UK Forsaken History

Details are scarce of the true history of Britain’s land and Shadow, there are rumours of Julius Caesar being the first human to truly affect the lands across the Gauntlet. There are rumours of Spirits coming across and making Monarchs and Lords into Ridden, of a Uratha hunting on four legs at night and robbing the Sheriff’s men by day. Nevertheless it is generally agreed that at some time before the Great Fire of London a deal was struck between the pre-eminent Ithaeur of the land and a powerful Spirit named the Rat King.

This deal was to stop the spread of disease, of the plague, and as the Tribes of the Moon worked to aid the Rat King and its Brood to keep spiritual predators from them, and to not drive them back to the Shadow, the Beshilu who were in the country were hunted, and with them all rats. Some claim that the Fire marked the end of the Pact. Others say that it is still followed by some Packs, descended from those who made the deal with the devil. One thing is certain – the Rat King isn’t telling.

Since the days and nights of the 17th century things changed, slowly at first but with increasing quickness, as battles between the varied Spirit Courts changed the landscape of the Hisil and affected the Realm too. As the Industrial Revolution swept into full swing the Court of Cogs formed from a movement amongst certain spirits and became not merely a full Court, but was for many years the paramount of all Britain’s Spirit Courts.

Things changed, suddenly and rapidly, for the People as the twentieth century rolled in. As the war in Europe loomed hostilities between the Tribes of the Moon and the sinister Pure grew until they were barely short of outright war in some areas of the country. As war in Europe became a fact these fights between Uratha turned more vicious, with casualties on both sides becoming not merely a sad fact but a common occurrence. This meant that when the war was finally over and the troops returned home there were not enough of the People to stem the tide of spirits, in both worlds, which accompanied them.

Displaced from the broken lands of Europe at first hundreds then thousands of spirits poured into Britain. The Tribes of the Moon had lost so many warring against the Pure that they could not stand against this tide of spirits – many territories were overrun and lost to the People. Some have still never been recovered – some Cahalith suggest that Spirits in Twilight and Ridden will be commonplace, and that the Tribes of the Moon have a duty to do, but even the most rabid Elodoth realises that there are not the numbers, nor the will, to do anything of it.

However, not all was lost for as Europe tottered towards another great war a council was called, a great War Council gathered Uratha from across the lands, some coming from overseas to hear what was said and to present their own views. It is rumoured that some of the Pure Tribes attended, though none say they spoke any, and there are none who now live who claim they saw them there. After the council was done, a thing of near a moons turning with People coming and going throughout, a decision was made.

Another flood of spirits could not be allowed. Those Packs whose territory was the coast would safeguard those routes. Others of the People would leave Britain for the continent in an attempt to control those spirits who sought the safety of an island nation. Though this was a hard path for many, and a path which saw much Uratha blood spilt far from its territory, it was largely successful. Many spirits had been born within the country, but few had come to it from outside. Britain was saved.

What was even more amazing to those battered survivors is that their territories were in a remarkable state. Houses were levelled, people had been killed, Loci had been destroyed, created, moved. But the Spirit Wilds were contained; there were neither dozens nor hundreds of rogue spirits or Ridden. Most of all though, the Pure had not taken this golden opportunity to seize land from their hated Brothers.

For some things settled down into something approaching civility for a while, then the same old same old thing happened time and again. The People started to look outside their borders with jealous eyes, or started to snap at any who would come and parlay. Once more territories became islands of suspicion, spirit, host, Pure, Tribe of the Moon…any could be a threat. Of course that changed, had to change, in the Bloody ’69.

Its easy to laugh at the name, it sounds like a bad porno film, but the truth is far from that. What actually happened was that the gates of hell opened and we were in the way. No trumpet blowing, no banner waving. It was bad. Three of the biggest, oddest, most downright scary things which anyone had ever seen didn’t just step into existence – they ripped a hole and stepped through it! Sounds difficult to believe, but it was the truth never the less, look hard in the dark places and you’ll find the Markers. The Memorials. They’re all over. Markers to those who looked outside of their territory and came to do the duty of Father Wolf. Seeing these crazy, powerful spirit things, seeing what they were doing and realising that the Tribes of the Moon were the only things which could stop them.

