By Chuck Wendig, Aaron Dembski-Bowden, James Comer, Steven Marsh
"Welcome to our land, my brothers within the blood of the wolf. It used to be clever of you to procedure us humbly, for we're beneficiant and type to people who don't draw our anger. Come and let us know tales of the beasts you might have torn aside, the foes you could have defeated, the boys and ladies you've got enjoyed. after which we will hunt jointly, host and visitor, and we will see who the dakini worry more."
Karna Blood-Armor, Rahu of the resort of the Sacred Thread
This e-book includes:
* 22 new inns representing the werewolves of the area, from Poland to Japan to Antarctica
* New presents, rites, advantages and fetishes for the pick out, in addition to pattern characters to force a brand new story
* additional info on editing hotels to fit a brand new locale or an altered objective
Read or Download Lodges: The Splintered (Werewolf: the Forsaken) PDF
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Additional resources for Lodges: The Splintered (Werewolf: the Forsaken)
R egional Lodges The Lodge of the Black Woods is presented here as an example of a variant social structure for werewolves that simply takes the mechanical form of a lodge. This lodge can very easily be adapted to other locales if the Storyteller is interested in setting up a chronicle in which the fierce rivalry between Forsaken packs is downplayed or shifted to a “cooler” form of politicking. There might be an American “Lodge of the Grand Canyon,” or a South American “Lodge of the Mother River” or so on.
Motorhenge (Locus Rating ••) In its heyday, Route 66 provided a veritable cornucopia of brief touristy destinations — crazy theme motels, wigwams, dinosaur museums, World’s Biggest Ball of Twine, animal oddities (like the twoheaded snake or the pickled lamb with the human face). One of these destinations is a recreation of Stonehenge made with various vintage vehicles. An old De Soto makes the center altar — the surrounding sentinels are formed of Cadillacs, BSA motorcycles and old Dodge D100 trucks, all half-buried in the Mojave Desert.
A few went over to the other side, converted by honeyed-tongues and terrible tortures. The Mother Road herself cried out. Legends today say that all up and down the length of that already broken road, the blacktop split and roiled, as if shaken by a deep and troubling quake. But it isn’t over. A coalition of Iron Masters has decided to take its territory back. They ride their motorcycle mounts and truck convoys down the hidden roads of the American West, striking small packs of Pure much as they themselves were hit a decade ago.