Grandfather Ripjaw - 'Warrior Walks Alone'

Prelude:

Grandfather is unusual in that he was born with a destiny... one that has not come to light until relatively recently. Mother, or Moon Tears as she was known to the Nation, was a great theurge of the Wendigo people that set out upon a quest to find something that had been lost for far too long: a ritual that she believed could be used to help drive the Wyrmbringer from the lands of the Pure. She set out with a companion, another garou that had worked with her many times in the past.

She returned, unsuccessful in her quest, ripe with child and yet she was dying... It was only through a miracle that the young pup crawled forth, a tiny thing but one that had been marked. They thought that perhaps it was metis, that this creature was marked by the Wyrm. But it was not sickly, only... different. The flesh would move, the form would stretch... changes were happening that should not. Not knowing what this Thing was, they were going to leave it to the snows when the packbrother to the mother, Flight of Arrows, now a wise theurge in his own right, stepped forward and claimed the child.

While Grandfather grew he was mocked by the other pups and derided, not only for his marked lineage, but also for the loss of his mother. For indeed, it seemed that in the place of the wise Moon Tears they were left with this changeling child, this ugly whelp. The truth may not have been far off, for it seemed strange how powerful this child was... While he was indeed ugly to look upon, he seemed to be blessed with strength and stamina. He did not have the control though, often ending up taking foolhardy challenges and hurting others... sometimes rather permanently. It seemed that only Flight of Arrows saw that the young boy, now a young man, was blessed of the Wyld and not of the Wyrm.

In time the elders of the caern and of the settlement came to Flight, demanding that he exile his charge into the snows. Flight instead took the boy with him, choosing exile rather than allowing Grandfather to go alone. Yet, there should not have been such worry... for it seems that even though Grandfather was young, he was strong. In the end, it was the wind spirits that took Flight.

Grandfather worked for many years, never staying with one group for long; for while he was strong, those around him were often not as strong and this was hard for him to remember and to accept. Often he was the only one to return to those that he packed with septs and sang their songs, told their loved ones that they lived and died in honor. Slowly, over the years, Grandfather, while still shunned, had his songs sung as well. His legend grew as he became known as a leader of sorts. Though those that went with him rarely returned, and never whole, again and again, those that went with him did great things and overcame greater obstacles. Grandfather only appeared to be marked with the scars of war, permanent marks of what should have killed him several times over... yet he survived.

The years passed, the decades, almost a century, those around him again and again died. He would try to refuse those around him, knowing their fate, but... he could not stop them. They kept coming. And while his form showed signs of injury and his mood never seemed to grow more grim (hard to overcome perfection) and his (perhaps not so) foolhardy arrogance never seemed to cease, the innermost pain was never seen by others. He became determined to die, that his suffering would end... yet it did not come. It was not "his time".

This was until, of course, he heard of the caern. It was his destiny, it was the place that he would die. The process when he was arrived was simple, the spirits greeted him and told him to take his placee within Amaruk Innusuk.


Concept:

His wounds have permenantly disfigured him, his face a mass of scars and pucked pick skin showing through his thin fur. His final battle scar left his left leg useless, and he spends his time now in silent servitude to the caern. He is simple, he seeks to be alone for he wishes to see no more pain, that those around him will not die. Indeed, it seems strange, for a strange pleasure is in his mind that he now seems to be aging, that his wounds now are slowing him down... for soon, he shall be able to take a much needed rest and rejoin in the sacred beauty of Gaia.

Many lupus have seen generations of kinfolk wolves die around them and thus seek other solutions, often stepping away from the wolf population altogether. Grandfather has seen much the same, but with the garou population. While he remained healthy pack after pack died around him in glorious battle, leaving him the only survivor. While he tried to not allow packs to follow him, they continued to come. This has made him painfully introspective. He tends to see people in terms of pure breed rather than as individuals - who has he had die around him that shared the same face? Another important aspect is that he finally feels that he is about to be released and returned to Gaia after far, far too many people have died around him.



Roleplaying hints:

- Shy away from others - they will only die around you and make the pain greater. It's easy to forget who is around you, far easier to remember who these people are like and how they died. "I remember your grandfather, he died well. You will die well too."
- Be proud of what you have done, but know that too many have died while you have lived. You have done what is necessary and live a great life in honor of their memory.
- Know that you are finally doing what you were meant to do and will return to Gaia soon. While there are times when it would have been easier to come to this point earlier, great things were still done and that is far more important.
- When suggesting courses of actions, think only in what you can/could withstand - which is often far more than the average Garou could. Its too easy to forget what others are capable of.

Suggested Gifts, Merits and Flaws:

- Disfigured, Lame x2, Nightmares, Mark of the Predator


Composed by the AGSA: Tzimisce Societies - Jonathan B Lotzer US2002021620 < societies@tzimisce.co.uk >


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