The Scar is one of the thirteen near realms in the Umbra. If cities are likened to gray scabs on the surface of Gaia, the Scar is rightfully named. This once-Weaver realm was said to come about during the Industrial Revolution, when such things as child labor laws, safety standards and other work related niceties were non-existent. But some argue saying that it has always been were ever there was forced labor and suffering, this is met with laugher and counter-arguments stating that if the Scar existed ''that'' long something would have been done about it. Some believe that the Scar was originally like a homid version of Wolfhome. Whatever the Scar was to begin with, it is now a far cry from what it is now. A vile blight with an unholy alliance of Weaver and Wyrm, spirits that call this realm their home. Here captured spirits, along with a few shifters that been forced into servitude, are drained of their essences in order to make Wyrm-tainted fetishes. Every employee's nightmares come to life here, as the soul deadening horrors of the work-place are not only made real, but they thrive.

Business Charts

Simply put most can not really imagine what the Scar is like, because everyone things their jobs suck. However, any job, no matter how small, dirty, or tedious compared to the flagrancy of the environment that the Scar has to offer is… well, heaven. Here countless factories belch out smog into already filthy air. The ground has been ravaged by strip-mines and a few architectural abortions of office buildings provide headquarters for the Banes and Weaver-spirits that over see the whole affair. One can get quickly covered in soot just by standing still. Emanations that exist here ("live" is far too great a word for these poor things) are pale and sickly, only existing to run the machines that slowly grind spirits for their Gnosis. Here Eighty hour work weeks, appalling working conditions, no benefits or over time, and no future are the norm. Any slacking or deviation from work is punishable by docking of your energy wage (most of it goes to slumlords anyway) or termination. In other words, you work to live, and live to work.

However that isn't as bad as those who are forced to live on the streets of this dismal realm. Their presence is tolerated, nay even encouraged by the barons of industry here. Pretty much cause they can be rounded up and used to fuel the eternally clanking machines that drive the realm. And watching over this whole realm is mob of petty overseers: Scrags, spiders, and other Banes and Weaver-spirits that act as the foremen of the factories. They continually enforce regulations and punish for the slightest stepping out of line, they are the ones that keep the factories running. With constant threats of demotion and their inherent natures they are the worst and most wretched of tyrants. The factories of this realm churn out what is pretty much pure evil. Pattern webs, tainted fetishes, and just plain crap. They are a safety inspector's worst night-terror. All wires are exposed and sparking, rusting and broken pipes, body part grinding gears, hellishly hot ovens and reeking smoke fumes. Assembly lines run 24-7, with no end to the toil. And of course slacking is punished with whips or shock batons liberally laid into the back.

But the factories seem like a paradise compared to the textile mills. These frenetic firetraps constantly spin out pattern webs that enforce the realms Gauntlet. Sometimes the mills grow so overheated that they spontaneously burst into flames. Workers aren't even allowed away from their stations as they burn. After all if workers can still do their jobs as long as they can perform them.
Many of the office buildings have been broken down and moved to the CyberRealm. The few remaining are drab, soul draining pits that are reminisant to a Dilbertesque hell. Cubicles form insane mazes, computers are clogged with endless numbers of pointless emails that instruct them to do just as pointless tasks. There are no promotions, no raises, the very idea of "vacations", "maternity leave" or even "401(k)" invokes laughter in the from the Scrag managers. That is if they can be bothered from sexually harassing secretaries. Bathrooms are backed up, phones are always ringing, the copier is always jammed, and the intercom constantly spews out a garbled crackly mess of vapid messages about "teamwork", "empowerment" and "total quality paradigms."

Any visitors captured (and they tend to be quite quickly), will find themselves forced into the system. Chained to what ever work station that needs new workers, then slowly and methodically drained of their Gnosis. Once all gnosis is drained and they fall dead from exhaustion, their bodies are tossed into a corpse grinder. Why, you may ask, would a Garou or any other shifter allow themselves to be drained of such a vital bit of themselves? Easy, they can't help themselves. literally. Once put to work at one of these machines they know nothing else, as the realm saps them of their Willpower and blocks their Rage.

The only good news is that if one is able to overcome the dreary affects of the Scar, they can see all sorts of ways to perhaps invoke a rebellion. Those who rule over the Scar tend to store the Gnosis they gather in large Gnosis batteries, and many of the buildings are such death traps that they could go off with a mere spark…

Who's in Charge Here?

