Homid Fianna Philodox, ex-cop
Appearance: Attractive woman in her early to mid twenties. Short black hair, discerning amber-brown eyes, thick lashes. Tall (5’9) and fairly slender but with good muscle tone and moves with the grace of an athlete. At the sept she usually wears well kept BDU pants, a fitted T-shirt, a BDU top that hides her shoulder-holster. When in town, she usually wears slacks or jeans, a fitted shirt and a jacket.
Name: Creide Forbes, War Name: Tears-the-Shadow
Breed: Homid, Auspice: Philodox, Tribe: Fianna
Nature: Judge, Demeanor: Traditionalist
Pack Name: , Pack Totem: Sulis
ATTRIBUTES (xp lvl x4)
2 STR (gla4 cri6 his5 lup3), 4 DEX (gla4 cri5 his6 lup6), 4 STA (gla6 cri7 his7 lup6)
4 CHA (same), 2 MAN (gla1 cri-1 his-1 lup-1), 3 APP (gla2 cri0 his0 lup0)
3 PER, 3 INT, 3 WIT
ABILITIES (xp lvl x2)
TALENTS 3 Alertness, 4 Athletics, 2 Brawl, 2 Dodge, 2 Empathy, – Expression, – Intimidation, 2 Primal-Urge, – Streetwise, – Subterfuge
SKILLS – Animal Ken, – Crafts, 1 Drive, – Etiquette, 3 Firearms, – Leadership, 1 Melee, – Performance, – Stealth, – Survival
KNOWLEDGES – Computer, 1 Enigmas, 3 Investigation, 2 Law, 1 Linguistics, – Medicine, – Occult, – Politics, 2 Rituals, – Science
2 Allies (Police); 2 Contacts (Legal Dept, Media); 2 Kinfolk; 2 Pack Totem
GIFTS (xp lvl x3)
Persuasion, Resist Toxin, Truth of Gaia
3 RAGE (xp lvl x1)
2 GNOSIS (xp lvl x2)
7 WILLPOWER (xp lvl x1)
TOTAL XP: 23
XP SPENT: 8
Merits: Daredevil – You are good at taking risks, and are even better at surviving them. All difficulties are one less whenever you try something particularly dangerous, and you can ignore one botch result when you roll “ones” on such actions (you can cancel a single “one” that is rolled, as if you have an extra success).
Flaws: Hatred, Drug Dealers; Pack Mentality; Mark of the PredatorAllies:
- Jim Donnelly (her dad), retired chief of police
- Bill Rowley, deputy sheriff
- Chris Sabatino, legal
- Meg Irwin, media
- Anne Donnelly (her mom)
- Sean Fallon, her partner (police)
- Drew Neil, good friend from the force
- Rose Devlin, good friend from the force
- Tom Reardon, good friend from the force
Packmates: Cathal (Dave), Derick (Austin), Fire (Paul), Hector (Bob), Rhayna (Shana)
Size: Homid, 5’9”, 140 lbs; Glabro, 6’3”, 300 lbs; Crinos, 9’5”, 700 lbs; Hispo, 5’5” at shoulder, 700 lbs; Lupus, 2’5” at shoulder, 110 lbs.Character XP Worksheet:
- 25 Freebies Total / 25 Used (15 base / +7 in flaws / +1 wiki work for Matt / +1 Family / +1 Background)
- physical 7 / social 5 (+1 CHA reinforcing stereotypes) / mental 3 (+15 freebies)
- talents 13 (+2 freebies to Athletics) / skills 5 / knowledges 9
- backgrounds 5 (+1 freebie to Kinfolk)
- willpower 3 (+4 freebies)
- merit: daredevil (+3 freebies)
- 23 XP Earned / 8 XP Spent
- +1 Gnosis (2 xp), +1 Primal Urge (2 xp)
- +2 pack Totem (4 xp)
I was a wife and a mother before I was ever Garou. This is my curse, and my blessing.
You see, most Garou go through their first change as kids, teenagers. The last of Gaia’s warriors was my grandfather’s grandfather in my family, and when I was born, the local Fianna barely even blinked, if they even thought about me at all.
