Logfile from GarouMU.
Center of the Caern
This is the central point of the 30-meter-wide clearing. The ground is a mixture of dark, rich, muddy soil mixed with clay, though there is an occasional patch of grass. At the center rests a large white boulder, immovable even by the strongest crinos. The boulder is shot through with streaks of quartz that produces scintillating colors when light strikes it just right. It is, for lack of a wholly adequate word, beautiful.
Around you, twenty yards in every direction, stretches the caern. To the southeast, a waterfall plummets over the edge of the chasm into a small pool in the caern; nearby, to the southwest, steam comes from cracks in the ground, perhaps some of the same water. Northwest, a rocky spar juts out of the ground at a low angle, showing a sloping but smooth top. The chasm walls narrow a bit to the northeast, causing some of the mist to swirl in that area.
Contents:
[Seeker, Alicia (Guards-Flame), Eamon (Ever-Grinning), Jamethon (Fights-For-Hope), Aubrey (Sheeaghan), Dwight (Stands-in-rain), Brom (Forath-Ripper), Kevin (Power-Up), Michael (Kills-Wisely), Kenneth (Dagger's-Edge), Clemency (Fire-Burns), Andy (Recalls-Scars), Tamara (Spider-Eyes), Horace (Untangler), Jacinta (Pierces-Ice)]
Obvious exits:
Rock Slab  Windy Spot  WaterFall  Steam Vents  

From the rock outcropping, As the congratulations and rejoicing following the new Silver Fang's promotion to cliath die away, Fire-Burns-Forever gives the cub one last celebratory (and very firm) whack on the back, before she strides forward to the rock protrusion that serves as stage-cum-pulpit. From this vantage point she surveys the moot, watching cubs ushered away, and those who cannot or will not remain for the revel depart. In her war-form, white fur gleaming, she is so obviously a Silver Fang that the rawest cub could hardly mistake her for anything else. ~GAROU OF THIS SEPT!~ she suddenly roars in a voice that echoes throughout the trees, before moderating her tones just a little to ones which still carry throughout the area but are not quite so strident. ~The business of our moot is done. Our housekeeping is taken care of, our announcements made. We can now turn our attentions to the purpose for which each one of us was born. The purpose for which garou were made. The purpose without which we would have no place on Gaia's surface. The purpose,~ she concludes, crescendo, ~of FIGHTING THE WYRM WHEREVER IT DWELLS OR BREEDS!~ With those words, she springs down from her high place on the rock, landing in the midst of the garou below.

The Requiem pack plus one Shadow Lord Ahroun waits impatiently with rage driven eyes, eager to taste the blood of their foe. Forath-Ripper paces back and forth, claws clicking together as he quietly snarls, nostrils flaring. Kills-Wisely is all business, staring ahead at the Wyrmfoe, waiting for the call to action, fur puffed up in all directions.

Dagger's-Edge shifts his gaze upon the Wyrmfoe, his lupine shape traveling upwards to that of hispo. He adds an all too feral roar at the end of the Wyrmfoe's call to battle.

Sheeaghan stands by herself tonight, although her ears are attentively pressed forward as she shifts down into lupus. She shakes out her coat as she stands at attention. A few steps are take back as Fire-Burns joins the Garou below.

Spider-Eyes runs her fearsome claws across a large rock, then lifts her muzzle toward the sky and lends voice to a war-howl.

Power-Up is plainly excited at the prospect of a forthcoming fight. The ragabash is practically bouncing up and down on his viciously-clawed feet, leaving little marks in the ground where he jiggles around as he listens to the Silver Fang, standing by his packmates.

Seeker says, ~Anyone wishing to stay behind with the guardians to protect the bawn and caern s certainly welcome to do so.~

From the rock outcropping, Fire-Burns stumbles just a little as she lands, and for an instant her First Tribe poise wavers, but she regains it in a second, and capers over to the nearest garou -- her tribe's erstwhile cub, Andy. ~Come, Recalls-The-Scars! You have much to revel in! Show the others how much you deserve your new-found adulthood!~ Then she darts to another garou, namely Horace. ~Come, Untangler! We have a spirit of the Wyrm to fight tonight? Do you not feel your claws, your teeth, itching to sink themselves into it! Follow me!~ She's panting wildly, grinning ferociously, and her whole air is that of one undergoing a quasi-religious experience.

Guards-Flame lets out a loud howl to the Wyrm Foe, eyes gleaming over brightly in excitement. ~Feel the pulse of the mother in our veins my brothers and sisters, for tonight we shall rage and dance in our glory! Tonight the Wyrm falls!~

Untangler sits in the clay, as much a part of the small group of himself and Jacinta as he is part of the other Revellers, until Fire-Burns calls out his name. After a second's uncertainty his lupus twists up into Hispo and he answers, quite simply and plainly, ~Yes!~ and tongue lolling out over vicious teeth he pads off towards the others.

From the rock outcropping, Fire-Burns's path takes her next to the pack of Requiem as it stands there in its potent grouping. It's to Brom that she speaks, but her words address them all. ~Forath-Ripper! You who would be Master of the Challenge! Show your septmates your worth to hold sept rank by ripping apart tonight's enemy! Bring your pack whose name is known through all the Hidden Walk as fearsome warriors and noble garou! Come one, come all, come fight!~ And from there, she moves onto the lone metis. ~Eyes-of-the-Spider!~ she greets Tamara. ~Your eyes will see a great evil shortly. I know you will run with me with all the great speed you possess, and destroy it utterly as it merits!~

Roaring out in pride, Forath-Ripper raises his war hammer high above his head, howling back to the Wyrm Foe. ~No claws will be sharper than mine tonight! I will tear out the heart of the enemy and crush it in my claws!~

Eamon blinks and looks around at all the frothing garou. "Jesus. Are you guys all hopped up on crank or something?"

Stands-in-rain is breathing hard already. He feels the moon on him, big as Atlas, and the smell of Garou is jammed in his head. There's no room otherwise. He notices abruptly that the Get is addressed, and that the Fang speaks to him; his head jerks that way, and he studies Forath-Ripper intently.

Spider-Eyes's lips pulls back to reveal vicious teeth and lifts her sharpened claws to the sky. ~The Wyrm shall fall before us tonight!~

Guards-Flame gives her pack mate a push and roars out once more. ~Come Ever Grinning, who's smile never falters! Feel the mother's blessing and act upon it! Tonight is not a night for laughter, but for drowning the enemy in its own blood!~

Dagger's-Edge growls, eyeing Brom before howling out once more. ~The moon's not getting any fatter!~

Eamon says "Yeah, yeah, whatever. Let's stop talking about it and go do it already!"

From the rock outcropping, Fire-Burns keeps running between garou as though possessed herself by a spirit. Her dodging path brings her up to another Silent Strider, namely Seeker. Is there a second's pause before she addresses him? Perhaps. ~Seeker! Warder of this sacred place!~ she addresses him. ~Will you too fight with us tonight? If your duties forbid, there is no shame. But if you will come, there is glory and fellowship and the joy of vanquishing the Wyrm. We fight! We fight for Gaia!~ And without waiting for an answer from Seeker, she dives straight onto her next target. ~Guards-Flame!~ she calls out joyfully to the bearer of that deedname. ~Well I know that you will come with us, and much will I revel in fighting beside one of your experience and skill!~

~Just try and keep up kids!~ Guards-The-Flame bellows back to the Silver Fang joyously as she puffs out her fur once more, sending out another loud howl to the sky as the adrenaline begins to pump.

Seeker says, ~I would gladly join you, but my place is here. If the fight threatens the bawn, I will be there.~

Sheeaghan rocks her weight, looking at others around her. Her ears rotate like radars to the calls around her, the Theurge remaining calm, although her whole form tenses as she narrows her eyes. The Fianna appears somewhat amused by all of this, her tongue hanging from her maw. This is so much better than Wildfire ever did, she muses to whomever standing next to her.

