Everything

A lot of people talk about sept and tribe as though they’re almost the same thing. When you hear someone mention about a ‘Black Fury sept’ or a ‘Child of Gaia sept,’ what they tend to mean is that it’s a sept dominated by that tribe’s history and culture.

However, that’s not usually the case. Outside of each tribe’s heartlands — and not all tribes even have those any more — most septs are pretty mixed. Especially in places like America, with its huge immigrant population, you’re unlikely to find a sept that’s all anything.

In reality, when someone says a ‘Glass Walker sept,’ what they usually mean is a sept that has taken on Glass Walker ways. They embrace using the Weaver’s tools against the Wyrm, they take on human customs, and place emphasis on respecting humans and their achievements. It doesn’t mean that the sept actually is entirely, or even mostly, Glass Walker. It could be that the sept was founded by Glass Walkers and no one has questioned their rules, even though another community has since come to dominate the sept. Maybe the sept has Glass Walker leadership who influence the sept’s culture even though actual Glass Walkers are now a minority. Maybe it’s an urban sept that’s smart enough to adapt to the world around them, rather than clinging to customs that don’t serve them in their current environment, even though it’s never had more than an average number of Glass Walker members

More to the point, a sept isn’t a Glass Walker sept — or a Black Fury sept, or a Child of Gaia sept, or whatever — because of its membership, even if one tribe dominates its demographics. Organizationally, culturally, and historically, every sept is its own entity. Tribes don’t found septs — Garou do. When they do, they make choices informed by their tribes, true, but once founded, a sept has a life of its own, and it will grow and change — or wither and die — based on its own virtues.

“I want to hear more about what they do to you when you screw up,” the kid said when Claire paused to collect her thoughts. Claire grinned wolfishly in the dark — the flame of her spirit Gift had long ago died away. The one flaw in her strategy was the possibility that the young Garou would become bored and disengaged. That didn’t seem to a problem.

“Why’s that?” Claire asked.

“Well, a lot of people talk about you like you are a screw-up, just because you’re gay. I want to know what these assholes will do to me if I screw something up. If I stick around.”

“It’s not always that bad,” Claire admitted. “There’s nothing in the Litany about sexual orientation, you know. Since I haven’t actually broken any rules, no one can do anything to punish me, at least not officially.”

“Then why does everyone give you shit?” “Not everyone; just some people, a vocal minority. And why? For some of them, it’s because of their own assumptions. They assume that just because I don’t like men, I’ll never do my duty to Gaia and have babies someday. They treat me like I’ve already dishonored my line and forsaken my family, even though I’ve done nothing of the sort.” Claire swallowed the lump in her throat — her father had done just that, almost right until his death — then continued. “For others it’s because of the biases they’ve picked up from the human cultures they were born in. You’d be surprised how often that happens, even in unbroken Garou lines like mine. I’ve had to overcome my own share of human prejudices that I discovered, when I really thought about them, were at odds with the Litany and Gaia.”

Claire laughed before she could continue. “And for some, it’s just a convenient excuse. They don’t like my policies and they’re looking for any reason they can to discredit me, or they’re nursing some grudge against my father and don’t want to see his daughter claim any honor for his family.

“But look, you want to hear about how the Garou handle crime and punishment. The first thing you need to understand is that the only law the Garou need is the Litany. Everything else is just custom…”

A lot of lost cubs I’ve spoken to have a hard time with the idea of the Litany. They’re used to some degree of secu-larity. Even the American Christian right wing wants laws inspired by their religion, not derived legalistically from the Bible. The idea of a religious law, literally interpreted, is pretty alien to most people on this side of the Atlantic.

The fact is, though, that that’s what the Litany is: a received tradition, a law handed down by Gaia to help us to govern our behavior. No loyal Garou truly questions the basic tenants of the Litany. Even the most radical Glass Walker might do something a little odd with the Litany, like make a Litany App for his smartphone, and he might chose some interpretations that would make Elder Catherine Standing Stone blanche, but he isn’t going to stop living the Litany as he sees it.

