By Diane Keating Sciacca (wolfinblack@pagan.net)
"An' I'll say it agin/ This ain't Supernatural/ This is Super, Natural."
We're also currently working on getting an online version of the Tribebook going and setting up a role-play chatroom.
Enough o' that nonsense! Let the Wyld Rumpus Start!
The Tribe started back in 1992 when a pack of Garou noticed a particularly powerful and ancient avatar of Gaia -- the Silver Flame -- hanging about ADRV performances. They also noticed that the social/cultural phenomenon was spawning scores of new spirits. They decided that this needed protecting and asked their Sept Elders if they could adopt this "new tribe" as their protectorate. At first the Elders agreed but they reneged when the pack took off, following the band on tour. They appeared to get deeper and deeper into ADRV and their ravings that this was the key to saving Gaia were passed off as obsession and fanaticism. They told the pack to break off contact, abandon their wards and come home to protect the caern. The pack refused vigourously, the opposition escalated and the Elders performed the Rite of the Lone Wolf on them. The pack called themselves Team ADRV, adopted the humans that were drawn to the ADRV performances as their Flock, and declared themselves a new Garou Tribe -- the Tribe, Keepers of the Silver Flame.
Team ADRV is still around, and leading the whole Tribe.
Occasionally, when several packs converge at the same event they will gather into what they call a "tribe" (with a small t -- when they refer to the Keepers as a whole, they say the Tribe). And very rarely, some tribes will gather in what is called a "Horde" which often travels across the land together. These are always vast, leaderless, anarchic masses of Changers and Kinfolk.
A few packs, most notably Ephemerocracy, have taken the Tribal directive of "Keep Moving" to heart and their hierarchy is in constant flux: everyone in the pack has an equal chance of becoming an autocratic Alpha who serves as leader for a transitory interval (but never long) and enjoys the total cooperation, support and loyalty of the pack. Surprisingly, this system of ephemerocracy seems to be working out well and keeps ambition and backstabbing to a minimum while satisfying the Garou's natural instincts to dominate.
The Tribe has only two permanent caerns, the Firegrounds in the Red River Valley of Texas, and Fly Geysers on the Hualapai Playa of Nevada. The Keepers raise scores of temporary caerns in their travels every summer, but after a day or so these invariably fall and lie fallow and hidden until the Keepers return and raise it again. Perforce, the Keepers do not have Septs as such; "tribes" and Hordes take the place of Septs in their society.
The Keepers hold their Tribal Concolation every year at the Burning Man Festival, where they initiate new members, conceive cubs and Kinfolk, masquerade as Villages and theme camps, conduct rituals (disguised as performance art, of course), and hold challenges for various Tribal offices (the Prank War to designate the Ragabash Elder is the most famous). Team ADRV's members serve as Tribal Alpha, Asesinos Brujos Camp Elder/Founder, Theurge Elder, and Motivator Camp Elder/Founder; all other auspice, breed, Camp and Villagio Elders and Totem Cult High Priest/ess are up for grabs.
Create Element (Level 1): As the Metis Gift.
Lambent Flame (Level 1): As the Silver Fang Gift. Flames appear as red and silver. This Gift is taught by a Jaggling of Pyru.
Quicksilver (Level 1): As the Silent Strider Gift: Speed of Thought.
Dazzle (Level 2): As the Children of Gaia Gift. Taught by the Wanderwolf and the visions are heavily psychotropic events. The target behaves as an Enraptured Toreador does.
Rhythm of the Spheres (Level Three)
Riot (Level 5): As the Bone Gnawer Gift.
Calm the Flock (Level 5): As the Homid Gift.
Firescape (level 2)
Firedance (level 3)
Bhairava (level 4)
Wyldfire (level 5)
Carnal Bonfire (level 6)
Rite of the Juggled Flame (Level 1 Rite of Accord)
Rite of Spooge (Level 1)
Asesinos Brujos Initiatory Rites (Level 1-3 Rites of Accord)
Ours is the Language of Catastrophe (level 3 Mystic Rite)
Rite of the TAZ (Level 3 Rite of Accord)
Rite of the Flesh (Level 4 Rite of Accord)
Rite of the Silver Flame (Level 4 Mystic Rite)
Avé (Level 2)
Om Namai Rudra (Level 3)
Om Rudra Baru (level 3)
The Motivators have a semi-open membership; they can include Old School members but the division is more or less on practitional standards. They hand-pick their members from the fan force by subjecting them to a quick initiatory Rite: grabbing them and putting them to work doing something for the show.