From the rock outcropping, Next on Fire-Burns-Forever's hit list is Eamon. She gives no direct sign of having heard his comments, but perhaps she has, for all she says to him is ~Come on! Time to kill!~ and rushes to her last port of call, Sheeaghan. ~For nine long months have you kept yourself from the fight for the best of reasons~, she addresses the theurge. ~Now you are prevented no more. Vent the frustration of nine months upon the enemy with us tonight!~ Seeing nobody whom she's not now urged to join her, she races back to the rock at the caern's heart, stopping there to draw her claws across the solid surface with a scratching sound, and turns to face the revellers again. ~TO THE REALM!~ she bids them. ~JOIN ME, GAROU! WE FIGHT! WE KILL FOR GAIA!~

From the rock outcropping, Digging his claws into the ground, Kills-Wisely snarls visciously in his throat and begins to rake his talons over the hard stone he finds, causing them to glitter bright.

The ex-cub Silver Fang finally shows signs of life. Recalls-The-Scars draws a slow breath and allows a near smile to draw across his crinos muzzle, then rolling his shoulders and flexing clawed fingers as loosening up for the coming fight.

The landscape seems to be an overlay of two worlds at once for a moment, then snaps into the Umbra.

Umbra: Center of the Caern
A subtly spine-vibrating thrum of power issues once again from the once-dead caern, pricking hairs and fur. Slowly but surely, the rejuvinating actions of the Garou have slowly been transforming the recently spiritually dead caern back into something befitting a caern. The caern is once again alive with a variety of spirits, though spirits of war seem a rarity now, and Wendigo spirits are never seen. The caern, visually, falls just short of the wildest rural utopia imaginable. Only hints of the previous pollution remain--slightly less than green grass, young sapling trees where there ought to be mighty oaks and pines--and these are things that, with time and care, should eventually replace what was lost.
The air crackles with tingles of spiritual potency, though it's obvious to Garou who'd witnessed the caern earlier that the caern just isn't quite as powerful and potent as it was before the BSD invasion.
Contents:
[All from before, sans Jamethon, Seeker and Jacinta]
Obvious exits:
South  North  West  

First through the Gauntlet is Kenneth, followed quickly by Andy. They both arrive long before the Wyrm Foe, who seems almost to be stuck but manages to wriggle her way through. Brom also is slow, though Aubrey, Alicia, Eamon, Kevin and Tamara manage without too much trouble. But as the rest gather, it soon becomes clear that two of their number have not made the reach completely. Horace and Dwight both remain stuck, caught between realms.

Dagger's-Edge shakes out his fur, gazing around the caern's shadow intently before turning to record his packmates. When he does notice that the other Shadow Lord has not come through in a noticeably concerning amount of time, the philodox growls louder than ever. ~I'm going back,~ the hispo'ed halfmoon tells his packalpha, and steels himself.

~Dig him out. Requiem form up on me. We don't do anything stupid tonight. Back to back formations, ground to sky.~ Forath-Ripper instructs. ~Just like we have practiced. No bitching Power-Up, you're the weakest in the shadow, you stick with Stands In the Rain. Dagger's Edge, Kills Wisely and I will take the point.~ He paces quickly between his pack mates, rumbling in his throat.

Untangler is stuck, in both words at once but firmly rooted in neither. His paws move slowly, uselessly, against the bright Umbral clay, but they can find no traction. There's a deep disquiet in the young wolf's posture, and he whimpers softly, vaguely, at no one in particular.

Power-Up's crinos face crinkles for a moment as though to suggest that bitching was the furthest thing possible from his mind. He turns to obey his alpha's order and finds he can't. ~He is not here. He has not come through.~

Ever-Grinning says, ~That's weird. We should have no problem getting through the Gauntlet here.~

Guards-Flame flicks her ears upwards and starts to glow like a lune as she calls upon the gift of Gaia's sister. Eyes glowing, she howls out to the others. ~Where is Untangler and Stands in the Rain?!~ She bellows, roaming up towards the Wyrm Foe. ~No one should be stuck in the Caern's Umbra.~

Sheeaghan wrinkles her nose as she turns, finding that two of the members are stuck between. The Theurge narrows her eyes and begins to look around her while the others assist at getting the others out as quickly as possible. A determind but worried expression is painted across her pale colored muzzle. This is odd, the Theurge rumbles lowly, sounding much like a mutter.

Fire-Burns, once she's dragged herself between the worlds, still panting with high emotion, starts to gather up garou. The other Silver Fang, Recalls-Scars, is nearby her, and she finds herself next to Ever-Grinning and Guards-Flame also. ~With me!~ she invites them. ~Be my packmates tonight!~ And she casts her gaze round about, looking round the umbra keenly, and then peering more intently over to what, in the realm, would be the east.

Ever-Grinning turns to Fire-Burns. ~Want me to see if I can find them with my gift?~

Dagger's-Edge slips back to the proverbial pool, stepping sideways on cue. His huge hispo teeth clamp firmly on Stands-in-rain's left arm, and the philodox stubbornly pulls the ahroun 'towards' the spirit side. Only when they are both through does he let go, licking at his muzzle.

~Happy to join with you tonight Wyrm Foe, but for the moment we have Sept mates to help!~ With that, Guards-The-Flame bounds towards the whimpering sound of Untangler to 'untangle' him, shifting once more through the Umbra so that her teeth can clamp upon the webbing and wrench him through.

Untangler isn't as thankful, as he's wrenched beyond the Gauntlet; he exits in a vague funk, like the Caern's gone suddenly unfamiliar. He stares at the ground, bristle-furred and slick-eared, and begins begins slowly slipping to the edges of the group.

Sheeaghan perks her ears, narrowing her eyes. The wolf is looking impatient as she looks towards the east. Eyes strain as she looks afar. Her attention isn't much on the others behind her as it is directly in front of her muzzle. The wolf shivers and then finally looks back at the group. I see something!

Stands-in-rain doesn't take too kind to somebody's teeth in his arm, but there's Dagger's-Edge, pulling him into shadow. He takes a second to get his bearings, ears laid back, annoyed, but at least the freakish moment of paralysis has passed. His thanks are sincere, but gruff, with impatience and a twinge of rage. Getting himself stuck like some milk-wet whelp.

Spider-Eyes's ears flatten and those strange eyes quint, as she peers in the direction that Sheeaghan indicates.

Guards-Flame gives Untangler a bump with the head, then makes her way back to her proto pack for tonight, rumbling quietly in her throat. As Sheeaghan points something out, she turns her eyes towards its direction.

As the Garou gather together, regrouping, and forming into cohorts, those following the gaze of the Theurge and WyrmFoe will see what they do. A large form moves off to the east. It is far enough off that details cannot yet be made out, but the movement is large, exaggerated, and sounds like ice breaking and the crash of waves against sand can barely be heard.

Ever-Grinning peers into the woods towards the sound and the form. He turns to the Wyrmfoe. ~Want me to check it out?~

Spider-Eyes snorts softly, ears laying flat against her skull. She opens her mouth to, then closes it again as Ever-Grinning speaks up.

~Go, scout,~ responds Fire-Burns-Forever to the ragabash fostern's offer. ~Take care.~

~Do not engage, Ever-Grinning. You fucking nut job.~ Guards-The-Flame says with a growl to the Fianna. ~Keep me updated in our link~

Ever-Grinning nods and fades from view, his body becoming a vague blur. He moves off in the direction the noise is coming from as quickly and quietly as he can.

Stands-in-rain is licking his teeth, his muzzle a grimace, with the black lips peeled back. Sounds big. He hates big. A low growl buzzes out of him, deep in his chest.

Untangler continues to remain slightly away from the group, and then like a terrified chameleon his coat begins to take on the fresh-fired clay colour of the Caern's ground, his form bleeds into it. He looks between the group and whatever it is everybody else is looking at, with slow, uncertain sweeps.

While Eamon leaves the group for his scouting run, the rest can see the large form, still, but it seems to be somewhat smaller, now. Or maybe it's just standing differently.

