Everything

Duane ‘Talks-the-Talk’ Garrahan, Fianna Philodox explains what makes the Old City Sept special:

One thing that surprises American Garou is how a fair number of European septs are predominantly of a single tribe. They’re not the majority, but we’ve got enough are traditionalists and hard-liners that you can still find someone who thinks mixing tribes in a pack is practically breaching the Litany right there. They may not have numbers, but those septs have power on their side — they’re some of the oldest around. Old City is an exception, being a properly historic sept with attitudes that don’t come from the fifteenth century. Between us and the Sept of Sun’s Glory in the Alps, we’re trying to force the traditionalists to get with the times. But it’s an uphill struggle.

Single-tribe septs are one thing, but these days even they don’t complain about multi-tribal packs — as long as their own members don’t think of joining one. But that idea’s settling in, and with examples from both Europe and America, we’re finally giving the modern world a voice. Don’t trust anyone who goes on about how we should “respect our history;” half the time that’s just code for “stick it to the foreigners.”

Just don’t trust anyone who goes on about how we should “respect our individual cultures and histories,” they’re all just pining for the glorious days of the Roman Empire.

frenzy. As I was in a position to risk deportation I stayed back at first until things started ramping up at Millbank Square. The police, rapidly losing control of the situation, started corralling protestors who fought back in turn. As I watched, Garou pushed through the fray as best they could to get their packmates and Kinfolk out before things reached a boiling point. Something smelled a bit ‘off’ to me, however.

I focused and expanded my senses. A group of troublemakers caught my eye, about to blindside some already-edgy police officers. Wyrm taint wafted off of them and I grabbed the first Garou I could find, a small pack of Fianna, and pointed at the wild-eyed trio.

“Fomori,” I said as quietly as I could while still being heard. “We need to get them out of here before they make this worse.”

The Fianna and I rushed at the Bane-possessed humans to get them off the streets. It didn’t take much to chase them off and the distraction, ironically, helped keep the Fianna from completely losing their cool at the police’s impromptu incarceration of the marchers. Word spread among the Garou at the site; those capable of it drove off the fomori and those who’d been kettled kept the fomori pinned down as best they could. The nature of the scene, unfortunately, prevented us from doing much more than driving them off and capturing a few for interrogation or exorcism.

It was a mess. The actions of a few protestors, some of them possibly influenced by Banes at that, were being blown up and put on the heads of everyone at the protest. And the police, seeing that the situation was beyond them, turned to violence with blinding speed. I remained there at the site as long as I could, offering support to Garou and Kin still in the area well into the evening.

The other Stargazers returned to their homes but I found myself swept along to the home of the Old City Sept: a building with lofts altered and converted for Garou use with an atrium of sorts in the center. It was abuzz with activity, in between Garou seeking out legal contacts to protect their relatives, allies, and others gathering information on people who appeared to be shaping events at the protest. They were looking for police and protestors believed to be Wyrm agents and trying to track down those who got away. Things weren’t going well for the sept, for all they had access to government systems, they had to share bandwidth and processing time with legitimate users without tipping anyone off.

Hey, look at me like that. I may look like I can barely spell ‘Google,’ but I’ve got hidden depths.

I recounted of what I’d seen and done to Nicola River-Runner, Fianna and elder of what’s largely a Glass Walker sept, and volunteered my time to do what I could. Over the next couple of weeks, through some intense detective work, we managed to track down a few of the fomori who’d shown up at the protest. They were in the middle of trying to escalate other, low-key protests. They weren’t strong enough to stop us from grabbing them and dragging them back to a safe location. We were even able to get a Theurge to force the Banes out of them, although we couldn’t save them all from the resulting trauma.

The next big march was a couple of weeks after the first. Thousands took off work and school to be a part of the event. This time, we spotted fomori on both sides escalating violence and vandalism, knowingly playing off each other. The police charged at the protestors with horses and trapped protestors for over nine hours in the bitter November cold with no food, water, or toilet facilities.

Of course, the police denied the excesses on their side

and for the most part got away with it. For all of the talk of London having more CCTV cameras than anywhere else, the news networks avoided the protests and accepted statements from the Metropolitan Police Service. This bit of irony opened up a niche for the protestors to fight back, though, as they started using Youtube to show what was really happening to the world and garnered a lot of public support. Trust me, it may be ‘just the Internet,’ but you’d be surprised how much it helps morale to know how many people are behind you.

