Werewolves R Us (Bestie Vibes Only)

 Oh you know an rp is gonna be legit when it’s got some ominous trees in the introductory post. 

An ocean of trees spanning miles circles the small town of Hoodlum. It’s residents mainly include those involved in its tourism attraction of beautiful log cabins and hiking trails in the wilderness. The tourists themselves are from all walks of life. The locals, on the other hand, have been known to be strange, unhinged, and it’s not uncommon to hear one easily disappeared among the dense foliage while walking with them. 

The town has created many odd tales since its creation. Most have been ghost stories or scary tales, thought to be good fun. A new mystery shakes the town when a group of teens are found by the local police. They were alive, shaking in a huddle of the towns abandoned toy store. They were dirty- they had climbed through the dirt and a worn hole in the side of the building. One brandished a bloody knife.  

“We fought a wolf!! We fought a wolf!!” They cheered, waving a backpack in the air. “We cut off its paw!”

The teens were then quickly moved to the local police office to be questioned. 

In the backpack was a severed hand. 

Rules

• Please read and be aware of Wolvden’s community rules when role playing.
• You CAN play a child character, specifically under 16, but I will enforce “plot armor” on them in a form. I’d like them to not be harmed or participate in a romantic relationship. I’ll allow your adults the opposite 💀
• If you Mary Sue.... like at least make them interesting. 
• Any canines are allowed in werewolf found. Honestly I wouldn’t stop you if you wanted to be a werehamster... but that’s more of a shapeshifter and I’m not afraid of it, you know?? It’s spicy but not spicy. Like Paprika. 
• Have as many characters as you want, just keep track of them. 
• You are allowed to fight other characters, but you must have consent from the other role players that the hits... hit. 
• I’d prefer if you role played in third person, but this is chill so whatever. 
• If nobody signs up I will be replying to myself skjssgsusi
• To talk out of character, OOC, please do so at the top or bottom or your post in parentheses. I like to do double parentheses for spice so that’s also cool with me. 
• I may adjust these rules as needed. 

To join just simply introduce your character. You may do so in a paragraph or a bulleted list. Just give the information you deem most necessary. For example: Name, age, gender, if they are a werewolf, what does their werewolf form look like, what are they doing in Hoodlum, their appearance, etc. Things YOU want to note for yourself, and perhaps what others can notice about your character when they interact with you. I’ll be posting my own soon. 

((C’est moi))

Arthur Wilson Oakley-Opry is a local cashier at a grocery store in the center of Hoodlum. He is 25 and would have the masculine charm of an outdoorsy man if he didn’t only own polo shirts and jeans for work. His hair is short, fluffy, and unbrushed. His eyes are dark as night. His facial hair was on the way to being a nice beard and got lost on the way. He is strong from lifting products all day and from... outdoor activities. 

Arthur is a werewolf. He was bitten at a young age and has been able to turn for most of his life. The wolf he becomes resembles the coyote-like colors of Eastern wolves, which are just a bit smaller than grey wolves. He is able to shift back and forth as he pleases, but struggles to stay human around possible prey. His eyesight as a wolf is fine- his eyesight as a human is poor. He should wear glasses but had a tendency in the past to lose them when he ditched his clothes in the woods. 

// Intro & Character profile

Across town from the supermarket, in the Timberside Library, (a small, but well-stocked local library that supplies the people of Hoodlum with plentiful reading material on nearly any subject) the desk clerk Christine sighs dejectedly. Another slow day, another afternoon sure to be full of the dull, minimal interactions with weekday regulars. Mrs. Penderson, the owner, would be by around 4:00 pm to relieve her, but until then it was just her, the dust, and her student debt.
It is difficult to pay for school, after all, when one is a werewolf. Or, well, really just in general - lycanthropy notwithstanding.

Christine, unlike some of her neighbors in town, was a natural born werewolf. This, oddly enough, didn't amount to anything too special in her daily life. Aside from some rather unique family traditions, and a permanent set of dark circles under her eyes, she'd appear to be just as human as the 97% homo-sapien majority of the Hoodlum population.

