Character Sheet: Bites-at-Leeches Appearance Prelude Journal Entries:
Name: Bites-at-Leeches Player: Nigel Bennington Status: N.P.C. (Player Flaked) Breed: Lupus Auspice: Ahroun Tribe: Red Talon Pack Name: Pack Totem: Concept: Vampire Hunter ATTRIBUTES: Physical: Strength-3, Dexterity-3, Stamina-3 Social: Charisma-1, Manipulation-4, Appearance-1 Mental: Perception-3, Intelligence-2, Wits-3 ABILITIES Talents: Alertness-3, Brawl-5, Dodge-5, Intimidation-1, Primal-Urge-3 Skills: Animal Ken-3, Melee-2, Stealth-2, Survival-2 Knowledge: Investigation-2, Occult (Sp. Vampires)-5 ADVANTAGES: Background: Fetish-1, Mentor-2, Past Life-2 Gifts: Heightened Senses, Razor Claws, Scent of Running Water RITES: None RENOWN RANK 1 Glory-2/4 Honor-2/2 Wisdom-0/1` Rage-8 Gnosis-5 Willpower-3 Appearance: Bites-at-Leeches, when in wolf form is a lean, silver-haired wolf, sleek and powerful. When in human form, he is a dark, almost swarthy latin type, with deep purple eyes, so dark as to be almost black. He normally dresses simply in moccasins, suede waistcoat and buckskin trousers. These clothes have been spirit-bound to him as a gift from his mentor, Martin. Prelude: The scent of the stag was strong, and following it was no problem, a large buck, alone. This would be the one, this would be the kill to confirm he was no child anymore. But there was another scent on the trail, no several other scents, the scents of the two-legs, but stronger and different, not like any two-legs scent he had smelt before. No matter, two-legs were to be avoided, this his parents had taught him, they fought, not with tooth and claw, but with sticks that brought thunder and fire and killed at great distances, "Ignore the strange scents", he thought, "follow the stag." The stag was large, young and healthy, the wolf approached it from downwind, leaping in the last seconds before the stag spotted him, tearing out the beast's throat with his powerful jaws. The stag died, never even knowing it had been hunted. The wolf grabbed it's tail and began the long haul back to his pack. As he approached the pack, he began to realise that something was wrong, he could smell the scent he had spotted earlier, hear the cries of two-legs in pain, and the howls of dying wolves. Dropping his kill he hastened forwards, to help his pack, his family. As he broke into the clearing he saw a number of two-legs, fighting his pack, some, moving almost faster than he could see, striking at pack members with sharpened sticks, that glinted in the moon-light, some sending flames from their hands to burn the pelts of the attacking pack, and worst of all, some who rose from the ground, but seconds after a pack member tore out their throat, seemingly unharmed to continue the fight. Only one of the two-legs spotted him, this one stood apart from the rest, eyes glowing like a wolf's eyes in the moonlight. This one sped towards him, changing as it moved, adopting the shape of a wolf. The wolf was confused, scared, unsure of what was happening. "Come little one", growled the once-two-legs, "it is you my colleagues seek, and whilst there are too many of them for me to save your pack, I can at least spirit you away from them." Tail between his legs, the wolf followed. Years passed, and in the company of the strange two-legs, the wolf learned that the creatures who had attacked his pack were called Kindred, or vampires, and that the two-legs with the wolf form, who called herself Caroline, was one of these creatures, but different. She taught him the ways of the Kindred, that he might one day seek vengeance for his pack, she taught him of the Gangrel, who had more respect for the wild creatures than most of their kind, and she taught him of the wyrm, the spirit creature responsible for the kindred's existence. One day, Caroline turned to him and said, "The time grows near little one, when I must ask a favour of you to repay me for your life and knowledge, the beast grows ever stronger within me, and the time approaches when I will no longer be able to control it. Before that time, you must kill me, ensure that I will never prey on innocent blood. I have arranged for others of your kind to come to this place tonight. No not wolves, for you are in truth no wolf, but are Garou, and it is the place of your people to teach you of the Garou, not mine. But before you leave with them tonight, I would ask you to end my cursed existence." Applause sounded from the entrance to the cave, turning, the wolf saw another two-legs at the cave mouth, slowly clapping his hands. "A pretty speech leech, but will the cub have the courage to aid you? Rest assured, however, if he does not I will." "Hello Martin," said Caroline, "I always knew I'd be able to rely on you for that, whether I wanted you to or not, but if it's all the same to you, I'd rather it was done by someone I care for." "I too would rather the cub did it, for I can think of no other way for him to begin to wash of the taint he has acquired from living with you, all these years, instead of with the people where he belonged. You may have rescued the boy's life, but you have severely limited his education." "And how will you begin to wash of the taint of our association Martin? It's been around much longer than the boy's" "Ours has been an