I don’t want you to think that every Garou is faithful. Sure, we all know that Gaia and Luna exist, but that doesn’t mean that we all worship them. Some Garou only give lip

service to the worship of Gaia and Luna and the Litany they gave us. Some Garou are mystically inclined and don’t care much about the law, viewing it as the least sacred and transcendent part of our religion. The fact is, though that the Litany contextualizes everything in Garou society. Even the ones who argue against the Litany have to do it in the Litany’s terms. Even those who try to twist the Litany until it justifies them doing exactly what they were going to do anyway — and yes, I include a lot of the Garou who give me trouble about my sexuality in that — have to do it by using the Litany. This is something that the Garou have in common with other traditional theocratic societies.

I understand if you’ve got a problem with it, coming from modern America, but you’re better off learning to deal with it than beating your head against the wall. It can be pretty jarring to go from a secular society to a traditional shamanistic theocracy. We’re an ancient people, a significant portion of our population started their lives as wolf cubs, and we’re pretty sure our myths are true because the world-eating devils we were made to fight are actually out there. If you judge us by modern standards you’re just going to confuse yourself.

It’s not so bad. The Litany is a lot like the Ten Commandments — you do know about those, don’t you? — in that they’re simple, straightforward, and hard to argue with. We can’t stop combating the Wyrm wherever it breeds, because

even if we wanted to, the Wyrm isn’t going to stop coming after us. You should respect the territory of another because failing to do so is a good way to get your butt kicked. And as much as I’d like to duel Elder Jeremiah and take back the position my father intended for me, I acknowledge that a time of open conflict is not the time to start infighting.

And just like the Ten Commandments, there’s a lot of room for interpretation. What counts as war and peace for purposes of challenging the leader? It makes sense that the leaders of the sept should get the best share of the kill — after all, if they’re worthy of their positions, they also accept the greatest share of the risk and danger — but what exactly does that mean?

Ultimately, deciding on the answers to these questions is something that each sept does for itself. These local customs aren’t carved in stone like the Litany is. They change with the times and the leader’s personal style — Gaia knows there are things I’ll change around here if I ever take this sept back for my family.

Local customs can be messy. They’re only rarely written down. Usually, they’re a sort of an informal oral tradition. For example, in this sept right here, everyone knows that “Submission to Those of Higher Stature” means Elder Jeremiah has the right to boss around Thomas and the rest of the kin who work in the kitchen, and anyone who gets in between will be punished for defiance. You did the right thing when you stood

up for them last week, but you also violated an unspoken local custom that everyone else knows better than to question. Some local customs are related to the tenants of the Litany, while others are made up whole cloth. When you find yourself in a new sept — especially if you’re only visiting — it’s usually good to find a tell-it-like-it-is sort of Garou and have a frank conversation. Ragabash are good for this, as long as they aren’t the kind who is likely to fill your head with nonsense for a laugh.

Like everything in Garou society, it all comes down to who makes the decisions, which varies from sept to sept. I can draw you a few generalities based on tribe, though. Don’t fall into the trap of thinking that this is all literally true. There’s no ‘tribal councils’ enforcing these customs, and a lot of septs these days have customs that are weird combinations of their founding or most populous tribes.

Some septs decide things by relying on groups of elders. Black Furies, for example, like to establish triads, one younger — but still high ranked and respected — one middle aged, and one as ancient as they can find. Children of Gaia, Red Talons, Shadow Lords, and Stargazers prefer for a single elder to lead, though that elder often has advisors, who may wield significant power and influence on their own. When someone is accused of breaking the Litany or trampling over local customs in a way that caused harm, the elder or elders will interview everyone involved and make a decision. Once the decision is made, there’s no appealing it. A duel — the only higher law the Garou can agree on — is the only way out.

Other septs — especially those influenced by the Bone Gnawers, Glass Walkers, Silver Fangs, and Silent Striders — prefer trials that kind of resemble those in human society, modern or archaic. The sept elders sit in judgment, both the accused and the accuser are represented by professionals, usually Philodox. Bone Gnawer trials are pretty weird, with bribes, nepotism, and a great deal of informal and disre-spectful behavior. It makes sense, in a way — the chamber of judgment is just another field of combat, and whoever can gain the most support and apply the most pressure is the one who will serve the Garou best whether he’s right or wrong. The other tribes prefer a great deal of formality and ritual to their trials, sometimes going so far as to wear costumes. It sounds silly, but we are an ancient people, and we do love our pageantry.