Starting with the second protest, the sept asked us to teach the younger Garou who wished to join the protest how to cope without giving in to their Rage. Personally, I thought even risking it was far too much, but when it occurred to me that they were going to get involved one way or another, we held a few basic meditation classes. I’m used to teaching, but I do it through anecdotes and stories. Actually leading a class was different.

If nothing else, though, it made it possible for more of us to be on the ground and put forth whatever effort we could to keep the worst elements under control. And in addition to the obvious, we also provided some basic first aid and brought in food and supplies for people trapped in the sealed-off areas. Some of us spent hours in the Umbra fighting off Banes that came to feast on the pain and anger just across the Gauntlet.

London’s Umbral reflection is far different from what we are used to, here. The Weaver has been working on old European cities for a lot longer than anywhere in North America and her webs cover absolutely everything. In some areas, they bristle with spines like barbed wire, and it’s like the smoke from the Industrial Revolution still clings to the webbing even now. It’s ominous, to put it lightly, and I’m told it’s getting worse all the time as events have given the government more and more reason to clamp down.

Just when we thought we had a handle on all of it, the attack came. There was a close call in early December between a royal motorcade and a protesting crowd. Nobody was hurt, but the incident gave a few people in high places all the justification they needed.

The police, by this point, were recording the protestors as much as the protestors were recording the police so they could track down participants later and target them. For most of them we were just faces in the crowd, but some of the well-placed fomori knew we were worth going after. We saw something like this coming so diverted anyone who showed their face at the protests to an impromptu safe house a distance from the sept with most travel back and forth taking place in the Umbra. We kept a few people at the safe house for appearance’s sake, though, and to make room for those who came in from outside the sept to help.

The fomori who attacked weren’t experienced soldiers, thank Gaia. They were willing slaves of the Wyrm, yes, but the small squad was more interested in violence than good at it. The attackers were a mix of police and anarchists, all corrupted by the Wyrm and united to sow discord. They came at us without official sanction or backup so they wouldn’t have to answer any awkward questions later, armed only with their warped abilities and a pair of Banes to back up their need for destruction.

They caught us off-guard at first as we were still going over data after the protest, making sure our Kinfolk were okay. The whole place went dark — later, we saw that they’d cut the power and the phone lines, apparently not expecting us to have battery backups and cellular internet connections. Then they rushed in, lashing out at anything that moved. We couldn’t hear them talk to one another at all, and when I distracted one he slew one of his comrades. Their movements told me that the fomori had never fought together. Inspecting their bodies, we found that they didn’t even think to bring silver. On top of that we had three advantages that even their lack of planning couldn’t have accounted for.

First was that surprised or not, we were still all on edge and ready for action. The second was that half of our forces were perfectly poised to come up on them from behind. The third was that far too many of us had been spoiling for the opportunity to tear something apart.

Were this a moot, I’d go into far more detail of a battle that even I found glorious. Were this a moot, I would describe what it was like for someone as repressed as me to indulge in some base desire and adopt the war form. Were this a moot, I would probably demonstrate some of the moves I made as I divided the fomori into tiny chunks.

But it’s not a moot. It’s me simply reliving an opportunity to cut loose for once. I may be a Stargazer, but my blood comes from a... more passionate tribe.

In the end, the students’ message was sent and heard if not necessarily heeded. Since then, the ongoing struggle has shifted to a more even keel, for the most part. After staying a couple more weeks to make sure there wouldn’t be any more attacks, I moved on having made a number of friends there.

Oh, what did we do with the bodies of the fomori? Okay, I’ll admit I’m not as proud of this part but our options were few. After all, it’s not like we could just tell the police that a number of their officers had become Wyrm-monsters and teamed up with some similarly monstrous anarchists to kill us.

The solution was simple. We had to get rid of a number of dead police officers and a number of dead anarchists. We had a safe house to hide dangerous protestors. The

Glass Walkers buried some paper trails and planted a few things in the police’s files, but in the end we were able to make the problem take care of itself.

Speaking of problems taking care of themselves, if I don’t get some rest soon I’m going to fall over.

Yes, I’ll still be here tomorrow. I have many more stories to tell, and I still haven’t had as much time as I’d like to catch up with a few people here at the caern. Come back tomorrow, with your elders’ permission of course, and maybe I’ll share a story I heard once about a Red Talon Ragabash who willingly ventured into the cities to learn for himself if any humans were worth saving.

I do want to ask you one thing before you go, though. Was it the Fury Crone, Deathgrip, who sent you to me?

I thought so. Maybe I’ll have to have a long chat with my mother after our lesson tomorrow. Ah, and the look on your face is worth it. As I suspected. Pleasant dreams, cub. Pleasant dreams.