Summary
Dominated by the Glass Walkers who were its founders and who still control its agenda, this small sept calls a former newspaper building in Fleet Street home, and has devoted itself to a greater understanding of the spirits of the city — firstly, and most importantly, the sept’s totem spirit, the City Mother of London itself.
History
By Garou standards, the sept of the Glass Towers is a new one — particularly in comparison with the centuries-old sept of the Spiked Pavise in Hillingdon. Created less than a century ago in the wake of the destruction wrought by the Second World War, it was the brainchild of a Glass Walker pack who believed that the Fleet Street area’s status as the nerve center of British — and, at the time, therefore the world’s — news made it uniquely suited as a place to establish a caern that would help them understand not only the ever-multiplying exotic spirits of technology and industry, but also the workings of London itself as an enormous and ever-expanding ecosystem.
The founders, through the medium of an extensive network of kinfolk, had spent several years surveying the area surreptitiously in order to find the right location. They first bought up what real estate they could, and then, stymied by the strong presence of the Weaver in the area, waited patiently for an opportunity to proceed. When word came that one of the heaviest bombing raids of the war was planned for the next evening, the Glass Walkers set their plan into motion. Their Theurges set the rite in motion, while most of the rest of the local Garou went on offense rather than defense — persuading the spirits to guide German bombs onto the targets that would force both Weaver and Wyrm to look to their own houses, and, if those attempts failed, attacking or sabotaging those targets themselves.
Their plan worked … although not as well as they hoped. Establishing even a small urban caern counted as a victory, but unexpectedly heavy bombing and an aggressive response from the Wyrm’s footsoldiers drew away some of the Garou who should have been assisting the rite, preventing their creation from being as powerful as expected. A success, yes, but the new caern would remain in the shadow of the much older and more established one in Ruislip Woods to the far west of the city center — a situation that caused ongoing wrangling between the two septs, with the Glass Towers attempting to assert its independence, and the Spiked Pavise attempting to exert more control. By the 1980s things had settled down into an uneasy detente, although the rivalry still flares up on regular occasions.
A reputation for conflict, both with one another and with the forces of the Weaver and Wyrm, is catnip — so to speak — to parts of the Garou Nation, and not surprisingly, the Get of Fenris have filtered into the sept in increasing numbers ever since the 1980s, to the point where they are now the second most populous tribe in the city centre — still a distant second behind the Glass Walkers, but drawing steadily closer. In contrast to their reputation, the Get have been an asset to the sept, with their leadership enforcing strict discipline and redirecting the tribe’s eagerness for a more aggressive policy into the Umbra and Subterranean London. Even the substantial contingent of Children of Gaia that have been supporters of the Walkers since the 1960s grudgingly agree that they’ve behaved themselves — as much as the Get ever do, at least.
The Glass Towers has remained a small sept by Garou standards — almost a guerrilla (or, to the less generous, terrorist) organization within the city. With Fleet Street now a center for banking rather than news, some of their original intentions have gone by the way side, but the aggressive modernization of the financial world has provided them — if anything — even more opportunities to study and interact with unusual spirits. Their continued existence, though, is likewise more precarious than they had hoped; the Weaver’s influence has only grown stronger and stronger, the existence of Pentex’s worldwide headquarters less than a mile away is a constant source of worry, and the location in the center of London mandates a heavy reliance on their kinfolk for day-to-day functioning. Thus far, however, the Wyrm has proved unwilling to subject the heart of London to the sort of assault that would be required to destroy the sept, and the Garou of the Glass Towers are determined that if and when they do, they will pay in blood and ichor for every inch.
Totem
The sept’s totem is the City Mother of London itself — the first of its kind ever discovered by the Garou, and still one of the strongest and best known. (Yes, we know that canonically, London’s City Parent totem is male rather than female. We think the female version fits better.)
Leadership
Charles Meadwell, “Sees-the-Strands”, Sept Alpha
Homid Glass Walker Philodox
For a tribe known to their cousins as being forward-thinking to a fault, Charles Meadwell is a conundrum. On the one hand, he’s a firm advocate of technology, city living, and the unique spirits that the evolution of human civilization has helped foster. The investment firm he heads, Fenestre Holdings, is a model of up-to-the-minute modernity, with most of its traders working exclusively on a remote basis. On the other hand, he can be something of a reactionary when it comes to matters or national interest, a Euro-skeptic and Brexit advocate who’s not at all shy about saying that he feels Britain’s future is, and should be, independent of the mainland.
The Philodox waves away such apparent contradictions with Whitman quotes and in an accountant’s hard-nosed terms: local governments, he argues, are simply better at fostering and preserving the ecologies of their surroundings than distant administrators, for whom it’s easy to see parts of their domain as acceptable sacrifices. And to his credit, he walks the walk: during the ten-plus years he’s stood as sept Alpha, foreigners and members of other tribes have been welcomed in his territory, treated on equal terms with native Londoners, and he’s shown no reluctance in delegating the care of smaller parts of the Sept’s protectorate to packs who’ve demonstrated their expertise and their dedication.
