Chapter Two: The Garou

  Three important characteristics shape the werewolf character: breed, the birth race or the werewolf; auspice, the moon under which she was born and that determines her path in life; and tribe, the specific Garou family to which she belongs. These facets provide the framework on which to build the character's history, personality and story.
  Breed, auspice and tribe should inspire you, the player, to design a creative character, and each of these characteristics abounds with certain stereotypes that may provide an interesting starting point. But keep in mind that these characteristics are just guidelines. Individual quirks and paths for the characters come from playing, not from a piece of paper. Often, the exceptions to the stereotypes, the characters who forge their own way, make the most interesting personas of a chronicle.

Breeds

  Werewolves are both wolf and human; these halves of their souls cannot be pried apart or even divided down a sharp line. Having said that, though, each werewolf is born to a particular breed and raised in a certain manner depending on that breed. What determines breed? Simply enough, it's the natural form of the werewolf's mother, whether she's Kinfolk, Garou, ordinary human or wolf. If she's a wolf, then the offspring is lupus. If she's human, the child is homid. And if the mother and father are both werewolves, their progeny is metis. For example, Fireheart is a lupus Red Talon female. If she mates with a packmate who is Kinfolk, any Garou she bears would be considered lupus. And even if Fireheart mates with human Kin while in her two-legged form, any werewolf children from that union are still lupus. Female werewolves who bear offspring always wear their breed form when giving birth. The only exceptions to this rule are the unlucky females who bear metis. If they didn't assume their Crinos forms, they'd assuredly die from the experience. Note too that every so often, a werewolf child is born to an ordinary human or wolf mother who may be many generations removed from werewolf and Kin. Gaia alone knows whom to choose as her warriors.
  Each breed has its own strengths and weaknesses, and each group has a slightly different connection to Gaia. For example, many lupus believe that their link to the Wyld is stronger than that of homids. Then again, some homids become more wolfish than human, while a few of their lupus brethren discover that they like living in their two-legged forms. Homid and lupus alike generally scorn the deformed metis as sick reflections of Gaia's own malaise. Whatever the case, all three breeds provide interesting hooks for developing unique and flavorful characters.

Homid

  You were born to a two-legged mother, who may or may not have been a werewolf or Kinfolk. You grew up among humans and learned how to live in their society. Yet something always set you apart. Other kids found you weird, and your feisty temper brought on heaps of trouble more than once. As you inched toward puberty, haunting dreams pestered your nights. Maybe you'd wake up craving raw meat or drowning in a cold sweat. Chances are, someone, perhaps a distant relative, watched you from afar and took you away before your Change, which ended whatever life you may have led. Now you know the realities about yourself and your true people. Even if you really wanted to go back, it would be too hard. You couldn't possibly explain to your human family what really happened.
  Homid characters have no limits on what Abilities they may have. They're skilled with all kinds of modern machinery, like cars and computers, and they often have a knack for understanding both abstractions and concrete reasoning in subjects such as economics or algebra. In their breed form, homids can also handle silver with no Gnosis penalty.
  But being born human has some downsides, though. Homid characters are generally less intuitive and perceptive than lupus or metis. They're likely to rely on what they see and hear, rather than what they feel. Moreover, their innate connections to Gaia are weaker, as represented by their low starting Gnosis. Humanity has simply grown apart from the spirit world. Finally, the other breeds have some understandable concern that homids outnumber all other werewolves. The lupus fear especially that homids will prove dominant and desert their wolf cousins. This concern makes for some definite tension when the two groups tangle unexpectedly.
  Nicknames: Apes, Two-Legs, Monkeys
  Initial Gnosis: 1
  Beginning Gifts: Master of Fire, Persuasion, Smell of Man

Metis

  Metis rank in the lowest echelons of Garou society, for they are the offspring of lawbreakers who disobeyed the Litany and mated. It's a hard, thankless life that's made no better by the fact that all metis bear some kind of obvious deformity. Most werewolves point to this setback as a mark of Gaia's displeasure; others call it evidence of corruption. A few argue that too much werewolf blood is a bad thing — no flesh can contain such pure blood without developing a flaw. Whatever the case, you've survived from a hard birth, through years of living only in your Crinos body (the natural form of a metis), to finally undergo your First Change. Whether your parents raised you — as an outcast among the sept — or long-suffering but devoted Kinfolk did, you're now ready to take your place in the sept. Unlike homids, you have a lot of knowledge about werewolf society already — the good, the bad and the very, very ugly. Your birthright has toughened your body, your heart and your spirit. Only time will tell if you maintain your dignity and honor or let your dire Rage consume you utterly.
  Metis characters have no restrictions on Abilities. Like homids, they can understand various theoretical concepts that puzzle the lupus. But like their wolf relatives, the metis also have cunning instincts. While most lupus and homid werewolves would never admit it, the metis have many of the best parts of being wolf and human.
  The downside, though, is the mark of deformity that all metis bear. While a few who can do so may try to hide their defect, others reject the sham as dishonorable. They have to bear it, and so should everyone who sees them. Another flaw of this breed is that all metis are sterile; none can sire or bear children. In a race of beings that is dwindling, this flaw is ironic, especially since the number of metis has grown in recent years.
  Nicknames: Mules, Bastards, Obscenities
  Initial Gnosis: 3
  Beginning Gifts: Create Element, Primal Anger, Sense Wyrm
  Deformities: Every metis character must have one deformity, chosen during character creation. And while some deformities may have minor benefits, the bad should always outweigh the good. Storytellers should encourage players to choose defects that complement their character concept. Some possibilities for metis deformities include:
  • Albino
  You have no melanin in your body, no matter what form you take. As a result, your skin is faintly pink, and it bums easily, so stay out of the sun if possible. Your hair is stark white (not silver) and your eyes are blood red, which makes you a real anomaly among the werewolves. Take a +2 difficulty penalty on all Perception rolls if you're trying to operate in bright light without your protective clothing or sunglasses.
  • Blind
  Whether you have two eyes in the right place that don't work, or no eyes at all, you are totally blind. You fail any rolls involving vision automatically. At the Storyteller's discretion, though, you may take occasional bonuses with other sense groups.
  • Fits of Madness
  Mental illness plagues you on a periodic basis. Whatever your malaise, you tend to fall to pieces when you get stressed. Make a Willpower roll (difficulty 8) whenever situations get tough. Scoring any less than three successes makes you go quietly nuts for a while.
  • Hairless
  You have no hair or fur in any of your forms, making you a weird sight indeed. Take a +1 difficulty penalty to all Social rolls. You might be able to avoid this penalty among humans when you're in Homid form, although some people will be put off by your complete lack of hair even then (particularly if they note your lack of eyebrows).
  • Horns
  A pair of horns sprouts from your brow. They may be like those of a ram or goat, or perhaps you have a small pair of antelope-like antlers. You might even have a single short horn like a unicorn's. Whatever the shape this disfigurement takes, you suffer a +1 difficulty penalty to all Social rolls, and you are likely to be even more heavily scorned by your fellow Garou. (Horns are a mark of prey, not of a predator, after all.) If you actually try to attack with your horns (which may do Strength +1 bashing damage at best), you will likely lose some amount of Glory Renown for fighting like a prey animal instead of a Garou.
  • Hunchback
  You were born with a front-to-back or side-to-side curve of your spine that's worsened as you've aged. Not only does it give you a negative social stigma (+1 difficulty penalty to Social rolls), it also impedes your movement, adding a +1 difficulty penalty to all Dexterity-based rolls.
  • No Sense of Smell
  You have no olfactory nerves, so your sense of smell is nonexistent. This is an unfortunate thing for a creature who relies so much on her nose. You fail all Perception rolls involving smell automatically, and you suffer a +2 difficulty penalty to track prey using your Primal-Urge.
  • No Tail
  Not having a tail creates serious communication problems with others of your kind. You take a +1 difficulty penalty in all social situations while in Lupus, Hispo or Crinos forms. Likewise, your sense of balance suffers. You take a +1 difficulty penalty to Dexterity rolls as well while wearing those forms.
  • Seizures
When you're under the gun, you lose control of your body. When you botch an important roll, make a Willpower check (difficulty 8). Scoring less than three successes makes you writhe uncontrollably until the Storyteller tells you to make another roll. You can take no actions while experiencing a seizure.
  • Tough Hide
  Your hide's as tough as old leather, and it's wrinkled and dry with spotty patches of hair. Your Appearance can never be greater than 1, plus unbearable itching and hot spots are constant aggravations. On the positive side, you get an extra die on soak rolls, but it's only a small advantage to weigh against your smelly, scratchy hide.
  • Wasting Disease
  Your constitution is notably weak. You cough and wheeze, and you can't keep up when your pack trots along for hours on end. Take a +2 difficulty penalty on all Stamina rolls, including soak rolls.
  • Weak Immune System
  Unlike other Garou, you catch almost every germ that comes along. Sniffling constantly and often suffering from flu-like symptoms, you don't have the same ability to resist damage that others have. Because of your condition, you have no Bruised health level. When marking damage, begin at the Hurt level.
  • Withered Limb
  You have four limbs, but the muscles of one are atrophied, leaving it withered or paralyzed. Depending on your form, you can't walk well, and you run more slowly than other werewolves. You incur a +2 difficulty penalty on all Dexterity rolls when trying to use this limb.

Lupus

  Gaia's passion runs deep within your soul, for you were born in the wild as a wolf. You rose through the natural hierarchy of the pack instinctively, perhaps becoming the alpha, even though you sensed that you were somehow different from the others. Then you learned the truth: You weren't an ordinary wolf. You were a shapechanger; a werewolf.
  Now you run with a werewolf pack, and you try to see the world through new eyes. The human part of you is often difficult to understand; speech, for example, is layered with more nonsense than is necessary. And those strange manners! To you, every creature has a rank and place, and society is no more complicated than that. Those who rank highest eat first and expect greeting and respect from those who rank lower. Yet the homids have complex rituals for everything, from greetings to meals, and they speak of strange concepts like equality. To you, they seem to ignore the wolf in themovermuch. That's sad, because one thing you do understand is that the number of lupus werewolves lessens with εΰρh passing year. And every pup is precious.
  While you have a number of advantages, including a strong body and keen senses, you also have some limitations in that you know little about technology. Likewise, you don't follow human logic and reasoning. You rely instead on the powerful instincts Gaia has given you, which is reflected in your high Gnosis. However, beginning lupus characters have restrictions on purchasing certain Abilities, since they lack knowledge about human ways of life.
  Nicknames: Feral Ones, Four-Legs, Fleabiters
  Initial Gnosis: 5
  Beginning Gifts: Hare's Leap, Heightened Senses, Sense Prey
  Restricted Abilities: Beginning lupus characters cannot take the following Skills and Knowledges. You may, however, use freebie points to purchase them, perhaps as a result of your character's prelude. Similarly, you can use experience points to add these Abilities as a result of "training" in the course of the chronicle (which is a chance for Storytellers with a sharp sense of humor to have some devilish fun).
  Skills: Crafts, Drive, Etiquette, Firearms
  Knowledges: Computer, Law, Linguistics, Politics, Science

Auspices

  Regardless of their breed, all werewolves feel an inexorable pull toward Luna, sister of Gaia. Whether she shines on them with her full face or hides from view, they take comfort from her company and guidance. Luna is the one who shows a werewolf what his path and role will be in Garou society, and this path is called an auspice.
  An auspice is many things: It reflects the werewolf's general personality traits, attitudes and interests, as well as his duties in the pack. All auspices are important, for no werewolf can be all things to his people. As many different auspices are included in a pack, the unit grows stronger as a whole from the diversity of its individual members. Auspice also determines the inner Rage of the werewolf. Some Garou mothers try to use herbs or other methods to induce labor under a specific moon, which is one of the reasons that Ragabash and Ahroun are roughly as common as the other three auspices, even though the full moon and new moon appear only half as often as any other phase.
  Each young werewolf studies with an elder of the same auspice, learning particular Gifts and the role Luna has decreed for him in werewolf society. Werewolves often introduce themselves by auspice when meeting others. Whether the werewolf was born under a waxing or waning moon also has some bearing on his auspice and temperament. The waxing moon is a sign of rising Rage, while the waning moon hints at a cooler, more somber personality. Players might take this aspect of a character's auspice into account when considering: some of the character's minor personality quirks.
  Try as they might, some werewolves find that they are not suited to their auspice roles. Even though doing so is a direct insult to Luna, they may change auspices by renouncing their former auspice and identity through a Rite of Renunciation. This rite is a grave thing for any werewolf to consider. In addition to losing any former rank and Gifts to begin in his new auspice at Rank 1, he will face the deep mistrust of others until he has proven his decision more than justified, if not for the rest of his life. It is no small thing to spurn Luna's wishes, but sometimes a Garou must follow his heart.

