Rubeus's Werecard

From: rubeus@xs4all.nl (rubeus)

Human Name: Alexander Blok
Were Name: None as yet. (previous incar. did not have a name as such)
Phenotype: Mental werejaguar. Human now but with severely catlike traits
	and dislikes
Birthdate: 24 october 1972
Birthplace: Alkmaar, the Netherlands.
Home Territory:  Cuijk, The Netherlands
Dream Territory: A forest where I can build my Œlair¹ and be away from
	most hoomans.

Physical Description, Human: Lanky, shortish (1 meter 72), long reddish
	blonde hair in a tail, sunken blue-ish gray eyes, long faced and long
	limbed. I look most like a dark version of Dirk the daring from the 
	game Dragon¹s lair. 
Physical Description, Were: hard to tell. The Œdreams¹ I¹ve had do not
	give me a good view of myself. But I am on all fours when sniffing out
	prey and tend to be somewhat shadowy and easily angered. 
	Upright standing yellow skinned with black spots.
	Savage serated teeth used to rend prey.
	Very brutish and savage.
Human Career:  Mage/writer/salesman

Hobbies/Interests: Magic, fantasy, horror and sci-fi novels, tarot
	reading, brazilian dance music and partying.
Favorite Movies: apocalypse now (especcially the murder scene at the end)
Favorite Were Movie: Wolfen
Favorite Literature: All of Michael Moorcock¹s work and also Gustav
	Meyrinck and Douglas Adams.
Favorite Were Literature:very hard to say, but I love the short story
	Carmilla by a french author by the name of Le fanu If I remember his name
	correctly.
Favorite Art: anything from 1920¹s Britain or France. 
Favorite Were Art: Anything brazilian and felinoid as well as depictions
	of real wolves.
Favorite Saying/Quote: Have you ever considered my friend that what you
	just said says a lot more about you than it does about me?
Favorite Were Saying/Quote: Prrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.
Favorite Personal Quote: Man is but a dreamer in his own dreams untill he
	awakes and sees that reality is infinitely more beautiful and encompassing
	than his dreams could ever hold.
Favorite Song/Band(s): Ministry, Hero and scarecrow from psalm 69.
Favorite Were Song/Band(s): Of wolf and man, Metallica.
Favorite Season: Early Autumn.
Favorite Holiday: Summer.

Preferred Prey: Monkeys. Their agility makes it great fun to toy with them.
Hunting Tips: Stay out of any wind, lay your nose close to the ground,
	mark your territory up wind from any prey if you can and never be affraid
	to get seriously scratched when chasing prey. The only things that can
	stop you from having a well filled belly as a were are your brains and any
	inclination to distrust your instincts.
Preferred Method of Attack: Head on.
Favorite Non-Were Mythological Beasties: Sylphs, succubi *GRIN* and Gods. 
Feelings Toward Vampires: Slimy bastards, who stink of decay.
Feelings Toward Normal Humans: They can be somewhat amusing in a deluded
	kind of way.


Personal Lycanthropy: 

	I found out that I was somehow different from what most people call 
human when I first started hissing at dogs and scratching myself on my 
head whilst making strange rolling throat sounds. Then when I was on an 
extended trip to the states I met up with someone who called himself a 
mental werewolf.

	He told me that I had been an werejaguar in a previous life.
Of course I did not believe him at all. and thought he was loony.
But because I grew to know him I discovered that if the man was crazy that
it was the most consistent and worldy form of madness I had ever known.
After a few weeks of contact between him and me I started having dreams
which I hadn¹t had since I was very small.

	I was in a wet forest somewhere.. 
	And my sense of smell seemed somehow different.
	I could smell things which my Œhuman self¹ would never have noticed.
And not only that my skin seemed warmer somehow and when i tried to walk
in the way I was accustomed to I simply couldn¹t. Not because I didn¹t have 
hind paws but because I simply wouldn¹t let my self. It seemed somehow silly 
to walk on my hind paws all the time when I could run and sprint far faster 
on all fours. The dream did not last that long and has since then not 
repeated itself very often but it was so vivid that I knew that somehow 
it was real. More real than my usual dreams at least.

	Well since then I have come to accept that somehow what my friend told me
could be true and have made some sort off uneasy peace with that part of
me which is in essence not a real part of my current incarnation in a
physical sense by just giving up on trying to find a truly rational
explanation for it.

	It is there and i guess that the only thing which I can do is live 
with it and try to have some fun while doing so.

	I do not really have any preference towards any form of were mythology at
the moment but I do have several theories about magic which might explain
lycanthropy as a form of astral (or etheric) magic.
The lycanthrope is then someone who has somehow contacted the totem animal
archetype which s/he feels the closest affection to and becomes a conduit
for the magical current of the archetype, effectivewly changing the
etheric patterning surrounding the lycanthrope causing shifting (mental or
otherwise).

	And yes I know it¹s a pretty crusty theory which does not really explain
that much at all but it¹s about all I have to go on when I look at the
whole lycanthrope experience through what I currently know as a minor
mageling.

	Since last reading this werecard I have had rather disturbing flashbacks
of eating human flesh and carving out hearts to a very dark god called
Tezcatlipoca.

	They have given me a way to relate my previously un human emotions to my
life and I have some kind off peace with myself because I know that I will
never use my savaganess for anything other than protecting the world who
is our mother and who loves us.

The following poem called plaything says it all.

Pure darkness courses through my veins.
As my eyes fill with unearthly rapture.
Pure hatred leads me by it's reins.
As I break free from the slavery I endure.
To rage upon this world that has unleashed.
A beast more terrible by far.
Than all the creatures of the field.
The forests they have tarred.
Through with their own misogynies.
Their horribleness uncouther than.
The savage beast that is the man.
Who dares to look into the eye.
Of those who cannot see.
And say with all the kindness in his heart. 
There is still hope for thee.