree spirit but…. it was a tree and not very helpful.

After hours of travel, they came upon the small town of Kroder’s Pass. It was shrouded in an unnaturally thick mist that hid most of the buildings. Being hungry, they made their way toward the glowing sign of Flo’s Diner. Strangely enough, there were no cars parked outside.

Inside, there was a David Lynch-ian cast of characters; the titular Flo in her pink waitress outfit, a wizened old local man at the counter, a group of three biker-looking Truckers (or trucker-looking Bikers) in the back corner, and some rednecks across the dining room. The pups immediately split up and caused havok.

Peter and Kurt got burgers “with extra spit” from a very inhospitable Flo. Kurt also managed to chase off the old man, who turn and ran as soon as he mentioned the Black Wolf Ridge Mine.

Meanwhile, Kelly broke into the General Store and was shot repeatedly by the old woman who owned it. Hearing the gun shots, the rest of the pups came running (along with the rednecks). Mass chaos ensued. When the dust settled, the humans were either dead or in extreme Delirium. Disgruntled, the pups left the town and continued south.

The pale moon casts its evil eye
Over the man in the forest
He calls wolves with the soundless bagpipe
Utters the magic words of summoning
And when the snowstorm starts its icy dance
Wolves come – red burns their eyes
- Skyforger, ‘Werewolves’

As a pair of guards investigated into the forest, the pups decided it was a good idea to hide deeper in the trees. Peter turned invisible and ran while the rest of the pups made for a thicket of trees. Lomnocht “Lom” Hemming took a big breath of Wyrm and took off running, alerting the pair of Fomori guards. The opened fire on the pups, radioing for backup as if the sound of gunfire wasn’t enough of an alarm. Their cover blown, the pups attacked the Wyrm-tainted guards with brutal efficiency.

Before the last bit of blood could be spilled, several Banes began pushing through from the Umbra. The banes looked like deformed children, with long limbs and needle-like fingers. They had green, glowing eyes that bulged out of their faces and dripped ichor down their cheeks.

To get away from them, the pups stepped sideways into the Umbra… and saw an advancing army of Banes coming from the strip mine, crossing the ruined landscape with remarkable efficiency. They also saw a black, rotting dragon-like creature encased in a thick cloud of smoke and chained into the mine. It roared horribly, thrashing to get free.

The pups stepped back into the real world right as the Banes crossed back to the Umbra and ran in the opposite direction of the mine. They caught up with Peter, who had found a beautiful glen, free of snow and filled with delicious rabbits. Another trip into the Umbra revealed a plethora of Wyld spirits. A Stag gave them a little information and a rather large knife after trading a few blows with Lom. He told them to look for the dark-haired wolf woman for she was the one trying to free the Narthulus from the mine.

They also released Obadiah “Obe” Johnson by pouring him out onto the snow. Some Harmony Flute-ing and a talk later, he agreed to help them. The Stag informed the pups that there are another group of pups here not long before them that had uncovered the mine. The evil wolf woman and her kin conspired to kill those pups – potentially the very murder this pack had been framed for. Obe agreed to talk to his kin and try to clear their name but had no luck reaching them through the storm.

Trekking back to the mine yielded yet more info. Kelly Waffle managed to get reception long enough to find out some key data on the mine. It had recently been acquired by a Pentex shell corporation, the workers fired, the manager gone missing, and a nice woman named Azeara now running the show. Figuring the minions of the Wyrm were clearly at play, the pups bickered over how best to proceed. Will they risk the wrath of the Sept of the Winter Wolf in the hopes that the army of werewolves will band together for the greater good? Will they continue to poke around the mine and surrounding town for clues? Will they just say “fuck this noise” and go home? Only time will tell.

My bones depart from me.
I open my hands into a pool of water.
Creating the sound of waves, animals, and creatures.
- iwrestledabearonce, ’I’m Cold and There are Wolves After Me’

A man’s voice cried out to the pups, “The other two aren’t bane-ridden.” Not knowing exactly what to do, Peter and Jeff Hines made their way towards the voice while Lomnocht “Lom” Hemming, Kurt Bouchard III, and Guillame tried to restrain and interogate the remaining mesmerized wolves. Unfortunately for them, touch broke the spell of Kelly Waffle‘s Harmony Flute and both Garou went on the attack. They managed to kill one and tie up the other, dumping him into Kelly’s magic sack.

