' J1r cred1t for the revolution m 1917 talk to cliath

' J~~;1r, ) cred1t for the revolution m 1917; talk to cliath

'·'·~ ~--) _This practice was no l onger strictly the origin~! Ban of Man, so ~e elders ·· y : f gave 1t a new name: the H1gh Ban. In some septs, 1t s sttll seen as a valtd way of • 1'' • 1 meddling in human affairsat least among Bone Gnawers. When danger closes in on an urban sept, when the Veil is threatened, the High Ban is .~"!"/ ,~/ down in Mexico, and they'll brag like they're ,..., ~ _ ,./. · . the original cowboys. We all do it. We each ;:<:.. ' . .1-!f '-~~ ~~· •· _/ tell the story to serve our own ends. Does that ' l ...... .

--. \- ~ ··j:'\- t • . . ,. -\ .. ~·:i~~~ .~;. \ '•!.>.ti-.;.,..,.J a last resort to preserving the peace. Pledging to uphold the High Ban, and then breaking it, is also a harsh way to lose a great renown. ~:' folk songs that inspired American soldiers. and we still sing them today. Patriotism swept through the American Bone Gnawers like a breath of fresh air. We began to see America as a bright new homeland. Back in the Old Country, the . - :-:.:' --·- '\--~ elders got their fur all knotted up over the idea.

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There's even a tale that some German Get came -" .· ;· ·-:...

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"'--- --- to America with Hessian mercenaries to even the score-andwesentthempackingbackoverthepond!

-:L , ~ -~ and file with the soldiers at Valley Forge, Bunker Hill, and (ironically enough) Concord. Think of it: Of all the Garou, no one but a Bone Gnawer would be willingtoenduresomuchcold,starvation,privation,andsufferingforthesake of something his tribe wouldn't ruleand he'd do it in Homid form, too!

We were the only tribe innovative enough, and valiant enough, to risk it all on such a grand ideal. Only the Bone Gnawers were crazy enough to try something like the High Ban. There's a reason we felt so strongly: freedom. Sweet, glorious freedom. If we didn't have a place of our own in Europe, then we'd have to make a home in America. Because we fought for it honorably, we felt like we'd earned it. Fair play is the American way, after all! Since that time, the Bone Gnawers have been the most American of all the Thirteenpardon me, Twelve Tribes -no matter what they may say in other parts of the world. f hJnlfh .:J<IIvt7M/17n Canada, or Hong Kong, or even Antarctica at that time, you'll have to ask someone else. If you talk .-' -~ f.\ to Russian Bone Gnawers and they'll claim ' J~~;1r, ) cred1t for the revolution m 1917; talk to cliath The tribal elders agreed: the American Revolution was a war the humans would have to win for themselves, but we wanted to stand side by side with them - as equals, not overlords. A few crackpots resisted, but with a bit of ~ convincing, we won them overro our side. T ostir up the troops, Galliards sang new ballads to praise the heroes of the war. They learned the simple So maybe Average Joe Bone Gnawer doesn't know his ancestry. You'll still fmd him talking about his patriot forefathers. You can take pride in their bravery. We stood rank Now, kids, remember: Bone Gnawers may be more common in some places than others, but they still come from all over.

I'm from Philadelphia, so if you want to ask me the history of the tribe, I'll tell you about my country, and I'm dam proud of it. I know that many of those Garou from Lisbon headed for South America, for instance. If you want to hear about that, you're free to travel down there and hear it from the source. But right now, you're on my turf!

If you want to ask what the tribe was doing in sound biased?Sure it is! Maybe I'mjustproudofwho I am.

You got a problem with that, pal?

So you'll know I'm bragging when I say this: The success of the American Revolution sparked ideas abroad as well. Again, it's not like we're going to take credit for what humanity did, but we did give them a good solid push in the right direction. Back in Europe, there were other forces at work. The Wyrm's coils reached deep into the Old World, especially in the big cities of Europe. Rat's brood was ready to dig deep and rip it out.

Take Paris, for example. The whole place was lousy with Leeches, and had been since the city began. Ancient and powerful undead stalked the corridors of Versailles. Tainted vampires took obscene pleasure in sipping the blue blood of the French nobility. Evil ancients remained content to maintain theirfacadesofpowerand privilege. Until the unwashed masses surged up to chop the French nobility into bloody chunks.

