A Werewolf Blog in Brooklyn

Nature of the Werewolf

April 15, 2010
5 Comments

So this whole thing with the Gowanus Canal Superfund, got me thinking about whether werewolves are environmentalist as such.

Because let’s face it, environment, is important.

It kind of comes back to the nature or nature side of things, that shape your life. And being anything other than 100% human, well that got to have some sort of impact on your being right? I mean, does it make you what you are because you’re not 100% human, because things were different when your lineage came to town?

Our environment could be why the werewolf lineage has a declining birth rate. There’s probably a fair bit more to it than that, but that could be a good starting point for studying on why today’s, modern werewolves are breeding out, it would seem, more and more.

And do you really want to be left with lycans as a result of starved companionship or have an inability to repopulate, find others that are the same as the werewolf?

Whether your environment is green and leafy, a polluted waterway, or a concrete jungle, there would have to be factors, daily interactions, that not only shape our personalities, and wolf culture, but that also play a part on the physiology of the werewolf too. I mean back in the 1600’s, was pollution this bad?

The European packs, had different factors to our ones today. They were living far more in secret than today’s werewolves and were constantly under threat, hunted, all the time. With the intent of extinction, nothing less.

Hence the mass exodus to the land of New Amsterdam aka New York. Over time it became a concrete jungle, where the persecuted hunted packs, had to restart their lives again. In a foreign environment, with all new, surroundings that they had to adapt their werewolf nature too, in an ever changing world. So they adapted too. They changed the behavior pattern, and living habits of their packs, to accommodate them in the new world.

It’s how the werewolves ended up in nightclubs on lunar weeks, rather than roaming the streets wildly, attacking people at random. Granted, not all werewolves adhere to this lifestyle, not all want to. Hence, why lycans exist. I can only think of three kinds of extreme landscapes that you’d probably be hard pressed to find a werewolf in. Ice, ocean water and nothing but, and outer space.

I’m sure there are dessert werewolves, werewolves in the tropics as well as everyday neighborhoods. So you change one thing in our culture, and the whole culture changes, and over time, as the culture changes, and bounces with the impacts of the environment its been placed in, the werewolf changes too.

I mean, I’m sure there are english werewolf packs, that don’t go out roaming the misty moors of nowhere land like in the Wolfman movie, anymore. But once long ago, they probably did. But it’s unlikely to be the way of the new generation now. We become our own person, our own generation at some point in history.

So yes, I think werewolves are environmentalists at least in the most basic sense of the word. Environment is important to us. Whether it’s a countryside or cityscape, like Brooklyn. It matters where we are, to become who we are.

It definitely helps shape us and our views of life and the world.

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True Dominance

March 16, 2010
2 Comments

Werewolves have changed over time, but some habits, just don’t stop and go out of style, no matter what decade or century you’re in.

Werewolves are known for their fighting ability. The reputation of our breed, is ingrained with this skill set. Of course, there are different reasons for fighting. I’m not a fan of fighting. I figure there’s always a dumb excuse that can be supposedly used to justify fighting. I mean most of the time, the reasons given seem lame.

In the bad old days of werewolves being not so out in the open and the packs being extremely large, before they were hunted down heavily in their homelands, fighting was done as a means, of sorts, of survival – There were dominance fights.

There still are dominance fights, in today’s werewolf culture. But there is a big difference between them now.

Dominance fights in the old day, were considered any physical attack from any fellow werewolf on the leading Alpha of a pack. The challenger could be any wolf. Not even necessarily a pack wolf. They always fought in their animal form. This kind of fighting involved the caveman like, fight-to-the-death mentality. Yes it’s very thunderdome-esque starting with it’s too contenders and ending in one wolf’s death.

True dominance.

This type of fighting was done to prove a point. To ram home a message. To protect position of leadership and ultimately pack. To take out leaders thought to be unworthy and to regroup with a new mentality, under new leadership. To take over. To gain control, to assert one’s self within the pack and greater wolf community, so as to be revered.

Fights these days, are somewhat different.
They’re still held, and they’re still called dominance fights. But they’re about as far from different from our ancestors version of “survivor’s” than ours as you can get.

Today’s wolves, use dominance fights to attempt to get their way when most other options for whatever they are after, fail. Dominance fights, only happen between Alpha werewolves. They are publicized between packs of the warring wolves so it is made clear, what is being challenged. There’s always a tone of blood shed at these fights. But no longer do these warring wolves fight to the death. Not unless they really want to rain down hell on them self or their pack.

See, we can respect that we’re a rare breed, likely to die out. But we can’t respect each other enough to just deal with things in a normal, non violent way. Seriously makes me shake my head in wonder.

Dominance fights these days, have rules.
In the old days, there were no rules, it just came down to who was the best and the most alive at the end of it all.

I’m not sure exactly how many rules there are regarding today’s version of dominance fights, but I know there are a few key rules that every fighter obeys.

