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Wed, May. 18th, 2005, 09:03 pm
Random Application

So, I often get bored and write applications for GarouMUSH that I'll never use. This is one of them... just felt like posting it. Not even the best one, probably not all that great in general. But thats the point, I think. Just felt like it. Enjoy?


Garou name: Talks-to-Bones (Bonetalker)
Homid name: Coyote Stone
Breed: Homid
Auspice: Philodox
Tribe: Bone Gnawer
Rank: Cliath
Age: 16
Hometown: Waco, Texas

Coyote wasn’t always such a reckless and loud pontificator. There was a time the bootcamp haircut wielding child was a quite timid unwieldy haired introvert. There is something about your abusive father being reduced to blood and broken bone through peeled away skin that changes your outlook on life. His mother, by the name of Betty Bones was also Garou, and far from ‘home’ when Coyote’s first change occurred, didn’t know till returning to that home where her kinfolk mate and child lived. She knew the guy was an asshole, but he seemed to care enough about others to be good enough to raise her child. She would come by every Friday night to check in on her child who never did seem to do much of interest to the woman. His father was the kind that took advantage of the needy, and running the free clinic was the perfect gig for him.

It was not until his twelve birthday that the abuse started. Coyote’s baptism rite failed at birth though he was born under the very center of the waning gibbous moon, and he was thought of as another kinfolk. No one ever seems to blame the ritemaster for a failed ritual of this nature, always the child’s fault for not being what he should be /loud/ enough for the spirits to hear. He never did much get along with spirits later in life either. So often left alone by an adren mother too busy to be there, and beat around for being weak by a father jealous of his wife’s power. He took refuge on his father’s computer when the bastard was at work, which seemed more and more often as time went by.

There Coyote read up on the wonders of the online world. He assimilated as much as he could as quickly as he could. He picked up programming quickly, and became proficient with it in no time. This led to him installing a secret partition of Linux on his clueless father’s computer, to practice hacking as well as just working in that environment. He would even write code by hand at school when he had nothing else to do. Coyote wrote his own website, featuring a rather well put together blog of the woes of his life, and identified with the gothic culture due to the depressing nature of his own life.

He didn’t yet know how bad it was. He didn’t know his father was whoring out helpless women with no one to fend for them, or that he was hording drugs and selling them on the streets. He didn’t know about the back alley abortions he performed that he had no business even attempting, and the bodies of the mothers dumped in the rivers with the failed abortion still half-alive inside of them. It took a spirit of pain to recognize Coyote’s father’s potential and bond with the sociopath to give a real sign of what his father was. This happened a week before Coyote turned sixteen, at first the beatings just stopped. His father often looking confused when he was home, and remaining locked in his bedroom.

A couple of days later, it got bad. His father was sitting in front of the computer when Coyote got home from school. Today was already not a good day for him, he got into a fight at school and from the cuts and bruises around his face it was not a fight that favored Coyote, his rage was piqued and ready to be released. His father was reading an entry of the blog referring to Coyote’s father as ‘a drunken, abusive asshole with no future and no past who deserves to just get it over with and die’. The smile on his father’s face as Coyote walked into the door was beyond horrific, something from Coyote’s dreams. It was no matter, while normally Coyote would cower before his father, and cry to please the sadist till he was done with smacking the boy around, today he would fight back. When his father stood, he knocked over the computer chair… with his barbed bone tail. His face bulged in a sickening fashion, like the skull was suddenly to large for the skin covering it and his teeth were like that of a shark. He had seen beasts this ‘wrong’ in those dreams of his, when he was a wolf chasing them. It didn’t take anything more than this, a voice inside knew and from a fear driven by rage at the father he always hated, he became a frenzy of death.

He awoke to find himself laying naked atop a disgustingly un-natural corpse, a piece of bone sticking awkwardly and painfully into his leg. Looking around the torn apart house, he realized that he could have been here for hours, no one in this neighborhood cared enough about anyone else to risk their own asses in reporting a crime. Then it hit him, he had become something different and his… his father or what he became was broken and dead. He stood, and flinching in an aggravated fashion at the pain in his leg he gripped at the bone and ripped it out. It was Friday, the sun was being pushed out by the night, and his mother would be home soon for her weekly visit from ‘work’ out of town. At first he was going to try to find a way to hide what he did, but something inside again told him it was time to face his mother and learn what all this meant.