I was very intense as a youngster and later as a teenager, and had, as school therapists called it, “anger issues.” The other children avoided me, with the exception of my good friend Drew, and to defeat my anger I would run until I literally could not move. My father installed a heavy punching bag at home in the shed where I would hit it until my knuckles were bloody. I learned to cope with the broiling chaos inside me by constantly pushing myself to physical extremes. Any sport they would allow me to play, I played, and Drew and I tried just about every extreme sport we could think of. In school, my coaches did tend to discourage me from playing team sports, as the other girls didn’t get along with me too well, but I did very well in gymnastics, track and field, and other sports for the solitary athlete.
There was no argument when I decided to follow family tradition and sign up with law enforcement after my teen years came and went with no change. I chose the police force, where I served both my country and my extended family. I was able to focus and refine the chaos inside me during the training to become an officer. One of the instructors watched as I pushed myself to extremes. He recognized my efforts to control my temper, and introduced me to the art of meditation. I will be forever grateful to him, because between meditation and physical workouts, I kept my anger and passion well in check.
I distinguished myself easily as an officer of great dedication, although I went through several partners, all of them rather quickly and within my first year in the service. Their explanations to their superiors was that I needed a more specialized and dedicated partner, that I pushed them all a little bit further than they wanted to go. All I knew is that I worked my hardest to establish justice and law. I was also peripherally aware of a very odd, militant side of the family, distant cousins, who had extensive contacts within the force. I knew that sometimes the assignments that I was given were because of this connection that I had with them. My last partner was also due to this connection, as well as a tight group of us, which lasted until I left the force. We were four men and two women, all who were also vaguely aware of a similar “familial” connection we had, and we fit together like a well-oiled machine.
It was as a police officer that I met Michael Forbes. He was one of the few of my coworkers that were not intimidated by my intensity and temper, although the others respected me, and my dedication to the law. Needless to say, when Michael and I married, there was no objection – the local Garou believed I was kin and Michael was kinfolk, too.
We had a beautiful daughter about a year later. Motherhood did not come easily to me. I loved my daughter dearly, but she suffered horribly to colic and was always fussy or down right hysterical when I would try to hold her or feed her. I would always make every attempt to calm her, and yet her small cries would not stop. Broken-hearted, I would give her to Michael and watch wistfully as he would croon to her until her cries turned to silence, contentment, then sleep. My only moments of quiet with her were when either Michael held her, or when he rocked her to sleep then passed her over to me. I would look down at the beautiful infant in my arms, a bittersweet ache filling my heart. After my maternity leave was over, I went back to the force.
Michael was an excellent servant of Justice; all knew that if they need back up, he was a calm, cool man, excellent in combat. I will never forget (DATE about 1 year from game start date). It was our first day off together in about a month and we had a beautiful day planned. Michael got a call, however, and of course he went. I kissed him goodbye as he picked up his weapons. I watched him leave, never even guessing that it would bee the last time I saw him with life in his blue eyes, or light in his red-gold hair.
Masterson, the sleazy psychiatrist from the force, arrived several hours later, and even then I had no suspicion. He told me about the drug bust, that it had been a set up, and how brave Michael had been. I sat down on my worn couch in complete shock. I felt Masterson come and sit next to me, and he wrapped his arms around me. When his lips touched mine, I remember how clear my vision became, how I could even see the pulse of his blood at his throat and the slight rise and fall of his breath. I blacked out, I think, and when I came out of it, I was naked, covered in blood, and curled up on the floor of my living room.
My daughter was screaming in the other room. My living room was completely destroyed. Masterson’s horribly mangled body was on the now blood soaked couch. Not a single piece of furniture remained untouched. I staggered to my bedroom, pulled on my robe and called my father. All I asked was for him to please come over. Then I went to take care of my daughter, to calm her down, but every time I went near her, her screams of terror increased. By the time my father got there, I was curled up in the corner of my daughter’s room sobbing, and my little one was curled up in the corner of her bed, her screams turned to hiccups. My mom took Aine to the kitchen, and my dad packed an overnight bag for Aine and myself. He made me wash up in my bathroom and then we drove in silence to my parents’ house. Dad didn’t say anything – I think they called him from the department – and Mom was crooning softly to my daughter. When we got home, I went up to my old room and just crawled up on my familiar, comfortable bed and fell into an exhausted sleep.
