wolves-against-the-world

[wolves-against-the-world]

POV You’re at a ball and find yourself being judged

Details under the cut

This was supposed to be a doodle but I’m the worlds slowest artist oop

Designing these outfits was fun! By that point in time, Sasha and Milo have made a name and quite a bit of money for themselves, which they have to show off at social functions along with their allegiance to the Army of the Night (crusader cross + moon). Gold instead of silver, for obvious reasons.

Are they judging your life choices? Looking for a flirt (or more)? Sizing you up as a meal? Probably all three. Watch out.

#sasha wolfhart #milo wolfhart #werewolf #artists on tumblr #digital illustration #mesnwhile Attila is making meaningful diplomatic connections #I just know in my heart that Milo gets all the gossip and Sasha secretly loves listening to it #they’re both so bitchy lmao #gossip counts as intelligence from the enemy camp

[wolves-against-the-world]

Hard at work all day every day sexualizing these old men

[wolves-against-the-world]

As average life expectancy among werewolves has increased since the Renaissance, symptoms with growing age have become clearer. Top of the list are joint issues and chronic pain, though the common onset age is hard to diagnose over such a lengthy timespan.

Most older wolves have some chronic pain, though transformations usually help with healing, even for a little while.

Attila got his first cane as a gift from the pack they were helping out during London's ripper craze (unrelated). He was always too proud to use it, even when he needed longer and longer to recover from moons and even daily life. He'd put it in arm's reach because he knew it would help, and then leave it there because his pride was still too strong to allow for such a visible sign of weakness. But even pride can't hold up against time.

#i tweaked some things in the edits to make Attila's condition more prominent. no point in having him be famously the oldest werewolf #if it doesn't affect the story. it did from the beginning but it feels more congruent now st least #can you tell i follow a lot of spoonies? because I'm basing his symptoms and coping mechanism off of them #wolves against the world #worldbuilding #attila matei

[wolves-against-the-world]

Witchfinders

Jay started from a shivering half doze when their target finally appeared. May slapped his arm several times, making empty fwhoop-fwhoop-whoop sounds on his winter jacket.

"Told you!" She hissed triumphantly.

"Great," Jay said between chattering teeth. They’d first noticed him about two hours ago. Well, May had, because May was a psychic, something she never ceased to mention she hated.

"It's not like I picked this", she always said. "Do you know how fucking inconvenient it is to always see people's negative feelings and whatever lurks around without being able to do anything about it? If that was what I wanted, I'd have become a tabloid writer."

Jay wasn’t certain she was not exaggerating - psychic abilities were genetically recessive, and you needed a lot of luck to get more than a few psychics in any lineage.

She was admittedly a keen observer though, which had made her entire family fairly successful spiritualists until that sort of thing became embarrassing instead of impressive.

Jay looked at his radar and found the screen infuriatingly empty. He already regretted spending the exorbitant amount of money (about 70 pounds) on something this useless. The seller - a sturdy old woman who had been well known for being the only reputable psychic in the country, ironically because she didn't like the spotlight - had assured him it could detect latent magic. So far it had only been useful for detecting cellphones, microwaves, and one time, memorably, a minor radiation leak at a cancer clinic.

May was staring at something a bit away, which was impressive since there was very little to warrant more than a passing glance. To one side, there were the houses in their neighborhood that hadn't changed in about as long as they could remember, if one discounted the pressure wash of several house fronts that had made plaster drop on unsuspecting people for a week. To the left was a fence restricting access to the train tracks out of town, or into town, depending on your perspective. Current demographic surveys suggested the former.

May was staring down the street, her jaw set in the way it was when she was very certain of something. Now, very certain of something didn't mean she was right, not even in the supernatural realm.

"Absolutely not," he said.

"Why not??" Her voice carried the indignation of her entire heritage.

"Because last time you did this, we got laughed out of a theater AND a restraining order! You weren't even right! We need a better plan than just going up to random people and hoping for the best!"

“Then make a better one.”

They stared at one another.

Jay scowled. “Fine, then go up to a possibly magical human that might just zap us out of existence.”

"Oh don’t be stupid. He’s not a witch, I just think he's carrying some sort of magical item."

