Everything

When a human performs an action proven to result in a specific effect, such as dropping something from a height to make it fall, he expects that it will fall every time barring strange circumstances. Wolves, likewise, expect the rules of the natural world to uphold themselves: when you chase the elk, it runs. When you bite the elk, it dies. When you mate with another, you get cubs. So why should this be any different for the Garou?

Natural law and spirit law may seem like separate concepts, but in the end, they are one and the same. The entire universe is made of spirits. The mechanical laws that govern the physical world, like gravity or energy conserva­ tion, come from contracts and edicts among the spirits written before time even began, or simply from the fact that a given spirit with a given nature exists. The sun rises in the east and sets in the west because Helios agreed to pilot his chariot thus every day. Species evolve over time because the forces of the Triat dictated long ago that it would be so. Even the various Realms of the Umbra each have rules that govern them, based on the spirits that live there and the purpose to which they were created. That beings from Earth can't necessarily recognize them as rules is irrelevant: spirits have natures, and they make pacts. This keeps reality rolling along.

It shouldn't seem so strange, then, that the Garou have their own sets of spirit pacts which ensure cause and effect. These pacts manifest for the Garou as rites: prescribed in­ teractions, either with each other or with the spirit world, that prompt prescribed responses. A cub who undergoes the Rite of Passage is recognized not only by his sept but by the universe itself as a newly made cliath. Enacting the Rite of the Loyal Pack enforces the pack leader as the representative of the pack, and ensures that the pack will always be better prepared than those who have not — as long as the leader acts in his packmates’ best interests. Even the collective unconscious of humanity remembers seeing shapeshifters perform rites and get results before the Veil fell over its eyes; human cultures are filled with rituals and ceremonies that mimic what the Garou and other Fera have done for millennia. They may not yield supernatural results, but the social and psychological effects work on humans just as well.

The Pact

Rites came to be long ago, when the shapeshifters first took their place as the stewards of Gaia's Earth. As beings of both flesh and spirit, they made a great Pact with the spirit world that would help them marry the two. In exchange for performing rituals that would in some way honor or recognize the spirits, those spirits would lend the Changing Breeds their aid. This differs from the deals an individual werewolf makes with a spirit to learn a Gift in its scope and magnitude. The original Pact made between Garou long-dead and the denizens of the Umbra still holds true today. Even a werewolf who has never spoken directly to a spirit in her life can enact the rites that have been passed down through the centuries, agreed upon so long ago that perhaps even the spirits who made the agreement no longer remember who was there or what was said. What they do remember — and what every spirit that has come into existence since then knows — are the laws the Pact laid

down. The power of that covenant resonates throughout the Realms so strongly that a rite enacted correctly cannot be ignored, even those rites that most spirits and Garou alike would rather didn't exist. Somewhere along the line, enough spirits made a pact to write the ritual into reality, and no one can gainsay it, not even to prevent Skin Danc­ ers from rising.

If a ritemaster fails to achieve the proper result, it's not because the spirits are feeling fickle that day. It's because she or her sept has missed a step somewhere, got the timing wrong, prepared the materials poorly or failed to catch the attention of the spirits at all with her lackluster performance. Occasionally, a rite may seem to have no result because some higher power has deemed it not yet meant to be. If a Rite of Renown fails, it could be an indication that the honored Garou hasn't been truthful, or that this step on her journey toward Glory isn't yet finished in the eyes of the spirits. If the Rite of the Winter Wolf fails, it's usually taken as a sign that Gaia still has work for the werewolf to do. Corruption can also get in the way, even if the Garou in question doesn't know it. If a human Kinfolk has un­ wittingly handled a scepter reserved for Rites of Accord without the ritemaster's knowledge, or a sacrifice made in a spirit's name was unknowingly touched by the Wyrm's taint, a rite can backfire spectacularly in the wake of an offended spirit's wrath.

The Pact even powers rites that don't call upon the spirits directly. It's easy to see how a mystic rite involves the spirit world, but some young Garou wonder how a Rite of Contrition or Gathering for the Departed has anything to do with the spirits anymore. Glass Walker elders sometimes respond by comparing the rituals to computer code. The first time the spirits agree upon a rite, those involved in its affirmation “write a program” to make a change to the world itself, such that each time a werewolf enacts these behaviors in just this way, the “program” runs — spiritual power kicks in automatically and gives the rite supernatural potency. If the werewolf performs a rite in a way that would anger the spirits, it triggers an exception in the “program” to return spiritual feedback. Most other tribes loathe this explanation and accuse the Walkers of defiling the sacred heritage of the People, but the metaphor tends to make plenty of sense to modern cubs.

The Pact even resonates beyond the original rites devised by the first shapeshifters. It governs all rites that did ever, do now, and will ever exist. If a Garou makes a proper case for a new pact to the spirit world and enough spirits agree, the new rite joins the recognized canon and they uphold it just like any other. Therefore, the breadth of possible rites is theoretically infinite, although in practice bound by the ability of the Garou Nation to finagle them into being. Questing werewolves can also rediscover rites lost to time, and the spirits recognize those too as legitimate, unable to

ignore them when performed well. Strangely, perhaps, a werewolf can also discover new rites for the first time out among the Realms of the Umbra. Spiritualists disagree on why this is possible. Some surmise that the Weaver's time is a massive loop, and that reality is repeating the same cycle over and over again. Thus, rites created in a previous iteration remain in the Deep Umbra as faint echoes of what was, and the Garou can rediscover them like anything lost to history. Others theorize that no rite begins as a thought in a werewolf's head, but rather that some spirit somewhere in the cosmos devises it instead, and that anytime a werewolf makes a case to recognize a new rite, she's really just catching wind of ideas already floating around in the Umbra. Some even believe that there might be other kinds of Garou on other worlds, devising rites that are later found by Earth's own werewolves and brought back. The spirits have never confirmed nor denied any of these theories; they simply abide by the Pact and do their parts.