The Predator kings are the smallest of the Pure Tribes in the UK. Slowly pushed into the wilderness by civilization, the Ninna Farakh have been all but cut off from their Totem, Dire Wolf, and this has left them feeling empty. Packs of Predator Kings are to be found in The Pennines, the Yorkshire Moors, the Highlands and Snowdonia. They try to cover up their inner pain with hatred and violence towards the Forsaken, especially those that are foolish enough to venture into their territory.
Recently several Predator Kings began to visit towns and cities with frightening regularity. Taking Hishu or Dalu form and walking the streets, leading gangs of disaffected youths and the unemployed alike, doing all that they can to ruin the sanctity of towns and cities. These Predator Kings have no goal beyond shaping their charges into feral humans and reminding people that they are no longer safe in their homes — the illusion of civilization will crumble, and when it does, the Predator Kings will be waiting to slay anything that does not understand the new order. Forsaken in these areas are hunted without mercy by Predator Kings and their human ‘packs,’ hounded through the streets and finally run to ground, pelted with stones and bottles — and only then do the humans back off and the real hunt begin.
Though their results are without question, the Predator Kings who attempt to claim urban areas are acting in direct violation of Dire Wolf’s commandment of their tribe. Even as they try to make things better for their tribe and for the Pure as a whole, the Predator Kings are committing sins against their own Harmony. They willingly distance themselves from a totem that they know will never manifest in the UK, hoping that others of their tribe will be able to capitalize on their success. They are wrong — a feral city was still a city, and will have the stink of human involvement long after the last person or werewolf there has died. The city-walking Predator Kings refuse to believe it, but the truth remains. Being distanced from their totem has distanced them from what it means to be a Predator King as well. Others among their tribe hope that the same madness does not overtake them.
Even when basing themselves in villages or towns, the Predator Kings do their best to hold to their totem’s command. If they must shelter in a house, they do not use gas, electricity, or running water. The walls and roof are no more than shelter and camouflage. They cannot stay in one place for long, as concerned neighbours complain about the house falling to pieces around its occupants. Rather, they base themselves for a night or two, and then move on, back to the fields and the few wild places left. To do any more would insult Dire Wolf.
During the Massacre of the London Wound, the Ninna Farakh gleefully led the charge against the weakened Forsaken, slaughtering them with impunity, their rage and pain finally being given an outlet. After the battle several packs of Predator Kings surrounded London, abiding in the green belt. Should the Forsaken try to flee the city via rail, road or even air they will find packs of slathering beasts waiting to tear them apart in a frenzy of blood and fur. The city walking Ninna Farakh aid the city dwelling Anshega and act as go-betweens between the other Pure tribes and the Predator Kings encircling the city.
The Tzuumfin of the British Isles are divided. For centuries, Silver Wolf’s tribe have held to strict records of their lineage, mirroring the lines of succession to many hereditary titles. They know every child born who has the potential to become an instrument of their hatred of the Forsaken, every family of wolf-blooded who one day may be called upon to work as agents of the Ivory Claws. They hold some of the best territory in British cities, working through their wolf-blooded agents. But for some of the Ivory Claws, that isn’t enough.
The old guard of Ivory Claws would rather not soil their claws touching the Forsaken. The old guard are engineers of fear, ignorance and paranoia. Their agents in local government and political organizations. With that said, the Ivory Claws are not above venting their otherwise-repressed rage in moments of brutal violence. The Ivory Claws in London are particularly good at manipulating humans ensuring that wolf-blooded family members are in key positions in the metropolitan police, the civil service and even the army. Spirits bent to their will enhance this power, allowing these werewolves to hunt their targets without even being seen should they wish.
There is another side to the Ivory Claws in the United Kingdom, however. With the rise of Oswald Mosely’s British Union of Fascists, the tribe saw that the people would listen to their hatred. From the BUF to the modern British National Party, politicians have found easy outlets for their hatred and xenophobia. A number of the British Ivory Claws have taken these examples to heart. In the latter decades of the 20th century, they shaved their heads and led gangs of skinheads, provoking their followers into assaulting and murdering wolf-blooded and Forsaken alike, using all manner of racial slurs as a cover for their hatred of the Moon-touched. Though the political landscape has shifted away from obvious homophobia and racism, these Ivory Claws continue their overt crusade against the People.
Though there is tension between the two factions, their hatred of the Forsaken and relatively low numbers bonds the tribe together. A skinhead and a wily manipulator may seem like odd bedfellows, but when both are Tzuumfin the difference is purely in outlook.
The Ivory Claws were the architects of the Forsaken’s downfall in London and, other than some eager young werewolves, didn’t participate in the massacre itself. Whilst trying to find and eliminate the surviving Urdaga the two factions are also working towards their ultimate goal, to return the UK and later the world to the state of Pangaea.
Everyone needs something to believe in. The followers of Rabid Wolf know this, but in the British Isles they have to take a different tack. Their American cousins come across with the same fire and zeal as blood-and-thunder preachers from the heart of the Bible Belt. Those methods don’t work in the UK. Too many people are sceptical and religions nowhere near the big deal that it is in the Americas. The Izidakh of the UK have to take a different tack. Despite the general apathy of the British public, indoctrination into Rabid Wolf’s tribe burns away cynicism, replacing it with a fanatical zeal. British Fire-Touched realize that spirits live in every symbol that people invest with emotion, and they gain aid from these spirits by joining their followers. Most of the Izidakh dedicate their lives to a football team, a political movement or an outspoken religious group to please a powerful spirit-ally. These Fire-Touched hunt in combination with their spirit allies and human dupes, coordinating hunts that can last weeks or months. When the Fire-Touched move to finish the hunt, they do so from a position of ultimate power, knowing that their prey is harried and weak. In such a state, the Fire-Touched still show up with every advantage they can bring to bear. An excellent hunter needs nothing but his pack, but an excellent hunter plans for all contingencies. Better to move in with supreme force after exhausting the prey both mentally and physically. Some will turn to their side, when they realize that the Fire-Touched have proved beyond all doubt that Mother Moon is weak compared to the multitudes of the Shadow.
Some of the Fire-Touched of Britain still reflect the organized religion of the island, but they come at it from a different angle. They work through organizations such as the Church of England, infiltrating Sunday schools and looking to catch werewolves while they are still young. Taking lessons from humans in the church, the Fire-Touched tend to be soft-spoken werewolves, fully capable of wearing a sheep’s clothing for as long as it takes. They try not to fight the kinslayers, for that’s a waste of the Fire-Touched’s effort — far better to meet one on neutral ground and talk. Softspoken words pick at the Forsaken’s mind, revealing weaknesses that the Fire-Touched can use, slowly bringing the kinslayer around to the Fire-Touched’s side. Sowing doubts this way takes a lot of time, but the Izidakh who practice it claim that it’s a perfected form of hunting, tracking down the weak spots of their prey’s mind. If they can convert their target, all the better. If not, they know at least some of their target’s weaknesses and can exploit them when the time comes to hunt physically as well as mentally.
It was these Izidakh that turned a Forsaken werewolf and used them to betray the tribes of the moon at the Massacre of the London Wound. Now, like their Ivory Claw Kin, they have turned most of their efforts to returning the world to paradise once more.