I woke to the sound of my father’s voice, talking with two other men. It was still night. When my dad came into my bedroom, he told me that I had to go with these men. I stood up, pulled on my jeans, T-shirt and tennis shoes, and tucked my handgun into my belt. I remember that I walked right past them and picked up my sleeping daughter. Then I looked at them.
They glanced at each other. “You cannot bring the child,” one said, his voice calm as summer.
“I am her mother,” I replied, trying to stay calm. My heart was pounding loudly in my ears.
The one that spoke stared at me, a hard glint in his eye. My mom came up to me. “Give Aine to me, Creide. I’ll take care of her.”
My daughter woke up with a jump and started screaming immediately. My heart broke all over again, and I sat down with my daughter rocking back and forth, crooning softly. All my efforts to soothe her failed miserably as she screamed shrilly. My mother came over and took her from me. At that, the two men walked over. The talker put his hand on my shoulder. I came up swinging. I think I lasted two seconds before they knocked me out cold.
The next two days were like a dream. I was at some farm with people walking and talking around me, next to me, five thousand miles away.
The second night something pierced through my silent grief. I heard a thin voice say clearly, “… stupid cops. We mowed them down like sheep. They thought they were doing a drug bust.”
I looked up at the speaker, and felt the fog in my head clear. All else disappeared from my awareness. “Did you see a man with red-gold hair and clear blue eyes? Tall and lean, with freckles on his face?”
The thin, dark man looked down his nose at me. He had a long, narrow nose. “I am Quiet-Death, Homid Shadow Lord Cliath, born under the New Moon.” His black eyebrow arched delicately. “Who are you?”
I looked into his eyes and saw the blackness of his heart. “Tell me you saw this man,” I whispered harshly.
He looked disdainful. “There was a man that met that description. Because of him, the others got away…”
My vision blurred as a loud ringing filled my ears, deafening me as my fury choked me and scorched away my pain. When I came out of my rage, three enormous wolves were holding me pinned to the ground, and I almost laughed hysterically as the dark man gurgled his last breath. The woman leaning over him was too late. I grinned fiercely, and surprised myself with the deep growl that rumbled from my throat. I knew that if I ever met another man like him I would do the same.
All eyes turned to me, and the enormous beasts pinning me to the ground snarled as I shifted my position slightly, wanting to stand. That was when I actually looked at myself and stared briefly in shock as my own enormous and bestial body slowly changed back to that form with which I was familiar. When I was back in my own skin, and naked again, the feral monsters pinning me eased back, gleaming eyes wary. I was a little wary myself as I watched them. I pushed my self up, and looked down at my shredded clothing.
My voice was steady, to my amazement, as I addressed the woman who was straightening up from the dead man. “I will be needing some clothes.” Her dark eyes regarded me without expression, and then flicked to the beasts, whose hot breath I could feel on my naked spine. I ignored them as best I could, trying to stay calm.
A voice spoke from behind me where the wolves were, the warm, summer voice that I recognized as belonging to the man from my father’s house. “Go ahead and fetch her some clothes.” The women turned on her heel and walked to the nearby farmhouse and disappeared within.
I turned to face them, hardly surprised to see three men all in human form now.
They named me Go-stróiceadh-na-scáth, “Tears-the-Shadow.” The leaders of the sept held some kind of brief court, where it was decided that it would be in everyone’s best interests if I were sent to the main Fianna cairn in Ireland. They suspected that I would attempt to run away and reclaim my old life. Today I know they were right, but then all I wanted to do was go home and cry for my dead husband, and be a mother to my little girl.
Insert stuff done in Ireland here
Finally I get to go home. I served my time in Ireland. They are good people in a beautiful land. But my heart and my daughter are in Vermont. Even if I can’t be a mother to her, I can watch over her as I watch over Gaia. I haven’t seen her in over a year. She won’t remember me, and I won’t remind her. As her mother, it is the kindest thing I can do, even though my heart aches for my loss.