Backgrounds

Ancestors:(2)
Mentor: (2)
Pure Breed: (1)
Resources: (1)
Kinfolk: (1)

Merits:
Ancestor Ally: (1) Jack-Of-All-Trades: (3) Notable Heritage: (2) Common Sense: (1)

Flaws:
Inferiority Complex: (1)

Willpower: 6/6
Rage: 4/4
Gnosis: 1/1
Harano: 0/3

Glory: 2
Honor: 0
Wisdom: 1

Master of Fire (1), Spirit Speech (1), Beast Speech (1)

Greet The Sun (Minor)
Greet The Moon (Minor)

Homid: (Breed Form)
Glabro: Str:+2 (4), Sta:+2 (5), App:-1 (2), Man:-1 (0) Diff:7
Crinos: Str:+4 (6), Dex:+1 (4), Sta:+3 (6), App:0, Man:-3 (0) Diff:6 [Incites Delirium In Humans]
Hispo: Str:+3 (5), Dex:+2 (5), Sta:+3 (6), Man:-3 (0) Diff:7
Lupus: Str:1 (3), Dex:+2 (5), Sta:+2 (5), Man:-3 (0) Diff:6

Standing six feet tall in the soft, Sika deer boots that his mother Red Thunder Woman, and his paternal Ainu aunt made him, Chaska Voices-of-Storm Decorah-Anchikar resembles his late father in all save his eye color and skin tone. His russet-flecked shoulder-length hair and immaculately maintained beard are black, his skin a dusky copper hue. His eyes are a magnificent hazel-gold, betraying the Garou blood in both his mother's Lakota family and the Ainu relations of his father, originally from the island of Sakhalin. Leanly muscled, and roughly a hundred and sixty-five pounds in Homid form. As he shifts form, the red in his dark hair grows more noticeable, until, in his Crinos, Hispo and Lupus shapes it forms a serpentine band of ruddy-speckled guard hairs. Said band of hairs runs from the center of his forehead, along his spine, and terminates in a crimson tuft at the tip of his bottle-brush of a tail.

Highly intelligent and thoughtful. An exemplary young craftsman, with a deep-seated inferiority complex because of the increasing pressure placed on him by his Theurge Great-Grandfather and mentor Voices-That-Carry, others of his Tribe, those that share his Auspice, and the Ancestor-Spirit of the Uktena Songkeeper Silent-Storm who seems so interested in his growth. He longs to discover more about his family history, in all of its aspects: Kinfolk, and Garou. Not a Glory hound, but not immune to chasing it, he feels that regardless of his deeds he will never be able to live up to his ancestor's legacy. In this, he shows potential for great Wisdom, despite falling that part of his Rite of Passage.

