Werewolves, Claimed, and Other Shapeshifters

Angela Citysmith
Angela Anderson, née Lang

Type: Werewolf
Pack: The Architects of Steel
Tribe: Iron Masters
Auspice: Ithaeur
Born: 1969

Virtue: Determined
Vice: Arrogant
Long-Term Aspiration: To remake London

Background: Angela is a woman consumed by pride and ambition. Her goals are lofty, huge, all-encompassing. To most people they would seem too high to reach, like trying to catch stars. But Angela believes them possible – nothing is beyond her grasp. With the proper efforts, one can build cities.

It is Angela’s aim to reshape the spiritual landscape of London. It has long been known that it is possible to alter the spiritual character of a city with careful planning – by directing sunlight in the appropriate places at certain times, by absorbing lightning strikes during storms, by using the right materials. So it was done in Amarna and Heian-kyō, and it was along these lines that Sir Christopher Wren rebuilt London after the Great Fire. Werewolf ritualists routinely alter the resonance of city blocks or isolated woods.

But Angela's dreams are bigger than that – by far. By wedding modern design and ancient ritual, Angela believes it is possible to rework the very structure of the modern city. One can create ley lines and loci, nodes and power-centers. More than that, one can shape a city's resonance in such a way as to influence the mortal herd, instill emotions and habits of thought. With the right architecture and urban planning, Angela believes it possible to create a modern Garden of Eden.

Most werewolves and spirit dwellers that know of her goals think that Angela is naive at best, deranged at worst. Spiritual engineering on this sort of scale is theoretically possible -- Amarna and Heian-kyō proved it. But not for centuries. Not in a modern city of fourteen million souls. There are previous few outside her pack who believe it is remotely possible – and even within the pack there are doubts. Rather than be deterred by the logistical problems involved, Angela felt spurred on. The chance to prove her control and her mastery was... intoxicating. She made London her target because as the largest and most populous city in the United Kingdom, if it worked here, it would work anywhere.

To reach her ambition will require substantial skill, connections, resources, money and knowledge. An architecture student before she found an old alchemical text with a werewolf potion in a chest during an estate sale, Angela began by setting up a property development company, using seed money from her wealthy parents. She started small – local work, setting a standard and making a name for herself, networking with others in the property business. She quickly expanded her operations – both the scope of the work she took on and the area she covered. She secured valuable commissions, won awards for her work, and in 1995 married Theodore Anderson, the heir of the Anderson & Smithfield construction fortune. By the age of thirty-five Angela was one of the big names on the UK construction scene, a seemingly unstoppable property juggernaut with stock in several construction and architecture firms.

Simultaneously, Angela worked on raising her profile in the supernatural world as well. She ran with several packs briefly, charming them, learning all she could, and then moving on. By the late 1990s, she had the connections and resources to set up her own pack, the Architects of Steel. She bound a totem, the war-and-construction spirit Warbuilder, she headhunted quality Forsaken from other packs like Thomas Cushner, and she took her territory in the Isle of Dogs, not far from the headquarters of Anderson & Smithfield, in the Anderson Building she herself designed.

At the moment, Angela has a fair claim to being the most powerful werewolf in London. She's a workaholic, driven and incredibly ambitious. Angela's greatest weakness in her plans is that she isn't really a people person. Angela is a powerful, ambitious, intelligent, ruthless... and not very good at hiding these facts. She sees people as tools to accomplish her larger goals, and though she can maintain a veneer of predatory charm, no one who deals with her is under any delusion that she would shred them to pieces if it served her interests.

And make no mistake, she is ruthless. Citysmith may be best considered a cold, rational, self-interested fanatic. She is driven by a vision of a rebuilt London, a city of gleaming spires and silver factories, of crowds moving in perfect alignment and society proceeding like clockwork, a vision of a clean, precise, elegant city, sterile and beautiful. It is this vision that keeps Angela active, that pushes her forward into greatness and keeps her from resting on her laurels.

Angela lives with her family in a large, Neo-Victorian house in Highgate, which she herself designed. Her husband, Theodore Anderson, stays there as little as he can, avoiding a wife who increasingly frightens him in favor of alcoholism and a succession of mistresses. Angela also has a son, twelve-year-old Leon, a quiet, polite boy who has seen some terrifying things. He spends most of the year at one boarding school or another, and so Angela usually has her lair to herself.

Angela Citysmith is a tall woman of about 5'10'', muscular and physically powerful, with dark blonde hair worn long and amber eyes. In the boardroom, she is usually found wearing business suits tailored at Savile Row and holding snakeskin attache cases, on the streets she dons jeans and tanktops, but in all cases she moves as if her clothing was a second skin. She radiates confidence with every gesture, as if the very idea that Angela could be wrong never entered her mind. Her body is covered with sharp, blade-like tattoos, all spines and serrated wings.
Tribe: Iron Masters
Auspice: Ithaeur

Mental Attributes: Intelligence 5, Wits 5, Resolve 4
Physical Attributes: Strength 6 (7/9/8/6), Dexterity 4 (4/5/6/6), Stamina 4 (5/6/6/5)
Social Attributes: Presence 4, Manipulation 6, Composure 6

Mental Skills:Academics 3, Crafts 2, Computer 1, Investigation 3, Occult (Demonology, Geomancy) 5, Politics 4, Science (Architecture) 3
Physical Skills: Athletics 2, Brawl 2, Stealth 2, Survival (Command Fire x2) 6
Social Skills: Empathy 1, Expression 4, Intimidation (Quell the Crowd) 4, Persuasion (Making a Deal) 3, Streetwise 1, Subterfuge (Deception) 6

Merits: Allies (Architecture & Construction) 5, Hunting Ground 5, Fast Reflexes 3, Indomitable 2, Resources 6, Status (
Architects of Steel) 3, Striking Looks (Amazon) 1, Unshakable 4,
Lair: The Anderson Building, Isle of Dogs; Security 4, Warding 5, Ritual Area (Summoning) 3

Willpower: 10
Harmony: 2
Universal Banes: Aura of Menace, Death Rage, Nimbus (Twisting black serpents over her skin)
Personal Banes: Symbols, Chronological Trigger -- Rage (Full Moon)

Initiative: 13 (13/14/15/15)
Defense: 4 (4/6/7/7)
Mental Shield: 2 (Indomitable)
Health: 9 (11/13/12/9)
Size: 5 (6/7/6/4)
Speed: 13 (15/17/21/19)

