New Orleans Greater Metropolitan
Werewolf, Breed: Homid, Auspice: Ahroun, Tribe: Get Of Fenris, Breed form appearance: Hair: Short, blond, Eyes: Blue/grey, Height: 6ft Weight: >300lbs Power lifter's build with sculpted definition. Ruggedly hansom.
Fur in Crinos, Hispo and Lupus forms is dark grey. Crinos form is 9ft tall, hulking and muscular.
Personal Totem is the Ox.
Strength: Homid: 5 Glabro: 7 Crinos: 9 Hispo: 8 Lupus: 6
Dexterity: Homid: 4 Glabro: 4 Crinos: 7 Hispo: 7 Lupus: 6
Stamina: Homid: 4 Glabro: 6 Crinos: 7 Hispo: 7 Lupus: 6
Manipulation: Homid: 2 Glabro: 1 Crinos: 0 Hispo: 0 Lupus: 0
Appearance: Homid: 3 Glabro: 2 Crinos: 0 Hispo: 3 Lupus: 3
Animal Ken: 4
Linguistics: 1 (Speaks English and Japanese)
Master Of Fire
Visage Of Fenris
LEGENDS OF THE GAROU: A Modern Legend In The Making
Tell me lad, has anyone told ye the tail of Maximus “The Wise”? Oh, so the have eh? What about Ayshi the Hakken? “What’s a Hakken?”! Ach! Lad, either ye have no been payin attention or someone has no been teachin ye right. (Sigh) Anyway, I’ll tell ye about Ayshi another time. My point is their stories are what we call ‘Modern Legends’. They’re heroes. NO! No the sandwiches ye little wise ass pup! (Smack!) They’re heroic, ken?! I want to tell ye about the next hero, the next ‘Modern Legend’.
His name is Jonathan Johanson. His story begins typically enough. He had a hard time fittin in as a boy. He also had a hard time controllin his temper. Eventually, his parents found him some “help” but the rage was still there inside.It got worse for him as he got older of course. He decided to build up his body so he could take full advantage of his natural talent for fightin. That way, he could defend himself when others came lookin for trouble. Such trouble often found Jonathan but he always found himself prepared. That is until one night, not long after his eighteenth birthday, when angst and frustration bottled up throughout his teen years, coupled with a primal rage from deep within his very bein, was released by cruel tragedy.
Ye see, the poor lad had come home one evenin from bein out with a friend, one of a small few, and witnessed a site that no one should have to see. It was late and the front door was wide open. Jonathan knew immediately that somethin was wrong. There were strange cars parked out front. This made the lad even more suspicious and concerned. He crept up to the front of the house, takin worried notice of the damaged door frame. The rage swellin within him at the thought of harm comin to his family, the brave lad ventured into the house, past the livin room and the dinin room, toward the den. Jonathan reached the den just in time to see his mother and father murdered in cold blood, execution style. That’s when it happened. He hadn’t been bullied. He wasn’t physically pushed. He was emotionally shoved over the edge. There was pain, a red haze. Aye, just like what happened to you, me and many others since time immemorial.
When Jonathan came to in a park several blocks from his home he was nude and covered and blood that was not his. Then a shadow, cast by the light of a full moon, fell over him. The lad looked up to see a middle aged man, almost as big as Jonathan himself, standin over him. That man was a Get Philodox. He opened the lads eyes to the real world his kinfolk parents, may the spirits keep them, had sheltered him from all those years.
Jonathan was brought here, to the Sept Of The Cleansing Flame where, along with other young pups like yerself, he was taught about the Garou Nation, his tribe to be if he earned it, the Liteny, legends of other shape shifters and our enemies.
Like most Ahroun, Jonathan’s favorite thing was combat trainin and he excelled at it. He had a natural ability to begin with. His teachers just chipped away the rough edges. In time he was out sparin more seasoned warriors. They had to pit against more highly skilled opponents in order to give him a proper work-out and the occasional Elder to keep him in his place. Ha!
Soon, Jonathan and his new friends were ready for their rite of passage. They were so eager! None more so than Jonathan. A Get Cliath was chosen to be their alpha and they formed somethin of a pack. Of course, since they were so unseasoned, no Totem Spirit would have them yet.
Regrettably, Jonathan was the only one to return from his right of passage. He came back wounded and draggin the head of a large beast with him as proof that he did no abandon his pack. He told a story of betrayal that implicated the contacts of an elder. When it was learned that these ‘contacts’ were Ananasi and that the senile old fool arranged for them to be the fledgling pack’s contacts during the mission, the Elder was ‘asked’ to step down from station.
When I have my final hunt, I hope I fair better than he. (Shudders)
Jonathan was accepted as a Get Of Fenris and his former pack-mates were honored as such posthumously. Of course, when some of the Elders gathered a party to send their message of vengeance to the Ananasi and the wyrm, Jonathan whent along to send his.
Hero’s Bard, Elder and Fiana Galliard to a young pup