“"The wind is a wanderer, free from roots, always seeking new horizons."”
About Me:
Howdy, my name is Judgement,
I’m based on the West Coast of the U.S., with over 15 years’ experience in writing and roleplaying. I’m drawn to storytelling that’s rich in complexity, using each story as a way to explore deeper questions. My influences are diverse, from *Werewolf: The Apocalypse* and motorcycle culture to the works of philosophers throughout history. To me, storytelling is a journey into themes like loyalty, survival, and identity.
My writing varies in length, but quality is always a priority. I enjoy making posts more immersive with music, visuals, and creative formats. Outside of writing, I’m a student of conservation, a recreational athlete, and an apprentice in construction, learning skills that keep me rooted in the real world.
Favorite Characters to Write:
Lee Skyes – Garou, Galestalker, Philodox, The Regretful Outlaw Biker. Deacon Winters – Garou, Galestalker, Ohilodox, The Nomadic Blue Collar Baddie. Mazekai Aytaal’Brimstone – Dwarf, Barbarian/Fighter, Soldier.
Roleplay Preferences:
Tone: Deep, atmospheric, and character-focused, with space for both action and introspection.
Themes: Survival, loyalty, mystery, personal growth, and the power of choice.
Setting: World Of Darkness, Alt History, Urban Fantasy.
Style: Literate - Adv. Literate, Multi paragraph, casual posting time.
Story Hooks I’d Love to Explore:
Rites of Passage: Trials and tests, from first transformations to harrowing spirit quests.
Caern Defense: Defending sacred lands from human corruption, spirit enemies, or other supernatural threats.
Personal Redemption: A Garou or Kinfolk’s journey toward inner peace and purpose against all odds.
Brotherhood Trials: A character’s path from prospect to full patch, or the tests of loyalty that come with it.
Outlaw Justice: Exploring the MC’s brand of rough justice and how far they’ll go to protect their own.
MC and Supernatural World Clash: The club’s encounters with supernatural threats or allies, blending realism with a mystical twist.
Lost in the Wild: A survival story where characters are stranded in an unforgiving wilderness and must find their way home.
Guardian of the Land: Characters who protect sacred or mystical sites in nature from human threats.
Seasonal Changes & Challenges: The beauty and danger of each season, from summer storms to winter survival, impacting the journey.
Callum Ironwood stepped from the treeline like a ghost from an old legend, his presence heavy with the weight of unspoken tales. The firelight caught the silver in his dark grey hair and beard, turning him into something timeless—a warrior etched by age but unbroken by it. His jacket, worn and scarred, spoke of countless battles fought and won, each mark a story he carried in silence.
He had been here before, many times over the years. Training young Garou wasn’t a job; it was a duty, a promise made to those who had mentored him long ago. Every cub he guided through their first uncertain steps into this life reminded him of the ones who hadn’t made it, their faces etched into his memory like shadows on a wall. But he couldn’t think about that now. Not here, not tonight.
In moments, the man was gone, replaced by a massive Tundra Wolf. His golden eyes gleamed like firelight in the dark, burning with a quiet, commanding intensity. He moved forward, silent and deliberate, each step heavy with purpose, the scars on his coat like echoes of old storms.
He see's Snapjaw came through the edge of the clearing, his figure outlined by the fire’s glow, and approaches. “Snapjaw,” he called, circling Snapjaw. Callum didn’t growl or snarl; his presence alone was enough to fill the space with tension, a quiet pressure that demanded acknowledgment. When he stopped, his golden eyes met Snapjaw’s, sharp as a blade cutting through fog. "Have you completed your hunt for tonight's meal?"
The words weren’t cruel, but they carried weight. Callum didn’t waste breath on empty platitudes. He believed in these cubs—every single one of them—but belief didn’t soften the edges of the world they were about to face. He knew what the Rite of Passage would demand of them. He knew it could break them. "You weren't just star gazing, were you?"
The cooking fires crackly softly in the evening air, its light flickering against those familiar faces that stood close by. Aly’s obnoxiously proud grin. Wild Rose’s aged but sharp gaze. Adesina’s nervous glances. The faces of a few I wouldn’t likely forget. That sketchbook of Aly’s gleamed in the glow, her attitude still countering my own. That weight in my chest still heavy. My patience wore thin enough, and I couldn’t stop myself from biting back. “Suneaters?” I reeled, my works cutting that moment of silence like a shard of ice. “Why would you think naming ourselves something that might offend an already offended Great Spirit?” The last of my cut potatoes were tossed roughly into the pot. Hot water splashing, scalding my rough hands. The feeling is lost to temper and maybe even fear. Considering how one of Helio’s gang members could have been the one cooking the stews- I wasn’t going to take my chances. “The only thing you’ll be best at is running aw-” I couldn’t finish my thought, as a clawed hand batted hard against the back of my head. Blood ran down the side of my head as claws took a small sliver out of my ear. Then her voice came. Commanding, steady, and sharp as her claws. Wild Rose.
