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  • As promised, a final bonus entry!

    Artifice & Industry – Royal Avatar of Red Wolf

    This story is not true, but it is probably what actually happened. As the Industrial Revolution entered full swing and the rasping grasp of its changes wore at the fabric of Europe, many Iron Masters were caught in a conundrum. They were not sure how to deal with the spiritual havoc being wreaked by industry — the question of how best to handle the eruption of new spirits, the chaotic intermixing of what which had come before with that which now arose, the debate over how to best try and shape or guide the transmogrification of society and hunting ground alike. The Iron Masters, being who they were, did not favour attempting to turn back the clock and undo what had been unlocked by humanity’s advances, but rather whether there was a unifying path they should take in dealing with how matters might unfold. Some of the Farsil Luhal looked to their Tribal totem for guidance.

    Red Wolf found the questions of the Industrial Revolution as fascinating as its followers did and, upon being petitioned for advice, it spat out a shard of its being to go forth to the affected realms and consider the issue. Red Wolf being Red Wolf, it had no intention of simply divining then providing an answer to the Tribe, but to find the right questions to in turn put to the Tribe, to best arm them to make such decisions for themselves — and then to witness how the Iron masters would, themselves, adapt.

    The problem came about when the royal avatar, a great wolf of rust-red fur and corrosion, was simply overwhelmed by the sheer scope of the task it was executing. The Revolution, this evolution of industry, was so colossal in scope, its ramifications so widespread and affecting so many levels of so many societies and territories, that the avatar was not fully able to settle matters within its own spirit; its internal harmony became destabilised, caught in an inner argument that rippled through its being. Which elements of the Revolution were most virtuous, and which needed to be caught in gnashing jaws? What amongst the ingenuity and the crushing oppression was most impactful in shaping the forthcoming world? Was the Revolution most truly represented in the hammering, churning guts of the factories and engines, or in the knowledge and achievements cascading from it? Was the Revolution beautiful, or monstrous? The avatar did not know.

    In order to resolve this internal argument, it tore itself in half, becoming two. Each of these new avatars held a portion of the first’s understanding and ideals. Despite being now twofold, neither royal avatar was lessened in the process. The Iron Master devotees present at the site of such an act watched in awe as the Essence of Red Wolf was now split between the equally huge spirits, Artifice and Industry. Artifice gleamed, a rough wolf-shape of bright metal, ink that hissed and spat as it dribbled from the beast’s hide, clicking iron eyes staring forth from between its riveted seams and mane of red fur. Industry loomed, a lupine monstrosity of embers and fire, soot and brick, thundering steel and whirring weave.

    The two halves immediately set upon one another in a battle that shook the spiritscape, driven to action by their opposition. They burned and resculpted the Shadow for four days and four nights, arguing as they went. The struggle ended when the Iron Masters beset the pair with binding rites and prayers. They finally pried Artifice and Industry apart, the pair lapsing into acquiescence when the werewolves pointed out that the two grand spirits’ fighting had wrought such damage as to render the question of the Revolution irrelevant in the immediate vicinity; the Shadow was littered with factory-carcasses, the air had cleared as the spirits of smoke had fled, and the very reason for the conflict had been suppressed.

    The two kept their tempers in reign thereafter, mostly. They beset the Iron Masters with questions and advice from their rival viewpoints, constantly bickering with each other in the process. No matter the topic, Artifice could sneer at Industry’s drably unambitious approach, while Industry would clatter and hiss its opposition to the impracticalities of Artifice’s blue-sky dreams. Artifice pressed for the singular, the creative, the unique, the new, the inventive, the beautiful, the horrific; adaptation brought from pressing on, never staying content with what had been achieved. Industry systematically spoke in favour for the pragmatic, the achievable, the useful, the mass, the repetitive, the oppressive; better to turn one’s efforts to the production of a thousand swords to arm a thousand warriors and thus to win a war, rather than bedecking one useless general with a single golden weapon.

