Post by stzach on Jan 8, 2016 19:46:33 GMT
At the core of Werewolf is the idea that each werewolf character is shaped by three factors of his existence— breed, auspice and tribe. For the most part, auspices and tribes are social conventions more than anything else; the role that a werewolf must play among Garou society, and the subculture he stands among by virtue of birth or choice. But breed is something that a subculture not role. Often the reflex is to play a breed to stereotype — a homid is basically an ordinary person with great powers, a metis is a bitter, hateful wreck, and a lupus is a doglike personality usually boasting some difficulty with basic language skills. But go beyond the stereotype, and you find so much more.
In the World of Darkness, lycanthropy is not a disease but an inheritable trait. As dual beings (being both wolves and men), Garou can (and do) interbreed with both species. A Garou's extended non-shapechanging family is called its Kinfolk. Most often, Garou are born to one non-Garou and one Garou parent but in families (both wolf and human) where Garou blood is especially strong, Homid or Lupus Garou sometimes are born from non-shapeshifting parents.
The circumstances of their parentage determines their breed. A Garou born in human form is called a homid; a Garou born in wolf form is called a lupus. The breed or species of the mother determines the breed of the Garou. A Garou born from two Garou parents is called a Metis and is invariably deformed as a result of this inbreeding, as well as completely sterile; however, Metis have Gifts and advantages exclusive to their breed, including the ability to regenerate in all their various forms and a deeper understanding of Garou society owing to their pre-change life exclusively amongst the Garou. Once pariahs in Garou society, trying times have led to the partial integration of the Metis breed into the ranks of the Garou. A werewolf's breed determines (to some extent) their Gnosis, or spiritual awareness (Lupus Garou being more in tune with the primal spirit world than Homids, and Metis Garou being in between).
Prior to their First Change, Garou typically live amongst their kinfolk; in most cases, non-metis Garou are raised unaware of their true nature. Garou usually experience their first change during puberty, occurring in the early teenage years for homids, around 1–2 years of age for lupus, and typically about 6–10 years of age for metis. Prior to this change, the proto-garou is usually unable to change forms, a condition that rarely causes difficulty amongst the homid and lupus, but which confines the metis to the perimeter (or bawn) of Garou-held holy places called caerns.
In general, while most non-metis Garou leave their native societies to live among their shapechanging kin (engaging in a modern primitive lifestyle), they retain healthy contact with their Kinfolk to ensure their protection as family and the overall health and vitality of the Garou line.
Metis
The moment of conception, the life of a metis is one filled with hardships. She is clearly a werewolf, but one forced to stay always at the margins of her culture. The metis child's birth is agonizing for the mother on spiritual, physical and emotional planes. And if the child survives long enough for her First Change, life improves only marginally. A homid or lupus werewolf will seldom accept a metis as an equal, no matter what her deeds and heroism. So why bother? What's the draw of playing one of these werewolves anyway?
First of all, there's the knowledge that comes with being a metiss. While generally raised apart from the homid and lupus cubs of a Sept, metis are still much more in the know than the typical homid or lupus werewolf before First Change and the Rite of Passage. Even at the fringes of Garou society, metis are able to acquire a good chunk of information; they're unwanted children, but they're still included in family life, albeit grudgingly. They know, for example, about the tribes, the Litany, moots, the Triat, the day-to-day running of a sept and the intricacies of rank and challenge. Maybe metis don't have all the details down pat, but the vocabulary and basic concepts are there. They might not be active participants in sept life, but they do see its realities. Compare this to an unwitting homid teenager who knows nothing about werewolves except from television and movies, and the advantages are evident. Also, for an experienced player who is "in the know" about many aspects of the Werewolf setting, playing a metis helps alleviate the "play dumb" syndrome. In other words, since the character has some knowledge, the player doesn't have to pretend he doesn't know what a moot is.
Second, playing a metis can be a great challenge. Maybe you've always stuck with more stereotypical characters, such as the fierce Get Ahroun or the technogeek Glass Walker Ragahash. Now, maybe you want to try something new, a situation where your character's place in the pack isn't so clear-cut or respected. Working out where your character belongs, fighting for approval and showing your convictions as a true warrior of Gaia can offer ample roleplaying opportunities as well as the chance to explore the depths of what it means to be metis in werewolf society
Finally, consider the spiritual connection metis have to Gala and the Umbra, which Gnosis represents. While lesser than the lupus', it's much greater than the homid's. Metis have innate hunches about matters of the Umbra and other spiritual affairs. In fact, some of the canniest Theurges are metis, able to parlay with spirits and follow prophetic dreams with great acumen.
So, should new players be discouraged from playing metis? Not necessarily. If a newbie has considered and is eager to explore some of the difficulties metis face, fellow players and the Storyteller should by all means encourage him. Players (and Storytellers) are generally happier when they have a character that interests them; it makes for better roleplaying as well as more material for the Storyteller's plots.he role his metis character will play in the chronicle
A word on Deformities
All metis have some sort of visible deformity, whether it's physical or behavioral; that's just a fact of playing the character. And anyone who tries to turn the defect into an advantage probably doesn't really want to play a metis after all, since it's so intrinsic to the breed. As a player, though, consider how the deformity impacts the character's life and how in turn she responds to the deformity. Some characters might try to ignore the blemish, wearing concealing makeup or prosthetic; others might choose to enhance it in some gruesome way, making sure their identity is overtly and grotesquely apparent to others. Also, think about when or if the character ever wants to conceal the deformity. It's a mark against her honor to try and cover up the shame of her birth, but what if there're extenuating circumstances? Would it be worth it? What might happen if her true form was discovered? Deliberating some of these points can add considerable depth to the character, letting her stand apart from other metis in the group.
Breaking the Mold
The typical metis has grown up on the fringes of werewolf culture, learning scraps of information and getting enough care to stay alive… but she's still sort of an omega wolf. That's the stereotype, anyway. But what about making this scenario a hit more complex, giving the metis character a more unique background? Consider the rare metis child who, because of her tribe's outlook or some unusual act of bravery or a famous prophecy, was actually welcomed and treated kindly. For the years before her First Change, she suffered little ostracism. But shortly after the Rite of Passage (and before the actual chronicle starts), this metis loses everything. Black Spirals destroy her sept and her family, and now she's alone, looking for a new pack. The character may he an inevitable case of Harano, but she wants to survive and avenge her family, even if it means sticking with homid and lupus who find her disgusting. A similar concept might be the metis child of two famous werewolves. Because of his parentage, the metis receives some grudging acceptance, at least to his face. Behind his back, though, he's a laughing stock. How will the character react? An¬other option, relying heavily on the whims of the Storyteller, is bringing a metis character full circle. Perhaps he starts life more or less normally, but after constant rejection, becomes bitter and in his heart, rejects his culture. Part of the "transformation" of the character throughout the chronicle involves finding his way back to being a loyal member of a pack or Sept. The whole objective here is to think about other ways to twist the stereotype so that every metis isn't the same old bitter outcast, time after time.
Another way to break the mold is to have a metis character with the Background Pure Breed. Assuming both parents come from the same tribe, a metis can have just as fine a pedigree as any other werewolf; even the "nobles" among the werewolves can have an oops. A well-bred metis may face less prejudice to his face. Of course, that doesn't mean there won't be subtle cuts here and there, as well as a lot of sneers behind his back. And even Pure Breed doesn't guarantee full acceptance within a pack; the metis will have to earn that place, just like everyone else. No doubt the other characters will be a little guarded in their acknowledgment of the metis as well.
Tribal Outlooks
Typically, tribes take one of three perspectives on metis (though keep in mind there are always exceptions to these generalizations). Some openly despise these misfits and make no excuses; the Fianna, Red Talons, Silver Fangs and Wendigo fall into this category. The only reason they allow metis to live usually involves some important prophecy or a pulling of rank by a werewolf who doesn't want the offspring (and possibly the parents) to die. Sometimes they give the young metis to other, less skeptical tribes to raise as their own.