Ragabash: The New Moon, The Trickster

  Only a real fool ignores the wisdom hiding in the guise of the trickster. She brings mirth to still the anger between two hearts and humility to those who need a dose in full. Moreover, the New Moon often has clever insights that make her a worthy advisor (or conniver). The Ragabash occupies an odd place in werewolf society. Many distrust her unpredictable mannerisms and peculiar sense of humor, but she's usually welcomed and given a free hand in the day-to-day life of the sept. The New Moon enjoys a rare flexibility within the normally rigid strictures of werewolf society. When there's tension in the air, the Ragabash is usually the one to lift it, even at the risk of a claw raking across her exposed, laughing throat. She shows a different kind of courage than the warrior, but one that clever elders don't underestimate.
  As the "questioner of the ways," the Ragabash has an obligation to play devil's advocate. Being a New Moon is more than being given a license to play pranks or undercut authority — it is a real responsibility. The Ragabash must question traditions and decrees not reflexively, but rather from an informed point of view. It isn't enough to cast doubt on an elder's proclamation; the Ragabash must have a solid argument supporting her contrary views. It's her task to make certain that her packmates see both sides to every issue, to be sure that they're taking the right option, not just the most obvious one. Of course, the Ragabash's penchant for cunning, sly tactics and subtle Gifts also tends to bestow a certain amount of responsibility as a scout, saboteur or even assassin. The new moon is the moon of stealth, and its children are the ones charged with using that stealth for the Garou's benefit.
  Initial Rage: 1
  Beginning Gifts: Blur of the Milky Eye, Open Seal, Scent of Running Water
  Stereotype: The Ragabash born as the new moon waxes is usually light-hearted and capricious while one birthed under the waning new moon has a slightly more wicked and ruthless streak. All werewolves of this auspice have keen senses of humor, and they try to find some wit in everything. If they have a flaw, it lies in not knowing how to show their sincerity. It's not that the Ragabash can't be earnest, quite the contrary. It's just that she may have trouble convincing her packmates when she means business. For this reason, as well as their incessant tricks, many werewolves unfortunately give little respect to the Ragabash.
  Quote: Scorn not my counsel, warrior. I am born under no light of the moon, and I am used to a view from the shadows. The words of your lips don't necessarily reflect the inclinations of your heart. Leave subtlety to those who can use it better than one such as yourself.

Theurge: The Crescent Moon, The Seer

  As Luna's most slender light shines on her sister Gaia, she reveals secrets of the spirits and their vast realms. The Theurge is the child of the crescent moon, and he is wisest in the ways of the Umbra and its inhabitants. Some call these seers the daydreamers of the werewolves, and many do seem to be a bit detached from their brethren. They can see and hear things that others cannot, as if they live half in the world of the physical and half in the world of the spirit. For all his alien solitude, though, the Theurge holds an important place in any pack. Without him, the werewolves would forget the spiritual side of their nature. They might wander lost and blind if they did not have his visions and dreams to guide them.
  The Theurge is usually his pack's ritemaster, the one who knows the most rites and takes the responsibility of performing them for the pack's benefit. He is also the one who typically negotiates with encountered spirits, as the one most likely to speak their language and understand their unusual modes of thought. The Gifts of the crescent moon assist the Theurge in these endeavors, although it also takes a certain kind of mentality to learn to "think" as spirits do. The closer a Theurge up grows to his spirit allies, the less familiar he becomes to people used to thinking in more physical terms.
  Beginning Gifts: Mother's Touch, Sense Wyrm, Spirit Speech
  Stereotype: Only an idiot would call a Theurge cryptic or equivocal to his face, but many of the Crescent Moons live up to the stereotype. They have a penchant for speaking in riddles and spouting off enigmatic sayings, simply because trafficking with spirits has made such talk second nature to them. Those Theurges born under the waning moon are apparently more adept at binding and forcing spirits to their will (and battling evil spirits to boot), while a Theurge brought forth under the waxing moon has a more charming, cajoling manner with denizens of the Umbra.
  Quote: Look, my child, not with σour eyes, but with σ our heart. Listen to the whispers on the wind. The sounds you hear are not merely leaves brushing on grass. No, those are the very spirits we have called to us this night. Honor them as they have blessed our caern with their presence.

Philodox: The Half Moon, The Mediator

  The half moon reflects the dualities of Garou natures: wolf and human, flesh and spirit, fury and wisdom, darkness and light. The Philodox is counselor, mediator and lawkeeper of the pack. Just as the Ragabash lives for laughter, the Philodox is born with the wisdom and desire to judge fairly the actions of her people, be those actions bright or ugly. She can't help but try to solve every dispute that falls in her path; such is the role Luna has destined for her. In times of peace, the ranking Philodox is often the leader of the pack. In times of war, she may well give over this mantle to the ranking Galliard or Ahroun. A wise Half Moon bears no grudge and understands that stepping down in such situations is likely for the best. Among the ultra-competitive werewolves, this behavior exemplifies her natural desire for balance and order more than any other.
  The Philodox often takes the role of alpha in her pack, although it's more common for Ahroun to lead in times of war. Whether she gains a leadership position or not, she's expected to remain impartial where her packmates are concerned; it's a poor Half Moon who favors one packmate over another. The Philodox also has the responsibility to keep the laws of the Garou in mind — if a packmate is straying dangerously close to violating the Litany, the Philodox should be the first one to notice and warn him against going any further. This responsibilty extends even beyond the pack; a good Philodox is concerned with the honor of each and every werewolf she meets. Of course, it's all too easy for such Half Moons to become quickly disillusioned in these desperate times....
  Initial Rage: 3
  Beginning Gifts: Resist Pain, Scent of the True Form, Truth of Gaia
  Stereotype: Buried so heavily in her role as impartial judge and jury, others may consider the Philodox aloof and somehow above the day-to-day trials of life. Such is particularly true of the Half Moon born under Luna's waxing gaze. The waning-moon Philodox may instead be edgy and perpetually concerned about everything around her being in perfect balance, to the point of making her packmates grind their teeth in frustration. Still, when trouble strikes, everyone looks to the Philodox for guidance.
  Quote: What, another fight? I would have thought better of you two. Imagine a great warrior and a wise sage squabbling like pups! Now, give me the whole story. And no silver-tongued words from either of you. Just the facts, you hear me?

Galliard: The Gibbous Moon, The Moon Dancer

  The Galliard, beloved of the nigh-full moon, is j oy incarnate in his songs, stories and poetry. The beauty of Luna's gibbous face inspires him to great deeds on the battlefield as well as around the moot fires. He keeps the traditions of the werewolves perpetually alive through lore carried from generation to generation. A Galliard can rouse the pack from self-pity and suffering when their claws are needed for battle; he can cause even the stodgiest Philodox to weep her heart's last tears just as easily, should the occasion call for it. The entertainment of the Galliard takes many forms. He might be a dancer, a storyteller, a musician or a bit of everything rolled into one. When peace turns to war, the Moon Dancer may well lead the pack. And when tranquility comes again, he'll sing laments for the fallen and epic sagas for the brave survivors who still walk Gaia's sacred places.
  A Galliard's role is a tricky one. He must be the lorekeeper of his pack, well-versed in Garou history and able to teach others to learn from past mistakes. He is also the one who recounts his packmates' deeds of bravery, wisdom and honor at moots, ensuring that they are properly honored for their efforts. In many cases, the Galliard is also the one who negotiates with mortals and others, just as the Theurge bargains with spirits and the Philodox reasons with other Garou. The talented Galliard has a fine memory, a glib tongue and a brave spirit; his job isn't easy by any measure, and he needs all the talent he can muster.
  Initial Rage: 4
  Beginning Gifts: Beast Speech, Call of the Wyld, Mindspeak
  Stereotype: Galliards are all the passion of the werewolves rolled up into one feisty and creative package. They're completely unrestrained in their various moods, and they're damn hot-tempered to boot. Moon Dancers born under Luna's waning face have dark, consuming passions; they relate tales of doom, war and sacrifice. The waxing-moon Galliards, by contrast, are almost giddy in their revels, full of songs of wonder, conquest and joy. In the pack, the Moon Dancer keeps everyone's spirits up, even in times of terrible hardship. Without the Galliard's song, many are the werewolves who'd have given up, even in sight of victory.
  Quote: Surely I've regaled you with the story of Gunnar Draugrbane, the fiercest warrior ever to sail the sea. No? Then share my mead and stoke the fire! The night is young, and I feel a great inspiration coming to me from Fenris himself.

Ahroun: The Full Moon, The Warrior

  The Warrior basks in the full glow of Luna, the silver light illuminating his all-consuming Rage. He doesn't hesitate to strike fatal blows; rather, he often doesn't know when to stop his killing. All werewolves are fighters, but the Ahroun is the most destructive and vicious of all Gaia's children. Even the young among this auspice are fearsome to see. The old ones are few, perhaps because the Ahroun don't fear death in service to Gaia, and those elders who do live are likely among the greatest werewolves of legend. The Full Moon knows no cowardice, only histhirst for battle. Like the Galliard, the Ahroun is an inspiration to his people, but for tactical acumen, physical prowess and might rather than pretty words. When peace falters, he takes the reins of command as is his due, being the first to lead his pack into the fray and the last to fall should they meet defeat.
  The Ahroun's role in the pack is simple — he must be the consummate warrior, able to physically defend his weaker packmates as well as provide the right tactic for any circumstance. As much general as berserker, the Ahroun is the very definition of Gaia's champion.
  Initial Rage: 5
  Beginning Gifts: Falling Touch, Inspiration, Razor Claws
  Stereotype: The term "hell on wheels" doesn't begin to describe the raw strength and courage of the Warrior. A Full Moon werewolf is on the edge constantly, seething with Rage, spoiling for a fight at every turn. The waxing-moon Ahroun is almost a fanatic about proving himself, while the Warrior of the waning moon seeks to assert his dominance over others. They're all damn ornery and hard to get along with, but any werewolf is glad to have one around in the thick of a fight... assuming they're on the same side.
Quote: Ξut of my way, peacemaker! The only thing these honorless scum will understand is my claws sinking into their throats and the warmth of their blood washing us both in its heat as I send them back to the hells they came from! Move aside, or you too may feel my teeth chewing up σour heart!

Tribes

  If breed determines a werewolf's blood and auspice determines his destined role, then tribe can be said to determine his family. A tribe is more than a simple ethnic or idealistic classification — it is a social unit of werewolves bound together by blood, ideals and spirit. Tribal affiliation brings with it many responsibilities and even unasked-for rivalries — but it also offers a kinship of purpose.
  A werewolf's tribe is not a matter of genetics — it is a societal bond made stronger by the patronage of a powerful totem and often by blood ties. A werewolf usually joins the tribe of his ancestors, although sometimes that isn't an option — a Silver Fang born to a less than purebred bloodline may have to seek acceptance among the Glass Walkers, or a bitter lupus can reject his Children of Gaia ancestors to join the Red Talons. When a cub undergoes the Rite of Passage, the totem of the tribe initiating him chooses whether to accept him or not — if the tribal totem approves, then the cub is part of the tribe, finally a full-fledged Garou.
  It's said that the Garou Nation wasn't always divided into tribes — that the controversy of the Impergium split the One Tribe into sixteen. Over the millennia, the tribes have dwindled; one has fallen to the Wyrm, two are dead and the fourth has left the Nation. Still, the twelve tribes that remain are tightly knit groups, dedicated to waging the war of Apocalypse until their last breath, for the sake of generations yet to come. The tribes do their best to maintain their tribal heritage, but they are forced to cooperate even more closely with one another in these trying times — or else there will be no heritage and no generations to give it to, only desolation and extinction.

