Evan Mortimer
Pealing Tempest

Ilani of the Pumonca
Day of the Stormstruck Roads Pride

Description


Homid: ~Rugged and relaxed, youthful and mature, Evan is a case study in contrast. His casual attire -- jeans and a sweater -- are ruddy and weary. The materials just can’t keep up with the infinite pace of the wanderer. The good-looking young man strolls laconically across the grass, earth, and asphalt, sneakered feet accustomed to walking always, everywhere. His light skin tone implies Caucasian. His body weight can be guessed as standard for his height -- approximately 150 pounds. Evan’s amiable smile implies a good nature. Dark, nearly black hair is short but a bit messy, as if he hasn’t discovered the benefits of man’s invention the comb. Retro sideburns frame his ears and lively, brown eyes. That gaze is as mobile as his feet, shifting to and fro, watching everything. Still, despite his easygoing veneer, there is something feral and wild behind the dark-brown orbs. Perhaps it’s the golden flecks in his eyes, almost feline and rabid.~

OOC: Appearance 3; Ferocity 8, Honor 5, Cleverness 7

Sokto: ~Wild and fierce, brawny and smooth, the Pumonca’s Sokto form conveys a preternatural grace and fervent hunger. Though some fifty pounds bigger and freckled with a variety of definite feline traits, including vestigial whiskers, his agility and animal magnetism does not detract from his good looks. His hair lengthens and grows more wild yet, while the brown of his eyes becomes the flecks and the gold the main hue. He is clearly not human.~

OOC: Appearance 3; Ferocity 8, Honor 5, Cleverness 7

Crinos: ~Towering and ferocious, Evan’s Crinos is both inspiring and terrifying. All clothing and skin vanishes, replaced with tawny golden fur. Prehensile paws boast bone-white claws with pinpoint tips of black. The beast is easily over seven feet tall, but remains as swift as a cat can be expected. His head isn’t at all human except the intelligence in his eyes, weighed against hungry instincts. The five hundred pound giant puma's muzzle boasts a carnivore’s rack of teeth and keen sense organs. There is a sense of intractability about the werecat, as if where he stands is where he stands: "I am what I am". He is divinity clothed in raging claw, fang, and fur.~

OOC: Appearance 0; Reduced Delirium; Ferocity 8, Honor 5, Cleverness 7

Chatro: ~If war it is, Evan feels far more comfortable in this fleet, powerful quadrupedal killing machine's shape. The mind-bogglingly fearsome, massive cougar is quite similar in appearance to his natural form, besides some four hundred pounds of pure muscle. The only more frightening aspect of this supernatural predator are the elongated canine teeth - bone-white sabre-teeth with pinpoint tips of black.~

OOC: Appearance 0; Full Delirium; Ferocity 8, Honor 5, Cleverness 7

Feline: ~Tawny and brawny, the fierce cougar is no push-over predator. The largest wild cat naturally in this hemisphere, Evan’s original form is his most comfortable. Over two hundred pounds, he is long and sleek, well-kempt and healthy. The mountain lion stalks vigilantly through the foliage in search of prey of mind and flesh both.~

OOC: Appearance 3; Ferocity 8, Honor 5, Cleverness 7

"You think something that doesn't move isn't really alive? The earth moves always. Listen to Her wisdom, before you have to feel Her fury."

History


Youth

Evan Mortimer never imagined he’d be called by that name. In 1990, he was still on his mother’s teat. In 1992, a pack of coyotes attacked and eat his adolescent brother. The frolic of youth was cut short as he found himself alone in the Great Basin National Park of Nevada. The young cougar was forced to grow up fast. He learned to fend for himself swiftly. But perhaps because his youthful vigor was forced to mature so soon, the mountain lion was curiously drawn to the activities of two-legged animals. He watched them use strange stones and ride in colorful trees. They amused him. So he began to observe from afar. As his interest increased, so did his boldness. The puma crept closer and closer to human activities.