Kills-Wisely snarls loudly in his throat as he stays close to Forath-Ripper's side, glancing over at him with impatience. He looks tense, ready to spring.

Power-Up maintains his position alongside Stands-In-Rain, and growls along with him like a smaller, less black, and a little higher-pitched photocopy of the older garou.

A look of worry has firmly plastered itself across the Fianna Theurge's muzzle as her tribemate takes off. She rocks from side to side quietly as her eyes and ears remain fully attentive to her surroundings. The crescent moon slips quietly behind the impatient full-moons, leaving their rage to boil as the Theurge keeps her own hidden underneath her skin.

Recalls-Scars remains just as quietly as before beside Fire-Burns-Forever, looking out towards the eastern horizon with near sickening patience. Waiting.

Guards-Flame chuffs to the Wyrm Foe and flattens her ears back. ~Ever Grinning has described to me a large two legged spirit with horns. It looks like it has seen its share of fights.~ Her eyes fur flares up, then takes in a deep breath of the air, reaching out with her sixth sense.

Fire-Burns bristles, white fur rising to make her already burly war-form seem bigger yet. ~Then let us join our scout~, she calls out, ~and show it one fight more -- its last!~

~I do not sense the Wyrm's touch, at least from this distance.~ Guards-The-Flame says with a bit of concern in her tone as she starts off in the direction of her pack mate. ~Ever Grinning wishes to know if we want him to lead it to us? He is a quick runner.~

~Big fucking spirit that wants to fight? We'll show him a fight! Let him meet Requiem's claws!~ Forath-Ripper bellows to the Silver Fang.

Spider-Eyes lifts up a clawed hand. ~Can he scent the Wyrm on this spirit? I can Scent for the Wyrm and I can run faster then all of you. If I were to run up to it, I do not think that it could catch me.~

Sheeaghan looks to Spider-Eyes and dips her head low, while looking in the direction of the full moons. She flattens her ears for a brief moment before erecting once again. I think that is a good idea, she voices towards the others.

Fire-Burns seems impatient to be after the enemy, but evidently sees (perhaps unwillingly) the sense in the metis's suggestion. ~Run then~, she says to Spider-Eyes, with an exasperated blink at Forath-Ripper to follow up. ~And while you run, the rest of us, prepare your ranks for battle!~

~Ever Grinning is returning to us.~ Guards-The-Flame once more says to the Wyrm Foe as she waits impatiently, lifting up on her haunches to peer into the distance.

Without any further encouragement, Spider-Eyes runs toward the spirit. Silent Strider gift lending her unnatural speed.

Forath-Ripper glances over to his pack and lets out a loud rumble. ~We are dealing with a two legged Skripi. Power-Up, you provide the distraction, Stands in the Rain and Kills Wisely, follow up and bring down hell upon its head. Dagger's Edge and I will provide support. We move as one, no stragglers, no singling out. Make it quick and hard.~

Kills-Wisely confirms the Alpha's orders with a furious growl in his throat and once more faces off as he watches the Strider run. His upper lip curls with a snarl.

Ever-Grinning reappears with his temporary pack a few minutes later, shifting back to the warform.

Fire-Burns looks impatiently to the Fianna. ~Tell!~

Ever-Grinning blinks at Fire-Burns, then at Guards-Flame. ~Didn't you tell them?~
Guards-Flame chuffs an affirmitive. ~I did tell them, we sent the Strider after it because she can sense the Wyrm and run faster than the wind.~

~Until we know it is of the Wyrm,~ Fire-Burns-Forever confirms, ~we should not assume.~ She stares in the direction of the mysterious spirit, quite plainly desperate for the return of Tamara with confirmation that it is indeed a fitting enemy.

Moments after Spider-Eyes departs, the bulky spirit in the distance seems to be growing larger. At first it's not clear, but shortly, it becomes obvious that it is not necessarily growing, but it is moving very quickly in the direction of the Garou.

When Spider-Eyes streaks off towards the spirit Untangler runs, too, with a new determination, as if he interpreted her statement as to her speed as a challenge, and he's taking her up. It doesn't take more than a couple seconds, with her putting near double distance on him, before, puzzled and distraught, his paws slow and he comes wheeling back towards the other Garou.

Ever-Grinning's eyes widen. ~Oh, shit, here it comes!~

~Its about fucking time! Come Skripi! Meet the furious rage of Requiem and find death at our claws!~ Forath-Ripper howls out loudly as his chest swells, bellowing forth a loud rumble.

~She leads it to us! Prepare!~ howls Fire-Burns-Forever gleefully.

Dagger's-Edge boils up to his warform, claws curling out like thorns uncurling from his black furred hands. ~About time,~ the philodox snarls, taking stock of the spirit.

Anethmora pages to the room: Anyone wanting to know what it looks like as it gets closer, feel free to look at this desc.
[look Anethmora]
Like an overly large, overly shaggy buffalo of The Great Plains, this spirit stands with baleful eye. Though nearly all of his fur is dark, a few moments of examination will reveal that it isn't all the same color. In fact, in patches and stripes and occasional polka-dots, the fur ranges across the spectrum from blues to reds, with nary a lock of brown. Large, yellowish-green horns curl back from his forhead, ending in deadly points. Cloven hooves sound stone against stone as he walks, and, like his fur, the dark they seem from a distance is clearly multi-hued at nearer range.

Sheeaghan looks around her and swiftly shifts one level up to hispo but keeps behind the ranks, behind the other packs. She keeps her wits with her, remaining quiet unlike the other warriors tonight.

Spider-Eyes's voice carries on the umbral winds as she runs closer, bleeding heavily from her side. ~I could not Sense Wyrm on it!~

Fire-Burns catches sight of the blood staining the Strider's flank. ~Yet it attacked you?~ she snarls.

~Good enough for me!~ Guards-The-Flame howls back. ~Spider Eyes, are you wounded badly?!~

Stands-in-rain is snorting like a bull, big, wet breath in through his nostrils. He's in a lather to get at this -thing-, whatever it is. Wyrm or no, it does not matter to him now, once the smell of the Strider's blood comes to him.

Head bowed, nasty horns pointed toward the Garou, the strange Bison-like spirit charges madly after the fleeing wolf.

Recalls-Scars shakes his head once, and again stretches his arms and shoulders. Knuckles crack and he grumbles as the beast steams towards the gathered Garou. ~What is it with foes and horns. Its always horns.~ One hand reflexively touches the scar on his chest.

Spider-Eyes just keeps on running, changing direction again as she nears the group of Garou, trying to keep the Bison-like spirit from plowing through them.

Ever-Grinning anticipates a frontal attack from the spirit, so he moves around to the side to try and flank it. Recalls-Scars too dodges sideways in the same way, ready to cut in from the side to attack. As the Strider grows closer, Guards-The-Flame soon rushes forward along side the Wyrm Foe. Soon as the monster gets into range, she springs upwards, looking to plant her weight into its shoulder and drive her claws deep towards its throat. And Fire-Burns is right by her side, adding her weight to Alicia's, claws reaching for the spirit's neck in tandem.

Power-Up springs into action and runs. Not towards the oncoming spirit, but off at an oblique angle, waving his arms like a windmill and howling as loud as his lungs and throat can stand, evidently trying to distract it from the main mass of garou. Forath-Ripper crouches and looks more than eager to rain hell upon the beast. Soon as he gets within range, he is going low, aiming for the knee of the creature. With barely a silent look between them, the Ahroun Wendigo catches sight of the Forsetti's plans and waits as well for the perfect opprotunity before blurring forward in a dance of rage, claws looking to rend and tear at the same leg. ~The beast needs to topple!~ He roars out. The pair of them move in perfect unison, as war packs do. Both Fenrir's children have claws of sharp diamonds activated and they aim to rend and tear. The pair of Shadow Lord's hardly wait a moment as the two of them go for the other leg. They move at such a speed that its hard to trail them with the human eye. The Ahroun goes high for the thigh while the Half Moon goes low for the ankle. Claws and Jaws reaching and gaping.