Black Furies

  The Black Furies practice feminism with a vengeance. According to legend, Luna first gathered this cult of warrior women in Ancient Greece. Incarnate as Artemis the Huntress, the goddess appointed she-wolves as the defenders of the Wyld. Since then, the tribe's followers have inspired legends of female heroes. Elders claim that the tribe has been responsible for warrior Amazons, vengeful Maenads, Lysistrata's political revolt, Queen Bodacea's military prowess and even the Norse Valkyries. The tribe accepts only women into its ranks, often recruiting werewolf cubs infuriated by the chauvinism or sexism of other tribes. Their version of gender bias is often called hypocritical, but it is based on a culture that has developed for thousands of years. For most Furies, their driving belief is simply that women are worthy of respect and reverence.
  Throughout history, rumor had it that Black Furies birth exclusively to female offspring. In truth, some Furies ceremoniously killed their male children; the rest gave their cubs away. The only exceptions were the metis; for reasons unknown, the Furies have several metis among their ranks. These days, though, the Furies give away male cubs to be raised by other werewolves, but in return, they demand the right to recruit cubs raised by other tribes. The Furies have forced their rivals to treat female cubs with respect, not by intimidation or insults, but by offering an alternative. Contrary to stereotype, they do not demand that their cubs "hate all men." Instead, they give women a chance to voice their beliefs openly... and act on them.
  No two Furies interpret the tribe's philosophies in quite the same way, but a few cultural standards are constant. The Furies are known for their mystical wisdom, fierce pride and political fervor. Honor is their most prized virtue; if a Black Fury gives her word, she'll go through hell to keep it. The tribe's Gifts and spirit allies demonstrate a primal connection to the Wyld, and they are often summoned up to defend the natural places of the world. Fury protectorates are among the most beautiful and sacred places in creation. In fact, many Furies see themselves as aspects of the Goddess herself, since they share a deeper bond with Gaia than any ordinary man.
  In return for these gifts from the Gaian Goddess, each Fury also has obligations to the tribe as a whole. First and foremost, they must attended private tribal moots regularly, at which wise women lead complex and beautiful rites. Kuklochoros are informal moots where human women are invited to attend, often to learn the ways of the Goddess. During the Burning Times of the Renaissance, many such gatherings were mistaken for witches' sabbats. Ulaka magelis are for Black Furies alone, for only they have the strength and stamina to endure the lengthy and deeply emotional rituals involved. The tribe undeniably has its own version of discrimination, but this practice is often necessary to explore their deepest tribal mysteries and keeping them secret from the patriarchal societies surrounding them.
  In Greek myth, Bellerophon, a hero whose mastery of animals allowed him to conquer a mythical beast and travel throughout the world, tamed Pegasus. In the Gaian version of this myth, Pegasus — the Furies' totem — gained a great hatred for the man who had mastered her. Furies retell this legend in their own image, using it as an example of man's need to rein in nature and exploit mystical power. Of course, the tribe reveres other totems as well, from Owl and Panther to the Muses and Medusae.
  Tribalists who share similar beliefs gather in camps called kuldos or "circles." Black Furies who have allied themselves with werewolves from other tribes may still act on behalf of a kuklos periodically, often recruiting other members of their pack to help them out. Each circle acts with a high degree of autonomy, although all must eventually report to the Inner and Outer Calyxes, the high councils of the tribe. The elders of the Outer Calyx are well known, as they are chosen with a great deal of pomp and ceremony. The Inner Calyx keeps its leaders and activities secret, much to the annoyance of the tribe's cubs and cliath.
  The Furies also possess treasures and fetishes, which they see as only fit for members of their tribe. When these possessions fall into the wrong hands, women warriors rush out to retrieve them. Such extreme activities account for many stories of vengeful and misanthropic Furies. However, despite the preconceived notions of other werewolves, not all Furies are radical in their beliefs. A few camps are particularly harsh in their attitudes toward men, but these camps often form their own packs composed entirely of their own followers. Many Furies run with packs that accept other tribes; unfortunately, they sometimes find themselves at odds with the most extreme and intolerant elders of their own culture.
  The battle lines between cliath and elders are clear. While many of the oldest Furies are quite set in their beliefs, young cubs entertain very revolutionary concepts of gender, warfare and Garou society. Not every Black Fury believes in "stomping man's face firmly into the mud," but all members of the tribe are known for their tendency to speak their minds, directly and forcefully, no matter how unpopular or dangerous their ideas may be. In doing so, they risk alienating others within their own tribe and invoking the wrath of the tribal elders. While a "woman who runs with the wolves" may choose to ally herself with anyone she pleases, the elders other tribe still encourage her to take up Gaian causes shared by her sisters. Thus, the struggle between the old and young continues. In her name, the Furies will avenge any crime against women, insult toward the Goddess or defilement of her creation.
  Appearance: Although the tribe originated in Ancient Greece, the Furies have since spread throughout the world, adapting to (and changing) a wide array of cultures. In Crinos, Hispo and Lupus forms, their fur is unusually dark, often with white, gray or silver highlights. By ancient law, the only males among the tribe are the metis sons of other Furies. Ancient Greek art depicts homid Furies as graceful, lithe warriors, but 21st century Furies resent being portrayed under any one stereotype.
  There is no universal standard of beauty or grace within the tribe, just as there is no one approach to feminism. Despite endless debates over politics and practice, no other group of werewolves can gather together urban punks, modem Amazons, feminist intellectuals and aging grande dames so effectively.
  Kinfolk: Most Furies appoint themselves as the protectors of women, taking crimes against their gender with deadly gravity. Female Kinfolk often find themselves in hostile or dangerous lives before they're discovered (and sometimes rescued) by their Garou relations. Male Kinfolk are numerous, as they are essential to the tribe's survival. Their contact with the tribe is usually mundane, and relations are usually held outside sept grounds. Male Fury Kin are most often set to work cultivating influence in the human world, and some are treated as little more than breeding stock. Nonetheless. while many Furies demonstrate open impatience with men in general, this impatience does not preclude them from developing deep and soulful ties with individual males, some of which last throughout their entire lives.
  Territory: Throughout most of the tribe's history, the Furies have been exceedingly reclusive. They consider it their religious duty to protect the last places sacred to the Wyld. As the Final Days approach, however, they have fewer places left to hide. Mystical wards once protected tribal lands from intrusion, but such barriers have been fading steadily. Warrior women still defend sacred groves and islands staunchly, but an increasing number of Furies are migrating to human cities, drawn to political action, protest and resistance. If their hidden glens and groves have been seized, then perhaps it's time to take the battle to the front lines. The time for hiding is over.
  Tribal Totem: Pegasus
  Initial Willpower: 3
  Background Restrictions: None. You got a problem with that?
  Beginning Gifts: Breath of the Wyld, Heightened Senses, Sense Wyrm
  Quote: The testosterone's getting a little thick around here. I say we let the men keep arguing for a few more hours and set off on our own. Let them keep posturing at the moot. We've got woman's work to do....

Stereotypes

  Flight-of'-Eagles, a Black Fury Ahroun, sizes up her rivals:
  Bone Gnawers: They're pitiable creatures, but they're also useful to anyone who offers them sympathy... or free food. Just remember to stand upwind from them.
  Children of Gaia: I admire anyone who speaks so boldly for what she believes in, especially a cause as admirable as peace.
  Fianna: Passionate, artistic and positively pagan in their celebrations — what's not to like? Then again, getting hit on at their parties does get old....
  Get of Fenris: Their egos are as bloated as their muscles. If a Get talks too much, the only way to shut him up is to kick his ass.
  Glass Walkers: It's good to have contacts in the big city, so most of them are worth knowing. The cities are bad enough without their help.
  Red Talons: Best leave them to the wilderness. Their hatred of the human race is offensive, to say the least. Let's just say I don't have much patience for race-hatred, okay?
  Shadow Lords: Devious, treacherous, manipulative — you've heard all this before, haven't you? Despite all that, a Lord can give you great insights into your enemies' schemes... and maybe betray what you're thinking to them, if you're not careful.
  Silent Striders: Good traveling companions. Of all the other tribes, they're the best allies to have when you're on the move, whether that's in the depths of the Umbra or the heart of the wilderness.
  Silver Fangs: Perhaps they're a bit vain about their past, but every so often, one rises to the occasion and proves he's a hero. Don't count them out just yet.
  Uktena: Don't get me wrong. I don't mind having an Uktena tell me what to expect from the Wyrm's minions. I'd just feel safer if I knew how he found out....
  Wendigo: They deserve a damn sight better than what they've got. I feel great sorrow for all the bigotry they've faced. If only they regarded us with the same esteem....
  Stargazers: I trusted the Stargazers to watch my back. They don't think we're worthy of the same? Their loss.

Bone Gnawers

  Bone Gnawers make up the dregs of the Garou Nation. Most other tribes regard them as little more than pathetic scavengers hiding in the cities of men. Rivals insist that they're dog-paddling in the shallow end of the gene pool; after all, if their cubs were capable of joining other tribes, they would have done so by now. Many werewolves treat the tribe with contempt — or at least regard the Gnawers as a pack of comic fools — yet the tribe is also the populous one in the world. In a realm where other tribes have failed — hidden within the heart of humanity — the Bone Gnawers have prospered.
  Their patchwork pedigrees can be traced back to India and Northern Africa, but the tribe's pups can be found anywhere poverty is present. Throughout human history, they've lived on the fringes of human society, whether as peasants, serfs or commoners. Always the underdogs, their history is filled with stories of helping the "common man" triumph despite impossible odds. Bone Gnawers tell tales of their ancestors aiding Robin Hood, fighting in the American Revolution, rounding up aristos during the French Revolution and even supporting the proletariat in the Communist Revolution. Other tribes laugh these stories off, claiming that the tribe drinks too much bad hooch, but cubs and cliath listen attentively, finding the inspiration to keep fighting.
  While other tribes may threaten and intimidate to gain power among their own kind, septs dominated by Bone Gnawers are usually strongly communal or staunchly democratic. After you fall through the cracks of human society, they reason, everyone you find at the bottom should be considered equal. Despite this welcoming attitude, the tribe still maintains a few secrets and traditions away from outsiders. Others consider their totems and rituals bizarre, to say the least. Whether they're sacrificing cheap wine to the Great Trash Heap, singing Frank Sinatra songs to summon the New York City Father or leaving peanut butter for Elvis and the American Dream, Bone Gnawers revel in behavior that outsiders would consider just plain nuts. Yet, they insist that what they're doing is sacred. Everyone has a say in a Bone Gnawer sept, but some of their opinions are straight out of the ozone.
  Dirty and mangy, ill fed on a diet of leftovers and scavenged food, Gnawers are generally cynical and world-weary, but they also cultivate street smarts and a wicked wit. Just as cannily as they scavenge food and tools from dumpsters and refuse, they unearth secrets on the street. Although their appearance may be pitiful, they are as well suited to guerrilla tactics and urban warfare. Like rats, they gather in unexpected and hidden places, attack in numbers, and scurry back to safety. If others consider them madmen and fools, so much the better — surprise attacks are far more effective, anyway.
  Lofty Garou ideals have no place within the tribe, for practicality is paramount. They value freedom and hard-core survival above all else. Most have great sympathy for folks on the skids, and they often recruit down-and-out humans (and other desperate supernatural creatures) as allies. Tribal elders, addressed respectfully as "mothers" and "fathers," watch carefully over the extended families that result. Along the way, they develop a fierce hatred for humans who exploit others, whether through greed or callous apathy. Therefore, generosity is an important measure of status within the tribe.
  While most werewolves tend to think reflexively of the Gnawers as an urban tribe, some of their camps and Kin prefer rural septs. The Hillfolk live very simply in the Appalachians and throughout the rural South, following an old-fashioned way of life as "sons of the soil" (what others would call "hillbillies"). A more infamous camp, the Man-Eaters, keep their affiliations well-hidden, for cannibalism is forbidden by both the Litany and human law. Some hunt in the most decadent and decayed realms of major cities, but most prefer to retreat to the wild, emerging to hunt only when absolutely necessary.
  The tribe has a reputation for being very... cosmopolitan... because of its talent for urban survival. Only the Glass Walkers feel as comfortable in cities, and then only because they are able to afford the very best human luxuries. Gnawers are masters of scrounging Stuff, Loot, Junk and many other varieties of trash that others would consider worthless. Many of their rites and Gifts allow them to survive in urban hellholes, even if it's on a diet of cardboard and dry macaroni. They are masters of begging and groveling, both in human and Garou society. Spare change can fund a Bone Gnawer feast, and every dumpster overflows with bounty... as long as you know how to use the trash festering inside it. Long after the other werewolves have been destroyed by the Apocalypse, the Bone Gnawers intend to be the last ones standing.
  Appearance: Bone Gnawers wander the streets of mankind's major cities passing themselves off as drifters, blue-collar types and homeless drop-outs. Even in Homid form, they often appear mangy, scrawny, starving and feral. Using this subterfuge, they patrol the streets. In Lupus form, their coats are a mishmash of clashing colors, stains and smells. Some try to pass themselves off as stray dogs or lost mutts, but any human can sense a Bone Gnawer's muted rage and pain instinctively. Although some have bred with stray dogs to create strange hybrids, a desperate Gnawer can't pass himself off as anything other than a feral and dangerous animal that's more wolf than dog. Better call Animal Control, just to be sure.
  Kinfolk: Gnawers often congregate in urban packs for their own protection, adopting runaways, street kids, drifters and the homeless into their streetwise gangs. Some of these allies and contacts are Kinfolk; others are just victims in desperate need of protection. Kin can be found among any race or nationality in the world, but most such lost souls come from squalid, or at least struggling, backgrounds.
  Territory: No other tribe knows about life on the street as well as these mutts do. While Glass Walkers lay claim to some of the most valuable real estate in the city, the Bone Gnawers stalk through some of the worst. Condemned or abandoned buildings, junkyards and landfills, dark alleyways and decaying slums are all common hunting grounds. Not all of their haunts are hellish, however. As the most democratic and egalitarian of the tribes, Bone Gnawers also protect the parts of a city established for the benefit of the average citizen. Honorable Garou defend public libraries, museums, playgrounds, city parks, homeless shelters and other places that welcome the (usually unwashed) masses.
  Tribal Totem: Rat
  Initial Willpower: 4
  Background Restrictions: Bone Gnawers may not buy Ancestors, Pure Breed or Resources. Such good fortune typically falls to wolves from other tribes.
  Beginning Gifts: Cooking, Resist Toxin, Tagalong
  Quote: Hey, you! Stop pissin' on my damn box! What do you think this is, a men's room! This here's my home, and 'f you don't zip it and run right now, I'm gonna have to bite that thing off. You hear me? I BITE!

Stereotypes

  Piss-in-the-Wind, a Bone Gnawer Ragabash, trades what he knows for a warm meal:
  Black Furies: What cool chicks! They prove what I've known all along: Girls kick ass! Tell 'em how cool they are. That way, they'll stand in front of you when a fight's about to start.
  Children of Gaia: Dm, yeah, I'm all for peace. Especially if it means that a sept's going to prosper. After all, that means more food for everyone. Then again, the Bone Gnawers are still the last line of defense, so there's no way we could ever become complete pacifists.
  Fianna: Hey! I'll trade you what's in my bottle for what's in yours!
  Get of Fenris: See that Get? Man, the guy who stuck the stick so far up his ass must have been some warrior. They're so full of themselves that I'm glad they'll die to protect us. I know that's harsh, but I'm sick of 'em kicking us around.
  Glass Walkers: You gotta get one of these guys in your pack. They've got enough cash to pay for everything you need. Ask 'em to pick up the check in restaurants. They love that.
  Red Talons: I don't know how much I trust them. I mean, without all the people in the world, what would happen to all the cities?
  Shadow Lords: Ugh. Creep, creep, snoop, snoop. And they still don't pick up the word on the street as well as we do. They'll try to use you for whatever they can get, so make sure you don't sell yourself short.
  Silent Striders: Striders sometimes help me scrounge up stuff when I'm traveling. Unfortunately, some of them like to "sacrifice" little critters to Owl. If one of them touches my rat friends, I'm gonna hafta kick his ass.
  Silver Fangs: Oh, yes, sir, Mr. Silver Fang, sir. You go ahead and stand up in front of the whole pack where everyone can see you. You want me to help paint that target on your forehead?
  Uktena: It's a pity what happened to their kin. It's almost as bad as what happened to ours.
  Wendigo: Hey! Who turned down the heat again? It's freezing in here!
  Stargazers: Yeah, yeah. Door, ass, way out, all that.