And then there are the septs that prefer some kind of conflict. The Fianna, Get of Fenris and Wendigo prefer trials by combat. Like the Bone Gnawers, all they really care about is who’s stronger, though their idea of ‘strength’ is a little more primal. Uktena-dominated septs like to summon spirits, who will then use their powers to ferret out the truth and reveal it to the assemblage. If the accused is clever enough to redirect or escape the spirit’s attention, well, then he deserves to go free. It works for them, I suppose, but you wouldn’t be surprised to find out that things usually go the way the most powerful Theurge present wants them to go.

But what you really wanted to hear about was what happens when someone breaks the rules? The short answer is, it depends on what he did wrong. The long answer, of course, is more complicated than that.

The lowest kind of punishment is called shaming. When a Garou commits a petty crime — insubordination, misuse of sept resources, or irresponsible behavior that doesn’t get anyone killed — we hold a mocking rite during one a sept gathering. The details vary from sept to sept — some septs even use rituals with real magic, like the Stone of Scorn or the Voice of the Jackal — but the gist of it is always the same: by the end of the ritual, the Garou being punished has been thoroughly humiliated. Everyone has a good laugh and the repentant Garou can count on being the butt of a few jokes over the next month or so. Until then, no one will take what she says seriously, and she’s likely to end up being ‘invited’ to take on unpleasant responsibilities as a way of clearing her shame — that, and no one will trust her with anything else. Eventually, the shame wears off. It’s even possible to win some honor in the sept’s eyes by accepting the shame with a mixture of good humor and aplomb.

Shunning is a little more serious. It’s sort of like a taste of exile. No one will speak to the Garou or acknowledge his existence until the punishment is formally lifted. Shunning rarely lasts for more than a lunar month, but can last for up to a year. Even her packmates will act like she never existed. No one will let her starve or freeze to death, if she doesn’t have the resources to take care of herself, but she can count on eating food no one else wants and sleeping in dingy or flea-infested blankets. No eye contact, no acknowledgment if she says ‘thanks’; just a plate of scraps out where she’ll find it, an unclaimed jacket left on a peg. It’s so bad that some Garou will actually let themselves waste away or seek honorable death in battle rather than wait for the punishment to end.

You can’t turn shunning to your advantage, no matter how hard you try, but you can make it a lot worse. If you have a human life to retreat to, don’t. That’s cowardice. The only way to deal with shunning is to slink around the sept looking suitably pitiful and repentant. Keep a book in your pocket — only be careful that no one sees you reading it — or spend the time in your wolf shape, practicing your hunting skills.

The thing is, you only get shunned if you seriously screw up. If you steal from the sept, give in to your inner beast and do something incredibly stupid like attack your elders or flee your post, or anything else that puts other Garou in danger, you could end up with this punishment.

The Garou have the death penalty — though some tribes, like the Children of Gaia, use it so rarely that it may as well not exist — but we save it for the most serious crimes. The only crimes that call down death are treason and murder. By treason, I mean collaborating with the Wyrm, not just

cooperating with the political enemies of your sept’s leaders. Killing one of your fellow Garou is really a kind of treason, since by your act you have denied Gaia one of her rightful defenders. Two, if you count the fact that you will die for your crimes, too.

And, yes, killing humans isn’t punished the same way as killing Garou. I’m not proud of that particular quirk of our law, but it’s the way things are. For all that many of us were raised among them, humans are too often either the enemy or deeply in our enemy’s thrall for us to see killing them in the same light as killing each other.

In some ways, death is a mercy. If you commit a crime worthy of death, chances are that you’ll just be hunted down and killed, informally. Receiving a formal execution means that you turned yourself in, accepted your trial with humil-ity and dignity. Like taking a shaming with good humor, accepting your execution is about the only thing you can do for your family — and your own legacy — to save it from some of the shame of what you’ve done.