Christine can often be seen in an earth-tone sweater or a band t-shirt–weather depending, of course–layered with a long, forest green jacket with blue inner lining. She is also a known fan of corduroy pants (always cuffed to show her fun socks that have wolves or cool patterns on them). On her feet are an old pair of work boots, usually covered with mud from the forest. She wears circle-framed glasses that are just a little too big for her face. She will be 27 this October, and has planned to ask her parents for art supplies and some ecological field guides for her birthday. Herbaceous plants, mushrooms, insects, small mammals, that sort of thing. She had been quite familiar with the local flora and fauna from a young age, since the wolf half of her had plenty of up-close experience with nature. That said, she had taken a special interest in recent years from a more qualitative angle, and was on her way to a masters in scientific illustration if she could make it through this only-occasionally stimulating off-season job.

// end character profile

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Christine sighed, and thought to herself: "At least I can get some freelance stuff done while I'm on desk... It's about the only productive thing I can do here aside from reorganizing the mess in the storage room." 
"Uggghh" she groaned, audibly. "I'd do anything to be out in the woods chasing these mice right now."
She had been working on an illustration of deer mice, Peromyscus maniculatus, for a client in New Jersey. They looked appetizing.
Without any warning, a book slid across the desk and bumped into her sketchbook. She nearly fell out of her chair.
"HELLO Can help I you?–Uhm–Can I help?–Can I help you?" she sputtered out, pushing her glasses back onto her face.
"HI! I wanna checkouuut... this one, aaaand this one!" a chipper voice responded.
Christine looked up from the books and tried to blink the library desk brain fog out of her eyes. "Jenny? Oh hey! sorry, you scared me; for a moment I thought you were that kid from last week who came in here and ripped all the dinosaur books off the wall."
"Woof, no way pardner. My sympathies for that whole debacle, again. I'm just here to fill out some more of my cheesy YA dystopia novel reading list."
Christine grimaced and smiled at the same time while she scanned the books. The one on top was called The Lostpath Chronicles: Book 1 - The Seven Secret Cities of Silver. "I don't know how you still manage to read those things, aren't they all the same? ...And didn't I tell you to stop saying "woof"?"
"Not in the slightest. I won't have you debase the good name of my favorite over-saturated genre. And yes, you did. Obviously I didn't listen."
The two of them shared a knowing, sly grin. One of Christine's slightly-more-pointed-than-usual canines glared through her lips when she smiled. They were the one thing she kept wolflike about her appearance while in her human form. Jenny noticed and stuck her tongue out in response. "Bite me, nerd." she said as she swiveled away and made her way to the door.
"Maybe I will!" She called back. The door clacked shut.
Jenny was cool. She had always hovered somewhere between good friend and crush ever since Christine had "accidentally" kissed her in the deep end of the Hoodlum Community Public Pool at Jenny's 15th birthday party in high school. She could still taste the chlorine and discomfort if she focused. "Uggghhhh. I'm cringe"  Christine thought to herself.

