The blood of the highlands runs strong in the hills and valleys of Cape Breton. Conal MacNeil, from the line of the Barra MacNeils, is tall and gangly, with brownish-red hair and a bushy goatee. He always looks like he was just in a fight, always sporting various bruises and cuts. His fiddle is almost as battered as he is, but he still manages to coax a decent sound from it. He can play the harmonica and accordion too, all well enough to generate some income busking in subway stations, though not well enough to make a living. His family has lived on Cape Breton Island for six generations, arriving from Scotland on the good ship Hector in 1773. (The Hector was closer to a wreck, but it got them across the ocean.) During theThe Highland clearances displaced many upheavals that sent highlandersGarou, driving them to the new world. Conal's branch of the MacNeil's was one such clan, the original few concealed in the midst of tte other wretches in the bowels of the ship. Unlike many, Conal's ancestors eschewed the burgeoning coal mines of Cape Breton, feeling the mining, and the subsequent burning, as an affront to mother Gaia. They spent some time trying to stop it, but their numbers were just too small. They fished, hunted, and trapped across the worldhighlands, always giving thanks and the proper sacrifices to the Mother. In time, the clan moved from their Fiall allegiances to Children of Gaia. Unlike many Garou clans, they had good relations with their human neighbours, at least in waves, Garou blood mixed in with the diaspora communities, often latent until a genetic mixture or an outside stimulus brought it to the fore.the deep rural areas. Like many youth on Cape Breton, Conal spent much of his time partying and getting into trouble. He was often the fiddler at kitchen parties, both for his friends, and for older folks. When he wasn’t partying, he spent his time driving driving around the island, stopping at the causeway and looking south to the world beyond. He never crossed it, though. Like many of His first Change came when he was just 14, but his generation,Clan elders had seen in coming, and were able to sequester him with a justifiably-terrified sheep. His Rage sated, the elders were able to help him gain control over his form. When he was forced to leave18, a Wyrm cult settled into Sydney, the largest city on the island, drawn by the toxic effluent in the Sydney River and the pollution from the remaining steel mills. The air of desperation from its inhabitants was an additional welcome perfume. The fight to rid the Island of the Wyrm Cult devastated most of the local Garou, who failed to work together effectively, and failed to take advantage of potential allies in local human environmentalists and anarchists. While the Wyrm was defeated, at least temporarily, in the course of the fight Conal caught a glimpse of Umbral connections between the Wyrm growing under Sydney harbour and something huge and vile south of the border, With the Wyrm cult destroyed or dispersed, Conal went to waht was left of his family home in search of workpack and told them of the vision. Armed with letters of introduction for both Children of Gaia and Fianna, only the Children would listen to him, taking him in. The last coal mines closed in 2001, leaving little work forFianna spurned him, as a memeber of a so-called ‘unskilled’ labour. Alberta and the oil patch called, looking for bodies to feed the relentless expansion of heavy oil extraction and the tar sands. It was in northern Alberta, working as a driver and labourer in the vast strip mines of the oil sands, that Conal felt the first stirrings of the beast within. The utter wrongness of the mining, the pollution, and the death of animals and their habitats attracted Umbral terrors, and in his dreams he experienced life as a wolf, attacking terrors in the night. The first time Conal changed, he was terrified. He had no real knowledge of the Garou, just what he had gleaned from werewolves coming from lurid books and movies. He was only barely in control of his shape, and for much of the next two hours, he was little more than a passenger in his body, watching as the loosed garou went on the hunt. Eight people died that night, oil company managers, engineers, and an executive. His actions brought him to the attention of the Black Spiral Dancers, and the next day he fled, crossing into the United States illegally along the Alberta-Montana border, and making his way to New York, where he hoped to lose himself. In the course of his travels across the United States, he came to terms with Garou heritage, though he still knows little about it. He met people along the way that recognized him for what he was, and gave him aid and filled in some of the blanks. Most of those who gave him succor were Kin, rather than Garou. The few run-ins he had with actual Garou tended to go badly. He had little knowledge of the social conventions of Garou society, and missed the cues that would have told him to back down, to show proper respect. He did learn some lessons, but he resented it, and the Garou, especially the purebloods, who lorded their ancestry over him'rebellious' pack.