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that? The Glass Walkers have bound themselves in debt and obligation. They're wrapped up in the trap of civilization, but Rat's brood has been severing her webs ever since.

The idea of a whole sept of us working together was A~kh/" tf~ tr.f.R/ .A't7.111d ludicrous. The Garou Nation scornfully looked down on us, but they couldn't stop us from gathering together in packs.

The strongest werewolves lurked in the wilderness, so it was natural for us to take to the streets, feeding off the refuse of A ./AJtr#f! IJ/.f5t7,NI t1b11MJ~.I 'Tis Gaia's own truth. As our tribe is not overly selective -present company excluded, of coursejoining the tribe is an easy choice for some. A wolf without a tribe is a sad and lonely creature. Until he completes his Rite of Passage, he can't learn the secret lore of a tribe, study for its tribal rites, or learn its tribal Gifts. At best, he can receive a heartfelt invitation to a festive gathering like this one. If he forsakes his heritage, the trials and tribulations are severe, but if he accepts the easy alternativebecoming a Bone Gnawerthe road ahead of him becomes smoother. Even Ron in and other rogues fmd their way back into the Garou Nation by joining Rat's brood.

And what a life it is! No more struggling to live up to your ancestors' expectationswe have none! Every dumpster overflows with a feast! Simple cardboard becomes a castle! No matter how lowly, within our tribe, any man can become a king, and any woman a queen! And here at our glorious moots, everyone feasts ... even if the crap d'jour is macaroni and cardboard. .f~~.f~ Ours has been a long and arduous struggle, yet as we've marched across time, we've picked up a motley assortment of second-hand heroes along the way. Attend our Galliards' moots, and you shall see that the greatest tales have Bone Gnawers. You'll see us as spear carriers in the Viking epics of the Get, peasants in the brooding Transylvanian sagas of the Shadow Lords, or even as humble subjects in Russian Silver Fang caerns. Great Gaia, I've evem heard tell of Australian Bone Gnawers slumming with the scavengers of Tasmania, as distant cousins of the Bunyip.

From an early age, we learned where we figured in the hierarchy of dominance and submission. We were the peasants, the commoners, the rabble, the grunts, and the unwashed masses. And we still are. Wherever you find Garou, you'll find stories of Bone Gnawers doing their dirty work.

Remember these truths as you hear our humble tales.

When someone tells you about our exodus from Africa, or our invasion of America, remember that's just part of the story.

We've got Kin everywhere, and we look out for our family.

We're just a bit more common in some places than others. 4r&C#kt The Frankweiler strides over r.o a pile of discarded machinery.

His "stagehands" lurch for ropes, erectingawallofcardboardwith a curious etching in crayon and chalk: a stTeet scene from a Babylonian city ... or at least a Ragabash conception of one.

Sound a bit disorganized? Indeed, it was. Until we gathered in the larger cities, we weren't really organized at all.

Before we found such glorious places as the one you see here, we cowered and crept in caems belonging to the other tribes.

Woe for the fate of our lost homelands! Woe and misery!

CAt:.h..pte.r 0h..e: TAe !3t:.d Old Ot:.ys civilization. For in the cities, food spilled out into the streets, and the rats swarmed to feast.

Yet for many, despite the abundance of garbage to eat, these were dark times. In the cities, we had no septs or caerns, so we ended up as one big family. Without a sept leader, the oldest and wisest Bone Gnawer would become the tribal Mother or Father to us all. You didn't earn an honor like just by living for a long time. You actually had to help the Garou living in the city, even the ones passing through it. By showing compassion to strangers, and generosity to friendsvirtues that Mother Rat still asks of us today - you could become a nobleman among the Bone Gnawers, no matter who or what you were in your youth.

In the biggest metropolises, friends, each auspice could have its own tribal Mother and Father - a rather rare practice today, but one that still exists. As part of your investiture, you could even proclaim your own title. A Ragabash Father might become a King of Fools, a Prince of Thieves, or a Lord of Beggars. A Theurge Mother could watch over a coven of cunning men and wise women throughout the city. And think of the costumes! Most Garou had no interest in the cities; thusly, we had the freedom to experiment with strange and powerful ideas.

The history of cities is our history. As far back as you can trace cities, you'll find our tribe. That's where the food is, where most of the human race lives, and for the Frankweilers, where the culture is. Of all the scavenger totems, Rat was the one most suited for surviving the Weaver's webs. If you read about ancient Babylonif you can read, that isyou'll read of Hammurabi's encounters with rats. That's because we were there in force. The Veil was in full effect.

Although the humans thought we were mendicants begging in the streets, we were really watching out for those who would prey on the human race. The strategy is as ancient as Mesopotamia: our scouts and warriors still spend hours and hours begging in the streets, and they're still watching. We may look like fools, but we strive to be saviors.