He’s open-minded enough to have fostered a cordial relationship with the Corax of London, and while no one would mistake him for an advocate of cooperation with the other Changing Breeds — much less any of the other supernatural creatures infesting London — he has a pragmatist’s attitude toward them: the Garou’s task is already an imposing one, and finding enemies where it isn’t necessary will do nothing but make it more so.
Pippin Walker, “Walks-Narrow-Paths”, Mistress of the Challenge & Truthcatcher
Homid Children of Gaia Philodox
Arbitrating challenges when there’s a substantial population of Fenrir is bad enough. Arbitrating challenges and settling disputes in a sept where the most numerous tribes are the Glass Walkers, the Get, the Children of Gaia, and the Bone Gnawers is enough to make even the most level-headed person in the world pull her hair out. When the previous officeholder departed, and a young Gaian was appointed to fill the office temporarily until a proper successor could be found, the quiet consensus among the Garou of the Towers was that if the job didn’t eat Pippin Walker alive, an angry werewolf probably would. That was five years ago, and Pippin remains both in office and very much uneaten.
As it turns out, growing up on a communal farm in rural England isn’t at all a cushy upbringing. Not only has Pippin been doing manual labor since she was physically able, she’s been planning and tracking crops and consumption since she could do basic sums, while also getting a full primary and secondary education. Although no longer “motivating” shirking farmers or publicly haranguing (in a broad Yorkshire accent) those who take more than their fair share from stores, she’s equally capable of talking down angry Garou and overpowering those who’re too furious to listen to reason. Only the very new arrivals make the mistake of thinking that being a Child of Gaia makes her a soft touch or a pushover; she wants peace, yes, but she’s prepared to make the hard choices necessary to bring it about.
Athir Samuelsson, “Steelgaze”, Master of the Howl & Wyrm Foe
Homid Get of Fenris Galliard
Athir’s father is one of many pureblooded Fenrir kinfolk who’ve settled in England over the centuries. His mother is a Sudanese refugee, and while he may not look much like the blonde and blue-eyed Nordic stereotype, he’s as much Get as any of those who are, and ready to prove it to anyone who doubts. In his early years he had to do so often, and against plenty of his tribe whose prejudices got the better of them. Now in his mid-fifties, he’s so consistently risen to any challenge put before him (and succeeded) that his mixed heritage has become a point of pride to the London Get, with some of them even searching for evidence that “Athir” is really a traditional Nordic name that somehow made its way to sub-Saharan Africa.
Unfortunately, a lifetime of proving himself has ground away whatever generosity or tolerance the Galliard once had. A ruthless pragmatist, he allows no discrimination on any basis other then capability and performance — but has very little time for those who can’t demonstrate either. In his mind, the fact of his ascent demonstrates that any Garou who wants to succeed can succeed, and those who fail do so because they aren’t willing to make the sacrifices required. Measure up to his exacting standards and he’ll be unstinting in his praise, whether you’re a metis, a Bone Gnawer, or the purest of pure-blooded Silver Fangs. Fall short, and you’d better not wait for him to help you to your feet, because he’ll expect you to get up on your own.
Jane Smith, “Unlisted-Number”, Mistress of the Rite
Homid Glass Walker Theurge
“Jane Smith” isn’t her real name, she’ll explain with laborious patience. A small, nondescript woman in her thirties whose bland looks could belong to almost anyone in the London streets, she uses a pseudonym because she doesn’t know what name she was born under. Since infancy she’s always been forgettable — abandoned by her parents, she bounced from one foster home to another, never leaving much of a mark on any of them, until her First Change threw her into a whole new world. Cultivating her own anonymity, she’s exchanged connections with the human world for closer ties with the spirit world, becoming a person who knows the ins and outs, the desires and wishes, the secrets and mysteries of the city like few others. Her aptitude for dealing with urban spirits has few peers, and even those among the Walkers (and the Get) who mutter that she’s a bit too close to a Bone Gnawer in outlook have to admit that London whispers wisdom into her ears like she’s a lost sibling.
Of all the sept’s elders, Jane is one of the more difficult to approach, and certainly one of the more difficult to please. Her standards when it comes to anything related to the spirit world are as exacting as her standards for dress and self-presentation are lax, and even minor errors in the conduct of rites in her presence are likely to earn an immediate correction and a frown of displeasure. Her manner is sharp, she doesn’t suffer fools gladly, and she has little time for human social niceties. Although she undoubtedly has a great deal to teach, she makes a habit of turning away unsolicited requests for training — though on occasion she’ll approach someone who’s done the caern a great service to offer instruction on some subject of interest to them.
