Name: Bobby Miller, “Walks-On-Razors”
Age: 23
Species: Werewolf
Appearance:




Personality: Bobby is a fairly in-your-face kind of guy. He is very aggressive and assertive, although is not necessarily violent. Though he definitely can, he often prefers to settle arguments verbally, even though he may often come across threatening. Mostly out of kindness of the other party, he will try to resolves arguments before they come to blows, although his intimidation approach may not be the best.
Despite his intimidating, angry demeanor, he seems to command a great deal of respect. Or fear. Either way, it works for him. This is probably due to being a born performer and songwriter. People, more often than not, listen when speaks, and regularly has people asking for advice. Although his advice is often “Toughen the fuck up.”

Biography: Bobby grew up in New York, raised by a single father. The two of them lived in a shitty studio apartment in Brooklyn, barely getting by. His dad worked three jobs to keep them with shelter and food, so was rarely home to look after young Bobby. Because of that, he spent most of his time with the other families who lived in the same apartment building. There were three boys in particular he became good friends with quickly. Jake, Franky and Sammy. The four of them were inseparable, always causing mayhem. All four of them were outcasts, never seeming to fit in anywhere else, except with each other. They understood each other.
The four grew up through school together, and discovered their collective loves for music. In middle school, they formed a hardcore punk band, inspired by the likes of Black Flag and Suicidal Tendencies. This made their school hate them even more, because no one understood, but they loved it, and fun doing it.
The young band started getting a bit of attention, and the group of 13-14 year olds started getting asked to play in bars around Brooklyn. Bobby’s dad, recently fired from one of his three jobs, went along to all of these shows, now that he had the time, as well as the parents of the other boys.

After one particularly rowdy show, the boys were hanging out around the back of the bar, loading their stuff into the old beaten down van. The parents were all simultaneously busy, dealing with various things, when a group of men with “gang members” written all over them approached the young band. They started talking, and the boys thought nothing of it at first. They weren’t scared. They grew up here, they knew how to deal with that sort of thing. But the older men started picking on the smallest of the group, Sammy. Getting up in his face and tripping over. Jake and Franky backed up when they saw one of them had a gun in his hand. But Bobby was having none of their shit. No one picked on his band. His brothers. His pack. He pushed back, getting in between Sammy and the gang.
“Oh, we got a tough guy, do we?” One of them yelled out teasingly, to which Bobby replied by pushing him back again.
“I said back off!” Before anything else can be done, a gunshot is heard, followed by screams, and the gang starts running. But they don’t get far. A hulking behemoth of claws and fur is on top of them within a heartbeat, tearing them apart, as the rest of the boys look on in horror. Their parents gather them into the van, as Bobby’s uncle, who was lucky to be there that particular night, shifts into the same half-man, half-beast that Bobby had become. The much bigger and more restrained Garou managed to subdue Bobby before he hurt anyone else, though none of the men that attacked him were even in one piece anymore, let alone still alive.

Bobby was taken to the local Sept, where he learnt the ways of the Garou, and over the next few months, was surprisingly joined by Sammy and Jake. They were Garou as well, they just discovered it later. Bobby asked about Frank, to find that he was killed, the same night Sammy went through his First Change.
The trio went through their Rites of Passage together, joining the Bone Gnawer Tribe, the Tribe of Bobby’s Uncle. The three formed their own pack, and after returning to the city, continued the band. Although they refused for a long to time to replace Franky, their bassist, and played with just the three of them. They tour now, both as a band and as a Garou Pack, visiting other Cairns on their travels. Although they still love the city life. It’s what they’re used to.

Supporting Characters:
Sammy - Werewolf - Guitarist of Splintered
Sammy is still the smallest of the trio, but what he lacks in size he makes up for in feistiness. With ungodly amounts of energy, he is always moving, always looking for something to do, and impossible to pin down in a fight. He is a Ragabash, a natural trickster, and is absurdly sneaky.

Jake - Werewolf - Drummer of Splintered
The strong silent type, Jake is a man of few words. As a Philodox, Jake is the mediator of the trio, often the voice of reason. As a drummer, he definitely isn’t a small man, being very well muscled, and definite force to be reckoned with should he be brought to anger.

Name: Most non-Garou know him as Mitch. His tribal name, which most Garou know him as, is Speaks-in-Shadows

Age: 50/45

Species: Homid-born Werewolf

Appearance: Mitch is the stereotype of your average street bum. Thick, ragged brown hair, a scraggly bush of a beard, dirt and grime coating his body, filthy clothes, and a stench to tie it all together. As a werewolf, his human form is significantly stronger and buffer than you'd expect for a homeless man, though its still a bit thinner than most. His various wolf forms all have the appearance of a street mutt, with his full wolf form looking more like a large, rabid dog.

Personality: Mitch, despite his awful appearance, is remarkably good at making friends, and getting people to talk to him, share secrets with him. Being a bum on the side of the road usually means that people don't care if he knows something, because they have no reason to believe that he'd be able to act on it. He also gets along fairly well with the non-Garou creatures of the world, and thusly has plenty of contacts throughout the supernatural holdouts of the city. Overall, he operates on a policy of "f I ain't heard it, it ain't been said.", and that tends to hold true.

Biography: Mitch's life has always been caught up in his tribe's LA holdings. He was raised as one of the Kinfolk, and had a rather easy first transformation at 13, in the middle of a forested park in the city, away from prying eyes. Overall, his life was, and is, about as easy as can be for a Bone Gnawer.

As he got older, his true talents began to shine. He started out making friends with members of other tribes, even ones that had a distain for Bone Gnawers. Then he started branching out, first to the Changelings and their fellow ties to Gaia, and then Mages, and even Vampires and Demons, though his clan was very cautious about the latter two and their ties to the Wyrm. Nonetheless, Mitch steadily grew into the head of one of the biggest secret brokering and contact chains in Los Angeles, rivaling that of the local Nosferatu holdings, and having contacts in far more of the supernatural groups and organizations.

Through it all, he's managed to stay true to the tenants of his Tribe, still living in the same manner as them despite his wealth of both knowledge and funds, his rusted clunker of a Saturn SW2 serving as his home and method of transportation, though he does have a small 'home' that consists of a hollowed-out RV in a tribe-owned scrapyard, with amenities such as a bed, and a generator that he can somehow get working with little to no fuel.

Supporting Characters: Mitch has contacts and allies all throughout the supernatural holdings in LA, and this gives him the ability to contact just about anyone, for the right price. Though, Vampires and Demons tend to be a bit more unwilling to interact with his agents, and likewise for those of his agents that are Garou.