History is Written by the Living
A timeline of the Fera as presented by
Thicc Laurna Freeman & Long Caw Corduroy
When looking at the history of the changing breeds In the Bloodied Ground, one must remember the words of Buckmenster Fuller...
"Even 2 + 2 relies on my knowing what number you are speaking of, and you to know the number of which I answer.".
Icebergs are a better analogy. There are the parts that jut up from the water, however what lies under the surface is anyone's guess.
Yeah, let us go with that. The Fera of Kentucky have not, by any stretch, had it easy in the millennia they lived on The Bloodied Ground.
It is expected that there would be things in their own history they would be shy about sharing.
Conversly, there is something to gain from being the cunning victim. Or at least that is the lesson many of them have learned, even if it was not the lesson being taught.
Further, anyone speaking to the Fera, whom has also had academic training, will notice that they tend to answer questions about their history as a reflection of the history of the Garou.
Of course this leads one to recognize that they each know more about Garou History than they pretend. In fact, one can ascertain, since no culture or society lives in complete relation to a greater society without being subsumed or remaining independent of said greater society and surviving beyond them as more than story;
coupled with the knowledge that these breeds do still exist, and do still exhibit independent culture,
that they are all inveterate liars.
Know that when we refer to not one, but numerous cultures as all being unreliable, we do not do that lightly. I do recognize the likelyhood that this is an adaptation trait.
A trait that once taken in context of their shared history as submissive sub cultures to the more dominate Garou Mega-Culture, has served them well.
Maybe it's a shared expression of generational and cultural trauma. In any case, these lying bastards will only share their history in context to that of the Garou,
a species that will, at the very least, levy the courtesy of arrogantly extolling numerous tales about themselves.
The Pure Ones and The Bloodied Ground
The Myth most young Fera are taught goes something like, "The Pure Tribes were spiritually enlightened Uber Garou.". To pretend there were no territorial disputes with the Garou prior to the Europeans would be a complete lie. Further, to pretend that the Wyrm and its minions only arrived on Plymouth Rock, would similarly be bullshit. In the scope of this history, please keep in mind the role of dominate culture bias as well as the possibility perhaps, that the subjects were not willing to be terribly forth coming.
Life among the Pure Tribes was far more tolerable than that among the Europeans. This opinion is widely shared by most Fera. I share it, however so I may clarify it for you. It was not at all, that the Garou of those times were more sharing, nor less temperamental. Quite the opposite. The Pure Tribes openly warred with one another, over territory, over mates, over fetishes, and over spirits. You name it, there was some conflict for it. It is said they never warred as savagely or desperately as the Europeans. It was known among the Fera, even then, that to cross a wolf was to tempt ones fate. Alliances WERE made between the Garou and the Fera in those days, however these alliances very often came at the end of claws, or under the threat of fang.
In the expanses of the Old New World, as it was, it was less likely to cross paths with Garou. Prior to the Europeans, territory was bountiful. This allowed, almost necessitated, that the Garou accept that some territory was simply not theirs. If they even attempted to claim it, they would never be able to hold it. They were less pragmatic about their kin, often curtailing them into human tribes of one name or another, and forbidding them to go here and there.
The best evidence of this arrangement occurs in the earliest verifiable Bastet songs, found along the Smokey Mountains. These songs indicate that a feudal arrangement was made much like lords under kings. The Children of Puma would build elaborate territories in which they were the sole 'changer' of note, however they would monitor and control the territory under obligations set by the Garou whom hunted near the area. Similarly, the Ratkin of Ohio claim they possessed autonomy during those days, given they abide by the restrictions of the Garou to avoid the human tribes selected for breeding. And so it was that Fera lived under a restricted 'peace'. Given the reclusive nature of some Fera, and the Annihilation of others, it becomes difficult to say how each separate breed lived or felt about this Garou rule.
It can be said that we Corax enjoyed, even then, an elevated status in the social circles of the Fera. Of course, even then, we served our brethren as messengers and bares of news. A Gurhal I spoke with once mentioned that the Corax, even in those days, never exhibited the annoying trait of pride which allowed them to sidestep a good many of conflicts with the Garou. That poor Gurhal is no longer with us, and from our conversations, I would guess she was unable to see the irony in her jab and her fate. In summary, The Garou of the region were known for tight control of others territories, and they were known for claiming large tracts of Gaia for themselves.
