Merit

Language: Russian (Native speaker)

Flaw

Driving Goal: Must protect the kin at all cost (Even against direct orders)

Homid

No Change

Difficulty 6

Glabro

Strength (+2) = 5

Stamina (+2) = 5

Appearance (-1)= 1

Manipulation (-2)= 0

Difficulty 7

Crinos

Strength (+4) = 7

Dexterity (+1)= 3

Stamina (+3) = 6

Manipulation (-3) = 0

Appearance 0

Difficulty 6

INCITE DELIRIUM IN HUMANS

Hispo

Strength (+3)= 6

Dexterity (+2)= 4

Stamina (+3)= 6

Manipulation (-3)= 0

+1 Dice to Bite Damage

Difficulty 7

Lupus

Strength (+1)= 4

Dexterity(+2)= 4

Staminda(+2)= 5

Manipulation(-3)= 0

-2 Perception Difficulty

Difficulty 6

Background

Into the World

Born to the Uktena tribe, his mother comes from a long line of werewolves that took residence in the soviet lands. Their pack's mission was always to keep the wyrm out of the soviet states as the northern lands were very barren of human life, which left the wyrm and it's creatures free to spawn and breed. The Zashchitnik (The name of their pack) took guard of the humans in the state for generations. Sigurt had no formal education while growing up, only the shared education of the pack and world experiences taught him at a young age, fortunately it was enough to teach him how to read and write not only in Russian, but english as well, as his mother DID receive formal education, and passed that on to her son. Being a kin of the Uktena, Sigurt spent his youth learning the ways of his pack, Spiritual lessons given to him by Romanov, his mother's cousin, bringing him into several rituals that was safe for him, teaching him that just because he was a kinfolk, did not mean he was excused in being useless.

Growing up

Time passes, Sigurt became a young teen, and having being trained in the martial arts of his family, on his 15th birthday he was awarded a machete, one whose blade was made of silver, and given the same duty that all young kin of their pack received, watch the cubs. Protect them from outsiders. A duty to be quite honest, Sigurt felt was a waste of his time, there were never any attacks on the young ones, the pack would never let anything through His young mind didn't understand that attacks can come from more than just the wyrm. Traveling more along the southern states, finding new homes and dens, Sigurt became close with many of the other children in the pack, learning different games and wrestling with the older youth to keep his skills sharpened. Frustration began to grow inside of him as he wasn't sure what his true place in all of this life was. Some - fury in him was begining to boil.

Romanov saw this fury growing, sensing that Sigurt was potentially becoming close to a change, he took the young lad closer into his camp, and began to teach him various ways to calm his mind, teas, meditation, and most importantly, how and WHEN to feed into that rage and let it loose. Romanov discovered that Sigurt was most at peace learning rituals, and began the young man on a regiment of performing various rituals with him.

A First Moon

Dead of winter, the moon in its crescent stage, shining high in the sky. Sigurt now eighteen years old had taken a bottle of vodka, and walked off into the woods. He couldn't control it anymore, he was getting so angry - angry over nothing at all. Hurting the other youth and kids while wrestling, going too far and even breaking a young boys arm. He was scolded for his actions, which lead him to this abrupt walk into the forest. He began to get angry at his surroundings, angry at the ground, the air...Most of all. That stupid moon, shining in his eyes. He yelled at it, telling it to get out of his face. He found his fist slamming into a tree, causing a spray of blood, which only made him more angry. He heard whispers, footsteps around him, he yelled at them that he would kill them all. What was the beginning of the end of his memories, was drawing his silver blade to attack whatever was around him, and then his screams turned into ones of pain as holding the blade began to burn and blister his flesh, the last thing he remembered was a dark shadow that lunged at him as he dropped the machete...

Sigurt woke up in the clearing of their most recent camp. He was completely naked, covered in blood, the snow was cold on his flesh, it tasted so good as he scooped it up, putting it in his mouth for a drink, looking up to seeing wolves, no - family. All circling him and howling. Everyone he's come to see as his elders, his family, all in their lupus form and welcoming him into the pack-proper.

A Journey to a New Land

Sigurt's pack was nothing if not nomadic, their travels took them from the eastern most edge of the soviet lands, finally on a ship and into Alaska, which was surprisingly not a long journey as maps would have him believe. Excited to see the Americas, Sigurt was one of the first of the boat, disappointed slightly at the cold and snow, as this was all he seen in Russia. Romanov informed him that this was just Alaska, not their final destination, Alaska being another cold land. He was happy as they started traveling towards the northern states of America, The sun on his face was such a new feeling in this heat that he pulled his hair back and reveled in the sensation. Romanov had family in New York, and that was their goal, the pack getting jobs in a shipping company and Sigurt for the first time getting an apartment, on his own, alone. New York was different, So much concrete and stone...only small patches of forest. One of his American cousins brought him to a night school, he enrolled in a first aid class as that was familiar to him with all of the rituals and medicinal magics that Romanov would try to teach him. But it wasn't sating him at all.

What the Natives will Howl

Some years went by, most of his pack went back to Russia, not finding what they were looking for here in America, But Sigurt was content here, he found friends, purpose in schooling, and a solid job at his cousin's Shipping yard loading and unloading the boats that would come in. Most importantly he found a small sect of the Uktena here that took residence in the woods, and that was when Sigurt's heart found his place once again, getting to know some of the packs that roamed the land, but he was still a stranger to them in a new world. Sigurt spent time getting to know some of the kinfolk, doing what he's always done and watched over them while their packs were off hunting. A good thing he did, the pack was away, when dark creatures came to their cabin, the wyrm was here and the kin were helpless against them. Sigurt knew he was crossing a line when he ran to the group of kinfolk, and ordered them into the house, once inside he blockaded the door with a heavy statue that adorned their porch.

The young watched in a combination of terror and awe as they saw Sigurt turn to square off with the monsters that came. Wisps and shadows flying at the cabin as Sigurt would grab and twist them to the ground, tearing them apart. He could see many more approaching and he turned towards the window. He growled at the kinfolk to draw the drapes, slide the book case in front of it. Once they did; all they could hear was a terrifying howl; vicious growls and snarls, what seemed like an eternity of horrific sounds, violent shaking of the cabin walls and door as time went on. Howl after howl being given when finally - a different howl was heard, followed by another, and another. The kin could do nothing but stare terrified at each other as they heard even more large growls and roars and howls, and eventually - silence.

Sigurt woke up on a sofa, an older woman washing his wounds with a damp cloth, a wolf curled up on the sofa at his legs protectively. The woman told him that he'd breached their territory without permission, that he would normally be punished for this - although they owe the lives of their kinfolk to him. Not many would interfere with a packs problems. And the foul creatures knew the kinfolk would be alone on this eve. So they would forgo punishment in exchange for a deed of gratitude, which was gifted with welcoming into their home for a feast and celebration of life for the member that they lost in the battle. The elder of their pack thanked Sigurt personally, informing him that he would be a viable member to any pack that looks for a young Den-warden. The elder gifted Sigurt with one more gift, taking him outside and giving one final ritual and howl to Sigurt - Watches the Door