Werewolf Prelude: Genwyn

It has been just more than one cycle of the moon since you first walked on two legs and found your place among the Garou of the Sept of the Great North Woods. The first Change itself was surprising and traumatic for you. You had lost your temper while being corrected by the alpha male of your pack, and violently killed him. The remainder of your pack fled in terror from you, and you had found yourself alone for many nights. You were found, eventually, though, by the wolves-who-walk-like-men and welcomed into their society.

In these long summer days, you have been taught many things about your new people and your new tribe. About the history, about how it is your duty to be a howler-of-songs, to tell the old stories and relate the new ones. You have learned of the spirit world, and how to cross over. You have learned about the changing of your shape, and even some of the words and the habits of those odd creatures called humans.

You do know you have much left to learn, about the gifts and rituals of the Garou, and, of course, you are still a little ways away from your Rite of Passage. This is how it has been for you, when your teacher, a fellow Galliard called Howl-of-the-North-Wind calls you to the heart of the caern. There you find the alpha of your sept, Blizzard-Paw speaking in the human form with a strange female that you do not know.

The cub, even after all of these months among those who walk upright, is still nervous around the human forms of his brethren. The foreign shape is still quite grotesque to his mind and the smell assaults his senses, bringing out an urgency to flee or attack. Yet with all of the training, the cub holds his ground and stays by his teacher's side, settling down on his haunches - listening and waiting. Attempting to pick out those few words he has learned of the humans odd tongue.

Howl-of-the-North-Wind looks at you approvingly, and gives you a few calming signals. There is nothing to worry about here. The stranger is one of our tribe. He looks back to the two of them, an ear remaining canted in that direction. Speaking to you again, he tells you that it is you they are speaking of. You do pick a couple words out, the name they call you in the human tongue, 'fetish' 'vision' 'elder' 'gift'.

The words of his teacher calm the cub even more, gaining some of his brashness back he cants his head towards Howl-of-the-North-Wind and asks, if they are talking about him, why is he not included in their discussion. Humans are so strange in their ways, they always seem to be hiding something.

Your question seems to just amuse North-Wind's-Howl. Because you are a cub, he explains. After he says this, Blizzard-Paw makes a beckoning motion, calling the two of you towards him and the stranger. Your teacher leads the way, he, too, naturally deferring to the sept's alpha.

A laugh spreads across the cubs face at his teacher's answer, but it is soon replaced by a look of worry - worry badly hidden with attempted courage. The cub makes sure he follows after his teacher, deferring to both the alpha and his mentor.

A thousand thoughts race through the wolf cubs head, why did this have to happen to him - why are they calling him out now? He has done nothing strange, his education has progressed at an average pace and even if he has a hard time memorizing the septs history, he has become a very talented teller of stories.. what could the Alpha and this strange human want with him?

As you approach, both the alpha and the stranger shift down into lupus form, apparently so the cub can better understand them. Greetings to you, cub, says the stranger -- odd that she would greet you first, rather than your teacher -- I am called Talks-through-Long-Winter-Nights. What is it that you are called? It is a simple question, but you know that she wants a proper introduction... name, tribe and auspice, at the least.

The cub is taken aback, not from his Alpha's transformation, but from the strangers. He should not be so surprised though, he thinks to himself - his sept is very curious and many outsiders visit from time to time. The cub flits one ear and bows his head, giving his name as those who walk on two legs have adopted for him. The Night has passed, Galliard of the Wendigo. Or.. Yiska for short.

Your teacher follows your introduction with his own. I am called Howl-of-the-North-Wind, galliard fostern of the Wendigo, child of Loon, of the Sept of the Great North Woods. The stranger seems pleased by both introductions, and completes her own. I am Talks-through-Long-Winter-Nights, galliard athro of the Wendigo as well. I am a child of Bison, and hail from the Sept of the Winter Night. Many call me Night-Talker. I am pleased to meet you, Yiska. An athro! That is impressive. In your small sept of 10 Garou, there is but one athro -- the alpha himself. Blizzard's-Paw then takes a step forward to explain further: Night-Talker has come here in search of a cub-who-sings. Her alpha, the elder (you've never met an elder!) crescent-moon Night-Spirit has had a vision that a cub-who-sings could be found here in the North Woods, and would be needed at the Winter Night. The alpha hides how he feels about this very well, better than most any wolf could. All six eyes turn to you, to see your reaction.

As one who was never fond of these overly long introductions, Yiska seems to daze off, recounting the wonderful stories he has been learning while the other grown wolves talk. He is however drawn back by the mention of an Athro.. amazing! One would come so far to find.. him? An Elder has seen a vision of him?

