There are certain courtesies expected even of a cub, and it's better to make contact with the local werewolves on your own terms than to stumble into them. Even if the werewolves of Broad Brook all died, new Garou might have moved in by now. Tradition dictates that you perform the Howl of Introduction. The Howl is traditionally performed by a pack's galliard—the auspice known for its bold presence and talent for leadership in times of peace—but Scarper is far away.
If you'd prefer to be more discreet, you could look for glyphs. Some Garou mark their territory with a unique system of signs and scratches. Though werewolves understand the Primal Tongue almost instinctively, you only know a handful of Garou glyphs. Nonetheless, with enough patience, you might be able to track the marks and symbols to a Caern—a place of spiritual power, sacred to the Garou—or some other werewolf community.
But glyphs are old-fashioned, and not all Garou bother with them anymore. A smart young werewolf could go online and search for evidence of Garou—anything from news articles about "animal attacks" to deliberate hints and riddles left by urban wolves to help facilitate contact. Also, many city wolves move among an urban population's indigent and criminal communities: if you were able to stay cool around them, they might help you.
I Change into my lupus form and chant the Howl of Introduction.
I patiently seek out Garou glyphs and decipher the signs to find other werewolves.
I get online and look for evidence of Garou activity in town—deliberately planted or otherwise.
I act cool and casual around the local transient population. Maybe some of these fringers know about the Garou and can lead me to other werewolves.
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You walk back to Forbes Library and log into one of the public computers. Time to start searching. Werewolves are naturally secretive, but little words and phrases slip out sometimes. You try a few words that have dribbled into regular use, but that just brings you to various pop-occult sites talking about the Beast of Gévaudan or the Jersey Devil. Searching environmental forums doesn't yield anything, so you try a few Green Party and anarchoprimitivist Discords and Slack channels that Scarper used to frequent, asking careful questions and keeping a low profile using one of your more common handles—
SpikesBurstingThroughGrid
menacing_earthworks
rubblelandscape
4biddingBlocks
My usual handle is… [Enter text]
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You're careful with your questions, but insistent, and after hours of prodding and hinting, you get a private DM from someone who might know something…
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CottageCortex u know abnout the caern?
Matulo 2) yeah but I need more information
CottageCortex how can I truts you??
Matulo 2) I'm willing to meet somewhere public
CottageCortex why dont we meet at tenna
Matulo 2) what's tenna?
CottageCortex TENNA THESE NIPPLES
CottageCortex BTCH
CottageCortex BTICH
CottageCortex BICHF
[CottageCortex has left the chat]
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So that didn't go as well as it could have. Just as you're getting frustrated, an email arrives from someone named Daphne Clear at GRC Media Group.
It reads only, "Welcome, Cub."
Someone has noticed your snooping around.
And GRC Media Group is right here in Northampton. Some kind of environmental consultancy group; exactly what they do isn't clear from their website. It's a ten-minute walk from the library to their address.
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GRC Media Group is located in a glossy new building in the boxy and metallic gentrification-chic style, across the street from a garage/junkyard ringed with concertina wire. You circle the building to make sure security isn't heavy. Nothing.
The door swishes silently open as you approach, silently closed as you take in the tasteful atrium, the minimalist decor. A formica table holds brochures and engraved business cards. The one that says Daphne Clear, Chief of Operations, catches your eye because there's a faint, raised design on it. It's Spider, Patron Spirit of the Glass Walker tribe. It seems awfully bold to advertise oneself so clearly, but it's woven so subtly into the pattern that only a Garou would notice.
"Can I…help you?"
A secretary in a purple fleece is sitting at a white plastic desk beneath a huge flatscreen monitor that's cycling through nature scenes. Her tone and expression say that some kind of bum, possibly a drug addict, just wandered into her tasteful atrium.
"Good afternoon! I'm here to see Ms. Clear." No reason to be rude, or to waste time.
Best to learn about this place first. "I'm just picking up some brochures."
"You can help by watching your tone."
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You flip through the nearest brochure.
GRC Media Group: providing sustainability communication solutions to a global marketplace. GRC Media Group's unrivaled content distribution platforms offer your organization—
"Are you…here with an appointment?" the secretary says, a trace of contemptuous amusement in her voice.
You hold up the brochure to make it clear why you're here.
Developing purpose-driven communications with GRC Media Group: a global audience of stakeholders requires—
There's some whispering at the desk. When you look up again, a man is striding toward you. Not a security guard, just a big guy in a too-small button down shirt, face and fists red and sweaty.
"You're gonna have to get out of here, pal."
He meets your gaze and winces only a little, barely affected by your Rage.
You might be able to bluster your way through to Ms. Clear, but you're not sure a Glass Walker would approve of you twisting this man's head off and flinging it at the TV screen.
I just shove my way past these silly people. I need to see Ms. Clear.
It won't be easy, but I should be able to persuade them to let me pass.
It'll be hard to lie to these skittish people, but I make something up to score a meeting with Ms. Clear.
I don't want a confrontation—I back off. Then I sneak back in; I'm definitely clever enough to find a way inside.
I don't need a fight here; I back off and leave.
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