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1~~ .... ~ .. -.~~~ .... ,.,~ ...... ~ .. ~ .. ~ .. wrr~•--~ .. 1&~·~=~ .... 757.,....,.,., az~~~~~~ .. 1N .. % :0'_plhj! "Help not Man fO't his surviool unless it threatens ours. Hurt not Man unless he threatens us. KiU not Man fO't food unless we might perish." -The Ban of Man, Barcelona, 1540 Our elders called fora series of tribal moots, a Piping to call all the Bone Gnawers together. In Europe, the largest of these gatherings was outside Barcelona. Across the continent, all the most honored and revered of our kind begged, borrowed, and stole to get to that moot. Some followed Umbral tunnels unearthed by Ratkm, some skulked into the gathering with "outside help," many soared through the heavens to join us by moon bridges, and countless packs walked, ran, or shambled across d1e countryside to join their brothers and sisters. The ones who answered the call were only a fraction of our whole family, but regardless, for the first time, ever, we actually seemed like a tribe - at least, as the Galliards tell the tale. Then the talking started, first in a babble of dozens of European languages, then in a horrible din of muted snarls and howls, and finally in one overwhelming euphonious outbreak of the glorious High Tongue. The elders skulked underground, presumably to get away from the noise. When they returned to the surface, they seemed ... changed. The eldest among them then gave a glorious speech we would never forget. That was the start of the Bar1 of Man: three sentences that would be repeated at tribal moots until the end of time. The tribal elders didn't have a problem with us living so closely with humans, but it was clear we couldn't risk the survival of the whole tribe to help humans who couldn't help themselves. The elders knew of the Hood's idea that we should act as vigilantes. It was clearly idiocy. lf we acted like the monsters oflegend, they were certain men would hunt us like them-or more importantly, hunt our Kinfolk, seek out our caems, destroy our supernatural allies, and kill off everything even faintly tinged with anything resembling magic. Help not Man fO't his surviool unless it threatens ours. Hurt not Man unless he threatens us. And then there was the last stricture, the one that caught a lot of us by surprise. KiU not Man for food unless we might perish. Now, I know just about every Bone Gnawer has heard a tale of a Garou who succumbed to temptation, hunting the very humans Gaia trusted us to protect. During the full moon, raging Ahroun have been known to give in to their most bestial impulses, killing innocents and savoring the taste of fear in their flesh. Lupus Garou who have succumbed to the taint of the Wym1 often attack humms around them in the fury of their frenzies. The legends are old as the Garou themselves, but those poor Bone Gnawers gathered in Barcelona, they had no idea the problem was so common that it would lead to Rule Number Three. #;fr ffit, fp~~ Not everyone agreed with the Ban of Man. The elders upheld it, but many of the cliath defied the first two strictures. After the passion of the elder's speeches faded, many set to argue about what the Ban really meant. In most septs, the message was clear. The tribe was supposed to look CA'"-"'pfer-O"'e: TAe!3'"-d Old 0'"-ys out for its own, and the humans would have to take care of themselves, as the Concord implied. No more finding food for the hungry to eat. No more protecting places where the homeless could sleep. Oh, and be a bit more cautious at spawning Kinfolk while you're at it. Unfortunately, too many Garou couldn't place the survival of their own race over the needs of their friends and families. Younger Garou learned to be a bit more secret in their associations. Since that time, there have been rabble among us who live closer to humanity than their own kind. Because of the ftrSt rule of the Ban, these lowlifes have shunned their own people, becoming more distant from their septs. To them, their families are the ones they know on the street. I can understand this to some extent. In multi tribal caems, the sept elders haven't done much more than treat them like garbage, so the rabble end up running with their own packs. They hang around the cacm a while to learn their Gifts and rites, but if the sept doesn't play fair by them, they'd set out on their own, in little packs of two or three Garou. Once they were living surrounded by humans, that meant that anything that threatened Man's survival threatened their own. To this day, in any city with an urban caem, you'll find a lot of Bone Gnawers who live within a few days journey of the bawn of the sept, but are wary of approaching the heart of it for long. The second rule of the Ban almost set off a revolution within the tribe. Hurt not Man unless he threatens us. From that moment, Garou vigilantes became outlaws from their own tribe. You've heard the arguments against this, no doubt. A hero stands up for what he believes in, the Hoods say, even if the law or the Litany says different. Say, where did that hooded fellow get to, anyway? Cowardly freak. Whether there's Wyrm-taint present or not, when the strong exploit the weak, they claim its our duty to Gaia to intervene. I can also see some sense in this, up to a point. Anything that hurts the homeless and the defenseless, they say, is going to come around to hurt us next, not to mention our Kin. And I can see from your some of your reactions that you might actually believe that. Although a few elders might secretly support the Hood, no one's going to openly accept what the Hood does. That's why so many heroes joke that there's another rule in the Ban of Man: And if you do, don't get caught. The Hood is still alive today, and elders still cite the Ban as a way to track it down -as they should. Then there's thereallysinisterpartofthe Bar1: KiUnotMan for food unless we might perish. As far as we can tell, the Bone Gnawers who defied that part of the law took their own drastic measures. A way from the septs, the packs of Garou set out to find their own hunting grounds, where human life could be taken easily. Hidden from the Garou Nation, this rabble set up their hidden homes, using the Gifrs Gaia gave them to protect Man to prey on him instead. Humms found the remains, stripped of flesh and gnawed to the bone. The Man-Eaters had no respect for law or Litany. Many of their cannibal cults turned to the Wyrm. Don't believe what you hear. They still exist, and we still hunt them down and