What are you staring at? Oh, of course, It's always the eyes they notice first. Sumanitu Taka Ista, Wolf's Eyes my mother called them. Here, sit, and let me tell you a story…after all, I'll never get better at it without practice…and you won't let me finish this prototype until I do. My earliest memory is of my mother singing the sacred songs of her people, the Teton Lakota, the tribe whites call Sioux. She had run away to the big city, met and married my father, forgetting the ways of our people… Grandfather Voices That Carry, a Wichasha Wakan, or holy man, a Spirit-Talker of the Uktena tribe, my mother's grandfather, and his pack brought us home to Íŋyaŋ Woslál Háŋ…Standing Rock Reservation. Even then, I think Grandfather knew I would Change…when I was twelve, my mother came home to find him teaching me the old stories of how the Lakota came to be, and how our blood was Kin to Elder and Younger Brother. It was from the legends of the tribe that my various given names were drawn…Grandfather named me Skyhawk on the fourth day after my birth, for the lost totem spirit of the Uktena. My mother's younger sister called me Wolf Eyes…but I liked best the name my mother, called Mary Decorah by the outside world and Red Thunder Woman by our people, gave me. She named me Chaska…Eldest Son in Lakota. Why such an unassuming moniker? Well, like most things with Uktena there are hidden layers of meaning. the traditional understanding of descent from Elder Brother is the most obvious…but the surname the teachers of the reservation school gave my mother's father Edward Red Thunder translates as snake or serpent, which makes me Eldest Son of the Evening Serpent…Grandfather thought that a delightfully clever thing indeed. Where does the Evening come from? Anchikar, of course. No, it's not a Lakota word. I see a thought biting at your tongue… My father? He's Ainu, his great grandfather was awarded the Order of the Golden Kite for bravery during the Russo-Japanese war… No Kite the bird of Prey, not the thing you go fly on a windy day! They were Kin, but so far removed from their Garou relatives that my father never knew about it. His grandfather kept a few precious articles of Ainu design, even as his family assimilated into Japanese culture… How did an Ainu wind up in America? Well if you stop interrupting, I'll tell you. Udani Sato, my Ainu paternal grandfather was captured by the Allies during World War Two. In exchange for asylum in the United States, he gave them valuable intelligence on the movements of the Japanese Kamikaze pilots… They are and were tenacious as bears, my Ainu relatives. Udani had been more or less forced to become Japanese and now, at thirty-eight he adapted again…became an American. Since soldiering was in the blood, it was a foregone conclusion that my father Aetui would join the army. He, to his eternal shame, was never as distinguished as his own father and spent most of my earliest childhood in one war or another. Operation Inherent Resolve was the only one I know for sure… What?! My degree is in folklore, not military history. My mom, perhaps trying to make up for dad's being gone, sent me to some high-brow boarding school while she and a team of tribal lawyers used tribal sovereignty laws to establish the Standing Rock Finance Corporation or SRFC. Yes, that's where my stipend checks come from each month. They use part of the money to send the kids on the remains of the Great Sioux Reservation to college and provide a small bit of money for our Garou cousins. When I wasn't learning fencing or feeding goats or spending my days avoiding rich kids who mocked me for my long hair and the beaded medicine bag Grandfather Voices-That-Carry had given me, warning me not to open it, I was reading voraciously. Yes, of course, I opened the bag! I was eleven that fall and I was curious…No, I'm not going to tell you what's inside! The beadwork? Well, it's the Great Uktena, of course, and the Skyhawk above him, may her Slumber be peaceful. Those symbols stand for the Seven Council Fires of the Oyate…the Nation. The rest is meant to protect the leather from wear. According to my grandfather, that pouch was made by my ancestor in the eighteen-eighties and handed down through the family. For five years I spent my life immersed in a place that gave me nightmares of a stern-looking man trying to force feed me soap and shouting “Never Speak Indian Agan, Ever!” I got into fights with the troubled sons of rich tycoons and was beaten severely by one boy called, I shit you not, Aloysius Johnston the Third. When Grandfather picked me up for the summer, he offered to have some of his packmates “handle” it. Turned out the kid's dad was in bed with some Wyrm-ridden offshoot of…oh, Gaia's Teats, I can't remember…some big conglomerate or other. Starts with a P. Mot that Grandfather was any easier to handle. He was bound and determined that I was going to Change, and each summer that passed without it made him harder to live with. I asked mom why he was so mad at me, and she hugged me tight and told me the story of her father, Grandfather's only son. My mother's father was an exceptional Kinfolk…one of a precious few with Gnosis. He ran around with a mixed bag of Wendigo, Uktena, and Wyrmcommer Garou who had bitten off more than they could chew taking on a Leech. To save his friends' lives, Edward Red Thunder offered to serve the monster if he let them go. He gained the creature's trust, bided his time for three months, and then let the Leech think he wanted to become like him. Just as he sank his fangs into Red Thunder's neck, his friends attacked. But the damage was already done. My mom had tears in her eyes as she told me what came next. They killed the monster and brought