- Name: Griffin's-Shadow-Brings-Home-The-Lost (full deed name, shortened to Griffin's-Shadow). Birth name, Hatchling. Also called Born-from-Egg derisively as a cub. A long, sharp howl like a diving bird of prey.
- Race: Garou
- Breed: Metis
- Auspice: Philodox
- Tribe: Red Talons
- Rank: Cliath (1)
- Sept: Frozen Blood
- Pack: Snow Walkers (Winter Wolf)
- Position: Refugee
- Birthdate: April 10th, 2003
- Creation Date: May 4th, 2014
Background
Hatchling, despite her name, was in fact born from a mammal. A Garou Ahroun named Smoke-In-Clear-Sky. The sticky part of that all being that not only was her mother Garou but so was her father, Night-After-Dawn, who was a Theurge. Smoke-In-Clear-Sky was the descendant of Storm-Tooth, a savage Elder warrior in his own right who lead one of the first pack of Talons from Siberia into the New World. Night-After-Dawn was the great-grandpup of Howl-Brings-the-Moonlight, a Galliard who successfully earned the personal patronage of Mammoth himself and gave up her life bringing down the Alpha of the Cracked Earth Hive in Nunavut single-handedly and breaking their totem’s power against Mammoth’s mighty tusks. Their respected bloodlines, however, was not enough to save them for their crimes.
The two Garou were packmates, close since they were cubs. It was believed they had a great destiny, for how unusual was it to be blessed with two Garou of such breeding in the same generation and the same sept? Surely it was a sign from Gaia and Griffin that better times were coming. They were treated like alphas in their own right and were quick to rank despite their young age as their pack received the choice assignments. However, the most glorious battles can be the most deadly and their luck finally ran out. A strike on a group of scrags went horribly wrong for the seasoned pack, leaving three dead and both Smoke and Dawn badly injured amidst their fallen foes and friends with another scrag lurking outside the cave the two had taken refuge in. Expecting this to be their final battle, the two came together in ways forbidden, giving in to the closeness that had always been there - for who greater and more worthy of a mate was there but the other? The End Times, however, are not without a sense of irony.
For all the injured Garou threw themselves into battle expecting it to be their last, they succeeded against the odds. When they returned to the sept their renown was sung, their battlescars regaled, and their packmates seen off to Gaia with great honors. Some time later, when Smoke began to show signs of pregnancy, the sept was overjoyed. To welcome strong new pups into the land was a grand event. Certainly some among them would be Garou, more Red Talons of strong line to bolster their dying breed. As the pregnancy progressed farther, though, some began to grow suspicious that they saw Smoke more and more often in her Crinos form. It was strange, for a mother usually should not shift after a certain point. The Ahroun turned their questions away with growls and nervous looks and became avoidant, disappearing into the forest for long stretches at a time. Dawn only watched, his eyes full of worry, though his answers were always the same: She mourns our pack, leave her be.
Not all were convinced, however, and a young Ragabash of the sept followed her. He was suspicious of this shifting pregnancy that seemed to go on for too long. His suspicions were confirmed when he witnessed the birth of a metis pup and he rushed back to the sept to tell the elders. Both parents were drug before the Sept Alpha who howled out their crimes for all to hear. In grief and rage for the hope and blood they had ruined, both Garou were promptly slain for their disgusting transgressions by the sept members that fell on them. Normally their unfortunate offspring would have followed suit expect something about her gave them pause. From her back sprouted two little nubs of downy wings. Feeling this was a sign from griffin himself that this ill-begotten thing had some important purpose, they allowed her to live. They named her Hatchling for she resembled a half-fletched chick, though others called her Born-From-Egg with a growl in their throat.
