James Darkmane
aka Whispers in the Dark

Background Story

I work hard to provide for my family. I pull in six-figures at Data Systems Unlimited, dammit, and if that means I'm never home, the bitch and her little brat will have to fucking deal with it. It's not like the kid is gonna go crazy and build a baseball diamond in a fucking cornfield cause I won't play ball with him. If it's not them its my father, washed up old fool, jammering on about "the old ways." Christ! Where the hell did the old ways get him! --John Darkmane--

John's late again, and he is always mad when he is late. I hope I have dinner ready for him. I hate upsetting him. His job just makes him irritable. I wish there was some way I could make it easier on him. Maybe if I didn't nag him so much, he wouldn't get so angry. I don't like making him angry. --Margaret Darkmane

Mrs. Darkmane, I feel that your son is extremely intelligent, and might have a bright future ahead of him. I feel very strongly that his athletics are interfering with this class. Not only that, but he does an enormous amount of outside reading. Reading, heh, if you can call that mystic, new-age crap reading. He needs to understand that _science_ is what drives modern society, and he needs to learn it to succeed. --Mr. Schitler--

Shit. I missed tryouts... of course... Mr. Schitler couldn't make any special arrangements. "If I make arrangements for the football star, I'd have to make them for everybody. You have to make up the test." I hate my life... I wish I was born in a simpler time. Grandfather said that I have the mind of a medicine man. Just as well... I hate football anyway. Only reason I get into it is to get my anger with my father out. And as long as I'm the foot-ball hero, he doesn't hit me. I haven't seen him hit mom lately either. FUCK! *hits locker* I'm so dead. "Mr." Varsity Quarterback in my sophomore year" and I can't try out. All cause I overslept. God DAMN these dreams! Friggin' ghostly wolves and demons and turtles. On top of all this, Jenny wants to see other people. I should've known she only wanted me because I was slated for QB. She's just like everyone else around here, fucking status-minded ASSHOLES! I want to die. Maybe my father really will kill me. --Jimmy Darkmane--

"Hello, da...," Jimmy Darkmane cut himself off. Oh,godthat'sa knifemomsdeadthatsaknifemomsDEAD! "YOU KILLED HER!" Jimmy lept at his father, all the years of abuse, years of pain welling up inside him. He barely felt the knife pierce his ribcage. Barely noticed himself fall to the floor. Almost didn't hear his father mutter, "now I can finish my beer in peace." NOOOOO! James couldn't feel anything. He should have been dead, but all it felt like was his brain shutting down. He got up, towering over his father. "But I'm not that tall!" He reached out his huge muscular arms, and tore his father to pieces with his claws. "Claws? I don't have claws." He saw the carnage and instinctively ran, crashing out the window and into the night.

Yeah, sir, it's a horrible mess in here... looks like the kid got pissed off, killed his parents. Yeah, god, I've never seen anyone this brutal before. Especially the way he hacked up his_mother_... --Officer Johnson--

James ran into the woods, his body huge and unnatural to him. He felt his flesh crawl, and his body shifted back into his familiar form. He collapsed, trying to catch his breath. He heard a snapping sound from the darkness. A huge form stepped out. James's life would never be the same.

James spent the next few months at the House of Stone and Light Caern in Arizona. A place of unsurpassed beauty, the sept's main concern are the hordes of tourists in the area there to see the Grand Canyon. His rite of passage was a challenging affair, involving an arduous spirit quest. On this quest, James had another powerful vision, like his child-hood nightmares, but a hundred times worse. He completed the quest, but he _changed_ during the ordeal. It was like a veil had been lifted, and the real world stood exposed to him at last. James never had any siblings as a child, and his pack sort of made up for that. He never felt so much a part of anything as he did with them. He felt a deep, visceral bond with them, something he had never felt in his life. He could not imagine life without his pack. The Claws of Vengeance cut a swath across Pentex installations across the southwest. James was looked upon as the "wise one". The leader, a Philodox of the Wendigo tribe looked to Whispers for insight. He was very influential over the selection of where they would go. It was James who made the fateful decision that would spell disaster for The Claws of Vengeance. Wanders-in-the-Valley came to Darkmane one day, and asked him if The Claws of Vengeance would like to assist Wanders' own pack in a raid on the lair of some Mages. James jumped at the chance. He knew that going along with Wanders' pack would earn them great renown and the chance to work with Wanders, the greatest Theurge in the sept was unbeatable. James committed the pack. They agreed with his decision. The pack broke off from the elders during the raid, chasing down some banes. They got trapped in a small library. The pack was ripped to shreds. Whispers was left for dead, but recovered. Awaking in the library, he saw his packs bodies, their bodies, dead and mutilated all around him. He slipped a book into his pouch and grabbed another. He ran out the tunnel, dropping in exhaustion at Wanders' feet. They took him, and brought him back to the sept to recover.

Nothing is left... it's all gone away. I've been consumed by the dreams... I can barely keep my thoughts in line. I've been reading the book. It's written in some language, I think it's _Pictish_ of all things. I'm beginning to puzzle it out. I'm planning on making a journey in the Umbra, into the unfathomable depths beyond the barrier. The book has shown me how. I must do this. Red Mountains, white lions, a desiccated carcass of a turtle...I see it in my dreams, it becomes _real_ on my quest. I've SEEN what's on the other side... I know the truth. We all going to get crushed by the bulk of the Wyrm... nothing can stop that now. I have to go west... something is calling me there. To San Francisco. I can't stay here any longer... All I see is their faces... young Laughing Waters, she was barely 13, I can still hear her beautiful voice, and her little smile. And then I see what they did to her, her skull split in two, MERCIFUL GAIA! HOW CAN YOU LET THIS HAPPEN! Everything I see reminds me of them...

So much has happened to me in the past few months. I have come here to San Francisco. I have found peace with myself at last. Allison, my beloved, the woman I hope to marry, is to thank for all this. I have found happiness at last with her. The odd thing is, She is Bastet... I'm not sure what we will do, but our love will see us through it.

It's happening again... they came back for the book. Oh, great Gaia, WHY! Why HER! Take me!. I look at the silver blade on the counter, and think, that it would be so easy... I'm the one who took the book, _I'm_ the one who brought my pack there, to their... deaths. Suicide... no, I cannot bring myself to do it. I must move beyond the pain. Emotion is for the weak. Only power counts. I will follow Gaia's visions, and go to the red mountains, and discover what I must do before I end this wretched existence.

Notes:
Whispers is a pretty tortured Garou. From his first change, he's seen the deaths of everyone he's cared for, from his mother to his beloved Allison. He's almost dead inside, he's shut himself off emotionally because it hurts to much. Only acquiring knowledge and power matters to him now. Maybe once he is in charge, he can forget the pain.

Outlook
Life beats you pretty hard. Everything you have ever loved has turned on you or you've lost it. Don't get attached to anything. The only thing that doesn't hurt is knowledge. And knowledge brings with it power. Garou society is a total joke. Half of these Ahroun leaders couldn't lead their way out of a plastic bag. The Garou need a leader with vision and _knowledge_.

Appearance:
James is a tall, well-proportioned young man. He has the build of a quarterback, and is in excellent condition. His face has a very serious cast to it. He does not look like a humorous person. He has dark brown, almost black eyes, and his black hair is tightly pulled back into a long, straight ponytail. In homid form, he tends toward simple clothing, jeans and a casual shirt. He adorns it with his medicine pouch, and many other "native" things. His fur is a deep reddish-brown, with a patch of pure black starting on his forehead, and running to his tail. He often carries a staff, decorated with mystical carvings and such.