the body of Edward Red Thunder back to be buried. When he rose again as a vampire, Grandfather Voices-That-Carry was proud of his courage. Red Thunder tied a rawhide tether to sagebrush and then to a post sunk into the ground. Weak and ravenous for blood, he thrust two heavy bone skewers into the dead meat and bone of his chest and began to dance the Sun Dance, which had not been performed in years. Grandfather watched him dance even as he burned in the light of Wi, the Sun. “I am not what that Thing has made me… I am Lakota. I will live and Die as Lakota!” So my grandfather spoke, dancing in the light of the sun until his body charred to leather and sticks. What remained was burned, the ashes purified and scattered to the four directions. For that, the Garou called him Red Thunder-Dances-With-Sun…one of the few kin so honored. I see you staring at the scars… Yes, you're entitled to ask, I suppose. Let me tell you about my First Change…first. Well, some of the kids on the Rez weren't kin. That was normal enough. But, one out-of-town fellow was bothering my cousin Water Lily. I got in a fight and won…if you don't count the broken arm. While my mother clucked in sympathy, my father, home on furlough, made a drunken comment that Water Lily was a hussy who “had it coming,” and that I needed to “cut my hair, take off that grubby beaded bag and be a normal kid who lived in the real world.” I hit him…He hit me…and next thing I know I was a hulking Crinos-form Garou with my father shaking on the floor, blood streaming down his cheek while my mother stood between us, running soothing hands through my fur. “He is your father, my Chaska. No matter how wrong, he is your father. If you love me do him no more harm.” I was seventeen…and Garou. Grandfather was over the moon. Dad and I had a bit of a mending fences moment, which included him giving me the Ainu ceremonial shortsword that had belonged to his grandfather…the same one I copied when we went to Hokkaido for a month-long vacation. Yes, mine IS sharp. I need it for worse things than evil spirits. Dad even shelled out the dough to have a freaking katana-master teach me the basics. Which meant hitting the metal as directed and feeding the fire for three days straight. By the time I graduated high school, through a correspondence course, Grandfather thought I ought to begin training for my Rite of Passage. I was twenty-three before he and the Elders thought I was ready. The Rite of Passage they set me consisted of three trials. Wisdom, Honor, and, of course, Glory. For Wisdom, Grandfather and his pack took me deep into the Umbra near Wounded Knee and left me there. I was to hold my Rage at bay, no matter what was done to me. Then, I was ambushed by Seventh Calvary and our people who died there. Well, I thought I was at least. Everything but the Umbra itself was the result of mystical rites particular to the Uktena. I butchered them, my Rage getting the better of me. I failed that part of the test…But I passed on Honor and Glory. Yes, this Does have something to the scars. Honor was a series of puzzles and agonizing logical scenarios both from other Garou and from a double fistful of spirits Grandfather had arranged beforehand. Big or small, Highest ranked Elder or the spirit of a little dead leaf that fell from a tree, I had to address them correctly, politely, and make an honest attempt to answer their questions. That was hard because some of said elders can be outright dicks. But I passed Yes, I'm going to tell you about the scars! It was the Test of Glory. Grandfather and a visiting Galliard called Castigates-The-Wyrm…it's a fifty-cent word that means to rebuke or punish…look, If you want this story finished tonight, stop cutting in. So Castigates and my great grandfather took me to a place in the Umbra that was basically a snapshot or living film-reel of the Wild West. Then, after introducing me to a few spirits, they pierced my chest on either side, fastened me to the Sun Dance pole, and left. If I was a Garou it should have healed fine, right? See, here's the thing… those skewers were from an Uktena who went dark…led the Dancers to a Caern in New Mexico. They captured him alive and used some Rite Grandfather wouldn't talk about…turned his bones to silver and watched them burn him alive from the inside out. The spirit of White Buffalo Woman gave us the Sun Dance…but as far as I know, I'm the only living Uktena to undergo this particular version of the Rite of Passage. Dancing, always dancing, Sunup to sundown. Staring into the sun, moving with the sun, Twisting, pulling, tugging at the tether…Trying to rip the silver through my skin. Now, this would have been easy, but Grandfather had been very specific. With every hand of the sun's movement across the Umbral sky, I was to change forms to burn through the fires of my Rage. You cannot imagine. Homid, Glabro, Crinos, Hispo, Lupus, and then Homid again. Over and over, after fasting and sweating for four days. Cycling through our forms, silver burning, slowly healing and burning again. At last, when they gave way, I looked up to see a rattlesnake as long as a river and thick as the trunk of an oak tree. It had a single eye of cold iron in the center of its forehead, and scales of glass. A foul, reeking, ophidian Thing. And I killed it. I sprang onto its back and bit chunks from its spine. My claws raked it from head to tail. I scratched it, bit it, clawed it, and still, it lived. So, I sank my claws into its spine and Stepped Sideways. I found myself grappling with a youth of about my age, his cyclopean eye filled with madness. Grandfather produced a silver knife and shoved it into my hand. “Sometimes Grandchild, claws and fangs are not enough. Even the mightiest