Many died. Some say dozens, some say hundreds, regardless these monstrous spirits, these Idigam, were finally defeated. Two of them were destroyed, no matter the dozens of Uratha who joined them, and the third was driven into the sea. All in all the Bloody ’69 wasn’t even a full year, 10 months it took from a hole torn in existence till the trio of terror were dealt with. But it was 10 months where the Tribes of the Moon learnt something of working together, and of trust.

Something surfaced in England in the mid-'70s; a creature from deep in the Spirit Wilds, an entity of heat and fire that drained the life out of loci as it passed, with a taste for wells, springs and pools. The resonance from its passing was reflected in the great drought of '76, as reservoirs and rivers began to run dry. A desperate coalition of the Tribes of the Moon, along with some hard-won allies from the Court of Ice and Wind, set upon it in an attempt to drive it off. After a harrying it across northern Lincolnshire, the thing was driven towards an oil refinery near Scunthorpe.

No one really knows what happened next; what is known is that the refinery (at Flixborough) detonated; the resulting fuel-air explosion killed over two dozen unsuspecting workers in the physical world, and no Uratha survivors ever reported back. The entity was never seen again, and the entire area around the refinery is now a Barren.

Course this co-operation didn’t last even as much as a decade. The way that the modern world is someone has an idea one place and it spreads like a virus all over. Seemed like the country was caught in some sort of madness – madness which became known as the Brethren War. It was the mid 80’s and for one reason or another, might have been some Rahu from up north pushing things around and trying to make alliances into an empire, or some Cahalith down south spreading stories which were less than true, hell, I even heard one story that it was down to some Bale Hounds pretending to be Blood Talons and starting things off proper good. Anyhow the end result was bad.

For 2 years, near enough, the country was at war with itself. We’d lost some of the brightest and best fighting the Idigam, we lost more of them fighting each other. When the Pure decided it was time to take over there was near nothing we could do – places which had been held by the People for as long as anyone could remember, glades as well as loci, all fell like dominos. The Fire Touched of the Pure tribes really cleaned up – they made a lot of converts and, so says a self-proclaimed expert on them, a Prophet of that tribe rose up to unite the Fire Touched nationally. Bound-in-Flames he called himself, or his Pack, most figure he was killed by a bunch of Irraka back in ’88, but not one of those made it out to tell the tale, and every so often the name comes up. So who can say for true?

To make matters even worse for the Tribes of the Moon in 1984 and 1985 troubles between two of the Spirit Courts of Britain came to a head with shocking results in the physical world. Many Ithaeur believe that it was a deliberate attack by the Court of Sparks on the Court of Industry which made the circumstances for country-wide pit closures, and the subsequent troubles and violence of the Miners Strike. Its certain that spirits from both of those courts were involved in stepping it up and that the besieged Tribes of the Moon were hard-pressed to stem the spiritual flows. Eventually the effort had to be abandoned in many places as the attacks from the Pure continued without pause.

Anyhow, the Brethren War had come and hit us hard, near as hard as the Pure, and there was another of those talking councils. People got together from all over – ended up near Buxton they did – and they made an accord. Took long enough but what was said was echoed by everyone there, and when word went back to them as hadn’t gone it was said there too. Simple, but right;

"From this dawn and onwards Brother shall not war on Brother – we are all one People"

So, basically, the Ithaeur there did a big old ritual and the Irraka ran a hunt, and everyone joined in and got a spirit – Ice-Wind by name – to bind itself to the statement made. A binding to all of those who had swore the Oath of the Moon. A binding to carry words should war once more visit these shores, to remind all of the outcome.

Well, that was nice, and with folks again starting to talk, and maybe to trust, things progressed further. That was till the midst of the 1990’s, not just a bad decade for music, the People and their territories started going missing. About ’95 and the Winter King, most important of all the Uratha of London, was killed. Rival claimants to the throne started a cold war which became known as the Winter War. Suspicion ruled and the Tribes of the Moon started to eye each other with suspicion. Finally a group of People gathered in the Peak District to find Ice Wind. Turns out it was a semi-organised bunch of the Pure trying to weaken from within before attacking from without. That didn’t matter too much to folks down south though – start of April 2003 and the Uratha of London turned into each other – the cold war had turned red hot, and even more of the People died. Some folks started to whisper the name ‘Bound-in-Flames’ in corners, but nothing came of it. Probably.

We fought, and struggled, as we have since Pangaea was no more, and that’s as it will always be. For sure it’s the way things are now – every day and every night a struggle for survival, and more things out there which want you dead than those who’ll help you, even for a price. Forsaken indeed.

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