“Enough.” The Mentor commands, tone cutting through the tension like the crack of a whip in the dark. In the light her salt-and-pepper hair glints in the firelight as she places herself between Jonathan and Aly, a hand on each of their shoulders. A dark shadow cast behind her, furthering her imposing presence and dominance. She was their teacher. And they best well remember that. “You know better to speak to your future pack mate that way. Not now, not ever.” She scolds Jonathan. Then turns to Aly. “Mind your words, Aly. Big talk can earn big enemy’s. Even if it is just a joke.” In a softer tone. It was obvious from time spent with the cubs, that for Aly words don’t always work. The Rite Of Passage would have to teach her those hard lessons. “Not all cubs make it through their Rite of Passage. Some of you might not come back from this. You’ve trained, yes, but the wild doesn’t care about training. The spirits won’t take pity on you. And if you can’t stand as one, if you can’t find strength in each other, you’ll fall alone. Remember that.” Wild Rose presses, giving each of the rowdy cubs a hard look. Remember this. She pulls her hand away after giving each a gentle squeeze. Wild Rose turns to Adesina, her tone shifting. “Adesina. Please watch over your brother and sister while I find SnapJaw. The night will be starting soon.”
For three months, the Sept of the Light Dancers had been their home. Nestled deep in Denali National Park, beneath the shadow of Mount Foraker, it was a place of harsh lessons and staggering beauty. The glacial lake at its heart shimmered with the whispers of spirits, and every step carried the weight of purpose.
Jonathan Skyes, Aly Evergreen, Adesina Hendi, and Dylan Archer arrived as individuals, strangers brought together by fate. Days of grueling training with mentors like Wild Rose and the Elders of the sept shaped them, teaching them the meaning of Garou life—strength, unity, and the balance between wolf and human. Nights spent camping under the stars forged their bond. Around the fire, they shared laughter, arguments, and quiet reflections, growing closer with every shared moment.
Now, the Rite of Passage awaited—a trial to strip away their doubts and transform them into a true pack. Beneath the vast Alaskan sky, their journey would truly begin. Together, they would face whatever awaited, their fates bound in the crucible of the wild.
Wild Rose turns her head from Jonathan and Aly to their third companion, still kneeling, her gaze sharp as ever, though it softened slightly when it landed on Adesina. “Adesina,” she said, her voice calm but firm, “I see you’ve found your way here. Good. Your brother and sister need another set of hands.”
She gestured toward the stew and the firewood. “Jonathan’s got his focus, but he can’t carry it all alone. And Aly’s got energy to burn, but she needs someone steady to help her channel it. You’re here now—make yourself useful.”
Rose let her eyes linger on the three for a moment, her expression unreadable. Then, without turning, she asked, “Where’s your wolf brother? I’ve not seen him recently.” Her tone was casual, but there was weight behind the question, a subtle thread of concern woven into her words.
Aly’s voice broke that quiet atmosphere I had going like a stray bullet through a wall of glass. Shattered. Her dragged out whine made to look like a joke or some attempt at a casual conversation starter. This was no joke though. None of it was. I don’t understand how anyone could approach this kind of situation with that attitude.
The cooking fire crackled, water simmering for the stew. I gritted my teeth while tossing my ready potatoes into it. That energy of a reckless teenage was like rubbing Styrofoam pieces together. Unnerving. I wondered if that girl was conscious enough of her actions to realize what she was actually doing. My focus stays on peeling the potatoes, trying to keep my patience in check.
“We’re not passing tonight,” I stated, voice steady but low as usual. “If you’d been paying attention to Wild Rose- really paying any attention- you’d remember that,” Continuing, I picked my words. Or tried to. Maybe my nerves were getting the better of me. “A Rite Of Passage isn’t some pop quiz you one and done, Aly. You have to prove you’re worthy of keeping. Physically, mentually- spiritually even. You can’t just be reflexes and muscles.” Maybe it wasn’t the same for everyone else. But if prospecting was something anything I could get an idea from- I could only imagine how horrible something like this for werewolves fighting a war of attrition against some cosmic force that had many faces and hands. My palm goes to my forehead. The thought alone was a weight heavier than any stone.
The silence that followed wasn’t perfect, but it was close enough. I focused on the stew again, the heat from the fire licking at my skin, the scent of the spices grounding me. In moments like this, the world narrowed to what was in front of me. Stirring, simmering, waiting.