of us must not stand alone.” His golden eyes met mine. “That creature is too far gone to save, Takoja. Kill it.” That, my friend, was how I passed the Trial of Glory and earned the right to truly be Uktena. So, you want to know how I left the Rez and came to Florida of all places? Well, that's an interesting story… Grandfather had decided to send me to learn with others of our tribe, saying that his role as my mentor would not end, but that I must “learn what Hanwi (that's Luna to you non-Lakota,) reserves for the Moon Dancers alone.” The night I was packing to leave, my mother and father came, along with other Kinfolk families. Turns out Grandfather wanted to make a big production of it. Mom and my dad's sister had spent the time I was away spinning elm bark into fiber and tanning supple deerskins. They'd made me an Ainu Attush and the leggings and boots to match. Mother had beaded the hem and sleeves to match the medicine bag. Dad had made a Japanese-inspired sheath for my shortsword, paying a friend who was good at carving to replicate the Garou glyphs for Galliard, Glory, and Wisdom… and a beautiful Ainu Sapanpe, a headband made from woven Crimson Glory Vine bark. At the center was a hand-painted Uktena effigy, complete with miniature fangs and horns. “I might not have been the best father, Chaska. But, I Am proud of the man you have become…” “I was never a Man, Dad. I am, and always have been, Garou. But…thanks for…whatever this is…” “A Sapanpe. It's a ceremonial crown. Your Grandad gave me it when I told him you were having your manhood rites. The old effigy was long gone, so that friend of your mom's made this to replace it.” He smiled, the scars I'd left on his cheek tugging his lip up into a sardonic smirk. I'd swore then that I'd never forget what my Rage had almost cost me. Still, I had made my great grandfather smile, which his packmates assured me had not happened since the day I'd been born. “He'll break his face if he keeps it up,” cackled the Heyoka…oh, Fine, the Ragabash Pearl “Laughs-In-The-Face-of-Banes” Archer. But, like most good things on this beautiful earth, such joy was inevitably doomed to end. A passel of Banes swarmed somewhere out at the furthest edges of the Bawn. The three Standing Rock packs, twenty-one or so Garou…and myself were kept busy over the next thirty-six hours. Too late we learned it was just a diversion. My father, Gaia help me had a Bane coiled up inside him, and somehow, none of us noticed. I'm not going to tell you some of the things he did…but by the time we returned, there was no saving my father. “You've lost, Wolfling. Thy sire is mine.” “So be it. Better he dies by my hand than be your shell, monster.” Stop looking at me like that! Even if the elders Had a way to exorcise the Wyrmish spirit, it was already too late for my Dad. We fought, the Fomor cackling like a barnyard rooster. “He has the blood of the Serpent in his veins, little Cliath. Your whole line…” It was at that moment that the voice of Silent-Storm spoke through me… The Songkeeper's voice and mine formed a melodious harmony that left some of the most clever Sept elders gaping at us like untutored cubs. “I Serve Gaia and Great Uktena, Wretch! Your poisoned words have no power here.” I turned, eyes blazing, towards my relatives. “Have you not fangs and claws?! Is the Rage in your breast smothered by Harano?! There the Wyrm's mockery of life festers…in the heart of our own blood-kin. Will you leave this creature to a raw Cliath, and curse the pup forever as a Kin-Slayer?” Laughs-In-The-Face-of-Banes was the first to point out that thunder and heat lightning roared through the sky above us. Still, the voice of some Garou champion from the eighteen hundreds coming out of my mouth was probably what caused them to hesitate. Shifting into Crinos, I glared down at the Fomor that was once Aetui Anchikar, my father, snarling my words in the High Tongue to compensate for the shape of my fanged jaws. “Tell your master this, Wyrmspawn: You only Think that my sacrifice was a stalemate. But this cub is my voice. The Silent Storm is Silent No Longer!” Yes, I killed it. One swipe of my claws across the neck. After that, going to Starke Florida to learn from my tribemates there…merciful Gaia, going Anywhere to escape the sorrow in my mother's eyes seemed like a relief. That night earned me the name Voices-of-Storm. It honors Voices-That-Carry, as my great grandfather and mentor, and the voices that spoke through me…my own and that of Silent-Storm. He's…I'm still working out How, exactly, but he's my ancestor…or something like that. I'll have to do more research on that one…Of course, it has been a hundred and thirty-odd years, so It's a reason to swap tales with other Moon Dancers. Running moon bridges from South Dakota to Florida was rough on the legs, even when you're in decent shape… Eh, two legs or four, doesn't matter. Though, I'm still getting used to the wolf thing. That's tricky, being Homid, but I'll make plenty of notes for future reference. Words and even glyphs don't always capture the sense of a thing. Rumor has it that the Lupus Moon Dancers have this way of packing a lifetime's worth of story into a single howl… That's something worth hearing, even if I can't measure up to someone like Silent-Storm…I'll bet He could've pulled that off easily. What, the hiking staff? My grandfather made it after his First Change. It's how Uktena appeared to him during his Rite of Passage. Yeah, those are real antlers. Roe deer from Europe. The wood is oak, I think. Well, I gave you what you asked for. You come in the middle of a very delicate forging process and conned me into talking about my own story. I hope whatever you have in exchange is worth my time…

