Redemption at Dusky Peak

The wind sweeps the barren land, leaves the taste of silver and copper mine tailings, burning tongue and nose, stinging eyes. The Song of Destruction hums in the air, echoed and repeated in the howls of the tainted once-Wolves, who dog your trail, mocking.

Yet you can't help but grin, gums bleeding from the poisonous air, teeth lengthening, grinding - you can hear their fear.

The elders swore the Howlers are incapable of fear - too mad to have any sense left in their bones, happy to die to escape what they've become.

You beg to differ. You've seen their hate, as you collapsed their Wyrm-Caern, crushing all still left inside. You saw their agony, as you put a bullet through their brains.

And now? Now they fear, for you have come to Dusty Peak, ready to put down this Thing once and for all. The Storm-Eater, That-Which-Consumes-The-Heart; by the People's weaknesses it was losed, and now it's time to put it down.

As has been said to you by many in your travels - Needs Killin'.

And you aim to do it.

A Werewolf: Wild West Chronicle, run by Kacie