Deserters aren't simply homeless -

Deserters aren't simply homeless -

**of Note**

it's as though they don't belong anywhere. Some are afraid to go near places where Garou gather, eschewing septs and caerns with equal disdain.

Without the rites and rituals of their own kind, however, their madness grows. Others act as though they're still not all there, reacting to everything around them as though they were in an alien world. Telephones and televisions become as foreign to them as extradimensional artifacts. While Deserter elders have profound knowledge of the Umbra, many are reluctant to go back there for long. Outside the Velvet Shadow, their eyes dart about, or their hands shake, or they act as though something's ready to jump out at them from the shadows. When they do return to the Umbra, however, they often possess a great command of knowledge, lore, and legend, which they carefully parcel out to cliath foolish enough to follow in their paw prints.

Like werewolves of all camps, Deserters join packs with Garou of all tribes and breeds, yet they also demand the right to launch into Umbra! quests whenever it suits them. This gives them a reputation of being unreliable, but because of the Deserters' thorough knowledgeofUmbral cosmology, few packs would refuse their contributions and expertise. When they travel with followers of their own camp, they assemble in tightly knit packs - each member has a specialized role to perform. Deserters also quest with Garou from other packs, often after hearing fantastic rumors from their Umbra! colleagues. Anyone who brings a remarkable new tale ofUmbral adventure may be blessed ... or cursed ... with an offer to accompany Deserters on another fantastic voyage.

J<pJP:/ fVtr~r.t Walks-the-Earth, a Road Warder elder, shares w!Uit he knows: "You think the Wyrmis only foundnearourcaerns? Don'tcount on it. The Wyrm is everywhere, and far from our protectorates, it spawns undisturbed and unchallenged. The Road Warders are scoutS of the Garou Nation, one of several camps that searches the planet looking for evil. Maybe we aren't as fast as the Silent Striders, but by taking the long way, our camp finds what they're too busy running past to notice. If you're willing to rake the scenic route, I'm happy to rag along with you for a while."

All Road Warders have one thing in common: They hate to stay in any one place for too long. You'll find them on long bus rides cross-country, riding the rails on rusting trains, or languishing deep in the holds of tramp steamers. Hitchhiking is an art w them. A Warder may try to settle down, but it never lasts for long. Like the tribe's rabble, the Tagalong Gift is essential to themthey only join p-acks temporarily, and only when it suits them. Boon com pan· ions are often rewarded later with news far from the heavily patrolled territories of urban septs ... and further invitations w adventure.

Road Warders may not travel with the grace, style, or speed of a Silent Strider, but they don't really seem to care where they're going, as long as they're on the move. Many have a fierce devotion to the Rat Totem, and as part of this religion, maintain a fierce hatred of any werewolves who follow Owl.

The thought of serving the Owl Totem, or even helping her children, fills them with rage.

Warders also have a philosophical difference with the Silent Striders. While the latter group is renowned for covering great distances very quickly, Road Warders don't seem to give a damn where their destination is. The journey is always paramount. Most impor· tantly, they absolutely refuse to tie themse lves down to jobs as messengers, couriers, or diplomats. Like the rabble, they've dropped out of Garou society as much as they have from human society. Between their time in isolation and their exposure to many different cultures, they slowly develop odd habits, strange modes of speaking, and even a mounting rage that isolates them from cityfolk Garou until they stop running long enough to "catch their breath."

Long-distance traveling also results in some odd friendships and temporary alliances. While Road Warders may tty hard to stay away from Garou politics, they still care about the people awund them they meet on their travels. Like all Garou, they also need the company of their own kind, even if it's just for a few days. Typically, if they see a fellow traveler that's stranded, endangered, or exploited, they make it their business to get involved. When they finally make it to a tribal moot where they can relate their strange stories, this Code of the Road earns them quite a bit of Honor. Their stories also serve as a reminder that the world is much larger than the bawns of its caerns.

