Born in the highlands of Scotland in 1970, Alexander MacBride was the child of Andrew and Alison MacBride. Although neither of his parent's was a Garou, both carried the blood of great heroes of the past.

Young Alexander was a rambunctious child, often getting himself into trouble. His mother lost count of the number of cookie jars that the boy had broken. When he reached adolescence things went from bad to worse. Although he'd lost his talent of breaking things no matter how his mother tried to preserve them, he'd taken to listening to British punk music. Convinced that the music would break as many things as he'd been able to do on his own; Alison had no luck in getting her son to turn down the volume.

When puberty set in, her son became even more difficult to control. Alexander's father was of little help, as he worked long days at a coal mine so that his wife could look after Alexander, and his baby brother, Angus. Alexander's charm seemed to know no bounds, and he was easily the most popular and least disciplined boy in his grade. During his sixteenth year, Alexander spent more time in the beds of others than in his own; he lost count of how many women he'd been with once he'd surpassed fifty.

Though his grades were still low, when he was eighteen, Alexander was the star of the school's rugby team. He led his team to victory against all comers. One night, after a particularly close game, as Alexander left the victory celebration with a woman on each arm, some sore losers from the team he'd crushed attacked him before he could get to the car.

Enraged, his vision clouded over and he lost himself in his anger. The police found the bodies of the sore losers the next morning. Although it happened in downtown Aberdeen, it was ruled an animal mauling. The police began a search for the beast responsible, but came up empty handed; as experts argued over whether the animal in question was a wolf or a bear. The girls Alexander has been with, escaped whatever beast had killed the other lads, but the two never seemed to look at Alexander the same again, and refused to speak to him in or out of class after that.

Confused, and suddenly feeling a rage seething beneath the surface of his mind. Alexander chose to spend his summer backpacking into the highlands of his birth; he sought time to think in the tranquility of nature. In the wilds he felt calmness, like nothing he'd ever known before.

One night as the half moon shown above, he awoke from a dream. He'd dreamt of wolves. He'd been running with them, hunting deer, thinning the herd. He shifted in his bedroll, and caught an odd smell on the wind. Not quite man; not quite wolf. He attempted to unzip the bedroll to investigate, but found that he lacked fingers. Twisting about, Alexander discovered that he was covered in rich black fur, fur that blended into the night that surrounded him.

Pulling himself free of his bedroll on all fours, he discovered himself naked, with paws in place of hands and feet. He gasped in surprise, but only a yip escaped his jaw. Feeling with his tongue he found razor sharp incisors now filled his much longer mouth.

Certain that still he dreamed, he thought to seek out some pool of water and examine his own reflection, but then he again caught the scent on the wind. Alexander turned his nose up, and inhaled deeply of the aroma, trying to analyze it.

A howl emerged from around his lonely campsite, coming from three throats at once. Alexander, standing near his campfire, twisted trying to face each of the three unseen wolves. He heard movement in the darkness, and saw one of the howlers shift position, drawing closer to him. Though he dared not turn to see, he could hear the two that approached from his rear flanks.

The thing before him stepped into the clearing in which he camped, and the half-moonlight shown upon it. Alexander was at once taken aback and unsurprised by the thing that faced him. Part man, part wolf, it was definitely this that he had smelled upon the wind.

It looked down upon him, a look of anger upon its face. It gave forth a strange string of sounds, like a cross between words, growls, and yips. Alexander merely cocked his head to the side and examined the beast, feeling safe in the knowledge that surely he was still asleep.

The beast before him repeated the sounds, but still they made no sense to Alexander. Turning his head, Alexander glanced at the other two who entered his campsite; one was a simple wolf with silvery fur, the other was a monstrous wolf nearly the size of a horse.

The wolf-man again growled and yipped, and Alexander returned his attention to it. He shook his head slowly from side to side, hoping to indicate that he had no idea what it was trying to say.

The look of anger upon the creature's features had been replaced with one of exasperation. Sighing, its weight and fur seemed to melt away. Emerging from the beast was the most beautiful woman Alexander had ever seen.

Still naked, she stepped forward and knelt before him. "Is this better? Can you understand me now?"

Transfixed by her beauty, Alexander nodded dumbly.

"Who are you Shadow Lord? Why have you intruded yourself upon our sept's bawn?"

Confused again, Alexander attempted to tell her that he had no idea what she was talking about, but found only yips coming from his throat.

The woman sighed, and allowed her face to collapse into her hand as she shook her head from side to side. Addressing the others who had accompanied her she sat down on the ground before Alexander, "He's either very good at being deceitful, or we've got a newly changed cub on our hands."

A man and a woman walked around from behind Alexander and stood at the sides of the naked woman before him. The new woman was also naked, though not so lovely as the first. The man, Alexander was grateful, wore a light shirt and deer-skin pants.

Alexander cocked his head from side to side, examining each in turn, before allowing his eyes to settle again upon the woman before him, or more precisely, her ample and currently uninhibited bosom.

The blond man grinned and spoke, "Well at least he has good taste."

The pack of three led Alexander back to the Sept of Standing Stones. At their ancient caern, built within a circle of standing stones nearly as grand as Stonehenge, yet unknown to the mortal world, Alexander learned of what he was.

Alexander discovered that he had a rare gift for flowing between forms at will. He learned of his duties to Gaia and to his people as a Philodox. In time Alexander earned the name Pillar of Thunder, in honor of his tribal and personal totem.

Pillar of Thunder served his sept with distinction for over ten years. He forwent attending university, a decision which saddened his parents, but in the end they understood that it wasn't what he wanted to do with his life. Although he couldn't tell them the truth of his life, Alexander tried his best to stay in touch with them, and visit his brother on holidays.

On June 1, 2000, Pillar of Thunder awoke from a dream. He'd scene a vision of great evil descending upon America, he knew that the Wyrm would soon devour that land, and it was his destiny to try and stop it. Quietly he packed his things, and said his goodbyes to no one.

Pillar of Thunder took a flight from Edinburgh to London, and then from London to New York City. Once he'd reached the New World, Pillar of Thunder set about learning the ways no his new land.

The first thing he discovered was that although his thick Scottish accent allowed him to pick up women easily, it made it nearly impossible for him to blend into the throngs of people. It pained him to do it, but Alexander MacBride learned to abandon the speech of his heritage so that he could better learn the ways of the strange new land, a land with which he knew his destiny would be forever intertwined.