It was only a small surprise to many of the Fera vassals when the wolves came begging for conscripts, fetishes, and spirits to assist in a great war they claimed to be engaged in. As you may have guessed, there was far less support offered than the wolves expected. Living under the control of a stringent king, often encourages one to hide their wealth and under report their harvest, and so it was when the Garou came a'calling. Certainly excuses were offered about protecting their lands, battling the wyrm, etc. And so it was that the Garou of the Plains and Streams marched to war. A war they lost savagely.
From every story I can find, or that has been shared, the Fera celebrated to the last at the Garou defeat. If not openly, then quietly in their dens, nests and warrens. The idea that the proud wolves could be knocked off their collective 'High Horses' was infinitely funny and welcome. Do not punk yourself. This tickled every fancy, from Bear to Cat, from Bird to Rat, and everything in between. Or it was at first anyways. What was initially thought to be a great battle, one that was felt by the wise women and cunning men of every bred, was not understood in scope. In the season to come, spirits and more began to surface which told of not just a war which left the wolves licking their wounds, but a conflict with the Wyrm itself which killed the population of the local Garou to the last. Spirits were destroyed that would never be reborn, and the Garou Tribe known through the Bloodied Ground and the surrounding territories would never, ever be again.
This, was not a joke, and while some Fera still chuckled a bit, it was more out of shock this time. The Children of Raven, I am proud to say knew what came next, and it was perhaps, just a little our fault that we didn't spend more time warning the others. We saw the Red Talons, then simply called the West Wolves or the Blood Talons, slowly move through the unguarded territory. We knew the Lone Wolves which danced through the Umbra like fish through a current, and we knew they would miss the Garou that called this territory their homes. Further, we knew the white wolves of the north and the shaman wolves from the fire lands to the south. It is impossible they did not feel the passing of their 'brothers' and we knew to expect them... soon.
The other Fera, either driven by concern, or the immediate insanity of perceived freedom, who can say, but the other Fera... well when the other wolves arrived, they were caught with their hands in the cookie jar. Wildcats and Cougar alike had stepped from the mountains to claim kin, fetish and spirits left without masters. Rats played openly amongst the crops and human tribes left unguarded. Even sweet, gentle Bear moved into holy sites of wolf, perhaps to tend them, perhaps to claim them, it is unknown. But when the wolves arrived, what they found were Fera rummaging through the belongings of their dead kin. It did not go well.
The Bloodied Ground and The Wyrmbringers
Perhaps, we should count our blessings that The Bloodied Ground was, even then, thought to be haunted ground. Perhaps it was just the distance one had to travel. Perhaps, we are simply lucky there was no one to open Luna's great roads to the wolves, but in any case it was one of the bloodiest times these territories would ever see, and I am sad to tell you, it absolutely could have been worse. The wolves were limited in number, and that was the only thing that saved any of us. Well that and sister snake. It is not known what agreement was struck, but when the Dancers of the Serpent Queen called on each Fera with the command to stop, it came at the right time for everyone to listen. For our part, the Raven stayed out of it, which sadly, to this day means we were on the Wolves side. I still don't know if I am ashamed of us, or if it was why I am even here today to share the songs.
The Red Talons were the first to arrive. In those days, it wasn't so much a tribe of Garou, as it was a collection of Garou packs which worked in loose cooperation. There are few things on the face of Gaia that operate the same today as they did in the good ol' days, but the Red Talons remain pretty unchanged. Coming in form the western wilderness, they simply swept through, and woe be to anyone that threatened wolf kin or spirit. It was in these days, before the Europeans even arrived that the first of the Red Talons claimed Mammoths Rage, and it was from there that they explored the empty territory of the lost tribe. It is with their arrival that the Ratkin made one of the most deft and terrify political moves I have ever heard about. They joined in with the killing.
