Thousands of years ago, before humans used language to describe the events of the past, the Earth Mother created three supernatural forces - the Weaver, the Wyrm and the Wyld - to maintain the universe. She guided all nature's creatures with a feral claw.

It was the Earth Mother, they say, who first taught us to change our shape. And it was at Her command that we fostered the fledgling human race. Many were the shapeshifting kinds, but we were the most powerful, the most feared - the Garou, the werewolves. Together, we kept the human herds in check. A conclave of our tribes ruled our kind, and we were the Earth's dominant species.

We reveled in our dominance, and we sought to command all shapeshifters. When not all would bow to our might, we claimed our kin to be a threat to Gaia's human children. In retaliation for their defiance, we waged a savage battle against our changing kind. We never expected that those we sought to protect would be the next to dissent.

The violence was so terrible that humankind turned its back on us all. While we carved out a path in blood, humans relegated us to myth and legend and began their own story. So much did humankind deny our existence that, to this day, humans who see a Garou retreat in madness and forget what they have seen.

Today, we Garou live under the Veil, concealing ourselves from the humans who are now dominant among Gaia's offspring. But still, be it in the world of flesh or spirit, we fight to prevent the Apocalypse. As humans pollute the world and cities grow, strangling the wild places, so too do the Wyrm and the Weaver fight each other in a conflict that can only destroy the world.

We Garou stand in their way. Our struggle today is more dire than ever, for indeed, we are the last generation of warriors.