Those who rule this realm are a bevy of Weaver and Wyrm-spirits who pattern themselves after the worst of human businesspersons. All of them owning one of the realms consortiums or corporations, and ruling it with an iron fist. And most of these creatures have gained a little freedom from their parent Celestine.. Only because they're doing what they need to be doing for now, and none of the spirits in the Weaver or Wyrm's hierarchies have any reason to exert any control over what they do.

The barons use the Guardsmen to enforce their wills, mostly brutal emanations and Scrags. These guardsmen and Scrags quickly crush any attempts at uprisings or unions. However they do dabble in racketeering, selling energy at over inflated prices to desperate emanations.

Bane Spiders are the ones that spin most of the structures in the Scar. These creatures were once of the Weaver, but somehow became corrupted by the Wyrm. Bane spiders look like pattern spiders, however they can use bane charms along with the charms they already have.

Losing Market Shares

Interestingly enough, the Scar is going through some major changes, maybe even fading. Learned Garou Theurges are speculating because the Scar came about in the Industrial Age, spanning from the 19th to much of the 20th century, that it is loosing its foot hold in the modern Information Age, and is being replaced with the strengthening CyberRealm. In other words, out sourcing jobs to the CyberRealm is much more efficient than the obsolete, rickety factories of the Scar. Those Bane-Barons that tyrannized the Scar are now trying to catch up with the times by out source to the CyberRealm's Pit and Uptown locations. This leaves their holdings in the Scar for their former underlings to squabble over.

But even with this going on, the Scar's work relentlessly goes on. In undeveloped third world countries. Places were children are forced to make soccer balls until their fingers bleed. In Russia, where impoverished proletariats toil in rundown factories of a shattered economy. In the clear-cut forests of the Amazon. The Scar may not be the most prestigious hell anymore but were these things are… But as long as there are these things exist… So shall it too.

Clocking In and Out

There are lots of paths leading to the Scar. Almost too many… and what's worse is that the lack of banes there makes them inviting. Getting out of the Scar on the other hand is something of a task unto itself. With its stifling nature, endless factors luring you to work at their assembly lines, and relentless overseers constantly whipping the everloving Gnosis out of you, who wouldn't want to leave this realm? That is if they could feel any of their Rage or tap into their Willpower. So there seems like there isn't any way one possibly can get out right? Well there is, but either way it isn't easy.

The first way to try an manage an escape it to weaken the gauntlet around the Scar, no easy task, due to the fact that it is constantly being reinforced by those accursed textile factories. The second way to get out is to attempt to dream one's way out. If one manages to do this, they will find themselves in the Dream Zone. Again, this is no easy task. The horror of this realm is just so that it is nearly impossible to dream of escape, if anything at all..

Rules of the Scar

  • Because of bad lighting and acrid smoke that overhangs everything, it is nearly impossible to see or smell any thing in the Scar.
  • The Gauntlet around the scar is nearly that of a research Lab (Nine). Any blotches in stepping sideways will result in Weaver-spirits coming to calcify the poor soul.
  • Because of the palpable malaise that infects the realm, all attempts to use Rage or Primal-Urge are increased by three. This includes trying to shift forms.
  • Spirits trapped within the Scar that aren't Wyrm-spirits or Weaver-spirts native to the area have nearly no Gnosis or Essence. They are barely alive by all counts. They have just enough of themselves to at a "starvation" level. Predatory Banes like to snack on these spirits.
  • A Shapeshifter who shatters a Gnosis batter will gain a sudden influx of temporary Gnosis, up to their maximum level. So does everyone else in the local area.
  • Shapeshifters captured and put to work in the factories have their Gnosis drained of them on a daily basis. One temporary Gnosis for every day of labor.
  • To find one's way around this place, one must be a little streetwise.
  • The Textile mills of the Scar make the webbing that binds the area's Gauntlet so tight. Damaging or destroying one reduces the Gauntlet in the immediate area by one.
  • Countless emanations and elementals toil in the realm, reduced to hopelessness by the miasma of the place. A shapeshifter may be able to inspire them with enough energy, or possibly get aid from them.
  • Resisting Harano by this dreary place is almost impossible.
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