They didn't do it just to depose the human royalty. They didn't realize it, but they had a bit ofhelp. While the revolutionaries were storming the Bastille, we unleashed our fury on the undead overlords of Paris. And believe it or not, we were led into battle by a metis! A clever young metis Garou named Henri found a way to strike a temporary treaty with a pack of Parisian Ratkin eager to raise some hell. And while they launched their diversions, we lynched some Parisian Leeches! Those shambling cadavers could hide behind make-up, perfume, and powdered wigs, but they couldn't hide the stench of the Wyrm from us!

French Galliards still tell stories of the French Revolution, and tell them with the same pride I have for ours. More than a few cubs claim to be descended from heroes of the revolution. Since then, the ideals of equality and freedom have been an inspiration to us all, especially our Bone Gnawer brethren in France. There, see what I mean? We aren't aU American. In fact, I've met tribal brothers and sisters from other countries that are almost as patriotic as we are ... almost.

We aren't all revolutionaries, either, of course. If we were, we would have tried to overthrow our tribal elders and the rulers of other tribes long ago. And we don't do that sort of thing, do we? Well, do we? Keep listening, pal! ..k>~th for ffid H//Q Somaybetheothertribescalluscowardsbecausewearen't as obsessed with hunting the Wyrm. They didn't understand what we were fighting for! And then again, maybe we should have paid less attention to human society and more to our own.

How can we take credit for human revolutions? The humans revolutionized their governments, but in our septs, the old traditions stood fast. When Bone Gnawer heroes tried to rise up against the tribal elders, they got slapped down. Hard.

Only a handful of caerns defied the old traditions. A precious few septs had Bone Gnawers as sept leaders. I can think of one in Paris, and of course, the Sept of the Awakening in Washinging, D.C., in the U.S. of A., but outside of those few havens, the spirit of revolution faded, replaced by a spirit of discontent. We fought and bled and even died, but the tribe was still shamed as the scavengers of the Garou Nation.

While we were fighting to make America a country based on equality, the European tribes sold us out. Withoursweatand blood, the Gnawers helped make some of the American caems multitribal, but this had a deadly cost. The elders we propped up seized power from the Uktena and W endigo. The European Garou claimed that the Pure Ones couldn't run their caems properly without help. Before long, they couldn't run them at all. For all the glorious pageant of America's history, that's part of America's shame. After what the "Wyrmcomers" did to the Pure Ones, many Garou decided that they'd had it, and they started to walk out. Hey, maybe the Uktenaand Bone Gnawers have more in common than you think, huh?

Any way you look at it, our forebears were dissatisfied with the way the elders treated them. That takes a hell of a lot, by the way. Most Garou, they just kind of accept their place in the hierarchy, the way a wolf accepts a strong alpha. But if your lot in life involves getting humiliated on a regular basis, it's time for a change. I can't tell you whether that attitude was more common then than it is today, butl'msureyou'veseen it around.

After their Rites of Passage, many discontented Bone Gnawers learn a few rites and Gifts, watch the old system of politics break down, and then leave. Well, let me tell you, bub: Our tribe and this country are dedicated to change. That's why our tribe does things differently. That's why we have to change things.

Not wanting to serve the elders anymore, rebellious Garou abandoned their need for renown, setting off into the wilderness. Far beyond the protectorates of the American septs, a Garou could find his own land, seeing the world as Gaia made it. It was Gaia's will, our manifest destiny. Generations of Bone Gnawers ran for the hills, living as trappers and mountain men in the wilderness. We had enough elbow room to spread out.

Teeth-of-the-Jackal calls them rabble; I call them explorers and innovators. Bone Gnawers don't need to spend all their time sleeping in the caem bawn-they have lives outside the caem, too-and those old mountain men were no different.

Some of our Kin settled down with families; as a result, our tribe became a vast tapestry of extended families reaching across the American wild. Fiercely independent, but fervently Garou, they founded the Hillfolk, one of the largest American camps. If a rural caem has a lot of Bone Gnawers, you won't see them everyday, or even every month. They'll spread out for miles and miles, living life as they please. ~A/HdriMn t::J(/I/1J4'r By this time, the biggest concentration of Bone Gnawers was still in the U.S. of A. You knew I had to say that, right? Yeah, we had brothers and sisters in Europe and Africa and South America and Australia and even China, for Goddess' sake. But for the huddled masses yearning to breathe free, America had more Bone Gnawers and their Kinfolk than anyplace else. Our tribe had a homeland again.

And the scrappy little scavenger totems - Rat, Raven, Crow, and even Jackalwere growing in strength.