The Bemen are radicals, the progressive voice of the tribe. They take their name in respect to the Burning Man, the central symbol of the Black Rock Festival. A large number of Bemen have infiltrated the Elder Council of the tribe and set much of tribal policy: they are responsible for the "keep moving" ethic that has become this tribe's motto and introduced the concept of multi-camp "Villagios."
Though it's tough to join the Asesinos Brujos and almost impossible to come in on the Old Schoolers, the Camps and Villages of the Keepers of the Silver Flame are fluid and generally open to its memberships. A Baccha can pick up a torch and become a Salamander for the night, a burnt Salamander might slum with the Tantrika until he heals, and an Old Schooler might jump in and temporarily fill his vacancy, and all Silver Flames, at one time or another, attends the Tribal Concolation at Black Rock or one of the other Temporary Autonomous Zone moots. This is cheerfully accepted and even occasionally counseled in keeping with the tribal ethic of "keep moving."
Description: Simply put, this elite corps of the tribe are the tribal founders. They go 'way back with the bands and the Festivals and can tell you some great stories. There are precious few tribes that give its youngest members the chance to hobknob with their originators in the flesh and we're well aware of that: so are the Old Schoolers. Many of them take promising young Silver Flames on as apprentices and often lead the Festival and roadtrip efforts.
The Founder Discourses: "The first Worships were held on the beach. It was terrific, I tell ya: drums pounding, surf pounding, flesh pounding...at the '95 Lammas night show we got chased off campus and the fucking campus police trailed us all over town until finally, I and Jase and a few others got sick of a pack of rent-a-cops giving us endless grief and turned at bay. The rest of the tribe just took off while we slapped the campus cops around a little. Heh. Little hard to shoot a taser with your arm off..."
Description: These are the movers and shakers of our tribe. Sirens, pranksters and lovers, they constantly forge new paths, shake up spinal columns and generally stir the waters. Implacable foes of Lethargy, the Motivators wage all-out war on antipathy, ennui, moderation and reluctance: they'll resort to all manner of mischief, from physical threats to cunning seduction, to get us involved. The Villagio is split into three Camps: the Bacchae, the Amrita, and the Tantrikari.
The Motivator Rails: "Hey! This ain't a spectator sport! You think you're safe up there in that balcony -- well, ya ain't! I can get a pretty good arc on this old fire extinguisher! Then I'm gonna come up there, grab you by the scruff and drag you right into the middle of this pit!"
Description: High priests and priestesses of Dionysus. The most orgiastically playful of the Motivator sub-camps, the Bacchae are a lower-intensity version of the Black Fury Maenads that joined us. Minus their hatred of males, they became more nurturing. They pride themselves on carrying the winesacks around to everyone at the shows and dispensing the blood of Bacchus, and are often homebrewers and vintners themselves when they aren't touring with the bands. A lot of the time they get mobbed at the shows but they enjoy it anyway. Most of the Camp are Theurges; they often awaken the wine and bless it before distribution. The results are often extraordinary....
The Bacchae also distribute foodstuffs before serving the wine.
The Wine Person Purrs: "Close your eyes -- this does sting! You're not here to rub stinging eyes, you're here for pleasure! There, isn't that better? What? Oh, some few. Things like firelight, mandragora, the amrita and explosiveness . . . good heavens, you really react fast! Come here, honey..."
Description: This "sub-village" is divided into two demi-camps: the Salamanders and the Ondines. The collective is named because of their tendency to play with fire and water, considered by them to be elemental expressions of the male and female forces: the Salamanders are the ones who set fires, spew flames, ignite fireworks, firedance and light things up; the Ondines just squirt everyone with liquid, according to what they loaded the sprayers with. The Fire People literally surround themselves with fire at all times, even if it's just a cigarette or a bunch of candles; the Waterworks guys don't consider the Rite over until they get home and take a good, long shower. I've heard some say that fire is the friendliest, sexiest, funniest and best of the four classical elements. There is never a time during their rites when the Salamanders and the Ondines aren't performing together: no fireball, blown from a mouth, goes unaccompanied by a spray of water arcing over it. A lot of the time, an Ondine will take a winesack from the Bacchae and squirt its contents around in a shower of fermented liquid; the more pranksterish Ondines are not above bait-and-switch games, luring someone with a promise of wine and dousing them with oil, sour milk or cold water when they come and open wide... The founder of the camp was Silenus, a Metis Ragabash who used a firebreathing act to cover up his use of Create Element.
