Lucian Crest

Albino Spirit Shaman


Name: Lucian Crest
Concept: Paranormal Investigator
Age: Sixteen
Auspice: Ithaeur
Tribe: Bone Shadows
Virtue: Prudence
Vice: Greed

Power: Intelligence: 3, Strength: 2, Presence: 3
Finesse: Wits: 3, Dexterity: 2, Manipulation: 2
Resistance: Resolve: 2, Stamina: 2, Composure: 2

Mental: Academics: 1, Investigation 1, Medicine 1, Occult (Spirits) 4
Physical: Athletics 1, Brawl 1, Survival 2
Social: Empathy 2, Expression 2, Intimidation (Spirits) 4,
………. Persuasion (Spirits) 3

Language (First Tongue) 1
Totem 3

Fear of Drowning

Health: 7
Willpower 4
Essence 7
Primal Urge 1
Harmony 7

Wisdom: 3

Gifts & Rites
Gift List: Crescent Moon, Elemental, Shaping, Death, Insight,
…………..Warding, Father Wolf, Mother Luna
Max Rank: 3

Gift ………………………….. Roll ……………………………… Page
Two-World Eyes: …… Wits + Occult + Wisdom …………….. 105
Sense Malice: Int + Empathy + Wis VS Comp + Primal Urge 122

Rituals: 2
Rite ………………………….. Roll ……………………………… Page
Rite of Dedication: Harmony Ext 10 successes 1 turn/roll 150
Shared Scent: …… Harmony Ext 5/Packmate 1 turn/roll .. 151
Banish Human: … Harmony VS Resolve ……………………149
Funeral Rite: ……. Harmony Ext 10 successes 15/roll ……149
Rite of Contrition: Harmony Ext 10 successes / Spirit’s Rank
1 min / roll 156

English, First Tongue,

Free: 4
Bonus to Skills: 2



I was 16 years old when the Change occurred. The Change made me wise to the world much earlier than I should have been. I still look like a long haired albino kid, but my eyes held the misery of a past loss, of my life being ripped away from me and forcing me to grow up while my world came crashing down. The ordeal left my childhood broken, but my mentality matured by leaps and bounds as the walls of my childhood innocence came tumbling down…

Life was hard for me as a Kid. My appearance left me with little friends in school, and my fascination with “fairytales” pushed away the remainder of them. Being born an albino left me with stark-white skin, White-blonde, almost childlike fair hair down to my mid-back, and eerie Pink eyes. I was no taller than 5’6”, and weighed about 130 lbs. My mother always told me that my “prince-like look” would get me a lot of friends. But life was a cruel mistress.

I was often the target of bullies, and it frustrated me to no ends that there was nothing I could do to defend myself. To fight back would not only get me mangled, but it would also get me sent to the office while the attackers would get off for free. Of course, they were the “popular” clique. The Athletes who put the school on the map. No one wanted to offend them. So I spent most of my time wrapped up in books. Ghosts, werewolves, vampires, shifters, the fey, and all the other supernatural beings fascinated me. I spent a lot of time at home drawing pictures of different paranormals attacking the popular kids in my Journal. It amused me to no ends.

My father left our family before I was born, another fuel for the bullies to pick on me about, so all that I had in my life was my mother. We were extremely close. She was the one light in my dark life, the one person whom supported my fantasies and loved me unconditionally. I am sure she didn’t believe in ghosts and spirits like I did, but she encouraged me anyways.

We were pretty poor, my mother working at an office job during the day, getting off late at night. But we were happy with a simpler style of life, never really needing money to find happiness. We owned a small 2 bedroom house a few miles from town. Set back about a quarter mile from the road.

We lived in ‘England?’, where there was the most reported “ghost sitings” in the world. So I worked to become a paranormal Investigator. To most it was a joke job, but I passed the application test with flying colors, which turned quite a few heads, considering my young age of 15 at the time, and the fact I was still in school. But they allowed me to work the job.

They acted like people were superstitious and their silly claims that “ghosts were real” were groundless, but it was free money so why not indulge them? I was let down by their attitude, but there was times in the job where they acted… odd.