association of expedience Caroline, you had the knowledge I needed to continue my fight for Gaia, but never aspire to friendship, you were ever a leech, ever doomed to further the cause of the wyrm, despite what I acknowledge to be strong efforts not to." "Well Martin, in this child I present my greatest,gift to Gaia, for I have educated him thoroughly in the ways of my kind, now I charge you to educate him in the ways of yours, and little one, the time has come for you to do this thing for me, I have taught you what the worst of my kind are like, and now that beast grows rapidly within me, it can wait no longer, discharge your debt." "A tip cub," said Martin, "scratch your claws on the floor, before you leap, they'll rip out the leeches throat that much more effectively." With a brief glare at the man in the cave mouth, the wolf leapt towards the woman who was his friend, and as he did so he felt something change within him, he shifted, changing form, standing on two legs, but much taller than a man, he leaned forward and ripped out the woman's throat. As she fell to the floor, a smile formed on her lips, and he saw her mouth the words "Thank you, my little one" Once again, applause sounded from the cave mouth, "Well, I see you have mastered Crinos form already. You have the courage to do what has to be done, even when it does not appeal to you; and the honour to repay a debt, even one you had no choice in making. A beginning. Your attack method is a little different to say the least, and that will earn you your name, Bites-at-Leeches." Thursday, June 1st, 1995 7:20 a.m. How stark and strong the morning sun seemed, as the wispy cold fog retreated before it, bowing to the summer lord of heat and dryness. Down in the lowlands, the sea-born fog still clung to its vassal lands, but given the strength of this day's sunlight, the lack of clouds and wind, Bites-At-Leeches did not doubt that even the two legs of Santa Cruz would not but feel the relentless burn of the summer lord upon their backs. Bites-At-Leeches lowered his nose, smelling the strange ground of Santa Cruz. The richness of the soil struck him. It was rich, not in a sense of fertility, though the fertile blessings of Gaia were strong here, but rather rich in power. Bites-At-Leeches had heard that there were many cairns in the Santa Cruz mountains, and that most if not all had been laid claim to, mostly by the garou, the rightful sons and daughter of these gifts of Gaia. There were Magi usurpers though and Bites-At-Leeches would need to be careful not to wander into their rituals, not alone. The strength of one lone garou would not be enough to overcome these sons and daughters of the Weaver. A small brook, not yet burned dry, trickled in its course, eager to join with its sisters to mingle waters and make the river's journey to the sea. Bites-At-Leeches bent down and drank of its waters, wetting his pads in its mud. Overhead, scrub jays protested loudly to his presence but watched him closely also, curious about what type of creature he was. Though humans' dogs made their appearance, the only wolves who came this way were garou, and they were growing fewer and fewer as time went along, victims to the war on the Summit. Bites-At-Leeches followed the course of the brook until, as it grew, it came unto a strange land of sunken trees, where rising waters had submerged young trees, drowning them until only their tops could be seen above the water. Insects buzzed loudly in this swampy area, and Bites-At-Leeches found the ground unsteady as he progressed, his foot often slipping through what seemed earth and grass into water. Making his way past this strange area, he came upon a man-made lake. He did not see the dam at the far end yet, but he knew it was there. Two-legs in boats travelled its surface, casting their weaver lines for the fish beneath the waters. The glide of on osprey told Bites-At-Leeches that Gaia still reigned here, despite the hand of man. The osprey dove into the morning cool water as Bites-At-Leeches observed and flew away, a struggling trout held in its talons while the lines of the men below it went empty. Another day in the mountains was well under way. Thursday, June 1st 1:04 p.m. Bites-At-Leeches had espied the redwood glade from far off and had entered its stillness, seeking to find a cool rest from the summer lord who burned high in the blue cloudless sky. Banished, a bank of fog waited offshore for the departure of the sun when it could once again claim these lands in their cool embrace. Deep and filled with musty darkness, this wood of giant trees hid Bites-At-Leeches as he entered, taking all trace of his existence from the world. Finding a place in the feathered dry leaf droppings from the tree, Bites-At-Leeches curled his body next to a moss covered burl and went to sleep. Thursday, June 1st 4:31 p.m. Bites-At-Leeches heard the scream as if in a dream. Awakening to expect a battle, the fur along his back erect and tense, he found nothing but dead still air, stifled by heat. He heard the cackle of a scrub jay nearby, but nothing else. Still, sensing something, he ventured out into the heat, sensing somewhere, if only from his dreams, the scent of blood and battle. At first he heard nothing but a very unreal stillness, as if