The cub is naturally surprised, shocked in fact. He backs down and lowers his head, asking again to make sure.. him? He is just a cub, how could he, one who has just started to learn of his true heritage, be helpful to an Elder?

Night-Talker speaks: Indeed. We believe it is you. As for why ... we do not know. But we would like you to come back with me to the Sept of the Winter Night. There's a bit of a growl to your left, as your teacher steps forward, his hackles raised in anger. And you, Blizzard-Paw, you would just let this stranger come here and take the first cub we have seen in three summers -- one born of wolf, no less? His emotion is surprising, both that he would challenge the alpha so, and of how he apparently seeks to defend you. He gets a sharp gaze of reprimand from Blizzard-Paw, and a low growl -- the look sends both of you to the ground, sensibly not moving. The alpha responds: She has brought much Chiminage, and a promise of alliance and assistance, and a Moon Bridge, from a distant, large caern. Night-Spirit is an elder of great honor and wisdom. If he says that the cub is needed there, then I believe it. And you should believe it too.
The cub, nose pressed tight to the ground, dirt and the strong scent of wolves filling his nostrils. He whimpers quietly, mostly to himself.. he does not wish to leave, but if his finding and education has led to this strange fate then he must not back down from it. If one thing he has learned has stuck with him, it is that one should never ignore a story when it presents itself.

Yiska looks to his teacher, almost as if ashamded at what he is about to say. And yet he speaks it anyway - I will go. I will follow Night-Talker and see what the Elder Night-Spirit wishes of me. The cub turns and presents Howl-of-the-North-Wind with a laughing face - I will return, teacher. I will return with great stories for you to tell!

Howl-of-the-North-Wind looks distressed to say the least. I will miss you, he responds, after a moment. And I will expect you to keep that promise. He gives a flick of his tail, showing a bit of enjoyment at your company, as fleeting as it seems it will be. The alpha speaks next: So it will be. The cub shall return with Night-Talker and a new a great alliance shall be formed between our two septs! Night-Talker ducks her head for a moment. Indeed. Our Moonwalker shall arrive shortly to work out the details of the Moon Bridge. Thank you, honored Blizzards-Paw for your generosity and kindness. The stranger -- perhaps your new teacher? -- turns to you, then. Say your goodbyes, cub, and meet me at the eastern edge of the bawn at the fall of the sun.

The cub flicks his tail in return, then turns to listen to the last words of Night-Talker. The cub nods and glances to Blizzard-Paw and then Howl-of-the-North-Wind before turning and padding off to find his friends and say his goodbyes.

A half-day later, as dusk approaches, Night-Talker waits for you, at the appointed location. She's back in homid form now, waiting for you to arrive.

Yiska is never one to keep an important person waiting. The cub shows up a few minutes early, still in lupus form, with only a small satchel belted around his chest. He pads up to the human and sits down on his haunches, waiting for her to speak first.

Night-Talker smiles at you. It's still a little weird the way homids show their teeth and are being neither aggressive or submissive, so you appreciate the fact that she keeps her lips mostly closed. "Do you understand the human tongue, cub?" she asks, her voice gentle to your alert ears.

The cub tilts his head to the side, ears perked and attentive. The babble of humans .. so hard to understand. He can pick out bits and pieces, but translating them has been such a chore. He whuffs softly and lays down on his chest, forepaws in front of him. The change is still unsettling, painful.. but he knows it. And it comes fast. The cub shakes himself, the belt loose enough to drop over his stomach.. 

Bones crack and fur ripples as the cub changes from Lupus to Crinos - he pushes himself to his legs and continues to shift backwards, eventually settling into his rather gangly and pre-pubesint homid form. The human boy rubs his cheeks and furrows his brow, "Uh.. uh.. little." He finally formulates, smiling with thinned lips.. Ugh, how he hates this form.

Night-Talker nods. She turns and starts to walk away from the bawn. "It is a long way from here to the Sept of the Winter Night. And since we do not have a Moon Bridge set up yet, we will have to travel the human way, to avoid suspicion. You can either stay in homid form and ride in the truck with us, or you can be lupus, but then you will have to be in a crate. Whichever of these -- admittedly poor," she chuckles, "options you prefer, Yiska."

The boy is obviously struggling to keep up to the woman and understand her at the same time. He's practiced both so much that he feels like an idiot for even having the slightest of difficulty. He shuffles along, though, mumbling to himself in that ugly human word language. "Nnn.." He grunts softly, "No crate." He frowns, clearly detesting the idea of being cooped up in some horrible smelly box. of course, it doesn't occur to him that the cab of the truck is just the exact same thing, but with extra people in it. 