The man with the gun introduced himself as Bill. He offered the pups shelter at his nearby home. Clearly, he was not a normal man for he recognized the pups almost nonchalantly – even an invisible Peter. He led them back to his cabin in the snow, offering them food and information. Having lived on the edge of Wendigo territory for many years, he had seen pups come and go. He recounted a pack of young pups that had recently traversed through his territory, heading north, but he could not say what became of them.

He spoke at length about the War of Rage and the Garou’s hand in it – giving weight to the pack’s feeling that he was likely some other type of shifter. Though never answering directly, he did laugh about the bear skin rug on his floor.

He also told the pups of an ancient legend about the mountain to the North. In his words:

“Many, many years ago, before the white man came to this part of the world, there was a great tribe of the wind-walkers who dominated this land and ran it like an ice-ridden empire. The mightiest among them was a shaman called She-Cries-Ice, who fought a terrible evil spirit. This evil spirit was called the Narlthus and could not be bound into anything of this world. But She-Cries-Ice whispered to the sky and called down a stone from another world. The great shaman bound the Narlthus into this sky-stone and it struck the mountain with great force thus burying the Narlthus completely. Legend has it that the mountain lies but a little north of here and that one day the Narlthus will rise again to defeat the children of She-Cries-Ice.”

With such a comforting bedtime tale, the pups hunkered down to sleep.

DAY THREE

The well-rested pups (outfitted with some food, dedicated [and Dedicated] winter clothing, and a cell phone with spotty reception) set their paws north. After a few hours travel, they came upon Black Wolf Ridge Mine. Several hastily constructed buildings clustered around the lip of a hug pit. They immediately noticed the guard towers – strange for a remote mine.

Peter used Phoebe’s Veil to sneak among the buildings for a few minutes at a time while the rest of the pack hunkered down in the treeline. He overheard some of the miners complaining about the never-ending work hours now that ‘Grend Enterprises’ had taken over. They also mutter ominously about the former site manager disappearing before being shunted back to work by a pair of heavily armed guards. Subsequent investigations yielded information on building position and strength but little in the way of what the hell was going on.

In the midst of this investigating, a team of guards rolled up in a jeep, dropping off pairs to explore the area. One pair is headed right into the semi-hidden pups…

Our love for war will never die.
In this battlefield,
There’s only one way,
To end our lives,
This silver bullet around my neck.
Half breeds,
Crawling the streets,
Dripping flesh from their teeth.
- Modern Day Escape, ‘One Way To Kill A Werewolf’

As Kelly Waffle was laying the bear to rest in the cold earth, a hungry Lomnocht “Lom” Hemming trekked out into the snow to try and find some food to fill his rumbling belly. He spotted some deer tracks and also some odd little boot prints. He returned to tell his companions what he had found and realized Jeff Hines and Guillame had disappeared. He roused Kelly to try and find them. To his great dismay, he discovered she was not really a woodsman (woodswoman? woodswolf?). She proceeded to cartwheel through the forest and crash into trees, effectively destroying any trail they might follow. Nonplussed by their companions disappearance, they set off after the deer tracks Lom had found earlier.

The pair easily caught up to the creature nearby what seemed to be a strange lamppost in the forest. Lom happily tore into the helpless doe, tossing the head across the clearing and horrifying the more gentle-tempered Kelly. As she mourned the deer, she caught sight of a small man out of the corner of her eye. The nature of the]is creature was revealed a few moments later.

Upon approaching the lamppost, first Lom then Kelly were lassoed by a pair of ugly Fae with red hats, bloodstained fangs and big red noses. Despite the Fae’s frantic attempts to reel them in and stuff them in their sack, the pups easily broke free of their cords. Lom, with his usual restraint, hooked a claw through his would-be captor’s nose and tore the face off the Redcap. It’s brother, seeing this, squeaked ‘I give up’ and winked out of existence with a pop and a faint smell of day-old beer.

Kelly reached into the sack. Her arms flailed around in an impossible vast empty space within the bag. She upended it and shook out it’s contents: a nearly complete collection of the John Norman “Gor” novels; a half-empty bottle of Listerine; hundreds of empty beer cans; a Sony Walkman CD player with no batteries; a CD (‘Flood’ by They Might Be Giants); and a button which says “My karma ran over my dogma”. Most interestingly are Jeff, Guillame, and two Crinos-form werewolves dressed in pink nightgowns, sleep masks, and matching caps.

