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Multiple Settings Brave Enough - A Werewolf: the Apocalypse Quest

012 - Disilluions
You take the green form from your Aunt Anne and consider your options. Speaking in front of crowds terrifies you and you doubt singing or playing an instrument would be any better. You check off Journalism. Out of the second list, you choose Criminal Justice. After your recent brushes with the law, you want to know how to avoid the police. You survey your other options and smile when you see Driver’s Education listed. You check off the class and wonder if you can find a job to save up for a car.

You pass the form back to your Aunt. She nods in approval of your choices. “My oldest two kids are in high school, too. You’ve already met Alex, my stepson. He’s starting school this year.” An odd choice of words. “He will be a Junior just like you.”

You nod, not trusting your voice to betray your thoughts about Alex. Your Aunt frowns at your non-reaction to this news. “You remember Regine. She’s a year older than you.” You have a vague memory of a red headed, freckled skinned girl with braces. Aunt Anne’s voice warms with pride. “She’s going to Harvard next year.”

Glasses clink as your mother cleans the kitchen. She places the pint glasses in an ancient wood paneled dishwasher. The beer bottles get rinsed and set on the counter for recycling. Aunt Anne is not numb to your mother’s hint. “I should get going.” She folds your class form in half and tucks it in the front pocket of her brightly floraled hobo handbag. “I left Regine alone with the twins. Regine and Alex will be by tomorrow at seven to walk with you to school. Would that be alright?”

Your Aunt is asking for understanding rather than agreement. “Yeah. That’s fine.” Realizing you Aunt expects more of a comment, you add. “It will be good to have some friends at my new school.”

Aunt Anne smiles. “You get the idea.” She hugs you and your mother. “If you need anything, I’m only a couple of doors down. Look for the house with the solar panels on the roof.” Your mother gives some non-committal response and your aunt leaves.

You sit in awkward silence after your aunt’s leavetaking. You fidget with a peeling section of the autumn leaf countertop. Your mother curses as she fights to open one of the moving boxes. After she gets the box open, she rests her arms on the sides. “There is something you need to know about your step-cousin Alex before you see him tomorrow. He’s a metis.”

“What’s a metis?”

“Your father didn’t explain about Garou reproduction?”

“No.” Your father talked about war and the wyrm, but thankfully not about ‘Garou reproduction’.

“Of course he didn’t.” Your mother mutters under her breath. “There are three breeds of Garou. Homids are born human, like your father. Lupus are born as wolves. Democritus - he’s the wolf staying with us - is a Lupus. Metis… Metis are complicated.” Your mother sits down at the bar next to you. “Sigrid, it’s time we had a talk.”

You’re mother has only used that phrase once before. Shit, were you that obvious about your interest in Alex? “Not another sex talk.” You groan and rest your forehead against the counter top. You just met the guy today and now everyone is freaking out. “We already had that talk!” You did not want to discuss sex with your mother.

“And now we need to have the Garou version.” Your mother folds her hands on her lap. “Sigrid, you are becoming a woman and are dealing with unfamiliar urges and instincts. I know things didn’t go well with Scott Mullins…”

“I did not want to have sex with Scott Mullins!”

“You made that quite clear to everyone.” Your mother frowns. “Sigrid, you can’t have sex with any Garou or any kinfolk who still has a Kinfetch.”

Your father explained about Toddy, your kinfetch. A kinfetch is a spirit that will find your Garou relatives after you have your first change. The kinfetch will lead them to your location. When it is certain you will not go through your change, it will abandon you.

“What?” There was so many fucking rules about sex and now there was another one. No wonder you were still a virgin. “That’s a stupid rule. Who made that up? Dad?”

“No, it’s an old rule.”

“Oh! Like how you are suppose to wait until your married before having sex.” No one ever follows that rule.

“Sigrid, this is serious! We still don’t know if you are going to be Garou or not. You can not get pregnant by another Garou.”

“This conversation again?” Your mother, who got pregnant at eighteen, is paranoid about you making the same mistake. “Mom, I’m not going to get pregnant.”

“This is more than screwing up your life, Sigrid. You could die.” This catches your attention. You grow serious as your mother explains. “The Garou have sort of a ten commandments. They call it the Litany. The first Litany is ‘Garou shall not mate with Garou.’ If the Garou breeds amongst themselves- and not with a kinfolk- the result is a metis like Alex. He wasn’t born Human, like your father.”

“Wait, what?” Alex looked Human. A bit awkward, but most boys your age were awkward.

“A metis isn’t born wolf or human.” Your mother says. “They are born in Crinos, the wolf man form. Teeth, claws, and all. Alex’s mother died giving birth to him.”