Others, such as the Black Furies, Get of Fenris and Uktena, give grudging acceptance, but really dislike what the metis represent. They may not speak openly about the prejudice, but it's there. Finally, some tribes don't care overmuch one way or the other, if the metis serves well and loyally, like any other pack member. Bone Gnawers, Children of Gaia, Glass Walkers, Shadow Lords and Silent Striders often take this perspective. They're the ones who usually take unwanted metis and put them to work. For all intents and purposes, even if the metis is born to another tribe, she takes on the totem, Gifts and all other features of her adoptive tribe
A Few Questions
• When does a metis undergo First Change?
This varies somewhat, for unknown reasons. Some metis can take their other forms in early childhood, around age four or five. Others must remain in their breed form until ages nine or 10.. Some werewolves believe that metis born of two lupus undergo the Change earlier than the offspring of two homids, but no one's made a scientific study of this.
• Can metis have sex, even though they are sterile? What about two metis having sex? What about mating?
Yes, metis can have sex; the parts, as it were, work just fine. It's just that no conception can take place. Still, most werewolves are going to frown on metis engaging in coitus even with non-Kin humans or wolves who could potentially have legitimate marinas with homid or lupus Garou (remember, not all werewolves are born from Garou and Kin; sometimes, normal humans or wolves can have werewolf offspring). As far as honorably mating with a Kinfolk, that's another big problem. With the numbers of werewolves dwindling, most tribes want their Kin to marry with Garou or at least other Kin. There is a certain pressure to reproduce and swell the numbers of Gaia's warriors. Metis who fall in love with Kin and desire to be honorably mated are going to have a difficult time; this scenario has all the makings of a most tragic love story and great fodder for the chronicle. And the werewolves aren't going to approve of metis pairing up with each other, either; even though there's no possibility of offspring, the Litany still says Garou shouldn't mate with Garou. There has been one ex¬ception is of course the perfect child of two metis whose coming may foretell the Final Days, as detailed in Rage Across the Heavens. But this is a totally unprecedented event, the effects of which haven't become fully clear to werewolf society.
•Do females bearing metis really give birth in Crinos? Yes, by sheer necessity. Trying to give birth in any other form would probably kill both the mother and the child because of the size and shape of the metis baby in proportion to the mother's body (neither wolf nor human pelvic bones are up to the task). That's always an option if the character wants to die, of course, but it's both uncertain and extraordinarily painful.
•Considering all the prophecies about the End Times, could I play a perfect metis?
That wholly depends on your chronicle and the leniency of your Storyteller. One of the prophecies that presumably signals the End Times is indeed the birth of a perfect metis, the child of two presumably sterile metis. In the on going storyline, this event has already happened. If, however, you and your Storyteller want to diverge from the published storyline and metaplot, then other possibilities readily present themselves. Generally, though, the golden rule about playing metis is that without the stigma of their deformity, they aren't really metis at all. Don't forget too that the so called "perfect metis" has no physical deformities. Mental ones may or may not appear.
•How much are metis really accepted?
It varies by tribe and sept. Some are fairly open-minded towards metis. They take a pragmatic approach, believing that any werewolf is useful to Gaia's work. Other tribes are far more grudging, or particularly harsh and unforgiving. Some characters may find themselves born to one tribe yet reared with another, in which case their "adopted" tribe's totem and all other accoutrements become theirs despite the difference in blood. Of course, the metis' own actions are going to determine his place in the pack. Is he a team player? Does he persevere despite the odds? Eventually, he's going to earn some acceptance, even if it's a hit resentful. If another player is willing, perhaps her lupus or homid character could become a supporter of the metis and ease his way into the more central aspects of pack and sept life. The difficulties of life surrounding the metis should be used to enhance and complicate the roleplaying experience whenever possible.
Lupus
Only about one in eight Garou are born as wolves, and in some tribes lupus are practically nonexistent. Yet they are highly valued, for the skills, spiritual connection and insights they bring to the Nation, and for their blood, which keeps the wolf in the werewolf alive and viral. It's a fair guess anyone reading this has a clear idea of what it means to be human. The worldview of the wolf-born is more different than homids can grasp. Let's take a very brief look at what lupus bring to the table.
Senses and Awareness
Wolves have a weaker sense of color than humans; reds are especially difficult to discern. They can much better in darkness than humans, both because of in¬creased number of light-sensitive rod cells in the retina and because of a membrane behind the retina that reflects light back through the rod cells (the reason for "eye-shine" among many night critters). Recognition of motionless forms may be difficult as eyesight isn't that sharp comparatively, but any movement will draw a wolfs attention in a flash. Their field of view is quite a bit wider than ours —about 270 degrees—and much lower to the ground. This last part is often under-appreciated by humans, who can see farther from their lofty perch but often neglect to pay attention to anything at knee-level or below.
Hearing is generally a keener sense than sight. Wolves can hear the shuffling of a mouse in the ground or a packmate's howl from miles away. Besides hearing fainter noises than humans, they can also hear much higher-pitched sounds. Finally, they have mobile, parabolic-shaped ears capable of focusing — independently —on sounds to the front or directly to the side.
Though eyesight and hearing are important to survival, the wolf’s most important sense is olfaction; wolves rely on smell like humans rely on vision. In fact, given conflicting sensory input (say, a noise or movement upwind with no accompanying smell), the wolf may well ignore it as irrelevant (a flaw which a bounty-hunter with scent-blockers can use to his advantage ).
Thought
There's no way for a human to truly get into the mind of another species. A wolf can't communicate the answer even if she could comprehend the question; when asked, most lupus find the question irrelevant or perhaps too personal to formulate a satisfactory answer.
Wolf behavior is a combination of reflexive instinct and conscious thought. As social mammalian predators, they are intelligent and adept at learning from observation. However, they live in the "now," focused on this place at this moment. To them the past is a hazy place where associations dredge up memories as needed; the future is even more abstract. Wolves can make simple cause and effect connections, but the longer between cause and effect, the less likely they will connect the two. For example, an unpleasant experience with a porcupine will result in future avoidance of the spiny critters, but the wolf won't make the connection between being chased by bounty hunters today and killing sheep days ago.
One couldn't tell it by watching them lazing around all afternoon, but wolves with their well-developed brains are susceptible to boredom. They play with bones, spring mock ambushes on pack mates and tear around the tundra for the sheer thrill of it. They are also extremely curious creatures, obliged to investigate, however warily, anything new or different. If they ascertain a novel object to he neither threat nor food, wolves are apt to ignore it. A wolf on a hillside may sit for hours watching the plain and tasting the breeze with perfect contentment; in a small cage with no interesting stimuli, the animal's boredom will eventually transform into neurosis. The wolf-bum Garou may enjoy getting a plate of food, but after a while the desire to forage will outweigh the satisfaction of an easy meal.
In the weeks or months before the Change, the mind of the lupus begins to expand. The awakening of intellect is subtle at first; the pre-Changer sees connec¬tions and makes intuitive leaps a little faster than her pack mates. She may even be able to grasp abstractions and pin distant causes to present effects (or vice versa ). She becomes adept at outwitting enemies and out¬thinking rivals; many young lupus use their sharpening wits to move up the social ladder, and would be pillars of the pack if Rage and the Change didn't intervene.
The Life of a wolf
Born into a pack, the wolf bonds with those around her, eventually learning to distrust strangers. By tussling within the litter, she eventually learns her standing among brothers and sisters. She begs food from her aunts and uncles, strengthening her connection with the pack. As she grows older, her natural instincts to hunt are bolstered and sharpened as the adults teach her what she needs to know. She makes frequent displays of affection and submission to the alphas — particularly the female, since playing coy with the male will bring the anger of his jealous mate (since most pack members are related, only the alphas mate).