The very worst thing we can to someone is called ‘casting out.’ It’s a euphemism. Really, ‘casting out’ is the very worst, most painful and prolonged execution possible. The details vary between septs. Some use a ritual that causes everything of Gaia to turn into silver blades for as long as the condemned touches it. Then, the sept organizes a hunt, and the chases the condemned through the wilderness until her tattered legs can’t support her anymore, and she falls to the ground, which turns into razored silver and just… devours her. Sometimes, before the condemned is killed, the sept use a ritual curse that sunders the condemned’s soul so that she can never find peace or forgiveness in Gaia’s embrace or take a place, however small, among her tribe’s ancestor spirits. Sometimes they do both.

But you don’t need to worry about casting out. If you’re incredibly unlucky, you’ll only see it done once in your life. It’s even less likely that you’ll be called upon to participate in one. Only the very worst criminals the Garou Nation has to offer are condemned to die in such a way: rapists, serial murderers, and Garou who devote themselves to the Wyrm in body and soul.

Septs are treated the same way. They can be mocked and shamed, cut off from other septs and shunned, or declared anathema and destroyed. Additionally, a sept can lose its kinfolk, either permanently or temporarily, be blacklisted by the spirit world, or have their leadership forcibly replaced. That gets into the politics of the greater Garou Nation. I learned about all of that from my father at the same time that my middle school social studies class was covering the structure of the United State government—but then again, I was born to be a politician among the Garou. I won’t subject you to the same treatment unless you decide that you’re interested in politics.

Claire paused for breath. The sky was beginning to brighten with the first hints of dawn, and except for listening to her audience’s questions and concerns, she’d been talking all night. The kid interrupted her before she had a chance to decide where to take the lesson next.

“So, why should I stay?” “Pardon me?” “That’s what you’re here for, to convince me, right? Yeah, I know, you said you just want to educate me. But you think I should stay. You want me to stay.”

Claire spoke carefully, unwilling to strain their fragile alliance. “I do think it’s best for you to stay with the sept, yes. Are you willing to hear me explain why I think so?”

“I just asked you to that, didn’t I?” Claire opened her mouth to respond, but the kid wasn’t finished. He carried on angrily, almost speaking to himself.

“I know what you’re going to say, though. You’re going to tell me that it’s my duty to stay, that I don’t really have any other choice. You’re going to tell me all about Gaia and Luna and all your other magic sky fairies. You’re going to tell me that the ‘Black Spiral Dancers’ and the ‘Banes’ are going to kill me or brainwash me as soon as I leave. It seems to me like you’re just trying to keep me here so that you people can brainwash me, first.”

Claire bit back a laugh. “You don’t believe in Gaia, Luna, the Black Spiral Dancers, or Banes?”

“Why should I? I haven’t seen any myself.” Claire shook her head. “Not yet,” she mused. Was I ever that innocent? Certainly, I’ve never been that ignorant. Then she turned her full attention back to the kid.

“How about this,” she suggested. “I’ll start by telling you all the reasons that someone might want to leave Garou society behind.”

The kid looked incredulous. “Really?” “Sure. I won’t hold anything back. I won’t tell you about why you should stay until I’ve told you everything crappy about the Garou, everything you might already know, everything that hasn’t happened to you yet.”

“And if I want to leave after that you’ll give me a ride to the bus station?”

“And I’ll do my best to make sure no one comes after you, and if they do catch you and decide to punish you, I’ll take your punishment on myself.”

The kid leaned forward, clearly interested. Claire steeled herself. This was it. So far, he’d heard almost everything he had to share, and somewhere behind his dark eyes, he was making his choice.

“I won’t lie to you,” Claire said, “I don’t love everything about Garou society. We are an ancient people, and we’ve acquired a lot of scars over the years. We are divided against ourselves, riven by ancient grudges, and we have short tempers…”

My father used to say that if the Garou could only unite behind a single leader, support a single vision for the world, we could turn the apocalypse into a rebirth for Gaia. I like to think that it wouldn’t take some kind of totalitarian takeover — that all our points of view could learn to coexist and fight our common enemies — but he did have a point. For almost our entire history, our worst enemy hasn’t been the Wyrm and its servants — it’s been us.

