Name: Sarah Ramus
Player: ~DR
Sex: Female
Age: 19
Concept: Spiritual Vigilante
Virtue: Justice
Vice: Pride
Auspice: Rahu
Tribe: Bone Shadows
Lodge:
Attributes: Intelligence 3, Strength 3 [4/6/5/-], Presence 2, Wits 2, Dexterity 2 [-/3/5/4], Manipulation 1 [1/NA/1/-], Resolve 2, Stamina 3 [4/5/5/4], Composure 3.
Skills: Academics 0, Computer 1, Crafts 1, Investigation 0, Medicine (Minor injuries 1) 2, Occult 2, Politics 0, Science 1, Athletics 1, Brawl 2, Drive (Motorcycles 1) 2, Firearms 1, Larceny 0, Stealth 1, Survival 2, Weaponry 2, Animal Ken 0, Empathy (Understanding 1) 3, Expression 0, Intimidation (Don’t make me count to… 1) 1, Persuasion 0, Socialize 0, Streetwise 0, Subterfuge 0.
Merits: Fetish (Klaive 4), Fetish (Mercy Gem 2) Quick Draw, First Tongue
Flaws: Protectorate (Little Sister), Superficial Scar (starting from the right side of the neck and stretching across her back to her hip on the opposite side)
Health: 8 [10/12/11/-]
Size: 5 [6/7/6/4]
Speed:10 [11/14/17/15]
Initiative: 5 [-/6/7/7]
Defense: 2 [-/2/2/2]
Armor: 1/0 [-/(1/1)/0/0]
Willpower: 5 (5)
Essence: 7
Primal Urge: 1 (10/1)
Harmony: 7
Renown: Purity 1, Glory 0, Honor 1, Wisdom 1, Cunning 0
Gifts (1): (1) Clarity, Sense Malice
Rites (1): (1) Rite of the Spirit Brand, Shared Scent
Equipment: Mercy Gem ([b]Werewolf: The Forsaken[/b], pg 206). Light Pistol (+2, 17+1, 20/40/80, Size 1, stolen), Reinforced leather coat (1/0), Dedicated set of clothing. Klaive. Motorcycle (Street Bike: Durability 2, Size 7, Structure 9, Acceleration 20 [27mpr/turn], Safe Speed 88 [60 mph], Max Speed 183 [125 mph], Handling 5, Occupants 1+1)
Bladed Shelter: Klaive Great Sword (+4 Lethal).

This Fetish weapon is as much shield as sword. Designed to be defensive as well as offensive, the Klaive’s main ability is to grant additional defense to the user by getting in the way of incoming attacks. Granting the yielder with extra sensory awareness of incoming attacks from all sides.

The sword is nearly five feet long from base to tip. The hilt is a combination of a cutlass or lance in that it covers and protects the sword hand from damage. This is extensive as the hilt functions as a shield as well, with a large surface area for deflecting attacks (no actual Defense or Armor Modifier however). The blade is slightly concavely curved, with circular notches in parts of the double-sided blade. Melding with the blade, the hilt curves its shape into that of the notched blade, making for a dynamic vision of protection and death.

First Tongue glyphs are etched into the blade, starting at the tip and running along the middle of the blade until the blade merges with the hilt. At that point the hilt is littered with runes, weaving a complicated yet subtle tale of patience, forgiveness, and protection through the sword.
Activation: Harmony – Rank of Fetish (4) or 1 Essence.
Action: Reflexive.
Effect: For every 2 Successes Rolled, add +1 to Defense Rating for the duration of Combat.
Restriction: Can only use the Klaive once every other combat, UNLESS used in the protection of someone close to her.
Current Experience: 1/5
History: Sarah’s life wasn’t nice to her. Her mother was aloof and distant, leaving her in the hands of her depressed and alcoholic father. She hated her mother, and her father for much of her young life, spending as much time away from home as she could manage. Her temper grew, becoming the tom-boy of the neighborhood, she learned how to fight and held her own against some of the toughest kids in the slums. Sarah didn’t have anyone to look after but herself, but that didn’t stop her from protecting others who needed it.