Life as a Metis Red Talon would hardly be called living for most Garou, but she was breathing, left to pick at the kills when all else had finished, and sleep at the edges of the bawn near the rest of her tribe. To Hatchling, it was good. She had food, shelter, and a pack. The abuse of the sept was expected and she came to accept it over the long years of being shoved over, bitten, forced to the most abject shows of submission on a regular basis. She was Metis. It was her place and at least she had one. Her lone source of more kindly companionship was Milk-Eyes, another Metis. He was tolerated for his rank, a ancient blind Athro who came at a call from the sept for truthseekers when their own numbers dropped alarmingly low and stayed to mind the mule pup. It was he who raised Hatchling and taught her the ways of the Garou and to speak in the Mother’s Tongue. He guided her in how to hunt when the other Talons had no tolerance for her presence. When her first change finally occurred, it was he who was assigned to be her mentor. Hatchling’s joy at being able to run and look like the other wolves remains one of her fondest memories, even if the elder Talons had to quickly remind her of her place as the lowest of the low with even more violent shows than normal. The blood was worth it, her happiness was absolute in that moment.
Her cubhood was exceptionally brief, having been given exactly one moon cycle after her First Change before sending her on her Rite of Passage. They had no desire to wait any longer. She would either prove useful or be slain and to them it was fine either way. With little in the way of humanity to learn, all Hatchling was left to grow used to is her new forms and deeper forays into the Umbra then ever before under the careful eye of her mentor. When the Sept gathered again at the next full moon, her rite of passage was set. Traditional as most Talon rites went, her duty to seek out a hunter who had been creeping near the bawn’s edge, bring him before the sept, and pass judgement. Cut and dry. What they didn’t expect was she’d find herself running smack-dab into a Spiral and a new-changed cub who’d been the unlucky target of the even less lucky hunter. The Spiral had been drawn there by a kinfetch who, true to form, went for the wrong Garou. To say the sept was shocked would be an understatement when a bloodied Hatchling came trotting back to the caern with the cub. Hatchling was deeply pleased with herself, eagerly telling them the tale how she swooped down on the Spiral from an overhanging ledge while he was distracted by dragging away the unconscious new cub, and once she’d dispatched him she gathered up the bewildered young wolf and brought him back. Grudgingly, they admitted the foul little thing had done good if not was outright lucky to have survived with no permanent injury, proclaimed her Cliath, and named her Griffin’s-Shadow-Brings-Home-The-Lost. The cub was brought fully into the sept’s fold, welcomed by her family as a new Galliard while Griffin’s-Shadow turned to finally begin life as a more accepted member of the sept.
The next two years was spent learning all she could about the rites of her role from Blind-Eye, a task which Griffin’s-Shadow devoted herself zealously. Here was her chance to provide worth to her sept and tribe and she was intent on doing this right. The two took several months to travel to neighboring Talon septs, introducing the young Philodox to the various aspects of her tribes. She came to meet and learn of the camps and accepted an invitation to join the Warders of the Land. She joined her mentor’s pack, named the Snow Walkers under the wise patronage of Winter Wolf, who travelled among the various Talon septs to share news and keep an eye on the wild packs in between. However, there was a part of the young Philodox’s education that was missing. Blind-Eye decided he wished to travel south, to seek out Earth-Whisperer who once came from the sept and to give his student a taste for the world outside the deep wilds that she had only ever known. After yielding the alphaship to his pack beta, Milk-Eye began their journey south. Just over the border into Washington, the pair were set upon by a small herd of skull pigs. Knowing the odds were extremely grave, Milk-Eye bid his student to run. Her instinct to defend her pack of one was strong and she initially resisted, but the elder halfmoon drove her away at the ends of his teeth even as the pigs sunk theirs into him. Griffin’s-Shadow turned and ran and she’s been running since, following the directions given to her to the Hidden Walk.
Appearance
In her lupus, hispo, and Crinos form, Griffin’s-Shadow is a sterling example of a trueborn Talon. She’s average size for a female, though lean and slender of build and looking sparing of extra fat or muscle. Her predominant coat color is a coppery red-brown buff with her undersides and the lower portions of her legs a more sandy color. Less exposed to dirt, her muzzle and cheeks are lighter still. She’s heavily ticked with a dark brown that becomes almost black along the top of her back, meeting against a lighter stripe over and along the backs of her shoulder. Her face is less red and exchanges it for sooty brown with strong black ticking, leaving the only red shading right around her eyes and the bridge of her snout. The boldest red is on the underside of the tip of her tail.