The door opened, and rather than freaking out, his mother only blinked. She looked at the monstrosity on the ground with suspicion, and only when sure it was not moving her eyes drifted up to her injured and blood covered son did she lift her hand to her mouth which had dropped open. “Oh, great Gaia, thank you.” She spoke aloud as she watched her boy with a knowing eye. “I knew, I always knew. Its why I kept coming back.” Coyote looked down at the ground, anger coming to him. “You knew?” he nearly growled through a homid throat, then his head snapped up and he screamed with righteous fury at his mother, “What the fuck am I?” His fists clenched at his side and body shaking. “Oh baby, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Calm down, you don’t want to change again, not yet. Quickly, you’re a werewolf. I’m a werewolf. We are the good guys.” She glances quickly at the death upon the ground, “And the person that you once knew as your father was taken by one of the bad guys. But you beat him.” That, is what finally started to calm Coyote down, that he had beat his father. Forever.

Coyote and his mother skipped town after cleaning up the mess as best they could and DCF wrote the boy off as murdered by his own father in an very difficult to solve mystery. Coyote’s cubhood was actually fun. He felt an amazing release in having some real power. He turned from being introverted to a loud mouthed bravo, confident that he would be the best around. He took his beatings and happily came back for more, knowing in the end he would be the better for it. The Goths he once identified with no longer held much meaning for him, but having once associated with them it helped him in not pre-judging others based on looks or tastes, a detail that helped greatly with both being a Bone Gnawer and a Philodox. He was at home among the Gnawers, and he was good at the tasks given to him, to a fault. He progressed so quickly that he felt while he could already succeed at most of the tasks he had been handed, without failure he never had the chance to really grow.

His rite of passage came three months later in the form of a trial he would play judge in. A Cliath Gnawer was charged with murder of a Fostern Silent Strider who was called Uncle to the Gnawers. The evidence was there in the form of a broken bit of claw in the murdered’s skull, blood stains found on the charged’s clothing, and on both wounds that fit a fight between two crinos. The real ‘judge’ was an honored philodox called simply, Justice, who easily could detect the lies of others, it was rumored that even to boast around him, even while he slept, would earn you a whupping. A kinfolk accused the charged Garou due to finding him above the murdered Garou’s body, the charged contents he fought off a kind of fomori or materialized spirit that had killed the Strider. The judge, rather than using his gift to tell truth from lie decided to have this be the cub’s test.

Coyote examined the evidence, and quickly deduced that a materialized spirit would not have left behind the claw. He realized also, that all the blood about the two was good ol’ fashioned red blood, nothing strange about it. Coyote questioned the accused about what the second litany tenet meant to him. His answer referred to the need to never let a creature of the Wyrm be suffered to live, focused on the mercy of a granted death. He let the accused tell the story once more, and this time he picked up on something important. The description of the foe, it was tall and wiry with claws and fangs of bone. Coyote flashed a picture of his father in his head, and shuddered a moment. He asked more questions about the attacker and the description revealed was too close to Coyote’s memory for comfort. He walked over to examine the ‘claw’ left behind once more and looking at it closer he saw that, though small, it was the wrong color to be but a claw. It was indeed bone. He judged the accused’s stories true and declared him innocent of the charge of murder.

The true judge agreed with the cub’s decision and welcomed him to the ranks of the Garou with the name ‘Talks-to-Bones’. Coyote’s first fight as a Cliath was in tracking down the murdering fomori, that while different was close enough to what his father ad become to incite frenzy in him once more, and he was a glorious beast of battle among his allies, finally feeling he truly belonged to a family.

The road from home to St. Claire was not his choice. He didn’t even know much about St. Claire when he was sent there by the Papa among the Gnawers. All he knew was that the Gnawers there needed a larger presence and he was going to be a part of that. Apparently it would do to broaden his horizons, everyone was getting something out of this. He resigned to his fate, deciding that he best try to enjoy the change.