As Jeff and Guillame struggled out from the pile of empty beer cans, Peter took off running into the woods. Lom chased down the hysterical teenager, who was convinced that he was having an awesome dream (and that he had laser eyes). Kurt Bouchard III was only marginally easier to convince of his true nature, though all listened as the pups told their new additions about how they had come to be out in the snow.

After Kelly’s failed attempt at making a shelter out of the magic sack and the lamppost, the pack agreed to search for shelter. An unnatural storm set in, the wind howling down much like the bitter howls of the Wendigo for their lost pups. Though the visibility dropped to nearly nothing, the pups managed to locate the Bane Bear’s cave after a few hours of trekking.

That was the good news.

The bad news was the angry pack of werewolves laying in wait for them there. The tattered-ear Garou from the sept howled in dark triumph as the pack approached, lunging at Lom with a cry of “I am Icedagger!” Lom’s own battlecry, “And I’m Irish!”, rang out as the two traded vicious blows, aided by Guillame. Kelly used her harmony flute to great effect, mesmerizing two of the four remaining Garou. Jeff used his Kung Fu training to kick first the bottom then the top his attacker’s muzzle off. Peter hid under Pheobe’s Veil, invisibly aiding Kurt in eviscerating (and de-tailing) their attacker. To the horror of the pups, the rampaging Weres were reduced to bloody piles of gore but regenerated in a rush of Rage. Flesh filled their wounds so fast it seemed to explode from them. The claws of the pups didn’t waiver, tearing into their newly healed opponents. Guillame and Lom managed to permanently down Icedagger. Not even his illicitly-taken totem, Grandfather Thunder, could save him. But the last Garou wouldn’t go down. As the pups hunkered down to continue the battle, the last attacker’s head exploded as the sound of a rifle shot rang out. The lifeless body of the Garou dropped to the ground, evidence that the bullet may well be silver. But who fired it and why? And are the pups the next targets?

Kelly’s Journal – Entry 01:
I have been in this disused warehouse for a week now.  Everyone looks so restless.  I will admit, there isn’t much to do around here – but i tethered my phone to my laptop, so I have internet and things are ok.  It’s kinda like it was back in college.  Living off Ramen noodles, talking to strangers and forming a bond of vague acquaintance have always been things I’ve been fairly good at.  I like the big guy, he always had a smile and was really nice to me – unlike the older lady that seemed to think I was her lazy granddaughter that never did anything with her life…  I spent most of the time contemplating my place in the world… and surfing reedit… and playing video games.

At some point, we were all asked to participate in some sort of ritual gathering. The warehouse we were staying in seemed a bit insecure, so I stowed all my stuff in a subway locker on the way to the meeting. Eventually, we reached a park and soon after we entered it, we noticed that we were being followed. It looked like a chain gang from a monster movie. Giant wolf-beasts, men with guns and they were all looking at us like dinner. Two of us, Guillame and Jeff, took off running. I decided to attempt to calm everyone’s emotions and tried out my new Harmony Flute (which Simon gave and ‘tried’ to teach me to use) but it didn’t work. I think I need more practice with it. My new friend Lom got between me and the advancing army of hooligans to try to calm them with an offering of alcohol. That didn’t work so well either. We decided the best course of action was to get the hell out of there. Somehow – i’m still unclear on how it happens, I once again ‘shifted’ into a wolf. This still freaks me the fuck out, but I’m slowly starting to appreciate its value.

We get to the meeting place we were told about hoping someone there would help us, but all we found was this giant portal thingy. Everyone ran into it, so I was like ‘what the hell – it’s better than being eaten’. What I saw next was just – weird. It was like a long bridge in the middle of a spinning tunnel of mist and what looked like ghosts. It was super-trippy. We finally pop out the other end of this portal only to find ourselves in six-inches of snow. What. The. Fuck.

After a few minutes, a big Native American-looking dude shows up with coats and stuff for us. After all the shit that’s happened to me in the past two weeks I’ve kinda just learned to roll with it. I take one, thank him and listened as he spoke to us. He said he was the warden of something or other and his people would help us with our rite of passage thingy. I have no idea what any of this stuff is. He led us to a cave to sleep for the night. Now, I’m a city girl, so all this is just freaking me the fuck out. I stay quiet and calm though – thats how to deal with a situation – calmly.