The woman nods and leads you on, to the edge of the woods. Sitting there is the pickup truck -- one of those metal Weaver-beasts the homids are so fond of. It's a bright red. You have to give the humans this, even if their ears and noses are basically non-functional, they do well with the eyes, in the daytime. Sitting inside of truck, holding some piece of paper is another homid. A male, this time. He looks up when you both emerge from the woods and grins, forgetting to hide his teeth. "Mary!" he says, "I was beginning to worry. Is this the, ah, cub?" He looks at you for just a moment, a little embarrassed, as he returns his gaze to the female. She chuckles and nods. "There are some clothes for him in suitcase. I hope they fit. He's a little shorter than I expected." Then the athro looks at you, and says: "That is my mate, Joe."

Slitted eyes greet 'Joe' with contempt, a near hiccup of a growl escaping the naked boys throat.. he coughs, then sputters and frowns, holding his hands to his throat and rubbing firmly, "Hmph. My-Mate-Joe should not show his teeth." The cub speaks slowly, agonizingly so as he walks towards the 'truck'. The boy seems so utterly out of place, his mannerisms unfitting of any human. And that strange way he walks, or stumbles about, for that matter, just makes him look like he were mentally challenged.

Night-Talker-Called-Mary agrees with you, surprisingly, perhaps. "Yes, I shall remind him. He is not used to lupus. But also, you will respect him. He is Kinfolk, and to be respected, do you understand?" Joe gets out the clothes and brings them over towards the two of you. The clothes are simple: a pair of cargo shorts and a plain green t-shirt. She's not even expecting you to wear underwear. "Do you know how to put these on?"

The boy lowers his eyes as he is chided for being overly aggressive. He fidgets, waiting for Joe to bring the clothes around to him. The cub picks up the pair of cargo shorts and stares at them long and hard before finally leaning over and stepping into the large hole and fitting his feet down the two seperate holes. He then pulls up, the shorts getting caught on his hips. He grunts, "They are too small." Apparently the concept of zippers is foreign to him.

If you are making either of the others laugh, they are doing a decent job keeping it hidden. Night-Talker leans down and undoes the zipper, tugs the pants up and rezips them. "There you go." They're a bit big, actually, but it just makes them ride low, and not fall off. "Try the shirt, now."

The boy's face flushes and embarrassment.. stupid human .. things. He grunts and snatches at the shirt, this time just shoving it randomly onto his head. The cub struggles for a few seconds before sticking his head out and then his arms.. luckily, he's got in on correctly, even facing the right way. He doesn't seem to much enjoy it though, as he starts to constantly tug at the shorts and shirt, mumbling nonsense to himself.

She nods, satisfied. "All right, bring your pack, and then get into the truck. You can sit between us." Joe returns, smiling to himself, and gets in the driver's seat. Like many older trucks, it's just got one long bench seat in the front. Your elder follows when you start heading that way, listening to your mumbles, but not commenting. She understands your difficulty.

With his pack never having strayed from his waist, he has no difficulty retrieving it. The boy walks around the truck and clambers into the seat, scooting over until he's pressed tight to Joe's side. Of course, he doesn't seem to like being that close .. and that smile is really putting him off guard. But Night-Talker just plain intimidates him.

Joe starts up the truck, and pulls out onto the gravel road. The stench of the Weaver-thing is awful. As is the racket it makes, even with human senses. Night-Talker looks down at you and your expression. "You'll get used to it, soon enough," she says. And, after a few moments of observation, she notes: "Scared of me, cub?"

The cub is clearly not enjoying himself, almost thinking that the crate would have been a better choice at this point. What with the weaver stench and the two flanking homids.. he sighs and tugs idly at his shorts, but that only serves to remind him that -he's- a homid.

He blinks, cheeks turning red again as he lifts his head to glance up at Night-Talker. He looks down into his lap and shrugs his shoulders, "It is new, all is new now. You are. Yes, I am scared of you."

Night-Talker nods, her expression full of sympathy. She leans over and pulls you against her. At first it is odd, constricting feeling. But after a moment, you begin to feel the grasp as more of the affection of a mother to her pup. Which isn't, you know, horrible. "It will be all right, cub. I am your friend, and I will watch out for you, hmm?"

He jumps at the contact and shifts nervously while he listens to the female's soothing words. He calms somewhat, the gesture actually seeming to calm his worries. He is after all just a cub and a mother-figure.. after having been without his family for so long..

Night-Talker nods, "Probably best if you just take a nap, now, and sleep. It's a long drive."

Too late.. as the cub has already started snoring quite nasally.