In her human appearances, rare as those are, she’s not too far removed from a neanderthal. Even in full homid, she’s got a distinctly animalistic posture and furrow to thick eyebrows. Her hair is waist-long and matted to dreads, a coppery auburn with with darker strands woven through. Her skin is a uniform, moderate skin tone that seems to be a blend of a few different ethnicities. Her eyes, pale gold tinged with grey in her native form, are more gray when in her homid shapes.
Regardless of the form she wears, from her back sprouts two avian wings and a smattering of feathering intermingled with her fur around them. Their topsides are shaded much the same rusty red-tan with darker feathering along the leading edges, with lighter buff feathers on the undersides. The primary feathers are all dipped in a brighter copper-red. Like the rest of her that shows small scars and scuffs, the wings also show damage. Many feathers appear bent, some missing, and there are bald patches on the fleshier portions where scars show through
Personality
Griffin’s-Shadow is a Metis who sees her position differently than most. She understands her place at the low end of Garou society but she does not see a flaw in this. Every pack must have a low-ranking wolf to help make the others strong and she is content to be such. While her impeccable bloodline seems a mockery as she is a genetic dead end, she is an extra hard slap to the face to her dying tribe. Her parents were full of expectation and they refuted it. Now eyes turn to their ill-gotten daughter, expecting something from her to make up for the loss of her parents and the the generosity of the sept and tribe to allow a mule like her to live. Griffin’s-Shadow has no idea but she is still a member of the tribe. Even the lowest wolf must contribute. She is ferociously dedicated to her tribe for all their abuse, not even so much out of a sense of gratitude but the primal need of a wolf to see to the survival of her pack.
Her name is as much her beliefs as it is what she is called. She is a daughter of Griffin, born of the greatest of predators. She either survives or dies. Griffin’s-Shadow, though apart of the Warders of the Land camp, is an extremist version. Unlike the Predator Kings, she knows an all out assault will only see see Garou driven to extinction and leave Gaia without any protection. However she is firmly against their progress and woe to the wandering human she catches in her territory. She is not above killing humans freely to reduce their numbers to manageable levels, she just recognizes the wisdom in doing it smart. Perhaps in the future the answer as to how will come to her. In the meantime, she seeks to strength her tribe’s place in the Nation and ensure that Griffin’s children endure. The defense of the wild is absolute, to her there is no grey about it.
As a Philodox, she is very black and white. You are either guilty or you are not, the reasons are of no consequence. If the deed was worth it, then one will accept punishment without complaint. If the deed was not, then they should be asking for punishment to be given freely. She bears a particularly severe outlook towards charachs. She knows firsthand the price paid by not just the offspring but Sept, Tribe, and Nation and has no tolerance for it. While she is fair to other Metis, she expects no less of them than she would any other Garou. They either prove to be a use or they do not and should die. Suffer Not Another To Tend Thy Weakness. She was given no quarter, she expects none, nor will she offer it. She is a traditionalist in every sense when it comes to the Litany with a ferocity that would make the stodgiest, driest Fianna and Fangs proud and she will defend it violently if need be.
Stats Of Note
- Pure Breed 5: There's an irony in being of the strongest lines of your tribe and being a genetic dead end. What a slap to the face. Does it mean any less is expected of her? Nope! Even more is. She can't breed, so she better damn well make her life worthwhile.
- Charisma 4: There's no denying it, she's a conversation starter. From the wings to her breeding to the feral draw of a wild-born creature, she just has an air of awe for all her unfortunate birth.
| GIFTS | Rank 1 | Rank 2 | Rank 3 | Rank 4 | Rank 5 |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| none | none | none | none |
| RITES | Level 0 | Level 1 | Level 2 | Level 3 | Level 4 | Level 5 |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| none | none | none |