The Salamander Expostulates: "Fire is friendly! Fire is funny! Let's face it, if we didn't harness fire we wouldn't be here. Even electricity is just super-intensified fire in a finite space. Sure, we can do without electricity -- how long would a wiring setup survive under constant vibration and air displacement? -- but can you imagine Crash Worship without a big bonfire in the middle of the floor and torches all over the stage and throughout the crowd? Fire is sexy -- especially when it's spun around a naked body...."
...and the Ondine Purrs: "The reason we spray fluids is because this is an initiation. We are celebrating our own rebirth in the Crash -- the multi-fluidous baptismal spray of the Spooge. The victim of a Gooing gets his pain, poison, hate, rage and despair leached out of him by our awakened Spooge and when he goes home, he showers it off. Our Rite of the Spooge cleanses -- gently, sometimes through trickery, sometimes harshly, but the feeling is inescapable. The supplicant comes in, flesh and clothing clean and insides filthy, and when it's over he leaves with his body filthy and soul as clean as freshly-ground flour."
"Wild eyes and crazy hair. Fire a feu de joie. Dark charm luring. Captivating the phantoms. Explosion."
Description: The Tantrika are the Motivators that cruise the crowd, stimulating them to dance, rub flesh, lull them into a carnal trance and lure them away from their egos. Primarily composed to expatriate Silent Striders and Stargazer specialists, they were first attracted to the events for the shamanistic and active-meditational opportunities the ADRV experience provided. This is the most mystical sect of the Motivator camp and they are typically silent, letting their bodies and mind-touches convey everything that needs be communicated.
Tantrikari needn't conform to the standard Western idea of beauty, but they must carry themselves well and understand their role as sirens and houris in the whole of the tribe.
Often they will lure someone into the embrace of the experience (theirs) and two, three or more of them may converge to pull a crowd of Worshippers into an orgy right there on the floor. Invariably, after seducing a Worshipper, they will walk away and never contact her again.
The Kinfolk Reminisces: "Wolf fur is the silkiest, lushest fur around. And when there's a heartbeat and a deck of warm muscle under it, so much the better.
"I never thought of werewolves as the beautiful creatures they are, probably because I never guessed a wolf could laugh, kiss, drink wine and seek out the tickly, sensitive and tender parts of my body with a tongue longer than my forearm. The night I entered your Tribe was a major life event for me. The road of my existence totally turned around and went off on a tack that I never guessed it would.
"My lover lifted me in arms the girth of which could contain my torso and lowered me gently down into his lap; it didn't hurt...and after we came together, he took off and I never saw him again. Doesn't matter: there were plenty more of the Tribe around ready to show me more and tell me what exactly happened.
"I was at the tail end of my period when it happened so I didn't get pregnant but I have my new friends and family. They took me away with them and that night, we slept under the stars. The crowd of huge, powerful, warm bodies that wrapped me round kept me warm. They promised to protect and love me. Not even the woman who gave birth to me gave me so much...."
"Penchant for Pure Evil Acknowledged. Sworn by the raven for it. Spellbound by the aching for it. Unremitting in and executing no flight from it I tempted. It tortured. I worshipped. It exonerated. I am true in forced isolation from the blessed. Crash. Crash. Crashing."
Description: Assassin Bird used to be a Verbena's familiar but he split from her and joined our Umbrood years ago. He set himself up immediately and gathered together our warriors, teaching them how to strike fast, sharp and unseen and blow out again.
These guys are the exact opposite of the Ixstasians. They're arrogant, honourable and unfailingly civil but you'll never run into a scarier bunch of fleshrippers. It's said that they borrowed a few ideas from the Sabbat and the Tal'mahe'Ra. A lot of them have created klaives and rituals are a major part of their lives. They never discourage anyone from attending their rites but if you're not one of them, you get uncomfortable real fast and split of your own accord. They regularly gather to spar and practice together and whenever they go on the warpath they always hold a big throwdown before and after. In between "hits" and their rites, they play a big ongoing, escalated game of "can you top this" and sometimes the stakes can run pretty high -- for equally desireable rewards.
