This world is but one of many. I have walked the secret worlds, and soon you will, too. But silence, little one; what I say now is Buree Pa, a great secret, and you must hold it close to your heart if you would survive.
Once, all worlds were one world. The spirits walked the mortal lands and were happy to do so. Then one day, the skies cracked with a sound like thunder. A wall, huge and invisible, fell from the sky and split the lands apart. The spirits were chased from our world, and they wept and grew angry. Their rage made the ground shakes, and many people died. Many animals suffered as well as the jungles grew brown and dry.
Mana Ma Usaga, tenth great-grandson of Damaa our mouther, saw the Unmaker's hand in this. Like all our kind, he spoke the tongue of the Invisible Ones. Readying his walking stick, his hakarr and a pouch of thunder, he ran off to see what was the trouble. Old Bonyscrap sat waiting, still in the physical world, eating the boens of a fallen Chaya. "What has happened?" asked Mana Ma Usago. "Why do the spirits die?"
"Far away, the wolves have gone mad," said the bulture. "I was getting ready to fly to the battlegrounds, where your kin war with theirs. There's much good eating to be had." Like the wind for whish he was named, Mana Ma Usaga followed the Eater of Corpses until he discovered a plain littered with dead and dying warriors. This was the beginning of the War of Rage, and it had caused the wall to fall from the sky. All around, people ran in fear. Their villages burned. The wolves fell about them and ripped them to pieces. Thus was the spirit world set apart.
Some Bastet, leapt to the battle, but were cut down. The lion, the tiger, the leopard: all fell to the claws of the Garou. "What can I do?" thought Mana Ma Usaga. "I am fast, but not as strong as they. If my brothers and sisters perish, what chance do I have?" Our tribe was always wise this way -- we are not built for combat, but for speed. He watched as the ground drank the blood of the cats and the people, and his heart cried for their sacrifice, and for the spirits, also. Bonyscrap cackled as he went among the dead, and he brought many friends with him to share the repast.
"Be still, and do not fight," said a voice from the ground. Mana Ma Usaga looked around, and spotted Mantis watching the battle. "You are too fleet and nervous," said the spirit. "You must learn patience and observation. Look!" As Mana Ma Usaga did so, he spied three Garou staring at a pool of water. Soon, the air began to shimmer and the three wolves vanished. "What they have one, you can do," said Mantis. "The wall is not as solid as you fear."
Staring at the blade of his hakarr, Mana Ma Usaga felt a spark leap in his heart. Soon the colors of the world grew bright and he found himself on the other side of the wall. A mass of wolves were there, and he trembled huntil he remember his pouch of thunder. Drawing open the bag, he unleashed the winds and furies upon the surprised Garou, then raced amongst them with his hakarr, shouting "Ay-hii-yo!! Ay-hii-yo!!" Moving like the wind itself, he cut the wolves to pieces. Then, remembering the trick, he stared into his hakarr blade again and crossed into the darker world. The wolves were surprised by his coming, and he raced through them, cutting them to bits until they fled. Finally, the battle was over. The Garou had been defeated and Mana Ma Usaga had learned a new trick.
Our forefather went to the sides of the lions and tigers who had fallen, and he performed a song for their dead. Suddenly a voice broke the silence: "Traitor!" A dozen lions stood at the edge of the billage, with Bonyscrap among them.
"Look what he has done," said the vulture. "He has sided with the wolves and killed your Kin!"
"Wait!" cried Mana Ma Usaga, but the lions charged. Darting behind a burning hut, he passed beyond the wall again. Strange spirits had gathered now, festing on the rage and blood that had been spilled. Asura. The clearing had grown dark and the plants began to wither. Exhausted and afraid, Mana Ma Usaga crept away from the slaughter and returned to his people. Soon, he perfected the trick of crossing, and he taught it to our kind.
This is a very old story, but time has proved the truth in it. WIth the War of Rage, the Unmaker gained a foothold in our world and his servants helped it grow. The lions do not trust our kind; at night, they whisper that we betray them. It is good to keep to the shadowed places, my daughter, for sometimes the lions come. The lions and the wolves. Fear them, child, and watch behind you. Your speed is the one thing upon which you can depend.
TRIBAL BACKGROUND
It's easy to discount the wiry Swara; they're not especially tough, large, magical or even attractive. They are, however, fast, and amazingly dextrous. More importantly, they possess a tribal secret that puts them on a level few Bastet even understood -- a more spiritual level.
The Swara step sideways, a rare talent among the Bastet. It isn't a Gift they can teach, but a natural ability they can learn as they mature. This affinity for the spirit world (a secret they guard from other werecats, who would be murderously jealous) has created a spiritual yet isolated culture. While other werecats concentrate on earthly enigmas, the Swara concentrate on the worlds beyond. Thus, they often grasp signs and subtleties other werecats miss.
Of all the Bastet, the Swara understand how vital the war against the Unmaker has become. They understand Gaia's sickness, and most go out of their way to defend Her. They're also extremely paranoid. Their tales are full of betrayals, reverses of fortune and massacres. To them, everyone in the world is corrupt or getting that way; in the World of Darkness, who can blame them? They may, in fact, be right.