all the world were hushed in anticipation. Then, like a distant mumble, Bites-At-Leeches heard the growing noise of combat as its echoes were muted by the thickness of the surrounding forest. Bites-At-Leeches ran faster, intent upon witnessing whatever was taking place. As the ground began to descend, and the redwoods give way to a stand of broad oaks, Bites-At-Leeches, his feet crunching the dry leaves of the glade, rushed forward. Before him, three garou in Crinos fought a creature that Bites-At-Leeches had never even heard of before. Like some walking nightmare, the creature walked on fours, legs clawed like those of a huge cat, while a thick maned head supported a lupine jaw filled with rows of jagged glassy teeth, which even now snapped upon the arm of one of the garou. This garou was brought down by the strength of the monster while from behind, a segmented tail bearing a stinger whipped out to stab the downed garou in the chest. The other garou, also wounded, leapt back upon the monster, slashing through its back until the thing screamed with agony, releasing the other garou. Not content with this, the other garou ripped away at the monsters insides until it began to pull bits of lung and liver out with each slash. Born of the toughness of wyrmbane, the thing did not die but sent its scorpion tail whipping over its back. It would have stabbed the other garou had not Bites-At-Leeches, running like the wind, intervened by grabbing the tail below the stinger. Biting hard, Bites-At-Leeches crunched down on the tail, breaking the outer shell and feeling the sweet juice of its milky insides bleed into his mouth. Shaking his head, he pulled the stinger off. The other garou, though noting Bites-At-Leeches's arrival, did not stop its disembowelment, while the other garou, seeming weak and feeble, pulled the creatures head down with one clawed arm and clamped its jaws on its throat. With a rending cry that seemed to shake the trees, the creature shuddered once more in agony, and then collapsed its giant weight, sagging onto the ground, and pinning the first garou underneath. As if in a dream, the image melted away. Instead of the sweet bile he had thought he tasted, Bites-At-Leeches felt his tongue lolling around the taste of human blood. Looking down, he could see the horribly mutilated body of a dead human, whose organs and intestines had been pulled out by one garou, while her throat had been crushed by another garou, whose dead jaws still lay locked onto her. The second garou ignored Bites-At-Leeches and turned to her fallen companion, who also was transforming in death, back to her breed. Naked, the dead woman's human jaws slipped away from the other dead woman and the garou's head lolled back, her bloody bronze hair matted with dirt and sweat. Only the purple welt on her chest from the stinger gave truth to the images that only a moment before, Bites-At-Leeches had witnessed. Looking down at the stinger he had torn loose, he saw that it had vanished. Also turning to a human woman, the other garou, wearing fetish clothes, cradled her dead companion's head in her lap. Arching her head to the unseen sky, she howled, not in a human's, but in a wolf's keen howl, a haunting dirge that thrilled Bites-At-Leeches to hear it. Turning to Bites-At-Leeches, this garou growled at him in wolfspeech, her mouth able to form the sounds. "I thank you for your aid, brother. You have saved my life and your arrival was a gift of Gaia in its speed. I would though" She did not finish but looked down at her dead companion. Thursday, June 1st 10:57 p.m. Bites-At-Leeches had helped the garou carry her dead companion and the head of the dead mage back to her sept in Big Basin Park. On the way, Bites-At-Leeches learned that her name was Om-ho-ee and that she was a Uktena Ahroun of the Three Waters Sept. The dead garou had been Anne Sweetwater, a Fianna Galliard of the same sept. Both had been on patrol, and had happened on one of the magi who had devastated the Sept of Green Hills. That sept had been centered around Fall Creek Park, but had been so badly hit by roving magi hungry for tass, that it had virtually ceased to exist. Omhoee and Anne were trying to find survivors of the sept when they found the mage instead. She, in turn, had transformed herself into a manticore when attacked and though defeated and killed, she had stung Omhoee's friend, Anne, to death in the process. Together, Omhoee and Bites-At-Leeches carried the dead warriour back for her dirge and Rite of the Fallen, while Omhoee hoped that the chief Ritemaster of the Sept might be able to use the mage's head to learn something of her order. Having gotten back to the bawn of the sept, Bites-At-Leeches was told to wait outside while Omhoee made her introductions. Several garou ventured out to sniff at him and scope him out. A Fianna Ragabash named Siobhan Singwind and a Shadowlord Ragabash named Nathan Kills-in-the-Morning both came out to escort him into the bawn. There, below towering ancient giant redwoods, he was fed and tended to by the two Ragabash, who jokingly tried to entertain him and provide to his needs. The fog had long since returned and its damp cold clung around him. The Ragabash transformed to lupus and lay their bodies next to his to give him