The Assassin Witch Dares You: "Alright, here's what -- I'll relent and let you take out this Pentex exec if you can do the following: you did alright waxing that Elder that got us in trouble at the Samhain Terror Rite last year and you did it with only one arm. Nail that environazi wench that's talking about sabbing the Burning Man Concolation -- with your eyes sewn shut. You up for that? Hey, hermana, this'll get you up and over into Adren with a headstart on Rank Four! Sweet deal either way and I'll bet Pillar-of-Fire himself'll brand you if you can pull it off!"
Description: This is another Villagio, like the Motivators: there is the main body of the Bemen, and two spinoffs called the Hakimickal Bey and the Prank Warriors. They are the radicals of the Tribe, and at least half of us are members of their coalition. When our Tribe started up we had a lot of Maenads join, and they split in two directions: the gentle, playful Bacchae and the Bemen (rhymes with semen). They're not so much personally violent as their antecedents were, but they're still a capricious, wild and anarchistic bunch. Simply, they want the whole of the planet to be populated with nomadic tribes moving from one Temporary Autonomous Zone -- like Black Rock City -- to another, leaving no trace in their wake; they want see the cities thrown down, borders and governments abolished and countries a thing of the past. Silver Fang protectorates and caerns come under their definition of "Cities;" thus, they totally downplay and disregard the commonly-accepted interpretation of "Respect the Territory of Another." What few erstwhile Red Talons we attract usually join this camp.
They're not anti-Weaver Luddites, though. There's too many old Glass Walker Urban Primitives in their midst to let them go that far. But the future they wish to wright is gonna be hard for a lotta, lotta people to swallow....
The Straw Dog Raves: "The Wyld escapes the stagnation of the Weaver and the corruption of the Wyrm by staying mobile, by taking His show on the road, by hitting and running. We throw up Temporary Caerns: raise the spirit, whip the people into a resounding frenzy of cleansing and deadwood burning, draw all the Banes and BSDs so the local caerns get a quiet night or two to relax and do something constructive instead of staring squint-eyed at every ant that crawls up out of the ground within a twenty-mile radius. What thanks do we get? Their Elders snarling about us breaking the Litany! Do me a favour!
"Permanent caerns get desecrated. Inescapably. It's just a matter of time. Meanwhile they suck the life out of every cub who toddles in with 'the Apocalypse is here! Betray us and we'll skin you alive!' That's not what life is about. We say to them, 'Come, dance, be joyous, let Assassin Bird cut through your illusions, let Pyru burn your scars away and let Ixstasia whip you into a Tarantella so you can sweat out your poisons!' and is it any wonder the cubs come with us? Caerns are supposed to recharge, renew. Gaia is meant to be celebrated. I don't see any celebration or renewal here! I see only permanent paranoia and open-ended spiritual probation!
"The bloody establishment is trying to shut our Temporary Autonomous Zones down because they know how right we got it! Even the Sierra People -- the hikers, the tree-huggers, the enviros -- are trying to undercut us because we're actually gaining ground on them and showing them to be the weak-kneed poseurs they are. Go picket and monkeywrench San Francisco and leave us alone, why don'tcha?! Purge the Cities! The Wyrm and the Weaver can't get you if you aren't there for longer than a few days! Leave No Trace!"
Description: This Camp in the Bemen Villagio used to be two rival packs but owing to the popularity and escalated complexity of the Prank War is rapidly swelling into an autonomous Camp of its own. Handfuls of Rascals, Firedancers, Firekeepers and Firebringers have jumped into the fray and involved themselves in what has become a Tribal contest for the position of Ragabash Elder.
This Camp goes to Burning Man and rarely anything else: most of their time is spent planning Prank War sorties and maneuvers, setting up stunts and executing them at the annual Black Rock Arts Festival (aka "Burning Man"). They have necessarily broken with the Bemen ethic of razing the scabs, mainly because most of them have jobs and houses in cities and maintain warehouses for the production of camp and village accoutrements throughout the year.
The Desert Rat Smirks: "Hey, listen, the Stargazers have their Glass Bead Game, we got the Prank War! This is just as legit a pastime as anything else the Garou do as a diversion, if not more so. Beats the pants off the War of Rage!
"Sure, you can join if you can hack it -- not everybody can. Tell you what, I'm going to put you on woodworking detail. They're scribing together a catapault right now . . . here's the location . . . ."
Description: These guys have read "Temporary Autonomous Zones," the book by the philosopher Hakim Bey. Most of the Stargazers we attract go here. They put into practice what Bey suggested: Poetic Terrorism. They believe that this is the only way to liberate Gaia, is to gently, amiably break through the Weaver's webs and playfully upend the establishment.
