Incongruously found several miles from town down a potholed country road, is a sight to strike fear into the hearts of unwary mortals. Behind a weed-choked ditch a 3 story celebration of 1970’s concrete brutalist architecture with its patina of graffiti tags rises above an uneven gravel parking lot, “Cumberland County Amway Headquarters” in block letters flickering unevenly above the entrance, a stark warning for mortals to steer clear.
    However, to those with various forms of spectral vision, “BEER ON TAP” and “ALL YOU CAN EAT WINGS” can be seen in Garou glyphs next to the door, as well as a hastily scrawled “Yes we have type O”.
    Beyond the office block is a narrow path through the undergrowth lined with all manner of botanical terrors, intended to keep out the curious, the unwary, and those of a spiritual nature.. Unpalatable to the pack patron spirits guarding the pack house and spirit lodge beyond.
    Just inside the office block entry, down a short, dimly lit hallway, is a warmly lit, oak-panel lined taproom to do any old world pub proud, with overstuffed couches, oak and ebony tables, and a state of the art row of pacinko and trivia machines lining the back wall. Did we forget to mention the eternal lunch buffet steaming away along the left wall? Come in, put your feet up, and don’t mind the cook. He’s not really Anubis, we swear. He does know the guy, though, so wipe your damn boots.
The claustrophobic path into the woods opens onto a warm clearing of lush green grass centered around a spectral bonfire. A large 3 story farmhouse lies to the right near the edge of the clearing, and a sweat lodge to the left. At the far end of the clearing lies a glass-fronted enclosed poolhouse with a modest apartment above it. This is the sacred land of the local Garou pack who owns the property. Those who have passed beyond death while remaining corporeal (the undead) cannot traverse the path to this place, it is only for the living, and the honored dead.