"You don't even know that's a he, how can you tell what he's - what they're wearing under those layers? Could be a tall woman, for all we know. And besides-" He had meant to bring up the frankly nerve-wracking cold, and was pleased to have found a logical place to slot the topic into. "It's cold as balls, we should go home and - wait-"

May gave him the sort of look that typically made people's toenails roll up, dampened slightly by its path over her shoulder. She left Jay to catch up with her as she strode down the street, catching up and then holding the pace of the figure she'd locked in on. May, full name Mayflower Justicia Borden, was very tall and the sort of person that was remarked on by being remarkable against her will. She hadn't spoken for most of her school life, until she realized people picked on you for things that were out of your control anyway, and from then on made it everyone else's problem.

"Excuse me, Sir, sorry to bother you-"

The personshaped black spot turned slightly and for a second she thought "fuck, it's a woman after all, she's gonna be mad" until the figure pulled off a pair of headphones and turned to reveal, indeed, a man, if the beard was any indication.

"What?"

The tone wasn't unfriendly per se.. but the man didn’t have a very welcoming face. If that was by accident of birth or a choice was to be seen.

"Right, sorry Sir, this is going to sound very odd-"

"So sorry about that, we're uh-" Jay came to a rather undignified halt with one hand holding onto a street light lest he turn his last step into a sledding trip.

The man stopped walking and observed them. He was in his mid-60s, tall, but not remarkably so, handsome but not remarkably so, with a long-ish, square-ish face and brown-ish skin. The only thing not -ish about him were his eyes, which were too blue to be anything but contact lenses. Jay felt acutely seen, in a way he hadn't felt since May's grandmother had read his future and been right all the damn time, too.

The difference to Mrs Borden was that this man wasn't trying to hide the cold calculation in his face. He'd picked the contacts well. It turned the gaze from smoldering to arctic, sending a physical shiver down Jay's spine.

"It's not very polite to follow strangers," the man pointed out. His voice reflected the same control, not using a syllable more than necessary.

Well, shit. Jay already saw another policeman call his parents to ask what the hell he was up to, and why he couldn't do this in his university town instead. "Uhm."

Even May seemed taken aback, visibly calculating how far they'd been away, then decided it didn't matter. "So sorry to bother you, Sir. Do you happen to be carrying a magical item?"

The stranger didn't even blink.

"If you're trying to rob me or sell something, that's an odd way of going about it," he said. His expression remained flat, which would have been funny if Jay hadn't been shitting his pants for a reason he couldn't pinpoint. Somewhere in his brain an instinct so old it preceded upright walking woke from a coma to scream "DANGER DANGER DANGER GET THE HELL OUT OF THERE". But Jay also had anxiety, so that was really not out of the ordinary.

"What, no!" Jay stammered. "We're, uh, we're paranormal investigators. She's a psychic!" He gestured to May, who nodded with all the dignity she could muster.

"Didn't know psychics used knives these days.”

May shifted uncomfortably, revealing a switchblade knife. A pink one.

"Where'd you even get that?" Jay hissed. "Aren't those illegal?"

May ignored him, easing her grip on the knife but not putting it away. "Going up to strangers can be dangerous."

"Undoubtedly," said the stranger.

"As my, uh, colleague said, I'm a psychic. You're carrying something with a strong magical aura, we just wanna make sure you're safe. And, uh, maybe take a look at it. For research."

"And I'm sure you're not just trying to sell your services." His calm tone stood in stark contrast to his words. Well, at least he didn't yell at them like the last five people.

"Absolutely not!", May assured. "We're volunteers. No money involved. Uh, unless we're doing like. An exorcism."

Finally, the man showed a physical response: he lifted an eyebrow.

"Right, uh, could you, like, warrant a guess what it might be?"

The man pondered this for a moment. "No." He cut May off when she wanted to speak. "Mind walking with me for a bit?"

May had already said yes before Jay could tell her how stupid an idea this was, so they walked. The stranger introduced himself as Zachary. When Jay asked where they were walking, Zachary told him an address that was vaguely familiar. He still spoke mostly in single sentences, but it was enough to reveal an American accent. Maybe they'd gotten lucky. Americans believed all sorts of shit.

Zachary told them he'd just gone grocery shopping, since his cousin wanted to make dinner. Even though the bag looked like a pimple about to burst, he carried it easily in one gloved hand. As they walked along the empty and depressingly gray street, May filled him in on their work, emphasizing their good intentions and downplaying how little they'd actually accomplished so far. She omitted the radiation incident, which was probably their biggest success, though in a different way than they'd hoped for. To his credit, Zachary didn't remark upon their names, which raised Jay's opinion of him substantially.

