Hey there, I am creating this thread as a place to leave any story pieces I happen to write for Werewolf and invite you to do the same.
It could be anything from a description of a character, place or thing to a short story or a plot hook, if it's Werewolf and it's fluffy post it here.

The following was written roughly two years ago, I will be posting more at my earliest convenience

I'll be playing in a Forsaken game pretty soon and our storyteller has asked us to create some areas within our territory to make us feel a sense of ownership. It was supposed to just be vague descriptions, but I decided to write some short fluff pieces. I'll admit I'm pretty new to the Forsaken setting, though I've been playing CoD since it was WoD, so I might have gotten some bits wrong.
A few things that are helpful to know: My character's name is Stormy, the Wolfblooded pack member I created is named Lesley and the two human pack members are Garrath Lane and Leo Kennedy. The Chronicle is set in Glasgow, Scotland.



The Haunt

The wind whistled through the gaps in the boarded up windows, setting Lenny’s heart aflutter.
“Why’s this place gotta be so fuckin’ creepy?”
He paced back and forth across the room, bloodied knife in hand.
“Fucker had it comin’, should’ve just paid his dues and that’d have been that.”
He tossed the knife across the room, landing it in a door.
“I need a fuckin’ hit.” Lenny spoke absently, scratching at the track-marks on his arm.
He paced heavily over to the door to retrieve his knife, it creaked open as he neared.
“What the…” the blood drained from Lenny’s face as he saw what was on the other side, a tattered noose hung from a rafter in a small closet.
That was when he heard me, creaking the floorboards I had come to know so well.
“Who’s there?” His heart beat faster.
I grinned as I silently pulled aside a loose floorboard above him then dripped a bit of pigs blood I’d gotten onto his head.
He looked up, seeing nothing, touched his face and bolted.
I broke my silence for the first time, laughing as I chased him through the halls of my haunt.


An abandoned apartment complex with a old reputation for the inhabitants turning up dead or missing. Over the past year Stormy has cultivated a small fear locus, attached to a noose one the fifth floor in the closet of room 57. Occasionally visited by ghost hunters and more often by people looking for a place to hide.
Plot Hooks: The cops start wondering why so many perps end up missing or found dead, location of a 1 dot fear locus, a team of paranormal investigators show up


The Woods

“Another one?” Lesley chided me.
“He deserved it.” I pouted after I shifted out of Urshul, dropping the body of a man named Lenny at her feet.
“How so?” She laughed, already walking back into her shack to grab the shovel.
“Killed a friend of a friend.” I said as I grabbed the ankles.
“Which friend would that be?”
“None ‘o your business.” My pouting intensified.
“That Kennedy boy?” She smirked at me as she grabbed Lenny under the armpits, shovel slung on her back.
“Shut up Lesley.” I was frowning now.
“You really seem to like the kid.” Lesley chuckled.
“Shut UP Lesley.”
She only laughed harder as we hauled the body to a nice secluded place in the woods.
We were silent for a while as Lesley dug a grave for my prey and I kept watch.
“You know, they make great fertilizer.” Lesley broke the silence as she had almost finished filling in the grave.
I nodded, still listening for trouble. The Firetouched still seemed happy to keep to their own, for how long though?


A woodland populated by small to medium game, located nearby The Haunt, with a small shack belonging to Lesley Hux, the Wolfblooded older-sister figure of Stormy. People occasionally go hunting here, but for the most part it’s just Lesley with Stormy as her hunting hound. Used as one of a few disposal sites for the bodies made by Stormy’s personal hunts. But don’t stray too far, the Firetouched claim part of this for their own.
Plot Hooks: The Firetouched start trying to expand, the cops find out where their perps ended up


The Shops

The doorbell chimed as I stepped inside the discrete corner shop owned by Garath Lane.
“Ah, Miss Aiofe, I was wondering when you’d stop by next.”
I grimaced at my real name.
“Stop calling me ‘Miss’, Garath, it’s creepy.”
He laughed politely. Everything the shady bastard did seemed to be polite.
“So why have you dropped by this fine afternoon?”
“I’m lookin’ to buy somethin’.” I said flatly.
“And what exactly might you be after?” A knowing look crept across his face.
“About seven ounces of silver.”
“That’s gonna be pricy,” Garath’s eyes widened a little, “does it matter what shape it’s in?”
“No, just so long as it’s as pure as you got, and remember who protects your little shop.”
He nodded absently.
“I don’t have so much in stock right now, but I’ll see what I can do, and even on your ‘friends of the family’ discount, this ain’t gonna be cheap.”
“I’ll arrange something.” I said, turning briskly to walk out.
“Can I ask what it’s for?”
I gave him a look over my shoulder and a grin.
“O’course not…”


A den of thieves and other ne’er-do-well’s, the location of the local fence, Garath, and Stormy’s friend, Leo Kennedy. Known simply as ‘the Shops’ to locals, it’s a street you can go to buy, well, almost anything, for the right price.
Plot Hooks: Garath’s shop is in danger of being shut down, Leo causes trouble, the cops find goods that belong to a dead man