They're a serious threat to the Veil but I'm not sure whether or not this is intentional on their part. It's just their behaviour. They make little fetishes and talens and just leave them for whoever to find. They kidnap normals, Kinfolk 'em, Awaken them or just take them for the ride of their lives. Kinda like Brazil? Straight-laced, powerful establishment jerk gets siren-songed by a benevolent sociopath and comes out with his whole perceptions and paradigm turned 180 degrees: the Beyists love doing shit like that.
Our Tribe's hierarchy understands where they're coming from and it's as legitimate, invasive and disruptive a form of terrorism as a pound of C4 plastered around the doors of a Pentex office tower, but they're the main reason we're not really well-liked by the urban Septs of the Nationals. The Beyists blow into town, do their shit and blow out again, and invariably whatever repercussions arise gets pinned on the townies.
The Beyist Terrorizes: "Oh, come on, admit it - this is the most fun you've had in your entire life! Look at all the great things I've shown you -- I'll bet you've forgotten the last time you ate a smoked venison loin with chanterelles on the side and washed down with cabernet, and better yet it all came at the price of a little sweat.
"Alright, fine. I'll take you home, if you want. You'll probably forget the colour of my eyes by this time tomorrow...."
"There is much to say for their passion and they clearly serve the Wyld, but they're just setting themselves up to get burned by the very fires they dance with."
Bone Gnawers: They ought to come to one of the shows. The Ondines will cut loose with the fire extinguishers and they'll get a bath better than they've had in years.
"Man, those guys sure look scary. I remember when they were just this motley gang of Urban Primitives crashing junkyards and warehouses. I don't know where they get the bucks for it but they sure as spit lay a good spread, though...."
Children of Gaia: The (so-called) Children of Gaia could have made it but they're going about unifying the tribes of the Garou Nation the wrong way. They're ramming it down peoples' throats instead of just letting the spirit speak for itself and leading by example. If a spirit is strong enough, that's all you need. They're busting their humps to move a mountain.
"The Tribe of the Crash Worship, sadly, betray their true nature in their own name. The band they follow is composed of mortal humans -- fallible, manipulative by definition, and incredibly violent with a hairtrigger. Someday they will come to grief and the honeymoon will be over. Until that day comes, we will watch and wait and be there to heal their wounds."
Fianna: Have you ever heard those guys get going with their drums and bagpipes? Who says they ain't primal?! Man, when we scope one of them in the crowd we kill the fatted calf and they can hardly breathe for all the hugs they get from us!
"Who says these guys don't have their priorities straight?! A bunch of 'em showed up at Eisteddfodd and blew everyone away with their drumming -- we're the National Talesingers but I'll go on record right here and now as sayin' any Keeper of the Silver Flame can trip into my lodgehouse and she's can have me best bodhran!"
Get of Fenris: We've had a few come around. They hear about the firedances and heavy drums and they've of course heard how well we kick ass. The ones who take it all less seriously invariably laugh and jump in; the skinhead ones invariably get their asses handed to them on a silver platter; and the scar-stitched old warlords wind up snorting down their noses at us and call us children at play. Heh. Funny bunch.
"This rootless pack of cublings should decide what they're going to do! How can they hope to save Gaia when they're drunk, strung out and breaking the first precept of the Litany shamelessly? Admittedly their fighters are worthy of their fiery totem and every bit as destructive, but Loki is a dangerous god!"
Glass Walkers: We came as much from this tribe as we did the Black Furies, the Striders and the Stargazers. Computers are good for spreading the word and keeping in touch with each other, and if we didn't have the Weaver we wouldn't have drums and wine. But except for a couple camps in the tribe, they're completely out of touch with the Wyld. Haven't they figured out that their own brains and bodies can do the work of a thousand thousand computers?
"I'd almost jump ship. Really I would. Maybe someday I will -- I'm pretty sure they'd welcome me. Evolution is about continuing on, keep ahead of the rest: the Glass Walkers can't see the forest for the trees, they hoard traceable credit cards, take over banks and clubs from the vamps and tell themselves how clever they are but all it takes is a ghoul to replace the water with silver nitrite in the sprinkler system and it's Goodnight Gracie. These guys move too fast and hide too well for the Leeches to get a handle on them."