I wake up a few hours into my not-so-comfy sleep (I swear I will NEVER take a bed for granted again) to the sound of of wolves howling. It was a terrible sound. I could feel it down to my bones. I don’t know why, but I felt horrible – like someone I loved just died or something. We were then led to a gathering place were no one seemed to like us. Actually, they seemed to want to kill us. THey blamed us for killing their family members and told us to basically get the fuck out or we kill you.

I was pissed. Convincing me to come learn something new about myself in a disused warehouse? Ok. Learning I can change into a wolf? Difficult, but still, ok. Sleeping in a cave, in the middle of winter after going through a supernatural portal after been chased by a monster mob… Super-fucking-hard, but I’ll deal with it. Being accused of a murder committed by people I don’t even know. No. I draw the fucking line. I look around and see this dude who does not seem to agree with the rest of the pack and I lay into him like he just stole a meal from a homeless child. He then confesses that we ‘may’ have been framed. Oh. Surprise, surprise. He said we would need to find proof and bring it back in order to clear our name. What the fuck? Am I living in the movie “The Fugitive” all the sudden? This is bullshit. We agree to leave, because, you know, even though I’m innocent, there aren’t any good lawyers here and I don’t want to die tonight.

We get as far from the Sept of the Bitter Bitches Club as we can and are forced to make shelter for the rest of the night. Luckily, I watch a lot of nature programming, so I know how to build a basic shelter. Never thought I would actually be using this knowledge. Thank you PBS and basic cable!

We wake up a few hours later. We were cold, hungry and lost. Things were not looking good. We soon spotted a bear and the others instantly wanted to kill and eat it. I’m hungry, but I’m still not at the point where I would kill to eat something. I respect all life – even douchebag werewolves that accuse us of murder, then throw us into the cold with nothing. Anyway, the others almost instantly start attacking it. I tried to knock Guillame off the poor thing. No luck there. We discovered that the bear was essentially ‘possessed’ by something called ‘the Bane’. Great. As if my day couldn’t possible get any weirder. I felt sorry for the bear, and knowing that it was already tormented and that there was no way to save it, I agree to help it reach peace by euthanizing it.

I transformed again – this time into this huge battle-wolf thingy – I have no idea how, it seems to just happen all by itself. I really need to figure out how to control this stuff. I don’t want to walk into a grocery store and transform into a wolf whenever I spot something delicious. Anyway – I attempt to sever the bears spinal cord, so he won’t feel anything, but it’s only partially successful. Lom, on the other hand, eviscerated it like he was a walking death machine. That was some seriously disturbing shit, right there. A foul stench filled the air and we all cleaned ourselves up. I dug the poor beast a grave and buried it. I hope he is an better place now.

I wonder what other fucked-up, mind-altering bullshit I’ll have to deal with today. :-P

Back to the streets, in a way. Sure, things were never great or more than okay back home, but at least I had clubs, a good group of friends, and a bit of chemical escape from time to time. Living in an abandoned train depot wasn’t so different from the slums back in Chicago. Just full of even weirder people if you can belive it. There was this crazy old white lady that ran the place, ordering everyone around with that big old cigar hanging out of her mouth. Between her and the big idiot who followed her around, it was like running away to join the circus. We couldn’t get out of there, didn’t see anything except for graffiti for almost a week.

Then we were told we had some rite to go through, some kind of initiation. They took us out of the warehouse and into Central Park. I used to think it was just some parking lot full of grass but this place was massive, and dark, and overgrown. Felt like we were out in the woods again. On our way to the meeting place the old lady disappeared and sooner than we knew it, we were alone. Lost in the middle of this massive forest. Then the howling began. A gang of werewolves and hunters rolled up on us in the park, and we ran. I had never been more scared. Must’ve been at least twenty of them and they had evil in their eyes. As we ran there was some kind of weird blue hole in the air in front of us. I had no idea what it was, but there was nowhere to go so I ran straight into it.

