Stein Kettil
Strength-of-the-Axe
Skald of Valor
Fostern of the Get of Fenris
Guardian of the Sept of the Lost Fort
Description
Homid: ~Heroic and handsome, that defines Stein Kettil. This strapping blond must be descended from Hessian mercenaries. He towers over six feet and is powerfully muscled. The loose jeans, shoes, and t-shirts that he tends to wear do little to mask these physical qualities. Stein’s hair is full, almost a mane, usually shoulder-width and shaggy. A light beard is common, but he shaves it off now and again, so it is never particularly full or long. An easy smile reaches the unblemished face of a man in his mid to late 20s, while blue eyes keenly radiate deliberate purpose. That purpose would be mysterious, were he not caught as he frequently is with a six-foot long battleaxe strapped to his back. Jesus H. Christ. Good thing he isn’t likely to be spotted at all except in the wilderness, where he must be hunting. Dragons apparently.~
OOC: Appearance 3; Pure Breed 2; Glory 5, Honor 1, Wisdom 3
Glabro: ~Clothing begins to strain and stretch because his muscles bulge and swell and he grows several inches. Stein’s eyes become an icier blue and his hair a paler shade of yellow, more ragged and shaggy. His grins become feral, with sharper canines and a more forceful presence. This “barbarian” form is superb for swinging that big battleaxe.~
OOC: Appearance 2; Pure Breed 2; Glory 5, Honor 1, Wisdom 3
Crinos: ~All pretense of humanity is shed when Stein assumes this terrifying war-form. He towers almost nine feet tall now, blond hair faded out to dirty-white. Arms end with claws, feet into hind legs, and a fluffy tail now extends for balance. His clothing has torn away or vanished, and only the beast lurks in those sharp blue eyes now. A muzzle full of bone-white teeth snarl, and sheer fury radiates from his body like a tangible force.~
OOC: Appearance 0; Pure Breed 2; Full Delirium; Glory 5, Honor 1, Wisdom 3
Hispo: ~Stein is upon all fours in this shape, which takes his lupus form and magnifies it with sheer size, bulk, and ferocity. He stands as tall as a small horse, corded with muscle rippling beneath a white coat of fur. Ears swivel as he homes in on danger, to which he issues a reverberating, monstrous snarl that makes the blood curdle.~
OOC: Appearance 0; Pure Breed 2; Glory 5, Honor 1, Wisdom 3
Lupus: ~As a wolf, Stein appears to be of a rare breed. His coat is off-white, without any markings whatsoever, and a healthy sheen. He is a buff and towering animal, with a proud muzzle and intelligent if foreboding blue eyes. Gone is his good-natured human jockeying. In the world in which he is a wolf, there is only predator and prey.~
OOC: Appearance 3; Pure Breed 2; Glory 5, Honor 1, Wisdom 3
"Every good story ends with an axe to the villain's brains."
History
Born to War
The only child of Avery and Sela Kettil of Lancaster, Pennsylvania, Stein was born to a small town rural countryside lifestyle. His folks were decent if oblivious and did their best to raise their singular child well. Nevertheless, Stein turned out early on to be a bad egg: he always had a recalcitrant and disobedient attitude. He pushed his way through school, an athletic jock but insufferable bully. He never lacked for a girlfriend because he was also cute and not entirely dim-witted. He performed surprisingly well in his English classes, though infuriated his teachers because he blew off the reading and writing talent to pursue football instead. Cute and cocky: an asset in the early years of a person’s life.
After the terrorist attack of 9/11, young Stein already voiced an earnest desire to join the war effort in Afghanistan. During his summer vacation in 2002, between his junior and senior high school years, the youth enlisted in the USMC and knocked out his basic training. As soon as he graduated the following spring, now 18 years old, he was infantry in the Marines. And then he was deployed to Iraq.
Though Stein handled basic well enough, his old rebellious streak began to shine through. He strained against officers, and his edgy attitude made it impossible to climb higher than a rank of PFC. Nevertheless, Stein took part in plenty of fighting in the toughest parts of Iraq. And to this date, he is not afraid to admit (except to official inquirers) that he participated in “war crime” activities. He shot dead more than a few people who were only suspected of being insurgents. It wasn’t out of racism. He simply enjoyed the action, the brutality, the overcast drama in which he found himself. Suffice to say, within several months he was drummed out for a “personality disorder”. Little was made of it. Part of the reason was that his parents were victims of a drunk driving accident and he was “just acting out” because his only family was dead.
Wrong Buttons
Though he had been discharged, it was not dishonorably, and he was eligible for veterans’ benefits. However, to receive them Stein was obligated to participate in psychological counseling due to the nature of his discharge. He agreed if only because he needed all the help he could get. He needed to pay the rent. Stein rarely missed an appointment while he searched haplessly for work in Lancaster. But his therapist was good – maybe too good. The fellow kept pushing all the wrong buttons, poking the young man about his experiences in Iraq and the loss of his parents. How was the shrink supposed to know that Stein was a lunatic?