Warders have a habit of showing up unexpectedly just about anywhere. They may stop off at a sept dominated by Bone Gnawers for a few days, trading tales as chiminage for their brief stay. Some frequent the same stomping grounds from year to year, bringing random news of other notable Garou. Many uncover corruption spread by the Wyrm's minions far from the watchful eyes of a caern's elders. Following the communal instincts that make them Garou, a few set up their own temporaty stomping grounds with other Bone Gnawers, taking over an abandoned freight car, a Kinfolk's van, or even a crosscountry bus for a week or so to perform appropriate rites. Led by spirits, they may even come to the aid of Bone Gnawers (and their packmates) traveling far from the safe confines of a sept.

H$fo;% Oscar Spits-Far vents his opinion: "If we're the dregs of the Garou Nation, then the Hillfolk are scum that sinks to the bottom. They're poor, and they're proud, and they're horribly inbred. Here in the city, we've got culture and civilization. City wolves see the world as it is. HiUfolk live in the world as it was. They're living in the past, and they're hiding from the W)'Tl'll. You might as well just write them off."

A Hillfolk Garou spits a bit farther, and responds: "Cityfolk think they know everything. Our kith and Kin been getting by in the wild for centuries, since the days of the mountain men.

I know the old stories, and the old ways. The fads in the cities come and go. My education comes from survival in the wilderness, not that crap on the teevee. I can SUTI!ive withoutaceUphone, a supermarket, ora dumpster. I hunt what I eat and stand by my family. That's more than I can say for those damn city wolves."

The Hillfolk are a camp of rural Bone Gnawers. Rather than enduring scorn and poverty in the big city, they've learned to live and survive in the wild. Hillfolk families are even more extensive than those of their urban Kin, and twice as territorial. The thickest concentration is spread throughout the Deep South, particularly in the Appalachians. The camp lives much as it has for generations, shunning all the trappings of the modern world, including modern technology and biased education. Instead, they tell the same stories and sing the same ballads their ancestors did, hidden from the evils of the modern world.

Sadly, outsiders often see the camp as the embodiment of all of the worst "hillbilly" stereotypes imaginable. Some claim that the Hillfolk families are so inbred that they hide entire packs of metis.

Supposedly, Hillfolk mate with the same Kinfolk families from one generation to the next, largely in an effort to breed more "true Garou." Marriage with outsiders is accordingly discouraged. T raditional Garou legends and Southern folk tales are more immediate to their lives than "book learnin'," but by modern standards, they are considered ignorant and uncivilized. Since the mid-twentieth century, well-meaning humans have tried to raise the local standard of living, but the camp has resisted this efforts with equal fervor, seeing it as the eradication of their own unique culture.

Hillfolk are also infamous for their most potent creation: true moonshine. This legendary creation gets its name from its supernatural properties. During the full moon, Bone Gnawer "white lightning" is infused with the spirit of the Wyld, granting it mystical power. It is rumored that even ordinacy humans may gain brief glimpses of the Umbra after partaking of this heady brew. It is also rumored to be the one substance that a Flanna can't shake off with the Gift: Resist Toxin. For these and other reasons, Hill folk use the Delirium to scare off "revenuers" and others who pry into their secretive activities - leading to many of the horror stories and stereotypes mentioned above.

Outsiders never learn how much the Hillfolk revert to their lupine forms when roaming their isolated territories, although the South has seen an increasing number of red wolves in recent years.

The camp is also well versed in faerie lore, often because their largest protectorates are close to changeling freeholds. While they may be living in the past, their society has endured long enough that the collapse of mcxlern civilization may leave it relatively unscathed for a while-an idea that fits well with the Bone Gnawer tribe's ideals. 7#tJ fiv4'Hfl Six-Pack, an Ahroun of the Swarm, spews bile: "I ain't hUling. I'm waiting. Waiting for the time to strike.

Waiting for the call of my God. The other tribes can blather to each other about how we're laz-y, how we're weak, how we're doomed to die. Let them waste their breath. I've been biding my time and stockpiling in my basement. Food. Ammo. Explosives. The other servants of the Rat God have been waiting, too. When Rat screams, we'U answer him inafrrestorm of blood and thunder."