It led to a tunnel, some glowing tunnel that dumped us out into a snow-covered forest. Not the same forest we’d left, not Central Park, but some real outdoors. An Indian guy showed up to help us. Looked like a real feathers and tomahawk kinda guy, like out of some old movie. He welcomed us to his sept, gave us some blankets and led us to a cave where we could sleep.

When we woke up the next day there was a problem. It started when we woke up and heard some horrible howling. It was giving me the shivers. When we wandered out to see what it was, all the werewolves in this group were gathered around a huge campfire. There was some kind of meeting and everyone was upset, really upset, like in mourning. The bosses of this sept told us that old lady and her friends back in New York had killed their kids. That there was some kind of exchange for us to come here, and now the people they had sent were dead. They were pissed and looking for blood. They did us the “favor” of throwing us out into the cold to die, and one ugly bastard spit on me on our way out.

We wandered in the cold wilderness for the night before making camp by an old tree. When we woke up in the morning there was a bear rooting around nearby. We crept up on it hoping to get a meal. When we attacked, there was something weird about it. It was tougher than even a bear should be, and everyone else said it had some kind of evil spirit in it. We killed it without too much trouble. When it was dead, some visible ghost left it. If it’s this hard to get a meal out here, I don’t know how we’re gonna make it.

I was a teenage werewolf
Braces on my fangs
I was a teenage werewolf
And no one even said thanks
- The Cramps, ‘I was a teenage werewolf’

DAY ONE

Fresh from their First Changes, the pack of lost pups languished in tedium in a dank New York City warehouse. A battered radio spat out AM stations only. They had sleeping bags and pillows that smelled of garbage to cushion them on the concrete floor. Willing or not, they were stuck here. No phones, unreliable wifi, no unsupervised visits anywhere that wasn’t the main room. The bathroom had no windows. All the other windows were bricked up, except the holes in the roof. All the stairs and other rooms had guards. They fed the bored pups warm Gatorade and microwaved Kid Cuisine dinners.

This is a halfway house for Garou – or at least that was what their keepers, the Sept of the Green, said. They were waiting for another Sept to take the pups and train them. The Garou they were stuck with were mostly Bone Gnawers, who come and go at will. Their caern was a powerful one, in Central Park, ruled by Mother Larissa. Most of the Garou there were homeless wretches like their sept leader, Larissa, or big brawlers like her bodyguards Timmy and Simon Gentle. While well-meaning (in Simon’s case) or callous (in Larissa’s), none of these werewolves seemed to have the skills to guide this pack of new wolves. Lomnocht “Lom” Hemming did what he could to educate his new packmates but the guidance of a more knowledgeable Sept was in order.

Mother Larissa interrupted the pups ‘getting-to-know-yous’ rather rudely. She said they were ready to send the pups off to their new teachers and demanded they follow her. She briskly walked off, leaving a rather upset Jeff Hines in her wake. He and his new packmates followed her, in the hopes of getting some answers.

She led them into the Ramble of Central Park. Wild and overgrown thanks to her sept’s efforts, the trees soon blocked her from the view of the chatting pups. Almost as soon as they noticed they had lost sight of her, they heard a growling from behind them. 12 large Crinos-form Garou and 7 gun-toting humans stepped from the shadows. They laughed and howled, shooting a bullet between the pups and warning them that the bullets were silver. Guillame and Jeff, knowing discretion is the better part of valor, instantly turned tail and ran for the caern (about a mile distant). The rest of the Sept on the Green wolves should have been waiting there, which should offer some protection to the sorely outnumbered pups. The ever-peaceful Kelly Waffle sat down instead of fighting, blowing her Harmony Flute to try to calm the situation. The music of Gaia failed to soothe the wretched hunters, who only howled and gibbered more. Lom put himself between Kelly and the advancing pack, offering to share a pint instead of a fight. The large black Ahroun leader only laughed and commanded his fellows to attack. Thinking fast, Kelly and Lom shifted to Lupus-form (shortly followed by Guillame and Jeff) and took off running as fast as their four furry legs could carry them.

Though Lom tried to rouse his new packmates for a fight, they instead ran full-tilt for the caern, pursued by their howling attackers. The Sept of the Green wolves were noticeably absent but their caern was not abandoned. Their totem, a giant white mouse, spied the pups and opened the caern’s moon bridge. The pups seized the escape route, running in and up into the sky.