Well, Stein was more than that. Finally, one question too many and one button pushed too many, he exploded. He rose up in anger. When he shot up from his chair, it was not as a man, but a giant slavering wolf-man. The counselor’s screams of abject terror were cut very abrupt; one fell swipe of a razor-sharp claw nearly took the poor bastard’s head clean off. The frenzied werewolf wrecked the room, and then slumped back down on that comfortable couch. Fur shrank to nakedness and Stein slept almost comatose.
The Sept of Forgotten Fields, a small united group of Garou (mostly Get of Fenris), already had a pack on its way to collect the young werewolf. Stein did not yet know it, but his birth had been auspiciously predicted and baptized by the Theurges years ago. He was born under a superb omen. Stein awakened from his deep slumber and stumbled out of the office that evening. He had been the counselor’s last patient that afternoon, so no one missed the fellow quite yet. Naked and covered in blood, Stein stumbled down the old Lancaster streets. A van rode up on him, grabbed him, and raced off.
En route, to pre-empt his fury, they revealed their true natures and explained to Stein what had happened, what was happening, and what would happen. Over the next month, Stein adapted to this new life in the grassy bawn of the Elder Light Caern. He learned the ways and laws of the Garou, of his Tribal heritage and its mighty expectations. His teacher was primarily Maximus Thunderage, an old Godi seer well past his prime, but wizened and knowledgeable. When the time came, Stein was ready for the Rite of Passage, the only cub at that time.
So, he was tested alone. Stein was required to battle an actual Ancestor-spirit over a minor but old fetish weapon – an old battleaxe that a hero in legend was said to wield sometimes. The axe was once wielded by this Ancestor-spirit, and so Stein’s rival was an even greater threat. The spirit had a vested interest and the obstinate will of Umbrood with which he had to contend. It was a rough, even savage battle that left Stein scarred. He ultimately won with an opportunistic barrel roll. Before the spirit could recover from the distant toss, Stein made impressive use of his shapeshifting to change from Crinos to Lupus and race up the hilltop. To Glabro then, he yanked the axe free as the spirit raced up towards him, and…splat. Stein won, the axe dripping with ancestor “blood”. The spirit faded, bowing with a jealous grimace. Stein earned the fetish and his place in the Tribe. Though born under the gibbous moon and therefore a Skald, his birth prophesy noted Mars high in the sky, marking the future of a great warrior.
Infiltration
For a year or two, Stein continued to just learn the ropes around the caern. He served as a Guardian of the bawn, and used that time to improve his skills with his axe and Garou nature. Eventually, the elders approached him with a mission for which his looks and heritage made him perfect. In town, a new group of humans were causing trouble, and all indication suggested that they were Skinheads. Normally, the Garou cared little about such things. But there was a suspicion that these Aryan street thugs had some political backing, implying Neo-Nazi money. That money did more than oppose immigration. It supported all right wingnuttery, including anti-environment regulation, and specifically local legislation that would let the city and private landowners peel back into Garou territory.
So, Stein agreed to help out as an infiltrator. The blond Aryan-looking Fenrir shaved most of his hair saved for a ponytail mohawk. He had little trouble joining in, even getting a real Swastika tattoo (that he would later slice off and regenerate back clear). For a few months, Stein just hung with the crowd, joining them in their relatively harmless shenanigans (a lot of drinking, mostly). But then before their unnamed leader, the wealthy middle-class Neo-Nazi backer he was supposed to sniff out, would meet the “new guy”, he had to prove his loyalty.
He was escorted to a backroom in their little playhouse on the outskirts of the industrial district. There was a young girl, maybe 14, tied up naked, beaten and crying. She had been raped repeatedly. The Skinheads laughed at her, spat beer on her, and told Stein she was a piece of Jewish trash that deserved nothing more. It was his turn to despoil her, hurt her. Just the sight of her, abuse heaped on her young body, sent a blaze of uncontrollable fury through the werewolf’s blood. In an instant, he was a Crinos werewolf.
However, someone tipped the Skinheads off and the gang leader, Holtz, brought a revolver loaded with silver bullets. Blam, blam, blam! Take that, wolf-man! mocked the Skinhead. Yeah, they hurt. But Holtz should have aimed for the head. With a snarl, he leapt upon and shredded the Skinhead. Literally. He plucked the skin from Holtz’s body strip at a time, making sure the Aryan died as slowly and horribly as imaginable. Most of the Skinheads had simply been throated. Holtz was skinned alive. Stein then crept away from the site, leaving the girl for the authorities to rescue. The gang was obliterated but the Neo-Nazi left undiscovered. Damn.
Stormy Rock Pack
He was nevertheless acknowledged for his efforts. He became a Guardian of the Elder Light Caern. Occasionally, Stein joined short-lived packs to go after fomori or Black Spiral Dancers spotted in the area. In this interval period, he received a fair amount of action. This eventually qualified him to team up with a long-term pack, the Stormy Rock. It included Paula Cinderharp, a homid-born Fianna, and Hammertooth, a lupus-born Fenrir. The three of them traveled in an ever-widening circuit from the caern’s primary territory. They were the only Garou Sept in the region.
