I’ve seen a lot of shit in the time that I’ve been roaming the city. Good things, good people, bad things, Bad people, incomprehensible things, the wyrm. Us good guys, yeah that’s right, me…don’t stand a chance unless we do two things. First, we have to stick together. The forces of chaos and corruption are everywhere. They outnumber us, they outflank us, and way too often they outsmart us.
That means that not only do we have to be of one mind but that mind has to be ironclad. I have my suspicions about the elder counsel, about the mental influence the vamps used to sway them. And if what I suspect is true then there has never been a stronger case for honing our minds against their power. How can we defeat our enemies when we defeat ourselves.
Second, we play the long game. It’s something we’re not very good at. It’s something that we need to get good at if we’re gonna make a difference – if we’re gonna win the war. Our enemy has just been waiting us out. We build a sandcastle, they wait for the tide to sweep in. Time takes care of most of their problems. It’s not their enemy, it’s ours. That means we need to start working on our own tide. Something that is going to erode the foundations of everything that they have set up. Something that is continuous, that has momentum, that can do our work after any one of us…hell all of us are gone.
But first, back to step one. I’ve always been a tough little shit. I must get it from my folks. But, the body is nothing without the mind. I guess I’ve always known what I have to do – that a war is coming, and because of that, I’ve always push myself. Pain is more mental than physical. Shut it off, redirect it, there are 1000 ways to deal with pain. That’s where my lesson started, before I even realize what I was.
At first it was simple exercises, breathing techniques, putting your mind elsewhere. It’s good practice when you get the shit kicked out of you every day in an orphanage. Then I moved up. Self-mutilation. Testing the limits that I could endure. And when you wake up in a puddle of your own drool and piss you do it again. Then you realize you’re a werewolf which means you have to step up your game. Meditation. Taking your second breath. Facing the god awful things you’ve done. Wounding yourself on a spiritual level, and then owning what you’ve done, and getting back on the horse.
Out of everything that I’ve gone through, silver has been the best test. The ritual, that out of everything, has kept me focused. It doesn’t just hurt physically, it bleeds your soul, and for me brings back the memories of what I’ve done, all wrapped up with a pretty little bow.
I think I poked and prodded myself with silver in every way imaginable. Injected it, stabbed myself with it, ingested it, (damn near killed me that time). By now you’re probably thinking I’m some kind of deprivation, masochistic, psychopath, but you’d be wrong. This isn’t a game, it’s not extremism, it’s survival of the species, and if we aren’t ready to completely dedicate ourselves to winning we might as well throw in the towel.
The hard part isn’t going through with this kind or regiment, it’s convincing others of how important it is. Half the soldiers I know can’t even acknowledge the fact that something could influence them, let alone control them. Hubris, how’d that go for the Greeks? Come to think about it does hubris ever go well for anyone?
Anyway, we need more from this generation and the next if we’re to set the tide in the direction we need. I’m suppose to be meeting one of mine own here soon. Ahiga. I recognize the name. Wants me to dig up some info on his father. Suppose to meet him in a Turkish coffee house up on the north side. We’ll see if I can’t start with him.