Bestiary

Emanations don’t use traditional spirit traits. Instead, they have the normal assortment of Attri­ butes, Abilities, and so forth. If a Garou gets into conflict with the hunters of Wolfhome or a Nazi guard in the Atrocity Realm, the Storyteller rolls the emanation’s Dexterity + Firearms instead of Willpower to attack. When the Garou retaliates, his attacks harm the emanation’s health levels, not its Essence.

often unaware of their spiritual nature and act like normal people or animals for their given context. As expressions of a particular realm’s nature, some Garou suspect they’re a way for the realms to attempt to communicate with material beings.

The biggest difference between emanations and the traditional spirits also found in the Near Realms is that emanations do not follow the same rules as spirits do. A human-looking emanation is a human for all intents and purposes — it has no sense of its rank or purpose, no Charms, and no ban. That makes it very hard for were­ wolves to differentiate between the emanations of tortured souls in Malfeas and the very real humans that the Wyrm’s minions bring to that blasphemous place.

Not every entity found in the Near Realms is an ema­ nation. Most of them are typical spirits who simply make their homes in places suited to them and use the normal traits of Rage, Willpower, etc. A Pattern Spider in the CyberRealm is pretty much the same as it is anywhere else in the Umbra. Emanations are specifically the human and animal-shaped ‘mundane’ creatures that make up a Near Realm’s population.

To those well versed in the ways of spirits, the world teems with life. As previously described, spirits aren’t living things in the traditional sense but the animistic world of the Garou isn’t entirely unlike a thriving forest. A traveler walks through a forest and sees all manner of creatures, some strange-looking and brightly colored, climbing on trees and alighting on branches. He hears other things moving unseen through leaves and bushes, sometimes but not always leaving noticeable traces and scents. He doesn’t see but knows for a fact that some creatures squirm within the earth or behind a layer of tree bark. He takes their

presence for granted rather than disturb them. Parts of this world are just beyond reach and perception.

Humans see the animistic world like a young child at his first stage play. People speak and move on stage, drawing all of the attention, while figures skitter about backstage manip­ ulating props and bits of the scenery. He only sees what’s in front of the curtain or shining down into his eyes from up above. He doesn’t look for strings or arms moving the sun across the sky, nor does he notice actors vanishing through a trap door or stagehands hiding props for later. It’s the magic of the theatre at work and he only sees the show. The adults, however, know about the complicated technical work backstage that to a child may as well be the workings of Santa Claus.

As steeped as they are in broods and hierarchies, the spiritual denizens of the Umbra don’t have to think about their place in the grand scheme of things. Some can, and fewer go to the effort to do so, but each has a niche and not only are they inclined to remain within that niche, they view everything through the perspective the niche provides. Spirits follow their instincts defined by their nature and brood even if they are aware enough to do otherwise. Each is part of the greater whole of Gaia and even corrupted spirits antithetical to Her well-being play out whichever role is assigned to them by their nature.

To a spirit, fulfilling its purpose and going about its duties is as natural as a human breathing air. When a human has to perform a task outside of an oxygen-rich environment — perhaps underwater or in space — her first priority is making sure that she can breathe. When in the new environment, she sees everything through a helmet carrying the familiar air with her. A spirit removed from its natural environment also perceives the world through the only context it knows.

Some spirits are very good at mimicking human be­ haviors and expressions, and the more intelligent Jagglings can carry on conversations like a regular person. But unless part of their nature is to do so, those spirits simply won’t see things through a human standpoint. It’s like they have a cheat sheet with lines used to get certain responses and translate those responses into their own way of thinking. Some even have a very good ‘translation book’ but they always lose some nuance. That’s not even taking into account local elements demanding the spirits’ attention away from the pointless chattering that engages them.

