Piano-Chucker pulls your group off to the side for a moment...

"Pssstt! Hey, come here." Whispers Piano-Chucker to your group from around the corner, standing outside of the Union St. warehouse. As you step away from speaking with Marge, an older, slightly less-stable woman who sleeps in the warehouse on the ground floor, you see Piano-Chucker smoking a cigarette. Standing a good head taller than even Jordan Westwood, Piano-Chucker is a monstrously huge man. His entire arm is covered in tatoos of howling wolves, bright moons, and all manner of flower & nature designs. He has no hair, not even eyebrows, which gives him a slightly disturbing look.

"Hey guys. I know Grandfather Beasly is being a bit hush-hush an' all when it comes to teaching you guys about who the Garou are and what we do. It's a real messed up situation, especially when it comes to us. You see, we Bone Gnawers get the shit-end stick of every deal. We're everyone's scapegoat, punching bag, and stress outlet. Most of the other tribes, specially you Silver Fangs, don't realize that Gaia is even in the cities. Even in the slums, life still goes on. If it weren't for us, the bad guys would have crept in a long time ago. You see all those people out there?" Piano-Chucker motions towards the 30 or so homelsss people scattered about the Union St. warehouse property. "Remember that Ricky Mills you were talking about? Everyone of those people out there is a prime candidate for being something like him. Livin' on the streets is rough. Real rough. They face the kind of shit on a daily basis that you couldn't even handle as a Garou. Most of the time, it breaks people. Turns 'em crazy, rots their soul away, and they become easy pickins for Bane spirits. But us Gnawers, we show them a different way. We teach them to see the beauty in all things, whether it's a partially eaten, maggot-free O'Tolley's burger still wrapped up, or a dandelion growing in an alleyway. We teach them to never lose hope, no matter how bleak things get. As long as they have hope, it keeps the banes away, and keeps 'em falling to the Wyrm...the BIG bad guy. Every bum that we keep smiling is one less fomori trying to go out and murder people. I hope you guys remember that after you leave here. Your tribes are going to tell you that we've abandoned our duties, that we've chosen to fail Gaia. Hopefully when you hear that propaganda shit, you'll remember our little conversation. Probably not, but I figure I at least gotta' try. Oh, and Police Officer Becker, stop throwing your cig butts on the ground, you fucking asshole. This is my home your littering." He says, finishing his cigarette and tossing it into a barrel fire and walks off, hands in his pockets.