Primal Urge: 6
Renown: Cunning ●●●●●, Glory ●, Honor ●●, Purity ●●●●●, Wisdom ●●●●●
1st: Left-Handed Spanner (Technology), The Heart of Things (Wisdom), Two World Eyes (Crescent Moon), Partial Change (Mother Luna), Death Sight (Death)
2nd: Nightfall (Technology), Befuddle (Wisdom), Read Spirit (Crescent Moon), Luna's Dictum (Dominance), Scent of Taint (Insight)
3rd: Iron Treachery (Technology), Voice of Command (Dominance), Command Fire (Elemental)
4th: Create Technology (Technology), Vanish (Stealth), Skin-Stealing (Mother Luna)
5th: Machinegeist (Technology), Urban Chaos (City), Poison Essence (Witch's Moon)
Rituals: ●●●
1st: Ritual Mind, Rite of Dedication, Chiminage Rite, Rite of Hallowed Ground
2nd: Banish Spirit, Blessing of the Spirit Hunt, Call Gaffling, Call Human, Cleansed Blood, Scarlet Messenger
3rd: Bind Human, Bind Spirit, Call Jaggling, Rite of Healing, Wake the Spirit
Essence: 15/6; +2 Starting (Hunting Ground 5; Tithe -3)
Totem Boons: Strength +1, Resolve +1, 1 WP

Attacks...........................Damage.....Dice Pool.....Special
Claw (Gauru)........................ 1(L)............ 13………..9-Again

Curses................Cost...............Dice Pool...........Resisted/Opposed..............Effect
14................... vs. Comp+PU.....................Target takes -5 to Mental Rolls for the Scene
Iron Treachery.........1E..................
12...................-Resolve............................Mechanical object becomes uncontrollable for (Successes) Turns
Poison Essence.........1E..................
15.................. vs. Resolve+PU.................Target takes 1B damage per E spent (1L on ES)
Command Fire.........1E..................
19...................-Defense............................Target takes (Successes) Fire damage; Gauru (+4, 9-Again)
Luna's Dictum..........1E..................
12...................vs. Comp+PU……...............Mind Control
Voice of Command...1E..................
14.................. vs. Resolve+PU.................Mantle of Authority

Thomas Cushner

Type: Werewolf
Pack: Architects of Steel.
Tribe: Bone Shadow
Auspice: Elodoth
Born: 1955

Virtue: Peaceful
Vice: Treacherous

Background: Even as a child, Thomas was quiet and thoughtful. His brother and sister would run and play, shout, scream, make a nuisance of themselves. Thomas was so quiet that people often forgot he was there. He never caused trouble, and he hated conflict – his siblings fought each other often, his parents would tear into one another. It was left to Thomas to play the peacemaker, a role which he never grew to quite enjoy, but in which he got an awful lot of practice.

Upon finishing secondary school, Thomas still didn’t know what he wanted to do with his life. He had brains enough to go to the university, but no direction – so he did what any confused young man would do. He enrolled in a philosophy course. Furthermore, he found that he enjoyed it. Human belief, he found, was interesting. Why did people think this? Why did people think that? What were the ramifications of belief, how did seemingly paradoxical ideas become resolved in the human psyche? It was a puzzle, and while Thomas was perfectly aware that it was one he was never going to actually solve, not completely, one could find out an awful lot about how the human mind worked. So, in 1977, Thomas finished with a combined degree in Philosophy and Comparative Religion, and went on to higher academia.

A man studying philosophy and religion finds an awful lot of dusty old books, and it was while a graduate student at the University of Exeter that Thomas found a few books that talked about physical manifestations of belief. These conceptual entities were everywhere, and they both changed and were changed by what humanity thought of them. Thomas didn't actually believe those books. But they were interesting, and so he read them, and he kept them in his tiny flat on extended loans from the library... and pretty soon he was starting to see glimpses of the spirit world. Thomas became a Wolf-Blood in 1980, and he went through the First Change on his thirtieth birthday in 1985. Somehow, those books didn't seem quite as quaint anymore.

Not to say that those books were entirely accurate. Spirits were shaped more by physical objects and by the effects those objects had on others, but belief did fall into that. Even so, Thomas was enthralled by the Shadow. It was so strange, so alien, and yet so almost-familiar. And so, Thomas talked to them. And talked to them. And talked to them. Thomas has perhaps better contacts with the spirit world than any other werewolf in London. He isn't necessarily the best ritualist or the most respected by the spirits, but Thomas has put shoe leather to the ground and simply talked to more of the local spirits for longer than anyone else.

In the meantime, Thomas lived his life. He got a job as a professor at the University of East London (which is... not exactly a plum position, but it keeps him fed and gives him time enough for werewolf things). He married. He had children. He joined a pack that operated in the East End, and stayed with them for some years.

Then along came Angela Citysmith, who in 1999 managed to headhunt Thomas for her new pack, the Architects of Steel. Thomas considered himself a good man, and he liked his old pack well enough, but when Angela offered a position as chief ritualist of the Architects and a pay raise for quite a lot of money and the chance to be part of the biggest spirit project London's seen in centuries? He said his goodbyes and he took the offer. Every man has his price, and Angela paid Thomas Cushner's.

The Architects paid for Thomas to go back to school, and now the werewolf has a shiny new degree in Urban Development to go along with his doctorate in philosophy. He still teaches a class each year at UEL, but most of the time he works as a consultant/contractor for Anderson & Smithfield, making sure that their buildings 'merge with the local environment,' which is a Masquerade-friendly way of saying he placates any upset local spirits. He still keeps up with his considerable networks of spirit-contacts, but now he does it on the company's dime.

Physically, Thomas is a black man in his fifties, though the life of a werewolf has kept him in excellent condition. He has a slender, tapered face with a neat goatee (he went through a phase when he tried his hand at soulful poetry, and since he met his wife that way he's kept the look even after he realized that poetry was not his skillset). He prefers nice but not overly formal clothes, usually a neatly pressed, buttoned-down shirt and slacks, and could almost be mistaken for a harmless accountant or clerk if not for the intense sensation of heat that follows him. In wolf form, his coat is surprisingly tawny, almost the color of a lion’s.

Ultimately, Thomas is a man of ideas. He's an extremely rigorous, logical thinker, which makes it a simple matter for him to understand the viewpoints of spirits. He has a profound understanding of beliefs and thought-processes and a deeply-irritating tendency to psychoanalyze those around him, though ever since Angela broke his wrist he's kept his analyses about the Architects to himself.