The Ratkin, for whatever reason, did not resist the Red Talons at all as they arrived. Instead, they helped devastate crops and water supplies, driving native humans into a state of desperation, and similarly, guiding the Red Talons to the layers of the Mountain Lions and Lynx. If asked, they will lie and they will downplay the entire period, but there is no hiding what came next, and that was open bloodshed. The Talons moved on the local Indian populations and the Bastet. Now, the Bastet had taken it upon themselves to 'protect' many of the local human tribes at the time, but in the face of feral Garou, it only took a few years before they surrendered that claim. The Bastet will tell you it would have been an even match if it were not for the Northern and Southern Wolves joining the fray, but there is absolutely no song nor story that would support that.
The Bears fared worse, I think. The Southern Wolves arrived soon, and their grief over the loss of Garou was second only to their concern for the holy sites and glens left unguarded. And so it was when the mysteries of the dead wolves was uncovered, lone Children of Bear were wondering through the graves of the fallen. It was quick. Mixed with the grief of the Northern White Wolves, Bear had little chance, and it was only by sheer luck that we can find any Gurhal left today. Limping back to their caves, the Gurhal hide to this day, telling tales of their slaughter as warnings to their young.
Finally, it was only now that Coyote thought to speak up, and it was he that pointed to the Raven as silent witnesses. Rat rubbed his paws, Bear licked his wounds, and Cat nursed his pride. Snake struggled to halt the fighting, and Spider laid traps for dangers none of us had time to consider. Coyote pointed to the Children of Raven and laughed out loud. Among all of the Fera, it was we, the Children of Raven that had done nothing, and to Coyote's credit, he was right. The truth hurt, but as always, Coyote teaches with nips and barbs. As we sat ashamed, it was Rat the others turned to, and an entire generation of nests were lost in one summer. When we complained and asked for justice, our cries fell on deaf ears. Even the Silent Scaled Sisters of Serpent did not move to assist us. It was only wolf that heard us, and he had little energy to share as his children went about claiming territory, kin, and spirits. We now knew what the others knew; there would be no justice only blood in this land.
And so it was, for another age before the Europeans came. The Rats sat unpunished for their crimes, allied to savage wolves. The Crow sat in their trees, compassion dying in their breasts. Gurhal hiding deep within Gaia's bosom. Cat retreating deep into the mountains and the thickest of brush, suffering from the wounds to their pride, brought on by their greed. Coyote moved on, his lesson taught, and his lust for anything other than blood taking him far afield. Wolf mourned, and in his grief, he swayed between rebuilding what was lost and breaking it in his rage. The Daughters of Snake were the one saving grace in these days. Serving as messenger, judge, mystic, and diplomat. They were so few, and yet they crawled from their holes to hold this land together.
Then the White Man came.
The Great Trick and Our Very Own Apocalypse
We were shocked. We had no idea. There is just not a good way to say it. We spent a century learning the ways of the wolves from the north and the south. The wyldest of us were learning the ways of the eastern wolves and dared poke our heads into the caves. We mourned and ruminated on our pains and our feuds. Perhaps, maybe, just perhaps we had grown accustomed to things again, and we let the world settle into a hangover. Sounds were dull, light was too bright, I don't know. But what happened was the OTHER wolves showed up. They spoke strangely, they looked around. They already had their minds made up. They told us... all of us that met them, and those that met them told those that didn't. They said, "Things are not right here.". It wasn't a question. It wasn't even an invitation to explain. They said it, then they left. And Gaia damn us, we just said, "who do those assholes think they are?".
Then, just a little bit before the year of their lord 1800, the Wendigo were gone, the Uktena were fleeing. The Red Talons watched, safely in that FUCKING CAVE of theirs, and there were more wolves than ever. It was not treachery, It was not lies. They came in, and just took over. I need you to understand that when I am saying they just came in, I do not mean no one tried to stop them, I just mean that it was pointless to try. The absolute truth is, a few other wolves stood up, and they were shut down so quickly, and so completely, the sonic boom of the ass whooping scared everyone that called the Bloodied Ground home, into sitting immediately down, and shitting our pants. There were Fianna hanging clovers over dream catchers before we could even find the breath in our lungs to speak up. We tried, after the air returned. Then the sonic boom hit, and we met the Fenrir. We shat ourselves again, and ran for cover. Guess who was already in our beds? The Bone Gnawers. boiling beans in our pots, telling us how nice our place was.