As roving enforcers, they often clashed with corrupt humans, fomori, and leeches. Stein wanted to be Alpha but Hammertooth outranked him, so he settled as Beta. Besides, he knew his role as Skald did not just mean possible infiltrator and manipulator but also storyteller. Together, he could record their deeds as one unit and re-tell them as glorious stories, the better to earn greater glory in the eyes of their Sept-mates!
In their circuit, they began to chase a rival nomadic pack of Dancers. They didn’t know the bastards’ names, they only knew Whippoorwill announced their arrival. They always faced the Dancers without fear, which infuriated the Wyrm-corrupted bastards all the more. Perhaps that was why their game of cat-and-mouse came to a bitter end. The Dancers posed an ambush by restraining the call of their totem and attacking with a few nasty allies (leeches and Banes) in support. The three Garou were vastly outnumbered 3 to 1 – just the kind of odds any Get of Fenris (and Paula, she proved her worth to them) would like. The three fought as an experienced team, and took their enemies down with mighty courage and determination. But in the end, everyone was dead but Stein. He was only mostly dead, and crawled away from the abattoir of corpses. His packmates’ bodies would be recovered later.
Now What?
Survival earned his promotion to the Fostern Rank. He dubiously accepted this honor. He only had to pass a simple test – a game of wits against his old kooky mentor, Maximus. Stein had to simply witness a number of atrocities – no doubt the old Godi forced peeks into the Atrocity Realm – and hold his temper. He was not permitted to frenzy. He managed for the most part, though anything with blatant cowardice that resulted in harm to others set him closest to edge. Perhaps that was the real point of the test, he wondered – to find out what pissed him off the most. Whatever. He passed the test and was given his Rank. Meanwhile, old Maximus was gradually losing his marbles more and more as time went on. Sad.
For a few more years after this incident, Stein remained at the caern as a Guardian once again. He was without pack but worked with other Garou for short-term missions. It eventually became clear that he was uncomfortable and dissatisfied, however. His poor adjustment after the Stormy Rock’s decimation caused the elders to advise him to leave. They recommended he travel north and find a new Sept, a new pack, and a new life. He had no Kinfolk, no human family, no packmates, and even his mentor was kept distracted with busy work lest the old coot have a dementia frenzy. Grudgingly, the Skald took what few stories he accrued and departed, axe alone in hand.
Past Life
Stein’s connection to his past lives is tenuous at best. Like his breeding, Stein apparently derives from a lesser bloodline of minor heroes and “sidekicks” rather than great champions. Perhaps that will change with this Fenrir’s life in the epochal drama of this period, with the Apocalypse right around the corner. In the mean time instead, he taps his ancestral memories for stories and lore.
Fetishes
Third Axe of Fafnir
Level: 3
Gnosis: 6
Origin: Stein earned this fetish weapon during his Rite of Passage. It was crafted many centuries ago somewhere in Scandinavia, purportedly by a great Fenris hero (whether it was literally Fafnir is another matter).
Description: This is a battleaxe in the tradition of the ancient Viking greataxe – a five foot stout pole with a broad iron head and pick atop for stabbing. The blade edge is always sharp and the wood nearly unbreakable, and as a result marred with many nicks when used to parry. Runic symbols decorate the leather straps wrapped around the center of the handle. The leather is of questionable origin. The fetish is bound with a spirit of War.
Effects: 1) inflict aggravated damage; 2) adds +3 dice of damage against Wyrm creatures
Activation: 1) For both effects, the axe must simply be attuned, and to do that it must be held high and the runic symbols spoken aloud (in Old Norse), which read “Death to Mine Enemies”.
Battle Scars
Class: Spiritual
Description: Long claw-like scars that only show up when in the Umbra
Location: Across his back
Origin: Battling an Ancestor-spirit during his Rite of Passage
Effects: Ache only when in the Shadow
Class: Internal poisoning
Description: Three bullet entry wounds
Location: Left shoulder, ribs, and thigh
Origin: A Skinhead shot him with silver bullets
Effects: Body never fully ejected the bullets, so they gradually dissolve in his tissue and inflict occasional internal injuries (like lead poisoning), especially when a shapeshifting (Primal-Urge) roll is botched
Class: Deep
Description: Acidic spatter
Location: Lower abdomen
Origin: Fomori vomit
Effects: Slight stomachache when it’s very hot and humid
Significant Other
Stein traveled north and settled in the Boston area in 2013. In a rural town outside the city, he discovered a small Sept (Fianna dominated). That is where he encountered the gorgeous Brandi Laughlin, a very well-bred Fianna Kinfolk. Of course, this immediately put him at odds with many of the Fianna Garou, including Brandi’s sister, Mavenshayne. He nevertheless pursued the romance and proved his “right” to claim the woman. Their relationship has had its ups and downs, but that is the nature of passion. Especially their wild and insatiable passion.
Brandi
Weakness
Too Direct
Stein is not a secretive, keep-your-cards-close, hide-your-feelings kind of guy. He’s honest, explosive, and downright mean. If he doesn’t like you, you’ll know right away. And you definitely won’t like him as a result.
Likelihood of Corruption
Low.
He’s a savage killer, but only of bad guys. He keeps close to his Tribal roots and spiritual purity that makes only the classic risks of corruption his enemy. Which is enough, of course.
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