First and foremost are the tribal divisions. These divisions can be fierce — sometimes even violent — but they are constantly undermined by the connections between individual Garou. For a long time now, most packs and septs have been inter-tribal. Some hardliners, political ideo-logues who continue to pursue divisive agendas, insist that inter-tribal packs go against Gaia’s will. Most Garou have a hard time condemning other werewolves purely based on tribe because they know people from other tribes. They’ve fought together, called upon the spirits together, mourned together, celebrated together, and might even belong to the same pack. However, a vocal minority — those who have never belonged to a mixed community, or turned their backs on wider Garou society as a result of bad experiences with other tribes — can do a lot to influence politics. Even though these divisions are limited by inter-tribal connections, most Garou can’t throw off the idea that the radicals are somehow the ‘best’ or ‘purest’ members of the tribe.

Ancient wrongs drive some tribal conflicts. Uktena and Wendigo are still angry about what was done to their kinfolk when European settlers first came to the New World. They think we should have done more to stop the settlers, and maybe they’re right, though I still think that almost six hundred years is too long to hold a grudge — especially if that grudge stands to prevent us from uniting against the foes we were created to fight. Although they don’t often show it openly, the Bone Gnawers are angry about how they have been treated by the rest of the Garou Nation. They have chosen to live among the hardiest survivors of humanity, and they are upset that the Garou have failed to honor their choice because humanity’s stalwarts are also the poor, homeless, and outcast.

Ideological divisions drive other tribes apart. The Red Talons, for example, want to take direct action against humanity. Unfortunately, their idea of ‘direct action’ looks a lot like genocide, or at least mass murder, to those of us born of human kin. The Black Furies embody women’s anger,

which sometimes drives them to conflict with traditionally patriarchal tribes. The Children of Gaia — and yes, despite their reputation as gentle peacemakers the Children of Gaia can be some of the Nation’s most divisive Garou — sometimes act like they want to muzzle us. While I respect that there is a time and a place for conflict, there is also a time and a place for peace, and we are a race of warriors.

However, I think that the most insidious divisions are based on tribal culture. You can apologize for ancient wrongs and offer reparations, and you can bridge ideological divisions can be bridged with compromise. ‘They have wronged us’ and ‘their ideas are wrong’ are both easier to resolve then ‘they are wrong.’

One of the most famous conflicts of this nature is the one between the Shadow Lords and the Silver Fangs. We have fundamentally different styles of leadership. While the Silver Fangs want to be respected, the Shadow Lords merely want to be feared. While the Silver Fangs believe that honesty is a virtue, the Shadow Lords are ruthless and deceptive.

Almost every tribe has its foibles, and every foible can produce its own kind of conflict. Ask a dozen Garou and you’ll hear three dozen negative stereotypes about the tribes: the Fianna are insensitive and hold grudges, the Silent Striders are aloof, the Stargazers are arrogant, the Get of Fenris are insubordinate unless you’re willing to beat them into obedience, and on and on.

Within the tribes, the breeds also often fail to work together. Homid and lupus just don’t get each other. No matter how hard they try, even homid and lupus who love each other dearly will always have divergent needs and ambitions. The Metis among us are a despised minority, and probably always will be. It’s hard for many Garou to despise the sin that produced them without also despising the Metis born of that sin, even though it isn’t their fault.

Shameful as it is, the Garou also have deep conflicts with our own kin. Some Garou think of their Kinfolk as nothing more than breeding stock; while others treat their Kin as cannon fodder — sometimes I don’t know which is worse. Garou who sympathize with the Kin and demand that they be respected as members of the Nation fight those who don’t. Worst of all, some Kin have turned against their Garou relations. They demand exorbitant fees for aid that they should give freely, humiliating us when we come to them for help. Some even divorce themselves from the Nation entirely — your grandparents or great grandparents might be just such kin. That’s the case for a lot of lost cubs.

Divisions run up and down the entire ladder of Garou society. While some competitiveness can be healthy, as long as it spurs every side towards excellence, many Garou take it too far. Rival packs often forget that the quest for glory should be secondary to the war against the Wyrm, and when the time comes to battle they focus on shedding more enemy blood than their

counterparts, rather than actually winning. Sometimes it goes far enough that they skirmish in the wilderness, wounding each other rather than our natural foes. Rival septs usually fight more subtly, but I have seen septs destroyed by these conflicts. An argument over resources — water, kinfolk, spirit allies — turns into a feud, the septs start refusing each other aid or sending packs on missions of sabotage. Then the enemy finds out about the rivalry, and the next thing you know one of the septs is under attack. If the other can’t find a way to forget the past, soon there is only one sept serving Gaia where once there were two.