Zaaset Nephorus, “Sees-the-Horizon”, Warder & Keeper of the Land
Homid Silent Strider Ahroun
No one really knows where Zaaset comes from, why it is that a Silent Strider of all people has taken up the post of Warder, or, indeed, whether this is her real name. The story is that she arrived about a decade ago after a stint at a sept in the American Pacific Northwest, one that was overtaken by disaster in the wake of her departure — a story that, like any good Strider, Zaaset has no interest in confirming, denying, or even discussing. What is known is that she’s a formidable fighter, a cunning strategist, and a bold tactician when the need arises, but one who’s bent her considerable talents entirely to the defense of the Glass Towers and its territory. Of course, the best defense is a good offense, and Zaaset has been known to co-opt younger Garou to handle tasks that would take her away from the caern for longer than she deems acceptable.
A woman of indeterminate Middle Eastern heritage, her dark hair is now streaked with grey, and her face lined with age as well as with battle scars. Constantly in motion, she won’t sit still for any but the most momentous events, and more than once, Garou who think they’re alone to conduct some surreptitious business in the far corners of the Fenestre Holdings tower have been surprised by her sudden appearance on one of her boundary walks; no part of the sept’s territory is too small or too insignificant for her attention. Questions abound among the younger Garou as to why it is she seems able to defy her tribe’s curse, what it is that keeps her here, and what she knows and isn’t telling — questions to which there are so far no answers. But the unwavering support she’s demonstrated for Meadwell since her arrival and rise to prominence is a major reason why the Get have not mounted a more determined challenge to his leadership yet, and he, in turn, is unstinting when it comes to providing whatever resources she needs to do her job.
Rohan Fletcher, “Rolled-Hundred”, Talesinger
Homid Glass Walker Galliard
Heritage can be a hard thing to live up to. Rohan is the son of a genuine Glass Walker hero, a man who rose to prominence in the Chicago Wars and perished in defense of the Sept of Gaia’s Bones when it came under Wyrm assault. By contrast, Rohan — while certainly no one’s idea of a shirker or a blemish on a famous family name — is … so far fairly undistinguished. Oh, he has time to change that — still only in his mid-twenties, his career remains mostly ahead of him — but he just doesn’t seem to have the drive, the charisma, the indefinable “it” factor of his famous father. He shows more interest in spreading tales of valor and daring on the part of other Garou than he does in creating his own.
It’s certainly not for lack of talent. A skilled combatant in both forms, Rohan is reputed to be every bit the demon his father was when using knives or guns, and no one has ever alleged any lack of bravery or commitment on his part. He does his duty and he does it well, so perhaps any failings on his part are really just the result of people comparing him to a near-mythical figure and finding, unsurprisingly, that he comes up short. If so, it’s hard to blame him for an inability to live up to expectations that almost no one could live up to.
Facilities
The sept of the Glass Towers is home to a level 2 Urban caern, per p.310 of the W20 Core Rulebook, meaning that the Gauntlet within its bawn (roughly speaking, the building itself, including the underground areas) is 4. Use of the Rite of the Opened Caern can provide bonuses of up to +2 dice on Streetwise rolls.
There’s also plenty of space in the remainder of the Fenestre Holdings building — a great deal of it, in fact. The building is closed to outsiders, with all employees of Fenestre working remotely other than a handful of kinfolk; there isn’t even a reception desk on the ground floor, in order to discourage interest from passersby. To ensure that the sept’s Garou are as far away from humans as possible, the first three floors are off-limits except when entering or leaving the building. Fortunately, there are always at least a handful of kin around to make runs to a food truck, to the bank, or to the nearest Sainsbury’s for necessities of life.
Although certainly not a five-star hotel by any stretch of the imagination, Garou who need a place to crash in safety can always find some corner of the building to hole up in, as long as they’ll leave it at least as clean as they found it. (And as long as they aren’t too discomfited by the Warder or one of her lieutenants appearing out of nowhere to check up on them.) One full floor has been converted into an open exercise room — missile weapons are of course forbidden, but members of the sept and guests who have been vetted by Zaaset can take out their frustrations on one another, or on the inanimate, as the case may be.
Some of the middle floors have been converted for hydroponics experiments, and while food grown this way is often tasteless and unsatisfying, these gardens do at least offer some touches of greenery and nature in the midst of an otherwise mostly empty building. The rooftop has several open skylights that admit rainfall, and can also be used by occasional Corax visitors to the sept — though for the most part they prefer to remain on the roof rather than trust too much to the werewolves’ hospitality.
And, of course, deep below the building is a locked and warded vault door watched day and night by Guardians who are there not to keep anyone in but to keep the denizens of Subterranean London out. Leaving is simple enough, but anyone who wants to enter by that route had best have checked with the Warder beforehand.