Red Talons: I . . . don't know about them. You'd think they'd love us, as much as we get into the Wyld and what with the Bemen going around, talking about razing the Cities. But the fires scare them, the drums and fireworks piss them off; Wanderwolf gets their hackles up for some reason. We go out into the wilderness to hold our Worships but they don't take long to bust us up, even if we do give the Howl of Introduction. We love wolves, we really do, but the Fianna aren't the Irish Cops of the Garou -- these guys are.
"Hmph. Fire is the plaything of the monkeys, drums loud, wine tastes good but I always feel bad when I wake up. These cubs pretending to be wolves know the Wyld but they are unwise to play with fire..."
Shadow Lords: We don't even deal with them. We don't play in the same courts and their little plots and plans don't come close to touching us. Ignore 'em, just ignore 'em and they go away soon enough.
"Lotus-eating charachs and cubs! We'd be more concerned with their pathetic existence but they seem to be hypnotized by their own so-called 'Ixstasia.' Soon enough, they will realize that the world cannot be saved by dancing around a fire and howling to a chorus of drums."
Silent Striders: Poor guys. They run and run and run and there's so much they miss out on. Hey, man, stop for a night and dance with us. We got a big fire and lots of wine and fruit and chocolate here, let your hair down.... Hey, I knew you were right for our group! Yeah, we're actually headed that way, let's travel together....
"At last, a group of runners who've found something to run for instead of away from. The Worshippers of Violent Spinning move too much for the Wyrm to catch and they know their place in the universe. It's a rare creature that is born knowing its purpose. Forget the Dispossessed, forget the Seekers, I found what I was looking for...."
Silver Fangs: Silver. I like anything silver. Call it a fatal attraction. We've seen a couple come round to investigate and we love having them but they're doing their own trip. But maybe we can learn from each other....
"The Tribe of the Silver Flame are young but they already show great spirit. We've always been wary of lending much credence to the many 'new' tribes that spring up from malcontents but there's not an impure heart among them. Overly-focused -- certainly. Cultures change. But it will be interesting to see what they become..."
Stargazers: Would you believe one of our founders was a Stargazer? His motivation schtick involved performing Shiva Dances right in the middle of the fires! Everyone thought he was too crazy and over-the-edge but there was a method to his madness. What was even funnier was when his mentor -- a werepanther! -- came and danced with us, too....
"The zealousy of youth must not be bound. Fire burns but it also sheds light: their stars are here on Gaia. They needn't look to the heavens for their bliss."
Uktena: They keep trying to wheedle, cajole and pry our rites and totems out of us but they just don't get it. Sure, we showed 'em Pyru and the Wanderwolf but they really should share the wealth. We asked for a cut of the talens and fetishes they made from the Gafflings and Jagglings but they snubbed us. Heard Pyru took a couple chunks outta them when they tried to fetish him. That's okay, we learned enough about making the goodies from them when the honeymoon was still on....
"New spirits? New Rites? We must learn more of these younglings. They obviously have a different angle on the spirit world if they cause spirit-births without number just by their existence...."
Wendigo: While there's life, there's hope. The last buffalo hasn't fallen, they're alive, their Kinfolk are alive, and don't gimme no bullshit about 'drunken Injuns' neither! A couple came round with the Uktena and they got their noses all outta joint when we offered them a wineskin. Shit, people, it's called 'the shared meal' and it's the oldest ritual on the face of Gaia . . . ain't nobody got anything but happily buzzed when they shared a sack of Franzia with about twenty-five or thirty friends and chased it with a bushel of oranges, pineapples, pomegranates, grapes, bread, roasted game hens. Thought Thanksgiving was your idea....
"The Silver Fire Dancers are the second generation of Wyrmcomers but the Wyrm doesn't come from them. They seem to have thrown off the corruption that plagues the white-eyed Garou and in that there is hope. But they are young yet. We will watch..."
Bastet: The Khan used to come to the Crash Worships -- one of our packs, Rag Taggle, have a white tiger changer called Vajrasambhava in as their big kick-ass fighter; the Pumonca have turned up at Burning Man, and the Shaivites have of course worked with the Bagheera through their totem, but that's pretty much the extent of it. Essentially what it's boiled down to is mutual respect and benign neutrality with those three and general avoidance with everyone else.
"The Silver Flame tribe of the Garou walk their paths alone. It's good that the Lone Wolves have found a focal point and a society, but they are still Wolves, and just as easy to fall as the Nation they've split off from. We will watch...."
