Hello Folks,

I'd like to share a backstory with you. If you have any remarks, I'm up to it.

I will use some rudeness in it, Please forgive me. It's my character's way with wor(l)ds.



Hello pup, do you wanna hear a story about love, sex and ass-beating moral? Than sit down on that create of dynamites and try to not fidget.
The rageballs call me Pastcharmer, Adren Ragabash of Uktena. I’ve never lied about my lineage, I just made them accept their own flawed vision without question.
For you I’m Xochipilli Pastcharmer. Yeh, Ptah Pastcharmer would be nicer to the ears, with the alliteration, but old Xo’ have the bigger balls. So do I. You don’t have many chicks here, in this dustbin of Arisona.
So, everything started with a Garou. You know the type: Up and mighty, stick-into-ass, pure breeded, full with self-importance and drive. He was quite pleasant to the eyes, as the story goes. He’s name was Screaming Creak, and for now, he is promptly dead, so won’t be angry about some personal chit-chat.
Our hero was the last of his line, a Banetender in Appalachia, supposed to check the seals of some spiritual prison inhabited by the common un-killable monster-bane of forgotten destruction, or stuff like that.
By the way, I never understood this indestructible part. It should not be dat big deal. We could unleash the Sto… Hm, let’s back to the story!
So, as I told you, this pal was the remnant of a bigger family. Their kinfolk died, their contacts dwindled, alliances soured and when my story takes place this pal stood on the greaves of his fellows, and thought: “Fuck, we’re in a big shit”.
You know, if you don’t maintain the cages, the lions come out to play. Have you wondered what the spirits eat in captivity? I did. Not nice.
So what would you do if you were our protagonist?
Coyote, you have to learn! No, you should make some Garou want to do what you have to do, and let dem shovel all the shit. I don’t like your glory hounding!
But nooooo, our friend here haven’t called for help. No, Honor, oh Honor of the Duty was more important. Closing the cellar door was the task, even if he didn’t exactly know what’s in the basement. Have I mentioned that he was Uktena.
What is Uktena? Man, you know shit! It is an injun water-spirit-cougar-dragon-fish stuff, also the Totem of the most reclusive, secret-mongering tribe of all Garou. They loves to play with rabid dogs on short leash.
Therefore, this sick fucko, who was also a mighty Theurge, called for the Spirits’ aid, located a Hive in a handful of days, not too far, but not to close. He waited for a perfect opportunity. In one month, he was able to abduct one of the low Rank chick of the black sado dancers.
Of course not from the Hive, but from the bawn. You read too much comics.
The she-wolf was taken into his to his cave, as if inspired by Neanderthals. All the tracks were covered by Gifts, and the girl’s presence clouded by Rites. After all the preparation, belts, chains, goth music and candles he impregnated her… Jeh, I’m speaking of rape. You don’t like my story? What are you, some liberal, feminist Black Fury, or some soft hippy?
Add nine months, and an albino, metis baby-girl was born. Mr. Creek raised her, and her unnamed mother’s corpse was burnt into cinders. The ashes were rubbed into the walls of the trap, strengthening it for decades. I can speak hours about Ukts’ flaws, but I must admit, they are, at least, an effective bunch.
Yo donno what’s metis? Disfigured, sometimes mad, Garou, who come if they pump each other.
No, there is no such thing with us. Have you ever tried to date a Nuwisha? Hahah, I’ll hit ya with some Humor for that remark.
Years went by and the girl, now White Fire, thanks to the innate connection to the spiritual, and a good timed C-section, became a Theurge and a trained Banetender. She almost newer left their habitat, suffocating by her inherited duty and two fistful of fatherly manipulation. Creek was good. with all of his mindwash the Litany breach remained hidden, and he had the hands needed. He raised Fire to be a helpful, fanatic, subservient gal. Why hire help if you can make it on your own?
Now, drums, comes Oghma Laughing Tears into our little moral play. She was a beautiful, lithe, svelte mongrel girl, best product from the worst genepool. She was also a hard assed, cruel bitch. One of us. Think of Sarah Connor in Judgement day, minus sunglasses, plus darker complexion. Now you have the picture. Good. Hey maaan, respect!