One of the reasons the Bone Gnawers are often treated with disdain is their attitude towards war. Great warriors honor those who strike first and strike hardest. As the tribe's name suggests, they have a habit ofletting the "greatest share of the kill," as the Litany demands, "go to the greatest in station." Garou who aren't interested in being "gloryhounds" must be content to gnaw on the bones that remain. Thus, there is a common stereotype that Bone Gnawers are not as eager to charge into battle as other Garou, valuing survival over the glory of battle.

Like many stereotypes, it's not entirely correct. Rat, the tribe's totem, is a totem of war. Rat's children learn many subtle and deceptive tactics in battle, some of which are considered "dishonorable" by the Get, the Talons, and their allies. These methcxls don't earn as much Glory, and they certainly don't earn Honorbut they work. There's a huge difference between Silver Fang duelists and Bone Gnawer srreet fighters and saboteurs.

Guerilla assaults, ambuscades and assassinations, sabotage and U4'r6"$r.t Hunger drives sane people to desperation. The ManEaters were originally a cannibal cult within the Bone Gnawer tribe. Most of irs "converts" were Garou who had succumbed to frenzy too often. Thanks to vigilance and ingenious rites, the Bone Gnawers have shattered any actual imersepr organization of this hidden society. After the incident at the Dandelion Hill Sept in 1996 (as described above), a fair number of Gnawers have systematically hunted and killed their amhropophagous breth· ren. Still, the Man-Eaters continue to hang on. Although Theurges have developed the Rite of Man-Taint to hunt down Garou who have consumed human flesh, ManEaLcr~ have rc~pontled by being craftier and more secretive in their methods. Few are foolish enough to join a sept, although any major city may harbor one or two of them among rhe local rabble.

There is, however, at least one brutal exception that proves that these ghoulish werewolves can still gather in numbersthe Man-Eaters of Cairo. Unknown to the rest of the tribe, a virulent outbreak of a disease called Jackal Fever infected Cairo's Bone Gnawer population with a gnawing hunger for, among other things, human flesh.

Though the fever has passed, the cravings remain, with the result char Cairo is home ro a larger Man-Eater population than has been seen anywhere else. Needless to say, this would be a terrible concern to the rest of the tribe if they knew about it. subterfuge are all radike tactics. Why risk your life in a straight-up fight when the fate of the world is on the line? It's not as though the Wynn is going to fight fair, after all.

One camp of Bone Gnawers, nicknamed "the Swann," serves as Rat's teeth in the war against the Wynn. As masters of Rat's tactics, they specialize in dirty fighting and underhanded strategy. Yet as Bone Gnawers, they place the needs of their tribe over the politics of the Garou Nation. All the politics of that antiquated society are distractions to them.

When they show up at a caern, they're ready to fight. Some Bone Gnawers claim that the camp won't fully mobilize for any event short of judgment day itself.

Tribal elders call upon the Swarm when the politics of compromise prove useless. The Swann has many allies among the rabble, concealing their true strength in numbers until they need to strike with full force. The camp also has its own secret leaders, who typically contact the camp's heroes, "Rat's Teeth," through spiritual servitors. The tribe's elders disavow the Swarm's activities -as with many other camps, they award Renown at tribal moots, not caring for public perceptions of Glory and Honor.

Some of the camp's followers remain distant from the rest of the tribe for religious reasons: they interpret the tribal totem differently than most Bone Gnawers. Rat is not a skulking coward fleeing for cover; for the followers of this camp, the Rat God screams of the need for war. (See "Totems" in Chapter Three for the horrific derails.) Hearing the voice of the Rat God is an intensely personal experiencethus, it is possible for a Bone Gnawer to have a spiritual connection to this rotem, and answer its call, even while he has dedicated himself to another pack and pack totem. (The character only receives benefits from his pack totem, however.) Even when the Swarm is not currently defending a sept in wartime, its followers carry out regular missions of sabotage and urban terrorism against their totem's enemies. Some of the Rat God's most fervent warriors only associate with the Swarm camp in secret, spending most of their time as upstanding citizens in a Garou caern.