Like the Pumonca; Swara are loners and wanderers; their territory, however, extends across the whole world -- and beyond. This well-traveled outlook tends to feed their cultured paranoia rather than dispel it, and they make only superficial ties outside their tribe. Only animals and spirits are worthy companions for a cheetah; Bastet, Killi and human beings wear too many masks to be trusted. The lesson, driven home by a year of dark tales and a lifetime alone, is that the world is going to hell, and that it has been for some time. The Swara aren't gloomy Folk -- they're just resigned. More isolationists than nihilists, they live as best they can.
All Swara revere the Moon. To them, Seline is the savior, and her handmaidens the Lunes are trusted friends. Swara call themselves "the Silver Folk" in her honor. Cheetah lore recounts what may be the first journey to the Moon, a trip made by Ayio Bon Parr in the days of the Impergium. According to them, Seline herself called for the end to both the War of Rage and the culling of the human flock, and chose to send this plea Ayio. This did not make the Swara heroine welcome in the Simbas' dens, but they listened well enough when Ayio brought them to the Moon's Court herself. To this day, the cheetahs teach their kits to sleep outside when the moon is full and to give thanks to her each night.
In the name of the Moon Mother, the cheetahs try to keep the sacred places clean. Many caerns and glens throughout Africa have a Swara guardian or two. It's a thankless job, but one the Silver Folk handle with grace -- and even humor, if that can be believed. The Silver Folk caliah prophesies that Seline will call Her most devoted followers home as the Apocolaypse begins. From there, they'll watch the death of the corrupt worlds and the rebirth of the next.
Although they still call the Triat and other spirits by Bastet names, the Silver Folk know almost as much spirit lore as the Garou themselves. Even so, they loathe the wolves with a passion that boarders on frenzy. Few Swara will even speak with civility to a werewolf, let alone walk beside him. There are exceptions of course, but in general, the cheetahs watch the dogs from a distance and learn all they can. Widsom is not poisoned by the eyes or ears, but by the heart.
TRIBAL HOME
Although they range across the world and journey into the Umbra, most Swara begin and end their lives in the grasslands of Africa. Their extreme xenophobia makes settling anywhere difficult. Some few cheetahs overcome their upbringing and set down roots, but their innate nervousness makes them odd company. If and when things fall apart, a Swara often takes this as a confirmation that no one can be trusted and moves on again.
CULTURE AND KINFOLK
From her fostering onward, a Swara learns distrust. To avoid betrayal, most Silver Folk keep their distance from outsiders. Most of the tribe favors its feline ancestry; many are more willing to mate with a cat than with a person.
The huma n side of the family favors the bushmen and herders of central and southern Africa. Early on, the cheetah-children are set apart from their more outgoing peers by their timid, nervous ways, and they often end up ostracized long before their First Change. Among the bushmen and Bantu, community is vitally important; Swara avoid community, and are considered odd from childhood. The kuasha's lesson merely reinforce what the cheetah already suspects: The world is hostile, so avoid it when you can.
ORGANIZATION
A werecheetah keeps to herself after her fostering until she finds a mate. The two bond cautiously, then separate as soon as possible. A mother raises her children just long enough to ensure their subibal, then leaves them at the home of some trusted Kinfolk. For a year or so, she watches the family until she's convinced they won't harm her children, then fades off into the woods or grasslands.
SECRETS SOUGHT
As custodians of the earth and destroyers of corruption, most Swara perfer to learn about threats to the existing order. Naturally, the things they learn reinforce their paranoia, but they help the Silver Folk do the job that Seline has decreed for them.
YAVA
The Swara are very protective of their mother's good name. By telling tales of Damaa's cowardice, you can reduce a cheetah to madness.
The soil of the moon intxociates the Swara. Mix it into his drink, and he will dance and laugh for days.
The Unmaker has his hand deep in all Bastets' souls. A frenzy will herald his approach. A Swara fears such frenzy, and must avoid its taint at all costs.
APPEARANCE
Whatever its form or breed, a Swara is lean, slender and wiry. The majority of the tribe descends from black Africans, though a few odd European Swara exist. The latter usually have lighter coats than their relatives do. They dress for speed and comfort, not style, and tend to take daredevil chances for kicks. Each Swara receives a tribal tattoo from his mentor just before he "graduates" into the loner's world. These tattoos often appear in a fairly obvious place -- on a bicep, a shoulderblade or the face, depending on the person's human culture. African or feline Swara often decorate the faces of their kits, while human European Swara prefer to make a youngester on his arm or back rather than across his face. They sport very little jewelry -- it gets in the way -- but any adornment a Swara wears has some spiritual significance.
QUOTE:
Are you blind? How can you see the world around you and not insist that we're living in the final days.
STEREOTYPES
Bagheera: Their cultured speesh hides keen, conniving minds. I like their words, but do not trust their hearts.
Balam: The Two-Hearts are too bitter to understand the worms in their souls. If they were to look into the smoking mirror they're so proud of, they would cry.
Bubasti: They would lick Cahlash's ass if they thought it would teach them something new.
Ceilican: Dead and gone, like so many of their dreams. Still, they were treacherous Folk while they lived, and the world does not miss them.
Khan: I want to trust them. Really. They would make fine friends, I think. Perhaps I'll speak to one someday.
Pumonca: Who?
Qualmi: Now, there Folk are what we could all be. Brave, fast, clever and wise. Them, I would call friend. Too bad they are so scarce.
Simba: No better than the wolves. They butcher our babies and murder our Kin. The Unmaker is their truest patron, and he blesses them with godless strength. Someday we must fight them. I do not look forward to that day.
