You are the last hope of a dying race…

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The Garou Nation has predicted the coming of the apocalypse for millenia and they have fought to prevent it. That battle was lost. The apocalypse came. The seas rose up, fire rained from the skies, cities fell, and the forests rose anew. Much of humankind fled the destruction by escaping underground. Many died, subway tunnels flooded or collapsed, food was scarce… but humans are nothing if not adaptable. Bomb shelters, basements, slowly these structures have run deeper and deeper beneath the earth’s surface until there are cities riddling Gaia’s crust. Elecricity is almost unheard of, there is little of the old world left. Life as we know it…. is over.

As hard as life below the surface is, those that survived above ground have it even worse. The Wyld was damaged and abused for too long, restrained and confined. Now, as the Weaver and the Wyrm remember their roles and the balance they were meant to maintain the Wyld rushes out of control. There are millenia of extinctions and destruction to make up for and the Wyld means to do it. Now.

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Amid all this chaos, evolution running at speeds that no ecosystem could maintain, humanity morphing into something unrecognizable in the depths of the earth, the Garou and Fera hunt endlessly for Phoenix. Nothing more than faith spurring them to track down their enduring symbol of hope, certain that the great firebird will be reborn after the destruction.

Surely Phoenix will be able give the Garou guidance once more, as it did in the past. Surely there is some way to reign in the Wyld’s chaotic forward momentum before the world’s resources are expended and all fall into dust. Surely the Wyld is not the enemy of both Garou and Fera.

Right?

Hope of the Wayfarer

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