Children of Gaia

  In ancient times, when the werewolves culled humans and warred against each other, disaffected members of the tribes rose together as one, and called themselves the Children of Gaia. They pled for peace and an end to the Impergium. With a martyr's will they pled it, and enough heard their message that the tribes were joined... joined enough to end the killing, at any rate. Thus the Children were born and forged, the only tribe born in a cry for peace.
  Today, the Children travel from sept to sept, pack to pack, mediating disputes and trying to show the Garou that their common purpose — defending Gaia — is far too important to lose sight of in constant skirmishes over differences. Accord, the Children claim, is one of the best weapons they have for fighting their true enemies. To the Children, Gaia is a loving Mother, and the Wyrm's poison simply stems from an absence other love. When boiled down to those basic terms, they insist, the "complexities" of the tribes' disagreements sort out pretty quickly.
  While their reputation as peacemakers does earn some (grudging) respect, the Children also endure a fair bit of derision over their methods. Some call them soft in the head for wasting their time; others scoff at the notion of pacifists in a warrior society. But the Children of Gaia are hardly nonconfrontational. When roused, a Child's Rage can be terrible, sometimes more so because it's been pent up for a long time. And the tribe understands that werewolves will often feel the need to "pop claws and go to town." Unfortunately, however, violence is a means that too easily becomes an end (as the Children often say with a glance toward the Get of Fenris). When two Garou fight, one may likely die, and the survivor will certainly he weaker for the struggle. The only winner is the Wyrm. When a werewolf slays a normal, untainted human for being in the wrong place, the human's loved ones suffer. And suffering is a state that benefits only the Wyrm.
  While other tribes are shrinking steadily, the Children of Gaia are holding on surprisingly tenaciously. If they're not growing, they are at least shrinking at a shorter rate. The main reason is that the tribe takes in any Garou who asks. They are rare among tribes in that they are more than tolerant or even kind to metis — they actually treat them as equals. Therefore, many metis seek them out to find acceptance. Also, many male Garou born to the Black Furies find homes among Gaia's Children. Furthermore, tribe members are always on the lookout for lost cubs, and if a cub doesn't obviously belong to a particular tribe, the Children will make a home for it gladly.
  Children of Gaia form loose packs and even looser septs. They do not observe rank and hierarchy as strictly as do other tribes, and while they are by no means purely democratic, leaders try to reach a consensus among involved sept members. Each sept has two elders who take the lead in mediating disputes. They are known as the Voice of the Goddess (always female) and the Arm of the Goddess (always male).
  As a tribe, they are the most active in human environmental organizations by far. Through a vast network of students, teachers, lobbyists and other Kinfolk activists, they have made strides in changing attitudes and pushing eco-friendly legislation that otherwise would never see beyond a congressman's "thank you for your interest" form letter. Their efforts to improve the situation of Native Americans has helped raise their status in the eyes of the Uktena and Wendigo, although many still grumble, "Too little, too late."
  Although few outside the tribe know it, the Children are divided as to how much education is necessary or even allowable. One faction believes that certain non-Kinfolk humans would not only be ready to know the truth about Gaia and the werewolves, but — galvanized by the knowledge — they would also be indispensable allies. This faction has already recruited a few select individuals, but they would see it become a more widespread practice. The others are wary, realizing the price of letting the information fall into the wrong hands. They further realize that the rest of the Garou Nation would likely persecute them for parting the Veil (and thus breaching the Litany). A small but increasing minority feels that it's too late for such measures anyway. The Apocalypse is upon them, they reason, and there is no time for anything except a final gathering of forces. These hard-line Children feel that the other tribes should "put up or shut up." They should close ranks beside them or be cut loose to fare as best they may. A final faction holds that, while ending the Impergium was the right thing to do, the Garou should have found another way to hinder the Weaver's expansion. Choosing the lesser of two evils, they say, is still choosing an evil.
  Sadly, these divisions demonstrate that the Children are having a harder time than ever turning the other cheek. They've been striving to promote peace for millennia, only to find that humans and werewolves alike seem to have an inborn need for war. For all the progress that the tribe has made, there's still so much to be done and so little time to do it. It's a small wonder that a tone of bitterness has crept into the Children's howls for accord.
  Appearance: Homid Children of Gaia come from all races and cultures. Lupus Children are strong and clean of limb, with a dappling of white on their gray and brown coats. While Lupus forms of other tribes radiate danger or feral coldness, Children give off an aura of calm, quiet grace that can sometimes dispel fear as well as instill it.
  Kinfolk: The Children of Gaia's Kinfolk come from any nationality. They tend to be unusually aware of and active in environmental and social' issues, which creates a network of contacts for their Garou relatives.
  Territory: The Children of Gaia hailed from the cultures of the Fertile Crescent and Phoenicia originally, but the tribe has traveled for millennia to where it is needed most. These days, most Children see North America as a fine home base, but they are scattered across the world as needs be.
  Tribal Totem: Unicorn
  Initial Willpower: 4
  Background Restrictions: No restrictions
  Beginning Gifts: Mercy, Mother's Touch, Resist Pain
  Quote: Of course I'm teaching humans to respect nature instead of fear it. We destroy what we fear. That's why you kill humans, isn't it?

Stereotypes

  Peter Falling-Light, Child of Gaia Theurge, voices his concerns:
  Black Furies: Like us, the Furies see the need for healing in this world. The difference is, they would deny that mercy to a great many who need it.
  Bone Gnawers: They are of our blood; we can't afford to make outcasts of our family.
  Fianna: The biggest hearts still can't contain the mixture of joy and sorrow they feel. I call many of them friend.
  Get of Fenris: It is good to take pride in doing something you love and doing it well... unless that something is mindlessly rending anything that wanders within arm's length.
  Glass Walkers: They have adapted to life in the Weaver's domain, but can they survive outside their fish tanks now?
  Red Talons: I like their honesty. Don't care too much for their bitterness, though.
  Shadow Lords: The Garou are here to help others, except for the Shadow Lords, who are most motivated to help themselves.
  Silent Striders: I envy their freedom sometimes, but "goodbye" is a word too familiar to their lips.
  Silver Fangs: A strong and noble leader would surely bind the tribes together. Is that so blasted much to ask!?
  Uktena: There is nothing we can do to take back what the invading tribes did to them, but it's up to us to heal the scars.
  Wendigo: We try to help them, but their pride gets in the way. Their hearts burn with rage, but their souls are bitter cold.
  Stargazers: A deep loss. They helped us end the Impergium; we need their wisdom now more than ever.

Fianna

  It's said that the first Galliard was a Fianna. The more humble of this tribe shake their heads and say, "No, not the first one, just the best one." Hailing from Western Europe and the British Isles in particular, the Fianna are a tribe that indulges in its passions for music, drink, love and fighting (not necessarily in that order). The tribe also includes the finest lorekeepers and bards of the Garou, for they learn the tales of other tribes as well as their own. None can match the memory of a Fianna master bard, who can recite a clan generation by generation easily back thousands of years. Garou from other tribes come to the Fianna to learn the old stories of heroes and battles, lists of lineages and tales of tragedy. Members of Stag's tribe are often called to be judges, for their memories are long and they are familiar with Litany precedent as few others are.
  Fianna have quite a reputation for enjoying themselves to excess. Music, dancing, drinking, love and general merriment are more than simple pastimes. Stag's tribe is very serious about the fine art of the good time. For this reason more than any other, the Fianna are taken less than seriously by other Garou.
  Fianna tend to be extroverts who enjoy parties and gatherings of all kinds. They can also be deeply moody; Harano strikes the Fianna more often than any other tribe save the Silver Fangs. No, the Fianna never do anything by halves! Their mercurial personalities, coupled with their Creativity, are often linked to their ancestral ties with the fae folk. In fact, many Garou (including the Fianna themselves) suspect that a touch of faerie blood runs through Fianna veins. While not every tribe member can carry a tune, most members of Stag's tribe are encouraged to be creative. It's the rare Theurge that doesn't embellish a fetish with curling designs representing the spirit housed within, and many Ahroun can forge weapons that are works of art as well as death-dealers. Other tribes have painters, dancers, writers and musicians, but the Fianna have them in spades.
  In addition to being sociable, the Fianna are the most likely of all werewolves to fall in love, either with humans or (all too frequently) other Garou. Such romances end in tragedy far more often than not, supplying grist for ballads and stories to fill a thousand heart-breaking nights. Should an illicit union bear tainted fruit, have nothing but pity for the offspring. Fianna are hard on their metis, for it's traditional wisdom that a twisted body mirrors a twisted soul. Metis never hold positions of power within the tribe — custom forbids it. It's a sad irony that abusive treatment sometimes drives the metis to the Wyrm, which only proves the metis' taint in the eyes of the more hard-line elders.
  Despite their rowdy reputation, it would be a bad idea to think of the Fianna as merely drunken sots who can spout stories. Those who have thought so have learned their lesson quickly. The joy of battle is not the least of their joys! Time and again their ferocity has surprised the Get of Fenris or other interlopers who expected that lovers couldn't be fighters. Some say that the world is better for the drinking and dancing; without an outlet for that passionate energy, the Fianna would probably be more battle-mad than the Get!
  Now, a tribal divide is opening — the age-old schism between old and new. Many Fianna and their activist Kinfolk are using the influx of European Union capital and environmentally friendly parties to repair some of the damage done by chemical dumps and general land wasting across the British Isles as well as the rest of Europe. The other faction sees that the so-called Celtic Tiger economic boom has created a flurry of unrestricted growth and development. "What's the use of cleaning the Wyrm-taint from a forest if the trees are leveled and an apartment complex covers the land?" they ask. This quandary is being noticed among the other tribes these days, but it is especially painful for the traditionalists of the Fianna. If one uses the tools of the Weaver to fight the Wyrm, what can he use to fight the Weaver?
  Appearance: In wolf form, the Fianna are quite striking. They are huge like dire wolves (with the occasional resemblance to wolfhounds), with shining red or black fur. They often use Gifts to make their eyes glow green. Their howls are heartbreakingly beautiful, with an ethereal quality no other tribe can match.
  Their appearance in Homid form often reflects their Celtic heritage. Most are descended from the people of the British Isles or Western Europe, and Fianna can be found almost anywhere English is spoken. Fianna can be fair-skinned or swarthy; they can be blond, dark-haired or redheads.
  Kinfolk: Their Kinfolk descend from the finest Celtic stock, many of whom immigrated throughout the world. Fianna are close to their Kinfolk and fiercely protective, a fact that has led to no few skirmishes. Most of their wolf Kinfolk live in North America, but a few treasured members roam hidden on protected European estates and parks.
  Territory: In the old times, Fianna took wide moors, forests and peat bogs as their homes. As they spread across the world, the found much different locales to settle. Although they always prefer places that remind them of "the old country," they can be found nearly anywhere their Kinfolk have settled. Outside the British Isles, they are most common in Australia and New Zealand, Canada and of course the United States (particularly Appalachia).
  Tribal Totem: Stag
  Initial Willpower: 3
  Background Restrictions: No restrictions.
  Beginning Gifts: Faerie Light, Persuasion, Resist Toxin
  Quote: There's three things that'll bring you praise at the moot, lad: a well-spun tale, a ready wit and a clear voice. <sigh> If you'll just work on the first two, you might not make a fool of yourself, lad.

Stereotypes

  Morgan the Unruly, Fianna Ragabash, shares the gossip:
  Black Furies: Re careful around these ladies; they can't take a joke.
  Bone Gnawers: They're looked down on, but show 'em a little kindness and they'll be your friend for life. Can't ever have too many friends.
  Children of Gaia: A smile will go a long way, and these folks always have one for you. They'll fight with the best of them; it just takes longer to piss them off.
  Get of Fenris: They're battle-mad. They'd attack a tree if you wrote "Wyrm" on the side... assuming they can read.
  Glass Walkers: If you need to find your way around a city, a Glass Walker will give you a hand. But don't expect a free lunch.
  Red Talons: Better than the Get, because they're pickier. They're discriminating psychopaths.
  Shadow Lords: Arrogant bastards. Don't shake one's hand, there's likely poison in his ring.
  Silent Striders: Strange lot, and a little spooky. But invite one to your fire and you're in for a night of many tales.
  Silver Fangs: Respectable, traditionalists to a fault, but a bit stiff and overbearing sometimes. Still, one's king is one's king.
  Uktena: Pretty unfriendly, unless they think you know something they don't. Then they're only slightly unfriendly.
  Wendigo: We've got some history. We don't get on too well.
  Stargazers: Too wise for us mere mortals. They're probably happier hanging out on their mountaintops.