In Mesopotamia, the Glass Walkers watched human scholars master early languages, but we were the ones watching the streets. Yes, you'll fmd Glass Walkers in the ancient cities too, in one form or another, whether you call them Warders of Men, or Iron Riders, or Bronze Peddlers, or Concrete Chewers, or whatever they choose to be called this week.

Yet some things never change. If the cities are cesspools, then they're the scum that floats to the top. We're the scum that sinks to the bottom. They're drawn to wealth and power, yet we see it for the trap it is. And besides, the Wyrm works through greed and gluttony more than outright violence. Oh, did I say A stagehand gnaws at the ropes supporting the wall of cardboard, and it comes crashing down. Behind it, a brick wall is covered with a chalk drawing of a Roman coliseum. Grasping a wooden sword, the Frankweiler shouts his next invective.

Friends and countrymen, attend! The Weaver is everywhere! (Stab! Parry! Thrust!) Everytimeyouhavetostand in line, with every form you're dumb enough to fill out, with every bill you're stupid enough to pay, she spins her web of deceit to bind you. Soon you'll be anguishing about how to pay for your car bills, your espresso maker, your Franklin Mint miniatures! Soon you'll be blind to the world around you!

If only it were so simple. Let me catch my breath and explain. Living in the heart of humanity without succumbing to its society, we do what we can to keep the Wyld alive.

The Weaver loves conformity, but we've come up with some pretty wild ideas of how to break out of it. When democracy ~arne to ~thens, we latched on to a rather revolutionary tdea:_ vonng for our elders instead of having them fight, decetve and threaten each other for power.

Democracy was the sort of revolutionary idea the other tribes couldn't tolerate. Everyone has an equal say?The metis can speak as freely as the homids? Or Goddess forbid, we should treat all Garou as equal? Like so many other things, what they rejected, we accepted. Democracy was a way we could actually work together, instead of tearing our moots apart with violence. Besides, we got sick of being throated by the Get. (Heh! Just kidding, there, Teeth-of-the-Jackal!) By the time of Ancient Rome, we were a strong tribe, with strength in numberswe truly started helping each other. Once we got organized, we set to work helping humans as well. Not just helping ourselves, like the Glass Walkers did, but working with people who really needed us.

The tribe was a force to be reckoned with. That was a time when we actually warred with the Glass Walkers and Shadow Lordsand won from time to time.

The old tales say that Rome was built near the site of an ancient caem - even Romulus and Remus were nursed by wolves there. That made Rome's Sept of the Seventh Hill one of the first great urban caems, and we learned a lot while we defended it. Preserving the Veil became an art; learning from human politics became a science. Families of Bone Gnawers skulked in the catacombs and dark corridors of the city, feasted off the food the Romans discarded, and fought for epic causes.

Oh, and then there was the long-discarded ideal of actually giving a shit about the human race. Remember that? We fought to defend everyone, before we became so damn cynical and skeptical. Everyone should benefit from society, we said, and everyone should be free. That made our crusades against Roman slavery so wonderfully passionate -they weren't an option for us. They were a mandate, from the People, carried out by the Garou.

Roman Glass Walkers didn't give a damn, though. After all, dominating humans was all find and good for them during the Impergium. And Roman Shadow Lords? Forget about it!

They even treated their Kinfolk like slaves! But we still sing sagas of the great liberators of Rome, even long after the Sept of the Seventh Hill fell. I'm notmakingsomeoutrageousclaim l3o"'eq"'~we-rs that one of us was Spartacus or anything like thatalthough that would make a nice play, wouldn't it?- but I know that some of our Kinfolk were former slaves ... or taken as slaves ... or (ahem) the children of slaves who were especially grateful for their rescue, if you know what I mean, and I think you do. 11J~m:#rlbf Tossing his "Roman sword" away, the Frankweiler climbs a pile of rubble. The wind catches his cloak as he poses, declaiming to the embarrassed crowd ofGarou.

We couldn't stay in Rome forever. We were all over, and as the original tribe spread out through the world, we found brothers and sisters wherever we went, in spirit if not in blood.

Without a homeland, or even ancestry, the Bone Gnawers wandered wherever fortuneand misfortunetook them.

Since we didn't have homes, and we didn't particularly care about getting anywhere in a hurry, some of our kind spread across the world as sailors. After all, wherever you'd find ships, you'd find rats, so the Children of Rat weren't far behind.

Around the tum of the millennium, one of the largest groups of Bone Gnawers drifted all the way up to the frozen north-Northern Europe, that is. Because there were a lot of skilled Bone Gnawer sailors up there, it was only a matter of time before they started working with the Get. We serve the Garou Nation by supporting great heroes. On any Viking ship, you'll need a pack of Fenrir warriors on board chewing their shields, ready to raid, but you also need someone to do the grunt work. That's where we came in. Anyone cast out of their rigorous rites was welcomed by us as a brother or sister.

