Brakus the Shifter

One of the most persistent misconceptions about Skinwalkers is that they transform back and forth, sometimes appearing in Human form to live among Human communities and only assuming the appearance of a hybrid beast under certain conditions. One archetypal myth says that a Skinwalker will be compelled to shift with the rise of a full moon. Other legends describe totems or rituals that can change them back and forth. Historically, many people of Frostheim revered beast-shifters as divinely blessed, and called them forth for war. These Berserkers were said to don enchanted cloaks to transform into bears, wolves, and other beasts. Brakus, a young lad in the Kingdom of Frostheim, grew up enamored with these tales. A few elements of the Lumayan Church that operate in Frostheim still take a more accepting stance on Skinwalkers, due to this history. Their remote lodges are where Brakus went first to slake his burning curiosity about the Berserkers of old. But he was told that the age of Berserkers was past, and the archaic rituals used to engender their unique powers were no longer practiced, most knowledge of their detail lost in the Red Crusade. The priests encouraged him to live by the example of his heroes of old, but not in such a literal way. And they firmly told him to trifle not with Skinwalkers. The faith may respect them, and hope to guide them on the right path, but each and every one of them was nonetheless a grave potential danger, and that is something Frostheimers and even the Norr of old would agree on. Brakus refused to accept this answer. He was absolutely convinced the Berserkers of old were true shifters who retained their noble souls, and equally convinced that their glory days could come again in the present age. Abandoning theology, he turned to other sources of knowledge. Folklore and rumors, ancient ballads and cycles of legends, crumbling texts and the mutterings of decrepit elders – no source was too obscure or incredible for Brakus to pursue. Abandoning all else, he traveled all over Anhelt chasing one lead after another until, at last, he located a Dark Elf hermit in the depths of Durham Forest who claimed to be the keeper of an ancient spirit-wolf. The hermit, Khadarak, told Brakus that the creature had been his familiar, but now had gone rampant and could not be tamed or calmed again. Khadarak claimed that the wolf was descended from the very wolves the Old Norr created Berserkers from, bearing a still-pure magical bloodline. He asked Brakus to kill the spirit-wolf, and this, he assured the headstrong Frostheimer, would make Brakus like unto a pure and noble shifter of auld. Brakus did not hesitate a moment, but girded himself and set forth to find his prey. Thinking himself guided by destiny to bring new honor and glory to his ancestors, he used the keen senses and instincts that a lifetime of searching had built up in him and soon found the creature’s den. He struck in the light of a full moon, and took the massive and strangely lambent creature by surprise, and though it fought back, it did not recover from Brakus’ first savage blow. Brakus stood over the bloodied form of the shining spirit-wolf, and with one killing stroke of his ax, his dream began to come true. But, in ways that he had never anticipated, it became a struggle and a nightmare. As the hermit had promised, the wolf triggered the Skinwalker curse in Brakus, as if it had been born and bred for it. But if that wolf’s revenant spirit was meant to be somehow pure, it was yet impure enough to overwhelm that of the naïve, young Brakus. He had expected a shower of glory, instead his soul was assaulted and he was challenged to an inner battle more intense by far than any his body had ever known. That wolf had centuries of hunger in its cursed being, and Brakus felt his every memory and aspect being torn apart as if by a thousand jaws. Brakus the Shifter was born, and a cruel affront to Teleria created, a tragic beast that was the exception to prove a Skinwalker rule. Brakus does shift, for the briefest of moments, on nights that are thick with cloud or storm-wracked. Naked, cold, afraid, he feels his humanity reform for just a moment, and curses his old self, his hubris, for just long enough to remember his endless misery. Then once more the wolves of madness are upon him, and this brief moment of weakness ends, and Brakus the Shifter becomes once again a beast of terror and legendary violence.