May described and then quizzed their new friend on various magical artifacts he could have come in the possession of, but save for a notebook bought in a second hand shop, he denied knowledge of all.

Maybe, Jay thought, they were being set up. Maybe the guy was wearing a microphone and camera, stuff like that was so small these days, shit, he could just use his phone for all they knew. They'd be laughing stocks for all the internet to see. Or maybe he was a psychic himself, or even a witch, fully aware of his item's traits and just entertaining himself. Staking out the competition.

The closest coven they had identified was in Sheffield, a circle of old ladies who used their abilities to enhance their healing potions and alcoholic beverages. Didn't mean there couldn't be others, more hidden ones, doing scary things.

Jay tried to get May's attention, but she was deep into explaining the intricacies of aura reading. They'd made their way from the train tracks to the square in a needlessly complex route. Maybe he was one of those guys. A manly man who didn't ask for directions. Or he was just enjoying the walk.

"So you can see everyone's aura?" Zachary asked. His voice was still the eery drone of pack ice moving, but there was a lighter note of curiosity now.

May paused longer than was necessary or comfortable.

"Mostly. Non-magical people don't know how to hide their aura, let alone that they have one. If it's gone the person is either dead, magical or, like, really introverted. The colors often give me a hint of someone's personality and the movement can indicate emotions. They get very bright when someone is using magic. It's not an exact science unfortunately, experience mostly. My grandmother was really good at it in the end."

"Fascinating." Zachary looked around and turned into a side street instead of returning to the road following the train tracks. "How about my aura, then?"

"I thought you didn't like people selling you things?"

"I don't like buying the cat in the bag. I'm sure my cousin wouldn't mind hosting you for dinner, though."

"That's really not nece-"

"Sure," Jay said, thinking with his growling, frozen stomach instead of his brain. The trip back home would take a minimum of thirty minutes walking. He'd also finally matched the address to the town's only pub (and B&B and event location). They were safer among people than out here, completely alone.

May gave him a searing look, but Jay was used to that.

"Look at that, we're already there." Jay decided to ignore how ominous that sounded.

Indeed there was the front of the pub, painted black and reading something incomprehensible followed by "goat" and the words "founded in 1367". How true that was had been up for debate since the pub opened.

"How are you liking Britain so far?" Jay asked conversationally. "Lotsa old buildings here compared to home."

If there was a physical reaction, Jay didn't notice.

"The weather could be improved upon."

"Yeah," Jay said unimaginatively.

The door moved disappointingly silently. Jay’s face began to itch in the sudden warmth and he hurried to take off his coat before he cooked to death. He'd been in the pub once and now found it no less unpleasant but all in all no different than any other several century old pub. The room was almost entirely made of wood, the woodworm probably doing more work than the actual struts by this point, blackened by smoke and maybe tar.

"Welcome back," someone purred.

Jay flinched, nearly flinging his coat at the figure. The woman gave them a smile, wholly unimpressed by the reaction and decidedly closer than social convention dictated.

She was stunning, simply put, though too short to make it as a model. Dark hair flowed over a shiny turquoise top, and tight black leather pants showed about anything anyone wanted to see. Around her hips hung a belt made of silver medallions.

"You've brought guests, how lovely."

While Jay was still working on rebooting his brain, he was dragged away from the door and the woman's hypnotic gaze. They were met by a short, middle-aged man on the verge of fat with a kind, round face. He greeted them warmly and hugged Zachary, giving him a kiss on the cheek. Corner of the mouth. Maybe.

Jay was still puzzling about that gesture in the context of the man's priest collar when the next revelation hit: It was quiet.

Not in the way of a forest near a predator, but in the way a theater is quiet waiting for the performance to begin. He could tell May was thinking the same. There were about a dozen people in the room, all of which were looking at them.

"Nice to meet you," May said stiffly. "Is the pub not open tonight?"

"We rented it out for a few days," the priest said in a very much not American or British accent. "We're doing a...reunion of sorts. Our friends came from all over the place, you see." He smiled. It was a very nice smile. He seemed like a nice, reasonable person, Jay thought. Hardly a witch of any kind. They hated churches, they'd never survive all the time it took to become a priest, even if it was a pretty good diversion.

"My name is Mayflower," May said, shocking Jay and probably all her ancestors. "I'm a psychic. Zachary is carrying a magical item and we want to make sure you're all being safe."

