The Garou culled humanity long ago, because they recognized the dangerous tendency of humans to spread across wide territories if not checked. The tribes eventually knew pity and ended the IMpergium; now the cancer-like spread of humanity is beyond anything those elders could have possibly imagined. Yet one tribe still advocates a return to the old ways -- the tribe called the Red Talons. Lupus to the last member, they claim proudly that no human has ever tainted their tribe. Other tribes point to the Talons as a warning of what happens when Garou forsake one side of their being, for without humans in their bloodline they have become more bestial than the wolves themselves. Their savage howls make even homid Garou uneasy.
The Talons follow traditions closely -- not the tradition of Silver Fangs, but that of their wolf brethren. More than any other tribe, the Red Talons decide their hierarchy by strength, cunning and endurance. Pack members test each other at a sign of weakness, and the one most fit for leadership assumes the role of alpha. The alpha demands unquestioned loyalty from the pack, and he gets it. Eats first of the best portions of the kill, followed by the rest of the pack in descending order of status, yet no member of the pack goes hungry. Tribal law is clear-cut. If a crime has been committed against the Garou, the pack doesn't indulge in haggling or soul-searching -- it delivers justice swiftly and moves on.
Red Talons dwell in wilderness, away from the noise and stench of human settlements. Their territory is often "posted" with the skulls of trespassers. More than any other werewolves, Talons are at home in the wilderness, following paths others fear to tread. Even their detractors among the other tribes must admit that the Red Talons have long memories, and that they probably practice rites and keep secrets long forgoten by the rest of the Garou.
Now, as forests are logged and caerns bulldozed, as their hunting grounds are subdivided and their Kin are poisoned and shot, the outrage of Griffin's tribe is beyond measure. The Talons' hatred of humanity is legendary; to the Garou nation, they are living reminders of the Impergium and a constant to the species' existence. Most believe that returning to a policy of culling would be sufficient. In fact, some humans actually live peacefully near Talon territories, if those humans are few and show the land proper respect. It is more common for a pack to make examples of any who wander too near, trusting that fear will keep the apes in the safety of their scablike cities.
Many wonder if the Talons have been corrupted by the Wyrm, for rumors of their cruelty to humans rival tales of the evil rites of the Black Spiral Dancers. For the most part, Talons slay man, woman and child wholeheartedly, but they do so quickly. Some enjoy it, others take to the task as a duty, but wounding so the prey will suffer for hours or days isn't natural (although it may be just). However, the younger Talons have begun making elaborate rituals of their mini-Impergium in recent years, and it worries the elders. To savor the fear of the prey is one thing, but to draw the agony out over days ... that is something the apes do. A dark secret of the Talons is that more than a few consume the flesh of their victims regularly, disregarding one of the Litany's tenets. These rogues insist that the Stargazers included that provision in the Litany, and since they're gone, it doesn't matter anymore.
Appearance
In wolf form, Talons are generally large-framed, with noticably oversized jaws and paws. Even in Lupus, their claws are almost catlike in sharpness. Their fur tends toward ruddy brown. Perhaps the most unusual feature of the tribe is the shock of blood- or flame-red fur always present somewhere on their bodies. Talons boast that it is a badge of honor from Gaia, showing her approval for the only tribe willing to advocate putting humans back in their place. Less extreme tribes contend (quietly) that it is Gaia's mark of shame to the last adherents of the Impergium.
In Homid form (which they rarely ever assume), Talons are crude, hairy, slouching and unkempt; they never look when they can glare. They shamble, unused to walking on two legs, and find the human's mild sensory depravation unnerving.
Kinfolk:
Red Talons guard the dwindling wolf packs across the world. Many won't even acknowledge human Kinfolk, sparking many bloody conflicts with other tribes. All wolves, Kinfolk or not, are precious to the tribe, and even a pup is worth a few human lives. To lose a wolf to starvation or disease is a reason to mourn; to lose one to hunters is an excuse for revenge.
Territory
Red Talons dwell in the deepest wilderness, away from the taint that humans bring. Occasionally, a pack will set up its territory near civilization, but only to conduct raids against their enemies.
Tribal Totem: Griffin
Initial Willpower: 3
Background Restrictions: Red Talons may not buy Allies, Contacts or Resources. Their only Kinfolk are wolves.
Beginning Gifts: Beast Speech, Scent of Running Water, Wolf at the Door
Quote: Why should we submit to the new Impergium where humans cull wolves?
Stereotypes
Black Furies: It is not right to deny your father and love only yours mother. Both are needed. Bone Gnawers: There will always be a lowest-ranked wolf in every pack. In the Garou Nation, it is the Bone Gnawers. Children of Gaia: Harmony is good. Harmony with your enemies is not. Humans are our enemies. Fianna: When howling, their voices are beautiful; otherwise, they babble and brawl. Get of Fenris: They fight like the wolverine, and they eat like wolverines too. Glass Walkers: They are abominations. In fighting the Wyrm, they have allowed the Weaver to take over their souls. Shadow Lords: It is right they test the Silver Fangs, but the Shadow Lords are not fit to lead. They must use deception to cover their weakness. Silent Striders: There is something wrong with them. Wolves are never lone by choice. Silver Fangs: A pack leader must lead. They have grown fat and sluggish and mad. Uktena: They keep many secrets, which is not that different from lying. They dabble with the Wyrm too much. Wendigo: A proud tribe, more honest than most. Stargazers: It is well that they leave. There is nothing left of instinct in them, only thinking, thinking, thinking!
Red Talons