Camp followers train for the day when the Swarm's true strength is needed. Following the requests of their elders, they harry their enemies with many swift, surgical strikes. One of the Swarm might receive the request to wound a specific target at a precise time, hopefully eliciting help from his packmates.

Sometimes they receive messages carried by rat-spirits on behalf of their tribal god, coordinating complicated strategies only a Bone Gnawer would understand. Weakening the Wyrm with a thousand bites and slashes, the Swarm waits until the right moment to send in pack-attacks of heroes. It is rumored that the Swarm may even be interested in striking at less supernatural targets, resorting to ecoterrorism or corporate sabotage in many areas of the United States.

Werewolves are legendary because of their feral instincts and shocking acts of violence. Yet their law and culture make them something far nobler - they make them Garou. Even among the Bone Gnawers, the Litany helps werewolves maintain at least the pretense of civility. Many have run into trouble with human law at one time or another, but Garou law is notably different.

Much to the amusement of the lupus, humans try to trap the law in rules and legislation, endlessly arguing over the words of the law rather than its spirit. Garou don't have the same kind of written heritage that humans do. The Litany is as much a set of precedents as a set of rules. Great Philodox can justify their interpretation of the Litany by citing situations where it was tested decades, centuries, or even millennia ago.

Thus, when the Fianna sing the whole paean of the Litany, it includes tales of great trials and tribulations throughout the history of the Garou Nation.

Unfortunately, for these reasons, Garou law is biased against the Bone Gnawers. When Philodox and Galliards speak about great heroes, too often the Bone Gnawers are overlooked. The names of heroes are remembered; the names of sidekicks, outsiders, and peasants are not. In some of the greatest precedents of the Litany, Kinfolk and Bone Gnawers are barely remembered as defendants, while Shadow Lord litigators and Fianna orators are the heroes rushing to their defense. When the Litany is argued case by case, point by point, Philodox remind the tribe of its shame. Only a few have the courage to stand up and oppose such prejudice.

This bias is another reason why tribal moots are important to this tribe - Bone Gnawers are more likely to find justice when they approach their own merciful Tribal Mothers and Fathers than when they crawl before the elders of the nearest sep[. Because the tribe values deeds over ancestry, an outcast may be judged by what he's done in this lifetime, not what Garou ancestors did centuries ago. No matter how you deconstruct the letter of the law, the tribe is keen! y aware of the separation between the Litany and justice. ~/n~/F# [The excerpts of the dialogue that follows were recarded at a moot held at the Sept of the Green in Manhattan; the notes you're reading were later transcribed /ry one of Simon Gentle's Glass Walker Kinfolk. Zachary Ellison, a Shadow Lord, has been asked to evaluate whether the Bone Gnawer rabble of Manhattan should be held accountable far recent violations of the Litany. l tis a dangerous preceden.t, far the rabble are not regarded as citizens of their septs, even though they hide within the protectarates of the caerns. The outcarne of this hearing wiU influence whether all of the city's Bone Gnawers should be invited to attend moots at the caern.) Zachary Ellison, Shadow Lord Philodox, addresses the sept: Honored sept leader, tribal elders, and esteemed representa· rives of the Garou Nation: We have gathered at this moot today to consider the role the Bone Gnawer rabble shall play in this sept.

My tribe, the Shadow Lords, has been diligent in detailing the Bone Gnawer tribe's numerous violations of the Litany, particu· larly among the "rabble." I shall repeat for you what I have heard, for even I find it shocking. Before I am done, you will see why we must forbid them to attend the moots of our sept.

Allow me first to praise Anwar Huskar, of)onas Albrecht's court, for gathering so much of this information. He has traveled across the entirety of New York State for precisely this purpose.

And before I begin, let us consider Victor Bonecrusher, the foolish metis who stands opposite me. He has the temerity to defend a tribe of cowards and scavenging curs who would vitiate the strength of our caerns for the sake of their own survival.