They screened the jobs they were given, and most of which they offered me to tackle first. But there were times where they got serious and told me that “We will handle this one, kid. You need more training before you can handle it.” Then they’d laugh at me like I was the butt end of the joke.

The bullies at school never relented in their barbs at me, but it became much more manageable since I had a hobby that I deeply enjoyed. I continued like this for a year, enduring the bullying, and drawing whenever it got particularly bad. I had just about every athlete drawn in my Journal, being murdered by some form of imaginary being. I even had the sketch of this crazy wolf that charged me and bit my arm as I tried to defend myself. I expected it to rip the skin off my arm and continue its attack, but it merely stared at me with a bloody maw, then turned and fled into the woods. I didn’t even know we HAD wolves in the area.

One day after school, the entire football team was in the parking lot as I tried to walk home. They walked up to me and practically mugged me, pulling my backpack from me and dumping the contents onto the ground. They laughed hysterically as they kicked my books and folders around. Papers scattered everywhere. Frustration had me fisting my hands and clenching my teeth when I could do nothing to stop them, but desperation hit when one picked up my journal to throw. “NO!” I yelled as I ran forward and tried to wrest it from his hands, only to be thrown back into a car. In all honesty, I should have let him just throw the journal around with the rest of my stuff like he planned to. But my outburst drew their attention to the journal. As one grabbed my arms and held me back, the rest gathered, laughing at me as they opened the book. Theirs laughs stopped as they turned from page to page. Their humor replaced with anger as they saw my complete lack of respect for them. The quarterback’s hands were shaking with uncontrolled anger as he got to the end of the book. As one, they all focused in on me.

It was at that point I assumed I needed to leave. Quickly. The guy holding me was distracted by the other’s shift of mood. While he asked what was up, I dropped to the ground and rolled under the car and to the other side. I heard footsteps as I got up and took off down the street. I Wove through houses while I mentally counted up what all I was sure to lose by leaving my backpack and its contents on the ground, but right now self-preservation was kicking in.

I managed to make it to my mom’s job and slipped into the door. They never came into the building, so I assumed I had lost them. I would hang out here until my mother got off work. That wouldn’t be for a few hours, but that didn’t matter…

She seemed worried that they would openly mug me in public, and called the cops. But they merely stated that since we lacked actual proof of the mugging, that we didn’t have a case, and shrugged us off. I suspected that he was a father of one of the Athletes… Figures.

We had a peaceful ride home, chatting about nothing in particular. When we arrived at the entrance to our driveway, we saw smoke off in the distance. My mom cursed when she saw it and sped down the driveway. As we rounded the last corner, we revealed our house, completely doused in flames. My mom went to call 911, but we never got signal out here. I tried to run into the house to test a phone, but the entrance was completely covered.

The cocking of a gun had me spinning around. The quarterback and his 2 henchmen stood there, him holding the pistol towards the ground. There was no humor in his eyes, only resentment. I screamed at him, letting my anger and despair flow unbounded. My mom was desperately trying to get signal to call 911, while yelling at them to get off of the property.

The leader simply raised the gun and eyed down the barrel to me. My mother stepped in front of me and screamed her head off at them. The 2 henchmen grabbed her and pulled her out of the quarterback’s line of sight.

The quarterback announced to me that no one disrespected him. That he was a god among us mortals, and we were to treat him as such. I told him he was a deranged head-case and that we were treating him as such. That pissed him off.

He screamed at me that I was nothing, a pigment-less nobody who was beneath his notice. That he would eradicate my poor existence from this earth.
He looked at my mother, then stated that perhaps she would be a somebody if my existence didn’t drag her into the ground.

I don’t know whom he was paying attention to, because both me and my mother were screaming at him at the top of our lungs.

One of his henchmen pulled her back and she hit a tree. I charged him, the safety of my mother outweighing my fear of the quarterback’s gun. I got 4 feet, only to hear a gunshot pierce the air. I suddenly realized I was on the ground. And my leg hurt, excruciatingly so.

