San Francisco by Night
Spiritu Requiem
Since the age of 5 he trained in the Martial Arts. His skills were unmatched by beginning students and he was placed in an excelled class. A great honor in Japan. Practicing his skill with his peers six hours a day after schooling, the dojo in which he lived was strict. Aside from those 6 hours he also spent two under the private tutelage of Master Matoma. Master Matoma would teach him useless things such as using slashing maneuvers. Useless unless he got a pair of eagle claws to use, he made the suggestion and Matoma always denied him access to advanced weapjns, saying that he one day would be all the weapon he c*uld ever need. He was never far from Master Matomas sight. It was in one of these private lessons when he shifted for the first time. Matoma had been ready and had him incapacitated quickly. How Matoma knew he never knew. Now the slashing and clawing maneuvers fit. With his new abilities he could Assume a form where the slashing and clawing could do optimal damage. At the age of 12 he walked into the event that would change his life forever. He was returning from a hunt and walked into it. A pack of 150 or so BSDs assaulted his cairn, frozen in fear and terror, unable to do anything, he sat hidden and watched as they destroyed his family, his pack, and his home. With his mind shattered he ran. When his memory came to, he was in a Get of Fenris medical room. He remembered nothing of his past, only what he is and what happened that day. The scene is etched into his mind. All he has left from his home is a lone fetish. Instead of travelling to the nearest StarGazer camp, he decided to stay with the get. Known for violence, they could teach him what he needed to learn, vengence. He had to abandon himself and his beliefs to find himself. Yet that abandonment left him guilty, empty. So in an act to bring himself back he got his tattoo's The pain of getting them and the pain of their symbolism keeps him sane. One pain temporary, one will stay with him forever. The glyphs on his shoulder for the family he lost. The falcon across his back for what he must do. And the near-glyph over his eye for what he is. Their sickly-sweet reminders keep him alive and drive him onward. Onward to what...not even he can say. He has lived his new name and new life to search for the old. Spiritu Requiem Latin for Spirit resting. The eternal rest.
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