“Oh.” Alex didn’t tell you that, though a mother’s death isn’t something you bring up in casual conversation.

“Metis stay in Crinos until they hit puberty and go through their first change.” Your mother shifts in her barstool. “Imagine a toddler having a temper tantrum. Now imagine one with Garou rage and long claws and sharp teeth. Until a metis grows up, they have to be locked away out of sight.” Your mother shakes her head. “It’s not a safe way to raise a child, especially a rage filled werewolf one. Most of them don’t turn out right. Remember your Aunt Anne’s students? They are all pre-change metis. One of them bit her fingers off.”

On one level you are horrified at what your mother is tell you. Werewolf children locked up until they grow up. Yet at the same time you are relieved. She didn’t know about your interest in Alex. Though, maybe it is a good thing you have given up boys. You want no part of killer werewolf babies. “Alex didn’t seem crazy. Maybe it’s because he’s deaf…”

“He’s deaf because he’s a metis. They all have some deformity. Deaf, blind, hairless, paralyzed. Metis have a one hundred percent chance at becoming Garou, so they have that advantage. But they are sterile, so they can’t pass on their Garou blood.” Your mother frowns. “That’s why Kinfolk are so important to the Garou. If we didn’t exist, the Garou would die out in a generation.” Your mother exhales a breath and comes back to her original topic. “Don’t break the first Litany, Sigrid. No birth control is full proof enough to risk your life.”

“Mom,” you roll your eyes. “I’m not going to get pregnant. Stop being so paranoid.”

Your mother ignores your retort. “I never wanted to have this conversation with you. I tried to keep you from this.” Your mother is no longer talking about Metis. She closes her eyes. “I prayed to Gaia every day for this ‘honor’ to pass you by.”

“Why? I can understand dad not telling me. He never calls. But after all the trouble I had in school, you knew the reason.” You feel your rage rise. “You could have told me! You could have told me I was turning into a fucking werewolf!”

“I wanted you to grow up normal, Sigrid.” Your mother’s voice is still calm.

“I was never normal! I never had any friends! Everyone was scared of me!” You yell.

“Living in Kirksville isn’t any better!” Your mother’s voice raises to match your own. “It’s not safe here! There is always violence in Kirksville. If not the Garou causing trouble, it’s the wyrm trying to invade Crying Rock. “

“But..”

“Shh…” Your mother takes your face in her hands. “It will be fine. Once you lose your Kinfetch, we will leave and go back to Austin.”

“No!” You tear yourself away from your mother. “How could I leave after what dad told me?”

“What did your father tell you?” Your mother demands. “That there’s a war going on? That the Garou are making the world a better place? Both our families have been fighting this war for generations.” Long held venomous words spews forth from your mother’s mouth. “Nothing get better. Nothing ever changes. All the Garou do is sit on that damn Rock and when they get bored of Rock sitting, they come into town to drink, fight, and fuck!”

“That’s not true! The people in town respect him.” You remember the men at the diner saluting your father.

“Don’t you dare defend him. You’ve only been with him an afternoon and now you are buddies?” Your mother barks a bitter laugh. “Sigrid, he’s never cared about us. The only reason why he takes an interest in you now is because you may become Garou. Ever since his first change, all he’s ever cared about is that damned Rock!”

Hearing your mother talk about your father like this…. You close your eyes to contain your rage. You knew they had problems but they always kept you out of it. Now… Claws click on the wood floors. You spin around and growl at the approaching wolf.

“Sigrid…” Calmed, your mother reaches out to you. “Look, I’m sorry…” She stops short when you spin around and snarl at her. Her eyes widen. Her skin pales. Fear. You can smell her fear. You take a step towards your mother. You hear her speeding heart in her chest. The blood pounding through her veins. You.... Your reaction to your mother’s fear shocks you out of your rage. You back away from your mother and retreat up the stairs. “Sigrid!” your mother calls out.

“Let her go,” Another voice orders, a male voice rough from disuse.

You pick a room at random and throw yourself on the bed. You curl around a pillow. Your mother’s fear scares you, but what scares you more is how much her fear excites you. What are you becoming?

You bit down on the pillow and scream.


End Chapter One.
 
Chapter one is done! At the end of each chapter I ask for some feedback on how the quest is going and about my writing.

1. Infodumps. How did the info dumps work? Did I overload you guys with too much information? Did they seem more like verbal vomit? Did you have any questions I missed explaining?

2. Descriptions. One of the reasons why I set Brave Enough in Texas was to improve my descriptions. How were the setting descriptions? Descriptions of the characters? Anything I need to improve upon?