Nuwisha: You know, when we were in the Nation, these guys snuck into our packs and pulled tricks on us. They often met with very poor humour, but out here in the world you learn to get a sense of humour fast and more often than not when they come around and do something they'll get a regular chorus of laughter and not a few of us taking notes.
"I don't even have to pull any tricks on these guys to get them to laugh, dance, love, whoop it up and celebrate being alive -- they do it quite handily on their own! But, they're still Big Cousin Wolf and the trick isn't so much in getting them to see the good things in life as it is in getting them to watch where they're going."
Mokole: Hey -- no problem! I ain't fighting with fucking Godzilla and truth be known, I'd rather have them on my side later on down the line. There's been a few that came to the Crash and as far as I'm concerned, all are equal and welcome there.
"H'm. They're just more Garou. But -- a short time ago, I saw one in the depths of Mnesis and she was seeing and experiencing things that I would love to check out but I can't seem to get the trick of it. Could it be that these wolf-changers have found the key to Remembering?"
Corax: Did I mention Rag Taggle has one of these, too? She came in with her cousin, an ex-Strider, and it's always fun to watch 'em do the back-and-forth, chasing each other and figuring out who's in charge....
"Hey, this is a prime opportunity to check out an all-new Garou Tribe and I've gotten a boatload o' Renown reporting what they're up to and where they're going to the rest of the gang! Lotsa new spirits, powers, rites, a culture in its infancy and a brand new hierarchical system! My God, this is a veritable FEAST!"
Mages: ADRV attracts all kinds of Supernaturals and a lot of the time that means Dreamspeakers, Cult of Ecstasy and sometimes Verbena. They're full of arrogance and hubris but we get on with the Dreamspeakers famously. One of Megalyura's Kinfolk is a Dreamspeaker. A lot of the time, the Worships Awaken Sleeping Sheep and they gotta go somewhere if we're not to their taste. So we have this sort of symbiotic relationship going on with them: the Dreamspeakers, CofE and Verbena are thankful to us and we send 'em Orphans and newly-Awakened. The Asesinos Brujos have made some tentative approaches to the Euthanatos but so far they're each operating in their own ends of the field. As far as the rest, we don't know 'em and we prefer to keep it that way because, invariably, in any dealing with the Willworkers they'll wind up as the ones who run the show and walk all over us.
"Simply put, if it weren't for the Silver Flame Garou I wouldn't be where I am today. It just floors me that a werewolf could be as cool as they are and they're at least a cut above the other so-called 'tribes,' in my opinion. I've run into a lot of other Dreamspeakers and as a general rule, we get along well with the Bete and the Garou, but the Keepers are the only ones I've met that were worthy of our respect. Just -- hey! How can you argue with a big, beautiful Garou that can walk through fire unscathed!?"
Vampires: Ahem...yeah, we're supposed to be mortal enemies and all, but like I said, the Worships have been declared neutral ground. And heck, if it comes to that we're rubbing elbows with Mages and Mokole there, and they could so easily romp all over us. We're not fight-specialists and even the Get and the Red Talons -- who are! -- don't always come back from sorties against those guys. So it's just easier to say, 'Alright, fine, let's all just check our guns at the door because we didn't come here to fight' and go dance, writhe, catch the Ixstasis, drink, laugh, play and get cleaned out for a few hours.
And the Crash affects the cadavers too, in much the same way it hits us. The Silver Flame touches them and turns their head around and they just want to escape from their own inside bullshit, the extent of which I don't even want to guess at. Not that I entirely blame them; in fact, it's pretty laudable that they want to follow the Silver Flame and create a better world for themselves.
The problems arise when their sires and elders and such come looking for them. A couple have gotten smart and either saw things our way or decided we weren't something to be messed with and left us alone but whenever we see a kid with sharp teeth and unnaturally glowing eyes in the crowd we get on our guard -- not because of him but because of his big brother.
Not to mention how hard it is to transport something human-sized in the back of a car. They always squeak and squirm too much when you take the trouble to clear out a trunk or a duffel bag and tell them to get in....
"The Keepers are just another Lupine tribe, with all the attendant accoutrements - except one. They're only defending their flocks, which they cannot be blamed for. Nonetheless, I didn't miss the fact that some of them seem to have some sort of power over fire. That knowledge was the key to my continued existence when a Tremere Enforcer, using Path of Fire, showed up one night..."