I looked back, but my vision must have been off from the fall, because all I saw was a bloody mess. In the back of my mind, I heard my mother screaming profusely. I looked up to see her bound by the henchmen as the quarterback stroded forward. Everything seemed numb as I moved to lift myself off the ground. It was like my body acted a second after I commanded it to move. The quarterback kicked my face, knocking me onto my back, but I felt nothing.

I lied there, staring up at the Crescent Moon in the sky. It really was pretty, surrounded by stars as it was. My muffled hearing barely recognizing my mother’s dismayed wails. I think I was going into shock.

The gunman smiled as he aimed the gun at me, but my mother broke loose and tackled him, wrestling for the gun. During their struggle, another gunshot broke through my muffled hearing, followed by the thump of a body hitting the ground.

A frown crossed my face as I heard the gunman dismayed shout that he didn’t mean to shoot her. That she tried to take his gun and it went off accidentally. I wasn’t sure what he was talking about, so I turned my body to see what was happening.

The quarterback had his hands on his head as he stared at a bundle of clothes on the ground. His clothes were disheveled and grass-stained. His gun had fallen to his feet. Blood was pouring from the bundle of clothes on the ground, and that bothered me somehow. He bent down and adjusted the bundle, revealing a bloody face. A very familiar, bloody face…

The shock of seeing my mother’s face on a bloody bundle of clothes ripped away the numbness clouding my mind. That bastard burned my house down, then he shot me! And then, to top it all off, he had the gall to shoot my mother!! Oh god, my mother!

“Mother!” I screeched as I dragged my body to her. It hurt like hell, but I ignored the pain. She wasn’t moving. And I felt nothing as I laid my head on her chest. I gripped her wrist but felt not a pulse. She was dead… Merely moments before, we were driving home talking about movies and Ice-cream. Now she was gone. The one person in the world whom accepted me as I am, was bleeding out her last in my arms…

I looked at my hands. They were covered with her blood, but they stained them not. No, the one with the bloodstained hands stood behind me, though not a drop of her blood marred his fingers. Her life was ended by his hands, and only now did he have the decency to feel remorse. That pissed me off more than anything. I sat my mother on the ground and stood up, my injured leg forgotten. Hatred and an unsettling fury wedged its way into my head as I stared at the guy. His two henchmen were trying to drag him away, one of which noticed me standing and began walking towards me. My anger was blinding me, turning everything into a hazy red. It was too hard to think through the emotion building upon itself in my head.

The goon placed his hands upon me to push me back to the ground, and in the back of my mind I heard a piercing wail followed by a terrible gurgling sound. Screams followed as the thump of a body hit the ground a good 20 feet away. The sound of gunshots caused me to regain my sense of sight. I looked down upon goon #2 and the Quarterback, a good 2 feet shorter than me. Outright panic filled their face. Goon #1 was nothing but a mangled corpse with half his neck missing. I could taste his blood in my mouth.

The quarterback was shooting his gun at me, and though bullets were thumping into my chest, I felt nothing. All that existed was Anger. Rage. Fury. Pain. “DEATH!” I screamed, Seconds before I felt my body charge Goon #2. Words never left my mouth. What took its place was the piercing howl of a wolf. A predator. In the back of my mind, I witnessed goon #2 get lifted and ripped in half. The quarterback kept shooting at me, but his bullets had long-since been emptied from his gun. I stalked towards him, and heard him beg for mercy. I stared deep into his eyes, and went numb as the anger took control. One second I was staring at his terrified eyes, and the next his bloody, mutilated body scattered across the ground.

Those whom corrupted my life were dead, and that was almost just as bad as the deed they committed. I was full of blinding anger, and nowhere to direct it. I felt myself attacking trees and anything that stood in front of me. I made my way towards town. Attacking everything in my way. A car passed by, and I stopped it before it could pass, and threw it into a tree on the side of the road. As I stalked towards it, I noticed a group of wolves revealing themselves, emerging from the surrounding shadows. There was like 8 of them, and all were the size of a horse. Their eyes screamed predator, and they stalked towards me.