A lot of the great Fenrir epics have Bone Gnawers in them.

Even if we're just spear-carriers, or swabbing the decks, or pulling the oars, we do our part, even if our names and lineages aren'tsung as strongly as those of epic heroes. Why do you think those Viking epics recite the ancestors of heroes so much? The way I figure, it's a Garou thing. Bone Gnawers make a lot of partnerships like that. We don't seem to care if someone else gets the lion's share of the credit, as long as we get something out of the deal. Our kind has produced a lot of sidekicks and companions to great heroes. A worthy goal, I assure you.Itisour pleasure to serve. And it is a pleasure ro entertain you.

The humble narrator walks down from the pile of rubble, mingling with the crowd in now confidential tones. And as he turns, he Looks towards the next speaker ... gives a dramatic bow with a flourish ... and yields the stage.

HPPT//f.tt/&lfhl "WE HAD THE RIGHT IDEA IN ROME. WE NEED TOG ET ORGANIZED. This Galliard seems content to play the fool. I'm not. You think that because we're Bone Gnawers we shoulcl bow and scrape to everyone else? Should we really ~ the laughing stoek of the Garou Nation, like him?"

As the last taleteller steps aside, a young man in a hooded sweatshirt walks up to the fire. A few of the faces in the crowd Look surprised to see him there. As he Lowers the hood, the crowd can see the thin trace of stubble gracing the cop of his head, showing that it's been a while since he last shaved it clean. The battle scar on his left cheek hasn't completely healed, bearing tescimony tO the last knife he hadthrustathisface. Although the Garouaround him are brothers and sisters, he stares intently at them for a moment, showing that he's willing to stare down anyone who contradicts him. The Ahroun stands defiantly, like he has a point to prove, and begins to speak.

We shouldn't be fools. We're the strength behind the Garou Nation. If a Silver Fang sits comfortably on his throne, it's because we helped put him there. If a Shadow Lord laughs at us, it's because he's benefited from the information our Rat Finks have given him. But we've lost sight of the reason we're Garou.

Look at this poor sap. Living off garbage. Sleeping in the street in that smelly cloak. What's so great about being homeless? Dropping out of life? Freezing at night? Starving byday?We'veseen it up close. People around us dying a little each day. Day by day, they freeze to death. They starve to death. And if that's not enough, they rip each other off along the way. For what? Money? Power? Privilege? For nothing.

We're supposed to protect the world, and protect the people in it - even if the other tribal elders say we shouldn't. The folks in our tribe slum just about everywhere.

Because of it, the Garou howl that we're rejects and losers.

Don't believe it. They say we're cowards, bastards, lazy, selfish, or worse. Don't buy it. Don't forget the reason we stayed in the cities in the first place: to watch over mankind.

Let me be straight: I'm not dumb enough to try to save everyone. For most folks, it's too late. Most folks aren't worth saving. The world is corrupt, so people are corrupt. Ninety percent of everything is crap, including humanity. You think I'm joshing? Look at the folks around you. It's like a big garbage dump.

You can root around all day, but most of what you'll find is crap.

You disagree? I've seen it all. Rich men passing by poor men sleeping on the street. Kids getting shot, getting pregnant, getting hooked on junk. You can make jokes, Mr.

Cloak, but I'm not laughing.! can't just laugh off the world.

My world is different. In my world, when I walk down the street, no one looks me in the eye. They lock their doors.

They keep their distance. People on the sidewalks reach out for help, and all they get is nothing.

I don't want to play the fool. The Garou Nation's failed, and they're treating us like pariahs. If we're all equal, we should act that way.lt's up to us. It's time we acted up. You're only a bum if you want to be a bum. You want to be a hero?

Get to work. That's what our tribe should do.

We need a change. Where'd that elder go? Drinking himself to death? He's sick - should we put up with his sickness? Put up with his weakness?The fact that he doesn't really care anymore about anything but ancient stories?The way I see it, Garou used to actually give a damn. Just because we're called Bone Gnawers doesn't change that. You look at history, that's what we used to do. tJhd P"ni~41 Back in the Dark Ages, we got involved. We were Everyman, and we were everywhere. Wherever people worked, we worked along with them. When people starved, we starved along with them. All our tribe fought and died for in Ancient Rome fell apart during the Dark Ages. Even a thousand years later, that feudal system they had kept the poor in place and the rich in power. That's when our ancestors realized that nothing was going to change unless we changed it. We didn't just need to change our tribe. We had to save the world.

The meek were set to inherit the Earth, but they were going to get dirt unless they took what they needed. You know where I'm going with this? You've heard about the legend of Robin Hood? Robin had the right idea. I'm not going to tell you he's a Bone Gnawer. I'm not going to say he's Kinfolk. I'm not even saying he ever existed. I'm saying the legend got started because dozens ofGarou like him did what the stories said he did. The way I heard it, when a Bone Gnawer was out for justice, he'd raise his hood over his head to keep his identity a secret. And there's a whole Garou camp based on that traditionbased on that sense of honor and duty.

