| An object enhanced by this rite always has a die bonus equal to that of the lowest-quality version of the equipment it is meant to replace. The Rite of Permanence is one of three rites that have not been banned from the book Tribes of the Moon. It has been house-ruled to no longer be limited to one tribe.
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Nothing’s worse than being unprepared. Farsil Luhal the world over face similar problems, from needing to pick a lock without tools to being trapped in a junkyard with a powerful Claimed hunting for them. Whatever the situation, Red Wolf’s chosen improvise. She may use scraps of wire to pick a lock or a car hood to deflect powerful blows. When she’s desperate, it’s the work of mere moments to grab something and put it to use. Whatever she chooses won’t be ideal, but several werewolves become attached to their ramshackle solutions, especially those without the working capital to afford top-grade equipment. This rite bridges the gap between the haves and the have-nots. Through a combination of bribery and intimidation, the werewolf slowly changes the object’s spirit, making his temporary tool more permanent. A shard of glass partially wrapped in duct tape becomes less brittle and more knife-like, and a zip gun is easier to reload and less prone to jamming.
Other werewolves who know of this rite use it as another reason to brand the Farsil Luhal as irreverent materialists who focus on tools at the expense of their own capabilities. That said, some situations need tools that aren’t readily available without dealing with the wrong sort of people — and when they’re in your territory, that’s bad news. Better to improvise. Iron Masters who use this rite a lot develop their own style. While the function of their items changes over time, the original form does not. Some Iron Masters look like urban primitives, wielding trash and junk as surprisingly effective weapons.
Performing the Rite
The ritemaster must first create his jury-rigged tool and use it once without destroying it. If the tool survives that first use, she places it in a circle of broken consumer goods — from smashed satnav devices to parts of a burned-up car. By the light of the moon, she howls threats to the spirit while scrawling images that evoke her tool’s new focus in chalk around the circle. When she’s made one complete circuit, she doubles back on herself, chanting an entreaty to the spirit of the object and drawing representations of what will happen to her tool if the spirit resists her.
