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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 Bodaea'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 simple that women are worthy of respect and reverence.

Through out history, rumor had it that Black Furies gave birth exclusively to female offspring, In truth, some Furies ceremoniously killed their male children; the rest gave their cubs away. The latter in today’s age being the most common. The only exceptions were the metis; for reasons unknown, 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 force 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 me." 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 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 sabbats. Ulaka magelis are for Black Furies alone, for only they have the strength and stamina to endure the lenghtly 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 keep them secret from the patriarchal societies surrounding them.

In Greek myth, Bellerophon, a hero who's 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 revers other totems as well, from Owl and Panther to the Muses and Medusae.

Tribalists who share similar beliefs gather in camps called Kuklos 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 from 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 of her tribe still encourage her to take up Gaian causes shared by her sisters. In her name, the Furies will avenge any crime against women, insult toward the Goddess or defilement of her creation.

Furies are strongly connected to the Wyld and shun the Wyrm and the Weaver's work, including pharmaceutical care and test-tube babies. In other words, creations of Man that mess with Mother Nature. In their defense of Gaia, most Furies seek out violators of the land and males, in general. The tribe is a fierce rival of the Get of Fenris, whom they view as nothing but a bunch of male chauvinists.

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 depict 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, modern 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 rescues) 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 Through out their entire lives.

Territory: Through out 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.

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 think 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....



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 a**.
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.

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 to important to lose sight of in constant skirmishes over difference. Accord, the Children claim, is on 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 of her love. When boiled down to those basic terms, they insist, the “complexities” of the tribes’ disagreement sort out pretty quickly.

While their reputations 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 nation 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 fell 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 be weaker for the struggle. The only winner is the Wyrm. When 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 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 Gaias’ Children. Furthermore, tribe members are always on the look out 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. The efforts to improve the situation of Native Americans has helped raise their status n 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. The further realize that the rest of the Garou Nation would likely persecute them fro 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 r 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 he 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?



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.

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!



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.

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 elders 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-Impergium 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 sincethey're gone, it doesn't matter anymore.

Appearance: In wolf form, Talons are generally largeframed, with noticeably oversized jaws and paws. Even in Lupus, their claws are almost catlike in sharpness. Their fur tends 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?



Lynx-Killer, Red Talons 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!

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.



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.

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....



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.