As scheduled, the rest of the afternoon was pretty boring. Mrs. Penderson came by at 4:00 with a coffee for herself and a biscotti for Christine, as was their usual custom.
"Anything interesting today hon?"
"Oh just embarrassing myself in front of a crush, drawing mice. Ennui. And you?"
"Ha, lovely. I'm going to beat Bill Daffers with a brick if he sneaks into my greenhouse to eat my bell peppers again."
Christine lurched forward in silent laughter as Mrs. Penderson looked on with a smirk. "He did it again?!?"
"Oh yes. But this is the last time because he's going to get brained if I catch him in there again."
"Mama P I better not have to come read to you in jail."
"Oh they won't catch me, I'll be in Canada by the time they figure out what's amiss."
The two bantered on for a little while, and Christine eventually made it out to her car, a blue pickup truck. She fumbled to get the door open while crunching on the biscotti. It was stale, as usual, but still pretty good.
Then the smell hit her. It was repugnant, and sick-smelling, like a seeping wound. It was coming from somewhere in the immediate vicinity–easily within ten feet if her canine sense of smell was to be trusted.
It was. In the bed of her truck was the bedraggled body of a wolf. Its fur was matted with blood and filth, and flies buzzed noisily above it. Christine gagged. She was used to harsh odors from wounded prey, but she always hated to see another of her own kind like this. She figured it would be just as bad for a human like Jenny to see one of her species were in the same position.
Christine edged her face over the side of the truck bed. The smell kept coming in waves, and she did her best to stay strong. One of the front paws was missing. She gasped and stepped backward into a puddle. The splash alerted the wolf in the bed of the truck, whose eyes opened in a flash. It perked its head up, made eye contact with Christine, then leapt out of the truck bed and quickly limped into the woods beyond the parking lot.
Christine stood gape-mouthed at the treeline as the halogen street lamp flicked on and tiny moths began to dance in its glow.

((I’ll throw these kids down and I’m sure we can meet somewhere in the middle. I’m adding Kmart just because it feels right in that it doesn’t feel like it exists anyway. If you’d like to be the one-handed werewolf or anything, you’re welcome to))

The Hoodlum Kmart existed in a liminal space. Most Kmarts existed there, but this one was Hoodlums. Arthur stood poised at his cashier station, pointer finger ready to enter his employee number into the system,, ready in case the nearby old woman was done fiddling with the discount gloves display. He checked his watch. 4pm. He checked it three hours later. 4:10pm. 

She was fairly local, a yearly tourist. An elderly 80-something whose body was covered by the biggest fur coat he had ever seen. She set her things down and he started to scan them. Five pairs of gloves. Her scent lingered on them like the uneaten strawberry candies that he could smell lingering in her coat pockets. 

“Are these for your grandkids?” Arthur asked the question just to make conversation. The old woman fretted with her hands and chuckled a bit.

”Yes, their father got hit by a truck last week, and the one just got cancer.” She seemed fairly unbothered. “I think these will be nice gifts.”

”Oop. Yeeup, I think you’re right. Will that be cash or card?” 

The remainder of their interaction was normal. Arthur had dealt with the public for quite a while and knew part of his unwritten job was to be a surprise therapist. He would have to mention this moment to his actual therapist later. As she left he trudged back over to the clothing displays to reorganize them. It was kind of a slow day apart from the few (but expected) eccentrics. At least he was almost off the clock, and anything that would make the time go faster was welcome. 

His wish was almost immediately answered. In the corner of men’s boxers and men’s white socks sat a lanky boy with green hair. His head rested in his hand as he stared into the grey abyss of the store. He looked bothered, guilty even. Arthur recognized him as another regular, or a piece of a pack of high school seniors that raided Kmart for gaming cards and candy. They were abundant and loud and rowdy and fun. This was one of the nicer ones. 

“Where’s your crew today? Did they ditch you?” Arthur asked him, tidying a rack of jeans in view of the teenager. The boy jumped, broken out of his trace, and whipped his head around to view Arthur. There was something about him- the large eyes, small nose, and round ears that reminded Arthur of a corned mouse. He very quickly relaxed at the sight of a familiar face. 

“Pfft,” The boys voice was quiet, “More like I ditched them.” He paused. “Hey... are you cool?”

”Frick yeah I’m cool.”

”Sure... I mean, like, can you keep a secret? Did you ever do anything that might get you in trouble?”

I can turn into a werewolf at will! I have hunted and trespassed all over this town under the cover of night. Arthur snorted. “Yeah man, what happens in apparel stays in apparel.” 

“Good.” The teenager adjusted himself around a tiny flat space of wall. “A bunch of us went out last night to hang out. We went into the woods where the big fire was when I was a baby and where the old toy store burnt down. A lot of my class mates went home by midnight but a few of us stayed to explore more. We found a big hole in the side of the toy store that crumbled and went inside-“

Arthur froze. He was familiar with this place, from his exploration as a wolf. He had not met another werewolf, but was familiar with their scents and markings. He had crawled through this hole himself once, but left before he could run into an angry pack. The whole place was dark and rotting and full of silhouettes and smells. It was a long-term second home of... someone. Probably several someones. 