Thanks to the original Exodus from Europe, so many of us were side by side in that same place that we started dreaming up another totem to watch over us. You see, we've been cast out and kicked out and beaten up over and over again, but we never gnve up, ::md we never give in. Some bit of hope or foolishness kept us going, and enough of us believed in it back then that it started to make a difference. That spirit of hope, as corny as it sounds, became part of the American Dream.

If we weren't good enough for the old traditions, we'd make up new ones. Like the idea that if you worked real hard, you should get something back for it. If you could put in an honest day's hard work, you should be able to support yourself and your family. And remember, anyone can be a success if they work hard enough! All of our beliefs about survival and our rough-as-nails work ethic started building a brand-new tOtem, all wrapped up with our enthusiasm for baseball, apple pie, and American way. I'm not talking about a metaphor, folks, I'm talking about an actual lncama: the American Dream! Today, it might seem as old-fashioned as a Norman Rockwell painting, but some Bone Gnawers get worked up about that kind of stuff. Like me, brother. Like me. rJhd~~h~PVt?~h Even in the twentieth century, our brothers and sisters were spread all over the world. While the largest pack of Gnawers were stalking the American Dream, werewolves on the other side of the planet had other problems. Trapped in the ways of the Old World, they endured a system that consistently kept our tribe dominated by just about everyone else. Just like we were back in the feudal Dark Ages, huh?

Like the Old Man said, we're the commoners, the rabble, the grunts, and the peasants of Garou society. In the Silver Fang's protectOrates, their tribe had a lot of noble Kinfolk, while we suffered along with the destitute and disadvantaged. In an act of Silver Fang "generosity," they tried to curry our favor by allowing us one measly urban caern in Moscow where we could get together. Th is open city square was rather contemptuously named the Sept of the Noble's Will. Awful nice of them. Especially since one family of Silver Fangs passed on the position of sept leader from one generation to the next. We climbed all over each other trying to get into the other sept positions, but it still involved a lot of sucking up to the muckety-mucks.

Then in 1917, the Russian Revolution hit. Now, I've heard a lot of conspiracy theories about who wiped out the Romanovs and so many other Silver Fang Kinfolk. No, sir, we won't take credit for that, or for the revolution.l'll just say \lie were there. History looks fora name ora face to take the credit for great accomplishments, but if you ask the Russian Bone Gnawers, they'll just tell you it was the spirit of the times. The spirit of the People. The spirit of revolution.

Other tribes make a big deal over leaders, but we know it takes a lot of people-or an army of Garouto really make a difference. When the Romanovs lost power, the people surged up to retake what was rightfully theirs. Hey! I ain't no Commie! But I got a lot of sympathy for anyone who's been beaten down for so long. The tribe had been waiting a long time to seize power from the elders, so at the height of the Russian Revolution, a pack of Bone Gnawers made their move.

No one can prove they killed that sept leader, mind you.

No one ever found the body. But oddly enough, almost overnight, the Sept of the Noble's Will became the Sept of the People's Will. A rather humble Philodoxnamed Ivan Ivanovich became a hero overnight by becoming the new sept leader. He even changed his name: Ivan Debates-with-UnaswerableIdeology. When the Silver Fangs tracked him down, they humiliated him by driving him from his own sept. Then, within a month, his body disappeared, too. But I'll tell you what, that sept name hasn't changed back. And you'll never see another Silver Fang as sept leader in that caern again. 7hd .:£.,92-o.t While the more conservative Bone Gnawer elders upheld the Ban of Man, ambitious young Glass Walkers kept building their influence in human society. The Roaring Twenties were a golden age for them. While we rejected the evils of the Weaver's world, they embraced them. With ties to organized crime, bootlegging profits, and political power, the Walkers rolled across America like nobody's business ... except their own. The Glass Walkers began taking over urban caerns in force - at least, the ones they could find. With the Weaver's newfound strength, they were practically unstOppable.

American Bone Gnawers had two choices. They could withdraw even more from the Garou Nation, or they could team up with the wolves in power. As you can guess, a lot of our grandfather and grandmother Garou took the easy way out. In caerns across America, the GW often worked as the brains, and we worked as the muscle. It's arrangement some Garou still believe in ... and some Bone Gnawers are ashamed to admit. For a while, there were even rumblings of the two tribes becoming one. Beggars can't be choosers, I guess.

Sometimes you have to survive any way you can.

For a while, the two urban tribes were actually getting along pretty well. The Stock Market Crash of '29 changed all that. And what happened next? If you've been listening this evening, you know the pattern by now. Someone preaches a high ideal, we do the hard work, someone else reaps the rewards. Then the Bone Gnawers get abandoned.

