In Brief : The spirit of Gaia has yet to be extinguished in Scotland. The Glasgow Werewolves continue their struggle against the servants of the Wyrm, the Black Spiral Dancers.

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Other Details : When you see not the wolf, fear, for you are the packs prey. Scotland, land of heather, wind and you cannot put the rain far from your mind. Yet the rain the shrouds the famous views, never dims the open delights of the ãwildsä of Scotland. To those that know, those that see, those that remain where they have always been, there is more.

When you leave the central urbanised belt that girdles what was once forested land, and enter a realm where none but the wolf was and is at home, yet they are ·.. gone.

So many believe, but out there on the winds of the night can be heard the howls· of the wind or of the wolf? Do battles still rage watched by Blessed Luna, between the lingering scars of sadness caused by an ancient shift which even now hunts the nights accompanied by the wailing winds.

The Darkness is rising and growing, recently it struck and death coursed the highlands, with many noble losses for her defence and Glory. Yet at the apex of Darkness came near innocent hope. Brought forth from forgotten deaths, their final duty accepted. Those that wisely retreated before the storm of death re-emerge the war has begun, a battle lost but a new chapter is beginning, all feel it, a time of change, the age of the Catalyst.

It is a land of forgotten caerns, besieged Garou, hunted by their Ancient fallen Kin. Yet Gaiaâs defenders eyes are bright, their claws sharp and their wills resolute. Resolute it must be to forge a future from the myriad possibilities which leap towards them, time to find the few, perhaps even the one, within which Gaia resurges.