"We're not trying to sell anything," Jay added hastily. In a much smaller voice he added: "Though he said something about dinner."

Jay was aware he missed a lot of things in life. His brain just had different priorities than other people. He did not miss the sudden interest of the people at the back table, a short man with almost implausible golden curls and a duo of women with heights firmly outside the average in both directions.

"A magical item?" The priest did not seem too alarmed. "That is indeed something worth investigating. Come and sit with us then, we'll have dinner soon."

May looked around, scanning everyone, but not coming up with an excuse. They went to sit at a table near the front, where the woman in blue had already taken a seat, one leg in knee-high boots lazily draped over the edge. She unwrapped a piece of blue bubble gum and tossed it into her mouth.

"My friends, this is Eliza. She has an interest in the occult herself." He was interrupted by an enormous man with alarmingly ginger hair throwing himself into one of the seats. "You shoulda told me there's stuff going on. What's that about magical items?"

"These are our guests Mayflower and..." He looked at Jay. "Jayden?"

Jay just shrugged, too taken up by May trying to break his hand. He didn't want to draw back so obviously but she pinched his finger really hard and -

Ah.

Jay shot a stealthy look towards the priest. His radar was vibrating in his pocket. Both men were wearing a silver sigil in the form of a pendant and a brooch. They looked different than Eliza's, the wolf head combined with some sort of pointy cross, but unmistakably related.

Jay considered if they had in fact not stumbled into a witch coven but some weird nationalist fraternity. Not fraternity, specifically, considering there were several women, but some sort of... Cult? They were all different ages, too, the woman, Eliza, looking no older than 25 and the priest being in his 50s at minimum.

"Really cool, uh, pendant you got," Jay said before his brain could tell him this would get them killed. "You into, what's the name again, that fantasy show where people die all the time?"

"Didn't like the ending much, but the books are good," Eliza said in that way too sultry voice. The big man made a face between distaste and amusement. He leaned onto his elbows, resting his chin on one large but surprisingly delicate hand. A lot of things about him were paradoxically delicate, from his pale, freckled skin to a face looking surprisingly young despite the visible lines around his eyes and mouth. His hair was the color of wildfire, curls pulled into a ponytail that left bangs spilling over the side of his face.

"Sooooooo, what kinda psychics are you?" he asked. "Telling the future? Making potions? Kinda hard to find proper witches these days."

"You've met proper witches?"

Eliza loudly popped her bubblegum.

"I just said they're hard to find, didn't I?", said Red.

"I'm not a witch," May said stiffly. "I read auras and magical signatures." Not for the first time, Jay wished desperately he could see what she saw. What were these people's auras like? Were they dangerous? Upset? Laughing at them?

"Yours is blue," May said in the tone of voice she used when making shit up on the spot. "Light blue, a bit silvery. Like a tuna."

Red didn't seem offended by the comparison. "Neat. How about Sasha?"

"Who?"

"Zachary, sorry."

"It's grey," May said without even turning around. "It's a pretty rare color, but it means he's a very controlled and logical person."

Red nodded enthusiastically. "He is! How about me?"

"You're curious," Jay said. "Silver and blue are the colors of the sky and sea, you like to travel, can't be in one place for too long. You're also not really into pointless workouts, but like to apply yourself."

May had meant to kick his leg, but had thought better of it. Jay felt vindicated.

"That's something every half-baked carnival psychic could tell you," Eliza huffed. She swung her legs off the table, heels thumping the wooden floor. "Tell me something secret."

There was a long pause.

May knitted her brow, then held out her hand. "Okay."

Eliza observed her, still chewing her bubblegum. Then she placed her manicured hand in May's. Her nail polish was bright blue. "Knock yourself out."

The moments May sat there seemed to draw into eternity. Eliza kept the vague expression of distaste, while Red was leaning forward in obvious interest.

Jay tried to get an overview of the room in case things got ugly. Zachary was speaking with a tall man behind the bar he hadn't noticed before. Under the beanie he'd taken off, Zachary had shoulder-long brown hair with a white streak at the front. He hadn't seemed the type for that trend. The other man had waist-long black hair, a goatee, and wore sunglasses inside.

The table in the back was silently sipping on their drinks, clearly trying to listen in. The priest - if he was one - had disappeared.

The tiny bell over the door rang and then took a nosedive, hitting someone with a muffled thud. "Aw man," the someone said.

"There you are!" The priest was back, somehow. It was quite disconcerting.