    They bickered and they argued and they played their part in the steps the Iron Masters took. When the Tribe wrought binding rites to snare the vast, grinding teeth of steel that underlay the Revolution, Artifice’s advice was woven into the sorceries they wielded, while Industry’s strength aided with the endless lengths of spiritual chain. In the aftermath, Red Wolf took the pair up in its jaws, and they argued bitterly even as the teeth closed around them.

    Yet Artifice and Industry kept on appearing as the decades, then centuries, passed. The Iron Masters are not entirely sure why. Some theorise the pair represent a fundamental internal conflict of Red Wolf, or that the two are just too determined to keep arguing, or that Red Wolf was amused by their emergence and finds them still to be useful. When the two arrive, it is usually on the back of a great change that is occurring in the world, and they each seek to learn more of how this change will impact events and how the world will, in turn, adapt. As part of that, they offer guidance and counsel to the Iron Masters, but always in opposition to one another. They provide rival viewpoints and ideals, each pushing the Farsil Luhal in a different direction. They agree only on the most fundamental of notions, and are not above taking their rivalry to violent expression against one another—although it rarely lasts for long. Perhaps they still recall the ruin of the first days following their birth.

    The tales of their bickering might make it seem like the two are less god-monsters and more angry siblings—entirely comprehensible creatures caught in a base and debasing argument. Every joke about the arguing twins that an Iron Master laughs at leaves them less prepared when faced with the real thing, though. The two are shards of divinity, albeit obsessed with matters of the world; they are colossal and proud, and take very poorly to any form of mockery from a mere werewolf. Their arguments are not a rapid-fire barrage of jabs and insults, but a grim and implacable debate of uncontestable concepts where neither can ever step back from their positions. It’s a philosophical war, not a verbal playground, and there have been plenty of very real casualties in its wake—werewolves caught up in one or other’s schemes, entire communities of humans, even the fabric of reality itself. The presence of both in the same place at the same time warps the behaviour of human beings in the area, stirs opposition and conflict, and drives crafters and creators to fits of energy and excess.

    It is said that Artifice can be summoned through the destruction of something unique and beautiful, an act that ensures its singular nature is immortalised. There’s a code wrapped up in hammering iron and rattling gears that taps out a call to Industry. Artifice has been known to mop the brow of artists in the midst of creative mania, driving them to burn their soul out in feverish dreams even as they achieve their magnum opus. Industry licks the sweat from the hands of exhausted workers, and runs with the stray dogs that frolic on wastelands of coal dust and spoil. Artifice dances through the minds of labourers choking on fumes and chemicals; Industry drinks the blood of limbs lost to thrashing machinery and falling barrels. There’s ways to barter with Artifice in trade for knowledge; Industry’s paws spill over with raw resources and gleaming wealth.

    One rumour refuses to die, a story that is true. If two fragments of the first royal avatar wrought such havoc from their birth, what of the third fragment? What was born in the soot and the fire and the shattered brick that the two inflicted during their battle, blind to the consequences of their actions? The tales speak still of something else that prowled forth from that battleground of division and debate, of consequences made real, a reminder of the price of change—a wolf of red ruin, a Secondborn of hunger and pain.

    Artifice & Industry

    Rank 5 Spirits of Change

    Power 13 Finesse 15 Resistance 12

    Willpower 10 Essence 50 Initiative 27 Defence 13 Corpus 27 Size 15 Speed 43

    Ban: Artifice and Industry are compelled to act in opposition to each other.

    Bane: The Bane of Artifice is Industry; the Bane of Industry is Artifice.

    Influences: Creativity 5 (Artifice), Machinery 5 (Industry)

    Manifestations: Twilight Form, Materialise, Possess, Claim, Gauntlet Breach, Fetter

    Numina: Awe, Backbreaker* (Industry Only), Blast, Drain, Efficiency*(Industry only), Inspire*(Artifice only), Mania*(Artifice only), Mortal Mask, Omen Trance, Twin Beings*

    New Numen—Twin Beings: Although two separate spirits, Artifice and Industry are linked. They share their Willpower, Essence and Corpus pools. By spending 1 Essence, either one can immediately appear at the location of the other. Both are constantly aware of the other’s general state of wellbeing, and neither can gain surprise against the other. Should the two be separated by some means that would actually sever this link, it immediately discorporates both.