They descended (in Guillame’s case tumbled) from the Moon Bridge into calf-deep snow in the middle of the woods. A tall Native American man was there to greet them, bearing coats for those in need. Nonplussed by their entrance, he introduced himself as the Warden of the Sept of the Winter Wolf. His Sept would be performing their Rite of Passage, he said, but for now they were given a warm cave to rest in. Lom, hairless as he was, took the opportunity to get a fur pelt to wear balanced over his lupus form. Jeff stepped outside and studied the stars, concluding they were far north (probably out of the United States). He noticed a smudge of lights to the South (likely a city far away) and a smaller yet brighter glow of lights (likely from a local logging or mining operation). Upon his return, the pups bedded down for the night.

Their slumber was interrupted by an horrible howl. To those that could understand it, it was a howl of pain, loss, and grave mourning. The next howl they all understood – calling the pack. Exiting the cave, they quickly joined the assembling Sept of the Winter Wolf who were none to happy to see them. The Leaders of the Sept of the Winter Wolf addressed them, their angry Ahroun casting them out with these words: “You are no longer welcome among us. Our spirits have cried out to us in the night. Our pups are dead, murdered by your people. By all the customs of the Garou, we are no long obligated to complete your Rite. The fact that your are pups protects you, however. As much as some of us may wish to” (and here he looked at one large grey Garou with a tattered ear in particular), “we may not kill you for your Elders transgressions. You are cast out of this caern. Do not return. If you do, you will forsake any protection from the Litany.”

The pups tried to defend themselves, angrily denying that the Sept of the Green were ‘their people’. Jeff, in particular, was flabbergasted by the lack of justice displayed by the Sept. Unwisely, he pointed out true justice would mean his pack should be slain to repay the death of the Sept of the Winter Wolf pups. This set off angry yelling amongst the entire Sept. He attempted to use his Gift of Persuasion on the Ahroun leader but met only resistance. Kelly had more luck with the Winter Wolf Philodox, who told her that he thought the Sept of the Green was being framed and that if her pack could find proof of what really happened, he would try to bring it back to the sept. For the moment, however, their only option was to march out through the Gauntlet of angry Garou into the snow. The grey Garou with the tattered ear spat on Guillame but he held his head high and kept moving forward.

Wanting to put some distance between themselves and the angry werewolf Sept, the pups struck out towards the north, slogging through snow that was chest deep in some areas. After a few hours, a shivering Lom insisted they stop and make shelter to sleep out the rest of the night. With snow and branches, they managed to make something adequate and bedded down for an uncomfortable slumber.

DAY TWO

The chilly pups rose at dawn, hearing something large crashing through the trees nearby. Spying a large bear, they rejoiced at the opportunity to hunt. Shifting into battle forms, they took the bear by surprise. Though concerned that the bear was not acting particularly normally, Guillame leaped onto it’s back, getting a solid bite but failing to pierce the unusually thick skin. Jeff, too, was unable to damage it in his first bite. Kelly froze, her love of nature battling with her desire to hunt. She tried to pull Guillame off the bear, not wanting to hurt it, but couldn’t dislodge him. Jeff took the opportunity to topple it while Lom used his Gift of Sense Wyrm to uncover the truth – the bear was possessed by a Bane. The poor creature was being corrupted by the foul spirit and the pack took it upon themselves to end it’s suffering. Kelly and Jeff ripped into the back of it’s neck while Lom punched through it’s stomach and ripped out it’s innards in a movement reminiscent of Mortal Kombat. Foul smelling blood arched into the air, covering the snow in polluted gore that Lom insisted everyone clean from the fur and talons. Once clean, Kelly dug a hole to bury the poor woodland creature.

With the sun rising, the pups press on into the snow. But winter is coming…

Lomnocht “Lom” Hemming
Lom had always been an outcast. He knew he was a metis – the sterile and deformed offspring of two werewolves. But his packmaster told him he was the unlucky 1% of metis that were born human – kinfolk – never to change into other forms, stuck in his big hairless body. Still, it didn’t do to dwell on things that could not be changed. After all, there were drinks to be drunk, wenches to be wenched, and bar fights to be fought! For every person who picked on him, there were two more waiting to drink and celebrate with him. Some bullies became his life long friends.