A spirit identifies the world around it through the context of its nature and experience. If a spirit doesn’t need to know what a car is, it likely won’t. A cat-spirit has a context to understand a car, though it understands a car to be a “wheeled people-carrying murder-box.” An electrical elemental knows what a car is but sees it as an “engine and circuits full of flame and power hauling us to and fro.” A spirit of enigmas, if asked, would explain a car as a “fast metal

transport, moves people many places, yet the people remain still.” All three types of spirits may or may not know to translate that concept into the word “car” when talking to one of the Garou, but in their internal script they still see a car as something particular based on their experiences and nature.

This section presents examples of the experiences of three different spirits. Each offers a glimpse into how each of these different spirits interacts with the world and with werewolves, and the Garou’s perspective on each encounter.

Scurry from dark place to dark place. Watch the spiders through the cracks. They do not see, they never see. Not as interesting as the ants in my old trash-box but I have orders. I will have to deal with the ants later.

I feel warmth of satisfaction from the basement. Nestmates in the Realm enjoy a meal. A good meal. Sour and sweet and syrupy. Spiders dancing along their webs, nothing special. I might enjoy the feast.

Antenna tingles. Something calls from down below. Take care, nestmates, coming!

Scurry through cracks, dark place to dark place. Tight spots feel good to crawl through. They feel natural. Feel right.

The basement glows. Not trouble. Glow is a picture of Cockroach-shape. The meal was an offering. I accept the invitation and find a nice, tight space to squeeze through the Weaver-wall.

Out of the land of shadow, into the land of light, but still dark. Now I glow, just a little bit. The nestmates feast on white boxes full of noodles and rotten meat and plants. Syrupy-sweet.

The picture is here, too, drawn in syrupy-sweetness nearby. A young Garou kneels next to it. She jumps when I skitter out of the shadows.

“Gaia, you’re big,” she whispers. She is young, a pup, and has Cockroach-scent on her. Weaver-things in her pockets.

“Greetings, Glass Walker,” I hiss to her. She is here to talk to me, I will be friendly and polite. She knows the proper ways and is friend to my brood. “You share a fine meal. I thank you.”

“I thank you for your time.” She is nervous, skittery. I want her to stay but I like the skittery. Tricky. “But I need help.”

“How may I assist?” I can take time away from the spiders for the Garou.

“There is a building near here, a skyscraper. Um, a tall building covered with windows. It’s new,” she explains. “I’m looking for secret ways in.”

“Cracks in the walls?” “Yes, exactly.” She relaxes. Not as skittery now. “A crack big enough for my pack, someplace... someplace dark and

shadowy, out of the light, where they can’t see. The build­ ing is a block and a half that way.” She points at the wall.

My antennae twitch as I picture the human roads of concrete. I know this city, I know this building. I remember it smells clean. Too clean. Clean and poison. I do not like that place. I am now skittery, which feels right, but makes it hard to help.

“I’ll help you more,” she says. Does she also know the skittery? “I’ve heard you have a problem with ants in the dumpster.”

Yes! Yes she knows the ants! The ants that bite, the ants that swarm, so frustrating!

“You know this problem?” I ask. “The ants have my trash-box?”

“Yes, the Gafflings moving in from the park into your territory.” I do not know the park as well but I do not correct the Glass Walker. “If I chase them off and give you your trash-box back, will you show me how to get into the building?”

“I will look now. When the trash-box is mine, meet me back here.”

Scurry back into the shadows and back through the Weaver-wall. Back into the land of shadow. Scurry out onto the street, slip through piles of trash. Antenna shows me other spirits moving around above. More of the Weav­ er-spiders closer and closer to the shiny building. Feel them above, but focus on road ahead.

Shiny building is just a shadow here, but Pattern Spi­ ders building and webbing. Always building and webbing. Giving the shadow walls and beams. I see webs of light above and in a hole in the ground.

Scurry through shadows, down into hole. Familiar smell down there. Antenna feel something useful, familiar, tasty.

Sewer! Old sewer tunnel in the Realm! Part of the basement but closed. Spiders think the wall is enough.

The wall has cracks. Scurry to find how to get Glass Walker to the cracks.

Thinking about the tasty trash-box.