warmth. Though kindly intended, their attentions proved draining and Bites-At-Leeches soon drifted off into sleep. As if sensing his fatigue, the Ragabash grew quiet, whispering to themselves about the identity of the strange Red Talons who had appeared amongst them. Friday, June 2nd, 1995 4:17 a.m. Bites-At-Leeches, having finished his song of praise for Anne, the garou he had never met, left the impressive assembly of garou whose circles still sang songs for the beloved Galliard, sister, daughter, mother now sundered. Though he had helped Om-ho-ee, and though he was obviously welcome to stay, Bites-At-Leeches still felt restless. Sniffing the wind, he knew the crystalline lights of the city of man lay unseen below him, miles past the mountain ridges, towards the coast. It was there that his song beckoned him. It was there that those like the ones who had destroyed his pack dwelt. And it was there that he would seek battle, in the alien land of men. Bryon Dancingfire, a Fianna theurge had seen Bites-At-Leeches leave the assembly and had followed him, curious about the Red Talon. Turning into lupus form to honour the stranger, Bryon loped alongside Bites-At-Leeches and nuzzled a greeting. "You seem restless, my brother," Dancingfire growled. Bites-At-Leeches nodded. "I feel my place is there," he nodded towards the direction of Santa Cruz. "In the place of men?" Dancingfire seemed surprised. "You must be one of those new Red Talons who seek to learn more of men by living amongst them. I would there were more of you. It is all we can do these days, to keep your brothers of the Angry Earth from instigating a new Impergium amongst the menfolk. In that sense, the incursions of the Weaverscum from the great Concrete Valley beyond seem almost providential." "That seems an odd thing for a garou to say," Bites-At-Leeches noted. Dancingfire panted, drinking in the ocean taste of the fog. "Well, I do not welcome the war that we fight, to be sure. But like all things, mixed blessings come also. At least those of the Angry Earth turn their Rage to those more deserving of it. There are many of the humanfolk who, if they knew of our trials, would sympathize and aid us. Alas though, there are many more who would hunt us down for slaughter." "I'd like to see them try," Bites-At-Leeches growled. "I would not!" Dancingfire retorted. Pausing to look at Bites-At-Leeches, he turned away again to stare also beyond the hills. "Are you not sure that you wouldn't care to join us here? There is desperate need for Ahroun amongst us. Many are needed to carry on the fight. With the loss of the Green Hills Sept, there is a great hole in our defences. There will be much work to be done to repair it. And as for the undead wyrmsons you seek, they war so much among themselves that they are no concern to us here. Rather, their kin from the Concrete Valley seeking to battle them give us more trouble, trying to get at them through our lands." Bites-At-Leeches looked back at the Fianna, his eyes wide with surprise. "How did you know of my quest against the vampires?" he asked. Dancingfire looked back. "I am a seer, my brother. Your quest is well written on you for those who can see. But remember my words here, Bites-At-Leeches. Just as there are strange blessings to be found, even in the darkness of this hour of our struggle to survive, their are also those amongst your intended prey who will not seem so born of darkness as you think. In truth, they are a tragic lot. By seeking to not loose what they cherished most, they have sundered themselves from it forever." "Are you saying that I should not seek this course?" Bites-At-Leeches asked. "What would you do if you met a vampire now?" Dancingfire turned and said matter of factly, "I would tear it to pieces and scatters its dead flesh to the sun. But I would not do it with hatred, and that's what separates us," he told Bites-At-Leeches. "Do not let hatred consume you," Dancingfire warned. "It is the path that our once brothers, the White Howlers walked. And that fire consumed them. Do not let it do so to you, my brother." Dancingfire turned to leave. "Go well, my brother," Bites-At-Leeches called after him. "Perhaps we shall meet again." "I hope we do," Bryon Dancingfire called back, even while shifting into hispo. "And let that meeting be a good one." As he walked on, he turned again. "Don't forget your name," he called out. "My name?" Bites-At-Leeches yowled back. "I will not forget my name." "No," Bryon corrected him, "Your mannish name. Don't forget to choose one, even as I have done. Remember, even though you are lupus, you have a human side. You must give it a name and use it amongst the humans. If you call yourself Bites-At-Leeches amongst them, you will bring ridicule and trouble upon yourself." Bites-At-Leeches did not think the ridicule of humans could hurt him, but still, he took Dancingfire's words to heart. Yipping once in farewell, he turned and loped off down the hill, heading for the unseen city. Behind him, several yips of farewell sounded off from those of the Three Waters. (receive in temporary points 4 glory, 2 honour, and 1 wisdom for helping the Sept of Three Waters and for attending the Death rite for Anne Sweetwater)
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