But some bullies remained lifelong enemies. Worst was Bruce, who spat on him and called him names. Lom had a vague recollection of a run-in with Bruce when he awoke… but it was how he awoke that bothered him most. He was naked as the day he was born in the alley behind the pub. Grabbing a soggy (and rather cold) scrap of paper bag to cover his unmentionables, he ran through his village, trying to avoid the eyes of the populace with only marginal success.

While scrubbing up, his aunt (who had raised him in his parents absence) hammered on the door. She asked him what he had been doing, told him he was guilty of murder (what???), and dragged him off to confession. He had barely been given his Hail Marys before a huge arm pulled him from the confessional and his pack master dragged him to the back of the Church. There, he was told he had gone through the First Change and had – in the process – killed Bruce. Stunned and remembering none of it, Lom shook his head and insisted he was only Kinfolk. His pack master held out one arm, changing it into a large Crinos claw. He told Lom he had 10 seconds to change and block the strike or he would kill him. As he counted the seconds down, Lom felt the change overtake him.

His joy was short-lived, however. He was taken back to his home, dressed in his best clothes (aside from his now destroyed Sunday Suit) and taken before the Pack. They performed the Rite of Ostracism and turned their backs on him. However, their Pack Master decreed that all Pups are sacred to the Garou and must be trained. They opened up a Moon Bridge and sent him on it – to where, he has no idea.

Kelly Waffle
It had been a long day at the office for Kelly. The green tech whiz kid (and secret eco-terrorist hacker) hadn’t been sleeping well. Walking from her office in Wouburn to retrieve her bike, it seemed like her sleepless nights (or maybe acid flashbacks from those parties in college) were taking over. The path through the low hedge suddenly felt like a massive forest, green and wild and pure. She hurried to her bike, past trees that suddenly seemed monstrously large, and onto the bus home.

Her apartment was familiar but the large wolf sitting in her living room watching the Discovery Channel was not. Shaken, she tried to find some food for the animal and make some tea to calm her frazzled nerves. The wolf spoke, asking for tea of his own. Two sugars please and milk. He explained that he was a man – sort of – and had picked the lock to get in. Tea cup rattling in it’s saucer, Kelly drank and listened to the wolf’s story. He shifted into the form of a man in a rather elegant business suit and explained to her that they were both werewolves. He talked fast, like a stock trader from the 80s, and his explanations didn’t seem to make much sense.

Kelly, convinced she was having an acid trip, agreed to go with him to the Audubon preserve out on Cape Cod. The man’s explanations of Garou life and history fell on deaf ears during the long drive. Upon reaching the preserve, the man removed a small glass box and told Kelly he needed to bring on her first change. He released a small glass elemental, which went straight for the now panicked woman. Kelly took off running then stopped, realizing that she was now in the form of a wolf herself. She stared at her paws in amazement, biting the head off the fragile elemental when it trundled up. Before she could so much as howl in pain, her wounds knit themselves shut.

After coaching her to tun back into human form (and giving her his coat), the strange business man told Kelly he would take her to a pack in New York City that would help her understand her new life. They returned to her home to pack a few things then set off into the night.

Guillame
Guillame awoke in a dark basement somewhere in his home town of Chicago. He’d been suffering nightmares recently but this terror was real. He was covered in dark fluid. It was hard to tell to color in the dark but something primal told him it was red – blood. He didn’t seem to be injured and the dirt floor of the basement lacked tell-tale pools of red.

He slowly crept up the stairs, listening at the door but hearing naught but silence. He edged the door open and was greeted by a smear of blood. As he explored the house, he found gore in every room. A disemboweled women in the kitchen, a human-shaped pile of ash behind the television… something horrible has happened here – but what? And was that a coffin in the bedroom?

While Guillame was exploring, he overheard two men entering the house. With nothing else left to do, he hopped into the coffin (which had been comfortably outfitted with recessed lighting in the lid and had a pillow and iPad within). One of the men seemed to think the carnage was quite amusing. The other seemed concerned for the “pup”. He realized they meant him when they called him out of the coffin. They were men he knew from clubbing; not close friends but not strangers. The calmer man (Doug) explained to him that he was a werewolf, shifted shape to show him it was the truth. They couldn’t take him, they said, but they knew a pack who could help him. One plane ticket later (one pilfered vampire’s iPad the richer) and he was on his way to New York City… and who knows what else?