The newcomer was a lanky youth, looking to be barely out of secondary school. His pale cheeks were flushed from the cold, a thick scarf wrapped around about everything above the belt.

"My apologies, this place wasn't too easy to find. Are we still on schedule?"

Under the thick jacket, the youth was wearing a white shirt and black bow with matching suspenders, meaning he was either a nerd or a waiter. Hired help meant paperwork, meant questions asked if someone disappeared. Jay relaxed a bit.

He really was being too paranoid. The worst thing that had happened on any investigation was being forced to drink bad tea and being laughed at. And the radiation exposure. That was pretty bad.

Still. Nothing supernaturally bad had happened.

He liked May a lot but her abilities were nothing to brag about. They were just two kids who liked to dig into things most people didn't take seriously.

The young man hung up his coat and immediately began sorting things behind the counter, finally removing the man with the sunglasses. Coming around the corner, the man revealed an arm covered in Nordic occult tattoos. Enthusiast, witch, or fascist? Impossible to tell by looking.

"You're a con artist," May said suddenly.

Jay turned back to the table. Eliza had raised one very accurately formed eyebrow. "Takes one to know one I suppose."

May didn't take the bait. "You're from Scandinavia, liv

#wolves against the world #short story #more like medium story idk why i always write entire epics #tw suicide mention #very briefly tho #i have an entire document with short stories about the pack but this is one i feel comfortable sharing. some outside perspective

[wolves-against-the-world]

They arguably ARE important figures in their universe. Attila, Sasha, and Milo were part of a clandestine strike force during the crusades that followed its leader's own ambitions. When the crusades didn't work out, they eventually left the 'Army of the Night' before its inevitable dissolution. By that point Attila had risen to the equivalent of a bishop, though without his own diocese due to the travelling nature of his work, and his closest confidantes Sasha and Milo were officers of the actual army.

After the grip of religion on the community waned, they were founding members of the council and helped negotiate the Warsaw Accords. Attila is often called in as a mediator and advisor for his calm but practical nature, whereas Sasha and Milo tend to help more on the physical side of things. They are held in high regards for their experience and the fact they lived this long, but of course it also means old enemies aren't hard to come by...

Does your OC have any connections with any important figures in their universe?

#my wolf boys #lore #foxy speaks

[wolves-against-the-world]

So fun thing, I'm writing about monstrosity and gender for my bachelor's thesis with a focus on werewolves.

It's absolutely WILD having grown up on the Internet with people who specifically make monstrous, hairy, queer, female werewolves because that is so not the norm and I didn't really think about it.

Monstrosity as a whole often is a stand-in for everything society tries to repress, queerness, class, race etc and the absolute majority of werewolves starting in literal antiquity to the middle ages to modern film are either killed or cured depending on their moral alignment.

I'm currently reading a fascinating master's thesis (by Elizabeth Clark) about female werewolves in film and she really hammers in how much lycanthropy stands in for the undesirable as a whole.

In many ways it's connected with sexuality and power to those outside - Clark argues that for male werewolves in western film it's the threat to white middle class masculinity. For women the werewolf is masculinity through the capability of violence as well as hairiness. Yes really.

She shows that female werewolves are split into good girls (who try to repress their nature and are willing damsels in distress) and bad girls (often connected to being seductive). The good girls are afraid of their power and grovel and are not shown to transform fully, just the eyes and teeth usually. (She actually used an episode from early Supernatural as example... I feel old.) The bad girls do transform and take on masculine traits as well as a sexual dimension (that's possibly racialized).

She also points out a tendency in film to show women as capable of violence or strength but not being allowed to look like it. They have to stay feminine and slim (think Buffy, any action heroine that's implausibly not muscular). She connects it to real-life aberrant gender expression like female bodybuilders and athletics in general, but also body hair. There was even a quote from an interview around Underworld in which the actors said nobody would want to see female werewolves "thuggish, hairy women". It's very much in line with Judith Butler's theories on gender enforcement and pretty much what any GNC but especially butch women have been saying for decades. I mean, shit, we're STILL not showing leg hair even in shaving commercials.

No bottom line, I'm just summarizing what I've read so far.

#Anyway it's only tangentially related to my thesis because I'm writing about powerwolf but it's SO interesting #not watw #foxy speaks

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Went to the medieval fair today and I was SO TEMPTED by all the gorgeous outfits and accessories

Fun fact about me: I can see on that level where I can speed run a project for a garment to come out wearable and stylish if a little rough. Sewed a Regency era shirt in a week kind of thing. The one thing I can't do myself is metal and leatherwares and that shit is EXPENSIVE.