Get of Fenris

  Any Get worth his scars carries himself with pride, for he is the result of centuries of warrior heritage. The Get of Fenris, or Fenrir, are heroes in the truest sense of the word. They seek their fortune along a path beset by battles and awash in blood. Most commonly of Nordic, Teutonic or Saxon descent, they reflect the harsh attitudes of a brutal history. The sagas, eddas and prose poems of a thousand years ago inspire them to great acts of valor. Admittedly, werewolves from other tribes are often shocked by their violent and remorseless behavior, even toward other Garou. Few will back down from a fight, and fewer still show mercy; yet all of them are eager to demonstrate their prowess in battle. Strength is the greatest virtue among the Get. Through constant conflict, they force themselves to become stronger... or destroy themselves in the process.
  The Fenrir seem ferocious and belligerent to other tribes. Even their cubs will sacrifice their lives gladly in the neverending campaign against the Great Serpent of Darkness. While cubs with proper lineage are hounded to join the tribe, werewolves are not just born into the Get of Fenris; they must prove themselves worthy first. Most are of European stock, born of Fenrir Kinfolk, but Get septs have been known to accept heroes from other ethnic groups. The path to glory is not easy, though. The tribe's Rites of Passage are inevitably bloody and often deadly. Cubs who seek acceptance are challenged and tested continually. Even werewolves who aren't born under the full moon must prove themselves as capable warriors. Weak Get die; the strongest survive.
  To spur them on to greater glory, Fenrir Galliards called skalds recite vast epics of werewolf heroes who have fought against impossible odds. Yet in their lust for blood and glory, the Get have become blind to the darkness within themselves. Fatalism is common among their kind. A true hero does not care whether he lives or dies, as long as he destroys his foes and inspires a great epic for the Galliards to recite. As one would expect, casualties among the Fenrir are high. Even if winning a battle seems impossible, a Get of Fenris would rather die a hero than run away with his tail between his legs. Calling a Get a coward is tantamount to suicide.
  The tribe sees itself as the vanguard in the endless fight against the Wyrm. Their elitism is painfully evident. A rare few have even embraced Aryan ideals of racial supremacy, staining the honor of the tribe in the process. The rest consider themselves superior to other Garou, but largely because they have led a harsh life with high ideals. They are also undeniably chauvinist, sneering at "civil rights" and "empowerment." The strong command the weak who must take their place among cowards and failed heroes.
  Over the last century, the tribe has been forced to modify its chauvinistic attitudes. Other tribes consider them sexist and crude, but women have always had a place in Get culture. Throughout the 20th century, female Fenrir have redefined many of the traditional roles for women in the tribe. As part of their culture, they have fought to prove that they are as heroic as their male rivals, and despite having to work several times as hard, they have proven themselves worthy. Sometimes an elder looks askance at a woman who insists on being treated as an equal, but he usually changes his mind once he's has had his ears pinned back. Female Get are strong-willed enough to hold their own against the average Black Fury. Unfortunately, they are also stubborn enough to insist on proving their superiority. Epic duels result.
  When the Get decide to gather in numbers, bone-cracking tourneys and epic tests of prowess are certain to follow. Tribal moots are always held beneath the full moon, and they are always militaristic. Ahroun dominate these gatherings, since leaders must always fight for their positions of authority. All who attend must run a deadly gauntlet to participate in the tribe's sacred rites. The gauntlet is soon followed by ritual bloodletting, live rune carving and torture of captured enemies. Mystical rites involve lengthy combat, sometimes with spirits who must be forced into submission by powerful Theurges.
  The Fenrir see life as a long, hard struggle; for them, peace is an impossible dream. Through this philosophy, they gain a deep understanding of their inner Beasts, feral instincts and boundless rage. As the Final Days approach, true heroes have a chance to wield these weapons and earn a place in Valhalla. They believe that a great battlefield has already been readied for them in the Umbra: Vigrithr, the realm where the final battle of the Apocalypse will be fought. Fimbulwinter, the "final winter" that will end the age of man, is here. The armies of evil are amassing to destroy the Garou in numbers heretofore unseen. The Get of Fenris have been readying themselves for generations. If Ragnarok is at hand, they will greet it with sharpened claws and readied blades.
  Appearance: The Get are a very martial tribe. Most are intensely muscular, and they bear their scars with pride. Their lupine forms resemble the huge gray wolves of the North, belligerent beasts with broad shoulders and huge, savage jaws. Many have dark patches in their fur, although some supremacists mock any Get who does not have a pure coat. Many look Scandinavian, Germanic or Anglo-Saxon in Homid forms, but modern Fenrir come from any culture that produces sufficiently strong warriors. Nearly all Get cultivate impressive scars and tattoos. Some even brand their fur or carve runes ceremoniously into their flesh.
  Kinfolk: The Get of Fenris first stalked their tribal homelands in Northern Europe, but they have traveled freely throughout many lands like their Viking ancestors. Most favor rural areas near their Kinfolk, often under conditions adverse enough to "cull the weak" from their human herds.
  Territory: Any sacred site that isn't defended adequately may find itself under attack from Fenrir "protectors." They are infamous for assaulting other tribal caerns to allegedly secure them. Like the Wendigo, they seem to thrive under adverse conditions, guarding caerns known for fierce storms and harsh winters. The largest protectorates are in the Black Forest of Germany and the wilderness of Scandinavia.
  Tribal Totem: Fenris
  Initial Willpower: 3
  Background Restrictions: Get cannot purchase the Contacts Background. True friends are the only friends a Fenrir wants. They may purchase Mentor, but a Get's patron will only advise, never protect. Those who cannot survive on their own deserve to die.
  Beginning Gifts: Razor Claws, Resist Pain, Visage of Fenris
  Quote: The stench of evil is strong here. I think we're outnumbered at least four to one. A pity they will be at such a disadvantage. What? Do you think we should retreat? Never! This is a time for great glory!

Stereotypes

  Fists-of-Wotan, a Get of Fenris Ahroun, reviles his rivals:
  Black Furies: Their warriors are fierce, but they should have more respect for great heroes. Perhaps we shall have to teach them a lesson again.
  Bone Gnawers: Crawling curs. I suppose every sept needs commoners. A pack should only call on them when all other options fail. Even then, their methods can bring a great hero even greater shame.
  Children of Gaia: How I tire of their insufferable prattling! Perhaps they should hide back at the sept with the Bone Gnawers. I've seen a few of their Ahroun hold their own in a fight, but I'd prefer that they actually fcili more of their foes....
  Fianna: Ah! Their lust for battle! Their spirited drinking contests! Such fine epics! We find them amusing, yet they still hold a grudge against us. I imagine it's because our ancestors beat the crap out of theirs.
  Glass Walkers: I still don't understand them. They are more men than wolves. Beware their strange ways.
  Red Talons: We would do well to ally with the Talons. Their instincts are strong, and they are fierce as Fenris himself in battle. Yet they do not see who the real enemies are. It is far too late to cull the herds of humans.
  Shadow Lords: Dealing with them is always a gamble. You may get an advantage you did not see before, or lose everything to their trickery. Trust your gut instincts when talking to them. Their seemingly honeyed words are poisoned with lies.
  Silent Striders: Run up ahead, Strider! Come back when you find something... so we can kill it for you!
  Silver Fangs: If they live up to their heritage, they are good rulers. The rest — they look handsome at our moots, but I'd rather have strong warriors standing beside me. Don't be surprised if you find you must seize power from a weak Fang for the good of the sept.
  Uktena: Their ancestors were weak enough to lose their lands, so they make dark deals and questionable pacts. Remember to watch them carefully for signs of Wyrm-taint.
  Wendigo: The Wendigo's ability to survive the harsh lands of the North proves their indomitable spirit. We shall stand at the vanguard, but they are worthy enough to come running close behind us.
  Stargazers: To leave the Nation in these times is as good as suicide. Even the strongest tribe cannot survive the Apocalypse on its own, much less the Stargazers.

Glass Walkers

  Glass Walkers defy many of the basic concepts of the Western Concordiat. Most other werewolves see human cities as cancers on the skin of Gaia, cesspools of corruption and pollution, but the Walkers are drawn to them. Most wolves prefer to commune with the Wyld in the depths of the wilderness, but the Glass Walker tribe is primarily urban. These werewolves have a deep connection to the Weaver, a cosmic force others blame for the insane excesses of human civilization. They are masters of men's tools, technophiles of the first order and intimately familiar with human society. For these reasons, Other Garou describe the Walkers as urrah, "tainted ones" who have compromised with human society and human values. Despite this reputation, the Glass Walkers understand the world of men far better than their rural brethren do.
  Like any culturally adept traveler, the tribe has changed its appearance throughout its history. Originating in Mesopotamia, the first Glass Walkers called themselves "Warders of Men." Cut off from the rural septs of the Garou, they lived in a separate world, understanding humans by living among them. Long before the Bone Gnawers took to the streets, they entrenched themselves in the wealthiest and largest cities, living as wolves in sheep's clothing. Throughout the medieval millennium, "City Warders" encouraged trade and the spread of knowledge. By the dawn of the Victorian era, they traveled along the railroads as "Iron Riders." With each telegraph wire erected and stretch of rail laid, they aided the Weaver in stretching its webs around the world. The tribe reinvents its culture repeatedly, adapting continually to the changing world around it.
  In the modern era, they've used their wealth to make homes in the tallest skyscrapers, surrounding themselves with creature comforts and assimilating modern technology thoroughly. Glass Walkers have climbed the cities' glass and steel towers to watch over mankind. Only in the last few centuries have they begun to integrate their tribe fully with the Garou Nation again, much to the chagrin of werewolves who follow vastly different traditions. Their "rules of order" are all too human, often dominated by professional work ethics, corporate philosophies and a driving reverence for the all-mighty dollar.
  Among the first to dwell in human settlements, the Walkers have long admired human adaptability and ingenuity. Their art, fashion and society all reflect the latest trends, a proclivity that raises the suspicions of their packmates and septmates. Yet they also insist that this admiration gives them a deeper communion with the Earth Mother. Evolution is a natural process, after all, and humans are definitely ahead of the curve. If the wilderness is dying, more werewolves should move to the cities. Skyscrapers are merely the trees of a more efficient forest, surrounded by concrete and asphalt that will last for generations to come. Others can try to preserve a dying past, but the Walkers exist in the here and now. Some claim that a Glass Walker's strength lies in his wealth, but the tribe considers cultural adaptability its greatest advantage. No matter what paths they follow in life, Walkers focus their resources on building the wealthiest and best-connected urban caerns. They often reclaim urban areas "for Gaia," even those that have fallen prey to urban development and modernization. After all, doing so places them in an excellent position to stalk and slay humans who profit from such exploitation. The tribe particularly prides itself on its "monkeywrenchers," saboteurs who cripple corrupt companies, especially those that fall under the sway of the Wyrm. The subsidiaries of Pentex are among the tribe's greatest enemies, closely followed by a much younger corporate rival: Developmental Neogenetics Amalgamated.
  The tribe is equally famous for its urban shamans, Glass Walker Theurges who develop extensive pacts with urban spirits and bind them into deadly technological fetishes. A seemingly innocuous floppy disk or battery can contain vast cosmic power. Unfortunately, the tribe also competes directly with other supernatural denizens of the cities. Werewolves are well aware that vampires exist, and the Glass Walkers often vie for their real estate and influence. Although not as influential as their vampiric rivals, Glass Walkers are wealthier than most other werewolves, and far more technically proficient. Having infiltrated "the system," they use the methods of the modern age to fight beside the rest of the Garou Nation.
  Appearance: Glass Walkers are known for their devotion to human fashion, even while representing a vast array of subcultures. In this tribe, wealthy street punks and corporate powerbrokers work side by side. In Lupus form (when that option is absolutely necessary), their fur is often mottled and multicolored, usually trimmed and sometimes dyed. Cubs and cliath sometimes style their hair in Crinos form, sporting a strange variety of modern coiffures. Lupus Glass Walkers are rare, so their blood is dangerously thin. Many exhibit an unusually high intelligence, or they at least conceal their rapid learning curve carefully.
  Kinfolk: The thought of a Glass Walker without easy access to email, a pager, a cell phone and other personal technology is unthinkable, or at least considered strange. Many Glass Walkers have Kinfolk they never actually see face to face, keeping their contact virtual. Others treat their relations as employees and contractors of the Garou Nation, managing them in the field directly for a wide variety of tasks. Most Kin are technophiles, or at least they seem to thrive in the industrialized world, so the other tribes seem strange and primitive to them.
  Territory: The Glass Walker tribe secures prime real estate in urban realms, places far more comfortable than the rattier places the Bone Gnawers prefer. Walkers stay close to their human contacts, whether they're in corporations, scientific institutions, underworld society or urban gangs. Then again, as one would expect, most Glass Walker resources are usually just a phone call away. Elders have a fine taste for the ritziest places in the city, although some cubs and cliath have been known to favor seedy clubs and decadent street life.
  Tribal Totem: Cockroach is an alien totem to most other Garou, but it's a perfect choice for Glass Walkers. Its children have survived for 325 million years, they can adapt to almost any environment, they are virtually impossible to exterminate fully, and they are often plentiful in urban caerns.
  Initial Willpower: 3
  Background Restrictions: Glass Walkers stopped cultivating the Pure Breed Background ages ago, and they have lost touch with their anachronistic ancestors. They also learn without the benefit of mentors. Anything an elder can teach a cub is probably obsolete, and it must be reinvented or upgraded.
  Beginning Gifts: Control Simple Machine, Diagnostics, Trick Shot
  Quote: That little magnetic keypad should be no problem. I'm more worried about the creatures they've been breeding in their computer system. I say we shift to Crinos and run our own little "anti-virus" program.

