|Ethan Joel Kennedy|
|Alias||Joel, JoJo, Stands-Too-Close|
|Face Claim||Ben Haggerty/Macklemore|
If it wasn't for Edith Kenendy, there's a good chance Joel wouldn't have lived to see his first birthday. It wasn't his fault his parents broke the Litany, Edith argued, so when her Gerou daughter came to her and confided that she was three months pregnant with the child of another of Gaia's chosen, Edith wasn't exactly sympathetic to her plight. Even less so when her daughter insisted that as soon as the baby was born she'd be taking measures to make sure it didn't stick around long enough to bring shame to the family name. The Fianna might not have treated their Metis with anything more than contempt, but there was no way Edith was going to let the poor little feen who didn't ask for any of this get axed before he even had a chance to live.
The tribe had the elderly Kinfolk's back; back in the day getting rid of an unwanted burden may have been par the course, but these days the Garou needed every body they could get, even if that body was housing a crippled, ugly soul. So six months later when Joel came into the world kicking, screaming, and snarling, Edith volunteered to raise him, a deal the sept was more than happy to go along with; let someone else deal with the little mistake.
Which Edith did. It was a bit of a struggle, to say the least, raising a literal monstrosity, a pint-sized werewolf that couldn't see or hear properly. Her couch was destroyed more times than she cared to count, any toys offered to the little furball were ripped to shreds in seconds, and she had to constantly shoo him away from the door whenever anyone other than a fellow Kinfolk or Garou came knocking. For the first ten years or so of his life Joel had no idea there was more to the world than that tiny apartment he shared with his grandmother, but soon after his First Change, that door opened and he saw just how wrong he was.
Being a Metis, Joel knew from the start that at some point he'd become full-Garou, which meant that he'd be able to shift into a human form. Which was... interesting. A lot less hairy, a lot more squishy, and ugh, what a weird-ass mouth and screwy hands humans had. He improved his dexterity with those new stumpy fingers of his by drawing, something he had enjoyed even in Crinos, but now he had the added bonus of not cracking his pencils and crayons in half with the slightest bit of pressure. He had been speaking in the High Tongue since he learned how to talk, and while he could understand English from hearing it from Edith for a decade, actually trying to speak it proved to be a hell of a challenge for someone who had grown up growling and barking. He found a fine tutor in the world of hip-hop music; watching videos on MTV and listening to rap CDs helped him establish a rhythm to his speech, and once he got a solid grasp on the language he found he had a natural talent for wordplay and rhyming.
No surprise for someone born under the Galliard moon. After his First Change, Joel was re-introduced into Garou society, and while he was met with some prejudice from some of the more uppity, "pure" clans-- including his own-- he found himself getting along well with a good bunch of the Children of Gaia and especially the Bone Gnawers, who didn't seem to give half a crap that he was a sterile abomination. Which was good, because he found himself thrown in with a group of Gnawers and Coggies when it came time to go through his Rite of Passage.
The Rite itself sounded like quite the challenge; the group of green Garou were to deal with an unruly evil spirit that had been causing a ruckus in the subway tunnels under Brooklyn. Down into the depth they went, late at night, the lights in the station flickering like something out of an old horror film, spooky wailing carrying down the tunnels, a chill in the air... until they encountered the Bane, which reared up, looking as menacing as it possibly could, dark spiritual energy coming off it in waves, a true vision of terror.
The Theurge was the first to step forward, trying to sound authoritative as they told the Bane to leave the tunnels and never return, a move that was sure to be met with cackling and a refusal on the Bane's end. The cackling sounded a little more like whimpering, and the refusal was-- well, there was no refusal. The Bane whined and shivered and swore it would leave just please oh please don't hurt it, and then it was gone, poof, back into the Umbra, and all that was left in the tunnel were five bewildered cubs.
They had succeeded in their mission in perhaps the lamest manner possible, and on the walk back to the caern, the other four cubs were scrambling to come up with just what to say to the Elders. But the actual delivery of the bad news fell to the Galliard, that is, poor Joel, who stepped forward once they were back at the sept, opening his mouth to tell the tale of the lamest spirit to ever cross over from the Shadowlands.
What came out instead was a fast-paced, completely bullshitted tale of bravery, courage, quick wits, and good tactical ideas, an epic battle in the tunnels the likes of which no other group of would-be Cliaths had ever endured. Maybe it was his enthusiasm, maybe it was his mile-a-minute, rap battle-esque delivery, but by the time Joel dropped his last rhyme, Mother Larissa had an all-knowing smile on her face and announced the Rite a rousing success.
Thus Joel the screw-up became a bit of a local celebrity in the caern, at least for a spell, long enough to get some begrudgingly-delivered nods of almost-respect from a few of the Fianna, and that was good enough for the Cliath. These days Joel still lives with his grandma, intent on returning the favor she did by raising him now that she's getting up there in age. He answers the call when the sept needs him, but isn't terribly tied up in Garou politics otherwise. He's turned his love of drawing into a career, working at Cadaver Designs as a line and touch-up artist, often playing hip hop tunes at max volume (how else is he going to hear it?) in his work room as he works on people's ink.
Continuing Adventures Edit
To be added.
To be added.
If there's an adjective you could apply to a puppy, there's a damn good chance you could use it to describe Joel. Rambunctuos, friendly, excitable, flighty, they all apply. Toss in a bit about running into walls, acting before thinking, or taking things a little too literally, and you'd have a good base upon which to build this particular Galliard.
It's not a secret that the Fianna aren't the biggest fan of their Metis, and from an early age Joel was fully aware that he wasn't exactly a mark of pride for his Garou parents. That tends to have one of two effects on the offspring of two of Gaia's finest, either complete resentment or a deep seated longing to be accepted, and Joel ended up somewhere in the middle. If it weren't for his grandmother there's a good chance he would have gone full 'crawling in my skiiiiiin', but the woman took pity on him when no one else would, and ended up instilling some of his better qualities in them.
Grandma taught him the basics; treat others how you'd like to be treated (regardless of what those other Fianna said), remember that manners are important, be curious but cautious, and above all else, what other people think about you is none of your gosh darn business. Still, trying to teach all these rather human concepts to a pint-sized werewolf who had the social aptitude of his canine kin was a bit of a challenge, and while it ultimately ended up sticking, there were a few hurdles to leap, and the falls he took during the journey have repercussions today.
The learned pack behaviors and mentalities from his younger days haven't entirely gone away, and as a result Joel has a few tendencies most people would consider weird or off-putting. Standing a bit too close to others when talking, trying in vain to use his sense of smell in situations that don't necessarily call for it, getting car sick during long trips, and getting antsy in enclosed spaces are all par the course.
The only semi-fully-functioning sense Joel possesses is sight; all the others were dulled since birth, a side effect of being born Metis. Smell, hearing, and taste all function at half-capacity at best, and while he can see as well as just about anyone else, Joel is colorblind, all of which are pretty big disadvantages when he goes full Crinos. But it's not all bad; nine times out of ten he wins the 'I bet you can't eat/drink this' game, which admittedly is a handy skill to have when you hang out with the freak and geek type crowds.
To be added.
- Resist Toxin
- Edith Kennedy (grandmother)
- "Quote here."
- "Quote here."