The crunch of Wild Rose’s boots on the gravel wasn’t loud, but it carried. Each step was deliberate, purposeful, like the ticking of a clock counting down to something inevitable. She moved with the kind of confidence that didn’t need to announce itself, the kind that came from years of battles fought and wisdom earned. Her salt-and-pepper hair caught the flickering light of the fire, strands of silver gleaming like threads of a story half-told. She wasn’t imposing in stature, but there was weight to her presence, the unspoken promise that she could hold the world together if it started to crack.
“Jonathan. Aly,” she called, her voice cutting clean through the camp’s quiet murmur. It wasn’t loud, but it didn’t have to be. Her words hung in the air, undeniable, like a gust of wind that shifted everything around it. “How’s the stew? If you’ve burnt it, you’ll be hunting and gathering until dawn to fix it.”
Wild Rose tilted her head toward the mess of firewood Aly had placed beside the fire. “Stack it properly,” she said, her tone like a blade drawn across stone—firm but not cruel. “If those logs roll into the fire, we’ll have more problems than burnt stew.”
Looking around, the mentor changed her tone while kneeling beside the two cubs. “How are you both feeling?” she asked, her tone shifting slightly. Still firm, but softer now. “Big night coming up. First step into the world as full Garou. It’s no small thing.”
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.
“I remember the fires- that night we gathered ‘round em for the feasts and songs. A time of wonder under the watch of the ol’ Sky River. Now I know, that time won’t ever come.” - Tom “Holds The Embers” Kohan
Cold mountain air had rolled down the mountain with the setting sun- a sharp blade across the ribs of the unwary. It was more than just the air though- it was the weight of the coming moments. The promise of what the night was meant to be. A night of bounty and stories, a night of of Becoming. You were becoming Garou tonight.
The Sept Of The Light Dancers, perched closed to the shoreline of Lake Minchumina, was active tonight- more so than usual. The air here carried the scents of wood smoke and roasting meat, mingled with the tang of frost and the faint, earthy aroma of tundra moss. You can even catch the scent of smoked venison, fresh bread, and tundra berries cooking down into syrup, all blending into the icy air. Fires flickered in controlled chaos, casting long shadows against the old Sitka spruce trees that stood silent and eternal around the spring. Kinfolk and Garou worked tirelessly in the firelight, their movements precise, almost ritualistic, as they prepared for the Moot. There was a rhythm to it, a pulse, like the heartbeat of the land itself.
Every member of the sept worked in tandem. Elders exchanged works of guidance and advice to kinfolk, measured and deliberate. A few young ahroun, trying to avoid menial cooking or cleaning, hoist logs in secret competition with each other. The Den Mother and Father arranged their wards for the coming ceremonies, giving instructions, practicing, and donning any regalia needed.
The aurora, or Sky River as it was named, flows across the night sky in shades of green and purple. This was the Guardian Spirit of the Sept, you had been taught. A powerful spirit that walked the boundary between the Umbra (spirit world) and Material World. You could almost just touch it, given the reflection on the lake waters. It seemed never ending. The light pools on the glacial spring at the heart of the caern, painting its surface with colors too vivid to be real. It’s beautiful, yes, but also unsettling. The kind of beauty that carries weight, a reminder of how small you are beneath the vastness of Gaia’s creation.
Tonight was a night for the sept- but also for you. Tonight was the night your Rite Of Passage was to be initiated. Months of education from elders, bloodied nights training with mentors, all leading to this moment. You would no longer be a cub- you would be Garou. However, cub or garou, you were still expected to help out with preparation for the nights activities. Where were you that night?
Sorry folks who are replying, this game is closed though. If you are still interested, reach out to me and we might be able to discuss something. Just let me know your experience with W5 and I'll see what I can do.
[img]https://i.imgur.com/I1eXLkH.png[/img]
[quote][H2]“"The wind is a wanderer, free from roots, always seeking new horizons."”[/H2][/quote]
[u][b]About Me:[/b][/u]
Howdy, my name is Judgement,
I’m based on the West Coast of the U.S., with over 15 years’ experience in writing and roleplaying. I’m drawn to storytelling that’s rich in complexity, using each story as a way to explore deeper questions. My influences are diverse, from *Werewolf: The Apocalypse* and motorcycle culture to the works of philosophers throughout history. To me, storytelling is a journey into themes like loyalty, survival, and identity.
My writing varies in length, but quality is always a priority. I enjoy making posts more immersive with music, visuals, and creative formats. Outside of writing, I’m a student of conservation, a recreational athlete, and an apprentice in construction, learning skills that keep me rooted in the real world.
[u][b]Favorite Characters to Write:[/b][/u]
Lee Skyes – Garou, Galestalker, Philodox, The Regretful Outlaw Biker.
