Fate Worse Than Death

Name: Scourge
Clan: Fight Ring
Challenge: What do you do about your new condition? Are you freaked out, excited? Do you feel free or victimized? Are you reckless? Do you seek help? Do you know there are more werewolves out there, or do you feel alone in your condition? Do you know about the Seekers?

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In the beginning, before the fight ring, the fights...all of it, I was a frightened teenager. I knew I couldn't tell anyone. Not even my mom, much less my father or any authorities. They would call me crazy for sure and proving the condition to them would be even worse. They could lock me up, ship me off to some government research facility, or both. I was more alone than I had ever been before. I did everything in my power to hide it with a combination of myth and pop culture as my guide. It sufficed to say the least.

I avoided situations that would trigger my wolf side and would diligently take myself out to deserted areas during nights of the full moon. I took no chances save one. Roughly a month after learning of my condition a woman began to appear regularly on our street. Normally a new neighbor wouldn't cause me alarm, but she would just sit outside at night and...wait? I could swear she was watching me as I would leave at late hours to wolf out in private. It was normal for her to comment on this a "be care out there" or, "Nice night for a stroll" anything with a generic chatting flavor. Then one day, she spoke to me for real.

Carmen, as I learned her name was, had seen through my thin disguise. She knew the truth of my condition and through my reasonable, but ultimately feeble lies. Because unlike every other person I knew, she knew about werewolves. About changing forms, weaknesses and strengths, our connection to the moon. The uneasy feeling her pendants gave me should have been one of many warning signs. Even without touching them, my skin itched and was subconsciously drawn away from them. It was only latter I found out they were silver. I also missed the hard look in her eyes, the ice lacing her tone beneath mimicked concern, scrutinizing looks...everything was masked by my focus on her scar.

It was a bite mark not unlike my own. Clearly to large for any domestic dog and too different from any bear or large cat. Hers had long since healed, but left a recognizable shape in her skin to that day. Remember though, not every werewolf bite spreads the condition--it has to happen during a full moon not long after the moon reaches its peak. I didn't know that then. Immediately I trusted her. Carmen offered to help me, to train me to control my wolf and to teach me about my kind. I followed her and her "companions" into the heart of the city, never to return to my old life. I learned that night what a seeker was. Technically, she was not wrong, it's like a contract you glazed over and only read the first page of...because I signed up for much more than I could ever have imagined.

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