    New Numen—Efficiency: This numen allows the spirit to enhance an object that it is fettered to. While it remains fettered, the spirit can spend 1 Essence to add the 8-again quality to dice pools involving the object for 1 scene, and can target up to the spirit’s Size in additional objects of the same kind that are also present.

    New Numen—Inspire (R): This numen allows the spirit to inspire a human being. The spirit spends a single point of Essence, granting the human the Inspired Condition pertaining to the spirit's concept.

    New Numen—Backbreaker: By spending 10 Essence and taking an Instant action, the spirit can inflict the Arm Wrack, Leg Wrack and Knocked Down Tilts on as many opponents present in the scene as it wishes that have a Stamina equal to or less than the successes rolled on the activation pool. Humans affected by the power, or who merely witness it, gain the Cowed Condition.

    New Numen—Mania: By spending 10 Essence and taking an Instant action, the spirit can inflict the Madness, Fugue and Shaken Conditions on as many targets present in the scene as it wishes that have a Resolve equal to or less than the successes rolled on the activation pool. Humans affected by the power, or who merely witness it, gain the 8-again quality on Academics, Occult, Science and Expression dice pools for the next month.


    - Chris Allen, Freelance Writer: Forsaken & Awakening 2nd Edition / The Pack / Dark Eras 1 & 2 / The Contagion Chronicle / Idigam Anthology / Night Horrors: Nameless & Accursed and Shunned by the Moon / Trinity Aeon / Aeon Aexpansion / And more besides...

    ​Like my work? Feel like helping me stay supplied with tea? Check out my Patreon

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    • Cool. The Backbreaker Numen seems so mean.

      And I'm so curious about the secondborn. Maybe there will be a Secondborn September to see it? Or have we already had a glimpse, in That Which Is Broken?

      Comment


      • Originally posted by nofather View Post
        Or have we already had a glimpse, in That Which Is Broken?
        Who? I think I missed that reference


        My Homebrew Signature

        "And all our knowledge is, Ourselves to know"- An Essay on Man

        I now blog in here

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        • Originally posted by LostLight View Post
          Who? I think I missed that reference
          Sorry it's mentioned in the Thousand Steel Teeth totem write-up. Their totem, the Smoke-Drinker, is being chased by the spirit minions of That Which Is Broken, called 'a terrible god of ruin.'

          Comment


          • I'd make That Which Is Broken the patron of the Lodge of Ruin, and say, Detroit it's Mecca.

            Also, I'd be fine with all avatars being actually Secondborn.
            Last edited by Malus; 03-13-2018, 05:33 PM.

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            • Twin Beings is now my favorite Numen. It cannot be otherwise, anymore.


              Currently Playing: A large, mixed splat game of CofD.
              As: Seth; Would-be shaman. Wildlife studies major. Wolfblood.

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              • I'm probably going to mine this thread for ideas when I have more time. That said, I hope you're alright with me using the Untraceable Numen from the Knight for the Eaters of Names Lodge writeup I'll be revisiting.


                "My Homebrew Hub"
                Age of Azar
                The Kingdom of Yamatai

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                • This stuff is awesome.

                  Comment


                  • oh crap,i just realized. The Knight At The Crossroads is Bloody Deadpool

                    Comment


                    • Originally posted by Nicolas Milioni View Post
                      oh crap,i just realized. The Knight At The Crossroads is Bloody Deadpool
                      Uhm...how?


                      Sean K.I.W. Steele, Freelance Writer
                      Work Blog Coming Soon
                      The world is not beautiful, therefore it is.-Keiichi Sigsawa, Kino's Journey
                      Male/neutral pronouns accepted, female pronouns enjoyed.

                      Comment


                      • Originally posted by ArcaneArts View Post
                        Uhm...how?
                        The whole questioning previously estabilished rules and trditions and taunting nature and making jokes at more powerful people expense

                        Comment


                        • Originally posted by Nicolas Milioni View Post
                          The whole questioning previously estabilished rules and trditions and taunting nature and making jokes at more powerful people expense
                          That's...just about every trickster archetype ever.