First Change & Kuasha

And the year was 1993 that he was padding down a sandy incline when he saw a group of the two-legs at work at the base. He watched intently for a few minutes behind bushes as they drove a flickering rock down a hole they made in the earth. Now intrigued beyond instinctual good sense, the young cougar advanced beyond his hiding place. As he walked, his fur faded. He rose to his hind legs. His mass decreased to match the men. He was a man. He remained quiet, and so it was quite a shock to the men to see this young, naked man stroll up. Apparently, what they were doing was quite illegal (or they were hopelessly paranoid), so a couple of them brought handguns. Next thing the First Changed Pumonca knew, bullets were slamming into his torso and arm. He howled in pain and dashed back behind the bushes. The men gave chase…and found a horrible, sabre-toothed beast leaping out at them with an ear-piercing shriek. With the advantage of surprise, bulk, ferocity, and the hill, the werecougar easily rent the gunmen apart. The others fled with screams. But his instincts were back in full gear: he chased the fleeing men down and tore out their throats.

Muzzle covered in blood, the Chatro werebeast returned to his original puma form. He crept off guiltily, not sure what just happened, but not really hungry for manflesh (or anything else). He slinked off into the woodlands beyond and tried to return to his old, simple life. But every night he saw the moon, he couldn’t help but loose a fierce shriek or yowl of confused emotions. Fortunately, another Pumonca was traveling through the park. A Tilau-ranked metis, Fears-No-Day, tracked the kit down by scent and sound.

When Fears-No-Day caught up to the new werecougar, the kit was aggravated at the “territorial intrusion”, the unusual scent, and the metis’ ragged tail that looked as if it was unnaturally stunted. Despite that likely infringement to Fears-No-Day’s sense of balance, the kit could not drive him off. The ensuing catfight resulted in a sound subdual of the kit. Before he could crawl away to lick his wounds, Fears-No-Day changed into a man. The kit, shocked, followed suit unconsciously. And the metis began to speak, though the kit did not understand...until he spoke a strange, feline language the kit found he could understand the intent of: Kheurar. Anger seeping away, the kit listened to Fears-No-Day. The pair were soon under the Rite of Kuasha, and traveling the wilderness together.

And the kit’s First Year was spent roaming up and down the West Coast. Fears-No-Day taught him all there was to know about his true destiny, his people’s purpose, and his potent inherent talents. The kit worked on shifting, speaking the human tongue called “English”, and the difference between a hunk of raw venison and a Big Mac. All the while, he was called “Kit” by the metis, which was fine. He didn’t really think he needed a name. That changed after he demonstrated basic mastery of all the basic skills of being Pumonca: shifting, watching, hunting, obeying the laws, and remembering the Caliah. It was time for Human Culture Immersion 101. Fears-No-Day took the name of “Jason”, and named the kit “Evan”. Again, the kit was fine with that. A name to be called is just a name to be called. It wasn’t his real name. No one knew that, not even his kuasha.

So Jason took Evan into small towns first off. He outfitted the young cougar in human clothing, and let Evan practice that mystical ritual to bind the attire to his spirit so they wouldn’t shred when he shapeshifted. They hit an old cinema, ate at diners, and wooed young women for the fun of it. Evan found himself hooked on the “magic” of the movies though, and insisted on seeing more. He especially enjoyed the old Wild West movies. While hanging out with a girl in the drive-in theatre, he took the surname of “Mortimer” after a character in the Clint Eastwood film they were watching (she was naturally dubious, but hardly cared).

As Evan’s First Year neared its final days, Fears-No-Day took the kit aside. He told him of the dangers of corporations. He showed him examples of “land development”, and Evan felt Rage bubble up as the sight of an entire field of tree stumps waiting to be cleared for a new strip mall. The pair were in Oregon at the time. His kuasha led him from that site deeper into the beautiful woodlands of the state. There Evan observed an entire deforestation operation in the process of being set-up. Fuming with anger, he barely heard Fears-No-Day’s words: “destroy this business, recover their documents, and your First Year will be over”. And Evan fell upon that place that night, terrorizing lumberjacks, chasing down and maiming would-be defenders, tearing and smashing up equipment, and ripping through the mobile home-offices, claiming the record files. By the time rangers were on their way to deal with the rabid mountain lion, Evan and Fears-No-Day were fleeing along the river towards Canada.