3. NPCs. I got a lot of NPCs in my quest. I got a list of characters I will post in time for Chapter two. Is there any confusion about who is who?

4. Any other comments?

I'll start chapter two next Monday, May 8th. Funny enough, my original plan was to start the quest already in Kirksville, so the first post of chapter two is half written.

Thanks guys for sticking with me though this crazy werewolf ride though Small Town Texas.
 
it was nice having a refresher course for werewolves, what little I got to play with them was with their uber nerfed version in a werewolf vs. vampire game. All I ask is if death rage becomes a thing it's a big deal.
 
1: Info dumps were good, informative and felt natural.

2: It's weird, but I don't really remember specifics of any descriptions, but I do have a "feel" for everything/everyone based on how people talk about them and how you write about them, which I suppose is the whole point.

3: During the start when people were first being introduced I had trouble keeping up with the NPCs, but it's getting better.

4: I don't think I'll ever be a werewolf player, but this quest helps me see the appeal more than I originally did. Keep it up!
 
-flails around- I'm literally in love with this.

Now, I have NO background knowledge on Werewolf: The Apocalypse- BUT with things needed to be explained to Sigrid I'm having no problem following which is lovely. Your writing is fantastic and the questions are extremely well timed. Beautiful job overall.
 
Click to expand...
You mean Thrall of the Wyrm? Or the final frenzy before a Garou dies?
I suppose the thrall of the Wyrm thing is the closest example. I played werewolf in their first iteration of nWoD, Werewolf the forsaken. In that version of werewolf Death rage was +1 dice to combat actions and you can't tell friend from foe. It was an awkward time where they cried in the corner because of how bad they were when compared to any other supernatural. There's a reason nWoD got overhauled twice now.
 
I don't foresee Thrall of the Wyrm coming up in the quest. If it does, I'll just use the lupus version for all breeds. The other breeds versions are really fucked up. No one wants to read that and I don't want to write it.
 
013 - The Black Forest in Winter

Overnight, snow has fallen fresh upon the ground. It dusts your fur when you exit your den. You shake off the white powder. A stray snowflake falls upon your nose and melts. You lick it clean with your tongue. The thick blanket of white makes you long to return to the warmth of your den. Yet you trust your fur to keep you warm enough.

You pad though the snow, your wide paws easily navigating the powder. You climb the hill which conceals your den. When you reach the hilltop, you paw down to bare rock and sit. Though a gap in the pine canopy, you watch for moonrise. Soon. A arctic breeze disturbs the pines of the Black Forest. The scents the wind brings entices you. A rabbit nurses an early litter in her den, death haunts each fragile beat of her offsprings’ hearts. A mouse scamper across the snow, it’s mouth pouch bursting with seeds. A raven takes flight, scattering snow off its roosting branch.

The light of the rising Gibbous moon casts silver light and the shadow of leaves dance on the fresh snow. Now is the time. You raise your snout to the sky and call your brothers and sisters to the hunt. Their replying howls echo through the forest. Your pack arrives with yelps of greeting. You welcome them with an aloof air, accepting their licks and nicks with royal dignity. With a commanding yip, you settle the pack. You take off in a roping lope, blazing a trail through the fresh snow. You pack follows in your wake.

The winter wind flicks your whiskers, bringing you the scent of prey. Elk slumber in a snow covered field. They huddle together for warm and safety. Your pack sister digs in the snow for a pile of dung. The pack takes turns rolling around in the grassy clumps. Your mouth salivates at the musk of the elk. You lick the imagined spill of Elk blood off your chops. You calm your eagerness and circle the herd, observing. One Elk stands apart. It limps, right back leg injured.

The winter forest falls away. Your nostrils extend. An aura of dried blood and rotting flesh surround the elk. The Elk’s wound heals poorly. Your eyes fix on the elk. It limps restless among its slumbering herd. Its stomach expands and contracts with its final breaths. The elk digs for the first shoots of spring, its final meal. You flick an ear.

The pack charges. The herd stampedes in terror. The ground trembles with hoof falls. The acidic stench of urine spoils the wind. A pregnant cow falters, a temptation. You stay the course - the limping elk. Your heart pounds against the uneven rhythm of your running prey. The limping elk never leaves your sight. A grey shadow leaps past you. Your brother clamps his jaws around the elk’s uninjured leg. The elk kicks at your pack brother. He dodges and disengages.

Elk distracted, you rear up and latch on to the elk’s throat. The tainted taste of blood fills your mouth....



A sharp repetitive noise shrieks at you. You strike out. The object flies across the room. It slams against a white barrier and falls into pieces.

