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 while the dim moonlight makes it hard to see, it's hard to ignore the dead man's evacuated-bowel smell. You soon find the corpse.
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, the 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 lunge at Scarper with my own knife.
"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 a kick 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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