Untangler keeps to the caern's edge, staring tensely as the great beast comes charging, waiting half-hidden by position and gift. Sheeaghan remains with her ears perked, watching, and waiting as the spirit comes forward. The Fianna looks nervous. Spider-Eyes just keeps on running as if her life depends on it, because it does.

Almost as one the Garou attack, multicolored fur and blood go flying. The spirit is torn, and his fur grows slick, but he does not stop. Those directly in his path bear the brunt of his attack and he turns only once he has run the gauntlet of claws and teeth. Alicia feels the sharp fullness of horn through her abdomen, narrowly missing her spine. As it is, some of her intestine now adorn the horn, the red mixing with the greenish yellow in a putrid mess. Clemency's claws do no damage at all, shattering against the fur itself as the beast passes. Though Anethmora strikes with his hind legs as he goes past, neither kick hits home.

With barely a grunt, it is Guards-The-Flame's gift which causes her to not scream out in pain, only grunt loudly in discomfort. Landing once more and glaring off after the beast, the Child of Gaia once more crouches and readies herself, springing forward and looking to barrel straight into his side, once more claws and jaws snapping out in a quick blur of rage. Fire-Burns-Forever, meantime, looks for a brief amazed second at her shattered claws before screaming ~Feel my teeth, then!~ and racing after the spirit, aiming for its right hind flank and trying to get a bite in. Ever-Grinning launches himself at the thing's back left leg, trying to dig his claws into its hamstring, while Recalls-Scars takes advantage of the other garou slowing the beast if slightly and goes for its head from behind, spending rage in the process to aid his speed and accuracy. He bursts into blinding silver-white light while going directly for the creature's eyes (from behind) to blind it.

Power-Up wheels round as the spirit goes charging through the cluster of garou, and he races after it, keeping a distance to one side, still howling and gesturing at it in an attempt to draw its attention. Once gaining his footing, Forath-Ripper lets out a loud roar of victory for the Gaian's side as he and the Wendigo keep to one side, once more moving as a team. They zig and zag, then look to leap onto the beast's side and drive their rage driven attacks home. Chomp! Kills-Wisely looks to score a hard lock with his jaws into the back of its neck if possibly if his claws score, and the Fenrir Forsetti simply uses sheer strength to try and rip away at its guts and hide. Stands in the Rain looks to strike from the hind leg this time as Ever-Grinning focuses on the other rear. His jaws seek deep, teeth sharp, looking to score a stumble. Dagger's Edge hangs on to the beast from his first bite, looking to scramble crinos laws into the undersides and limb, aiming to cripple and drop the beast.

Now Untangler attacks: as the creature goes tearing by he tears after, hound after fox, apprehension replaced by instinct, making his pursuit almost natural despite the strangeness of the quarry and the situation. He aims to lope alongside it and if he can, to strike as it stops for another charge, tearing into haunch and sinew with Hispo teeth. Sheeaghan suddenly takes off, making a wide arc to get behind the beast. She stays at some distance, avoiding the rearing legs of the buffalo. Instead of depending on luck, the Theurge waits for the exact window to make her attack or otherwise to assist any members who might fall from injury. Spider-Eyes looks behind her, trying to determine if the spirit is still fixated on her.

Andy leaps almost onto the Bison's back, but though his claws scratch at the sides of its head, he comes nowhere near the spirit's eyes. With a shake of his massive head and neck, he sends the Silver Fang flying. With a sickening thud the recently made Cliath lands in a heap. Anyone who spares him a glance will see only white where once were colored irises. Again, the lumbering beast is unable to evade most of the attacks, at one point almost stumbling on his weakened hind leg. He spins, his horns swinging a wide arc, again seeking nearby targets and drawing blood from those nearest. Kills Wisely is gored through the shoulder, but Brom escapes this time.

Round three, Requiem looks more than ready to take another poke. Forath Ripper and Kills-Wisely follow along after Resonance, then strike at once together at the other hind leg, with Stands in the Rain dog piling along after. Its soon a party full of teeth, jaws and Fenrir's fury. Power-Up times himself carefully, then belts out a loud ~YEE HAW MOTHER FUCKER!~, then leaps upon powerful legs, calling upon his will to drive him onto the back of the creature as he passes by, looking to be well away from its sharp horns. Like riding a bull at the Rodeo, he searches with his claws to give the Bison like creature a bear hug. Dagger's-Edge weaves in and out of the fray, before looking to drive his claws along from behind as well as he strikes around his pack mates that has cluster fucked the spirit, hoping to drag his claws along its thick hide.

~The legs! Bring it down!~ howls Fire-Burns-Forever. Obeying her own command, she dives for the spirit's right hind leg, trying to wrap her now clawless arms round it to hinder its progress and bite it in the hamstring. Ever-Grinning hangs on for dear life like a bullriding cowboy at a rodeo. He tears again and again at the spirit's leg, trying to bring it down. Once she lands again, Guards-The-Flame watches Andy go flying. She takes only a second to evaulate that he isn't dead or too badly injured, before rushing once more into the fray. ~One leg, one attack! Strike Resonance!~ She howls out as she moves at once along with her Fianna packmate, blurring on and striking carefully with a planned attack. Meantime, the blinded Recalls-Scars crawls away, feeling his way towards an umbral clump of bushes, no longer able to effectively fight or defend himself, his spiritual light fading out once more.

Untangler doesn't hesitate any longer, leaping up so that he can take a fierce hold of the creature's middle and hopefully come away with a sizeable chunk of flesh, like a massive landborne furry piranha. Now that the Spirit is more interested in the other Garou instead of her, Spider-Eye attempts to attack the Spirit's side. Fully intending to climb up the Spirit's side and cling to the middle of it's massive back, while attacking it with her teeth and claws. Sheeaghan watches the battle, turning away when she sees Recalls-Scar hurled away. Worriedly she goes to see what's wrong with the boy, and what she can do to help.

Before he falls, Anethmora manages a savage kick at the Shadow Lord Philodox, who in turn is thrust backward through the air. He strikes a tree with unexpected force, and the tree, in turn, attacks. Spikes of wood emerge from the trunk, through the Garou, growing back again and pinning the bleeding hispo in place. The Buffalo then stumbles, going down on his knees, fore and aft, though he is not yet through. Power Up's leap fails, as the ground beneath him melts and he sinks to his waist in mud. He misses by inches being crushed by the falling spirit. Teeth and claws bite from every side, and the great spirit starts to waver. He lashes out, his form shifting and changing, losing cohesion. One horn/tendril strikes out like a whip, hitting Horace in the jaw and knocking him backward, end over end. And then, his form is no more. The spirit slowly dissipating into mist.

With a pant of breath, Guards-The-Flame starts rushing for Dagger's Edge at a quick pace. ~Dagger! Are you still alive?!~ She calls out, looking to carefully disengage the the Shadow Lord off the tree, gritting her teeth. ~What the hell was that thing?~ She asks, placing her paws upon the wounded and begins to heal.
As the spirit dissipates, Spider-Eyes sticks her nose into the remnants of the spirits' essence and searches for the Wyrm's taint.

Power-Up finds himself embogged. Attempts to lever himself out fail, and he remains there perforce, looking less joyous at the victory than he otherwise might have. He doesn't call for help or anything. The boy's got his pride.
~Attack our Metis, will you?~ Forath-Ripper rumbles, then spits on the ground before heading towards his pack, eyes falling upon the Half Moon Lord.

Dagger's-Edge is still alive, if but barely, as his form is shrinking to that of his breed. Even as Alicia puts her hands to the Lord, the philodox is utterly out. Only the weakest of breaths penetrate through, and that is marred with the gurgling sound of blood in his lungs.

Recalls-Scars can be found in hispo form, ducked half in some bushes. He is crouched low to the ground and reflexively blinking, pointed at the fight and pretty much.. listening. Close inspection woud find that the Fang's eyes are now made of wax. What a great night.