In Kentucky, we knew we were losers before we knew there was a fight. After the smoke cleared, we heard the story. Told to us, like it wasn't even a secret. The Uktena and the Wendigo were tired of being here, but neither was too tired to stop fighting over their "brothers" land. So the Uktena played an old trick on the Wendigo. They told the white men the land belonged to them and the Wendigo stole it. If they helped, then the Uktena would share with them. The White Wolves ALREADY KNEW THIS JOKE. They nodded their heads, and they just walked right through the brothers.
Some of us Fera actually thought this was funny, some of us stood up to help the damn native wolves once they realized something was wrong. It didn't matter. For the first time ever, when dealing with wolves, the Fera got their wish. They were equal in the eyes of the Wolves, and to the Europeans that meant we were all equally insignificant.
When the snakes came together, they did it proudly, with good intent. They went to inform the White Wolves, to styme the violence. The cats locked up their homes, and hit the road. The rats laughed and sharpened their knives. The Bears listened from their caves and under their moonbows. The birds... well, we watched, and we did what we did best in those days. We perched on the shoulders of the wolves and we listened. The spiders, well of course we don't know what exactly they were doing, but we know they were there. The snakes showed up, they went to inform the white wolves, to styme the violence. They never left that meeting. The stories are a little difficult to put together. Look around though. Do you see any copperheads, or cottonmouths in our sacred places? Who holds their glens along the rivers and lakes? The story is an old one. They went to the wolves, just before 1800, and they did not see the new century.
And the wolves moved on. We can be proud all we want, but our pride was not even a speed bump to the White Wolves, and they never noticed us when they built their dens, and their nests.
Then to Now
It broke us. If we are being honest, we already knew that. I might be speaking out of school here, but that was probably the best thing that could have happened for us. See, we couldn't look for a prize, and we couldn't look for the butter, not anymore. Instead, we lived in a Wolf Fascist State, and we HAD to look for enemies. See, wolves will talk about the Wyrm, "Sneaking Up" on them in the 1900's. It was after the paradigm shift of the European ass kicking that we, THE FERA, could see the truth. The Wyrm was already here! Yes, the Europeans brought some of The Destroyer from home, and now we were well past dick deep in it... We were up to our TITS in it.
I hate to agree with the Red Talons, or the Rats, but the humans snuck the wyrm in right under everyone's noses. On The Bloodied Ground, it was common place to buy humans into labor or company stores, then answer their pleading for succor with, "could be worse! you could be a slave!", and the fucking idiots bought it. Humans had moved well past just making tribes. They now owned tribes. Then, imagine this, they created a third tribe by beating and abusing them, and telling them they were special, because they weren't owned! Imagine that! If you think this wasn't the wyrms plan... well, just ask a Bone Gnawer today why he would rather starve then sign up for welfare. IF he doesn't drop the N Bomb, then your talking to Nuwisha. This trap was so well made, the wolves didn't even notice their kin were being raised and trained in it. We would love to say our kin didn't buy into it, but they were too damn dead for us to have to defend them.
The wolves thought this was Kin bullshit, but with the small pox and the slavery and the civil war going on, it really paints a clear picture of what the Wolves think a normal "Kinfolk" issue actually is. For the rest of us, it was life and death. See, the cats just kept sinking deeper and deeper into the wilderness, or running away, or, Luna bless them, falling into Harano. By the early 1900's it is hard to tell if they were gone or hiding. To be fair, the Pumonca in the region had a rough go of it, and by the time the white folk had their way, most of their kin were gone and suffering, because they didn't have the decency to just die on the whites schedule. The Qualmi had managed to sort of... fade away? Well, really they ran to Canada we are told, but there was always a few poking their head down here to check on... something?
