1. Organizations

Drinkers of the Well

Simnah Hestunadar

Danu-Ur, Creator Wolf, walks the world once more. Perhaps she never left it. Perhaps she never existed before now at all. The reality of her presence is itself dream-like, something to make one question one’s own perceptions of what is and what is not. In her wake gather the Simnah Hestunadar, her Drinkers of the Well — a newborn tribe of Uratha, an impossibility rendered a truth.

Some say the Drinkers of the Well formed these past few years, forged from nothing, from Ghost Wolves, in the fiery crucible of Iraq. Certainly, the new tribe seems to have the greatest concentration of its numbers in the Middle East—but already, its reach extends far beyond that region. New Drinkers emerge across the world, in places where no Iraq-initiated Simnah has yet walked. In some places, they seem to have been there already, before Danu-Ur’s supposed renewal. At least one centuries-old Lodge was attuned to her all along, suddenly swept up into the new-forged tribe.

Who are these Drinkers of the Well? They are not a rag-rag collection of Ghost Wolves, no; they are as devoted and dedicated as the adherents of any other tribe, albeit mostly still finding their feet in their nascent great cult. The Drinkers believe their goddess to be one of renewal and inspiration, of creativity and thought. They are the wolves who howl at the moon and stir sensation in the minds of those who hear. They are the new growth after fire has burned all to ash; they are the turning of the seasons that grinds dead flesh to mulch and from it brings fresh and fertile possibility. They are something dreamlike, something intangible—beasts of madness, wolves of the mind’s darkest and brightest recesses, representatives of the creative part of the world in balance to Fenris-Ur’s symbolic destruction.

Their name spurs other Uratha to ask from what well it is they drink, and what meaning this conveys. The Drinkers say thus: They drink from the well of creation, from Danu-Ur’s fountain of possibility, from the ocean of the mind, and thus are filled with that contemplative, immaterial power. The world is broken. Old cycles creak and crumble. Flaws cannot be fixed through simple destruction—the sundered paths of old must be replaced with new ways, ways that learn from what came before and make something altogether better. To drink from the well is to take potential into oneself, and become a vessel to turn that potentiality into a greater reality.

The Drinkers are, of course, Uratha. The Wolf Must Hunt. The Drinkers look upon the world and see a ruin, a wreck, a scrapheap that might yet be salvaged and forged anew. Their sacred prey, then, relates to how they might achieve that, and what obstacles to it stand in their way—and it is here that perhaps the most striking feature of the Drinkers of the Well should be addressed.

The Drinkers of the Well are neither Forsaken nor Pure—or rather, they contain both within their ranks. This surely cannot last, but the tribe of the Drinkers is still not set, still not a hardened scar in reality, and so both factions may yet shape its future. As a symbol of potential, the Drinkers currently contain all such possibilities, and while there is a great deal of friction within its ranks between the Anshega and the Urdaga who have pledged allegiance, their patron obliges them to work together to some extent. This is complicated all the more by the relationship between Destroyer, Creator, and Rabid—a tangled mess that leaves both Forsaken and Pure suspicious of the new tribe, but also eager to cultivate alliance with it.

As the rival factions seek to draw Creator Wolf to either the Forsaken or the Pure, the nature of the tribe’s spiritual link adapts itself to her petitioners. As a result, the sacred prey of the Drinkers of the Well also remains in flux, unfixed, more than one thing at once. The tribe hunts those who would warp or break the world, who would hold it in stasis or change it without understanding. So too does it hunt the idigam; or, rather, it holds the idigam as the most dangerous and worthy prey, inasmuch as the Tribe members understand the nature of these ever-changing entities. The Drinkers do not lie to themselves that they can simply hunt the idigam like any other prey. They know the power and rarity of these horrors. Still, in the Moon-Banished and Earth-Bound they see the greatest of lessons—how change, unfettered, is simply madness, and how stasis, once bound into Coalesced form, is its own kind of trap.

A few of the Drinkers, those who were once Ghost Wolves and who believe that an unaligned path is the best way forward, push for the tribe to remain as neither Forsaken nor Pure—a cult apart, a faction unto itself. They don’t want the Drinkers to be Ghost Wolves, but think that the feuding werewolves that have dominated Uratha life for so many millennia have proven themselves incapable of fixing the world or finding a solution to the problems that have plagued them since the Sundering. It must be a new tribe, a new People, who bring a fresh approach unfettered by the grudges and old thinking of the past. It must be the Drinkers of the Well, and they must drink their fill of the font of inspiration and renewal and be unafraid to embrace whatever answers they find beyond the boundaries of the mind and sanity.


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