She grew up to be somewhat of a bad kid, staying out late, getting into fights (and winning) due to her temper, and ignoring her father whenever possible. This didn’t stop him from beating her, and they only got worse when she fought back. Every time she got a little better though. At thirteen, her mother came home one day and told her father she was pregnant. Sarah couldn’t believe it! Her disappearing mother and irresponsible father were having another kid?! This didn’t make sense!

Avoiding her parents, she watched as her mother had constant visits from “friends of the family” while her father locked himself up in his den with his piles of beer cans. She snarled at them every time she saw them. Her stomach always twisted with nausea when they came, so she learned to expect them when the nausea hit. Of course her father claimed it was her period or some other stupid excuse, but Sarah knew that wasn’t it. They where the reason.

Her mother started to become heavy in her pregnancy, and refused to go to a hospital. They came to help as she went into labor. Sarah leaned against the wall next to the door. She could hear her mother’s screams as the baby was being born and she questioned her own existence and why her mother never had time for her, only coming home when it suited her. Her thoughts were broken by the sound of a baby’s cry and the door opened. One of them looked down at her, staring into her and causing her to freeze.

“She wants to see you…” was all he said.

He held the door open as Sarah walked inside. Even before she came inside she could smell the blood and fluids from the baby being born. In the back, resting on a propped up bed was her mother, holding a small squirming infant in her hands under a blood-stained blanket.

“Come see…” she said softly and with more love than Sarah had seen all her life. “This is your sister… Abigail.”

Sarah was shocked. She had a sister now: a small, fragile, squirming sister.

Over the next five years, Sarah spent her time protecting her little sister Abigail. From the neighborhood kids to her father, she did all she could to protect her. Even when she couldn’t be there directly she felt the urge to rush back and deal with whatever might befall her sister. Her father, however was growing more and more temperamental at the same time, mentally unstable he would throw things without warning and mumble about wolves or some other nonsense.

On a bright night illuminated by the full moon, everything changed. Sarah came home from work (hell, someone had to pay for food and gas and her bike), which had already been a stressing day, nearly pushed to the brink by stupid customers and some of the employees hitting on her. She had sent one home with a broken arm and was fired. She was walking up the steps to the house when Sarah heard a crash.

Running up the stairs she burst inside the front door to find her little sister huddled against the wall, glass on the floor around her, their father was standing in the middle of the living room, with another bottle in his hand.

Sarah demanded an explanation but her father just started yelling nonsense towards her. He went to strike Abigail again and Sarah intervened, getting slammed back and breaking the door. Their father raised his hand up to strike Abigail as Sarah watched, the Rage building inside her, demanding release, demanding vengeance against her father.

Before their father could swing his arm down, it went flying off as Sarah’s Gauru jaws had bit through the elbow.

Sarah doesn’t remember what happened that night. Her next memory is awakening naked except for the shreds that once were her work clothes. But what disturbed her was that her mother was here with her “friends” and she didn’t feel the nausea that accompanied their visits. Her sister was crying in her mother’s arms, blood covering her, their mother, the walls, and Sarah herself.

She demanded answers, but wasn’t prepared for them. She was a werewolf, just like her mother and with her First Change had managed to do something she could not do before: beat her father. His corpse had been shred to pieces by the new Rahu in her Rage. Now she had nothing left here, but Abigail. The “others” members of her mother’s pack ushered her to get what few personal items she had and prepare to leave. The house was no longer safe for the pack to use and they also had Sarah and her sister to worry about.