You already know what it’s like to be Garou, constantly struggling with your inner monster. We are a violent people, and we have never been able to confine our aggression to our enemies. It’s true that internal violence is less meaningful for us than it would be in human culture. You can quickly recover from a beating that would put a grown man in the hospital. However, the fact is that even when the pain and disability are transitory, violence hurts. No one likes taking a punch. And when that pain can come from anyone, even your friends and family, it has consequences. A lot of Garou act as though might makes right and they can just challenge or informally beat down anyone who disagrees with them. Garou who are physically weaker learn to hold back, only contributing their wisdom when they are certain that there won’t be painful side effects, while strong Garou can become overconfident, speaking their minds freely when the Nation would be better served by tact.

Of course, the Garou Nation likes its violence con-strained by ritual and custom. Most septs will punish brawls outside of formal challenges. That’s not to say that they don’t happen, and a sept’s leadership often choses to turn a blind eye to a certain amount of unofficial violence, especially among the younger Garou, and when it serves their own agendas. Every sept has a Master of Challenges, a respected Garou whose job it is to make sure that everyone follows the rules and customs of the challenge. The Master of Challenge’s word is final when it comes to challenges — though that isn’t to say that he’s immune to politics.

First, we have rules about who you can challenge and when. The best known of these restrictions comes from the Litany itself: “The Leader May Not Be Challenged During Wartime.” However, the leaders of a sept can delay or even outright prevent any challenge if they feel that it would weaken the sept. Rank also affects challenges. We use challenges to determine who is right — or at least who is stronger — of two Garou when the issue is contested. You don’t need to worry about your elders beating up on you — though there’s nothing saying they can’t let it be known that someone should put you in your place and wait for some ambitious young Ahroun to do it for them. At the

same time, an elder can ignore challenges by those who are far below him, which prevents young Garou from distracting their betters with a series of meaningless challenges.

We also have rules about how challenges proceed. Firstly, challenges have to be completely transparent. Someone — sometimes a Garou formally designated as the witness, sometimes the entire community — monitors the entire process, from the moment the challenge is issued to the duel itself. The presence of witnesses at the challenge itself is very important — in some septs, the entire community will gather to watch the duel. Challenges are also supposed to be fair. While a clever but relatively non-violent Ragabash might not be able to get out of fighting an Ahroun that he insulted, he can count on the Master of Challenges to include some mitigating factor to keep it from being a one-sided contest.

At least in theory, all Garou respect the importance of accepting an honorable surrender, especially during a challenge. Don’t try surrendering to Black Spiral Dancers, though. Don’t assume that you’re safe during a challenge. Garou die by accident, and if your opponent hates you enough, there are some Garou who consider it worth the risk to make sure you don’t leave the dueling circle alive.

However, it’s a pretty big risk; most septs will investigate deaths during a challenge, and a Garou who makes a habit of killing his opponents will eventually become extremely unpopular. One of the only times I saw a challenge end in death and the matter conclude without further investigation, the deceased was a Garou well known for using duels to eliminate his rival. The sept considered itself better off without her, and they were right.

Of course, not every challenge is violent. Some challenges are spiritual, duels using spirit surrogates, or challenges of cunning and strategy. However, the fact remains that conflict is at the heart of Garou society. We believe in nurturing each other, to a point, but we also believe in sharpening each other. This way has served us, but it also makes us contentious and can waste time, blood, and lives.

In addition to being violent, Garou society is also dogmatic. As I’ve said before, we are an ancient people. Many of us believe that we shouldn’t have to change with the times. I don’t just mean the tribes that are commonly viewed as ‘traditional.’ A Glass Walker who refuses to see that the Weaver’s web needs pruning because his people have always believed in using the Weaver against the Wyrm is as much a traditionalist as a Red Talon who stubbornly refuses to allow human kinfolk armed with submachine guns to provide covering fire during an assault on a Pentex facility.

