Weaver Bane

W:tA Character Development Background

In real life, Celtic shamen. Developing imagination is crucial to that purpose. Hence, a group of role players. We shared many experiences as many people through many worlds. My own heart however returns always to a place it calls home: Werewolf the apocalypse.

We recognised how strongly the Fianna tribe had been influenced, not by authentic Celtic culture and beliefs, but by its postChristian reinvention and the modern official groups claiming expertise while simultaneously entirely missing the point.

We discovered that the Uktena tribe more closely accurate to authentic Celtic culture.

There is a lot in Fianna which is inspired also by well-documented Irish mythology. The umbrella term Celtic includes that however the majority regard Irish tradition has its own unique thing. European counts in their various waves, have much in common with Norse. Therefore for these purposes we are including Norse also within the umbrella term Celtic. Academically and historically this might be in accurate however the cross cultural influence between all of these groups during times of war and trade, peace and integration, exploration and generation after generation of conquest and spiritual development, which has gone undocumented in the material world, Yet which showman are very well aware off. These are seldom to be found associating with those theatrically ritualistic actors officially claiming to be the so-called experts.

As a result of this, we had to make a choice. Do we change the Canon material so that the Celtic form of Uktena tribe rains in Europe, or should we alter the Fianna tribe so that it accords more with our desire for authenticity?

My group did not fully answer this question. We did however attempt to explore it, At first by using our version of the Viana tribe, and secondly by using a European version of the Oktana tribe.

Following this, we decided to try a completely different approach to the game and create characters from the other tribes. As a result, my first characters were versions of the same thing drawn through different parts of the canon character creation rules, the intent of which really was that it was the same character. My second character, a different persona Is more closely based upon myself. It is a lot of fun to do this.

My group eventually split because emigration after numerous travels, journeys of discovery.

Genis; that which follows from its own creation, from where we get the words genius, genesis and journeys. See: Get. From Ge, earth; which relates to age.

All that has gone; we are on the new page. It is a fresh day. The world of now is renewed. The harmonic is unique.

As I earth myself;
As I write these words;

A golden-red, copper colour flying insect, fire in flight, landed on the camera eyepiece of the iPhone into which I am narrating. As a GlassWalker, I cannot ignore the symbol and the spirit of the Weaver.

It is time to blog this.

GlassWalker Theurge

There was a swarm of flies in the town this week.

Brought on by the unusual wave of heat; so they say.

Always a deeper story.

Always a deeper story but it costs you scars to know.

Around here that ain’t cheap.

This town is septic.

The wounds do heal in time but they leave a taint in the blood and it keeps.

I did not want to settle here: I had to.

Against instinct, against wisdom: for duty and for responsibility.

I was sent here because I’m a lone wolf and I’d trod on paws.

To prowl, to scout the place, find out the score.

Something is ill here, something behind the skin.

A scent on the air when the wind changes.

It’s a coastal town, a bay.

A tin town where ore from the hills was brought down by rail and processed in the factories.

All that has gone now, faded away, not even a memory these generations later.

The big smelting works which poisoned the bay the same way sewage outlets do now, has been torn down and replaced by a coastal walk, pretty for people. Its canker still washes upon the shore, light black rock like meteor.

Mor, Sea. Morfa, by the sea. Welsh words. Mor like Mort, and More; L’amore.

I met a witch so dark I could not resist.

Like everyone here, she wears a mask and I hoped so much for its truth that I could not see through it, not until later. Sometimes the Wyrm has mysteries beyond comprehension.

We share a cub, born of Human to Garou.

It transpired after, not Human at all. A cunning cadaver, ancient from the gypsy folk of Europe, having fled the industrial and social revolutions of the great wars a century ago.

So I became tainted. I let her to live for the cub’s sake. A boy needs a mother, even such as she.

He’s not yet of age to tell what he is but I watch his rage and I know well when the time comes he’s going to need me as I’m going to need the pack with whom I seldom moot, because we are so far and so few in number in South Wales, off the beaten track.

Out here I study virtual reality environments, digital dreamtime, the cyber realms a blessing of company in my loneliness. I design urban architecture which investors build in distant cities.

And I roam. And I hunt. Rural Wales is easy for one so long in the tooth as I.

Because it is so difficult for those who are not; and for those unknowning of its ways and of its wylds.

There was a swarm of flies in town this week and I need to find out why.




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