Deacon Winters – Garou, Galestalker, Ohilodox, The Nomadic Blue Collar Baddie.
Mazekai Aytaal’Brimstone – Dwarf, Barbarian/Fighter, Soldier.
[u][b]Roleplay Preferences:[/b][/u]
[List]
[*]Tone: Deep, atmospheric, and character-focused, with space for both action and introspection.
[*]Themes: Survival, loyalty, mystery, personal growth, and the power of choice.
[*]Setting: World Of Darkness, Alt History, Urban Fantasy.
[*]Style: Literate - Adv. Literate, Multi paragraph, casual posting time.
[/list]
[u][b]Story Hooks I’d Love to Explore:[/b][/u]
[list]
[*]Rites of Passage: Trials and tests, from first transformations to harrowing spirit quests.
[*]Caern Defense: Defending sacred lands from human corruption, spirit enemies, or other supernatural threats.
[*]Personal Redemption: A Garou or Kinfolk’s journey toward inner peace and purpose against all odds.
[*]Brotherhood Trials: A character’s path from prospect to full patch, or the tests of loyalty that come with it.
[*]Outlaw Justice: Exploring the MC’s brand of rough justice and how far they’ll go to protect their own.
[*]MC and Supernatural World Clash: The club’s encounters with supernatural threats or allies, blending realism with a mystical twist.
[*]Lost in the Wild: A survival story where characters are stranded in an unforgiving wilderness and must find their way home.
[*]Guardian of the Land: Characters who protect sacred or mystical sites in nature from human threats.
[*]Seasonal Changes & Challenges: The beauty and danger of each season, from summer storms to winter survival, impacting the journey.
[/list]
<div style="white-space:pre-wrap;"><img src="https://i.imgur.com/I1eXLkH.png" /><br><blockquote class="bb-quote"><div class="bb-h2">“"The wind is a wanderer, free from roots, always seeking new horizons."”</div></blockquote><br><br><span class="bb-u"><span class="bb-b">About Me:</span></span><br><br>Howdy, my name is Judgement,<br><br>I’m based on the West Coast of the U.S., with over 15 years’ experience in writing and roleplaying. I’m drawn to storytelling that’s rich in complexity, using each story as a way to explore deeper questions. My influences are diverse, from *Werewolf: The Apocalypse* and motorcycle culture to the works of philosophers throughout history. To me, storytelling is a journey into themes like loyalty, survival, and identity.<br><br>My writing varies in length, but quality is always a priority. I enjoy making posts more immersive with music, visuals, and creative formats. Outside of writing, I’m a student of conservation, a recreational athlete, and an apprentice in construction, learning skills that keep me rooted in the real world.<br><br><span class="bb-u"><span class="bb-b">Favorite Characters to Write:</span></span><br><br>Lee Skyes – Garou, Galestalker, Philodox, The Regretful Outlaw Biker.<br>Deacon Winters – Garou, Galestalker, Ohilodox, The Nomadic Blue Collar Baddie.<br>Mazekai Aytaal’Brimstone – Dwarf, Barbarian/Fighter, Soldier.<br><br><span class="bb-u"><span class="bb-b">Roleplay Preferences:</span></span><br><ul class="bb-list" style="white-space: normal;"><li>Tone: Deep, atmospheric, and character-focused, with space for both action and introspection.</li><li>Themes: Survival, loyalty, mystery, personal growth, and the power of choice.</li><li>Setting: World Of Darkness, Alt History, Urban Fantasy.</li><li>Style: Literate - Adv. Literate, Multi paragraph, casual posting time.</li></ul><br><br><span class="bb-u"><span class="bb-b">Story Hooks I’d Love to Explore:</span></span><br><ul class="bb-list" style="white-space: normal;"><li>Rites of Passage: Trials and tests, from first transformations to harrowing spirit quests.</li><li>Caern Defense: Defending sacred lands from human corruption, spirit enemies, or other supernatural threats.</li><li>Personal Redemption: A Garou or Kinfolk’s journey toward inner peace and purpose against all odds.</li><li>Brotherhood Trials: A character’s path from prospect to full patch, or the tests of loyalty that come with it.</li><li>Outlaw Justice: Exploring the MC’s brand of rough justice and how far they’ll go to protect their own.</li><li>MC and Supernatural World Clash: The club’s encounters with supernatural threats or allies, blending realism with a mystical twist.</li><li>Lost in the Wild: A survival story where characters are stranded in an unforgiving wilderness and must find their way home.</li><li>Guardian of the Land: Characters who protect sacred or mystical sites in nature from human threats.</li><li>Seasonal Changes & Challenges: The beauty and danger of each season, from summer storms to winter survival, impacting the journey.</li></ul><br></div>
TokyoPewPew
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Sky Blue
