Many Moons Ago...

A new pack formed. A group of low-classed wolves had come together to create what they deemed to be a perfectly imperfect pack.
Many of the founders were different in their own flawed image. The one they called their leader - a wolf named Stoat - brought these wolves together so they may be equal.

From there their family grew,

Their own Legion of Misfits.

However, one bitter night when the Moon was waxing to bring forth a new cycle, tragedy struck. Stoat had fallen ill with some kind of sickness. Not even their Herbalist could seem to figure out what was going on.
Desperate, they tried to find some sort of remedy to at least slow the pain. The symptoms were beyond comprehension. His paws had shifted into a groutesque abomination that somewhat resembled hooves, and he now had strange pertrusions branching their way out of his head, shoulders and back. It was a grusome sight to behold.
Unfortunately, this "disease" had spread to some of the pack-member's litters. Their offspring were of odd, unnatural colourings. Some even had three eyes!
This curse, whatever it was, seemed to have no viable source of reason, instead either popping up out of thin air, or simply being something the pack members were born with.

Now they really are outcasts.