Stereotypes

  "Casual" Friday, Glass Walker Galliard, gives his associates a performance review:
  Black Furies: What's the big deal? Why are the other tribes so reluctant to respect these women? They may be tiresome to argue with, but their prowess is even greater than their pride.
  Bone Gnawers: Yes, I value the contributions they bring to our urban caerns. No, I don't intend to ever take them for granted. And yes, I'm really tired of them asking me for money....
  Children of Gaia: The Children's close ties with their Kinfolk are immensely useful. When the world has given you a few scrapes too many, you can count on them to heal your wounds and nourish your soul.
  Fianna: The best Galliards in the whole damn Concordiat. They fight like madmen and revel like gods. Just handle them with care. One wrong word can set them off....
  Get of Fenris: Why, certainly, you have the honor of striking the first blow! Just stop talking about how you're going to do it.
  Red Talons: I'm sorry, but they can't stand me and I'm tired of their snarling. If you don't like the big city, go hide in the woods.
  Shadow Lords: It always helps to have informants. Just don't depend on them too much. They rarely help out without demanding something in return... or taking it outright.
  Silent Striders: Depending on the Striders is a bit old-fashioned for my tastes. Why send a messenger when I've still got a full charge on my cell phone? Still, the farther you get from the city, the more useful they are.
  Silver Fangs: I'm sorry, did I say something about being old-fashioned? The Striders are nothing compared to these guys. Someone needs to upgrade to the 21st century. Still, I'll respect them if they respect me. Oh, wait! They don't!
  Uktena: If you need a cunning scout, someone to hold mystic rites or a fellow traveler in the spirit world, you can depend on an Uktena. I'm much more comfortable dealing with the real world, myself.
  Wendigo: Okay, let's face it. Your people were on the losing side. Your reservations are dying. Accept it and move on. By the way, I've got a friend in the casino business who can help... OKAY! OKAY! Forget I said anything! Jeez, relax!
  Stargazers: I used to be convinced they had a lot to offer, but now I'm wondering if they're suffering from planned obsolescence.

Red Talons

  The Garou culled humanity long ago, because they recognized the dangerous tendency of humans to spread across wide territories if not checked. The tribes eventually knew pity and ended the Impergium; now the cancer-like spread of humanity is beyond anything those eiders could have possibly imagined. Yet one tribe still advocates a return to the old ways — the tribe called the Red Talons. Lupus to the last member, they claim proudly that no human has ever tainted their tribe. Other tribes point to the Talons as a warning of what happens when Garou forsake one side of their being, for without humans in their bloodline they have become more bestial than the wolves themselves. Their savage howls make even homid Garou uneasy.
  The Talons follow tradition closely — not the tradition of Silver Fangs, but that of their wolf brethren. More than any other tribe, the Red Talons decide their hierarchy by strength, cunning and endurance. Pack members test each other at a sign of weakness, and the one most fit for leadership assumes the role of alpha. The alpha demands unquestioned loyalty from the pack, and he gets it. He eats first of the best portions of the kill, followed by the rest of the pack in descending order of status, yet no member of the pack goes hungry. Tribal law is clear-cut. If a crime has been committed against the Garou, the pack doesn't indulge in haggling or soul-searching — it delivers justice swiftly and moves on.
  Red Talons dwell in wilderness, away from the noise and stench of human settlements. Their territory is often "posted" with the skulls of trespassers. More than any other werewolves, Talons are at home in the wilderness, following paths others fear to tread. Even their detractors among the other tribes must admit that the Red Talons have long memories, and that they probably practice rites and keep secrets long forgotten by the rest of the Garou.
  Now, as forests are logged and caerns bulldozed, as their hunting grounds are subdivided and their Kin are poisoned and shot, the outrage of Griffin's tribe is beyond measure. The Talons' hatred of humanity is legendary; to the Garou Nation, they are living reminders of the Impergium and a constant to the species' existence. But not all Talons espouse the humans' extermination. Most believe that returning to a policy of culling would be sufficient. In fact, some humans actually live peacefully near Talon territories, if those humans are few and show the land proper respect. It is more common for a pack to make examples of any who wander too near, trusting that fear will keep the apes in the safety of their scablike cities.
  Many wonder if the Talons have been corrupted by the Wyrm, for rumors of their cruelty to humans rival tales of the evil rites of the Black Spiral Dancers. For the most part, Talons slay man, woman and child wholeheartedly, but they do so quickly. Some enjoy it, others take to the task as a duty, but wounding so the prey will suffer for hours or days isn't natural (although it may be just). However, the younger Talons have begun making elaborate rituals of their mini-lmpergium in recent years, and it worries the elders. To savor the fear of the prey is one thing, but to draw the agony out over days... that is something the apes do. A dark secret of the Talons is that more than a few consume the flesh of their victims regularly, disregarding one of the Litany's tenets. These rogues insist that the Stargazers included that provision in the Litany, and since they're gone, it doesn't matter anymore.
  Appearance: In wolf form, Talons are generally large-framed, with noticeably oversized jaws and paws. Even in Lupus, their claws are almost catlike in sharpness. Their fur fends toward ruddy brown. Perhaps the most unusual feature of the tribe is the shock of blood- or flame-red fur always present somewhere on their bodies. Talons boast that it is a badge of honor from Gaia, showing her approval for the only tribe willing to advocate putting humans back in their place. Less extreme tribes contend (quietly) that it is Gaia's mark of shame to the last adherents of the Impergium.
  In Homid form (which they rarely ever assume), Talons are crude, hairy, slouching and unkempt; they never look when they can glare. They shamble, unused to walking on two legs, and find the human's mild sensory depravation unnerving.
  Kinfolk: Red Talons guard the dwindling wolf packs across the world. Many won't even acknowledge human Kinfolk, sparking many bloody conflicts with other tribes. All wolves, Kinfolk or not, are precious to the tribe, and even a pup is worth a few human lives. To lose a wolf to starvation or disease is a reason to mourn; to lose one to hunters is an excuse for revenge.
  Territory: Red Talons dwell in the deepest wilderness, away from the taint that humans bring. Occasionally, a pack will set up its territory near civilization, but only to conduct raids against their enemies.
  Tribal Totem: Griffin
  Initial Willpower: 3
  Background Restrictions: Red Talons may not buy Allies, Contacts or Resources. Their only Kinfolk are wolves.
  Beginning Gifts: Beast Speech, Scent of Running Water, Wolf at the Door
  Quote: Why should we submit to the new Impergium where humans cull wolves?

Stereotypes

  Lynx-Killer, Red Talon Galliard, howls softly:
  Black Furies: It is not right to deny your father and love only your mother. Both are needed.
  Bone Gnawers: There will always be a lowest-ranked wolf in every pack. In the Garou Nation, it is the Bone Gnawers.
  Children of Gaia: Harmony is good. Harmony with your enemies is not. Humans are our enemies.
  Fianna: When howling, their voices are beautiful; otherwise, they babble and brawl.
  Get of Fenris: They fight like the wolverine, and they eat like wolverines too.
  Glass Walkers: They are abominations. In fighting the Wyrm, they have allowed the Weaver to take their souls!
  Shadow Lords: It is right they test the Silver Fangs, but the Shadow Lords are not fit to lead. They must use deception to cover their weakness.
  Silent Striders: There is something wrong with them. Wolves are never lone by choice.
  Silver Fangs: A pack leader must lead. They have grown fat and sluggish and mad.
  Uktena: They keep many secrets, which is not that different from lying. They dabble with the Wyrm too much.
  Wendigo: A proud tribe, more honest than most.
  Stargazers: It is well that they leave. There is nothing left of instinct in them, only thinking, thinking, thinking!

Shadow Lords

  Dominance and submission, mastery and servitude — such concepts form the basis of Shadow Lord society. To the Lords, hierarchy is everything. No other tribe is organized so rigidly, yet because their elders are masters of politics, they also have a reputation for treachery. As the rest of the world plunges into darkness, they argue, political power is the only strength holding the Garou Nation together. Leadership is the only measure of worth, so it must be attained by any means necessary. Machiavellian and manipulative, the Lords are often maligned. Bearing others' disdain and mistrust with simmering rage, they skulk back to their shadowy schemes and furtive activities. It's best to exact revenge when your rivals least expect it....
  Shadow Lord cubs regale their tribal leaders openly as proud, dignified, cunning and aloof... no doubt because they fear them so much. The tribe's elders are renowned as cunning and merciless, but they are known for arrogance and ambition just as well. Devout tribal unity, elaborate conspiracies, talented spies and leaders forged in the heat of unceasing competition have made their order an unstoppable political machine. Yet this same lust for tyrannical conquest is also their greatest weakness. If the tribe ever stops gaining power, it is often because of a struggle for dominance within its own ranks. Therefore, when an ambitious Shadow Lord seizes power, he does so quickly and decisively, destroying his rivals completely. To do any less weakens the tribe as a whole.
  The Shadow Lords first formed in what is now Eastern Europe. During the Impergium, many were tyrants of the first order; some modern Lords still long for the purity of that age. Just as many had a reputation as loyal advisors, acting as the vigilant "betas" supporting and protecting many a great alpha. Nonetheless, the Shadow Lords decided to act independently of the rest of the Garou Nation when the Impergium came to an end. While others pledge peace, the Lords waged war against rebellious human villages. They've had a reputation for deceit ever since.
  During thousands of years of subterfuge in the Balkans, the Lords have watched human tribes and nations betray and conspire against each other... and they've learned from others' mistakes. Near their most powerful caerns, the Lords found themselves continually at odds with far more sinister creatures, including conspiracies of ancient vampires. Survival depended on making and breaking alliances with various shifting factions. To this day, the Shadow Lords are the most adept at exploiting dark deals with sinister forces, including a vast array of blood-sucking freaks. Few others would dare try to understand the motivations of such insidious monsters.
  The traditions of their society are confusing to other werewolves, many of whom prefer to stay far away from Garou politics. For instance, a Shadow Lord will scheme against a weak leader but still respect a strong one. Sept leaders know that a Shadow Lord advisor can do a masterful job of uncovering conspiracy and dissent among their followers, but only as long as the advisor approves of the sept leader's policies. Many alphas prefer to keep the Lords where they can see them, and some root out insurrection merely by noticing which "allies" a Shadow Lord speaks to the most.
  Among the Shadow Lords, tyrannical alphas hold on to power and privilege through tenacity, deception and continual subterfuge. Because they are so enthralled by the politics of the Garou Nation, they consider themselves guardians of the Litany, or at least the "correct" interpretation of it. Ragabash claim that arguing with a Shadow Lord Philodox is as futile as trying to freeze a Wendigo, as reckless as calling a Fenrir a coward and as pointless as trying to rob a Bone Gnawer.
  Any Shadow Lord respects power and condemns weakness, so nearly all of them despise the Silver Fangs, whom they consider weak and decrepit relics of the past. Their greatest goal is to usurp power from the Fangs. After doing so, dominating the Garou Nation and eventually the human race cannot be far behind. Because they rule through fear and intimidation, no true Shadow Lord would show sympathy or tolerance for the weak. As such, they are commonly sought by agents of the Wyrm. A Shadow Lord can make an amazing ascent to power, but he is also capable of a maddening fall from grace soon thereafter if he is not careful.
  Appearance: Shadow Lords cultivate an intimidating appearance, just as they develop a respect for fear. The archetypal Lord is dark and brooding, with a commanding bearing. Some are genial and openly charismatic, even empathetic, while others cringe and skulk as only a consummate caern advisor can. In Lupus form, Lords are large and stocky, often resembling the lupine version of massive pit bulls; they usually have coats as dark as their name would imply. Many homids are eager to shift to Lupus on the bleakest and rainiest days of the year.
  Kinfolk: The oldest Kinfolk families are of Eastern European stock, but the tribe has built up "flocks" of breeding stock in other parts of the world. Intelligence is a highly prized trait. Kinfolk who breed with Shadow Lords usually do so after long years of tempestuous and dysfunctional romance. Female Shadow Lords are sometimes drawn away from the flock toward men with power. A ruthless businessman, a brilliant crime lord or even a military dictator may find himself overpowered by a stalking suitor. Kinfolk don't receive much coddling, however. Weaklings and victims don't deserve to breed.
  Territory: Bleak landscapes with dark, gloomy beauty appeal to the tribe. The lands surrounding their caerns would make for fine scenery in classic horror films. Craggy mountains, dark forests and roiling mists are perfect for a Shadow Lord's rituals and meditations. Because of regular worship to Grandfather Thunder, storms are common around caerns dominated by Shadow Lords.
  Tribal Totem: Grandfather Thunder is worshipped by cults of reverent Shadow Lords, some of whom see him as quite removed from Mother Gaia.
  Initial Willpower: 3
  Background Restrictions: Shadow Lords cannot attain the Allies or Mentor Background. Any such alliance is temporary at best; anything less is an invitation to betrayal.
  Beginning Gifts: Aura of Confidence, Fatal Flaw, Seizing the Edge
  Quote: You fool! Our enemy is a madman, a tyrant who will not give up so easily. Like many ambitious men, he is weak to his own flaws. Perhaps you should let me lead the raid against him. I know how he thinks....