You claw with long unwieldy fingers at your sweat soaked sheets. Disoriented, your eyes dart around you. You do not recognize this place nor the objects in it. Each object is a shape whose purpose you can not discern. You sniff, searching for the forest, the snow, the elk, your pack. A sob escapes you. Nothing, but old dust and musty dead plants. No one is here. You are trapped in this drywall cage. Alone.

Slowly, your mind comes back to the here and now. You remember who you are. Your name is Sigrid Kirk. You live in Austin… no,Kirksville, Texas. Today is the first day of your Junior year of high school. Your first day at your new school. You regain control of your breath and calm your racing heart.

The alarm clock, an old school Mickey Mouse, lies in pieces near the far wall. Above the broken clock is a print of the dark foreboding forest. A pack of wolves, five in all, stalk an elk. Bloody hoof prints reveal the elk’s trail. A savage picture which foreshadows death and violence. You didn’t notice the picture last night, but obviously it must have influenced your subconscious. Yet the print is wrong. There should be only four wolves, not five.

You shake your head of this insane thought.

Still dressed in the truck stop cast offs from yesterday, you get out of bed and pick up Mickey’s head. Poor Mickey. He didn’t deserve this treatment. You set the broken alarm clock on your night stand. Mickey gives you a blank plastic stare.

You peer through the thin yellowing blinds. The sky beyond is still dark. Crying Rock stands a beacon amidst the violet predawn sky. The lake is still. All the houses along the lake are dark and quiet. You are the only one awake on the lake.

No. You hear the click of claws on wood floors. Democritus the wolf prowls the hallway outside your door. Downstairs, your mother bustles in the kitchen. Did she sleep last night? You push your argument with your mother out of your mind. Your actions last night shame you. You do not want to face your mother this morning.

An old white and gold french dresser stands opposite of the window. You look into the mirror. Your hair's a mess. Dark circles weigh down your grey blue eyes. You rub the sleep gunk from your eyes and discover a basket of clean laundry by the door. Did your mother put it there?

Who set the alarm? You didn’t hear her come in.

You groan and fall back into bed. You wish you had a few days to digest everything your parents revealed to you. It’s not everyday you discover you may be a werewolf. That deserves a few days off school right?

You heft the laundry basket off the ground and place it on the bed. You sort through it. It’s your first day of school. You want to make an impression on the other students.


What do you wear?

  • Vintage. You’ve searched the thrift stores of Austin for the most fashionable vintage ware. Being poor never stopped you from looking good. You got to show off your designer thriftiness to the rest of the school.
    vintage1.jpg


  • Feminine. As an Athlete, you rarely get the chance to wear a dress. Today you will wear one. This has nothing to do with Alex or any other boy you may met at school. Nope. Boys are off the menu and have nothing to do with your choice to wear a dress.
    cherry-dress1.jpg


  • Punk. Fluorescent shoe laces, sugar skull tank, artfully ripped jeans. You loved to shock and you love to challenge the school dress code. Maybe this new school doesn’t have rules against pink hair.
    punk1.jpg


  • Don’t give a fuck. Clothes are clothes. You’d wear Pajama Pants to school if your mother would let you. Instead you will wear comfortable jeans and your “Fuck” shirt. You are a firm believer in truth in advertising.
    fu-shirtjpg.jpg


  • Other. Link me a picture of what you are thinking of.

((Sorry. Couldn't find pictures of everything that looked like Sigrid.))
 
I guess I might as well vote~ ;3

Causal? Kinda. Not interested in standing out nor blending too much, a simple pair of jeans should do the trick along with a semi-worn hoodie (totally not because your dream left you with a bit of a chill.)
Womens-Casual-Clothes-pfrdmubh10a.jpg
 
I'm gonna say somewhere between Don't give a fuck and vintage. Mostly I just want Sigrid to collect funny/weird T-shirts. Svante didn't get to adventure in Funny hats so Sigrid must adventure in funny shirts.
 
I think the Punk look (which would definitely have a vintage feel to it.) Sigrid's favorite shirt is a delightfully tattered Ramones shirt from the Blitzkrieg Bop tour, which she found in a pile at the flea market (scoffing at the kids who buy their shit at Hot Topic). Her mp3 playlist is full of Bad Brains and Black Flag (it's good running music) and she is definitely eyeing that pink hair, if she can get away with it.
 
To pool all of your ideas, vintage tee-shirt, artfully ripped jeans, and doc martin rip offs?

Something like this?
sigrid.jpg
 
Probably want fewer rings and such if it's possible we will turn into a large monster and don't want metal digging into our skin. Otherwise I dig it.
 

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