                          Sean K.I.W. Steele, Freelance Writer
                          Work Blog Coming Soon
                          The world is not beautiful, therefore it is.-Keiichi Sigsawa, Kino's Journey
                          Male/neutral pronouns accepted, female pronouns enjoyed.

                          Comment


                          • Originally posted by ArcaneArts View Post
                            That's...just about every trickster archetype ever.
                            Now that you mentioned it,it's true. Guess Deadpool was just on my mind and made a connection

                            Comment


                            • How about another royal avatar, huh?


                              Royal Avatar: Hunger-of-Ages
                              Everything ends. All the works of man will fall into ruin. No monument to the folly of civilization will stand the test of time. The endeavours and accomplishments of a human life are but the blink of the world’s eye, flesh turned to dirt and stone ground to dust in what seems like a flash to the great, enduring forces of existence—and even those great forces will fold and buckle before the ravening hunger of time itself.

                              Hunger-of-Ages is a facet of Dire Wolf, an aspect torn away and spat into the broken world that the Firstborn so loves and so hates. Hunger-of-Ages bears the weight of Dire Wolf’s place as the eldest of the Firstborn, his loathing of the naive pretence that burdens humanity with the notion that civilization’s efforts have any true meaning—and, ultimately, the fear of his own ailing strength, that he too will follow the Great Predator’s path, that one day his hate and his hunger will not be enough and he will stumble, weak, and be taken by the great maw of time itself. When that happens, Hunger-of-Ages will be there to herald Dire Wolf’s end.

                              Appearing as a monstrous, three-headed wolf, Hunger-of-Ages’ hide is not the silver-white associated with the positive elements of advanced years and the authority and wisdom thereof, but instead a drained, drab, grey hue that hints at brighter colors now long-faded. Its body hangs as if under a great weight or pressure, the years piled on until every step is effort—although its lean muscles are still capable of propelling it at speed, and dealing horrendously powerful blows to prey. Chains of interlocking metal trail from its neck—one gold, one copper, one iron—but these are not the shackles of a leashed dog. They are the ticking cogs of time, the heavy weight of aeons, and Hunger-of-Ages is not their victim but their master.

                              Hunger-of-Ages does not appear in the world as some ravening horror to sow destruction. He often comes as an observer, there to witness the inevitable failings of humanity before their hubris and before the great, grinding cycles of nature. He sometimes precedes disasters, not as their cause but to see the final chapter of a human society that will soon be brought to calamitous end. Hunger-of-Ages has emerged from the deep Shadow for plagues, earthquakes, and wars—but so too has he watched over the gradual diminishing of civilizations broken by the rigors of time and by stresses that slowly fracture them apart. He is a portent of doom, but not necessarily one that will be quick and thunderous.

                              Dire Wolf does not have complete control over his royal avatar. Hunger-of-Ages does not simply obey the Firstborn that he is a part of, and his peregrinations do not always mean that the god is particularly paying attention to whatever events Hunger has decided to observe. When the avatar is set about a task, it is to work subtle hungers that will bring about downfall—Hunger-of-ages stirs ruinous famines that slowly grow from a meagre harvest to years of unfilled bellies, brings a spark of entropy to the workings of machines that cause them to gradually grind and break through stresses and flaws, and stokes the needy ambitions of those whose acts will eventually fray the fabric of society.

                              The Predator Kings fear Hunger-of-Ages. His wisdom is quiet but implacable—a grim envoy of the inevitability of destruction. He comes among the Tribe not to tear apart upstarts in furious slaughter, but to remind the elders that they, too, must struggle to remain strong and fight the eternal threat of weakness that the passing years press upon them. When Predator Kings fall into apathy or lose the spark of their rage and their passion, Hunger-of-Ages comes among them not to save them but to damn them, locking such blasphemers into decline through his very presence.