My mind-altering fury immediately did a 180 and turned into an encumbering fear. I shifted backwards, away from their advance, causing them to proceed more confidently. I had to get away from them. They will hurt me. Punish me. Torture me. Slay me. EAT me!

I must Run away! Escape. Evasion. Freedom! I turned and took off. The ground appeared much nearer as I ran through the woods on all fours. The prospect didn’t bring out a reaction in me. All that I could think of was escape. I heard footsteps behind me and I picked up my pace. It seemed that no matter where I went, there was a wolf there, running with me. I ran for what seemed like forever until I felt too exhausted to move. I leaped over a small ravine and stumbled as I landed, rolling on the ground and landing on my side, panting. The wolves converged on me, but there was nothing I could do. I heard a whimper leave me, and then blessed silence…

I awoke what felt like days later, reeling from the crazy dream that intruded in my sleep. It involved blood and murder and stalking wolves. Perhaps I shouldn’t read books before I go to sleep. They seemed to be affecting me. I threw the covers off me, only to hustle to grab them and pull them back over me. Why am I naked?

I fully opened my eyes and saw a bunch of activity around me. Guys and girls were tending to a camp, cooking food, working leather, etc. I had no clue where I was or why I was outside my room for that matter. I wasn’t sure whether or not I should ask where I was and bring attention to myself. But the decision was mute when a wolf curled up on the ground beside me yipped and they all turned and stared at me. I didn’t even SEE it!

They slowly approached me, and I backed up off the bed, only to hear a wolf growl behind me. I spun to keep it in my line of sight and fell over when I stepped on the covers I wrapped myself in. I just laid there on the ground as a wolf came forward and sniffed me. This was not how I thought I would die. Stranded naked in the woods and attacked by a survivalist wolf group.
One of the women walked up to me and began speaking to me, saying to not panic. That she knew of the trauma that played out a few days ago. She wept for my loss, and would take me in and help share the burden of my sorrow. Most of her friends were dressed in animal hides, but she wore a simple dress. I shook my head, and focused on her words. “What are you talking about? Where are we? Whom are you? Why is this wolf sniffing me? And why am I naked?”

She looked at me with sad eyes, and described my dream to me with perfect clarity. “How do you know what I dreamt?” Her eyes closed as she told me that she was afraid it wasn’t a dream. My house was really burned down. I really got shot. My mother was really dead. And I really lost control and mangled the attackers.

“There’s no way…” No way she was correct, for the weirdest part of my dream made it so. I somehow went from being almost a foot shorter than the quarterback, to being about 2 feet taller than him. And stranger yet, when I was chased by the wolves, I was running on four feet. There also was that piercing howl that left my lips when I tried to scream at the quarterback. Also the blood in my mouth after I attacked the Goons…

“While I find you recounting my dream very odd, I apologize but it was nothing more than a dream. Too much of it conflicted with reality, and I don’t appreciate you trying to manipulate me by making me think that everything that I held dear to me is gone-”

My verbal onslaught drifted away as she stared at me with solemn eyes, then slowly her body began to change. Her face got pointier, her ears bigger, her body smaller, her arms shorter… Slowly, she changed from a beautiful woman to a breathtaking wolf. She looked at me, shifted her ears, and tilted her head. In my mind I knew she was saying “Satisfied? Does this conflict with your reality too much for you to accept the truth?”

The wolf spoke not a word, but through her body language I knew exactly what she was thinking. I slowly looked from her, to the other wolves and humans in the camp. There were 8 total. The same as the amount of wolves that stopped me from slaughtering that car of people in my dream. The same number of wolves who ran with me until I grew exhausted and passed out.

I looked to the edge of the camp and saw the ravine that I saw in my dream, the one which the wolf tried to jump over and stumbled upon landing. Was it all real? Was I the wolf?

I dropped to the ground as reality came crashing down around me. “My mother is really dead…?” The wolf nodded slowly, and ducked her head mournfully as she slowly started to shift again. I numbly stared at her as she re-emerged as the beautiful woman again, completely naked.