Sarah demanded information about what was going on, and her mother relinquished it, although half-heartily. The new Rahu upon hearing some of her mother’s stories felt like the pit of her stomach had dropped out. Spirits? Beings that like to toy with humans? Sarah wanted to know more. Not for her sake, but for the sake of her sister, her mother be damned if she starts to see an interest in her now of all times in her life! These Spirits… seemed inhuman but oddly enough natural. So she told her mother what she was going to do, join a tribe that specializes in the Spirit side of the Gauntlet: the Bone Shadows. Her mother just grinned at the idea.

Sarah’s initiation was going to be hard. Spirits are more aggressive under the light of the full moon. And if she truly wished to join the Bone Shadows, then she had to give it everything she had. Even then the ritualist was vague on the terms of the initiation: go into the Hishil and prove your worth.

This entire thing was crap. Sarah used the nearest loci the pack had access to and went through her initiation.

She planned on beating the snot out of the first spirit she found and bringing the body back to the pack and spit in their face. She found her prey, a spirit that was paying attention to something else. Closing in she lunged for the spirit and proceeded to fight it.

Even with her skills as a fighter and new-found abilities the spirit was proving to be more trouble than it was worth! She continued to push herself to try and beat it, to try and show her mother that she never needed her. But the spirit was too much and she was knocked back, bleeding from her arms, legs, and a head injury or two. Standing was a problem because her legs had given out. She looked up at the spirit, defiance in her eyes, but something else caught her eye. Behind the spirit, huddled amongst the rocks and rubble were several smaller versions of the spirit: its offspring.

Sarah hung her head. Her own bull-headed stubbornness got her into this mess and it was going to get her killed by this spirit. She could hear it coming closer with ever foot step.

“Go ahead,” she mumbled. “Kill me. I deserve it. My fight wasn’t with your kids, it was with you… for the wrong reasons.”

The spirit stopped. Puzzled by what the Uratha had said. The concepts were there through the language barrier however. She had given up. Lost the will to fight. But why? It looked back at its spirit offspring and then at the Uratha awaiting death. Taking a clawed hand it gently tipped Sarah’s head up so it could look in her eyes. Using its own form of telepathy it was able to understand the emotions the Rahu was feeling: Mixtures of shame, pride, anger at herself, love for another.

It broke the link and let the Rahu sit there for a minute before it dug its claws deep into her back. Sarah howled at the pain, her eyes wide. But the spirit didn’t kill her. Instead it said something… something that she somehow understood without training.

“Let this remind you, of what you must protect…” and the spirit left with its litter, leaving the bleeding Uratha to stumble back to the loci.

Death Wolf accepted her, and the pack proceeded to clean her wounds and heal her as a fellow Tribe member. Sarah’s injuries were severe, but not life threatening. She did retain one mark from the spirit that will never go away. A long scar from her left hip up to the right side of her neck. Her mother traced the mark, using it as the source of her Renown to the Crescent Moon Choir.

Sarah spent the days healing from the encounter with the spirit, keeping Abigail close. She had to escape this pack. Get Abigail out of danger and somewhere safe. There was her bike for one, Sarah was pretty sure she could use it and get out of the city fairly quickly. Her mother would not treat Abigail the way she had treated Sarah. But even then, Sarah was unnerved with how much attention her mother was paying her now. She had received more attention in the last three days than her whole life! This was offsetting. A woman she had grown to hate for her absence was now trying to make her every waking moment devoted to her werewolf daughter… while ignoring the other.

She couldn’t stand for this, and decided to take Abigail and get the hell away from her mother.

Under the cover of night Sarah snuck Abigail away from her mother. All was going well until she started up her motorcycle. The whole pack became alerted to her leaving and tried to stop her. Sarah gunned the engine and never looked back, taking with her the items given to her after her initiation into the Bone Shadows.

She drove for hours, and only stopped once to fuel up the bike and continue on. Finally a good distance away she took Abigail to a road-side dinner where the two finally got a meal. The food was good… until Sarah realized she didn’t have any money to pay. The owners enraged were about ready to call the police until a strange man paid for their tab for them.