In those times she was thinking about dansing, but wanted to explore our world a little bit more, so she travelled a lot. Thanks to Coyote, she found Fire washing some pooped trousers in a brook, and her condition wasn’t easy to miss. After that the drive kicked in. You know about the curiosity of coyotes.
She took the mantle of a traveling Silent Strider, and “accidental” bumped into Fire. She could easily fit into the wandering stereotype, maybe, because she was one. Poor gal had the social skills of a rock, so she was easy to befriend and use. Tears almost had some remorse to do this with the metis, but she could be meaner than a Ratkin, so she managed.
Soon Fire trusted her enough to present her to his father, and with Gifts and skills, Tears plucked the secrets of Creek’s mind. Not about their Rites, about himself.
What she found disappointed her deep in her core. Creed didn’t feel any pangs of conscience. It was a question if he had one. He just did, what he had to do. He protected Gaia, saved the Tribes, tended humanity, and followed his call. He abducted, raped, killed a thinking, living being, Wyrm-ridden nonetheless, and thought that was the best course of action. He sired a metis, raised a slave, lied a child about her mother without any…
What, ya ask if they can be cleansed? No, metis are…
Of course, they could be! Dat big silver lakes burn away the maggots and leave a Garou behind.
Than why she had to die? Violation without a witness is nonexistent.
Sooo, Tears found a perfect target to trick. Slowly, gradually, she got Creek’s trust. She showed compassion, kindness and, than, love. The old bastard desired those like nothing else. Try to understand him, a forlorn watchmen, with an only companion as his daughter, a malformed mirror herself. Geez, no fun at all. Add some of our Gifts’ power into the mix and a shapely butt. Burns like gunpowder!
I must also mention that Tears always propped Fire as a mother her child. They became attached, kindred souls bound by unfortunate circumstances.
When Creek broke, what was unavoidable, he asked her to live. If she would stay, he would violate his duty, his creed, his life and the Litany for her love.
She remained and, soon, become pregnant.
Creek went through shame, anguish and fear, because of the creation of a metis, his own son, birthed from love, wasn’t justified by his Vision. He thought about the Spirits displeasure, tearing chains and terror creeped into his heart
But Tear soothed the pain and kissed the tears away. She made him promise that he will always protect their son. I donno how she knew he will be a boy, maybe maternal instincts really exist.
Before the child came, Shadowwalked out of known existence, and Creek now knew real loneliness and loss. Poor lil’ Fire was there but wasn’t enough.
Tear waited until Creak was at the edge of Harano…
Why do you always interrupt me? Don’t do that with the wolves. It’s some kind of crazy-garou-depression what shouldn’t concern you, dumbass!
Again, when was at the edge of Harano, she came back with a small, healthy coyote. Or a coywolf. She dropped the pup, and after some worlds, vanished again. Just like that. He only left their child and maybe a teardrop.
What happened afterwards?
You live, so the Bane is still gagged and bounded.
Creek swallowed his wounded pride, rage, tears and become a somewhat distant, but caring father. When the boy way seven, he died, but his Legacy lives on.
Tears came back, hugged the children, and took Creeks body into the Umbra. I hope into the Summer Country. It’s greater Wisdom in fighting your flaws than being flawless all along.
Fire became a proper Banetender, helped his half-brother to adjust, and give his family compassion. She still lives in her father’s cave. If the birds can be trusted, she even adopted some unwanted metis along the road.
The coywolf grew. One spirit of a chief, a revered Ancestor, appeared to him when he was one and half year old. He went over the First Change when the boss told him: “Take my hand and I’ll help your paw to become as mine. It’s gross when you lick your balls”. After Creek passed, he started to travel the realms tricking the Wyrm where he can. He even joined a famous Garou pack and gutted some kind of amphibian-earthworm monster what was gnawing grandmoms in the Dark Umbra.
Finished. You liked it? Than fuck yourself with a hedgehog!