Nevertheless, Thomas puts a great deal of emphasis on getting along with people. He comes off as very laid-back and relaxed, always willing to talk things out with others, whether they're students, spirits, or rampaging werewolves. He's a peacable sort who doesn't make waves, which tends to conceal the fact that he is, to some extent, available to be had by the highest bidder. Right now, that's Angela, but if he ever got a better offer he'd drop her in a New York minute.

Rank: 3
Mental 6; Physical 4; Social 2
Willpower: 1
Primal Urge: 5
Notable Powers: Spirit Contacts; Insufferable

Judge Paul
Paul Lessner

Type: Werewolf
Pack: Architects of Steel.
Tribe: Hunters in Darkness
Auspice: Rahu
Born: 1984

Virtue: Code of Behavior (Law)
Vice: Short-Tempered

Background: Joining the police force was Paul Lessner’s destiny, his fate, his dream. His home life may have had something to do with it, raised in the Council Estates of South London. His parents marriage was not a happy one -- it had started happily enough certainly, his father James strong and handsome, his mother swept off her feet, but then it turned sour. James drank. He lost his job. He drank more. He hit Paul's mother, and struck Paul himself. And when Paul's long-suffering mother finally filed for divorce, James grabbed him and tried to flee the country. Half-drunk and out of his mind, he told Paul that if he tried to run away, he’d go back and kill Paul’s mother. So the six-year-old child kept quiet. The police caught up with him on a ferry to France, and James would go on to spend a good many years in prison. A uniformed British bobby returned the traumatized boy to his fearful mother.

From that day forth, Paul was obsessed with the idea of being a hero, just like his rescuers. His mother, now raising him alone, encouraged the idea and gave him toy police helmets, batons, toy guns, plastic handcuffs, the works. When he got a little older, he watched marathons of Dixon of Dock Green and The Last Detective, and read every Sherlock Holmes and Judge Dredd story he could lay hands on. Law enforcement were his idols and one day he would become one of their number. There was no other option.

He applied at eighteen, was accepted, passed all the physical and mental fitness tests, though the former a bit better than the latter. He entered the training program, learning how to work as part of a unit, how to fire a weapon, how to use a taser. He was zealous and dedicated, as honest as the day was long yet filled with contempt for those who broke the law. Then two things happened in quick succession that shattered his dreams.

The first was Paul’s First Change. Perhaps it was all those nights walking beneath the full moon with a warrior's heart. Perhaps some quirk of genetics from his rage-filled father. Perhaps his beat on the Isle of Dogs, associated with werewolves since ancient days. But shortly after he was put on active duty for the first time, the Full Moon shined down on him, and the face of Luna the Destroyer was burned into Paul's blood.

Never the most restrained of individuals to begin with, the full moon burned with a malignant fury upon him, unmooring him from all thoughts of holding back. If there were other Uratha about, they'd have marked him as Lunatic, for the moon's rays had an ill effect on his thoughts. So when in the course of his beat he came across a petty pimp 'instructing' a teenage runaway with a broken bottle, something snapped. Paul didn't fall into Kuruth. He simply collapsed the man's lung, broke three ribs, a jaw, the left arm, and rendered the man permanently blind in one eye with his bare hands. For some time, it was entirely questionable if Paul's victim would survive.

No one was terribly upset about this, and Paul's early experiences were certainly an exacerbating condition. But at the same time, London bobbies cannot just go around handing out beatings, however justified (the fact that there was a CCTV camera nearby also prevented things from being swept under the rug). Paul was discharged from the police service and ordered to seek counselling, though no charges were brought. It was a harsh enough punishment. In just over a year, Paul had gained everything he had wanted... and lost it. He was back to living with his mother, without a job, without a future, and without his dreams.

He fell into depression and alcoholism. It takes a very great deal of alcohol to render a werewolf drunk, but Paul tried gamely every night. It was during this time that other Uratha finally made contact, but he was such a wreck that none of the tentative contacts felt like recruiting him -- this was before Brick & Bone's arrival in London. The few who did, Paul turned down.

Most importantly for Paul's future, however, he kept walking his beat, even if it was as a civilian and with a bottle instead of a truncheon in hand. Which was why, since Paul's beat was the territory of the Architects of Steel, he came to the attention of Angela Citysmith. Hauled up into the Anderson Building, Paul was sobered up and questioned, and after some consideration, Citysmith made him an offer he couldn't refuse - join their pack, become the Chief of Security for Anderson & Smithfield, train them and run them and protect their territory. It wasn’t the police, but it was the next best thing for Paul. He took the deal.

These days, Paul Lessner (or 'Judge Paul', as his packmates call him after the Judge Dredd comics he's still fond of) is the rather improbably young Chief of Security for the Anderson Building on Canary Wharf. There are certain rumors that he got his job because Angela thought him cute (these are not entirely inaccurate), but in the years since his arrival, Paul's proven his worth. He's a Hunter in Darkness, after all, and he considers the corporate HQ of the Anderson Building to be his own sacred territory, a cathedral to the modern age.

Judge Paul is a broad-shouldered, dark-haired young man in peak physical condition, with skin the color of teak (his mother is from the subcontinent) and light grey eyes. He keeps his unruly curls in what is essentially a military buzz-cut, and usually wears the clothing of a security guard (navy pants and shirt, ironed to within an inch of their lives, and a visored cap) -- as close to a uniform as he can manage. He can usually be found either on duty in the Anderson Building or checking up on the many Architect properties in Canary Wharf. The rest of the time, Paul's either training the other Architects, practicing in the gym, or at home reading police novels and Judge Dredd comics (he still lives with his mother).

It should be noted that Judge Paul is not a very imaginative or clever thinker, but that he does have an absolutely prodigious memory for rules, regulations, and the like. When confronted with problems, Paul refers to those precedents, or else tosses problems up the ladder to the proper authorities, that is, to Angela and Thomas. This actually makes him really quite useful to the Architects, as Paul is the very definition of 'too dumb to fool', and he tends not to ask awkward questions. He still has a volcanic temper, however, which the Architects try and keep under control.