Stands-in-rain's first reaction is to see to the half-moon, but the Child of Gaia gets to him first. He leaves off with a snort, still looking, though he is moving toward Power-Up. He drops down on all fours, loping that way. He tests the ground with his paws before he attempts to rescue the boy; he'll hook him under the arms to lift him out. ~Birthform or Glabro, kid, so I can get you out quicker.~

Kills-Wisely turns about and quickly bolts to assist in helping his sunken packmate up onto solid ground.

Fire-Burns lets rip with a howl of victorious triumph, head thrown back, the Silver Fang in a crouch over the spot where the spirit faded away. Then she shakes her head as though to gather her thoughts. ~Theurge, to the wounded!~ she commands.

Kevin shifts down as suggested. "No rush," he drawls, "I'm not hurt. Just stuck."
Long distance to the room: Kenneth is le pinned to a tree, for Ali's reference.

Ever-Grinning thuds to the ground as the spirit disappears from underneath him. ~Oof. Whew.~ He stands and looks around. Seeing that Alicia is helping Kenneth, he goes to try and pull Power-Up out of the mud.

Untangler doesn't get up, not at least for a long time, though he's obviously still breathing and while the attack winded him, there's no blood and no real wounds and eventually he gets shakily to his feet. He looks around in strange wordless panic, and then begins to flee, not in his normal smooth saggy lope but waddling awkwardly like a retarded penguin on roller skates with a 50 lb. weight attached to one side of his body. He weaves this way and that as he tries to make his way, more or less, towards the trees.


Guards-Flame studies the job of her healing upon the Shadow Lord, then pats him on the head lightly before plucking him up and tossing him over her shoulder. ~ I am not able to heal him well for some reason. But, he will not die on me tonight. ~ She rumbles, heading back towards the others.

Recalls-Scars stands and *slowly* approaches the gathered, every step carefuly felt out, nose down, and ears perked. Its plainly obvious he can't see a damn thing. He does however seem to be following the voice of Fire-Burns-Forever.

Kenneth dangles limp as a struck fish, bleeding every few paces of the galliard.

Fire-Burns sees the blinded Silver Fang and lopes over to him. ~Here, Recalls-the-Scars. I am here. Take my hand.~ She stretches out one arm, the shattered remnants of sandstone claws still dangling from one or two fingers as she reaches for Andy.

Spider-Eyes seems to be bothered by something and continues sniffing about the ground, where the spirit dissipated and only a faint fog now remains.

Forath-Ripper glances over to Spider Eyes and makes his way over. ~What do you find?~ He asks, kneeling down next to her, twitching his nose.

Recalls-Scars simple pauses in place, nosing up until he comes in contact with the other Fang's hand. Not a word not a sound, he just follows.

~Recalls the Scars, are you alright? What is wrong?~ Guards-The-Flame asks after carefully putting the broken form of Kenneth, then makes her way over.

Fire-Burns rests her hand on the hispo Fang's neckruff. ~He cannot see,~ she responds in a voice taut with worry.

Stands-in-rain is working Kevin out of the mud. With the Ragabash shifted down, it makes his work easier, though he takes it slow, to avoid any surprises and to keep from tearing out a limb in carelessness. His crinos hands are huge, and the boy a ragdoll in comparison. Perhaps his own experience in the last Hunt have taught him, where he was himself ensnared by that foul water thing. Pulling him free, he gives him a look-over before he plunks him down. He'll go after Ken.

Kevin looks ruefully at his lower body, which is pretty much plastered in sticky, gooey mud. Then he looks at Kenneth, and Andy, and Alicia, and Clemency, and Horace, and he looks rather shamefaced to be annoyed at something so trivial in comparison to the injured garou.

~Open up your eyes, Scar.~ Guards-The-Flame says as she kneels before the Hispo, reaching out to take his face and study his eyes, sniffing at them.

Recalls-Scars turns his head vaguely in the direction of Guards-The-Flame. He blinks once and holds his eyes open. There is no motion, no life from them, not even scent, nothing. It wouldn't take long to determine the hard white, shiny orbs where his eyes should be are composed entirely of wax. Pure white wax.

Untangler turns from the woods towards steam vents, paws sticking awkwardly against the clay, and then after a couple seconds he does a quick about face and jets backwards to the mirror pool and the clear waterfall which feeds it.

Shifting down into the homid form, Alicia reaches out and gently traces her fingers over his eyes, gritting her teeth. "Can you feel me touching them?" She pauses. "Can you feel anything at all?"

Kenneth remains blissfully unconscious to the Revel's end.

Fire-Burns gasps in horror at the sight, heedless of the young cliath's feelings. ~If it were not already dead I would kill it for that.~

~I do not sense the Wyrm's touch. Not the strong stench that any minion of the Wyrm carries with it.~ Spider-Eyes rumbles softly, as her fur begins to lightly glow.. ~I would say that the spirit fought like a creature of the Wyld and that is what its Gnosis feels like.~ Straightening up, Spider-Eyes howls long and loud. ~Fellow Garou! I could not sense Taint on this creature before and my suspicions have been proven true. We have slain a creature of the Wyld!~ Its really hard to miss the fact that the tips of the Strider's fur now glows with a faint light.

~Well, then it shouldn't have fucking attacked you and then us.~ Forath-Ripper says with a snort as he starts to pace back and forth, glancing over Kenneth worriedly. ~You better live, fucker. You owe me a fight.~

"Wyld, schmyld," mutters Kevin to Dwight, his rescuer from the mud. "It /attacked/ her."

Recalls-Scars does everything he can to remain perfectly still. ~They are.. no longer a part of me.~ The wax leaves a light sheen on Alicia's fingertip. ~When you press I can feel the pressure behind them, it is like they have been replaced.~

Alicia pulls her hand back quickly and lets out a loud breath, giving her head a quick shake. ".. Shit. I... I don't know what to do here.. we need James, or Dakota... " She trails off, then stands upwards. "Someone find the Gate keeper! *Now!*" She orders.

Untangler finally finds the pool and distractedly, uncertainly, he strains against it to try and cross back over into the Realm.

The huge ahroun is snorting his wet black nose over Kenneth, gauging his wounds. Stands-in-the-rain is begrudgingly impressed with the kid; he has been through so much, and he's still breathing. ~We ought to get him back across,~ he grunts to Kevin. ~How're you with the curtain? Never been a problem with me. Til tonight, that is, fuck it all.~

Alicia pushes herself up to her feet. "Whoever stays is going to join me in a Ritual of Cleansing. If it doesn't work on him, then we can only pray that the Gate Keeper knows what to do."

"Not a scratch," Kevin replies to Dwight. "Even at the end when it fell by me it missed by a mile." (This is a considerable exaggeration.)

Spider-Eyes growls at nothing in particular, as she looks down at her feet. The Silent Strider looks down at the receding mist at her feet, making no effort to drain any more of the Spirits' energy.

Alicia starts to take a few moments to concentrate, letting her willow branch drop from dedication and into her hands, then uses it to slowly begin to draw a circle around Recalls-The-Scars. "Keep still. Spider Eyes, you got a light?" She asks, calling over her shoulder to the Glow-Bug.

Kevin goes on. "I can take him back, yes. At least I think I can. If I can just focus enough. I'll try, anyway."

Grumbling, Spider-Eyes walks over to Alicia. Lighting up the area for her, with her glowing fur. ~Cleansing is meant to remove the Wyrm's taint. This was caused by a Spirit of the Wyld. I don't think that it will work.~

Recalls-Scars coils his haunches silently to a seat, resisting the urge to nod in agreement. Instead he just.. well, stays really damn still.

Alicia lets out a snort. "Well, I don't know what else to do at this point, and its an option I am willing to try for now, instead of sit around and let him stumble about with eyes of clay. You got any ideas on how to deal with it?" There's a tinge of frustration in her voice.

Fire-Burns looks at Andy in near-desperation, as though by focussing her own eyes hard enough onto the other Fang, she could somehow transfer ocular energy to him and regrow his own. ~Would the Black Furies know? They tend the Wyld more than any other tribe.~

Jamethon is waiting in the realm by the Waterfall, seeming in meditation.

