The Hood has three primary goals.

Hood to justice - largely for its violations of the Ban of Manbut even the threat of exile rarely dissuades them. The Hood has three primary goals. Robbing from the rich involves hunting down individuals known for their greed and exploitation. It's rumored that more than one Glass Walker has unintentionally made a "contribution" to their cause. Wolves in the Hood tend to master certain extralegal skills (namely, Stealth, Security, and Subterfuge). Camp elders usually "mark" the homes and territories of tyrants deemed worthy of punishment. Some are obviously Wyrm-tainted, but od1ers-such as slumlords, corrupt politicians, or various esoteric supernatural entities-are not. After a caper is done, the same Garou use their ill-gotten gains to help humans out of poverty, addiction and suffering. This is more than simply "giving to the poor"- the camp has its own particular version of tough love. Sometimes their efforts are particularly aimed at helping the occasional werewolf or his Kin keep himself from going over the edge. There's a limit to their charity, however. The Hood never gives a second chance to people who try to exploit their help or take it for granted. If the Hood gives you twenty bucks to buy clothes, and you spend it on cheap booze, the camp's attitude can change from charity to enmity in a heartbeat. The third ideal of this camp is actually protecting the homeless, or in many cases, the irmocent and undefended of a great city. In recent years, this has led to increasing violence between supernatural predators and the Hood. The Wyrm often preys on poor and suffering humans. After a pack has destroyed the spiritual evil in their midst, the Hood may move in to help restore the victim's lives to a sane and normal existence. This doesn't mean they're out to save everyonethe camp is far too street smart for that. From their point of view, each city is a dumping ground for humanity. They're just willing to take the time to salvage the few individuals who are actually worth saving. A few Bone Gnawers claim that Robin Hood himself belonged to their tribe, inspiring a myth that has survived for over a thousand years. Others claim the phrase "rob from the rich and give to the poor" was just a cheap bit of dialogue they ripped off from old movies. Nonetheless, the ideal endures. Sometimes a Hood volunteers his own pack to help further the camp's goals without their knowledge. They may think they're trashing the estate of a Wyrm-tainted industrialist, even while their ally knows he's just another mark. These do-gooders take their priorities seriously. If they offer to help someone, they watch over them to make sure they're getting results. If a Bone Gnawer wants help from the Hood, he betcer make sure he's not soakmg up cheap hooch, stealing from the wrong people, or spending his money in the wrong place. Ifhe's got a family, his kids better be in schooL or the Hood might just snatch them up and put them in a home where they'll be better off. Bone Gnawer Kinfolk are watched with twice as much vigilance. While Hoods may make a mistake from time to time, they learn to spot when someone's lying to them or ripping them off. (The Philodox Gift: Truth of Gaia is a popular choice among them.) The Hood gives, and takes away. It also protects its investments. If anyone else threatens one of their wards or charges, the Hood intervenes. Fluent in the language of the streets, they aren't afraid to confront loan sharks, street gangs, or even goverrunent agencies to make sure others don't undo their good deeds. This infuriates Garou elders even more, especially those who value "fighting the Wyrm" over the risk of revealing their own existence. Like the Frankweilers, however (and many other Bone Gnawers), Hoods believe that patrolling a city involves far more than hunting and killing the Wyrm's minions. Simply put, they give a damn. P.MTI-:#I'.t Runs-for-Cover, a Ragabash Rat Fink, has less than a minute to cell you what he knows: "We're screwed. If the stories are true, the Deserters took off on great Umbral quests to find a way to save the world. Instead, they found a glimpse of the way it's going to end. Maybe they've seen the pure evil that' swaitingtorise up and consume us all. Maybe they know how the Garou are all going to die. Whatever they saw, their elders ain't telling. They just kinda sit there, staring at shadows, crying not to peer beyond the Veil, and gibbering about the End. Doesn't the Utany say anything about this? Why do we let them suffer like that? Why don't we just kill them and put them out of their misery?" Camps come and go. They change and evolve, and the Deserters are no different. Decades ago, the Garou of this camp decided that they'd had it with the physical world. Surrounded by poverty, despair, and a dying planet, they fled into the Umbra. Over time, they became experts at navigatir1g the spirit world. Their elders led great quests for forgotten and mystical realms, seeking a paradise, utopia, or a refuge of the Wyld that could hide them from the commg Apocalypse. As darkness tightens its grip on the world, they still dream of fleeing reality like Rat Gafflmgs swarming from a sinking ship. Unfortunately, many of their greatest heroes are beginning to come to the same horrible realization: There is no escape. Wandering around the planet, the camp's cliath search for pathways to other worlds, both in the Penumbra and the physical realm. They spend more time in the Umbra than most werewolves, and even some spirits. Many scrounge around the Gaundet for shortcuts and gateways, looking for the right portal or passageway to the distant beyond to ensure their renown. Using this information, charismatic fostern undertake expeditions deep into the spirit world, sometimes followed by packs of enthusiastic and gullible Garou. Accessing such a gateway often depends on stepping sideways in the right aperture at the right time in the correct fashion, whether that involves shimming through a crumbling stone wall, running through a burning building, or leaping ir1to a public toilet. There are some Umbra! journeys only a Deserter or a madman (or both) will attempt. By the time a Deserter becomes an elder, he's either fled from reality or resigned himself to a life in the realm of flesh. In recent years, some of the camp's most renowned elders have started cominghome.They'vebeenrunningfromtheproblernsofmereal world for a long time, but for reasons no one outside their camp can fully understand, it's as though hundreds of them have decided it was time to converge back on Mother Earth. Spending so much time in the Umbra has driven some of their elders over the edge. Garou are creatures of both flesh and spirit, after all; werewolves who spend too much time ir1 the spirit world start to disconnect from reality. Most of these Umbra! veterans can be identified by the haunted looks in their eyes. The camp has no "leaders" as such, only elders who are reticent to talk of things they've seen, md no doubt were not meant to know. Bone GnawerGalliards tell horror stories of these elder's travels, although many of their tales are nonlinear, expressionistic, or just plain mad.