Rank: 2
Mental 1; Physical 6; Social 2
Willpower: 1
Primal Urge: 3
Notable Powers: Police Fanatic; Lunatic; Too Dumb to Fool

Persuasion Benefits Stored: Focus

Melanie Chan (Legal Name)

Type: Werewolf
Pack: The Architects of Steel
Tribe: Hunters in Darkness
Auspice: Rahu
Born: 1991

Virtue: Courageous
Vice: Shy

Background: Little enough is known about the young werewolf commonly called 'Mouse'. As far as most of London is concerned, she appeared one day in 2007 as the youngest member of the Architects of Steel, when Citysmith took her around on a meet-and-greet of the neighboring packs. Those who pay attention to such things know that the Architects are one of the pickier packs in London with regards to their membership, and so assume that Mouse must have some hidden strengths or talents that make her worthwhile.

Certain individuals, such as the other members of the Architects of Steel, or their allies among the Guardians of the Veil or the Lancea et Sanctum, know a bit more. They know that Mouse was sixteen when she joined the Architects, speaks with an accent that is equal parts North China and Liverpool, is of average intellect and has a poor education, is uncomfortable with people, and has difficulties with the concept of self-preservation. They know that she works as Angela's private aide at Anderson & Smithfield, and that she actually lives in Citysmith's magnificent Neo-Victorian house in Highgate.

Angela, of course, knows a great deal more. Not because Mouse told her -- the past is a closed book as far as Mouse is concerned -- but because Angela had the DNA testing done discreetly, and she has a folder of clippings on the Princes Park Murders of August 27th, 2006. Angela is very good at reading between the lines.

Presently, Mouse is the junior-most member of the Architects. Mostly, this means that she gets stuck with the boring but necessary work that can't be entrusted to mortals or spirits. She runs messages, takes notes at pack moots, stands watch during summonings, and otherwise makes herself useful. She also picks up Leon from school every so often. It's not much of a life, but she has a job and she earns money, and Citysmith's home is enormous and far more comfortable than anything Mouse has ever had, even if her alpha is far from a pleasant person to share a home with.

Overall, this situation suits Mouse right down to the ground. She doesn't have high expectations for her life (surviving to twenty-five is sort of her goal right now), and being the center of attention causes her social awkwardness to multiply tenfold. One-on-one, or with people she knows very well, Mouse is a soft-spoken and shy young woman, but not unfriendly. More hostile or uncontrolled environments tend to send Mouse into a panic attack post-haste. Best case scenario? She squeaks and runs away. Worse case scenario? Death Rage. So far the rest of the Architects have kept the worst case scenario from happening, though there have been a few close calls.

Aside from being as quiet and skittish as her namesake, Mouse is reasonably put together. She's sort of an anti-social work-hard, play-hard type of person, in that she'll do everything the Architects ask of her with brisk efficiency, then go and enjoy herself to the hilt. Mostly, this involves a great deal of retail therapy, lots of eating and drinking (and no one can put away food quite like a werewolf), and watching movies on Citysmith's enormous plasma TV with Leon. Mouse likes Leon. He's almost as quiet as she is, and he doesn't judge.

Physically, Mouse is a short Chinese woman with brown-black hair going just past her chin and large, liquid eyes. Positively waifish when she first arrived, steady meals and the Architect's training program have given her a layer of muscle that is nothing to sneeze at. Mouse is dangerous. She's a nervous and twitchy young woman who just so happens to transform into an extremely lethal werewolf when sufficiently provoked. Normally, Mouse wears limited clothing of a loose type, with a particularly fondness for shirts that hang off one shoulder (so as to easily get dressed and undressed for shapeshifting). As a wolf, she's a slim, long-legged creature with a sandy-colored coat.

Rank: 2
Mental 3; Physical 5; Social 1
Willpower: 1
Primal Urge: 3
Notable Powers: Survivor; Mouse

Leon Anderson

Type: Mortal (Wolf-Blooded)
Profession: Pre-Teen Werewolf
Born: 1998

Virtue: Ambitious
Vice: Mischievous

Background: Leon Anderson's childhood could be fairly said to be unusual. Some aspects were more unusual than others. The palatial house in Highgate, the private tutors, the fact that his parents were loaded, these were uncommon but not unimaginable. The fact that his father could regularly be seen drunk at eleven in the morning, that was also not as uncommon as one might hope, nor the parade of strangers wandering about the house. The fact that his father is terrified of his mother, and his mother holds his dad in contempt, also not uncommon. The fact that at age seven he came across his mother laying out a binding ritual for a particularly grisly murder spirit in the basement... bit rarer.

Despite this, Leon's about as well-adjusted a kid as one could reasonably expect, which is to say he's not crazy or traumatized but he is kind of a brat. He's not what you normally think when you think of a brat. He's small (about 4'7'' at this point) and extremely polite, and is quite good at getting along with adults (which is to say, he knows how to stay out of sight when various tall and scary people are working, his mother not least of these). He's reasonably intelligent and thoughtful for a kid, and he's had one of the best educations money can buy.

At the same time, though, Leon has a tendency to want things, and unlike most thirteen-year-olds, he's very goal-focused at getting what he wants. He considers, he plots, he plans. If wheedling and whining do the trick, then he has no shame. If stealing something is easier and safer, well then, he has zero qualms about doing that. It's not quite accurate to say that Leon doesn't understand the meaning of the word 'No', it's just that he always has serious doubts about how it applies to himself.

What Leon mostly wants is to hunt things and mess with people (the quiet kid has a rather skewed sense of humor). About a year ago, puberty hit, and in addition to things like getting (slightly) taller and having a deeper voice, for Leon this involved finding out that he could turn into a wolf. Not the full suite of supernatural lethality that are the Uratha forms, but he can turn into a regular, silver-grey wolf with a short muzzle and a long tail. Being a wolf is fun. It's one of the things Leon likes best about his life right now.

Currently, Leon is sort of the mascot of the Architects of Steel, a wolf-blooded kid who is cute in the way that most kids are cute, and who happens to be the son of the most deadly werewolf in London. He and Angela have a complex relationship (Angela Citysmith can summon Incarnae, rework local ley lines, and maul Azlu, but she was clearly standing at the back of the line when maternal instincts were being handed out), characterized by mutual incomprehension and a fair amount of struggle. His dad, Leon holds in about the same contempt that Angela does. In fact, the person Leon likes most nowadays is Mouse, who is a full werewolf and therefore awesome and admirable, while at the same time being much closer to his 'level', and neurotic enough not to be too intimidating.

As mentioned, Leon's a small kid with a slender frame, who regularly looks younger than his age (people are still asking him if he's ten yet, which makes Leon wish he could Death Rage). He has dark hair inherited from his father, and dark brown eyes that can look almost black at the right angle. Despite this, he has a definite confidence about him, as if he is the master of all he surveys.

Rank: 1
Mental 2; Physical 2; Social 2
Willpower: 1
Arete: 1
Notable Powers: Blood of the Wolf

Nicholas Kwaku Atenka
Nicholas Atenka

Type: Child of Anansi
Clan: Ghanaian
Born: 1980

Virtue: Hopeful
Vice: Lustful & Gluttonous

Background: Nicholas Atenka comes from money. In order to talk about him, then, we have to talk about what specific kind of money he comes from. The Atenka family has been a local power in Ghana since precolonial times, when they maintained landholdings and merchant operations around the city of Nasande -- then a small but prosperous trading town, a hundred miles or so northwest of Accra. Atenka Holdings was incorporated in the late 1920’s, with the fortuitous discovery of gold on family-owned property near the town, and with an equally fortuitous string of fudged regulations and malleable British officials to iron out the paperwork in the family’s favor. Nasande got bigger. In the intervening years, the Mampamhwe Mine was largely worked out, but the Atenkas diversified. Now, they have interests in cacao, timber, and bauxite, but primarily operate as a land development and construction firm -- lord knows they own most of the land to begin with. Nasande is now a small city of 150,000-odd people, and the buildings just keep going up. Ghana’s is the fastest-growing economy in the world, after all.

Now, while the Atenkas do have a reputation of sorts, it is important to note that they’re not "designated antagonist" evil. However, they do tend to be a rather potent combination of intensely self-interested and ridiculously charismatic: at best, they produce folk singers, activists, and PR reps; at worst, Boss Tweed-style political gamesmen, long con artists, playboys, and used horse salespeople. Nicholas’ father, Solomon Atenka, falls just about in the middle of that range. As the C.E.O. of the holding company and patriarch of the family, he’s effectively bought out Nasande’s local government and police force, and rules over the city in shady yet laissez-faire manner. Thanks to his efforts, Nasande is raking in entirely more foreign infrastructure investment than it should, even though most international investors soon realize that their “subcontractor” is pulling the strings and taking the lion’s share of the profit...the Atenkas are very, very persuasive. In the streets, the common man needs to know who to bribe to get by, and sure, there’s that big honking estate on the outskirts of town, but the city’s doing decently enough on the whole that nobody seems to care. It’s a cushy setup.

It’s this setup that Nicholas was born into. The fifth of eight children, he was not in line to take over the family business -- thanks to a quirk of inheritance particular to the Atenkas, that honor is to go to Solomon’s eldest nephew, on his sister’s side. That notwithstanding, Nicholas was still absurdly well-off, and, once he showed himself to be competent, gently encouraged to work in the family’s interests: the Atenka filial strategy seems to be “have an awful lot of children, let the free spirits off to do their own thing, and pick the next generation of power brokers from those most suited to it.” His upbringing was pampered, his schooling private, and his higher education abroad, namely an economics degree at Oxford -- while he himself wasn’t overtly brilliant, both he and his family were ridiculously good networkers, and it’s something of an open secret that he either donated, glad-handed, or (possibly) blackmailed his way in.

University was a whirlwind of cocktail hours, dance parties, black-tie galas, and beautiful, beautiful people. Nicholas was in heaven. Sure, he learned economics somewhere in there, but that really wasn't the point. The friends and connections he'd made -- as well as his frequent excursions to London -- had given him a major soft spot for the English high life. It was loads of fun, of course, and that was the main draw…but there were also opportunities to be had there, of the kind that his family hadn't yet gotten around to exploiting.

In this, Nicholas differed somewhat from the rest of the Atenkas, who, while supremely influential in their own local sphere, tended not to range too far from the nest geographically. After returning home for a number of years to work for the family business as a sales liaison to international clients -- and, of course, to spend a great deal of time enjoying his considerable wealth -- he made a pitch to his father. The Atenkas, at present, had no property holdings and limited personal influence in Great Britain. Nicholas would go back to London and fix that, acting as speculator, purchasing agent, and one-man branch office. His current plan is to build or redevelop a series of high-end luxury condos for the city's upper crust, alongside a few middle-class apartment blocks aimed at immigrating African professionals, with the expectation that the former project will fund the latter.

And that, nominally speaking, is just what Nicholas is doing right now, having been in London for about the past six months. Of course, that's not all he's doing. While he does feel quite strongly about his new business initiative, and will work to see its success, he is, at heart, a ridiculously wealthy guy in his twenties who likes having as much fun as is remotely feasible. So, by day, he schmoozes with the city's propertied upper class at board meetings, golf games, and business lunches, and by night…well, he's going clubbing, or drinking, or dating, or dancing with that same upper class, and others besides. Strictly on a proportional basis, Nicholas' nights are far longer than his days.

One last note. Nicholas’ business venture is legitimate on its face, but it does have some supernatural ramifications as well -- specifically, that “apartments for immigrants” project is an explicit attempt to get more Children of Anansi to settle in the city. Thus, on a broader level, he aims to scout out London’s supernatural landscape, evaluating the risks and opportunities it would present to a small incoming colony of werespiders.

Personality: Nicholas is smooth. Nicholas is effortless. Nicholas is the coolest person you know, and it doesn't even seem like he has to try at it. And so, Nicholas can convince nearly anybody to do nearly anything, because everything he suggests sounds like a fantastic idea. You would find this mildly uncanny, if he weren't so charismatic that you couldn't bring yourself to describe it as such. When he parties, he's never a raucous drunk, but invariably manages to become the center of attention by the end of the night, and invariably goes home draped with one or more beautiful people. In business settings, he's not always the most academic person in the room, but he's sharp, and he's so good at selling himself. In short, there is not a velvet rope in the world that can hold him back, and he knows it.

A few other notes. Like his ancestor, Nicholas has a bit of the trickster's instinct, often pulling one over on the more pompous windbags of his circle with barbed wit or subtle pranks. Also like his ancestor, he can be a little distractible from time to time…most notably in his romantic life, to rather unfortunate effect. While he feels slightly less beholden to family tradition than, say, the rest of his family does -- which is why he's ranged as far north as he has -- he is also slightly more responsible than they are, to humanity at large. Emphasis on the "slightly," here: he's still very much the devil-may-care opportunist. That said, though, he does maintain a number of deeper friendships among his vast sea of casual acquaintances and hangers-on, and generally tries to do right by those people.

Nicholas speaks in a velvet-lined bass-baritone, and with a moderate Ghanian accent: strong enough to be noticeable, but still easily intelligible to Britons. The interviewer in this TV segment has a different vocal timbre, but gets the accent about right.

Rank: 2
Mental 4; Physical 1; Social 4
Willpower: 1
Primal Urge: 3
Notable Powers: Trickster

Jean-Pierre Musavaka

Type: Child of Anansi
Clan: Congolese
Born: 1944

Virtue: Ambitious
Vice: Greedy

Background: When the discussions began about establishing a colony of werespiders in London, one of the questions first and foremost on everyone’s mind was protection. Given the regrettable tendency of the Uratha to adopt a “chew first, ask questions later” policy towards any shapeshifter with more than the standard number of limbs, and the fact that the Children of Anansi were, strictly speaking, muscling in on their territory, it seemed a good idea to have someone with the new colony who knew his way around a fight.

But who to send? This proved to be a tricky question for the clan elders in Nasande. Obviously, whoever it was had to be a good fighter. That wasn’t so hard, as Africa had seen some of the bloodiest wars of the last fifty years, and though the Children of Anansi tended towards love and not war, there were a fair few veterans among them. Secondly, they had to be loyal, which was a little trickier in what is essentially a race of tricksters and con artists. They had to be willing to move across the world to an entirely new society, which was also tricky. And they had to be steady enough not to cause needless trouble with the hair-trigger werewolves, and as anyone who has ever met a Child of Anansi can testify, finding one that doesn’t cause trouble is nigh-well impossible.

But Solomon Kwaku Atenka and the clan elders put their heads together, asked their relatives, and eventually coughed up a candidate in the form of Jean-Pierre Musavaka, an uncle-in-law of Solomon and a distant blood relative of Nicholas himself, on his mother’s side. He fit all of the criterion. Kind of.

In his earliest years, Jean-Pierre had been a small farmer in a remote part of the southern Belgian Congo. He helped his father farm peanuts, actually, flirted with the local girls, avoided the Belgians as best he could, and listened to the village’s one radio breathlessly when Patrice Lumumba announced independence in 1960. In a space of half a year, one of the most brutal colonial regimes in Africa had been disassembled. Things were looked up…

…and then the Congo crisis hit. Katanga seceded, mercenaries were called up, the Belgians started supplying money for arms, and it turned out that fighting paid better than peanut-farming. Jean-Pierre, at the ripe age of sixteen, signed up as a fighter, and he’d be doing it on and off for the next forty years.

First was the Congo Crisis, which would last well into the late sixties. Jean-Pierre, by dint of skill, the natural talents of a werespider, and a hefty dose of luck, survived the whole thing unmaimed. When it was over, he’d managed to amass a good amount of pay, and then it was back to peanut farming. Unfortunately, Jean-Pierre was not a very good peanut farmer, and so in the early seventies he signed up as a mercenary in Angolan Civil War. And then in the Ugandan Civil War and in the Rhodesian Bush Wars in the mid-80s. And in the First Congo War and in the First Liberian Civil War in the early and mid-90s.

He got better at it, and he got rich, and he didn’t really bother farming peanuts anymore. He built a big house and got married and had children. And it quietly ground Jean-Pierre’s psyche into the dust. Somewhere along the way, he broke, and no one noticed – not even Jean-Pierre.

He’d killed people. Lots of people, and though he never killed civilians, he saw a whole lot of dead ones. He’s been shot, burned, blown-up, and has caught diseases for which there aren’t even names, has seen friends and comrades die, and all for what? Add in the supernatural aspects – Jean-Pierre is well familiar with both the Cult of the Bloody Tongue and the Cult of the Spiraling Worm, and has fought and killed two Leopard-Men in his time – and by the dawn of the new millennium Jean-Pierre crawled into a bottle and refused to come out.

That’s where he was when Solomon Kwaku Atenka came and asked him to go London. His children were grown, he and his wife were old, and the Big Man of Nasande was offering a lot of money and a few pulled legal strings. So they moved to London, bought a very nice house, and now Jean-Pierre drinks himself to death in English pubs instead of African homes.

Truthfully, Jean-Pierre Musavaka is no one’s idea of a dangerous werespider mercenary. He’s a skinny little man with short grey hair and wrinkled skin the color of teak, with a comfortable beer belly. He spends most days sitting a pub, surrounded by a gaggle of cronies gathered from the African émigrés of London, debating politics, women, and (most importantly) cricket in middling French and worse English. He’s not a fan of the British, but his wife Marie adores the city, and so Jean-Pierre’s made his peace with it. He’s usually half-drunk, so that helps, and he still has that flirtatious, worldly-wise charm of an old Spider, which helps since he has all the associated bad habits.

That said, when Nicholas comes by and actually gets Jean-Pierre to sober up, the man is astonishingly dangerous. Despite all that he’s seen and experienced, he’s still sharp, a past-master at the booby-trap and the ambush, with more combat experience than most werewolf packs put together. When he puts on his mercenary cap, he’s cool and calm and impeccably sure of himself – he’s been shot at by professionals, and the supernaturals of London do not impress him.

Jean-Pierre’s spider-form is that of an African Funnelweb spider (family Agelenidae), a long, slender, brown-black creature of decidedly predatory aspect that moves much faster than any spider should.

Rank: 3
Mental 3; Physical 7; Social 2
Willpower: 1
Primal Urge: 5
Notable Powers: Guerilla Tactics, Combat

Samantha Akuba Danquah
Sam, The Shadow Lady

Type: Child of Anansi
Affiliation: Freehold of New Jerusalem
Court: Autumn
Entitlements: Magistrate of Wax
Clan: Ghanaian
Born: 1988

Virtue: Confident
Vice: Deceitful

Background: Here’s how it usually goes. The customer has a problem. Perhaps business isn’t as good as it might be, perhaps the wife’s cheating on him, perhaps he wants to cheat on his wife, whatever. But then he finds a card with a phone number and a little message, and when he calls the number, the smooth, elegant soprano on the other end tells him to go to a little park out in the West End, and to wear a rose-flower in his lapel or on his hat. So the customer goes there, and he finds… not exactly who he expected to see.

She’s young and beautiful, but carries herself like an old woman and walks with a silver-tipped cane. She’s dressed in men’s clothing of a bygone era, a sharp black suit with a lime-green fedora and a lime-green shirt beneath the black jacket and bright green gloves. She has a dead rose in her breast pocket, dark and withered. Her name is the Shadow Lady.

She’ll listen to the customer’s problem, and she never judges, and she seems to know what he’s going to say before he says it. She tells him that she’ll make the problem go away, but there’ll be a price. Not just a monetary price, though there’s that too. But something strange – buy a dozen Barbie dolls, each different, braid them together with a little girl’s hair and throw them into the Thames. Take a BB gun and break every streetlight on the block. Buy every issue of Maxim from 1988 and burn them on a pyre. If the customer balks, then the Shadow Lady sometimes gives a little demonstration – a chorus of unearthly whispers rises from the park bench, murmuring the customer’s name. After that the customer usually does what the Shadow Lady told him.

For a little while, his fortunes turn around. Business picks up, the home life gets calmed down, customer’s strutting around like a rooster. He goes to the Shadow Lady for more, and she tells him the future, and works her magic, and he pays her even more money… right up until the magic stops and the Shadow Lady stops answering phone calls and the customer’s right back to where he started. Just a few thousands or tens of thousands of pounds poorer.

And Samantha Akuba Danquah, the self-titled Shadow Lady, starts looking for another sucker.

Samantha (‘Sam’ to her friends) was born in the estates of Walthamstow, to a pair of Ghanaian immigrants. Her father was a too-smooth singer at local nightclubs from whom Sam inherited an absolutely lovely singing voice and the ability to turn into a giant spider. He ran off periodically during Sam’s girlhood, though he’d always come back. From her mother, a sensible, stolid woman who cleaned offices during the evenings, Sam got a figure to die for and slightly more ability to plan ahead than her dear old dad ever showed.

Two more things. First, Sam was a brainy girl, and she was good at noticing things about people – people said a lot if you just paid attention to how they acted. And second, Sam got the Second Sight pretty early on. School became all sorts of interesting when you could see who the local spirits were pestering, and helping her mum clean offices got to be downright fascinating.

It started as a summer job, really. The local corner store was having problems because of a brood of despair spirits in the neighborhood, and so Sam offered to help business by chasing them off (though she didn’t put it in quite so many words). Sam was genuinely nonplussed when Old Man Akoto gave her a hundred pounds and a bag with enough chocolate she could barely lift it as a thank you. But she caught on fast, and started making arrangements, and when she finished the local Comprehensive, she went into business full time. It beat studying for a paralegal’s job.

What Sam does is about one-half flim-flam and one-half spirit-herding. She’s a big believer in image, hence her outrageous outfits and the Shadow Lady title, and she’s a pretty experienced cold-reader by now. She still works with her mum as an office-cleaner, and tends to scout out her targets and plant her cards that way. Past that, she mostly moves spirits around – if someone’s business is failing, coax some greed spirits to take up residence, if they’re having trouble at home, joy-spirits can be lured over. People being people, Sam deals with a lot of lust spirits. With her customers making offerings to the spirits, Sam’s got a fair amount of pull at the lower levels of the Shadow – the whole business looks rather like a rickety chain of deals, with Sam juggling multiple spirits and customers at any one time and taking commissions and kickbacks off every deal.

She draws the line at anything more active than that – no possession, no violence, and no subversion of free will. Partially that’s because the whole idea squicks her out, and partially because the Guardians of the Veil would come down hard on her like a ton of bricks. That said, she has no problem cutting and running when her chain of deals falls through, which it invariably does – spirits get too demanding, mortals do the offerings improperly, spirits just get bored and wander off, or Sam just botches a deal (she’s still new to this whole thing). There are quite a few spirits and mortals who’d like to have a word with Sam, though she’s careful not to antagonize anyone from whom she can’t hide.

When she’s not ‘on the job’ Samantha tends to be cool, even austere – she’s spent so much time dealing with alien spirits and dissecting the emotional vulnerabilities of her customers that it’s hard for her to turn it off and just hang out – but despite that she enjoys being around people. She’s a bit on the creepy side as a result, something which isn’t helped by the aura of strangeness that surrounds her, as all that spiritual energy starts to rub off (also she’s a were-spider, so there’s that).

All the same, Sam tends to be popular. First, she’s got money, lots of it, and she spends it like water. Her usual dynamic is to do a series of deals and arrangements, which requires a lot of careful planning, negotiation, and just general effort. Then when it inevitably collapses, she takes the money and splurges on the clubs, clothing, the best food, presents for people, trips abroad, and so on, and tends to run out in a couple of months. Then it’s back to work.

Secondly, Sam is drop-dead gorgeous. It’s a withdrawn sort of beauty, the kind that doesn’t flaunt itself but instead draws you in through the deep-green eyes and long, black hair that goes just past the shoulder. She favors black, usually skinny black jeans and black tanktops and t-shirts that accentuate her slender figure, with jewelry that looks like silver but is usually highly polished steel or white gold. Even Sam’s spider-form is pretty, that of a jewel-like Cucumber Spider (Araniella cucurbitina) with translucent limbs and a lime-green abdomen.

Rank: 2
Mental 3; Physical 2; Social 4
Willpower: 1
Primal Urge: 3
Notable Powers: Bamboozle

Kevin “Moxie” Moxley

Type: Werewolf
Pack: Brick and Bone
Tribe: Ghost Wolf
Auspice: Irraka
Born: 1973

Virtue: Righteous
Vice: Cowardly

Background: Not every werewolf gets to be someone. For every one with a good education and a lofty goal, there are two more with no real hope and no real goal beyond surviving each day. Some of them have lived that way all their lives; others end up on the run from the authorities and the Pure. Brick and Bone is both. The pack is full of misfits and dispossessed, all Ghost Wolves and all with something to hide from. They never know whether the people keeping an eye on them are from the local benefit office, or whether the Anshega have found them. Other Forsaken consider them a bunch of screw-ups, which is accurate if not particularly nice, and none more so than their alpha, Kevin “Moxie” Moxley.

Some people just don’t get a break. Kevin’s one of those people. Even before his Change, he couldn’t hold a flat for more than six months, and with a criminal record including drugs, petty theft, burglary and a count of arson behind him there was no hope for him of getting a real job. The stupid thing is that none of it was his fault. Sure, he nicked the odd car and sold some speed on the side, but nothing serious. Nothing really bad. He wasn’t getting kids hooked on crack or mugging old people on the street. At least, he’s pretty sure that he wasn’t. He just couldn’t get by with what he had, so he took things he thought nobody would miss. He was wrong.

In and out of prisons through his 20s, Moxie couldn’t settle down. In his own mind, he was the victim. Things went wrong for him, and every time he tried to fix them, they just got worse. A friend got in trouble with a loan shark in Manchester, so Moxie did his best to destroy the evidence. A small fire turned into a large fire while he was helping himself to the contents of the safe, and he was arrested for arson. He underwent his First Change before going to court, and ran. He didn’t stop running until he was in Germany with just the clothes on his back and a rusty knowledge of the language. He tried being productive, putting himself to use on a building site, but the local werewolves wanted him out of their territory yesterday. He stuck around for as long as he could before running back to England.

In Sunderland, he found others in the same position as he was. No territory, no pack, no direction. Werewolves just trying to get by when the world didn’t want them to. Moxie could deal with it if it were just him, but seeing others in the same position ticked him off. He gathered them together and formed Brick and Bone. They quested for a patron, looking for a spirit to watch over them, and they found one willing to take them. If only he’d paid more attention to the way it worded their ban, Moxie might have saved them all some trouble, but he just couldn’t follow everything. He’s regretted that for a long time.

For a while, the packmembers plied their trade across the north of England and overseas, under the cover of a group of cheap laborers who don’t mind being paid cash-in-hand with nothing going on record. All of them had a shady past, with the police after them for everything from petty theft to arson. Worse, wherever they went, the Pure soon find them and use them as prey. Brick and Bone had a high turnover, but just about everywhere the pack ended up there was a Thihirtha Numea who needed to skip town but didn’t want to brave the journey alone. The situation was made worse by the pack’s patron’s ban — a particularly convoluted bit of wording that has a habit of attracting more trouble than the pack can handle. When things get too much for Brick and Bone to handle, they moved on again — often leaving the local werewolves to clean up the pack’s mess.

All this travelling started to wear on the pack, and so Moxie had a bright idea. There was one city where even a bunch of screwups like Brick and Bone could settle down. London. A few years back, they moved to London, took a tiny slip of territory that no one else seemed to want around the Blackheath, and tried not to get on the bad side of every other werewolf in London.

Unfortunately, the pack isn’t very good at it. If something can go wrong for Brick and Bone, it will. Beshilu hide in the building sites the packmembers work on, and the number of off-the-books workers who end up Urged or Claimed skyrockets whenever the pack is around. It’s not the pack’s fault, but no one ever believes them when they say that. Their reputation follows them like the smell of burning buildings, their totem’s ban just causes more and more trouble with mortal and supernatural authorities alike, and just when things couldn’t get worse, Moxie found out why no one wanted the Blackheath when a psycho crow-faerie with a disturbingly keen smile paid him a midnight visit. Moxie doesn’t sleep very well any more.

Moxie can’t help but worry. If he were on his own, he’d be fine, stealing what he wanted when the dole money and illegal laboring dried up. Now he’s got a pack to lead, and he doesn’t want to let his packmates down. He helps them out, and they help him out. It’s the closest he’s had to a family in a long time. He’d do anything to keep them safe and keep them together. Now if only he just wasn’t so bad at it.

Moxie’s a short, scrawny man in his late 30s. He’s perpetually dirty, and the grime settles into the lines on his rat-like face to make him look almost 10 years older. He keeps his hair hidden under a woolen hat even in the height of summer, and wears at least three layers of grimy clothing at any one time. His jeans always have holes in the knees, and his boots look one step from falling apart. In his Urhan form, Moxie has long, midnight- black fur that harkens back to Black Shuck.

Rank: 2
Mental 3; Physical 4; Social 2
Willpower: 1
Primal Urge: 3
Notable Powers: Jinxed

Jake Carter

Type: Werewolf
Affiliation: People's Republic
Tribe: Ghost Wolf
Auspice: Cahalith

Virtue: Righteous
Vice: Hasty

Background: Jake Carter sees the machinery of control wherever he goes. Faceless corporations brand every street, marking their territory. Cameras monitor everyone as they go about their lives. The police and the ambulance service and schools and universities, all set up to instill control into people. Other people can see everything that happens on his territory from miles away, and there’s precious little that isn’t locked down in meaningless social rituals or local politics. That hampers his ability to protect his territory, putting him out of touch with the scrap of the city that he claims along with the rest of Brick and Bone. Outside control strangles his city, and Jake is sick of it.

It started at university. Bored of the trashy paperbacks and the dry course texts and sick of the petty backstabbing of students and faculty alike, Jake retreated to the library in search of other ways of doing things. There, he found Bakunin, Proudhon and Goldman, and something caught in his mind. He thought he’d found something. Not a better way of doing things, but something different, something that would put him back in touch with his surroundings. How could he feel at home in a city that was controlled from miles away? He had big ideas, but didn’t have the capability to do anything — at least, not until his First Change showed him otherwise. Along with other werewolves who wanted to change things as much as he did, he set about making things different.

He had mixed success. Protests and marches are all well and good, but they don’t go far enough. For a while he gave speeches, led rallies, and wrote articles for underground newspapers, but that never really changed anything. So then he shifted to direct action, bombing a small house that the local Fire-Touched used. Except the bomb fizzled, the Fire-Touched survived with minor wounds, and now Jake's on the run with an arrest warrant out for him and his name on a domestic terrorist watch-list. He ended up joining Brick and Bone just to get out of town quickly.

Jake’s a burned-out idealist at heart. He’s taken to psychedelics, losing himself in visions of what could be and what should be. He wants to make things better, change his territory for the better, but these days he's in hiding and on the run. When there’s nothing he can do toward his cause, he turns into a bitter, depressed man, drinking or drugging himself close to a stupor. The rest of Brick and Bone have noticed his problem, but he’s kept the depth of his fanaticism hidden from them. They don’t realize just how much he’s invested of himself in a cause that seems to be going nowhere.

Since the People's Republic has come up, he's left Brick & Bone on amicable terms and is trying to make another go of it. Only time will tell if this time things will go better than the last.

Looking to be in his late 20s, Jake looks rather ragged around the edges. He doesn’t shave for weeks at a time, and his dark hair falls well past his shoulders. His green eyes sweep every room he enters, looking through everyone and making sure he knows where the exits are. He tends to wear jeans and a sweatshirt in any weather.

Rank: 2
Mental 3; Physical 2; Social 4
Willpower: 1
Primal Urge: 2
Notable Powers: Rabble-Rouse


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