Stands-in-rain gives his grim shaggy head a nod. He will escort Kevin to the waterfall for better focus, Kenneth scooped up in his burnt arms.

Spider-Eyes crosses her arms, clearly unhappy and with her Rage bubbling near the surface. ~I would suggest, finding someone who knows more about Wyld Spirits.~

Kevin trudges muddily along with Dwight as the older Shadow Lord lifts up the younger one and carries him to the pool. There, the unconscious payload is transferred to the Glass Walker's arms and he calls out "See you on the flipside," to the members of his pack.

Alicia throws her stick down and grits her teeth sharply. "Besides the Gatekeeper, I don't think anyone else here knows much about the Wyld Spirits. Andrea is gone, so is Sepdet. This is complete bullshit."

~The Black Furies,~ repeats the Wyrmfoe like a mantra. ~If those here cannot help they may be able to contact others who can.~

"I love Helen with all my heart but she doesn't know her own ass from a hole in the ground, especially when it comes to spirits, Clemency. KL is an Ahroun and there is no one else that I know of at least." Alicia nearly roars out, starting to pace. "Where is that Bone Gnawer, Wrong Way? Where is..." She hisses out loud between clenched teeth, then drops down to her knees next to Recalls the Scars, draping an arm around his big fuzzy shoulder for a moment, before letting out a calmer breath. ".. Can you shift? What will happen if you do that?"

Recalls-Scars finally speaks up, ~If the Gatekeeper can help, then why not seek him out? Or at least get out of the Umbra before something else tries to kill us.~ At that, he comes rather obstinately to his feet. ~I went from the warform to this right after I fell. If damage would be done by it, then it has already happened.~

Alicia lets out a breath. "Alright.. I'll take you across and try and calm the fuck down." She retorts, grabbing him by the scruff and starting to lead him towards the water. "Fucking hell of a damn night. Why couldn't we have just found a Thunder Wyrm like every other fucking normal Sept out here?" Grumbling, she starts the reach, focusing upon the spirit within her. "We're rolling out people!"

By the Waterfall
The walls of the canyon surrounding the caern reach upwards to thirty feet here, their highest point. About two-thirds of the way up, a small underground spring exits the rock face. The water spills playfully down the cliff face, caressing the rocks and darting away, but always falling to gravity's inexorable pull. The flow, upon entering the shallow, chilled pool of water at the bottom, creates constant ripples in the puddle's surface. A light mist rises up from the ground near the pool, chilling to the bone.
The forest surrounding the caern's border is far less dense than the rest of the nearby forest, with ferns and clumps of aspen taking the place of white pine and birch. Scattered, centuries-old cedar stand majestically over their fallen, decaying, moss-covered comrades. This peculiarity seems to surround only the area just outside the caern.
To the west, cool mist kicked up by the falls mingles with warmer steam from geothermal sources; these mists swirl around the caern to the north. The caern's center lies northwest of here. You can pick out what seems to be a hazardous trail over rock and up the wall, to the side of the waterfall.
Contents:
[As before, minus some folks]
Obvious exits:
Steam Vents  Center  Windy Spot  Up the Trail  

Jamethon eyes those that arrive, concern knotting into his face. "I see." Is all he says, getting up to move towards them.

At the center, Untangler makes his way towards Jacinta, his face down now, head hanging loosely from his neck as if it were barely attached. He sniffs his way forward, letting the seconds drag out as he finds his slow way towards his Alpha.

Once on the other side, it's evident how Kenneth has completely ruined the clothing that was given him by someone persistent enough to have replaced his formerly frayed clothing. These look all the more worse, slicked with blood from the many puncture wounds that riddle his body, some looking more serious than others. Not to mention, his chest seems awfully concave.

At the center, Jacinta's brows pull close together as her hispo packmate approaches, staring at him with some measure of confusion.

Jamethon growls out as he raises to glabro, "Who among you has the greatest need for the touch?"

Kevin lies Kenneth down carefully and squats down by him, concern etched on his face, or maybe it's just tiredness Hard to tell.

The Umbra splits once more as Guards-The-Flame steps across with Fire Burns and the new Galliard, Recalls The Scars. ~Fights for Hope! The Wyld Spirit turned Recalls The Scars eyes to clay. I think. I don't know what to do.~

~Wax,~ Fire-Burns-Forever corrects. ~White wax. Just wax.~ Her voice is tired, drained beyond belief.

Recalls-Scars just follows in silence, large hispo paws placed carefully at every step. His eyes quite indeed nothing more than solid orbs of white wax. The Fang looks entirely emo for the whole ordeal.

At the center, Untangler slowly walks his way up the rocky path to where his Alpha sits, with the worried preoccupation of a kid just learning to bike who suddenly realizes his teacher has let go of the back of the seat. He closes his eyes once he's passed the main meeting ground, once he can follow her by scent. When he's close, still without looking up, the Ragabash winds out, plaintive and distraught, ~The Wyld hates me!~

Jamethon lifts his eyebrows when he hears of a Wyld spirit fight. "The changes of a Wyld spirit are in and of themselves in flux. It could take a minute to heal, it could take four lifetimes. Or it could melt away and turn to cow's milk. He should be cleansed, for Wyld taints just as much as Wyrm or Weaver. The cleansing will take the inbalance from him. But" He glances around to the others, "Are there any in danger of death without healing?" He calls out the question gruff but loud.

"Kenneth," Kevin calls out. "I don't think he's dying but he's pretty badly beat up."

At the center, Jacinta's brows rise as her packmate approaches and she watches him with some concern. "Hate? Why do you say this?"

Forath-Ripper paces back and forth around Kenneth's body, letting out a loud growl in the back of his throat. His ears flatten, lttting out a concerned grunt.

~Edge is bad-off,~ the ahroun Lord growls, ears back. ~He got impaled, the buffalo threw him right into a tree. He'll bleed out like this. Need to get him patched up enough he'll come around. He needs to shift.~ Stands-in-the-rain is licking his teeth; it's a hard call. Andy's eyes... ~Isn't there no other theurge?~

Kenneth's weak breath gurgles, if only to be the Lord's testimony of being alive.

At the center, Olga's bag is still at the circle's edge, resting on her blanket and turned slightly over and spilling out bounty like Santa's sack, if Santa only had $5 for toys for the year, but the Theurge herself is nowhere to be seen.

At the center, Untangler's ears are back and he looks up at Jacinta, droopy eyes wetter than normal, bleary and struggling to focus. ~You're backwards!~ he whines nonsensically out, pulling back away from her so that he can dump himself down into a sit, and then stretch himself out, head on his paws.

Jamethon growls out in answer to the question as he moves to Edge, "If we were numerous in theurges then we wouldn't have so many problems with keeping the Wyld spirits of a Wyld caern under better control." He then looks over Edge and shakes his head, "You owe me one Shadow Lord." He rests hands on the wounds of the splintered Groo he starts chanting lowly. A low thruming comes from his hand and after a moment passes he jabs his fingers into the wounds, one at a time.

When fingers come away the wounds remain the same, unhealed.

At the center, Jacinta's head pulls forward, neck stretching from her shoulders. "Untangler, brother. What is wrong?"

Jamethon shakes his head and stands. "This one has already recieved the touch. If he is going to be cared for, it will be with bandage and care. Get as much of the splinters out as you can, then use cloth to bind the wounds." He stands and looks around once more, he then moves on to the Man Who Saw Wax.

Guards-Flame leads Recalls-The-Scars a bit towards James and then tells him to stay put. "I suggested using the Cleansing. I am ready to help you in it."
Recalls-Scars again follows, for a real lack of knowing what else to do. He follows Guards-Flame in at least verbal silence, occasionally tripping over unseen bumps and dips in the terrain.