1. If any Alpha wolf, leading or not, of pack, is challenged to a dominance fight, they must accept. To not accept, is an automatic sign of weakness and if you’re a leader, you don’t want that. It just gives other wolves the wrong idea about green lighting your pack for target practice. Leading Pack Alpha’s can choose a representative for themself if they want.

But I don’t know any Alpha let alone leading Alpha, that would ever do that. I’ve never heard of one of them chickening out. They just don’t. If you’re a badass, well, you know you’re a badass and why the hell wouldn’t you prove it if provoked?

2. No Shape shifting
Fights are fought, in human form, in an underground, often secret and constantly moving, location around one of the pack’s hoods. No shape shifting is allowed. It’s considered cheating. Werewolves are ego-maniacs. They love to see how much damage they can do to each other and who can take the most, in their human skin, before it becomes too much.

3. Any Alpha who loses a dominance fight, submits to the winner’s decree, whatever that might be. Guess it’s the reason behind whatever the fight was started for in the first place.

Strangely enough, werewolves follow these rules quite thoroughly. Like they are actually respected, unlike say the opponent in the fight.

Weird wolves.

4. It’s not a fight to the death. One werewolf must concede defeat. Which in itself is a harder task than getting through the physicality of the fight to do. Egos – Alpha egos clashing.

You’ll find the only time a werewolf fights to kill, is because it is under attack. Not a sanctioned, controllable fight. Or it’s lost every single sense of control.

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The Ravening Red Wolf

January 15, 2010
1 Comment

This is the fable I was told, it’s also know as the story of Roter Reitwerewolf or more universally as Little Red Riding Hood. See if you can pick the moral of the story.
******************************************************

There once was a beautiful woman with hair of spun gold the colour of flames.

She had come across a small cottage, deep in the Ardennen and let herself in. It was not her home. She was in fact far from home, in a land that existed in a memory of time long past. But she needed to rest.

A hunter lived in the cottage, and upon his return from a hunting trip, he found the woman in his home.

The hunter knew by her beauty alone she was trouble. Piercing blue eyes and such pale smooth skin, delicate pink lips and ripe bosom. It was unusual to see someone of her beauty in his part of the world. A dark corner of constant battle, for souls, minds and peace.

She did not belong here, in his land, in his heath. Yet there she lay before him a heavyset cloak of red, wrapped around her. The woman was startling to the contrast of his drab and bare cottage. The hunter thought the cloak might be a drape of some kind, shaped to be clothing that served her protection from the harsh elements of the land. Or her drawing card to entice men, like him. The cloak reminded him of the dark colour of bloodshed.

“What are you doing in my home?” The hunter growled at the woman, startling her.

“Please, I only seek shelter and food. I shall not stay more than the sun rising.”

The hunter looked her over head to feet “Why do you run?” He asked.

“I do not run.” The woman laughed. “I was out walking and lost my way, before finding myself here, in need of shelter as night falls. There are creatures in the forest, that make noises that scare me.”

The hunter frowned deeply. “There is mud along the bottom of your cloak and you are without shoes.”

“I slipped on the mud near the brook, my shoes came off and I lost one to the stream. I had no purpose for just one shoe. So I left it behind and decided to walk on.”

He looked at the woman suspiciously. The hunter grunted. “You may share what food I have.”

“Are you a hunter?” She said pointing to the knife in his hand.

He nodded his once.

The woman looked about the small cottage and stood before the fireplace, warming herself. When the hunter looked over at her again, as he prepared the meat stew they would eat, the woman had taken off the cloak and dropped it to her feet. She was naked

“For food and shelter, the night ahead, I will let you lay with me.”

The hunter stopped carving meat for the hearty stew. With bloodied knife still in hand, he walked towards her. He had never seen anyone as beautiful as her.

“You do not know what you say, nor should you say it.” He said, stopping before her, his eyes gazing over the curves of her body.

The woman looked too beautiful to ignore, she smelled like woodland flowers.

“But I am here now, do you not seek comfort from me?” She asked him, watching his face carefully.

Before the hunter could clear the thoughts of her from his head and return to his dinner work, the woman snatched the knife out of his hand and stabbed the hunter through his heart.

As she pulled out the knife slowly, the woman watched the hunter drop to the ground.

“I am not what I seem and you are a fool to believe so. And I am a fool if I believed you would be gentle with me, or ask nothing of me in return for food and shelter here.”

The woman waited until the hunter was laying on the ground with barely a breath left in him.

She threw her head back and letting out the howl of the victorious wolf. She looked back at the hunter and plunged the knife into his chest again.

“When I said I wanted a morsel of food, I meant you.” She growled and crouched down on all fours beside the man.

A ripple of the hunter’s blood touched her hand, as it seeped out of his side and sprayed out wildly into her face, from his open chest. The woman smiled and licked her lips and bathed in the glorious red life.