One of her men walked forward, carrying 2 suits of clothes. She modestly got dressed with the suit he gave her, then he handed the others to me. I stared at her. In my dream, I transformed to a quadruped, then returned as a naked human. And right here in front of me she did the exact same thing. “I… am a… a wolf..?”

She chuckled, then proceeded to describe the race of Werewolves to me. My mind was numb as she told me about the secret supernatural world that surrounded us, hidden from the human’s vision of reality. She described their rules and rituals all werewolf packs followed. She explained the importance of a pack, and offered me the honor of joining hers. I nodded emptily, still numb to it all.

A few weeks passed, and it grew easier to forget my past and proceed with life. My leader introduced me to an elder werewolf, whom was a member of a special group called the “Bone Shadows.” She tested my knowledge, and found me worthy of her group. She taught me all about rituals… and spirits. She showed me what they could and could not do, and how to use that knowledge to manipulate them into doing my wishes. My old concept of the supernatural seemed like a joke compared to the real thing. I tried to make contact with my Paranormal Investigators colleagues, but no response. During some free time, I went to our building, but I found it empty. No sign that the 3 story building ever housed offices of people. Very eerie…

I showed up at my mother’s funeral. My picture was there alongside my mothers. It would seem that I was listed as missing, and now it was assumed that I died on the same night as the vicious mauling. I appreciated this chance at closure. To see my mother buried, and my old life buried with her. After today, I will only move forward, never to look back.

Back at camp, life was as good as it could be. My albino appearance made me a target for bullies in my old life, but people seemed fascinated to see a White Wolf among the pack. I actually had people walking up to me and chatting with me. I appreciated it, but I felt it was too late. I wasn’t the same kid looking for friends anymore. I spent most of my time living in my own head. Even surrounded by my adopted pack-mates, I felt alone.

Not too long afterwards I noticed the pack starting to slip. We had a small territory, and too many Weres trying to hunt in it. I knew that it was hurting our leader to think about it, but she had to make a decision. She knew she had to either reduce their numbers, and have the rest live in peace and happiness, or she had to invade her neighbors, and take their territory, at the risk of slaughtering her entire group should they fail. But I felt that was not necessary. Her true pack consisted of her and 4 others, she merely adopted the last 3, me included, to help us out and introduce us to the “new world”. It was only a matter of time before we were to “leave the nest” as they say.

I was grateful for her taking me in, but I knew as well as she did that it was best that I left. She helped me get back onto my paws, but I didn’t really mesh with her pack much. So when she came up to me one night, I spoke the words before she could speak them. She seemed grateful that I wouldn’t cause an incident, and mournful that we had to leave like this. She said that I could travel with the Elder she introduced me to, whom was headed for The United States..
So I bid my farewells to the pack, and left with the Ritualist Bone Shadow Elder. We boarded a modest boat destined for the “land of the free.”

We traveled for a while, and finally we emerged at a pretty wealthy port city. She told me she had a home prepared for me, and looking at the surrounding area, I was ecstatic.

Before we left the city, She brought me this elaborate full-body white suit complete with a cloak and hood to protect my face from the sun’s harmful rays. It kind of reminded me of the attire used by the lead character on “Assassin’s Creed”, the video game. But it wasn’t quite like that. No, this was unique. “Special made by a friend of mine. You look like you could use some protection from the sun, haha.” I thanked her, my face overflowing with gratitude…

We drove over the countryside for a few days, the terrain getting worse and worse, until we finally appeared at a rundown city. There was a group of people gathered, and we moved towards them. It seemed that they were Weres as well. She introduced me to the group by name, and they moved me next to a group of 4 weres. We were told that this territory was left open after a Were tribe was taken out. Other tribes had taken what they wanted, and this area was all that was left. We were to group up and form a pack, then we were to protect this land, labeled “the Dump”. The Weres left us, the elder included. I turned to look at the group whom I would live the rest of my life with…
“Hello, My name is Lucian.”

Lucian Crest

Wolves at the Gate Gfletch09