Freebies 16 Freebie Points (15)(+1 from Flaw(s)) 7 Points to Merits 4 Points to Abilities (1 dot in Athletics and Brawl at 2 points each) 2 Points to Backgrounds (Added one dot to my initial dot of Ancestors, and one dot in Kinfolk at one point each) 3 Points to Willpower (raising it from an initial value of three to six)

Equipment:
Battered Leather duffle bag containing:

1. -one crumpled dress shirt, slacks, and matching blazer
2. -assorted t-shirts and jeans
3. -notebooks, sketchbooks, pens, and drafting pencils
4. -one Japanese Tamahagane Dog-head forging hammer bearing the touchmark of Yoshindo Yoshihara
5. -Dog-eared paperback copy of “The Art of the Pattern-Welded Blade” by Jim Hrisoulas. Copiously annotated.
6. -State and Tribal Identification cards
7. -Ainu Elm Bark Attush (Robe)
8. -Ainu Sapanpe (Ritual Headband)
9. -Sika Deer leather boots

– Hand-carved oak walking stick – Ainu-inspired shortsword in replica sheath. (Wakizashi in design, with snakeskin- patterned red leather grip.) Mostly ceremonial…but still sharp, just in case. –Antique Beaded Deerskin medicine bag depicting Uktena and Skyhawk. (Circa 1890, containing:)

1. -Thirteen pebbles inscribed with a Tribal Glyph (One for each of the thirteen tribes of the Garou Nation)
2. - a bundle of cedar twigs, bound with sinew
3. -Half of an Adena willow-leaf knife blade (Flint, still Exceedingly sharp)
4. -A palm-sized pyrite nodule
5. -The left canine tooth of Crinos-Form Garou
6. -The, Thumbnail-sized, blue-black scale of an Uktena (Not Usable as a Fetish, as the original owner is long since dead.)