Snakes, were dead. Bears... sleeping? Well, no. There was actually a moment of seeing them when something happened at the MoonBow that made it swole AF, but then, they slept. Finally, it was just the birds, those pesky spiders, and the rats. The Spiders can be said to have come into their own at this point, or, maybe for just a moment? In either case, the first police agencies in Kentucky popped up at this time. They were, of course, just put together to catch escaped slaves from other states, and the capital loved that warrant money. Well the spiders loved to mess with humans, and they did just that. Right after the civil war, the spiders produced a series of contradictions, as they are prone to do, and that contradiction cause fire in the hills. The Wyrm was super into enslaving peoples hopes in the coal mines, the spiders were super into fucking with other peoples plans. What if... they created a way for slaves to escape to the coal mines, and cause a civil war within the coal camps that would half destroy the company store, undermine the Kentucky Marshals, and lead to wide spread worker revolt? Well that is what they tried, but remember when I said we were losers? They mostly got what they wanted, but in the end, the Wyrm DID regain control... and it was a new type of control. Then the federal troops rolled in. Who do you think they supported in the end? The black scabs? The coal miners? Nah... Is that a victory?
I guess now is a good time to address the remaining two topics we danced around. One, we haven't discussed yet, the Rats. Two, we haven't discussed the sweet sweet revenge of the Ravens. Now, in 1918 the Spanish Flu hit Kentucky. All it took was one, single wolf kin to die to that toxic lil bug, and the ravens were ready. See, we had been gathering info for awhile. We had also been hanging out on wolf land for a long time. Once a single kin passed away, without the wolves catching it, we were ready. "Of course your gifts could stop it... You certainly would have known... it must have been something else..." then we share some stories and push some buttons... and BOOOMMMMMM!!!! Soon the Silver Fang, The Fianna, and more were looking for an easy out, while a pandemic whipped through the nation. Well, once you tell them it was Rats... No Red Talon is going to tell one of those Silver Wolves no. They also are not super into thinking too deeply. Watching the Red Talons hunt the Rats through the West of Kentucky is the most Shakespearean Poetry any incestuous middle-schooler could dream about. WE STILL TALK ABOUT IT. A two century love affair ends in genocide. I feel like if the Rats weren't too close to it... they would love it.
The Birds finally found a payoff. See, this place has always been a toxic mess of violence. Birds are not good at violence. But all that time with the wolves taught us some things. And those things are our business. I am certain you have heard of the Black King though, and I am pretty sure I can shut up dramatically for your benefit.
So... lets see... the modern day. Well, I am certain you want to hear about the World Wars and the Civil Rights Movement, and all that. Nope. Honestly, nope. That was not the Fera's shizz. I know the rest of the world cared, but fuck them. We, the collective, us. We closed ranks. The truth is that from the 20's through the 70's, the Fera were the last damn thing anyone else was thinking about. We found some kin, built a few cults, repaired some broken hearts and spirits, and then the 80's hit. Hell, my mentors could not give me any 1st hand knowledge about cats, spiders or any of the others. Then we get to the nuts of the cold war, and it would almost be a waste to talk about it. Well, except for the Bear Murder, but that was... ok, lets talk about it.
The Bear Murder was probably not the Wolves fault. After checking all our sources... well... we still don't know why. A young Gurhal came out of fucking nowhere. He was local, but no one knew him. A bear full of piss and vinegar, attempted to kill Papi Fianna, and ended up cutting his mate in half instead. If that is what the Bears have to offer, then no fucking thanks. We have rats, that are still not all dead, and we don't need a fucking 20 ft tall one. Well, that was rough for all of us. This was the moment the recovery of the Fera disappeared, and we all went to Red Alert immediately. Whatever sneaky shit the other Fera were up to... It ended there. Everyone got super clean, super fast. By the end of 84' the McKinneys had a bear skin rug in their double wide.
Before you GTFO
I will do all of you the favor of not contradicting the mythology your mentor's want you to believe about today. Hopefully, the two of us have given you some sort of history to begin to examine. It is not complete, and we are not saying it is completely accurate. However, ask yourself if anything you have been told by your own people is completely factual. It will probably disappoint, but in the dead of the night, when your alone, and you want one of these gaps filled in... well, just look for the crown, and follow the rules. Who knows... maybe we will bop by and fill you in.