“-Anyway, they kept going in, and I was in the back and my phone was at 2%. It was so dark. I freaked out. I booked it right out of there and back home. I haven’t talked to any of my friends yet today.”

Arthur thought for just a moment to choose the right words. He didn’t necessarily at this moment want the boy to think he had left his friends in grave danger. “I’m sorry, dude. Did you talk to any of them since? I’m sure they’d understand why you left. That toy store isn’t exactly as safe as it used to be.” 

“Yeah, some of them texted me right after I ran.” The boy shrugged, running his hand over his green waves of hair. “They just wanted to see if they could find Magic cards or lego sets. I think they were about ready to leave shortly after I did.”

”Then you have nothing to worry about. I’m sure the worst they’ll do is tease you a little about it. They’re still your friends.” 

The boy looked a little relieved. “Thanks... I’ll definitely text them.”

”No problem. But!! Definitely don’t go back there.”

A service button was pushed by the cashier stations at the front of the store. Arthur peeked over the clothing racks to see who the heck needed help this close to 6pm closing. A pair of police officers caught his eyes and they locked on to him as well. Arthur sighed, knowing whatever this was that it was now his problem to solve. He half-ran to them awkwardly to close the distance. 

“Hi there officers, what seems to be the problem?” 

“Hello. We’re looking for members of this group of seniors, they may be in some serious trouble.” The shorter officer had a written list of names Arthur didn’t know. As an underpaid cashier, he knew faces, not names. He told them so. 

“Specifically,” the taller officer continued, “we’d love to talk to Benjamin Ludwig. We’re told he’s easy to spot. You probably have seen him. Tall, skinny, green hair.”

Arthur felt himself go cold. “Oh, um...” A presence dwarfed him to his right. He turned to find the aforementioned Benjamin Ludwig himself at his shoulder. 

“I’m Benji. I’m so sorry... I knew it wasn’t good, that’s why I ran back home...”

”We heard from your friends you weren’t there long. Relax. We just want to talk.” The short one patted Benji on the back, nodded to Arthur, and the two officers led the kid out the doors into the fading light of day. 

Arthur watched them go, feeling off. His eyes watched the police car disappear behind the trees as quietly as it must have appeared. Something must have gone wrong. He checked his watch. 4:56. The other employees could make it without him for the rest of the day. Arthur found a supervisor and clocked out, aiming to head home as fast as possible. 