Early Years

And that’s where Evan parted ways with his kuasha. Before leaving on his own trek, for which he felt very ready, the metis imparted the terrible secrets of the Yava. And he decided Evan needed a proper Pumonca name. He told him how he overheard the werecougar’s raging shrieks from above that final test, so he called him Pealing Tempest in honor of Thunderbird. Thanking him that night with a side of freshly stalked venison, Pealing Tempest (aka Evan Mortimer) then began to voyage alone.

For the next several years, Evan explored the country. The Pumonca kept to the wilderness mostly, skirting human settlements with mild curiousity. He mingled with humanity only enough to keep his English fresh, and an eye on the rapidly developing culture of North America. Evan traveled all over the northwest of USA and the southwest of Canada. He viewed much of the West Coast that he hadn’t with his kuasha. Then he headed east, crossing the Great Lakes with a profoundly entertained sentiment for the boat trip.

Along the way, Evan kept almost entirely to himself. In solitude, the werecougar was content. But he did meet other Shadow Folk. He encountered two other Pumonca, one female and one male, both of whom he passed after a brief conversation. He nosed into a wakeful Gurahl’s den once, and found the great bear a friendly host. The only Shadow Folk he actually found hostile were Garou. He figures he stumbled across their territory while in Quebec, for a veritable horde of angry wolves chased him away. He left them alone, only later learning they were probably xenophobic Wendigo.

Evan’s personal life was as personal as it could get. He took pride in seeing the world, wandering new trails, and watching people and animals from a distance. A couple times, he even learned a new spirit-spell from an encounter. Of the three normal mountain lions he encountered over the years, he beat the territorial male severely into submission and shagged the other two who were female.

But Evan didn’t just aimlessly wander the woods and hills and fields. Anytime he came across a human operation bent on deforestation or any other obvious land-raping business, he took action. Evan actively sabotaged legal (and occasionally) illegal operations with equipment destruction and anti-personnel terrorism. The latter usually included nothing but harmless pounces or puma shrieks, but blood-letting was occasionally inevitable. Fortunately, Evan was virtually unfindable, and no police or ranger efforts could find him. On the down side, which Evan didn’t realize, a side effect meant that areas he wreaked havoc through resulted in a growing paranoia of predatory animals like cougars.

In eastern Iowa, Evan came across the deforestation efforts to which he was accustomed. He fell upon the operation with his usual zeal. But his sabotage was sabotaged, for the lumberjacks had security guards. And the security guards had rifles. And the rifles fired silver bullets. Screaming in pain and fear, the werecougar was sorely wounded, and fled for his life, escaping into the dark woods. The guards weren’t daft enough to abandon camp to chase after the cougar. But they didn’t relent. The police were not called. The lumberjacks called in a private hunting party. Men with flashlights, silver bullets in their rifles, and barking hounds on leashes rushed into the woods after Evan. By the time they arrived, Evan had pried the bullet out of his thigh and licked the wound shut as best he could.

Yet he was not thwarted. Evan did not give up that easily. Outraged at the use of that painful metal, he fought a vicious guerilla campaign all night long against those hunters. The hounds brought the hunters to the cougar, but their flashlights didn’t illuminate the Pumonca before he was at their throats and off in a heartbeat. Bullets zinged off the ground and treebark, and only bloody pawprints and the hounds’ insistent snarls led the hunters…into another ambush. After seven long hours, Evan had dealt with the hunters, and the hounds were seriously outclassed against the near-frenzied chatro.

By dawn, the entire encampment had been brutally massacred, equipment wrecked. Records were stolen, listing a number of executive names in charge of the operation. Evan was one pissed off kitty. And his work did not go unnoticed. Spirits spread the word far and wide. The werecat trekked back north to escape authorities. He was resting in an alcove of stones when a little bird whispered in his ear: quite literally. The Robin-spirit conferred to Evan the news of a taghairm being held many miles back south in a month, and that he was to be the guest of honor. So Evan headed back south the next day and was in the area where the secret Bastet meeting would be held a week early.