                              At the same time, the Tribe looks to him as a judge and arbiter of enlightenment. The greatest Predator Kings, reaching for the revelations of the bodhisattva state, must surpass the threat that Hunger-of-Ages fundamentally represents—the leeching weight of years, and the threat of ennui and hopelessness. To pass before Hunger’s judgment and to be deemed worthy wins an elder great respect among their peers, seen by Dire Wolf to still possess the fire and the fury he values.

                              And then there are those who see a deeper and more meaningful lesson in the presence of Hunger-of-Ages—that one day, even Dire Wolf will fall, and that the Tribe must be ready when their totem stumbles, for how can they follow a totem whose strength they revere when his strength begins to fail?

                              Predator Kings call up Hunger-of-Ages when they plan to wreak great destruction on humanity, desiring his witnessing to make their act truly sacred. The Tribe holds several sacred places upon sites where civilizations were ruined, guarding Loci and strange phenomena among the shattered remnants of ancient societies, and here they invoke the avatar so that he can draw his own strength from their past acts; when Hunger-of-Ages chooses to actually manifest at such a side, all manner of broken rubble and stagnant pool is infused with his power, rendering them potent talens. Challenges among the Tribe sometimes call on Hunger’s name, when a Predator King deems their rival to be failing, losing their strength, and dragging the Tribe down through their growing weakness; the avatar has been known to sometimes appear at such invocations, to watch over the resulting clash. In his presence, old wounds flare up and past losses gnaw at the mind.

                              Hunger-of-Ages hates sculpture—of all mankind’s vanities, it is the graven likenesses of idols that he most greatly loathes. Predator Kings who shatter such prideful depictions, and more generally who destroy art in sacrifices to the avatar, will particularly gain his favour. When stomachs go empty, and minds despair before inexorable catastrophes, he stalks the dreams of the weak and the dying and revels in their slow, fading collapse. When drought descends, he has been known to appear briefly in the Flesh to drink down small lakes and streams, leaving them as nothing more than reeking, muddy gutters and denying even that respite from the drought’s thirst. He doesn’t need it to sate his own appetite—he does it only to take solace to others. The world is cruel and harsh, and Hunger-of-Ages teaches that it offers no true comfort.

                              Hunger-of-Ages, Royal Avatar of Dire Wolf
                              Rank 5 Spirit of Age
                              Power 14 Finesse 11 Resistance 15
                              Willpower 10 Essence 50 Initiative 26 Defence 11 Corpus 25 Speed 25
                              Ban: Hunger-of-Ages cannot tolerate the presence of a newborn, and must flee if presented with one.
                              Bane: Any graven image or sculpture that depicts of Hunger-of-Ages. The Shadowbind rite can potentially be used to not only cage the avatar within an area but, if an appropriate sculpture is prepared within the circle, can be used to bind Hunger-of-Ages into his stony likeness and seal the spirit in the stone until the passage of time erodes and cracks it, releasing the spirit once more.
                              Influences: Hunger 4, Weakness 4
                              Manifestations: Twilight Form, Materialise, Possess, Claim, Gauntlet Breach, Image
                              Numina: Blast, Deprivation*, Drain, Emotional Aura, Entropic Decay, Famine, Seek, Weight of Years*

                              New Numen—Deprivation: The spirit spends 10 Essence, and nominates a particular appetite or need that resonates with its nature. For the next day, across an area with a radius of miles equal to the spirit’s Rank, anyone attempting to satisfy that appetite finds their efforts unfilling, unrewarding, or unpleasant.; no sustenance or recovery of Willpower can be derived from it. If thirst was nominated, for example, one person might find that only brackish water spatters from taps, or that the streams have dried, or that no matter how much they drink it just can’t get rid of the thirst rasping at their throat.

                              New Numen—Weight of Years: The spirit spends 1 Essence, targeting a single individual, object, or structure it can perceive. The activation roll is resisted by youth—targets of less than 1 year old apply a -10 penalty, 1 to 5 years old -8, 5 to 15 years old -6, 15 to 35 years old -4, and 35 to 50 years old -2. Every full century of age actually adds +2 to the dice pool. Each success deals 1 point of aggravated damage to the target’s health or durability as they simply begin to wither and crumble away to dust, flesh or matter aging at a brutally enhanced speed.