Christine stood in line for a medium chai tea latte at The Paw Bean, Hoodlum's only wolf-friendly coffee shop, which was by chance, also Hoodlum's only coffee shop. She was positive the staff was unaware how included their cheeky theme made her feel. Hoodlum was known to denizens of other nearby towns as the town that had marginally more wolf sightings than average for the region, but again, if only they knew. As a result, there was the Paw Bean. Elsewhere in town, there was clever park signage, some well-placed graffiti, and a couple special menu items at Zoe's Diner that bolstered the town's unofficial wolf theme in small ways. It might have felt more tacky if it wasn't also just so delightfully quaint.
Christine left the Bean and made for her truck on the street parking. It had been 14 hours since her encounter in the parking lot of the library, but it was still fresh in her mind, and in her nose. She had slept for about three and half of those hours.
She got in the truck and stared at the radio display, steadily dissociating as the car came to life and her CD player clicked onto the next disc. My Bloody Valentine's Loveless quietly did its best to roar through the speakers, as the volume was down quite low. She sipped her latte.
"Yikes" she croaked aloud to the dust on her dashboard.
Might be nice to call Jenny, She thought.
And say what? " Hey can you be my therapist for werewolf stuff because I can't talk to anyone else about this thanks haha"
Nope. Dumb idea.
Mom? Dad? Maybe. Could go ok. Or they'll get super worried and paranoid that I'm being stalked. Which is valid, but the extra stress would be the opposite of helpful.
"Uggghh"
A skidding of plastic sounded just outside the car.
"Hey lady you ok?"
She was a bit flustered, and started to speak:
"Lady? I-"
She remembered she was 26 and technically an adult now. Gross.
"Ugh uh, yeah I'm okay. Wait. Chuck?"
Chuck Staples, the neighbor kid who she babysat through her high school years, stood outside her car, grinning a stupid grin. He held his skateboard in one hand and a cigarette in the other.
"Sup Christie?" he smirked.
She hated that nickname. Chuck could be alright, and was a good kid at heart, but he was also a serial pest.
"Not much. You getting an early start on lung cancer, jackass?" She smirked back, bearing the edge of one of her canines.
"Yeah I'm gonna like, die young after my music career takes off so I don't have to work at a library and have weird teeth."
She gaped, incredulous. What the hell!!
"Chuck, you're lucky your dad's a boxer or I'd have to come over and break your legs this evening. Actually, I think he'd be cool with it if I did, Doug's an understanding guy."
He stuck his tongue out at her, and she threw a wadded up receipt at him that she had stealthily grabbed while busting his chops.
"Speaking of your weird teeth, I saw a guy at the K-Mart who has the same kind of thing actually. Is that like a genetic disorder or something?"
"What are they teaching you at that school? Yeah, it's genetic."
Internally she quickly flipped through her rolodex of known werewolves in Hoodlum. Who has fangs and works at K-Mart?
"This dude works at the K-Mart you said?"
She realized how sleepy she sounded. Her voice was positively gravelly.
"Yeah he's a cashier. Yo uhh, could I actually like ask you a favor?"
"No I'm not buying you cigs."
"Criiiinnge"
"Bye Chuck."
She put the truck in drive and pulled out of her parking spot into the street, en route to the library. For once in the last 14 hours she wasn't thinking about or smelling the dirty blood she washed out of the back of her truck the previous night.


Who has fangs and works at K-Mart?

Arthur couldn’t believe he just worked at K-Mart. 

Arthur revved up his ugly little green Kia Soul and started the drive back home. He had started a degree in forensics in college before dropping out, and was a werewolf. Two things that should have prepared him for this very moment! And yet! He had to run from his minimum wage liminal space. 

Something was up in Hoodlum. He felt the call to check out the Toys R Us like the moon’s pull on the ocean. It was just that he was unprepared. Arthur has no way of knowing what he’d be dealing with once he was there. It was in a similar area that he, as a young child, had been playing in the woods with his neighbors. He had been climbing over the large, moss-covered rocks of the forest when he had startled a young wolf napping under it. The wolf bit him on a scar still present on his ankle. Then, it was gone in an instant and Arthur had nervously hidden the bite on his leg by rolling up his pant leg and securing it as make-shift gauze. The reaction was pure fear instinct. He knew the mythology of Hoodlum by then. His worse fear came true not much longer when he was able to turn…. 

Only his grandmother knew. He had never seen another werewolf since. For most of his life, he had not wanted to meet another.

Arthur came upon the fork of the road between heading up his his apartment and going deeper into town. At the last moment he flicked on his turn signal and decided to visit the library. He needed knowledge, and perhaps the calming vibe of being around quiet people. He pulled in and got out, still in uniform and looking a bit unkempt. He sat down in one of their computer chairs once inside, and started pulling up any articles containing the Toys R Us from the local newspapers. Nothing. There was only mild articles telling the story of the fire so many years ago. A Jedi burial to a chain about to go bankrupt. Nothing more, nothing less. 

He tried searching “werewolves” briefly. Also nothing too interesting. Just fun stories about the town’s lore, and a couple of events and local stores that made the entire town a bit more fun for tourists.

Arthur waded through local stories, simply drifting. There was nothing to support his correlation with the old toy store.