Strength: ●●●●●
Dexterity: ●●●●
Stamina: ●●●●

Presence: ●●●
Manipulation: ●
Composure: ●●

Wits: ●●●●
Intelligence: ●
Resolve: ●●●

Faith ●●●
WIllpower ●●●

Mortal Skills:

Athletics (Dodge) ●●●●
Brawl ●●●●●
Melee ●●●●
Stealth ●●●●

Mortal Knowledges:

Bushcraft ●●
Medicine ●●
Occult ●

Demonic Talents:

Alertness ●●●
Intimidation ●●●●
Leadership ●●


Primary: Fang and Talon ●●●
Secondary: Celestials (Aether) ●●
Tertiary : Spirits ●

Form Traits:

Armoured Body
Infused with Life
Extra Actions
Pass Without Trace


Eminence ●●●●
Pacts ●


Danger Sense (3)


Vengeance (1)
Colour Blind (1)
Isolated Upbringing (1)
Outsider (2)

Freebie Points (17)

+1 Strength (5)
+1 Dexterity (5)
+1 Stamina (5)
+1 Brawl (2)

XP (14)
+1 Melee (2)
+1 Melee (4)
+1 Melee (6)
+1 Willpower (2)


Life in the Umbra is hard, even for the strong. It requires tenacity, ferocity, and – above all – teamwork. This is why the wolves flourish. A wolf does not leap because another leaps, the pack leaps as one, no individual above the others in any respect. But someone has to make the big decisions – where to go; when to stop ; when to fight; when to flee. Wolves have no need of names, their spirit brethren even less so, but even among them one concept resonates and reigns supreme – the Alpha. Whether through wisdom, strength, or both, the Alpha leads and the pack follows. But being Alpha means proving it every full moon. There is no animosity between wolves, but when the moon rises on those fateful nights, crooning its siren song and drawing wrath from the hollow wail of starlight, blood boils and is spilled. The Alpha had earned his title moons upon moons ago, and his pack had slowly grown, its only purpose to survive in the harsh and unforgiving world.

Then one fateful evening, everything changed. One of the younger members, practically a pup, came back from a scouting trip far too late, just as the moon rose and tensions brewed. The pack collectively sensed it coming long before it stepped into the clearing, malevolent energy cascading like a foul miasma. There was no melee, the presence of the pup swept away the aggression like a gale, leaving only apprehension and uncertainty. It pounced, and the Alpha responded in kind. The raw power of the wild and decades of experience amounted to little, with the pup as strong as he was, and the Alpha was faced with the terrible choice: flee and abandon his pack to the youngling, or be torn to pieces where he stood. In the end, he decided his death would solve nothing, and he had faith in his pack to preserve what they had all strived for under his watch, even in the grip of this upstart high on borrowed power. And so he retreated, casting off his pride, his dignity, and all that he was. He knew neither he nor any of his pack would have withstood the full might of the pup in such a state, and so he required help to reclaim his family. He would have to find new allies, and grow stronger himself. He finds himself in Pandemonium, in search of help, a new family, and a new self.

A demon asks his name, and he stops. He had always been Alpha, but Alpha had been left behind. What did that leave?




Apocalypse NexaNexa Buznik