At the center, Untangler answers with the unhelpful exclamation of ~Everything!~ followed by a sharp whine of ugly, angry frustration. He gets back up enough to paw fiercely at the rocky ground, shaking his head slowly, limply back and forth, almost serene, at such odds at the claws throwing dirt behind him that it's as if the two actions were made by different people. ~Everything's backwards!~ he tells her as if it makes no sense to him, either. He jerks his head first in one direction, then the other, intoning almost in sing-song, ~This way is that way, that way's this way, it's all so weird Pierces Ice-rhya. It was a monster and we attacked it and it was all sorts of different colours - I waited until it passed because I didn't want to get squished and then I clawed it and it hit me and got me in the head and now I can't see anything, I'm a _moon-calf_!~ he exclaims all in a tangled rush, unable to keep his regular pacing. ~It scrambled my brains!~

Guards-Flame blinks her eyes a bit. ~Oh my Gaia. I understand what you are saying. Your perception has been reversed? When you go left, you walk right?~

At the center, Jacinta continues to stare uncomprehendingly at her packmate until Alicia speaks. Her gaze turns to the Child of Gaia and then back to Horace and she studies him carefully. One hand reaches out, almost to touch his left ear and her eyes narrow. She shifts her gaze to his right ear and then quickly back to his left.

At the center, Untangler turns to look at Guards-Flame when he hears her speak, still wretchedly nervous, but rather than looking back behind him to the left he strains his neck around right in an awkward half circle, whimpering all the way, until it's stretched all the way across his back as if he's had it straight wrung. He holds the position surprisingly well, looking at Alicia and whimpering out his conditional agreement (yes - well sorta, almost). It's only when he tries to move back to a normal position and ends up just twisting himself up further pretzel shaped that one leg goes jerking out to steady him, only it's the wrong one, and he ends up writhing on his back trying to get up, but unable to commit to a certain direction. It only lasts a few seconds before he just goes still, lying there and looking straight up at Jacinta, droopy-eyed.

Guards-Flame lets out a loud breath and shakes her head. "Damn." She murmurs. "Horace stay still and don't move, at all. Just.. sit, good. James, lets do this." She urges.

Stands-in-rain watches intently, his cold blue eyes riveted on the Fenrir mystic and the downed philodox. When no result comes, he stiffens, fur up, and his ears back. His breath goes out in a deep woof. Nothing seems to work this night, and he is wary, now, superstitious, in the way that big-moons get. He does not understand the spirit they've just tangled with, and he is uneasy. His world is simple. Wax eyes, backwards vision, glowing fur, none of that. ~You said some kind of imbalance,~ he rumbles, as he sees to Kenneth. ~Could you cleanse all of them?~

Jamethon moves to guide the blind man closer to the water, then eases him down to kneel before it. "Relax. What will be is what will be." He looks over to the inquiry, "Only those harmed. The rest of you could use a little Wyld in your diet."

At the center, Jacinta half-rises, her hand still outstretched. Looking over to the Fostern she pauses and lets her arm drop back to her side, content to wait and listen for the moment.

Standing up once more, Guards-The-Flame reaches over and begins to help drag Untangler towards the Silver Fang. ~Stay calm and don't move. Pray that we'll be able to fix what has been done wrong tonight.~

Recalls-Scars eases to lying with his head up, nearly at attention by the water's edge except that his ears are laid back. ~Thank you, in advance, for your help.~

At the center, Untangler doesn't follow Guards-Flame's instructions: after a few long seconds' stillness he's able to summon enough of himself to wrench himself into a sitting position. He goes at it like someone dropping from 100 meter slide, with a moment's grim preparation, a sudden wrench, and then complete eye-crenched abandon, and he manages to get himself on his belly, claws all digging at the earth as if worried that next down might be up. He's quite determined not to move, and to help him stay where he is he spurts suddenly into Hispo, flat against the ground, legs slightly splayed.

Kenneth meanwhile, misses out on the lovely hilarity of 100% Wyld Beach Diet that is occurring around him.

Stands-in-rain scoops up his tribemate without much of an effort, the kid limp as a dishrag. His eyes are on Jamethon, Alicia, and the blind Fang, whose big night this was supposed to be. His look does not linger, only enough to convey bittersweet thanks to the Get. Resigned, he'll carry off Kenneth and deal with that problem.

At the center, Jacinta completes the abandoned motion and rises to her feet. Moving to Horace's head she squats beside him and whispers quietly. "Close your eyes. Use your nose. Move closer to where they will cleanse you. Perhaps you will feel better, after."

At the center, Untangler really doesn't want to move and that's obvious from the splay of his leg and the dig of his claws. Surprise and uncertainty is slowly giving way to a kind of terror. He doesn't whimper or whine, he just gets very still and very quiet, except for his breathing which is still tight and fierce, lifting his bulky chest and then sagging it back down. It's only his Alpha's commands that get him moving again: he does as she says, struggling forward with awkward and grasping movements, taking the caern by inches. He has to think before he stretches out each paw, and he still stays flat against the ground, crawling.

Jamethon gets a flask out from an inner jacket pocket. He moves to make a circle about the blind one with the contents, a strong smelling smokey liquid thick with plant essenses.

Once more dropping her willow stick out of dedication, Guards-The-Flame lets out a quiet rumbling prayer as she begins to focus and concentrate on the wood between her paws. She is rumbling a soft prayer, calling upon the spirit of the staff to give their ritual strength.

Recalls-Scars sits mostly oblivious, having squashed most sound out with the hard folding of his ears. Oblivious at least until the scent of the ritual liquid brings a wrinkle to his nose.

Jamethon finishes the circle and begins to chant lowly in german, continuing to walk in the circle. With every completed circle his voice grows louder and he speeds up. Soon he is almost running around the blinded, screaming out phrases in a language that can't even be guessed at, as to what it might be.

Recalls-Scars yet remains, nose pointed at the ground, teeth clenched and ears still folded. From his expression he might seem to be deep in thought, or at least concentrating on something.

Suddenly, Jamethon stops raises to the crinos and leans over Recalls-Scars' body, roaring out spittle and rage. His claws flash out to just barely not eviserate the target's back.

Fights-For-Hope now huffing deeply, steps away from the blinded one. ~It is done, the ritual has driven out the inbalance that it will.~

Leaping forward as well, Guards-The-Flame roars her loudest as she summons up the breath, looking to scare the balance back into the blinded one. She aids her own voice to the ritual until James finishes.

Sky pages to the Caern: There is no change in the status of any of the aflicted.

Fights-For-Hope shakes his head as he melts down to the homid. "It is deeper than just taint. I will meditate on what can be done. The problems are of perception, I believe the lady Chimera can help. I will return to her, and consult her wisdom."
Guards-Flame lets out a loud roar of frustration, then starts to pace back and forth, claws clenching up. ~Alright, thank you for at least trying.~ She rumbles, before reaching down to help the Galliard to his feet. ~I will take you to the farmhouse then. Shift to your homid form.~

At the center, Jacinta reaches out to place her hand under her packmate's muzzle. "Come. I will take you to a place you can rest."

Recalls-Scars comes to his feet again and shifts up, through the forms and to homid. He nods vaguely in the direction of James again. "Thank you, again." Hands shoved in pockets, for the time being he seems resigned to being led around for the time being.

At the center, There isn't much Untangler desires more than that and he answers Jacinta's touch without complaint or hesitation, just a quiet, frustrated whimper. He keeps his eyes closed as he follows her, and he takes his way slowly.

Infirmary
Harsh summer sunlight beats through the windows, brightening the room. Thin white curtains keep the glare out while allowing enough light in to dispel shadows. A small ceramic heater sits on the floor near the bed, available for use when needed. A wide bed stands in the center of the south wall, white linens carefully tucked in around its mattress. A low table stands beside the bed, a small basin and pitcher perched atop it. Two large chairs sit facing the bed, and a small wooden chair sits against the south wall opposite the table. A tall cabinet occupies the northeast corner of the room, its glass door revealing a well-stocked medicine cabinet, various medical implements and supplies carefully arranged within.
The only exit from the room is a single door on the eastern wall.
(Non-Garou, please "+view curse")
Contents:
Stacey
Obvious exits:
HAllway  

The room is dark, moonlight from the full eye of Luna streaming through open windows and lighting a square patch of the far bed. There, the shape of the Shadow Lord can be seen tucked under a thin white sheet. Breathing, faint but there.