                              - Chris Allen, Freelance Writer: Forsaken & Awakening 2nd Edition / The Pack / Dark Eras 1 & 2 / The Contagion Chronicle / Idigam Anthology / Night Horrors: Nameless & Accursed and Shunned by the Moon / Trinity Aeon / Aeon Aexpansion / And more besides...

                              ​Like my work? Feel like helping me stay supplied with tea? Check out my Patreon

                              Comment


                              • Originally posted by Acrozatarim View Post
                                How about another royal avatar, huh?


                                Royal Avatar: Hunger-of-Ages
                                Everything ends. All the works of man will fall into ruin. No monument to the folly of civilization will stand the test of time. The endeavours and accomplishments of a human life are but the blink of the world’s eye, flesh turned to dirt and stone ground to dust in what seems like a flash to the great, enduring forces of existence—and even those great forces will fold and buckle before the ravening hunger of time itself.

                                Hunger-of-Ages is a facet of Dire Wolf, an aspect torn away and spat into the broken world that the Firstborn so loves and so hates. Hunger-of-Ages bears the weight of Dire Wolf’s place as the eldest of the Firstborn, his loathing of the naive pretence that burdens humanity with the notion that civilization’s efforts have any true meaning—and, ultimately, the fear of his own ailing strength, that he too will follow the Great Predator’s path, that one day his hate and his hunger will not be enough and he will stumble, weak, and be taken by the great maw of time itself. When that happens, Hunger-of-Ages will be there to herald Dire Wolf’s end.

                                Appearing as a monstrous, three-headed wolf, Hunger-of-Ages’ hide is not the silver-white associated with the positive elements of advanced years and the authority and wisdom thereof, but instead a drained, drab, grey hue that hints at brighter colors now long-faded. Its body hangs as if under a great weight or pressure, the years piled on until every step is effort—although its lean muscles are still capable of propelling it at speed, and dealing horrendously powerful blows to prey. Chains of interlocking metal trail from its neck—one gold, one copper, one iron—but these are not the shackles of a leashed dog. They are the ticking cogs of time, the heavy weight of aeons, and Hunger-of-Ages is not their victim but their master.

                                Hunger-of-Ages does not appear in the world as some ravening horror to sow destruction. He often comes as an observer, there to witness the inevitable failings of humanity before their hubris and before the great, grinding cycles of nature. He sometimes precedes disasters, not as their cause but to see the final chapter of a human society that will soon be brought to calamitous end. Hunger-of-Ages has emerged from the deep Shadow for plagues, earthquakes, and wars—but so too has he watched over the gradual diminishing of civilizations broken by the rigors of time and by stresses that slowly fracture them apart. He is a portent of doom, but not necessarily one that will be quick and thunderous.

                                Dire Wolf does not have complete control over his royal avatar. Hunger-of-Ages does not simply obey the Firstborn that he is a part of, and his peregrinations do not always mean that the god is particularly paying attention to whatever events Hunger has decided to observe. When the avatar is set about a task, it is to work subtle hungers that will bring about downfall—Hunger-of-ages stirs ruinous famines that slowly grow from a meagre harvest to years of unfilled bellies, brings a spark of entropy to the workings of machines that cause them to gradually grind and break through stresses and flaws, and stokes the needy ambitions of those whose acts will eventually fray the fabric of society.

                                The Predator Kings fear Hunger-of-Ages. His wisdom is quiet but implacable—a grim envoy of the inevitability of destruction. He comes among the Tribe not to tear apart upstarts in furious slaughter, but to remind the elders that they, too, must struggle to remain strong and fight the eternal threat of weakness that the passing years press upon them. When Predator Kings fall into apathy or lose the spark of their rage and their passion, Hunger-of-Ages comes among them not to save them but to damn them, locking such blasphemers into decline through his very presence.

                                At the same time, the Tribe looks to him as a judge and arbiter of enlightenment. The greatest Predator Kings, reaching for the revelations of the bodhisattva state, must surpass the threat that Hunger-of-Ages fundamentally represents—the leeching weight of years, and the threat of ennui and hopelessness. To pass before Hunger’s judgment and to be deemed worthy wins an elder great respect among their peers, seen by Dire Wolf to still possess the fire and the fury he values.