Recent Years

So Evan attended his first taghairm in 2002. There he encountered three Pumonca, two Qualmi, and one Bagheera. He recognized only two fellow Bastet. One was the Pumonca female he encountered years back and the other was his old kuasha, Fears-No-Day. The taghairm was held to discuss events in the region, but Evan was groomed as a newcomer, and informed that he was indeed the guest of honor. He was treated to a nice steak dinner in the Bagheera’s house, and Fears-No-Day congratulated his work. All of the gathered Bastet agreed that Evan deserved the Rank of Aka for what he did, and Evan simply accepted the title.

After the taghairm, Evan went on his way alone again. He acquainted a handful more werecats, and felt more confidence with his accomplishments and abilities. Evan decided to enjoy a good drinking bash with his old kuasha, so they traveled to Sioux City. They drank the night away when they got there, playing with drunken women and practically starting bar brawls. On the way out, Evan had the scare of his life. Out of nowhere, for no apparent reason, hot pain shot through this head and he blacked out instantly.

When he woke up, he was in a hotel bed, and Fears-No-Day was tending to his head wound. The metis informed Evan that he’d been shot in the head, but whoever did the shooting didn’t stick around, because Fears didn’t find anyone. Plus, he was too busy dragging Evan off the street. Fears-No-Day told Evan what he knew of a super-corporation called Pentex and its wicked designs for nature. The metis seemed to be suggesting that the new Aka had crossed Pentex during this last eco-terrorism. Evan decided to immediately return to the wilderness. He bid Fears-No-Day farewell. His old kuasha returned the favor to his old student. Pealing Tempest walked down the highway and never returned to that town.

Since that apparent assassination attempt, Evan remained much more cautious about any human settlements. He skirted towns and cities, more or less. His trail brought him only a few months later to the center of the Midwest. Having never been in this region, Evan began to circulate in the area. He missed the mountains, but the woods and grasses were natural and beautiful in their own way. He stayed to learn what he could about everything of this flat land. And, he hopes, discover who wants to kill him -- and to end the threat before it ends him.

Battle Scars


Class: Deep
Description: One inch diameter pock mark
Location: Right outer thigh
Origin: Silver bullet from Pentex guard
Effects: none

Significant Other


The Pumonca met this young dreamer Kin in 2003. Through his easygoing nature and feral magnetism, he eventually enticed Page Namingha into the same sleeping bag. Now they camp together all the time. They take good care of each other and share deepening affections. Too feline in nature to consider marriage, Evan at least impregnated Page. On November 1st, 2004, Page gave birth to their son, Mato. It was not an easy labor for Page, alone with her mate in the woods. But they managed. That very night, Puma visited them ever so briefly, hinting at the child's Trueborn nature, and the obvious wisdom of their joining. Their child will prove a much needed fiber to keep the Pumonca attached to this woman he's chosen as mate. Otherwise, his wandering nature could be the cause of abandoning Page, regardless of how deeply he feels for her. So it seems these two will linger together awhile to come, perhaps traveling together with their baby. Perhaps they will travel west to Page's Hopi reservation to uncover more secrets of their proud lineage.

Page

Weakness
Wanderer's Zeal


Perhaps better called "Wanderer's Carelessness", Evan inflicts damage on whatever he feels offends the Earth. He never sticks around for human authorities of any sort to take revenge on the culprit. But he doesn't yet realize that his actions have repercussions. The clues he leaves that a mountain lion of some sort was at the scene causes men to crack down on the "threat" of cougars in the wild. He's almost causing as much damage as he's preventing.

Likelihood of Corruption


Low.

Evan stays away from most temptations that the forces of Asura focuses upon -- human vices hold no real sway upon Evan. Of course, he is a predator, and the Beast-of-War may yet sink its terrible claws in the Pumonca's soul. Even so, neither he or anyone else has realized just how resistant he will prove against the sly ways of the Wyrm. It is a gift yet to be recognized.

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