I really do want to cosplay Sasha though. He's my boy

#I'd go for milo too but I'd need even more armour and also he's a big strong dude and I'm a 5'5 twink #foxy speaks #not writing #sasha

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Milo: I got an idea, what if we hang a mistletoe but you have to fight someone if you're under it.

Attila: Milo no.

Sasha: Mistlefoe.

Attila: Please stop encouraging him.

#wolves against the world #incorrect quotes

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Existing as a cryptid must have done a almost complete 180 at some point. Before, keeping the secret was of utmost importance - if a werewolf was seen, you had to make it look like a normal animal attack at all cost before the actual hunters came in and looked for your pack.

Today, it's actually MORE secure to make sure witnesses saw a werewolf because nobody will ever believe them. Sure, there's still hunters around but they have as little credibility as the witnesses and about as many resources.

#werewolf #cryptid

[wolves-against-the-world]

St. Zacharias

Sasha had a lot of names in his life, few of them self-chosen. Growing up the son of a choleric miller and a traveller mother who seemingly abandoned him, he was looked upon with suspicion from an early age. He distinguished himself by being a brilliant strategist, ruthlessly efficient with zero patience for political asskissing and very comfortable with using his wolf-given abilities for violence. The Mad Mutt was one of the nicer names. If he had died a glorious death in the name of Christendom, he may just have been granted sainthood, like so many others with a questionable past. Except Sasha was just a bit too cynical to die a martyr. Having a good name after your death didn’t help you a whole lot if you died miserably, after all.

#lycanthrope #werewolf #worldbuilding #original character #medieval fantasy #wolves against the world #sasha wolfhart

[wolves-against-the-world]

I never meant for Wolves against the World to be a love story, it was originally about these old werewolves with a dark past and questionable morals to find community in their town of humans, to find connection after such a long time of being isolated by their nature.

Milo was meant to be the main character. The entire B-plot about his kid was meant to be the focus.

But then somehow Sasha and Attila pushed him aside and they were very much in love, and I couldn't just pass that up.

#wolves against the world #werewolf #worldbuilding #sasha wolfhart #attila matei

[wolves-against-the-world]

Likes don’t increase visibility to others! Please reblog this to spread the word! 

I think Werewolf is an inherently queer medium

This is all a part of a larger long-term project.

I am trying to hold the World of Darkness to higher standards of inclusivity.

Book 1: Cliath

Meet The Gaians — a chosen people blessed by Gaia of whom among them there are heroes who are born, blessed with the power to Change. They have been charged with the duty of protecting her and her brood, and among them are fellowships from every culture. They are largely comprised of Kinfolk. Vanguards of the earth, they follow the Codes and Creeds of renown in chiminage to the spirits in exchange for favor, protection, and power to strengthen their Fellowships and they form one of several primary factions.

A small number of Gaia’s chosen have been gifted the ability to shapeshift through either bite or birth into animals; warriors joining the fight against the Wyrm. The Gaians have many secret names for these shapeshifters between their cultures, and they range across many animal species and tribes, but the most common among them in these times are Garou.

This sourcebook includes information on First Changes, Rites of Passage, how people become werewolves, and what they're fighting for. Book 1 is effectively a players guide, including enough comprehensive character creation rules for people to create rank 1 Garou.

The World of Darkness is implied to exist just beneath a facade that all others take for granted as simply being a world gone wrong. When the Change happens to a Garou, human or otherwise, the world they once knew ceases to be. The Apocalypse is said to be something happening to everything, everywhere, simultaneously, and on every level. This transcends the concept of everything succumbing to a singular event but many small ones.

In many ways, the Garou themselves are emblematic of this Apocalypse, with these former lives ending and sweeping the cub into something far bigger than themselves. A Call To Action is the theme of Book 1.

Book 1: Cliath goes into warborn, bitten, wolf-born, and human-born lives leading up to the change. It presents a curated depiction of the Garou from the perspective of those who would mentor them. There are not a lot of conflicts, profound lore, or politics so much as 'this is what we are, this is what we do.' Functionally, this can be considered a Players’ Guide, containing your attributes, abilities, advantages, and Merits and Flaws. Gifts and rites will be truncated to rank 1 for the most part. Guidelines for new STs will be found here, including enough powers and enemy stats to keep their troupe of players on their toes. This will also include things like chargen and descriptions of attributes, abilities, and advantages. This will also have many details on packs and the importance of one's packmates. And what better way to introduce new players than to have it happen in an all-new setting for storytellers to introduce their players to the game: the first three chapters of Dead Mountain!