Outside the moon shone full and proud. And again she howled. The sound echoed far and wide, the sound of victory, the call of the werewolf.

Roter Reitwerewolf’s wolf, sensed the moon and ripped through her. She shook violently, arched her back and dug her nails into the floorboards. Her body stretched, bone pulling against skin. Red and golden fur burst along her arms like flames, her nails changed to claws, her legs, became the powerful legs of a wolf.

She cried out, feeling alive as the shape shift pushed her human form inwards, and a werewolf stood, growling over the dead body of the hunter. She tore apart the man on the floor.

You see, the hunter meant no harm to the wair woman. But she did not see the situation of her being there that way.

There was a war brewing, between God’s people and his beasts in the hunter’s home land. A war of what was seen to be right, and what some people believed to be wrong. A war that Roter Reitwerewolf was ensared in.

Hunters had set up posse’s, who by night time, with flaming torch in hand and guns at the ready, searched long and hard for the abomination of woodland black magic. Roter Reitwerewolf was being hunted. They tracked and chased the wair, whenever the full moon followed the blue moon.

For Roter Reitwerewolf, it was the only way she knew to survive.

She sustained her werewolf for the whole night, after feeding on the hunter.

In the morning, she slipped into his clothes, and tied an old shirt around her head, as a scaf, covering up her beautifully, alluring hair and headed off. She looked like a peasant again. Hiding amongst the village people of the Barrle-Hertog and Barrle_Nassau.

Disguised as one of them, outsmarting the very people who were hunting her, hunting for a red wolf.


Werewolf instinct

January 13, 2010
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After hearing “Werewolves instinctively go after that which they love the most” The other day, this statement got me thinking about what that meant or could mean.

Of course, it was said by humans who were in no way inclined to be werewolves themselves. I didn’t get lupine in their scent. So the statement coming from those that aren’t what they talk about, could be seen to be ignorant. Kind of like, you know, you can’t say that’s the truth of the matter, unless you’ve lived the truth of the matter.

At first, I took this statement to mean, that werewolves will ‘attack’ those they love the most. As in your loved ones, boyfriends, girlfriends, family and anyone who means anything to them.
As if that makes sense!
Hurting the ones you love the most to show what? That you care? Care enough to rip their throats out?
Please. A little dignity.

I took this statement to mean, that it was a rouge werewolf, one who could not control itself under moonlight, and in it’s loss of control it some how only sees or targets people it loves (ie recognizes) to attack and kill.

It could be said that this is type of reaction is indeed a reflection of who we truly are. That’s of course, complete bullshit, unless you buy into the old time marketing campagain of the werewolf image that has long, ‘dog’ed us.

We do not project the monster from within, even after taking wolf form, because it’s not a reflection of who we are. We have needs, baser needs when in werewolf form, but that doesn’t make us all that different to the rest of the animal kingdom and just because you’re labelled “a predatory animal” that doesn’t make you a monster. It just means we won’t be stood on or roll over for anybody. Werewolves, know how to survive.

Nobody truly reflects who they are to the outside world right? I mean, if they did, then why use make up, cosmetic surgery?

But people, we’ve come along way from the dark ages of werewolf persecution and scalping trials of the 1600’s. But the werewolf image is still more monster than any other supernatural being since.

So then I thought, what if they mean this statement in a good way?

Go with me here, let’s just assume those speaking were playing nice and tolerantly to my kind.
Because it’d sure make a change of pace.

Anyway, so what if this statement meant, that werewolves, instinctively go after that which they love the most, in a protective sense. I mean, you’d be hard pressed to find too many random attacks from werewolves these days. We aren’t mindless animals you know. When we shape shift, we still have a mind, an animal’s mind as much as we still have the instinct of our wolf shape and the predatory hunt.

And most creatures know, who’s top of the food chain and automatically who not to fuck with. I’m happy to say werewolves command respect in that sense. Do not fuck with the werewolves and they will not kill you. Simple really.

Werewolves are pack animals, they do not live alone. They do not work alone, they do not isolate themselves on lunar weeks or full moon nights. We instinctively go to what we know. We work with familiarity and routine. We adapt to circumstance. We protect those that we love and we will fight to the death, to ensure our pack survives.

Now if these people, had known that, their statement might make a lick of sense. But I’m guessing, they didn’t know that. Or they really just don’t have a clue about modern werewolves. Which got me thinking, they’ve heard to many kids stories. Like the most famous of them all, Little Red Riding Hood.

That ‘fairy tale’ has been told so many times, and changed, that nobodies really sure who started it or why or weather it’s got truth to it or it’s pure fiction.

There are a few popular versions that the Breukelen tell it as. Apparently they all have different meanings, that’s why there’s so many versions.

But I’m going to tell you a version, I was told of that fairy tale, only the Breukelen don’t call it Little Red Riding Hood.

We werewolves call it The Ravening Red Wolf. So stayed tuned for Part 2 of this post.


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