Oddly enough, I think the biggest flaw of Garou society is something very pedestrian: poor boundaries. I’m sure you’ve noticed this already. We may be one family, but we are a clannish and insular family. For a people of warriors, we are also incurable gossips and busybodies. You can count on everything you do being held up to public scrutiny and

judgment. Your choice of mate, your choice of clothes, your political leanings, the totem your pack agrees on, the territory they chose to hold — all of it is up for public debate.

The constant attention of your family can be comforting, like a warm blanket. When someone dear to you is killed in battle and the entire community turns out to support you, it really does help. If you fall into Harano and everyone knows about it, so everyone crowds around you to pull you out of your shell, and help you find the wolf again, it can save your life. At other times, however, like when you’re trying to keep a secret or just get some space, it can be frustrating and cloying. We’re human, as well as wolf, and sometimes we need to be solitary.

With all of that division, violence, and intolerance, why would anyone ever stay?

The first answer is that the Garou Nation is your family. I know you might not feel that way right now, but it’s true. No one will ever understand you like we will. Some of us already know that, because we were born here. Some of us — like you — aren’t that lucky. You came to us later in life.

But think about it. Has any ordinary human ever really understood you, ever really accepted and trusted you? It isn’t impossible — I know some Garou who maintain very meaningful friendships with humans — but I’m sure it was hard. We know what it’s like for you to carry a beast inside your heart. We know what it means to struggle with strange urges, with the need to fight. We can help you channel those urges in constructive ways. Most importantly, we understand you. You have more in common with anyone in this sept than you do with any human in the world.

Born or chosen, we are your family. And as your family, you can count on our support. I’m not just talking about supporting you in battle; I’m also talking about practical, everyday emotional and material support. Unless the sept you someday choose to settle in is completely dysfunctional, the Garou there will help you. Do you want a normal human life? Garou who have been maintaining that balance for years are there to teach you. Do you want to immerse yourself in sept life? Your community will be there to make sure that if you do need something from the human world, you have the human cash to pay for it. If there’s a skill you want to acquire — anything from a Gift to learning how to set up a tent or make a fire — I can guarantee that someone in your sept will be happy to teach you. All they will ask in return is that you do the same for them.

Of course, there’s a big difference between what you need and what you want. No Garou will ever go hungry as long as she has a sept to support her, but if you want luxury, you’re going to need to either get a job or convince your sept that you are worth the expense.

However, the emotional support is even more important. Life is hard for the Garou Nation. People you care about are going to die — sometimes slowly and in pain, from wounds or Wyrm poisons, sometimes abruptly and without warning on the field of battle — and the Garou Nation is here to help you through that. You probably already know something about the emotional rollercoaster that is life as a Garou. Everyone here understands that, too, and they’re happy to help. Whatever you need — whether it’s to run wild in the forest or curl up and cry — there are Garou in ever sept who know what it’s like and want to make sure you don’t have to do it alone.

You might think that leaving the sept means turning your back on the war against the Wyrm, but you’re wrong. Even if you were the kind of person who could close his eyes to the harm agents of the Wyrm do to ordinary humans — and now that you know about it, you’ll see it everywhere — the Wyrm and its minions aren’t going to leave you be. Lone Garou are easy pickings, and they’ll kill you even if you don’t offer them any trouble. They’ll kill you out of spite, or against the possibility of you rejoining the Nation one day. They’ll kill you because they like to kill things, and even a young Garou on his own in the world offers a greater challenge than some human off the street. Or worse, they’ll take you alive and change you. You could call what we do here indoctrination, and you wouldn’t be wrong, but what they’d do to you is different. They’ll break your mind, steal your soul, and transform you into a monster. They’ll teach you to savor the taste of human flesh and human pain, and then they’ll turn you out to kill and maim until we have to put you down.

On to happier topics — the Garou Nation is indispensible if you want to get a date. I’m not saying that you can’t have sexual encounters with ordinary humans — it’s foolish, but some Garou take pride in seducing and attempting to impregnate humans to spread our blood — but your inner beast sets you apart in the dating pool, too. Some humans find that Garou have a certain appeal, an animal magnetism, but try building a relationship on that. Remember how I said that I know Garou with good human friends? I don’t know a single Garou who’s managed to maintain a serious romantic relationship with a human. It’s hard to love someone that you’re afraid of.