Untrusting, Sarah questioned him. Kindness was something she was unaccustomed to. He offered her a proposition, a place to stay and possibly some comrades she could call upon… to help her and protect the young one. She looked at Abigail who had fallen asleep from the meal, then asked “Where?”

The man gave her directions to a place outside of Denver known as “Riley’s Peak” and said that he would meet her there provided she accepted the offer.

Sarah looked at the directions and made her decision.
Physical Description: Sarah is tall for a girl, about 5’11”. She is thin, lightly built, but able to hold her own in a fight. Her dress code mimics her life on the highway, with a thick leather coat, light shirt underneath, and a pair of jeans. Sarah’s hair is long and dark brown, with some red highlights, that stretches down to her mid-back. In her other shape-shift forms the fur coloration seems to turn a lighter shade of brown. The exception is Gauru which has an odd coloration of her dark brown and light brown hair, resembling some cryptic coloration. From her initiation, she retains a scar starting from her left hip, going diagonally up her back and finally tapering off on the right side of her neck. It is a scar she wears with a combination of pride and shame and lets no one see it if she can manage it.

She keeps some items from her tribal initiation tied into her hair as well as hanging around her neck as a necklace. Sarah keeps some items in her pants pockets, and keeps her gun sitting in the back of her pants, ready to draw it should the firepower prove necessary.
Personality: Sarah’s personality boarders from nurturing to raging frenzy against anyone who even glances at Abigail the wrong way. She puts her sister’s safety far ahead of her own and even has a tendency to push herself to exhaustion just so long as Abigail is healthy and safe. She’s distrusting of everyone and tries to keep everyone (but her sister) as emotionally distant as possible to avoid hurting herself. Over time, she may learn to trust the others, but that’s not likely right now. Sarah is especially distrusting of anything coming from the Shadow. Their unpredictable nature could mean the downfall of the entire pack and Abigail’s safety, something she is not willing to risk.

Despite this, she knows better than to just tear apart spirits on sight. Spirits can be bartered with, fought with, and destroyed if necessary. But to go killing everything could mean her mother can find her faster and Death Wolf would disapprove. She’ll have to watch her step through her territory, walking the fine line between protecting her sister, and protecting the Shadow. Hopefully her pack can help her with that.
Storyteller Notes: Abigail is 5 years old, and as such has the innocence and mentality of a girl that age and requires care and attention as appropriate. She has a modified version of the Wolf-Blooded Merit from Blood of the Wolf in which she feels oddly comfortable around Uratha, and can even tell if a regular animal is one of the Changing Breeds! She doesn’t understand how this works, it just does. She blocked out the memory of the night of Sarah’s First Change so she doesn’t remember the carnage and horror of watching her father be slashed to ribbons. Should she remember, it could drive her already young mind to the brink. Also, the spirit that spared Sarah’s life could come calling in for a favor at some point. Her mother is an Elder Bone Shadow Ithaeur, so her communing with Spirits could lead her to Sarah, she might not like what she finds though.
Quote: “Get your hands off her before I take them off for you.”
Stereotypes:
Blood Talons: I always hated the military. These ones are worse.
Bone Shadows: Sure start asking questions, you won’t like the answer.
Hunters in Darkness: Watch your back. Even if you’re not they’ll watch it for you.
Iron Masters: They couldn’t leave the cities if they tried.
Storm Lords: Next time you try telling me how to raise my sister you can find your self bleeding to death because I have your tongue in my claws.
Ghost Wolves: Let the confused be. Telling them anything they can’t understand is pointless.
Vampires: *low growl*
Mages: Parlor tricks, nothing more.
Pure Tribes: If they try to get near they will see their blood on the ground and my claws in their chests.
Humans: They’re so ignorant they bring nothing but trouble.

Bone Shadow and Rahu symbols property of White Wolf Publishing.

Characters are property of DR Studios

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