As a Werewolf, growing up, I knew my place. I knew what I wanted out of life. I had the most amazing wife to call my own. My Alpha made me his right hand. I would have done anything for him. My Pack was important to me. I protected my people against all and any threats. Then, one day, it was all taken from me in the matter of moments. I was forced in a cage and starved half to death. I was beaten on occasion if I didn't do as my tormentor asked. I was strung along and fed lie after lie, until I submitted and obeyed, like I was his loyal dog. He forced a goal upon me, took my life, and made sure I followed my new goal to the letter. The Werewolf in me made sure I was loyal. It was almost as if he were my new Alpha. After a while, I was free, at least in a sense. I met a group of outcasts who took me in and changed my ways. Now, I am doing everything in my power to make all the wrongs in my after-life, right again. I won't let anyone or anything get in my way. I will bring my tormentor down.
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