Stacey walks out of the attic and heads down the stairs toward the kitchen, but pauses at the open door of the infirmary, noticing someone lying in the bed. She peeks in curiously, brows raised in concern. "Gaia, Kenneth!" she hisses upon recognizing him and enters the room.

Kenneth doesn't answer. He is, though, alive. Hard to tell in the darkness, but even then the philodox's face is pale, peacefully comatose. His breathing, once the ahroun gets closer, can be noticed to have a definite difficulty and weakness.

Stacey steps up next to the bed, her own face pale with worry. Her small hand reaches forward, cautiously, as though afraid he'll jump up at any moment, and pulls back the white sheet, to see how the Shadow Lord is wounded.

Kenneth has been cleaned up, told by the fresh bandages and even a few tourniquets applied. But clearly, the Shadow Lord is battered beyond what anyone would consider healthy. His chest is bound multiple times, but the stain of blood seeps just slightly through the wounds that riddle him. It seems like he's been crushed in on the chest, and yet he breathes. Painfully, were he awake. And though shirtless, and his jeans torn to shorts, the philodox sleeps obliviously on.
Long distance to the room: Kenneth sums up - multiple ragged punctures through his torso, couple on his limbs, broken ribs and sternum likely.

Stacey grows more and more concerned as she looks Kenneth over. "Gaia... What'd you run into out there?" she mutters softly. Taking a deep breath, she spreads her hands above the Shadow Lord's torso and closes her eyes, concentrating with all her might and heart as she attempts to use her gift to heal him.

Kenneth remains as he is. Disturbingly, his wounds take nothing of the Mother's Touch. What does happen though, is the slightest of skips in his breathing. His eyes beneath closed lids, shift a bit.

Stacey lowers her hands once she realizes it's not working, confused and disappointed. "Far-Cry..." Blinking back tears, she pulls the blanket back over him, making sure he's covered and looks... as comfortable and well as can be. Then she drags a chair up next to the bed and curls up on it.

Seconds tick by. Those coalesce to minutes. And then, further dragging on, it feels like hours. Though hard to tell time under the darkness of the sky outside, the only thing steady is the persistent breathing of the philodox. But at crucial points, that too seems to wane or waver dangerously, and bated breath returns to normal. Every so often, the Shadow Lord twitches in his left hand.

Stacey remains curled up on the chair, for the most part, unable to sleep, watching Kenneth. Now and then, she'll close her eyes, but when his breaths waver, her eyes flick back open, her own breath catching until his returns to normal. Now and then, restless under the full moon, she'll stand and pace, although always remaining within a couple steps of the Shadow Lord.

The silence flows by like a silt filled river, with only the occassional gurgle in the philodox's breathing to move it along. As the night draws on, eventually, small beads of sweat start to form on the philodox's face. His eyes dart about beneath their lids, and his hand again starts to twitch in odd spasms. His breath comes fast, quiet but sharp and his face tweaks itself as if in pain.

Stacey stops her pacing and sits back down in the chair, tucking her feet under her. She watches anxiously, helplessly, as the Shadow Lord's movement and breathing change. Her own young face seems to mirror the pain on his, and then she buries her head in her arms, unable to watch, but still needing to be near in case something happened.

Kenneth's pained face relaxes slightly, but the nightmare runs its course. Many more times, the ahroun beside his bed finds the philodox tensing, tightening, almost seeming like he would burst from his bonds. But every time, a fresh quiet restores itself. And in the dead of night, time unknown, eventually he twitches himself awake. Groggily. Or it seems that way, with the flutter of his eyelids that stubbornly want to stay sealed.

Stacey watches over the Philodox throughout the night, shaking herself awake whenever sleep threatened to overtake her. And when the pattern changes, when Kenneth seems to begin to waken, the young girl waits tensely to see what will happen, her small hand gripping the arm of the chair.

Kenneth sucks in for breath, but receives little. As his body responds to renewed signals, the halfmoon parts his lips and coughs weakly. The taste of old blood, disorientation, pain, all this gathers itself one by one and adds into a picture of the Shadow Lord coming around. And the first thing out of him is a mild groan.

Stacey shifts in her seat, leaning a bit forward. Her expression becomes more hopeful at the sound of the groan, although the worry still lingers. She looks around the room, as if looking for some aide, and then goes back to her vigil.

The Shadow Lord's hand curls, and retracts slowly underneath the bedsheet. He's moving beneath, in the darkness exploring through senses. Painstakingly slow, the philodox wakes to a point of uttering another, more pained sounding groan but louder. His eyes slit themselves open, staring blearily towards the infirmary ceiling. Kenneth seems unaware of the vigilant Child beside him.

Stacey continues to watch the Shadow Lord intently, still clutching the arm of the chair. When Kenneth finally opens his eyes, whether he notices her or not, she lets out a small sigh and then shifts her position to lay her head down on her arm.

Kenneth continues to test things out, one by one. Then, impulsively, he tries to sit up. Much to his regret, as his body utterly rejects the notion and rewards the Shadow Lord with a fresh smack of pain to wrack his body with that sends it into a vicious cycle of shock. At least he's awake enough to curse. And loudly.

Stacey has actually closed her eyes, even entered the realm of half-dreams, when Kenneth curses. She jerks awake and sits upright, eyes wide as she looks over at him. "What?" she asks before somewhat regaining her senses. She wrinkles her nose and puts a hand to her head, dizzy from sitting up so fast.

Kenneth wants to curl up, but doing so involves moving. His half attempt to sit up dissolves into a slow unraveling of the philodox's tensed body back down onto the bed. His own dizziness wanes slowly, but the insert of the ahroun's voice into his senses acts like a focus point. "..Stace?"

Stacey lowers her head and blinks over at the Philodox, stifling a yawn. "Yeah? I'm here," she says, shifting once again to sit up, the chair creaking as she does so. "You... got hurt bad." Another stifled yawn. "Can you shift?"

Kenneth rests his head back against the pillow, keeping his breathing shallow. After a dry swallow, the halfmoon dares to press his luck in speaking. "..the Revel.." he utters, forcibly.

Stacey frowns at that. "Yeah... well, that's where you got hurt," she offers, rubbing an eye tiredly. "No, I don't know what happened. Haven't seen anyone else."

Kenneth can barely move, let alone shift. Feeling the bandages along his chest, and inadvertantly along his arms, the philodox grimaces again. He mutters another low curse at the dull throb of pain, but in it all, he swallows down once more. "Damn," he manages, closing his eyes. "How long was I...?"

Stacey frowns at the grimaces and curses. "I don't know," she says, almost a tired whine. "It was late when I saw you here, and now it's really, really late."

Kenneth sighs softly. When he opens his eyes again, it is to look at the ahroun sidelong. "Have.. you been here? All this time?" Once again, he tries sitting up. Once again, he fails miserably. Painfully.

Stacey yawns and leans her head back against the chair, traces of concern and relief still detectable in her expression. She gives a faint shrug of a shoulder. "Someone had to be around. Just in case."

"You're such a.. Child," Kenneth mutters quietly, pushing himself bit by bit. Finally, he gives up and lays back down. Then after another few minutes, he whispers the faintest of words. "Thanks."

Stacey tilts her head to look over at the Shadow Lord, then closes her eyes and smiles softly, a tired grin. "Anytime, Kenneth."

If the Shadow Lord heard her, his silence is his only answer. His breathing quickens, growing heavy as the halfmoon's body tightens and pushes itself to shift. The change is slow, but the bed bends deeper, and the sheets move and rasp with Kenneth's change. He just makes it to Glabro before exhaustion sweeps back in and takes over. And then, the ahroun might notice his eyes closing, and regular shallow breathing resuming once more.

Stacey opens her eyes once more to witness the Shadow Lord's shift into Glabro, and then she curls up in the chair, resting her head on her arm, and begins to finally drift off to sleep.