                                And then there are those who see a deeper and more meaningful lesson in the presence of Hunger-of-Ages—that one day, even Dire Wolf will fall, and that the Tribe must be ready when their totem stumbles, for how can they follow a totem whose strength they revere when his strength begins to fail?

                                Predator Kings call up Hunger-of-Ages when they plan to wreak great destruction on humanity, desiring his witnessing to make their act truly sacred. The Tribe holds several sacred places upon sites where civilizations were ruined, guarding Loci and strange phenomena among the shattered remnants of ancient societies, and here they invoke the avatar so that he can draw his own strength from their past acts; when Hunger-of-Ages chooses to actually manifest at such a side, all manner of broken rubble and stagnant pool is infused with his power, rendering them potent talens. Challenges among the Tribe sometimes call on Hunger’s name, when a Predator King deems their rival to be failing, losing their strength, and dragging the Tribe down through their growing weakness; the avatar has been known to sometimes appear at such invocations, to watch over the resulting clash. In his presence, old wounds flare up and past losses gnaw at the mind.

                                Hunger-of-Ages hates sculpture—of all mankind’s vanities, it is the graven likenesses of idols that he most greatly loathes. Predator Kings who shatter such prideful depictions, and more generally who destroy art in sacrifices to the avatar, will particularly gain his favour. When stomachs go empty, and minds despair before inexorable catastrophes, he stalks the dreams of the weak and the dying and revels in their slow, fading collapse. When drought descends, he has been known to appear briefly in the Flesh to drink down small lakes and streams, leaving them as nothing more than reeking, muddy gutters and denying even that respite from the drought’s thirst. He doesn’t need it to sate his own appetite—he does it only to take solace to others. The world is cruel and harsh, and Hunger-of-Ages teaches that it offers no true comfort.

                                Hunger-of-Ages, Royal Avatar of Dire Wolf
                                Rank 5 Spirit of Age
                                Power 14 Finesse 11 Resistance 15
                                Willpower 10 Essence 50 Initiative 26 Defence 11 Corpus 25 Speed 25
                                Ban: Hunger-of-Ages cannot tolerate the presence of a newborn, and must flee if presented with one.
                                Bane: Any graven image or sculpture that depicts of Hunger-of-Ages. The Shadowbind rite can potentially be used to not only cage the avatar within an area but, if an appropriate sculpture is prepared within the circle, can be used to bind Hunger-of-Ages into his stony likeness and seal the spirit in the stone until the passage of time erodes and cracks it, releasing the spirit once more.
                                Influences: Hunger 4, Weakness 4
                                Manifestations: Twilight Form, Materialise, Possess, Claim, Gauntlet Breach, Image
                                Numina: Blast, Deprivation*, Drain, Emotional Aura, Entropic Decay, Famine, Seek, Weight of Years*

                                New Numen—Deprivation: The spirit spends 10 Essence, and nominates a particular appetite or need that resonates with its nature. For the next day, across an area with a radius of miles equal to the spirit’s Rank, anyone attempting to satisfy that appetite finds their efforts unfilling, unrewarding, or unpleasant.; no sustenance or recovery of Willpower can be derived from it. If thirst was nominated, for example, one person might find that only brackish water spatters from taps, or that the streams have dried, or that no matter how much they drink it just can’t get rid of the thirst rasping at their throat.

                                New Numen—Weight of Years: The spirit spends 1 Essence, targeting a single individual, object, or structure it can perceive. The activation roll is resisted by youth—targets of less than 1 year old apply a -10 penalty, 1 to 5 years old -8, 5 to 15 years old -6, 15 to 35 years old -4, and 35 to 50 years old -2. Every full century of age actually adds +2 to the dice pool. Each success deals 1 point of aggravated damage to the target’s health or durability as they simply begin to wither and crumble away to dust, flesh or matter aging at a brutally enhanced speed.

                                i forgot how mean Dire Wolf can be

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