Stereotypes

  Janos Raven-Claw, Shadow Lord Philodox, confides what his spies have confirmed:
  Black Furies: Their pride is their undoing, and they definitely feel the need to prove themselves. As long as one's got a chip on her shoulder, you'll know exactly how to exploi... er, speak to her.
  Bone Gnawers: Desperate for help. If you patronize their company, they'll reveal all sorts of interesting secrets. The Bone Gnawers' mastery of stealth and hidden talents in war are vastly underrated.
  Children of Gaia: Peace has its place. It gives us the opportunity to further prepare for war.
  Fianna: Don't forget that they know the Litany almost as well as we do. Almost.
  Get of Fenris: As the saying goes, "Speak of war and they'll scream for more." A few well-chosen words, and they'll fight — and usually kill — anything that gets in your way.
  Glass Walkers: The more others treat them with fear and disdain, the more they need to ally with us. Pine by me. As long as they're considered urrah, they can't really refuse our aid.
  Red Talons: Make your arguments with them quick and dirty. They aren't exactly masters of logic, are they?
  Silent Striders: Be wary. They have some most unusual allies, some of which are hard to identify. If they can't scout out the truth themselves, they know others who can.
  Silver Fangs: Their time haspassed,but don't underestimate them. They're almost as full of surprises as we are. In the end, don't be surprised when we end up pissing on their graves..
  Uktena: They've got a lot of skeletons in their closet, so the darkest of them are vulnerable to blackmail. Watch and learn. Their reputation hardly precludes them from acting in our conspiracies.
  Wendigo: Within their cold hearts, they can bear grudges for a long, long time.
  Stargazers: Do you need any more reason than the Stargazers' desertion not to trust those of other tribes too closely?

Silent Striders

  Mysterious wanderers, tireless scouts, heralds — these are the Silent Striders. Their roots lie in Africa and the Middle East, but they can be found nearly anywhere, traveling and listening. For these wayfarers, home is the open road, and a caern or Kinfolk's house is a mere rest stop. Their feet are lightest when on a path, whether of blown sand, concrete or spirit-stuff. They explore where no werewolf — or no one — has been before. They poke their snouts in where they don't belong, and they move on if they don't find a Wyrm pit or something equally interesting. They visit caerns of many different tribes, and they have been known to consort with mages, spirits and the fae as well. Others have seen the Wyrm on the move in one aspect or another, even if they call it by a different name. Striders have even trod the paths of the dead in search of hidden knowledge from the restless spirits of those who have gone before. The scent of the Dark Umbra clings to them, adding to the eerie mystery that shrouds them.
  Although no real rivalries exist between the Striders and other tribes, many werewolves don't trust Owl's followers. Perhaps it's because Striders typically travel alone or in pairs. A lone wolf is always cause for suspicion, especially one that chooses that path. Perhaps it's because they show up unheralded, with grim news on their lips and dark omens in their eyes. Or perhaps it's the way one walks away from a conversation with a Strider with the feeling of having revealed much more than one gleaned from the enigmatic watcher. Certainly, all these reasons are valid.
  The Striders are a tribe of many contradictions. They crave the comforts of a home or territory, but they cannot bring themselves to claim any as rightfully their own. Like other Garou, they long for the companionship of packs, but they often find themselves driven to keep to themselves — and on the road. A sept may have no notion that a Strider is in the vicinity unless she has something to tell them, and usually that takes the form of an urgent warning; the Striders have a deserved reputation as harbingers of ill omen. But it's quite true that Striders are experts at gathering information from casual conversation. Although most are quite skillful storytellers, they much prefer to listen than talk. They have a variety of ways to manipulate a speaker into going on at length until the Strider has milked him for all he knows.
  Apart from Banes and Black Spirals, they reserve their sharpest hate for vampires. No Garou trucks with the undead if he's wise, but the Striders are the Leeches' bitter foes, although few outside the tribe know why. Tribal legend holds that long ago, the tribe fought against an army of vampires led by the dark god-monster known as Sutekh. At the final battle, Sutekh wove a mighty curse that drove them from their homeland of Egypt and scattered them to the four winds. To this day, the land of the Nile is the one land where they can find no rest. But worse still, the curse severed all contact with the ancestor-spirits of the tribe. No Striders have been able to find their forbears, even though many have searched both spirit world and Underworld for some sign. Many Striders take an Egyptian name in honor of their lost heritage.
  As might be expected from nomads, Striders hold fewer caerns than any other tribe, and those they claim generally have a high turnover in membership. Sept members that stay for more than a season or two are usually old enough for the call of duty to drown out the call of the road. Still, as with the Wheel of Ptah sept in Casablanca, they are often located at crossroads, so tales of the road can soften loss of the road itself.
  Striders form many friendships, but fortunate is the friend who meets the Strider more than twice. When they do join packs of mixed tribes, they show their packmates loyalty unto death — the Striders are so few that they greatly value those truly close to them. They are likewise known for brief but intense relationships with their Kin, for you don't have time for protracted preliminaries when tomorrow will see you far away. One of the worst things anyone, Garou or Kin, can do to a Strider is bind him to a place against his will through duty or force. Sooner than later, their hearts pine for the open road once more, as many lovers have learned. A Strider whose wings have been clipped is utterly miserable, and campfire tales say that a few actually wasted away and died from being denied their freedom.
  It's a lonely life, and it brings a lonely death all too often. Striders rarely fall amid friends; they are simply never seen again. It is the custom that aged or infirm Striders make a final journey into the Umbra, never to return. Some hope that they will find their loved ones there at last.
  Appearance: The first Silent Striders hailed from North Africa and the Middle East, and much of the tribe wears that cast upon their faces. However, they have bred with humans of every stock. Whatever their ethnic background, they are almost universally lean and fit from constant travel. In wolf form, they are long and lean like the jackal-dogs of Egyptian art, often with sleek black coats and yellow eyes.
  Kinfolk: Scattered across the world, Strider Kinfolk are typically travelers themselves — Bedouin nomads, circus troupes, Gypsies, truckers or just plain drifters.
  Territory: Everywhere. Nowhere. As perpetual wanderers, it is the rare Strider who sees two moons from the same patch of ground.
  Tribal Totem: Owl
  Initial Willpower: 3
  Background Restrictions: Silent Striders may not have the Ancestors or Resources Backgrounds.
  Beginning Gifts: Sense Wyrm, Silence, Speed of Thought Quote: Awake! On your feet! The Wyrm's Breath follows hard at my heels.
  Quote: Awake! On your feet! The Wyrm's Breath follows hard at my heels.

Stereotypes

  Lerli Moonless-Sky, Silent Strider Galliard, shares some tales:
  Black Furies: Worthy of respect, but let them open their own doors.
  Bone Gnawers: Homebodies, but they're alright. Especially when you have a head cold — don't smell as much.
  Children of Gaia: A Child of Gaia caern is a fine place to fill your belly and wash the dust off. The exhortations to join their personal cause get to you after a couple of days, though.
  Fianna: Only they have an appreciation of tales to match ours. Better still, they'd rather talk than listen. To my mind, there's no finer caern to pass a night.
  Get of Fenris: They'd be easy to dismiss if we didn't know that when they say they're ready to die to the last to save Gaia, they mean it. There's more to the Get than meets the eye.
  Glass Walkers: Garou are creatures of balance; the Walkers have strayed too close to the human side. They have adapted to the world, but have lost part of themselves...
  Red Talons: ...as have the Talons. To embrace the wolf at the expense of the human only makes them more bestial than our wolf Kin.
  Shadow Lords: If they took the energy spent trying to dethrone the Silver Fangs and used it to bring down the Wyrm, I think we'd be a lot better off.
  Silver Fangs: They need to leave their throne rooms and take a lap or two. The fresh air will clean out those cobwebs in their heads.
  Uktena: They are living proof that there really is such a thing as knowing too much.
  Wendigo: Proud and noble in a way no other tribe can understand. I respect them, but I only hope they'll deign to join in when the time comes.
  Stargazers: With such a wide world, why look inward all the time? Ah, well, they follow their path, and I follow mine.

Silver Fangs

  The Silver Fangs are the proudest, most noble of the tribes. Tracing their lineage back to the Progenitor Wolf, they represent the best of the breed, embodying everything it means to be Garou: strength, nobility, perseverance, loyalty and magnificence. Through their heroic examples and awe-inspiring leadership, they unite the tribes against their enemies.
  That's one side of the story. A less flattering view is of the inbred rulers whose chief right of rulership is the memory of their great grandfathers' deeds as king. They are mired in strict adherence to traditions only they remember, whose original purpose may be lost to time. In the Fang's court, action has given way to procedural points. They are doddering, even senile kings whose authority among the tribes extends only as far as the doors of the royal court.
  Which view is true? Perhaps some of both. To be sure, the Silver Fangs lived up to their legends in the old days. In battle the Fangs were matchless, inspiring their followers by leading charges; in peace, they were just and fair, mediating disputes to keep the tribes from warring against each other... too frequently. They took as their own the best Kinfolk from nobility of many countries throughout Europe and Asia.
  Things changed as centuries passed. Their power waned, in the human realm as well as the Garou. In recent years many Garou have noticed the Fangs becoming increasingly neurotic, manifesting minor quirks such as absentmindedness or an overdeveloped sense of vengeance. Their tendency to fall into Harano is explained readily as the price of the heavy burden of leadership in these trying times. As to the rest, well, the rich and powerful have always been eccentric, have they not? Some whisper, however, that centuries of breeding with exclusive bloodlines is beginning to take its toll. But Falcon's tribe insists that that exclusivity makes their blood run so pure in their veins.
  The Silver Fangs borrowed many traditions from their noble Kinfolk. Territory is divided up into "protectorates" ruled by a king (by tradition, always Ahroun) who presides over a court. The court is divided into the Lodge of the Sun and the Lodge of the Moon. The former deals with temporal matters such as business and commerce, while the latter presides over spiritual affairs as well as concerns of the lupus population. Courts and lesser moots are lengthy affairs, at which all interested parties haggle over points of contention. Formal moots take all night (reciting the King's introduction alone may take half an hour). If there is important business, the debates can last for days.
  Many Garou still look to the Fangs for leadership, showing the respect due by right of millennia of rule. Others see them as figureheads, little more than mascots. Not a few consider them worse than useless, for a bad decision costs precious lives in the Garou's most desperate hour. Lately, the murmurs of discontent have grown louder as voices are added. The Shadow Lords have wasted no time in fanning the unrest, but there has been no open rebellion thus far. There is still loyalty enough to keep the Fangs in power, but Falcon's tribe had better show initiative soon. One movement within the tribe, the Renewalist faction, has been particularly aggressive in its calls to rebuild before the tribe collapses.
  One of the Fangs' greatest strengths is personal charisma. A leader who meets often with other Garou can bind disparate factions together through sheer force of personality. Unfortunately, many choose to sit in their courts and make everyone come to them. Thus isolated, their effectiveness wanes.
  In these dark days, many Garou look to their own tribes for strength rather than shackling themselves to the mad ones who would drag them down into the Abyss. As Gaia's warriors are on the verge of being overwhelmed by the onslaught of Wyrm and Weaver, those who still believe in the divine right of the Silver Fangs see this time as their last chance to reward that trust.
  Appearance: Silver Fangs come primarily from aristocrats of European and Middle Eastern descent, although one noble house has established itself neatly in Asia and India. In human form, they have refined features, often with familial peculiarities such as a distinctive nose or ears. Their wolf forms are always graceful, with fur of silver or white, long jaws and full tail brushes. In any form, they usually wear some form of jewelry.
  Kinfolk: The Fangs keep very detailed track of their Kin, with "pedigrees" that fill whole libraries. Their human Kin are of impeccable breeding from the nobility of the countries of Europe; Russia in particular used to be the Fangs' homeland. Money is not a prime consideration. A penniless branch of the Romanovs would be more valuable than a newly rich industrialist family descended from chicken thieves. Likewise, the tribe keeps close contact with their rare lupine Kin living on great estates, primarily in Russia and western Canada.
  Territory: Silver Fang septs are scattered across the Garou Nation. They typically hold some of the choicest lands, to the displeasure of the tribes from which they commandeered those lands. They live in lands with splendid vistas — great mountain chains, seaside cliffs or forested valleys — places as majestic as the Silver Fangs are (to) themselves.
  Tribal Totem: Falcon
  Initial Willpower: 3
  Background Restrictions: Silver Fang characters must spend at least three Background points on Pure Breed.
  Beginning Gifts: Falcon's Grasp, Lambent Flame, Sense Wyrm
  Quote: Under Falcon's banner I stand before you. Join your banner to mine, and all the Spirals in the world can't stop us from reclaiming the lost caern! Are you with me? Then follow me, for Gaia!

Stereotypes

  Malcolm Summersbright, Sliver Fang Philodox, speaks with all due candor:
  Black Furies: How can so honorable and trustworthy a tribe be so confused?
  Bone Gnawers: Pathetic creatures, they squabble in the street and then expect to be welcomed into our mansions! They are Garou... technically, but they are like a branch of the family that one would just as soon forget about.
  Children of Gaia: Joyous lovers of peace, they lend us a sympathetic ear. Would that they were as quick to take our burdens from us as they are to heap more on. Still, they help keep the others in our cause.
  Fianna: For their songs that soothe and hearten and remind us of old times, we are grateful. For their satires of our leadership, we are wary. For their drinking and shouting, we are long-suffering.
  Get of Fenris: Complain all you wish about the Get's hunger for war, but you cannot call them honorless without proving yourself a liar.
  Glass Walkers: Cities have made them soft. Urban life has made them strange.
  Red Talons: They have embraced the Beast too closely, and they suffer for it. They never come to court and seldom do as we ask, but where I would see insubordination in other tribes I merely assume the Talons forgot what day the meeting was.
  Shadow Lords: They have "that lean and hungry look." We will put them in their place as needed, in March or any other month.
  Silent Striders: Mysterious travelers whom I prefer to see going rather than coming, for they seldom bring good news.
  Uktena: Secret-keepers of the first rank, who list their true feelings for us among their secrets.
  Wendigo: Wise and powerful, aloof and disdainful. I'm not sure if they are truly allies, but we both profit should they add their strength to our own.
  Stargazers: They were wise councilors, if a bit too ethereal. A pity that they chose such an insubordinate path for themselves.

