"I sold weapons to the public!" Banicki wheezes. "Because it was my job. You damn werewolves wanted a public front for your crimes and atrocities, and the Three Families gave it to you. I gave it to you, by running a business. And you would have killed me for it. The Garou never showed me a moment's kindness or pity. Only the Answering Tiger understood. He taught me how to bring Jasper back."
He shifts, trying to conceal something in the darkness of the tomb. Amid the pale gleam of steel leatherworking awls and the fiery reflection of the copper mirror, you catch the cold white radiance of a silver scalpel. It looks like a pin in his swollen, leathery hand, but you know it could kill you. Even in your supernatural forms, you can't regenerate wounds from silver. And right now, you're just a regular human, unarmed and as vulnerable to conventional violence as anyone else…though some of the tools or ceremonial weapons scattered around the grave site look heavy enough to split Banicki's hide.
You take half a step forward—perhaps you can frighten him again as you did last time. But his eyes are cold and hard, and he seems ready for your ferocity this time.
"Oh, I see! Some Bane promised to resurrect your dead boyfriend and you swore yourself to the Wyrm." Idiot humans.
"The Answering Tiger? Is he the Bane spirit you compacted with to resurrect Heaney?" I need more information if I'm going to beat this thing.
"David, I know you're in pain, but the dead…they don't come back. That's one thing we Garou know."
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