"OUT OF THE WILD"

Ahunger older than mankind burns inside the wolves. When other Kindred curse their appetites and choose the gilded cage of the city and the leash of social hierarchy, the wolves accept the Beast as a part of themselves and run free. Crossing borders between species, nations, and domains with the ease of perfect predators, they belong to the wild and the wild belongs to them. To think of them as noble savages is perilous, as the animals have little respect for the arrogance of civilization, and only the strongest survive their bloody hunts and savage initiations. Trading stories of war and the secret histories of their kind around campfires lit with the bones of their oppressors, they have turned their backs on the Camarilla and fight tooth and claw to escape the endless plots of their fellow Kindred.



"Yeah, I know what you’re thinking. I see your shoulders hunched, your brow furrowed, your hair on end. “Rudi,” you’re thinking, “have you brought me out to the projects just to dust me?” No, young blood. We’re not meeting in the shittiest part of the city so I can snap your head off or for you to take in the view. This place is the wilderness we get these nights. In your grandsire’s time, you might have been stalking the woods and plains while the Ventrue ran the cities. But that time’s gone. They’re losing control of their cities, and we are taking control of the ways in and out. This is your territory now, and you won’t let it go without the pack’s say-so. You’ve got to prove your worth in the Clan of the Beast. We’re not some exclusive club for snobs and elitists, but we believe in deeds over words and in the strength of the pack and the unity of family. If you defend our haven, take out one of our enemies, bring us the skull of a Ravnos or shapeshifter, or just humiliate the Prince by trashing her favorite car, you’ll be good by our standards. It doesn’t take more than that. Just remember that lone wolves, as cool as they seem, get picked off first. We’re more than just glorified bikers, but I accept the analogy. We don’t put down roots, we take initiation into our group seriously, and we accept no masters. Your grandsire? He or she knelt before some blue blood and learned to take it like a bitch. You? If you kneel, I’ll kill you myself."



Clan Gangrel are outcasts, wanderers, rogues, and hunters. They make havens in the poorest parts of the city and feel no shame for doing so. They claim few domains as their own but defer to no prince. If a feral enters a city, the prince will either accept it or have to fight the feral to get them to back down. Gangrel Embrace from the ranks of survivors and fighters: leaders of prison crews and gangs, explorers (urban and otherwise), and any kine who sees the world as something to traverse instead of something to hide from. They care not for looks or title, but for accomplishment and reputation. A childe may be a challenge, but the clan follows rituals and initiations to ensure the fledgling is worth the time. Success means a new, honored member of the clan. Failure means simply a forgettable reject or a pile of ash.



Any mortal capable of projecting their will onto others, leading a group from disaster to success, or fighting impossible odds draws the clan’s attention. This fact results in a symptom known as “too many chiefs,” when the clan consists of more leaders than followers. Customs encourage fights for dominance, but these rarely last until final death, as Gangrel elders advocate against taking competition for authority personally, instead encouraging a culture of healthy rivalry.

ANIMALISM - PROTEAN - FORTITUDE