Dead Mountain isn't going anywhere. In fact, it will be used as the foundation for this series. Already-finished parts of the Dead Mountain will be released over the next few months, and a delayed release of the full chronicle will come next spring. The scope of Werewolf: the Essentials will strongly diverge from past game traditions. In past core books and settings, there was an intent to showcase the world at large, written from the perspective of people who had never been to these places. In the end, many details were laughably wrong or mediocre representations that didn’t appeal to the groups they represented. We want the World of Darkness to be HUGE. So, we will be laser-focusing this project to represent the Garou from the Pacific Northwest as an example, with guidelines on how to make your own World of Darkness at your locale HUGE too!

CALLING ALL CHARACHS!

We cannot make this happen without your help.  We are putting out the call for folx from all parts of the queer, lesbian, trans, bisexual, gay, and asexual werewolf fandom looking to help make this the best possible release we can:

Artists

Horror writers

Editors

Consultants

Hype Wolves to help spread the word

Indie TTRPG creators

Working together, we can create a game that is fun, engaging, and genuinely representative of the diverse community of players and fans who love Werewolf. To help us out, click here We look forward to providing you future updates!

#i know fuckall about wta and don't have time to get into it but this is pretty much my friend group interest isn't it? #so go for it friends and i will join you when I'm not buried under homework

[wolves-against-the-world]

Stop me from drawing Sasha and Milo as knights, you can’t

#wolves against the world #sasha wolfhart #milo wolfhart #lycanthrope #werewolf

[wolves-against-the-world]

I think what I'm trying to do - and what annoys me about a lot of werewolf stories - is to write about agency and will instead of the black and white approach to pack dynamics.

Attila is the leader, first because of pure political scheming, then because of habit. He had to learn to be fully self-sufficient to not leave an opening to replace him all the way back in the army. He reasserts his leadership, sometimes in unhealthy or violent ways, because it is his duty to keep his pack safe and he can't fathom how to do that without having absolute control. He loves his pack, but his leadership role keeps him at a distance. Only when he gives up some of that power can he succeed.

Sasha is a distrustful, cynical, and callous asshole who always has a backup plan. He obeys orders, but always looks for an out of a way to influence things to keep himself and his brother safe. Yet he submits himself to Attila even after they break from the Army, because Attila earned his respect and is actually a good leader. Sasha could replace him, even without booting him from the pack. He'd be good at it, too. But he doesn't want to. Being deputy - his leader's support - is where he thrives.

Milo hates authority. Not because he's unwilling to do what people ask of him, but because he was punished regardless of how he behaved, so he might as well do what he wants. He does things he's aware are foolish, because his history outweighs common sense sometimes. He's a very reliable ally when he respects you and a massive liability if not. But he does want someone to take the lead, just someone he can trust.

Eike is devoted to the pack. They saved him, and he owes it to them to serve them as best he can. But some part of him always feels that their dynamics are unhealthy and make them vulnerable. That he needs to step up. But he's uncertain if he's good enough to do so, or if he'd just make things worse. Once he gathered the courage to act without being told to, he is the only thing that can save them all.

#wolves against the world #werewolf #worldbuilding #lycanthrope #writers on tumblr

[wolves-against-the-world]

*Fleur comes home absolutely drunk, undresses, and stands in Anneke’s bedroom.*

Anneke: Babe, are you.. coming to bed?

Fleur: No thank you, I’m sure you’re lovely but I have a girlfriend.

Fleur: *Lies on the ground and falls asleep*

Anneke: ...

#watw incorrect quotes #anneke van leeuwen #fleur cornelissen

[wolves-against-the-world]

Sasha : Don’t mansplain this to me!

Fleur: Wh- I’m a woman! I can't mansplain anything to you!

Sasha : …Well, I’m a feminist, and I believe a woman can do anything a man does!

#sasha wolfhart #fleur cornelissen #watw incorrect quotes

[wolves-against-the-world]

Milo: Okay, if we can't do it by sheer force, we'll do it my way.

Sasha : ...Your way is sheer force.

#watw incorrect quotes #milo wolfhart #sasha wolfhart