Some servants of the Wyrm are born in darkness and sent into the human world as living weapons. But others start off with jobs at Costco or Panera, until their hatred and heedless malice draw the attention of Banes and they mutate into the Wyrm's dark champions. What if the rider you killed had a daytime identity that you could track?
What if the rider you killed isn't fully dead?
You move carefully among the black trees, and with the moonlight so bright it's easy to trace your trail to the dead man, who stinks of his own bowels.
The flies are all dead. And his throat is slit. Wait, you didn't do that.
"Why do I have to do your work?" a voice says behind you.
One of Clay's pack, your fellow galliard: Scarper. He flicks a knife back and forth in front of your face. The two other Garou lurk in the darkness nearby, nothing but wolf-shaped shadows.
"Back off before you look like him, Scarper!" I snap at Scarper with my huge teeth.
"Help me check the body." The corpse was already dead but now it's time to check it out.
"I'm here to give this mortal what he deserves." I give the corpse an angry bite before searching it to learn about this dead man's mortal allies…who will also suffer.
This is what the Litany has been reduced to: old men like Scarper insulting me in my victory. Our laws have fallen into disgrace.
I look down at the mutilated corpse. Maybe this is all we can manage in our doomed world: picking off stray humans who serve the Wyrm.
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