Uktena

  The Uktena tribe is composed of animistic (some would say primitive) peoples from throughout the world. They are the "world beat" of the Garou Nation, yet as the most multi-cultural tribe, they've also inherited many of the legacies of the dispossessed. Throughout their history, other cultures have slowly encroached on and devoured their tribal lands. Their Kinfolk have been forced out of their homelands repeatedly, sometimes dragged away in chains. Generations of suffering have nurtured hatred and a thirst for vengeance in their dark hearts. Therefore, it is often rumored that many of them are driven to the Wyrm as a result. While they have accumulated mysticism and magic from throughout the world, many are drawn to dark arts, occult studies and forbidden lore.
  At one time, however, the tribe was one of the three largest in the world, roaming across vast stretches of primal wilderness. Long before their descent into darkness, the Uktena, Wendigo and Croatan tribes made up one people. Modern Galliards refer to these ancestors as the "Pure Ones." When early Garou first led migrations of primitive humans across the Bering Strait, the Uktena settled in the south, wandering through what it is now the Southern United States and Central America. Among the Pure Ones, Wendigo is still known as "Younger Brother" and Uktena as "Older Brother."
  In their travels, packs of Uktena communed with creatures and spirits unknown to other werewolves, trading mystical knowledge and stories. Wereravens watched over them; Coyote's children led them on, mocking and laughing; Pumonca and Qualmi werecats taught them secret wonders. It is regrettable that the War of Rage cut them off from these former allies, yet the knowledge they learned still survives, if only in a bastardized and diminished form. The tribe has handed down its mystical secrets carefully for generations. The Uktena have become wise in ways that other werewolves can never understand... and perhaps never should.
  Natural wonders have since been conquered by unnatural horrors. Across the centuries, the Uktena have found powerful Banes sleeping in the Earth, and they have conducted epic rites to bind them. For generations, tribal "Bane Tenders" watched over unholy grounds, often gaining a thorough understanding of evil as a result. The tribe became unusually knowledgeable about the Wyrm — suspiciously so, some say. They have also been renowned for their talent at scouting out Wyrm taint where no one else could find it. Many of the greatest Uktena heroes gained honor and glory by finding blights and horrors in the spirit world, usually by using ancient knowledge hoarded by the tribe.
  Despite their wisdom and vigilance, the Uktena couldn't predict that Europeans would settle in the New World. Bitter tribal storytellers still describe the arrivals as "Wyrmcomers," for disease and suffering followed in their wake. When white settlers also brought African and Asian slaves with them, merciful werewolves took pity on these slaves and treated them as brothers. As the tribe's Kinfolk were enslaved, punished or wiped out, many Garou found solace in the spirit world, seeking answers beyond the veil of reality. Some turned to visionaries and prophets for aid, incorporating their dreams and nightmares into Uktena lore. As their power in the physical world waned, their mastery of the spirit world increased.
  After centuries of supernatural exploration, the tribe's mystics have gained a legendary knowledge of spirits and a staunch respect for prophecy. Uktena cliath are encouraged to share in some of these teachings, more so than in most other tribes. From the moment a cub completes her Rite of Passage, elders praise her driving need to understand spiritual mysteries and encourage her boundless curiosity. While Uktena Theurges are often the most adept at investigating the occult and resolving enigmas, such talents are common within the tribe.
  But the tribe's pursuits can be risky. Uktena are often tempted by forbidden knowledge during the course of their travels. Since their ancestors have lived among primitive peoples from all over the world, they have also gathered occult secrets from every place their forebears have lived. The modern world has forgotten the secrets of the ancient world, but lost magical arts are still passed from generation to generation. The Uktena's mystics and occultists are among the most powerful in the Garou Nation. Many claim rightful ownership of powerful fetishes, insisting that no other tribe could guard them properly. As a result, even their Wendigo brothers fear them... or at least demand to know what they are hiding. As long as the secrets of the past are kept alive, the Uktena will continue to confront the Wyrm as they have for thousands of years.
  Appearance: In Lupus form, most Uktena have reddish-black fur; many skulk as though they are stalking unseen spirits. In Homid form, they project an aura of mystery and menace, with a disconcerting habit of staring intently at everything around them. Many adapt the clothing and appearance of their ancestors. Some "adopted" tribalists are very eclectic, gathering fragments of the cultures that interest them most. While many pure-bred Uktena are Native American, the tribe includes indigenous peoples from throughout the world. Maori warriors and Cherokee mystics work side-by-side with African shamans. When in meditation, an Uktena acts as cryptically as any Umbral spirit, but when angered, she radiates a cold ferocity as fiercely as the balefires of Hell.
  Kinfolk: The Uktena are guardians of the dispossessed, of tribes and peoples who have lost their lands to foreign conquest. Uktena Kinfolk belong to a wide spectrum of oppressed ethnic groups. From Native American reservations to urban 'hoods, from the depths of the Amazon to the islands of the South Pacific, Uktena Kinfolk build strong communities that preserve their heritage. Adversity forces strength. Even lupus Kinfolk gather in tightly knit packs.
  Territory: In the depths of the wilderness, beneath the open sky, the Uktena practice ancient crafts. Only a few secret places have withstood Wyrmcomer assaults. Uktena will do nearly anything to punish intruders who find them. Many of the tribe's most sacred lands have been seized by other supernatural societies. As the End Times approach, the tribe's elders are increasingly willing to summon up mighty magic and retake those sites by force.
  Tribal Totem: The Uktena take their name from their tribal totem, a Native American water spirit with the features of a serpent, deer and cougar. The Uktena totem is famous for disguising its appearance, and it grants this talent to packs who follow him.
  Initial Willpower: 3
  Background Restrictions: None. Some things cannot be stolen, even by Wyrmcomers.
  Beginning Gifts: Sense Magic, Shroud, Spirit Speech
  Quote: You worry about fighting what you can see. I sense something very powerful here that you cannot. It is an ancient evil lurking in the shadows, a spirit my people have encountered before. Listen very carefully to what I am chanting. If I fall, I expect you to continue where I left off....

Stereotypes

  Sees-in-Darkness, an Uktena Theurge, offers his insight:

  Black Furies: As divisive as they are, they work together in their tribal rituals. If only I knew what they were doing there...
  Bone Gnawers: They have a talent for walking unnoticed in the midst of mankind. While they may not seem sane, they see things even we do not notice. Their understanding of the cities' spirit worlds is impressive.
  Children of Gaia: The Children's skill as healers and nurturers is unsurpassed. A pity that their approach to the sacred arts is so limited.
  Fianna: They should take life a bit more seriously. Such reckless behavior will destroy them.
  Get of Fenris: They are so proud of their strengths that they do not see their weaknesses.
  Glass Walkers: This tribe's urban magic is most curious. When they are in their element, they are truly formidable.
  Red Talons: A Talon's keen senses and sharper instincts are amazing. No one knows the natural world as well as they do... especially its mysteries.
  Shadow Lords: Listen very carefully to what they say. Half of it will be useful, and half of it will deceive you. If you're wise, you'll pick the right half.
  Silent Striders: What a marvelous job they do of exploring the spirit world. They get into all sorts of places I've only dreamt of seeing.
  Silver Fangs: Play up to their need for respect. We need all the allies we can get.
  Wendigo: Younger Brother, you and I are the only two I really trust. We walk different paths, yet we still follow the same sacred ways.
  Stargazers: We could easily have been as the Stargazers — but we have a brother to stand beside. The Stargazers had family here, too, but I do not think they knew that.

Wendigo

  As proud as any Silver Fang and almost as bitter as the Red Talons, the Wendigo consider themselves the purest of the Pure Ones, and the Garou least tainted by the Wyrm. According to their philosophy, the European werewolves have been touched by the Wyrm, the Croatan sacrificed themselves, and the Uktena have degraded themselves with the blood of the Wyrmbringers — the European invaders.
  The tribe takes its name from its totem, the great cannibal spirit of winter. Wendigo has taught his tribe the power that lies in harnessing the ice storm, its strength and implacability. As quiet as falling snow, fast as the winter wind, the Wendigo are masters of their woodland domain. No prey can elude them — on two legs or four. They engage in a covert war against the Wyrmbringer, focusing on those who seek actively to defile their lands and Kinfolk and steal away their culture. But don't all Garou of European stock bear some share of the blame ultimately? Doesn't their mere presence invite the Wyrm? Wendigo war parties can be found far from their lands, even into the heart of cities — wherever corruption can be traced.
  The tribe's relations with other Garou are tenuous. While they are on good terms with the Silent Striders and Red Talons, and they respect the Black Furies, they have little but suspicion for the other tribes. After centuries of bitter struggle, they have come to loathe the Get of Fenris, Fianna and Shadow Lords. Wendigo may ally with the Europeans to accomplish short-term goals, but they remain aloof on the whole. Trust is a difficult thing for the tribes to earn. The Wendigo been given too many empty promises.
  The Wendigo are a deeply traditional, deeply spiritual tribe that takes great pains to make sure that no hint of corruption taints its rituals. Wendigo hold their rites at sites too sacred for spectators, and any European Garou who tried to spy on their moots would never be seen again. Tribe members purify themselves ritually before hunts or battle; Wendigo seek spiritual aid to solve all manner of problems. Many packs quest through the spirit world looking for some sign of their brother tribe, the Croatan.
  The goal of the Wendigo is to secure the lands that they now hold. What happens beyond that is a question that occupies many councils. Some elders, particularly the Half Moons, wish to open the Wyrmbringer's eyes to the old traditions so that they may leave the cities, return to nature and live in harmony with the spirits and the earth. Others, including many Ahroun, have set for themselves the equally impossible task of driving the invaders from the Pure Lands or to wash the Wyrm taint from the earth with the Wyrmbringer's blood. Although most Wendigo consider this last view a pipe dream, frustration has brought more and more to this way of thinking. An alliance with like-minded Red Talons may not be long in coming.
  Although they are not the bookkeepers the Silver Fangs are, Wendigo are very picky about with whom they breed. They maintain exclusively Native American bloodlines, preferably from those who hold the old beliefs, and they breed only with wolves who live free and haven't forgotten the ways of the wild trapped in a zoo. They teach their Kin the old ways, although such teachings are easily drowned out in these days by the seductive promises of modern commercial society.
  Now, crowded cities look toward the North with its open spaces and raw materials. Forces of the Wyrm and the Weaver are gathering for the next assault to extinguish the dwindling tribe and defile the last of the Pure Lands. But for the Wendigo in their wilderness homes, the line has been drawn. No more negotiations, no more treaties, no more retreats. Should the skidders and bulldozers come to lay the forest bare, they must first drive over the bodies of the fallen Wendigo.
  Appearance: Virtually all Wendigo are born from the native peoples of northern North America (although a rumored few hail from Siberia). On four legs, they resemble the great timber wolves that make the tundra their home. Their coats are varying shades of gray so that they fade like ghosts into the forest.
  Kinfolk: All Wendigo Kin are native peoples, whether huddled on reservations or living in the wilds as their ancestors did. The tribe is lucky to have a relatively high proportion of wolf Kin wandering free in the northern lands.
  Territory: The stronghold of the tribe is in Canada, Alaska and the plains states of the US, but they may also be found on reservations giving strength to their people or in the Wyrmbringer cities fighting evil where it lives.
  Tribal Totem: Wendigo
  Initial Willpower: 4
  Background Restrictions: Wendigo may not buy Contacts or Resources.
  Beginning Gifts: Call the Breeze, Camouflage, Resist Pain
  Quote: You are looking for σour friends? See, their blood is still wet on my claws. Now, I will send you to them!

Stereotypes

  Nawautin, Wendigo Galliard, growls his misgivings:
  Black Furies: These women are brave, but they have lost the true path.
  Bone Gnawers: A Garou that gladly lives in filth is no Garou. Still, they are better than others.
  Children of Gaia: Their promises were sweet, but they did not stop their cousins from drawing our blood. The Children know how to love, but they have not yet learned when to hate.
  Fianna: Sweet-voiced Wyrmcomers that remember their own glory but forget the death they brought to our people. Now they wonder at our anger.
  Get of Fenris: They respect no agreement, no territory, nothing except strength in battle. There is no honor in them. The only thing they may be trusted to do is to draw their silver blades at a moment's notice.
  Glass Walkers: They have forgotten the land, and it is dead beneath their feet. They are like spiders spinning their webs inside a skull.
  Red Talons: We know their outrage, but to forsake a part of themselves lessens them.
  Shadow Lords: The Stormcrows embrace the worst attributes of the Wyrmbringers: greed, treachery, casual cruelty and selfishness. They take everything and deserve nothing.
  Silent Striders: They have not done us wrong. We respect them, but we pity them too. None should live without their people close at hand.
  Silver Fangs: These "kings" were born across the sea, yet they claim to know what is right for all wolf-changers. But their spirits are sick — if they can not help themselves, how can they know our path?
  Uktena: Older Brother no longer walks a good path. The Uktena mate with mongrels and search the dark places for secrets that will bring them no peace. We must bring them back before they step into the Horned Serpent's maw.
  Stargazers: There is much wisdom in the Stargazers. We could trust them, even though we could not always understand them. I hope their decision is a good one.