But it's not desperation that drives us back, chum! It's pure Bone Gnawer idealism. You keep fighting until you win.

Either that, or you drop out completely. But you cubs and cliath ain't never gonna do that, huh? Huh?

Even when the two tribes got along politically, the urrah had some strong religious differences. America's a land of religious tolerance, but really! Rat was Rat, and Cockroach was ... well, pretty creepy if you ask me. We weren't gonna worship no bug! Bone Gnawer shamans moaned and wailed that this tribal alliance would end in doom for all concerned, and we looked at them like they were insane. 'Cause, like, they were. Only a few prophets and visionaries in the tribe saw it coming, but no one really listened ... until it was too late.

Since then, we've learned a lot from that particular mistake we hold our tribe's Theurges in high esteem, even when others think their ideas are out in the ozone. 011r Theurges knew there was a reckoning close at hand, and it was called the Great Depression. It hit the Glass Walkers hard. When the Glass Walkers held power in most of the urban caems, they were delighted to boss us around, but once they fell from grace, they started forgetting all we'd done for them. Once again, we were tossed aside, like so many times before. For those of us living in the midst of humanity, we were in a world of hurt. 7#tJ t11Wr/ P~kh The Great Depression tested our resolve, both as a tribe and as a nation. That was America's darkest hour, but it was our tum to shine. We took tosellingapples in the streets; we defended tent cities; we worked side by side in public work projects. Our status in the Garou Nation slipped even more, but we didn't care. The years that followed helped define us as a tribe - even though we were poor, we were proud.

You ever wonder why we're so strong in New York?

Hell, we built it with our own sweat and blood, kids! You know, our Galliards learn to memorize the names of streets, buildings, and subway stations in a lot of cities. In New York, they'll even tell you which ones we helped build, back with the help of the WP A. The Works Progress Administration.

Ever heard of it? Way l hear, some Bone Gnawer working in the White House whispered that idea to the President himself. If everyone works, everyone wins.

We go way back in Manhattan -our tribe was tending a caern there back when it was called New Amsterdam. Where'd you think such a wonderful place like Central Park came from?

Two of our Kinfolk drew up the plans. And back in the thirties, we helped build a home in the middle of the park where the city's homeless and unemployed could sleep-a city called Hooverville.

That's why I'm proud of who I am, because we could never pull that kind of stunt back in the Old Country. You want to know our tribe's history? We were everywhere. We were with the immigrants who came to Ellis Island; the farmers who struggled to make a living in the Oklahoma dustbowl; the men and women who marched with Martin Luther King; the boys who gave their lives in two World Wars. That's why our tribe doesn't give a damn what your ancestors did or where you came fromwe only care about what you're doing now, today. And the real pageant of history isn't happening in the Garou Nation, it's in the cities, where real heroes make a difference. Ain't that swell? ftJprft/ IVt:rr // When I preach about us living through two World Wars, I'm not kidding. When we heard about the first Great War, we rushed out there faster than you can say "moon bridge."

Some heroes used the wars to try to prove themselves to the European Garou, some wanted to get in touch with their European cousins, and some just wanted to make a profit on the black market. It didn't matter-we kept getting stronger.

Glass Walkers get worked up about the 20's, but ourGalliards still tell tales about Dubya-Dubya Two.

That was a time when it didn't matter who you werethe whole nation fought that war together. It didn't matter if you were just some grunt hunkered down with a hundred other men. You were still a hero. Think back to the lmpergium, when the elders would send out swarms of Bone Gnawers to die in battle. We weren't expendable anymore. We didn't want to die; we played to win. That ideal caught on real big in the tribe. Our young Ahroun still listen to tales about all the greatest battles ofW orld War II. We remembered that Rat was a totem of war, and we realized that Rat had teeth.

With enough tyrants in the Garou Nation, we didn't want rosee a human dictator taking over Europe. Our passion for the war was so great that some Garou stopped caring about the Veil and the Ban altogether. The War didn't treat the other tribes as well, though. When Germany went to war, it rore the Get ofFenris apart. Some of them fought beside us to liberate Europe, but when we found out that some Germanic Get were backing Hitler, all hell broke loose.

In some of the biggest battles, the Delirium magnified the horrors of war. We unleashed our rage against the separatist Fenrir and their Nazi Kin. We lost all restraint when we saw humans slaughtered to fulfill a madman's dreams. And in the darkest hours of the war, there was no Ban. Millions of innocent people were killed, so Rat's children fought like the world was ending. A few of our mad Theurges even started predicting that the End Times were starting right then and there. They spoke of all creation being torn apart, of the Wyrm striking in the world with weapons never seen before. Our Theurges ranted and raved, but only the Bone Gnawer tribe believed them.

Unfortunately, the prophets were right. The signs of the End Times were there. Hiroshima and Nagaski fulfilled our worst nightmares. Mankind finally had the power to destroy the world, and the Wyrm surged with unholy delight. The Great Serpent had its ultimate weapon, one that would liberate it from thousands of years of imprisonment in the Weaver's webs. l11at was the first great herald of the Final Days. And now, the end of the world is right around the comer, my friends. But now, we're stronger than ever before. Our time of glory wasn't in the distant Impergium. We were gaining strength because the Apocalypse close at hand. Our children have been waiting, biding their time. Now the rats are swarming out of the woodpile. We're proud to be Garou! We're proud to be Bone Gnawers! And, Goddess bless us, I'm proud to be an American! 7#tJ 6'/;if '77#1141 Welcomed waitS for a round of applause. Twenty cold and starving men, women and wolt~es look back, unsure of what to say next. The spiritS have taken hold of their senses, and the spirits in Old Man O'Reilly's booze have overwhelmed them.

Teeth-of-the-Jackal returns with another bottle, and a huge grin on his face. The Ahroun is clearly pleased that the Recitation has gone so well. A few listeners start sniffing intently again, then notice the bag of cheeseburgers he's about to toss to the crowd.

Cliath,fostem, and the lone cub in the backstartpacingabit,like they're restless to tear into some meat. The Old Man's stew, on the other hand, has been dumped on the ground, unfit for even the rats. As the crowd gets worked up, Teeth smiles and speaks.

SO HERE WE ARE AT THE END OF THE STORY.

It's as though we've been asleep for about three thousand years, but Fat Man and Little Boy woke us up. We were supposed to watch over the human race, but even those of us who lived among them had failed.

So where the hell are we? Standing in an empty lot, talking about the end of the world. Drunk off our asses and freezing cold.

If our Galliard elder was here,l'd thank the Old Man for his socalled generosity, but he isn't. We've lived in cardboard, drinking cheap booze and dying for nothing. We've starved longenough. We shouldn't. We should act up. We should get involved. We've been talking all night, and that's what I've been hearing. The time of watching and waiting on street comers is over. Get on your feet! Feast on some meat!

How is the world going to end? You think the Wyrm's going to bust out of theW eaver's webs and destroy all creation?

Do you think the Weaver's going to strangle everything in her tight embrace and stagnate all living things into a cold death?

Is the madness of the Wyld going to wash over everything when civilization's destroyed? Or is the Apocalypse just the dawn of anew age, where everything's going to becreatedalloveragain?

WHO GIVES A SHIT! I ain't gonna live to see it, you ain't gonna live to see it, none of you are gonna live to see it! I live here and now! I'm alive, and I'm going to stay that way, no matter comes my way! We're gonna survive, even if we have to scavenge the bones of the carcass of the world!

For three thousand years, we have waited for the End Times. For three thousand years, we have endured shame and disgrace. Look into the fire, brothers and sisters! Look into the flames! That is what the world will look like, and soon!

You hear that screaming at the back of your mind?

That's Rat, calling you to war. You see where we're standing, where the parking lot used to be?That's the spirit world, the true shape of creation! You see your brothers and sisters taking the true form, the war form? That is your call to battle! BROTHERS AND SISTERS, LET THE REVEL BEGIN! THE END OF THE WORLD IS HERE!

Sunrise floods the Umbra at the dawn of a new day. A Garou fated to become the next tribal elder tosses tightly wrapped burgers to the crowd. Te.eth-of-the-]ackal's generosity is answered by a howl that resounds throughout the Umbra. His Philodox packmate, still wearing his leather jacket in Crinos form, seeks the scents of spirits. ready to lead a hunt in the Umbra -Murder-of-Crows howls in triumph. Gathered around the Umbra! fire, Crinos Garou raise their voices, stomp their feet, and praise their new tribal elder. A Ragabash patriot unfurls his American flag as a Theurge rattles tin cans in celebration. The tribe is of one mind again. Life among Rat's brood continues.

• • • Beneath the empty lot in the physical world, an old man in a tattered coat lies in a sewer tunnel. His face is calm and peaceful, bearing witness to the end of a life filled with pain. A crow-spirit lands on the body, raises a taloned claw, and snatches a shiny fetish dagger from the body. After a brief feast on a gobbet of meat, it flutters away. Life in the shadows continues.