Bone Gnawers:

​

Bone Gnawers make up the dregs of the Garou Nation. Most other tribes regard them as little more than pathetic scavengers hiding in the cities of men. Rivals insist that they're dog-paddling in the shallow end of the gene pool; after all, if their cubs were capable of joining other tribes, they would have done so by now. Many werewolves treat the tribe with contempt — or at least regard the Gnawers as a pack of comic fools — yet the tribe is also the populous one in the world. In a realm where other tribes have failed— hidden within the heart of humanity — the Bone Gnawers have prospered. Their patchwork pedigrees can be traced back to India and Northern Africa, but the tribe's pups can be found anywhere poverty is present. 

​

Throughout human history, they've lived on the fringes of human society, whether as peasants, serfs or commoners. Always the underdogs, their history is filled with stories of helping the "common man" triumph despite impossible odds. Bone Gnawers tell tales of their ancestors aiding Robin Hood, fighting in the American Revolution, rounding up aristocrats during the French Revolution and even supporting the proletariat in the Communist Revolution. Other tribes laugh these stories off, claiming that the tribe drinks too much bad hooch, but cubs and cliath listen attentively, finding the inspiration to keep fighting. While other tribes may threaten and intimidate to gain power among their own kind, septs dominated by Bone Gnawers are usually strongly communal or staunchly democratic. After you fall through the cracks of human society, they reason, everyone you find at the bottom should be considered equal. 

​

Despite this welcoming attitude, the tribe still maintains a few secrets and traditions away from outsiders. Others consider their totems and rituals bizarre, to say the least. Whether they're sacrificing cheap wine to the Great Trash Heap, singing Frank Sinatra songs to summon the New York City Father or leaving peanut butter for Elvis and the American Dream, Bone Gnawers revel in behavior that outsiders would consider just plain nuts. Yet, they insist that what they're doing is sacred. Everyone has a say in a Bone Gnawer sept, but some of their opinions are straight out of the ozone. Dirty and mangy, ill fed on a diet of leftovers and scavenged food, Gnawers are generally cynical and world-weary, but they also cultivate street smarts and a wicked wit. Just as cannily as they scavenge food and tools from dumpsters and refuse, they unearth secrets on the street. Although their appearance may be pitiful, they are as well suited to guerrilla tactics and urban warfare. Like rats, they gather in unexpected and hidden places, attack in numbers, and scurry back to safety. If others consider them madmen and fools, so much the better — surprise attacks are far more effective, anyway. 

​

Lofty Garou ideals have no place within the tribe, for practicality is paramount. They value freedom and hard-core survival above all else. Most have great sympathy for folks on the skids, and they often recruit down-and-out humans (and other desperate supernatural creatures) as allies. Tribal elders, addressed respectfully as "mothers" and "fathers," watch carefully over the extended families that result. Along the way, they develop a fierce hatred for humans who exploit others, whether through greed or callous apathy. Therefore, generosity is an important measure of status within the tribe. While most werewolves tend to think reflexively of the Gnawers as an urban tribe, some of their camps and Kin prefer rural septs. The Hillfolk live very simply in the Appalachians and throughout the rural South, following an old-fashioned way of life as "sons of the soil" (what others would call "hillbillies"). A more infamous camp, the Man- Eaters, keep their affiliations well-hidden, for cannibalism is forbidden by both the Litany and human law. Some hunt in the most decadent and decayed realms of major cities, but most prefer to retreat to the wild, emerging to hunt only when absolutely necessary. 

​

The tribe has a reputation for being very... cosmopolitan... because of its talent for urban survival. Only the Glass Walkers feel as comfortable in cities, and then only because they are able to afford the very best human luxuries. Gnawers are masters of scrounging Stuff, Loot, Junk and many other varieties of trash that others would consider worthless. Many of their rites and Gifts allow them to survive in urban hellholes, even if it's on a diet of cardboard and dry macaroni. They are masters of begging and groveling, both in human and Garou society. Spare change can fund a Bone Gnawer feast, and every dumpster overflows with bounty... as long as you know how to use the trash festering inside it. Long after the other werewolves have been destroyed by the Apocalypse, the Bone Gnawers intend to be the last ones standing.

​

Tribal Totem: Rat

​

Initial Willpower: 4
 
Background Restrictions: Bone Gnawers may not buy Ancestors, Pure Breed or Resources. Such good fortune typically falls to wolves from other tribes.

​

Beginning Gifts: Cooking, Resist Toxin, Tagalong

​

Thoughts on other tribes:

​

Black Furies: What cool chicks! They prove what I've known all along: Girls kick ass! Tell 'em how cool they are. That way, they'll stand in front of you when a fight's about to start.

​

Children of Gaia: Um, yeah, I'm all for peace. Especially if it means that a sept's going to prosper. After all, that means more food for everyone. Then again, the Bone Gnawers are still the last line of defense, so there's no way we could ever become complete pacifists.

​

Fianna: Hey! I'll trade you what's in my bottle for what's in yours!

​

Get of Fenris: See that Get? Man, the guy who stuck the stick so far up his ass must have been some warrior. They're so full of themselves that I'm glad they'll die to protect us. I know that's harsh, but I'm sick of 'em kicking us around. 

​

Glass Walkers: You gotta get one of these guys in your pack. They've got enough cash to pay for everything you need. Ask 'em to pick up the check in restaurants. They love that.

​

Red Talons: I don't know how much I trust them. I mean, without all the people in the world, what would happen to all the cities?

​

Shadow Lords: Ugh. Creep, creep, snoop, snoop. And they still don't pick up the word on the street as well as we do. They'll try to use you for whatever they can get, so make sure you don't sell yourself short.

​

Silent Striders: Striders sometimes help me scrounge up stuff when I'm traveling. Unfortunately, some of them like to "sacrifice" little critters to Owl. If one of them touches my rat friends, I'm gonna hafta kick his ass.

​

Silver Fangs: Oh, yes, sir, Mr. Silver Fang, sir. You go ahead and stand up in front of the whole pack where everyone can see you. You want me to help paint that target on your forehead?

​

Uktena: It's a pity what happened to their kin. It's almost as bad as what happened to ours.

​

Wendigo: Hey! Who turned down the heat again? It's freezing in here!

​

Stargazers: Yeah, yeah. Door, ass, way out, all that.

​