destroy them. i1'..yt;GM/.hh trm/ i1'..yt;Gik//PF; On each of the continents, Bone Gnawers gathered for more of the Great Pipings. The practice worked so well that tribal moots became more common. The tribe is still disorganized, but it also knows the value of a tribal moot each month -even if everyone doesn't show up. Packs offostern Garou took to the idea so well that they started traveling to tribal moots in other cities, across the European continent, and in some cases, around the world. Maybe it seemed like an easy way to gain a name for themselves, or at least learn more about the Garou Nation. Or maybe it meant more chances to hit the Garou Nation up for food and crash space. The Age of Exploration spread our brothers and sisters farther and farther around Gaia's world. Garou from different partsoftheplanetfinallystaned talking to each other. Multitribal septs thrived. Ambitious heroes struggled to raise a series of moon bridges that leapt from one continent to the next. Perhaps the Bone Gnawers benefited the most from this passion for exploration. Rat's children all over the world came out of hiding long enough to meet their distant relations. Don't think we were just in Europe and Africa - when a Bone Gnawer runs, he runs far. We thrived, but a few other tribes suffered. For a start, many of the European Garou had an intense interest in the New World. When the great continental quests began, it hadn't been that long since the Europeans "discovered" it, even though the Pure Onesthe Uktena, Wendigo, and Croatan - had been living there for millennia. For the European tribes, it was a prime opportunity to seize power and control some ancient, mystical, and powerful sacred sites. The tribal mothers and fathers wanted a piece of the action, too. A few Bone Gnawers, led by one of our most esteemed and generous heroes, Corazon Bitefmder, managed to sneak aboard a ship or two and see what all the ruckus was about. The scouts that came back told stories our Galliards spread throughout Europe. I'msure the tales became more elaborate the farther they spreadjust like that Robin Hood bullshit. The New World was supposed to be a land of plenty, a world of opportunity, a primal wilderness untouched since the dawn of time. European Garou called another Piping, this time in Lisbon. Cliath said that they were tired of getting kicked around by the elders of other tribes. Away from the elders, they claimed it was a chance for the Bone Gnawers to create some septs of their own. Tribal heroes saw it as a chance to gain renown. The elders of the other tribes promised the moon in exchange for our support, offering acceptance, new hope, and a new home. That stance fostered a lot of resentment later - in the end, the elders found power, and we didn't get much except a change in scenery. Again, the Bone Gnawers were left to pick through what others didn't want. Nonetheless, when the American colonies started, we bought into the idea, bigtime. Corazon Bitefinder led our tribal exodus to the New World. We didn't have much say who the sept elders would be in Europe's "mulitribal" septs, so we voted with our feet. We left. When the Pure Ones didn't want to let us into the New World by moon bridge, we set out to sneak onto as many ships as we could. For many, getting on board wasn't much of a challenge-we've always had Kin traveling the seas. Of course, the Uktenaand Wendigodidn't care for what we were doing. All we can say in our defense is that we didn't tty to kill them off like the Europeans did. For us, the original Ban of Man was still in effect ... for the time being. It had to change and grow, just as the tribe did. The surry teller turns tO a Ragabash waiting nearby, as if his cue had been carefully planned. A young, fresh-faced Garou with blond hair and blue eyes smiles in response. The poor cliath looks Uke he's terribly out of place, as if he's been slumming in the wrong part of town. With great ferwr, he launches intO what's clearly his favorite part of the tribe's hisrory, as though he's been invited tO teUitatseprs across America ... and perhaps in no other country. Welcomed-rothe-HaU-of-Presidenrs, Ragabash patriot, redtes his surry. 7#dAhltJr/&rn-.A>tJt:tP#/ft'PF; AMERICA. WE'RE AN AMERICAN TRIBE. No matter where we came from, we came together in America. And in 1776, when the spirit of revolution took hold in the colonies, our tribe proudly answered its call. America was a young country, a land freed from the traditions of the Old World. For the Bone Gnawers, that was a powerful ideal. We never had much of a stake in the Garou Nation before then, certainly not in Europe. But in America, our hom ids knew they could build a country of the people, by the people, and for the people, a country where all men were created equalat least in theory. We've fought for a lot of ideals, as you can tell, and we've certainly suffered when they've failed. But we believed in America's cultural meltingpot. W e took to the notion of democracy, an idea we've had as part of our culture since way back in Athens. As the spirit of revolution rook hold, young cubs were tempted to defy the Ban of Man by standing on the front lines of the fight for freedom. Enough Bone Gnawers got fired up-and slapped down by their elders - that the tribe had to find a solution to this enthusiasm. The tribe had to fmd a way for its cliath to work around the pesky Ban without rending the Veil and revealing our existence. So the American elders proposed a revolutionary idea: lfGarou were to fight in the Warfor Independence, they'd have to do it in Homid form. That way, for the homids, anything that threatened Man'ssurvival rlueatenedours as well. We'd be hurting Man, too, but he could hunusjusrasbad. It's ashame the mer is and lupus couldn't follow this same option, but gosh, they still knew the homids were fighting for all of us. Upholding the Ban this way became a matter of honor, a sacred pledge. This time, we wouldn't take the cowardly way out. There'd be no Umbra! raids on British supply lines, no shifting intoCrinosasa way to scare away troops, and certainly no wimesses to Bone Gnawers shrugging off gunfire. A mortally wounded Garou could still step into the Umbra and shift to keep from dying, but once he did, honor demanded that he drop out of the fray. If he couldn't stand, he'd have to return to his sept and abandon his cause. In a sense, the war almost became a game to usa deadly, glorious game. This time, we'd be playing by the same rules as the American patriots.