Once free of the den, she joins the pack as they drift nomadically across their territory, which may range from 30 square miles (even less in forested regions) to hundreds or even thousands of square miles. Any intruding wolves they catch will be chased off if they are lucky, or killed if they aren't. Packs will fight over territory, but for the most part they respect each other's territory rather than face the loss of hunting time and risk of injury from frequent interpack strife. Accidental meetings are largely prevented because wolves scent-mark their territory. They use their hallmark, the howl, to warn off other packs, marking territory by sound rather than scent. They also howl to assemble the pack when it is scattered. Most commonly, however, the howl is a ritual of social bonding. The pack gathers excitedly, uttering a series of yips and shun yowls until the cries lengthen and rise above the pack in the familiar ululating howl. The pack members move together, fur to fur, as their voices dance around each other in the eerie song that makes the hair stand on end. The relationship between pack members is complex. They live, hunt and play together. When a member dies, the pack mourns. Yet, a pack mate who falls ill may be driven off or even killed. Depending on the alphas' temperament and the ease of hunting, a wounded pack mate may be forced out or allowed to stay until health returns.
Although they do scavenge, wolves are hunters first and foremost. Between their natural endowments (speed, endurance, sharp fangs and sharper senses) and social structure ( pack hunting), wolves are well-adapted to taking down large prey such as elk and even moose (Never Cry Wolf notwithstanding, biologists have never found a wolf population which relies consistently on small prey. If they did, there would be little need for packing up in the first place). But even with their advantages hunting isn't easy- The prey may outpace the pack or successfully defend against their sorties; usually only the very old or very young, the lame, the sick, and the unlucky fall to the jaws of the wolves —perhaps fewer than I in 10 deer they pursue actually fill their bellies. The chances of getting skull or ribs shattered by a hoof are good, and such wounds must heal on their own and quickly, else the wolf's bleached bones will litter the tundra. If they are lucky the pack gorges, eating as much as 20 pounds of meat in one sitting, spending long afternoons lounging as their heavy meals digest. If the hunt was exceptionally fruitful, some pack members may bury part of the kill, returning for the saved meal in leaner times.
Wolves are very good at what they do; they have to be because in the wild there is little room for error_ As it is, life is hard and short; while wild wolves have been known to live fifteen years, the average is closer to five. Should she survive to adulthood, the wolf may leave the pack and wander hundreds of miles before finding a new pack that accepts her — or a mate to start a new pack with. Many if not most lupus are filled with restlessness shortly before the Change, and so are traveling alone when found by their tribe — or by Black Spiral Dancers.
The Change
It usually happens when the wolf is two or three years old; strange dreams and a fraying temper assail the lupus. She may find herself avoided by the pack, or even driven out alternately, she may fight her way to the alpha position, though non-Kinfolk will still shy away. When the Change hits full force, though, her life turns on its ear. The order of things is irrevocably altered, but if she's lucky fellow werewolves appear quickly to guide her to her new life.
• Forms
Perhaps the most immediate and obvious change is the many forms. Hispo is fairly easy to master (and is frequently the life-long preference to the Crinos form in battle), but the two-legged versions are tricky at first. Movement is a trial, of course, because of balance. Also, cold is a more critical factor than previously. On the other hand some of the wolf-born are fascinated by the opportunities the two-legged forms present. Many you lupus spend a great deal of time simply picking things up, going out of their way to shake hands, or even performing other manual acts. More than one wolf-born has been caught lounging in Homid form, scratching his head )Or back or elsewhere) in the throws of ecstasy, to the perverse amusement of his fellow garou.
• Senses
After First Change, a lupus discerns colors, especially reds, more clearly than before. They find their senses stay sharp through Hispo and Crinos, though in the latter the fires of Rage simmer close to the surface, blurring or skewing perception. Perception atrophies in Glabro and becomes frighteningly dull in Humid. Many lupus experience a few moments of panic the first rime they view their world in the naked form; the once-vivid geography of odor has disappeared, leaving only the strongest, rankest scents noticeable. At the same time, their field of vision has narrowed dramatically, yet the view is sharper and more vivid — and several feet higher. This is the sensory trade-off: the primary sense of smell is replaced by the primary sense of sight.
• Spirit
As a breed, lupus are better attuned to the spirit world than their humid or metis counterparts. Why this is so has long been a subject of debate among Garou philosophers (mostly homids, for as mentioned previously the average lupus would find the why of the matter irrelevant compared with the fact itself — though some wolf-born are not above rubbing the homids' noses in their "spiritual superiority."). The hypothesis that wolves are more likely to travel through untainted wilderness and dwell closer to spiritually brilliant caerns is easily discarded. The notion that lupus are imbued with Gnosis as a mark of Gaia's favor over the other breeds is also dismissed by most — and quickly, as that belief could prove divisive if generally accepted in the Garou nation. The most accepted (and acceptable) theory pertains to wolf awareness. As mentioned before, wolves' sensory range far exceeds that of humans in many respects. Humans have often noted how their domesticated cousins have awareness that at times borders on the supernatural. Witness documented tales of dogs alerting their epileptic owners of seizures well before they happen, or the oft experienced but never explained way a dog or cat will perk up and stare at what to us is empty space. How likely then that wolves sometimes hear the roiling of the over stressed Gauntlet as background noise, or glimpse the movement of beings more spirit than flesh? Perhaps, as many Stargazers held, wolves achieve a certain enlightenment by existing in a "now" which is free of rational thought; they spend more time seeing and hearing and less time thinking, while most humans do just the opposite. Should it then surprise that the dullest lupus Firster is more attuned to the otherworld than the average man-cub?
With that in mind, it is ironic that the breed with the strongest ties to the spiritual is often the least equipped to handle the concept. Whether or not they believe in a spirit world and anima, most humans have at least been exposed to the general idea. On seeing a spirit for the first time, words like angel, ghost or demon might come to a homid's mind. Most wolves have no idea that a world exists beyond what can be smelled or touched; asking one to wrap her mind around the notion of a parallel universe that occupies the same space is like asking a blind man to grasp "blue." While many lupus have actually sensed spirits at one time or another, they have no frame of reference for describing the things. They see something familiar yet unfathomable, something that is often to be avoided and, should it disappear, deemed irrelevant to survival and thus forgotten. The humid Firster, even if initially skeptical, can conjure a mental image of a "spirit world," whereas most lupus reward their teacher with a confused stare. In such instances, some patient elders will use a local pond as an analogy, pointing to the strange life within, separated from the world above by a distinct harrier: the surface. After splashing around in the pond for a while, most lupus will spontaneously step sideways.
Discovering the spirit world and accepting it as their own are two different things. Reactions to the Umbra vary from lupus to lupus; most are apprehensive, as wolves are naturally wary of the unfamiliar. Some cubs will spend hours carefully sniffing at their spiritual surroundings, gradually moving outward through the penumbra until their apprehension fades. A few lucky ones pass through this phase almost immediately, reveling in the world they subconsciously knew existed but were unable to frame in their minds. Initial meetings with spirits may be sources of consternation or amusement depending on luck and disposition. Eventually, most lupus embrace their spiritual natures, becoming equally at home hunting englings and deer. Unfortunately not every lupus is so lucky, and some Galliards hear of wolf-born who never integrate the spiritual with the physical. These poor wretches develop phobias related to spirits or the Umbra, and are shunned by their more balanced kindred.
• It's a Man's World
Besides coming to grips with the external, spiritual side of their lives, the four- legs face an expansion of their inner world that can be just as frightening. Lupus aren't stupid; already cunning, the Change gifts them with cognition on par with any homid's. Thinking like a homid is frankly tricky; their minds are constantly playing with abstraction like ideals or “what if?” – heck, homids frequently think in words, while Joe Lupus flows from concept to concept. Which brings us to another handicap; language. Homids are fortunate in that the basic language of wolves comes pretty naturally. Sure, Nuances take time to master, but the two-legger can get their point across once they stop their mental flailing and let their “wolf-brains” take over. Human language isn’t so intuitive; a wolf from Alaska can pretty get his point across with any other wild wolf, but there are well over a thousand human languages and untold dialect. Many homids treat their lupus companions as dim-witted children because that is how they seem to talk. It takes time for the wolf-born to pick up the local “monkey talk” not because they are mentally inferior, but because they lag about 13 or more years behind their human-born comrade. Belonging to a bilingual sept, as might be found in south Texas or the Balkin, can be even more confusing. Lupus actually leanr the local tongue(s) more rapidly then one would expect because of immersion, assuming they don’t always shift to Lupus to communicate, but it still requires time. Imagine the frustration of trying to communicate in Homid form the first few times – not only are your sense dulled, but with fixed ears, no tail and vertical posture you can’t “speak” any more than a human could with no tongue and a bag over his head.
Lupus do have an aptitude for one language, yet still must learn it as any other: body language. Wolves are keen to the nuances of odor, the subtle shifts of posture, the rise and fall of vocalization, even the set of the jaw or the size of the iris. Homid body language is quite different, yet frustratingly similar. As mentioned before, homids have no tails and immobile ears, and they bare their teeth when they're happy and make prolonged eye contact, which may or may not be threatening. It's not unlike an English speaker trying to understand German: there are just enough similarities to get you in trouble.
Worse still, homids have the irritating habit of prevarication. They are forever saying things they don't mean, whether they're "being polite" or outright lying. Even when no deceit is intended, the language can mislead, such as the man who angrily growls, "Isn't this great?! That's just wonderful!" How can a wolf learn to understand their "adopted" relations under these circumstances? And yet they do, eventually. Once a lupus figures out the code of double-speak and contextual understanding, and the sensory cues humans aren't even aware of, she can pick up on the mood and perhaps even intentions of those around her. The most experienced lupus Philodox can outperform a lie detector without the use of a Gift.
Garou often find lupus lacking in knowledge and resources others take for granted. Even if they live in a wilderness, most werewolves use money, drive places and have at least a tenuous connection to human society; all these help the warriors in their fight against the foes of Gaia, and lupus cannot contribute these assets. Furthermore, lupus won't understand any cultural reference without some serious training. That includes stoplights, money, senators, Braveheart, Star Wars, social mores, rock music, classical music, Mickey Mouse, fast food, Nazism (or any other–ism ), Freud, due process, "Read My Lips"... you get the idea. Urinating in public is an easy habit to break, but fashion sense takes a while to instill; Joe Lupus can be convinced to cover his body in the city, but those dirty orange coveralls may stand out uptown. Likewise, his buddies may have a hard time keeping him from threatening some cop who stared at him a little too long.
Yakkty yak
To a lupus, the favorite activity of homids seems to be talking. They babble on and on about little or nothing. They especially prize abstract concepts, which are vague enough to contain even more words. Most lupus see value in words, because for planning or describing complexity human language does go where wolf speech can't, but economy is key. Lupus speech is typically simple and spare, with no flowery phrases or unnecessary elaboration. A lupus in the role of the sept's Truthcatcher will pierce deceptions and cast aside all extenuating circumstances to reach the heart of a matter, and return a swift, sure judgment. There are exceptions, of course. Some four-leggers are fascinated with homid ways of talking, and become proficient themselves. Gall lards in particular find the tales of homids can really be told only in the native tongue. Of course, all werewolves are expected to learn the Garou tongue, and few see a need to refuse. Regardless of the language, though, a lupus quickly grows impa¬tient with talking, arguing, and overplanning; it's nor what you say, it's what you do that's important.
Some lupus react to the culture shock by rejecting the humid world. Others vow vengeance for the con¬tinuing persecution of wolves, or for more personal reasons such as the memories of their kin’s slaughter. They refuse to learn “monkey-speech” or to have anything to do with humanity ( apart from killing the worst of them). Some misanthropes associate with like-minded four-leggers in fringe camps, while a few forsake their tribe to run with Red Talons. The wiser among them never let the word Impergiurn cross their tongues – in front of homids , anyway – but the extremists long for those ancient days. Even “well adjusted” lupus carry biases against human, whether universally or just in general ( i.e “Humans are greedy and untrustworthy…but my packmates are all all right.”). The fact that homid werewolves often look down on their Lupus brethren ( In a metaphorical sense) does little to improve relation between the two. Such tensions rarely get in the way of battle – that would be treachery to Gaia – but in peacetime misunderstandings and real or perceived slights may test the cohesion and harmony of a mixed breed spet.
• Loss
Emotionally, one of the most difficult things for a lupus to contend with is the fact that not only will he outlive his littermates and several generations of their offspring, but that most of his own wolf children will precede him into the long night. Worse, their memo¬ries will linger in his werewolf brain more vividly than they would have in his wolf mind. The pain of loss drives some males to seek out human Kinfolk as mates. A few refuse to mate at all, but this is rare — instinct and Garou societal pressures demand renewal.
• Why Bother?
No one will gainsay the necessity of having the four-leggers around, but with all the handicaps they start with, why would a pack want to include a lupus? For starters, it is the rare pack that never leaves the confines of the Scabs. Just as homids are the masters of human culture and cities, so are lupus the ones to beat away from town. A young lupus can track circles around homid companions, and generally has a much better idea about living in (and with) the wilderness. Furthermore, the four- legger can use his heightened senses to best effect, an ability that takes homids years to master. Just as in a military or police K-9 unit, a patrolling pack finds its lupus to be invaluable, catch¬ing clues even a homid in Lupus misses. In addition, the wolf-born generally have a superior grasp of hier¬archy, being quick to submit yet quick to exploit true weakness. Young homids too often exhibit pointless rebellion that gets them throated a few times before wising up. Thus young lupus tend to do well within Garou society, at least at first. They lose the advantage unless they adapt to the political wrangling which homids bring to the game, but for a pack of cliath, they could do worse then have a lupus spokesman.
Essence of the Breed
The wolf turned-werewolf soon learns his role has fundamentally changed. From birth, he was a hunter, killing for food, defending his territory or running away as braery or prudence dictates. With the Change, his role becomes that of the warrior, the aggressor who fights for more than survival, who takes the fight to an enemy. The hunter backs down and tucks tail when outmatched, for survival is paramount. To the warrior, to the Garou, personal survival is a minor consideration when compared to saving and serving Gaia, winning the admiration of his peers, and feeling the joy of foes giving way before his claws. He is wolf, he is human, and he is more than either. The lupus is envied for his connection to a spirit world which as a cub he never knew existed. He holds the waning, most primal aspects of the werewolves as his legacy.
To the Kennel Born
If the wolf is a quick and cunning predator, it is because his environment made him so. What then of the wolf born and raised in captivity? Many urban-dwelling werewolves keep their four-legged Kin in zoos or special preserves or, for the most destitute, in basements, safe from harm but never knowing the long lope across prairie or through forest. Their food is cold, long dead — or perhaps merely processed kibble. Wolf blood thins in the veins of most tribes, but for the city dwellers it is dangerously diluted, Keeping their wolf brethren caged in steel and concrete is often the only option for them, but most werewolves find such captivity abominable. Rumors circulate about raids on Glass Walker enclaves to liberate captive wolves, but the details are sketchy; some say a pack of Red Talons are behind the strikes, others implicate the Furies and some ecoterrorist Kin. The Walkers either say nothing or warn of what would happen to anyone caught messing with their Kin, but none have actually denied the raids happened.
What does growing up within walls do to a lupus? For most, their senses and reflexes are dulled by inactivity, although some Walkers and Gnawers develop "training regimes" involving obstacle courses and games to "enhance development-"They generally become more attuned to the sights, sounds and smells which drive their wilder kin nuts. Depending on their training, they may already he familiar with many of rules of the city such as when to cross the street, how to avoid dogcatchers and get around barbed wire without a snag (they may even be housebroken!) Some discover a close affinity for the Weaver, and can dance across the pattern webs almost as well as the spiders that weave them. But few city-raised lupus ever feel at home in the wild, where sounds and smells are more muted and subtle. Certainly their foraging skills are little better than homids'. Sadly, a handful of captive-born four-leggers never adjust after the Change; they long for the song of the wind in the pines, the open horizon, the ebb and flow of Gaia. . things they've never felt but instinctively desire. These poor beasts are miserable, antisocial wretches who usually fall into Harano and sometimes end up picking fights with subway trains. City werewolves often ship these maladjusted lupus to septs in the country, but that may not be enough; after a life on concrete, they often find they can't hack it in the place they truly need to be — which is even more terrible than never knowing what they are missing.
In the World of Darkness, lycanthropy is not a disease but an inheritable trait. As dual beings (being both wolves and men), Garou can (and do) interbreed with both species. A Garou's extended non-shapechanging family is called its Kinfolk. Most often, Garou are born to one non-Garou and one Garou parent but in families (both wolf and human) where Garou blood is especially strong, Homid or Lupus Garou sometimes are born from non-shapeshifting parents.
The circumstances of their parentage determines their breed. A Garou born in human form is called a homid; a Garou born in wolf form is called a lupus. The breed or species of the mother determines the breed of the Garou. A Garou born from two Garou parents is called a Metis and is invariably deformed as a result of this inbreeding, as well as completely sterile; however, Metis have Gifts and advantages exclusive to their breed, including the ability to regenerate in all their various forms and a deeper understanding of Garou society owing to their pre-change life exclusively amongst the Garou. Once pariahs in Garou society, trying times have led to the partial integration of the Metis breed into the ranks of the Garou. A werewolf's breed determines (to some extent) their Gnosis, or spiritual awareness (Lupus Garou being more in tune with the primal spirit world than Homids, and Metis Garou being in between).
Prior to their First Change, Garou typically live amongst their kinfolk; in most cases, non-metis Garou are raised unaware of their true nature. Garou usually experience their first change during puberty, occurring in the early teenage years for homids, around 1–2 years of age for lupus, and typically about 6–10 years of age for metis. Prior to this change, the proto-garou is usually unable to change forms, a condition that rarely causes difficulty amongst the homid and lupus, but which confines the metis to the perimeter (or bawn) of Garou-held holy places called caerns.
In general, while most non-metis Garou leave their native societies to live among their shapechanging kin (engaging in a modern primitive lifestyle), they retain healthy contact with their Kinfolk to ensure their protection as family and the overall health and vitality of the Garou line.
Metis
The moment of conception, the life of a metis is one filled with hardships. She is clearly a werewolf, but one forced to stay always at the margins of her culture. The metis child's birth is agonizing for the mother on spiritual, physical and emotional planes. And if the child survives long enough for her First Change, life improves only marginally. A homid or lupus werewolf will seldom accept a metis as an equal, no matter what her deeds and heroism. So why bother? What's the draw of playing one of these werewolves anyway?
First of all, there's the knowledge that comes with being a metiss. While generally raised apart from the homid and lupus cubs of a Sept, metis are still much more in the know than the typical homid or lupus werewolf before First Change and the Rite of Passage. Even at the fringes of Garou society, metis are able to acquire a good chunk of information; they're unwanted children, but they're still included in family life, albeit grudgingly. They know, for example, about the tribes, the Litany, moots, the Triat, the day-to-day running of a sept and the intricacies of rank and challenge. Maybe metis don't have all the details down pat, but the vocabulary and basic concepts are there. They might not be active participants in sept life, but they do see its realities. Compare this to an unwitting homid teenager who knows nothing about werewolves except from television and movies, and the advantages are evident. Also, for an experienced player who is "in the know" about many aspects of the Werewolf setting, playing a metis helps alleviate the "play dumb" syndrome. In other words, since the character has some knowledge, the player doesn't have to pretend he doesn't know what a moot is.
Second, playing a metis can be a great challenge. Maybe you've always stuck with more stereotypical characters, such as the fierce Get Ahroun or the technogeek Glass Walker Ragahash. Now, maybe you want to try something new, a situation where your character's place in the pack isn't so clear-cut or respected. Working out where your character belongs, fighting for approval and showing your convictions as a true warrior of Gaia can offer ample roleplaying opportunities as well as the chance to explore the depths of what it means to be metis in werewolf society
Finally, consider the spiritual connection metis have to Gala and the Umbra, which Gnosis represents. While lesser than the lupus', it's much greater than the homid's. Metis have innate hunches about matters of the Umbra and other spiritual affairs. In fact, some of the canniest Theurges are metis, able to parlay with spirits and follow prophetic dreams with great acumen.
So, should new players be discouraged from playing metis? Not necessarily. If a newbie has considered and is eager to explore some of the difficulties metis face, fellow players and the Storyteller should by all means encourage him. Players (and Storytellers) are generally happier when they have a character that interests them; it makes for better roleplaying as well as more material for the Storyteller's plots.he role his metis character will play in the chronicle
A word on Deformities
All metis have some sort of visible deformity, whether it's physical or behavioral; that's just a fact of playing the character. And anyone who tries to turn the defect into an advantage probably doesn't really want to play a metis after all, since it's so intrinsic to the breed. As a player, though, consider how the deformity impacts the character's life and how in turn she responds to the deformity. Some characters might try to ignore the blemish, wearing concealing makeup or prosthetic; others might choose to enhance it in some gruesome way, making sure their identity is overtly and grotesquely apparent to others. Also, think about when or if the character ever wants to conceal the deformity. It's a mark against her honor to try and cover up the shame of her birth, but what if there're extenuating circumstances? Would it be worth it? What might happen if her true form was discovered? Deliberating some of these points can add considerable depth to the character, letting her stand apart from other metis in the group.
Breaking the Mold
The typical metis has grown up on the fringes of werewolf culture, learning scraps of information and getting enough care to stay alive… but she's still sort of an omega wolf. That's the stereotype, anyway. But what about making this scenario a hit more complex, giving the metis character a more unique background? Consider the rare metis child who, because of her tribe's outlook or some unusual act of bravery or a famous prophecy, was actually welcomed and treated kindly. For the years before her First Change, she suffered little ostracism. But shortly after the Rite of Passage (and before the actual chronicle starts), this metis loses everything. Black Spirals destroy her sept and her family, and now she's alone, looking for a new pack. The character may he an inevitable case of Harano, but she wants to survive and avenge her family, even if it means sticking with homid and lupus who find her disgusting. A similar concept might be the metis child of two famous werewolves. Because of his parentage, the metis receives some grudging acceptance, at least to his face. Behind his back, though, he's a laughing stock. How will the character react? An¬other option, relying heavily on the whims of the Storyteller, is bringing a metis character full circle. Perhaps he starts life more or less normally, but after constant rejection, becomes bitter and in his heart, rejects his culture. Part of the "transformation" of the character throughout the chronicle involves finding his way back to being a loyal member of a pack or Sept. The whole objective here is to think about other ways to twist the stereotype so that every metis isn't the same old bitter outcast, time after time.
Another way to break the mold is to have a metis character with the Background Pure Breed. Assuming both parents come from the same tribe, a metis can have just as fine a pedigree as any other werewolf; even the "nobles" among the werewolves can have an oops. A well-bred metis may face less prejudice to his face. Of course, that doesn't mean there won't be subtle cuts here and there, as well as a lot of sneers behind his back. And even Pure Breed doesn't guarantee full acceptance within a pack; the metis will have to earn that place, just like everyone else. No doubt the other characters will be a little guarded in their acknowledgment of the metis as well.
Tribal Outlooks
Typically, tribes take one of three perspectives on metis (though keep in mind there are always exceptions to these generalizations). Some openly despise these misfits and make no excuses; the Fianna, Red Talons, Silver Fangs and Wendigo fall into this category. The only reason they allow metis to live usually involves some important prophecy or a pulling of rank by a werewolf who doesn't want the offspring (and possibly the parents) to die. Sometimes they give the young metis to other, less skeptical tribes to raise as their own.
Others, such as the Black Furies, Get of Fenris and Uktena, give grudging acceptance, but really dislike what the metis represent. They may not speak openly about the prejudice, but it's there. Finally, some tribes don't care overmuch one way or the other, if the metis serves well and loyally, like any other pack member. Bone Gnawers, Children of Gaia, Glass Walkers, Shadow Lords and Silent Striders often take this perspective. They're the ones who usually take unwanted metis and put them to work. For all intents and purposes, even if the metis is born to another tribe, she takes on the totem, Gifts and all other features of her adoptive tribe
A Few Questions
• When does a metis undergo First Change?
This varies somewhat, for unknown reasons. Some metis can take their other forms in early childhood, around age four or five. Others must remain in their breed form until ages nine or 10.. Some werewolves believe that metis born of two lupus undergo the Change earlier than the offspring of two homids, but no one's made a scientific study of this.
• Can metis have sex, even though they are sterile? What about two metis having sex? What about mating?
Yes, metis can have sex; the parts, as it were, work just fine. It's just that no conception can take place. Still, most werewolves are going to frown on metis engaging in coitus even with non-Kin humans or wolves who could potentially have legitimate marinas with homid or lupus Garou (remember, not all werewolves are born from Garou and Kin; sometimes, normal humans or wolves can have werewolf offspring). As far as honorably mating with a Kinfolk, that's another big problem. With the numbers of werewolves dwindling, most tribes want their Kin to marry with Garou or at least other Kin. There is a certain pressure to reproduce and swell the numbers of Gaia's warriors. Metis who fall in love with Kin and desire to be honorably mated are going to have a difficult time; this scenario has all the makings of a most tragic love story and great fodder for the chronicle. And the werewolves aren't going to approve of metis pairing up with each other, either; even though there's no possibility of offspring, the Litany still says Garou shouldn't mate with Garou. There has been one ex¬ception is of course the perfect child of two metis whose coming may foretell the Final Days, as detailed in Rage Across the Heavens. But this is a totally unprecedented event, the effects of which haven't become fully clear to werewolf society.
•Do females bearing metis really give birth in Crinos? Yes, by sheer necessity. Trying to give birth in any other form would probably kill both the mother and the child because of the size and shape of the metis baby in proportion to the mother's body (neither wolf nor human pelvic bones are up to the task). That's always an option if the character wants to die, of course, but it's both uncertain and extraordinarily painful.
•Considering all the prophecies about the End Times, could I play a perfect metis?
That wholly depends on your chronicle and the leniency of your Storyteller. One of the prophecies that presumably signals the End Times is indeed the birth of a perfect metis, the child of two presumably sterile metis. In the on going storyline, this event has already happened. If, however, you and your Storyteller want to diverge from the published storyline and metaplot, then other possibilities readily present themselves. Generally, though, the golden rule about playing metis is that without the stigma of their deformity, they aren't really metis at all. Don't forget too that the so called "perfect metis" has no physical deformities. Mental ones may or may not appear.
•How much are metis really accepted?
It varies by tribe and sept. Some are fairly open-minded towards metis. They take a pragmatic approach, believing that any werewolf is useful to Gaia's work. Other tribes are far more grudging, or particularly harsh and unforgiving. Some characters may find themselves born to one tribe yet reared with another, in which case their "adopted" tribe's totem and all other accoutrements become theirs despite the difference in blood. Of course, the metis' own actions are going to determine his place in the pack. Is he a team player? Does he persevere despite the odds? Eventually, he's going to earn some acceptance, even if it's a hit resentful. If another player is willing, perhaps her lupus or homid character could become a supporter of the metis and ease his way into the more central aspects of pack and sept life. The difficulties of life surrounding the metis should be used to enhance and complicate the roleplaying experience whenever possible.
Lupus
Only about one in eight Garou are born as wolves, and in some tribes lupus are practically nonexistent. Yet they are highly valued, for the skills, spiritual connection and insights they bring to the Nation, and for their blood, which keeps the wolf in the werewolf alive and viral. It's a fair guess anyone reading this has a clear idea of what it means to be human. The worldview of the wolf-born is more different than homids can grasp. Let's take a very brief look at what lupus bring to the table.
Senses and Awareness
Wolves have a weaker sense of color than humans; reds are especially difficult to discern. They can much better in darkness than humans, both because of in¬creased number of light-sensitive rod cells in the retina and because of a membrane behind the retina that reflects light back through the rod cells (the reason for "eye-shine" among many night critters). Recognition of motionless forms may be difficult as eyesight isn't that sharp comparatively, but any movement will draw a wolfs attention in a flash. Their field of view is quite a bit wider than ours —about 270 degrees—and much lower to the ground. This last part is often under-appreciated by humans, who can see farther from their lofty perch but often neglect to pay attention to anything at knee-level or below.
Hearing is generally a keener sense than sight. Wolves can hear the shuffling of a mouse in the ground or a packmate's howl from miles away. Besides hearing fainter noises than humans, they can also hear much higher-pitched sounds. Finally, they have mobile, parabolic-shaped ears capable of focusing — independently —on sounds to the front or directly to the side.
Though eyesight and hearing are important to survival, the wolf’s most important sense is olfaction; wolves rely on smell like humans rely on vision. In fact, given conflicting sensory input (say, a noise or movement upwind with no accompanying smell), the wolf may well ignore it as irrelevant (a flaw which a bounty-hunter with scent-blockers can use to his advantage ).
Thought
There's no way for a human to truly get into the mind of another species. A wolf can't communicate the answer even if she could comprehend the question; when asked, most lupus find the question irrelevant or perhaps too personal to formulate a satisfactory answer.
Wolf behavior is a combination of reflexive instinct and conscious thought. As social mammalian predators, they are intelligent and adept at learning from observation. However, they live in the "now," focused on this place at this moment. To them the past is a hazy place where associations dredge up memories as needed; the future is even more abstract. Wolves can make simple cause and effect connections, but the longer between cause and effect, the less likely they will connect the two. For example, an unpleasant experience with a porcupine will result in future avoidance of the spiny critters, but the wolf won't make the connection between being chased by bounty hunters today and killing sheep days ago.
One couldn't tell it by watching them lazing around all afternoon, but wolves with their well-developed brains are susceptible to boredom. They play with bones, spring mock ambushes on pack mates and tear around the tundra for the sheer thrill of it. They are also extremely curious creatures, obliged to investigate, however warily, anything new or different. If they ascertain a novel object to he neither threat nor food, wolves are apt to ignore it. A wolf on a hillside may sit for hours watching the plain and tasting the breeze with perfect contentment; in a small cage with no interesting stimuli, the animal's boredom will eventually transform into neurosis. The wolf-bum Garou may enjoy getting a plate of food, but after a while the desire to forage will outweigh the satisfaction of an easy meal.
In the weeks or months before the Change, the mind of the lupus begins to expand. The awakening of intellect is subtle at first; the pre-Changer sees connec¬tions and makes intuitive leaps a little faster than her pack mates. She may even be able to grasp abstractions and pin distant causes to present effects (or vice versa ). She becomes adept at outwitting enemies and out¬thinking rivals; many young lupus use their sharpening wits to move up the social ladder, and would be pillars of the pack if Rage and the Change didn't intervene.
The Life of a wolf
Born into a pack, the wolf bonds with those around her, eventually learning to distrust strangers. By tussling within the litter, she eventually learns her standing among brothers and sisters. She begs food from her aunts and uncles, strengthening her connection with the pack. As she grows older, her natural instincts to hunt are bolstered and sharpened as the adults teach her what she needs to know. She makes frequent displays of affection and submission to the alphas — particularly the female, since playing coy with the male will bring the anger of his jealous mate (since most pack members are related, only the alphas mate).
Once free of the den, she joins the pack as they drift nomadically across their territory, which may range from 30 square miles (even less in forested regions) to hundreds or even thousands of square miles. Any intruding wolves they catch will be chased off if they are lucky, or killed if they aren't. Packs will fight over territory, but for the most part they respect each other's territory rather than face the loss of hunting time and risk of injury from frequent interpack strife. Accidental meetings are largely prevented because wolves scent-mark their territory. They use their hallmark, the howl, to warn off other packs, marking territory by sound rather than scent. They also howl to assemble the pack when it is scattered. Most commonly, however, the howl is a ritual of social bonding. The pack gathers excitedly, uttering a series of yips and shun yowls until the cries lengthen and rise above the pack in the familiar ululating howl. The pack members move together, fur to fur, as their voices dance around each other in the eerie song that makes the hair stand on end. The relationship between pack members is complex. They live, hunt and play together. When a member dies, the pack mourns. Yet, a pack mate who falls ill may be driven off or even killed. Depending on the alphas' temperament and the ease of hunting, a wounded pack mate may be forced out or allowed to stay until health returns.
Although they do scavenge, wolves are hunters first and foremost. Between their natural endowments (speed, endurance, sharp fangs and sharper senses) and social structure ( pack hunting), wolves are well-adapted to taking down large prey such as elk and even moose (Never Cry Wolf notwithstanding, biologists have never found a wolf population which relies consistently on small prey. If they did, there would be little need for packing up in the first place). But even with their advantages hunting isn't easy- The prey may outpace the pack or successfully defend against their sorties; usually only the very old or very young, the lame, the sick, and the unlucky fall to the jaws of the wolves —perhaps fewer than I in 10 deer they pursue actually fill their bellies. The chances of getting skull or ribs shattered by a hoof are good, and such wounds must heal on their own and quickly, else the wolf's bleached bones will litter the tundra. If they are lucky the pack gorges, eating as much as 20 pounds of meat in one sitting, spending long afternoons lounging as their heavy meals digest. If the hunt was exceptionally fruitful, some pack members may bury part of the kill, returning for the saved meal in leaner times.
Wolves are very good at what they do; they have to be because in the wild there is little room for error_ As it is, life is hard and short; while wild wolves have been known to live fifteen years, the average is closer to five. Should she survive to adulthood, the wolf may leave the pack and wander hundreds of miles before finding a new pack that accepts her — or a mate to start a new pack with. Many if not most lupus are filled with restlessness shortly before the Change, and so are traveling alone when found by their tribe — or by Black Spiral Dancers.
The Change
It usually happens when the wolf is two or three years old; strange dreams and a fraying temper assail the lupus. She may find herself avoided by the pack, or even driven out alternately, she may fight her way to the alpha position, though non-Kinfolk will still shy away. When the Change hits full force, though, her life turns on its ear. The order of things is irrevocably altered, but if she's lucky fellow werewolves appear quickly to guide her to her new life.
• Forms
Perhaps the most immediate and obvious change is the many forms. Hispo is fairly easy to master (and is frequently the life-long preference to the Crinos form in battle), but the two-legged versions are tricky at first. Movement is a trial, of course, because of balance. Also, cold is a more critical factor than previously. On the other hand some of the wolf-born are fascinated by the opportunities the two-legged forms present. Many you lupus spend a great deal of time simply picking things up, going out of their way to shake hands, or even performing other manual acts. More than one wolf-born has been caught lounging in Homid form, scratching his head )Or back or elsewhere) in the throws of ecstasy, to the perverse amusement of his fellow garou.
• Senses
After First Change, a lupus discerns colors, especially reds, more clearly than before. They find their senses stay sharp through Hispo and Crinos, though in the latter the fires of Rage simmer close to the surface, blurring or skewing perception. Perception atrophies in Glabro and becomes frighteningly dull in Humid. Many lupus experience a few moments of panic the first rime they view their world in the naked form; the once-vivid geography of odor has disappeared, leaving only the strongest, rankest scents noticeable. At the same time, their field of vision has narrowed dramatically, yet the view is sharper and more vivid — and several feet higher. This is the sensory trade-off: the primary sense of smell is replaced by the primary sense of sight.
• Spirit
As a breed, lupus are better attuned to the spirit world than their humid or metis counterparts. Why this is so has long been a subject of debate among Garou philosophers (mostly homids, for as mentioned previously the average lupus would find the why of the matter irrelevant compared with the fact itself — though some wolf-born are not above rubbing the homids' noses in their "spiritual superiority."). The hypothesis that wolves are more likely to travel through untainted wilderness and dwell closer to spiritually brilliant caerns is easily discarded. The notion that lupus are imbued with Gnosis as a mark of Gaia's favor over the other breeds is also dismissed by most — and quickly, as that belief could prove divisive if generally accepted in the Garou nation. The most accepted (and acceptable) theory pertains to wolf awareness. As mentioned before, wolves' sensory range far exceeds that of humans in many respects. Humans have often noted how their domesticated cousins have awareness that at times borders on the supernatural. Witness documented tales of dogs alerting their epileptic owners of seizures well before they happen, or the oft experienced but never explained way a dog or cat will perk up and stare at what to us is empty space. How likely then that wolves sometimes hear the roiling of the over stressed Gauntlet as background noise, or glimpse the movement of beings more spirit than flesh? Perhaps, as many Stargazers held, wolves achieve a certain enlightenment by existing in a "now" which is free of rational thought; they spend more time seeing and hearing and less time thinking, while most humans do just the opposite. Should it then surprise that the dullest lupus Firster is more attuned to the otherworld than the average man-cub?
With that in mind, it is ironic that the breed with the strongest ties to the spiritual is often the least equipped to handle the concept. Whether or not they believe in a spirit world and anima, most humans have at least been exposed to the general idea. On seeing a spirit for the first time, words like angel, ghost or demon might come to a homid's mind. Most wolves have no idea that a world exists beyond what can be smelled or touched; asking one to wrap her mind around the notion of a parallel universe that occupies the same space is like asking a blind man to grasp "blue." While many lupus have actually sensed spirits at one time or another, they have no frame of reference for describing the things. They see something familiar yet unfathomable, something that is often to be avoided and, should it disappear, deemed irrelevant to survival and thus forgotten. The humid Firster, even if initially skeptical, can conjure a mental image of a "spirit world," whereas most lupus reward their teacher with a confused stare. In such instances, some patient elders will use a local pond as an analogy, pointing to the strange life within, separated from the world above by a distinct harrier: the surface. After splashing around in the pond for a while, most lupus will spontaneously step sideways.
Discovering the spirit world and accepting it as their own are two different things. Reactions to the Umbra vary from lupus to lupus; most are apprehensive, as wolves are naturally wary of the unfamiliar. Some cubs will spend hours carefully sniffing at their spiritual surroundings, gradually moving outward through the penumbra until their apprehension fades. A few lucky ones pass through this phase almost immediately, reveling in the world they subconsciously knew existed but were unable to frame in their minds. Initial meetings with spirits may be sources of consternation or amusement depending on luck and disposition. Eventually, most lupus embrace their spiritual natures, becoming equally at home hunting englings and deer. Unfortunately not every lupus is so lucky, and some Galliards hear of wolf-born who never integrate the spiritual with the physical. These poor wretches develop phobias related to spirits or the Umbra, and are shunned by their more balanced kindred.
• It's a Man's World
Besides coming to grips with the external, spiritual side of their lives, the four- legs face an expansion of their inner world that can be just as frightening. Lupus aren't stupid; already cunning, the Change gifts them with cognition on par with any homid's. Thinking like a homid is frankly tricky; their minds are constantly playing with abstraction like ideals or “what if?” – heck, homids frequently think in words, while Joe Lupus flows from concept to concept. Which brings us to another handicap; language. Homids are fortunate in that the basic language of wolves comes pretty naturally. Sure, Nuances take time to master, but the two-legger can get their point across once they stop their mental flailing and let their “wolf-brains” take over. Human language isn’t so intuitive; a wolf from Alaska can pretty get his point across with any other wild wolf, but there are well over a thousand human languages and untold dialect. Many homids treat their lupus companions as dim-witted children because that is how they seem to talk. It takes time for the wolf-born to pick up the local “monkey talk” not because they are mentally inferior, but because they lag about 13 or more years behind their human-born comrade. Belonging to a bilingual sept, as might be found in south Texas or the Balkin, can be even more confusing. Lupus actually leanr the local tongue(s) more rapidly then one would expect because of immersion, assuming they don’t always shift to Lupus to communicate, but it still requires time. Imagine the frustration of trying to communicate in Homid form the first few times – not only are your sense dulled, but with fixed ears, no tail and vertical posture you can’t “speak” any more than a human could with no tongue and a bag over his head.
Lupus do have an aptitude for one language, yet still must learn it as any other: body language. Wolves are keen to the nuances of odor, the subtle shifts of posture, the rise and fall of vocalization, even the set of the jaw or the size of the iris. Homid body language is quite different, yet frustratingly similar. As mentioned before, homids have no tails and immobile ears, and they bare their teeth when they're happy and make prolonged eye contact, which may or may not be threatening. It's not unlike an English speaker trying to understand German: there are just enough similarities to get you in trouble.
Worse still, homids have the irritating habit of prevarication. They are forever saying things they don't mean, whether they're "being polite" or outright lying. Even when no deceit is intended, the language can mislead, such as the man who angrily growls, "Isn't this great?! That's just wonderful!" How can a wolf learn to understand their "adopted" relations under these circumstances? And yet they do, eventually. Once a lupus figures out the code of double-speak and contextual understanding, and the sensory cues humans aren't even aware of, she can pick up on the mood and perhaps even intentions of those around her. The most experienced lupus Philodox can outperform a lie detector without the use of a Gift.
Garou often find lupus lacking in knowledge and resources others take for granted. Even if they live in a wilderness, most werewolves use money, drive places and have at least a tenuous connection to human society; all these help the warriors in their fight against the foes of Gaia, and lupus cannot contribute these assets. Furthermore, lupus won't understand any cultural reference without some serious training. That includes stoplights, money, senators, Braveheart, Star Wars, social mores, rock music, classical music, Mickey Mouse, fast food, Nazism (or any other–ism ), Freud, due process, "Read My Lips"... you get the idea. Urinating in public is an easy habit to break, but fashion sense takes a while to instill; Joe Lupus can be convinced to cover his body in the city, but those dirty orange coveralls may stand out uptown. Likewise, his buddies may have a hard time keeping him from threatening some cop who stared at him a little too long.
Yakkty yak
To a lupus, the favorite activity of homids seems to be talking. They babble on and on about little or nothing. They especially prize abstract concepts, which are vague enough to contain even more words. Most lupus see value in words, because for planning or describing complexity human language does go where wolf speech can't, but economy is key. Lupus speech is typically simple and spare, with no flowery phrases or unnecessary elaboration. A lupus in the role of the sept's Truthcatcher will pierce deceptions and cast aside all extenuating circumstances to reach the heart of a matter, and return a swift, sure judgment. There are exceptions, of course. Some four-leggers are fascinated with homid ways of talking, and become proficient themselves. Gall lards in particular find the tales of homids can really be told only in the native tongue. Of course, all werewolves are expected to learn the Garou tongue, and few see a need to refuse. Regardless of the language, though, a lupus quickly grows impa¬tient with talking, arguing, and overplanning; it's nor what you say, it's what you do that's important.
Some lupus react to the culture shock by rejecting the humid world. Others vow vengeance for the con¬tinuing persecution of wolves, or for more personal reasons such as the memories of their kin’s slaughter. They refuse to learn “monkey-speech” or to have anything to do with humanity ( apart from killing the worst of them). Some misanthropes associate with like-minded four-leggers in fringe camps, while a few forsake their tribe to run with Red Talons. The wiser among them never let the word Impergiurn cross their tongues – in front of homids , anyway – but the extremists long for those ancient days. Even “well adjusted” lupus carry biases against human, whether universally or just in general ( i.e “Humans are greedy and untrustworthy…but my packmates are all all right.”). The fact that homid werewolves often look down on their Lupus brethren ( In a metaphorical sense) does little to improve relation between the two. Such tensions rarely get in the way of battle – that would be treachery to Gaia – but in peacetime misunderstandings and real or perceived slights may test the cohesion and harmony of a mixed breed spet.
• Loss
Emotionally, one of the most difficult things for a lupus to contend with is the fact that not only will he outlive his littermates and several generations of their offspring, but that most of his own wolf children will precede him into the long night. Worse, their memo¬ries will linger in his werewolf brain more vividly than they would have in his wolf mind. The pain of loss drives some males to seek out human Kinfolk as mates. A few refuse to mate at all, but this is rare — instinct and Garou societal pressures demand renewal.
• Why Bother?
No one will gainsay the necessity of having the four-leggers around, but with all the handicaps they start with, why would a pack want to include a lupus? For starters, it is the rare pack that never leaves the confines of the Scabs. Just as homids are the masters of human culture and cities, so are lupus the ones to beat away from town. A young lupus can track circles around homid companions, and generally has a much better idea about living in (and with) the wilderness. Furthermore, the four- legger can use his heightened senses to best effect, an ability that takes homids years to master. Just as in a military or police K-9 unit, a patrolling pack finds its lupus to be invaluable, catch¬ing clues even a homid in Lupus misses. In addition, the wolf-born generally have a superior grasp of hier¬archy, being quick to submit yet quick to exploit true weakness. Young homids too often exhibit pointless rebellion that gets them throated a few times before wising up. Thus young lupus tend to do well within Garou society, at least at first. They lose the advantage unless they adapt to the political wrangling which homids bring to the game, but for a pack of cliath, they could do worse then have a lupus spokesman.
Essence of the Breed
The wolf turned-werewolf soon learns his role has fundamentally changed. From birth, he was a hunter, killing for food, defending his territory or running away as braery or prudence dictates. With the Change, his role becomes that of the warrior, the aggressor who fights for more than survival, who takes the fight to an enemy. The hunter backs down and tucks tail when outmatched, for survival is paramount. To the warrior, to the Garou, personal survival is a minor consideration when compared to saving and serving Gaia, winning the admiration of his peers, and feeling the joy of foes giving way before his claws. He is wolf, he is human, and he is more than either. The lupus is envied for his connection to a spirit world which as a cub he never knew existed. He holds the waning, most primal aspects of the werewolves as his legacy.
To the Kennel Born
If the wolf is a quick and cunning predator, it is because his environment made him so. What then of the wolf born and raised in captivity? Many urban-dwelling werewolves keep their four-legged Kin in zoos or special preserves or, for the most destitute, in basements, safe from harm but never knowing the long lope across prairie or through forest. Their food is cold, long dead — or perhaps merely processed kibble. Wolf blood thins in the veins of most tribes, but for the city dwellers it is dangerously diluted, Keeping their wolf brethren caged in steel and concrete is often the only option for them, but most werewolves find such captivity abominable. Rumors circulate about raids on Glass Walker enclaves to liberate captive wolves, but the details are sketchy; some say a pack of Red Talons are behind the strikes, others implicate the Furies and some ecoterrorist Kin. The Walkers either say nothing or warn of what would happen to anyone caught messing with their Kin, but none have actually denied the raids happened.
What does growing up within walls do to a lupus? For most, their senses and reflexes are dulled by inactivity, although some Walkers and Gnawers develop "training regimes" involving obstacle courses and games to "enhance development-"They generally become more attuned to the sights, sounds and smells which drive their wilder kin nuts. Depending on their training, they may already he familiar with many of rules of the city such as when to cross the street, how to avoid dogcatchers and get around barbed wire without a snag (they may even be housebroken!) Some discover a close affinity for the Weaver, and can dance across the pattern webs almost as well as the spiders that weave them. But few city-raised lupus ever feel at home in the wild, where sounds and smells are more muted and subtle. Certainly their foraging skills are little better than homids'. Sadly, a handful of captive-born four-leggers never adjust after the Change; they long for the song of the wind in the pines, the open horizon, the ebb and flow of Gaia. . things they've never felt but instinctively desire. These poor beasts are miserable, antisocial wretches who usually fall into Harano and sometimes end up picking fights with subway trains. City werewolves often ship these maladjusted lupus to septs in the country, but that may not be enough; after a life on concrete, they often find they can't hack it in the place they truly need to be — which is even more terrible than never knowing what they are missing.