By the time I have given you my thirteen arguments, you will see why these rabble should not be admitted to our sept again. They have refused to attend our gatherings. Furthermore, they have not earned the right to stand beside the worthies I see arrayed before me ... or even the impudent metis that openly speaks out against me. t14~~tJ%tr#"..NIJ/".M4/IJ IVJffi t14~~~ Zachary Ellison, Shadow Lord Philodox, repeats the arguments of his tribe: My lord sept leader, I have found the Bone Gnawers within our protectorate to have ignored the first precept of the Litany with impunity. Our scouts have repeatedly found metis of the tribe sheltered within the ranks of the rabble, sheltered from their obligations to patrol and defend the septs their parents shamed with acts of incest. It is well-known that the Bone Gnawers have more metis than any other tribe. By breeding indiscriminately, the tribe increases its own ranks, demanding the privilege of a voice within our septs, yet neglecting the obligation of their duties to them. Thus, if we continue to allow rabble into our sept, we will find our ranks swelled with indigent met is that refuse to fully carry out their responsibility to the Garou Nation.

Victar Bonecrusher, metis Bone Gnawer Philodox, defends his tribemates: Our Litany does indeed state restrictions on the mating of Garou. Bur if this crime has been committed, it is ridiculous to punish the children of these unions, especially by an act as extreme as exile from a caern. They are blameless. They are born innocents, and yet they suffer abuse throughout their lives. If you can prove a Bone Gnawer has bred with another, bring both of them forward and we will put them on trial. If you actually believe the rabble are hiding as part of a conspiracy to outbreed the other tribes, then by all means, you must encourage them to come into the caern where we can watch them more closely. And if you feel that the metis are not working hard enough to defend thiscaern, then you must welcome them as equal brothers and sisters in the caern, not persecute them because of a crime their parents committed years ago.

The Reality: As the Shadow Lords claim, the Bone Gnawers watch over more metis than any other tribe. Some are castoffs, bastards adopted from other tribes. Others are the tribe's own children, the result of a cold night or a frightened young warrior who thought he wouldn't live to see tomorrow. Regardless of the punishment visited on the parents, Bone Gnawers treat their metis with a great deal of tolerance. The tribe's metis still take on some of the most thankless and grueling tasks in the tribe, but some are almost treated as equals.

The tribe has a rather extreme view of sex with their own kind: the only real crime is getting caught. While few Bone Gnawers would admit this openly, long, lonely hoursoflivingon the street sometimes drive them to seek sympathy and comfort.

This doesn't mean that they intentionally breed packs of metis the crime is still punished by the Garou Nation. However, Bone Gnawers quickly learn to prepare for such an eventuality.

Simply put, even the most uncivilized lupus learns the value of a little protection. Many aren't terribly open (or open-minded) about sex, preferring to keep their liaisons furtive and transient.

Save perhaps for the Children of Gaia, other werewolves are horrified by this idea. On the few occasions where an act of" incest" is performed, the tribe as a whole is reviled for such attitudes. From the Bone Gnawers' point of view, comforting another werewolf isn't a crime. Admittedly, this has created something of a double standard, since getting pregnant (or getting someone pregnant) still is. In the few septs where Bone Gnawers have some modicum of political influence, the crime is often punished by exile from the sept. By contrast, in caems where Bone Gnawers are treated like serfs and peasants, the punishment is often death or ostracism from the Garou Nation. t::'Pm/4/ ffiP IV.JII'Hf IV~hJ(/11~ # ZJ/1111~ 4'4 fV~,;~~v11~ # BhJII¥/ Zachary Ellison accuses: Bone Gnawer cowardice is legendary. In previous moots, I have detailed to you how the local Bone Gnawers have consorted with Wyrm·tainted Ratkin, conspired with Leeches, and even brought these Wyrrnspawn into their tribal moors! I have evidenceofso-called "Rat Finks" trading information with Nosferatu, an act of treachery I have heard blamed on the Shadow Lords, but without similar proof. They have suffered for their lapses in judgment, reaping the betrayal of their treacherous acts, but we have suffered even more for their complicity with the Wyrm. Yet they continue to make such alliances! Would you have them bring the taint of the Wyrm into our sept as well?

Victar Bonecrusher responds: