[img]https://i.imgur.com/cIW3MCmt.png[/img]

Among men, I am called Jonathan Skyes. Among The People, they call me Dark Skyes. This is my story.

Like many before me, and no doubt for many after, it begins with my First Change. The breaking point. The moment you stop being what you were and become something... other.

It was supposed to be a camping trip- just me and a few other guys from the Club. A rare chance to unwind from the rough life we lived. I was invited by someone I trusted- or was supposed to trust anyway. But that fucker, Horace, lied. About the trip. About what he really wanted. I never believed in fate. After that night though, I believed. 

I don’t remember getting drugged- gagged, bound, and crucified. Those ropes were hard to forget, how they bit into my skin. Cold steel that sparkled by the light of the campfire. Blacked out faces except for his-Horace. With that shit eating grin. Looking at my damn hide like it was a fucking trophy he already claimed. Ready to carve me up.

That was the moment. The breaking point.

To be honest, thats when I blacked out. Taken by the wolf in me. I came to a freed man. Covered in blood that wasn’t my own and dazed to all hell. I didn’t bother looking to see if everyone was done it. Ran for the hills right after.

White Shadow- my mentor, found me later. He was like me. Brought me here to the Sept to learn the truth. If not for him, who knows what I’d be doing now.

--

That night, I remember being by one of the cooking fires, their warmth seeming through my T and jeans. A group of other kinfolk and myself all prepping for the different meals to be served at the moots great feast. Soft amber light danced in front of me while my gaze was focused on the potatoes that needed to be peeled. The moot was coming together well I think. Folks making the place look like natures paradise, other garou young and old working together to make sure they’ve got their pieces of the ceremonies down to a T, and somebody’s memaw with the other aunties cooking up a storm by the cooking fires. Being drilled about the apocalypse and coming of the Wyrm, it was shocking to see how hard Garou worked for their parties. Its...nice.

I focus on the potatoes I was working on. The hot starch scalding my calloused hands. It was easier then wondering on what was supposed to come later on. The Rite Of Passage. This big test to see if you actually learned anything during your ‘educating’ period. Not being able to imagine what they had in mind was daunting. It wasn’t like prospecting at all- proving yourself to a bunch of other lowlifes who thought they were tough shit. No, here you actually had something to prove. Could you fight to survive? Could you fight to defend what was important? I proved I could survive among lowly men. But this werewolf shit? Some piece of me doubted. 

It wasn’t just me though. Other’s were doing their Rite’s too. Fellas I’d be making a pack with supposedly. I had...mixed feelings about em. Good and bad. I wondered where they were tonight.