The Bone Gnawers didn't used to tum their backs on the world. We fought for anyone that had been cast out, kept down, or ripped off. As outcasts and runaways, we adopted our Kin. We fought beside people everyone else turned their backs on. They became part of our family, and their children became our Kinfolk. They became part of us, part of our blood. We lived everywhere no one else wanted, creating Kin and building the biggest tribe in the whole Garou Nationeven if the other tribes didn't know it.

We also fought the same enemies. Disease and starvation were two of our worst foes. Whenever plague hit, it often hit our Kinfolk first. Supernatural fuckers passed on the worst outbreaks, so the Bone Gnawers had to be the heroes who hunted them down. That was the time of the Plague Lords, Ratkin who came out of hiding to spread disease throughout civilization.

We also knew the folklore the peasants whispered. They spoke of"plague bearers," or nosferatu, who fed on human blood and spread disease. That's why we hid among humans-to protect them from dangers like that. Have we forgotten? /~ltl.!l/kh "YOU'VE FORGOTIEN. THERE'S A REASON WE DON'T GET INVOLVED."

A black-clad Philodox saunters from the shadows. A halfmoon is clearly painted on thearmofhiswell-wom, almost ancient, heavily battered leather jacket. The man in the hood instinctively takes a step back. The two exchange glances, almost growling, until the man in the hoOd looks away. Clearly the next taleteller has an edge, or perhaps a bit of influence in the right place. With a whisper, Murder-of-Crows picks up the next part of the tale.

You wanttotalkabout thedaysofthe Hood?I'll tell you about the results. Yeah, there was a time when we got involved in human affairs. Like anything else we've demanded, we paid dearly for it. Hey, don't think the Bone Gnawers were the only monsters stalking the night. The Glass Walkers got involved, the Leeches got involved, witches and warlocks and even the Good Folk got involved.

So it wasn't that remarkable when people actually started to notice all this going on. They weren't stupid. After a thousand years of civilization, they certainly weren't the sheep we thought they were during the lmpergium.

By the dawn of the Renaissance, humanity started to wake up from the nightmare of the Long Night. They were bright enough to realize how much of the supernatural world surrounded them, so d1ey fought back with ftre and flamerather like they did after theW ar of Rage, huh? Forget silver; fue stings like hell.

The geniuses in the Hood conveniently forgot one of the petty little details of the Concord: the need to hide from humanity. So throughout Europe, the inquisition against the night began.

The Burning Times purged Europe. I know, because I talked to Leeches who were there. I've even spoken to some of those "nosferatu" who fled into the darkness. Don't look so shocked. Quit your growling! We didn't have much of a choice. And you weren't there to see it. Like the Old Man said, we guess at what happened in our history because we weren't there. Vampires remember the Inquisition better than anyone else because they lived it. They weren't the only ones threatened by it. The Inquisition started out as a crusade against heresy and witchcraft, but within a few decades, the hunts threatened anyone allied with the night.

Okay, so maybe it went a little easier on us. We could hide in iliespiritworld. We could healourwoundsquickly. In fact, we could kill entire mobs of torch-wielding villagers without breaking a sweat. It was easy on us. But it was murder for our Kinfolk.

What evils do you think the humans saw when they found out about our Kin? Women laying down with wolves to mate wiili them, bearing their spawn. Men breeding with beasts in animalistic rites. Stalking demons showing up in the dead of night to claim their children from human parents. The hunters slaughteredour Kin, these same outcasts you said we bred wiilisofreely.

Werewolves had become monsters again, passing judgment on mankind, acting as Gaia's chosen again, and as a result, ilie Church, and ilie Inquisitors, and ilie hunters began to suspect that our broiliers and sisters weren't what they seemed.

We could run, but our Kinfolk couldn't hide. We could slaughter anyone who persecuted iliem, but when we did, the Delirium grew, and human hatred burned a bit hotter. And they took it out on everyone else. Millions suspected of witchcraft and heresy writhed on the flames ofbonfires. The Good Folk fled the world. Sacred groves were desecrated, caerns were violated, and an orgy of blood washed over ilie world.

It took almost a century for the flames to die down, and by then, we noticed how much had been destroyed. Gaia's spirits had thankfully taught our tribe how to hide, so the hunters would be blissfully ignorant of our existence. Many of our cubs and lost ones weren't as fortunate. Without Gaia's Gifts, they were easier prey. We sheltered many Garou during the dark times, and even had to make alliances with other supernatural creatures. In the end, our Kinfolk paid the ultimate price. This was Man's world, and if we were going to live in it, we would have to be a bit more cautious.