Kinfolk, on the other hand, usually know what they’re getting into. Some of them have been raised by a Garou parent, alongside Garou siblings. Some kinfolk understand the ways of our inner beasts as well as we do. The Kinfolk you’re likely to meet in a sept — understand and accept, or at least put up with, their place as supporters and helpmeets. Even if they’re wary of us — not at all uncommon among Kinfolk who are familiar with our violent, dogmatic ways — it’s easier to overcome because there’s no supernatural compulsion involved.

It might be hard for you to think about this seriously, young as you are, but the Garou Nation can help you find a mate. Even setting aside the Kin — and some Garou — who support the sept as professional matchmakers, Kinfolk are almost as rare as

we are. Out in the world, there’s no guarantee you’ll ever find anyone to share your life. Here, though, I can almost guarantee that you will, whether you’re looking for a modern idea of love and partnership or a Kinfolk woman to tend your hearth and bear you strong children. At the very least, you’ll have a chance.

Finally, and most importantly, you are Garou. We are an ancient people, made by the spirits to save the world. Some have called the Garou Nation ‘the wolf of one heart, one mind, one soul.’ We are a nation with a mission. We have a reason to exist that is higher and more universal than just pursuing our own prosperity. What human nation can say the same thing?

Why should you stay with us? Because you are already one of us, and you always will be. Do you think you can turn your back on the war? If you go back to your hometown and discover that a Bane has infiltrated your old high school and is turning your old friends into corrupted mockeries of themselves, could you really say that it’s none of your business? If the forest where you run wild when the moon takes you is in danger of being clear-cut to make room for condos, will you really stand aside and let it happen? You won’t. Being a werewolf is in your blood, but it’s also in your soul. That’s why Gaia and Luna chose you, personally, to be one of us, quickening your potential and making you Garou.

You can turn your back on us, Ismael, but you can’t change what you are. Stay with us, be one of us, be part of the wolf of one heart, and help us save the world.

“You know my name?” By the growing light of dawn, Claire watched his eyes widen with surprise.

Claire laughed. “Of course I do. You’re my cousin, Ismael. I don’t need to know you to be interested in you and care about you. Remember all that stuff I said about how the Garou Nation supports each other? Why else do you think I’ve been talking to you all night?”

They stood in silence for a few moments as the lakeshore came to life around them. Turtles, shaggy with lake weed, sunned themselves on rocks while the birds at the water’s edge announced to the world that are here, that they own their territory, that they are ready to mate. Beneath it all, Claire felt the humming spiritual life of the caern. She knew that Ismael could feel it, too, and wondered how aware of it he was.

“I want to make a deal,” Ismael said. “More deals? Go ahead.” “I’ll stay, but I want you to be my teacher.” Claire shook her head. “You don’t want me, Ismael. I’ll get you into more trouble than I’m worth. There are a lot of Garou who will look down on you for that choice. I can’t teach you everything, and there are some who will be reluctant to educate you because you’re associated with me.”

Ismael stood up. “No, listen. I don’t really get it. I don’t really get what you’re talking about — all this stuff about being ‘one wolf’ — but I do get that you care about me, even though I can’t figure out why. The thing is, I’m not from some little village community or hippie commune. I grew up in Maryland. So if you want me to believe all of that, you’re going to have to show me yourself. You’re different from everyone else. You tell it like it is. I don’t want to take it from them — I want to hear it from you. Deal?”

“Deal,” Claire agreed. She shouldered Ismael’s duffel bag. “Now, let’s get back to the cabins and see if we can’t catch a couple of hours of sleep. If I’m going to be your teacher, then we’d better not waste any more time.”

Someday, Ismael might be revered as a hero. Someday there might be people who were alive because him — his own sons and daughters, and those whose lives he had touched and preserved — and after he was gone, they might sit together and recount his deeds.

But at that moment, Ismael was nothing so significant. He was just another part of the Garou Nation, a young man walking with his teacher across the bawn of his sept, in the light of a gathering day.

The Pack Status and Sept Standing Backgrounds presented here, along with the expanded rules on Sept Positions, can help give weight to a game focused around a pack finding their place within a sept. They’re optional, and the Storyteller should work with her group to decide whether to include them.