Hunt: Showdown 1896 - Bark, Bone, and Blood

About the add-on

Crawling through snow and maggots, slipping on blood and ice. It was their first winter and their first memory, ending with the warm, feral breath of a young, hungry wolf. But the wolf took pity on the meager snack and brought it home to raise. Pups shared their warmth eagerly, and elders shared their food generously. Old and young alike tried and failed to teach the child to hunt, but still the babe grew strong through infancy. One night, the wolf-child vanished, worrying the pack for four days. On the fifth day, the child returned, hauling the corpses of a dozen greedy woodsmen back to the den one by one. This fed the pack’s bellies and spirits for weeks, yet the respect it earned lasted less than a season. The elder wolves died, and the young pups were left to find their own territory and form their own packs. Thus, not even an adolescent, the child was once again an orphan. Villagers came looking for the wolf-child's head, their bullets and fire ravaging the forest. They chased the child far, far from home over the course of many seasons—seasons of fear which stripped the flesh from the wolf-child's bones. Desperate and feral, they tore open the throat of the first creature they found and feasted ravenously. Their senses slowly returned and greeted them with a familiar scent: this was one of their old wolf brethren. A howl pierced the wind, warning of a hunt. The wolf-man ran fast on the strength of a hearty meal. Weakened in heart but strong in flesh, the wolf-man retreated to the mountains, still hounded on all sides by their old, unyielding family. Atop the highest mountain peak, there was nowhere left to run. The wolf-man could die here, burdened with the guilt of betrayal, or they could free themselves from shame with tooth and blood. And so it was that Iron Bark descended from the mountaintop, belly full and skin warmed by furs they did not have on the ascent.