The Long Vigil Rite
9/23/2005
06:22 PM
Logfile from GarouMUSH.
Currently the moon is in the waning Gibbous Moon phase (64% full).
It is currently 18:19 Pacific Time on Fri Sep 23 2005.
The Sept Compound(#2075RAM)
Sweeping branches of trees form a sort of natural roof overshadowing most of this clearing, no more than an open space of grasses and beaten earth in the heart of the forest. Some pains have been taken to keep wear and tear on the area to a minimum, so the firepit tends to shift from time to time. The firepit, several sawn logs polished from use, and a stack of firewood discreetly piled up at the base of an old spruce under a tarp, are the only signs of constant occupation.
A faint trail leads off to the east, and a bit north.
Obvious exits:
Forest
Rifthealer howls long and loud.
From The Sept Compound, Rifthealer can be heard to howl, ~Brothers and sisters, tonight we celebrate the Glory of the year past! Come, share your tales and trophies won as we give praise for our success against the Wyrm!~
Runner arrives shortly after the howl, carrying around her neck a peculiar looking, paper-wrapped large ring about the size of a hubcap in diameter. Along the paper are some chinese words written in ink around it. The ragabash chuffs to her packmate and ritemaster, letting the ring slip from her neck and drop to the ground.
The sun is beginning to slip below the clear horizon, casting mottled patches of light to come through the trees. Two fire burns already, set aside from the main fire pit where a large mass of broken and mangled frogs have been stacked. The Mistress of Rites lays by the smaller of the fires, eyes half lidded in her broad hispo face. Next to that is larger one where a spit has been made of thick wood, supporting the body of a large stag as it slowly finishes cooking. The Theurge's ears prick as her packmate arrives, tail wagging as she stands. ~Runs-the-Gauntlet, hello.~
Making her way into the Compound shortly behind the Gnawer Fostern is Alicia, carrying a garbage bag in her hands, having it slung over her shoulder. She has a neutral expression on her face, eyes narrowed and full of thought.
His face somewhat clouded, his walk less than energetic, Kevin makes his way into the Compound. One hand clutches something long, rectangular and thin as he enters, avoiding most peoples' eyes.
Circle Keeper slowly crunches his way along, most definitely not in his Sunday best. The white furred Uktena is liberally splattered with what smells and looks like recent blood; his spear that he uses to keep pace as he heads to the Compound looks similarly bloodied. Ears perked forward, he stops and sniffs the air at the compound as he arrives, before shrinking down to on-all-fours-Hispo.
Reggie appears a few minutes after the howl dies down. He makes a slow pace into the compound, a canvas bag clenched in the crook of his scar-gnarled arm. He draws up short as he notices the pile of frogs, blinking at them, then he turns from them to greet the ritemistress. "Good evening, Heals the Rifts." He nods at the others, more deeply at Yi and Alicia. His eyes slide back to the frogs.
A trio of garou enters next; two in homid form (Brom and Clemency, the somewhat unlikely duo keeping a little more space between them than strict protocol might demand, but somehow not seeming unnecessarily unfriendly to one another), with a companion in lupus, a smallish white-furred wolf of very striking appearance and demeanor.
Rifthealer steps away from the two fires, turning her nose towards the one roasting the stag. ~Eat, if you are hungry. I know it will be a long night.~ Circling the pile of frog bodies, the Ritemistress regards all of those gathered and arriving. ~Make yourselves comfortable. Those of you with trophies to offer, you may add them to those already gathered upon telling your story. Are any others on their way, or are we ready to begin?~
Runner looks over and sniffs at some of the ritual implements, curious about them but patient enough to wait to find out what they do. As others arrive, she greets them with chuffs and dips her head. Circle Keeper receives a most curious, and slightly concerned onceover. At least, until other arrivals receive her attention and greetings.
Circle Keeper's voice raises, gruff. ~There have been attacks on the bawn, Rite Mistress. I will have to check the sanctity of the Caern remains before the rite is finished, no dishonour to the spirits intended.~
Rifthealer turns her attention to the Guardian, ears pricking up on her skull. ~Attacks? Of what kind?~
Runner also looks back sharply to the Uktena. What attacks? she echoes.
Clemency makes the third to echo that question, in the third different language. "Attacks? What the?"
Dillen comes in from the side of the group. "Saw them myself, looked like a human family once they were dead." He gives a bow of his head to those that should get one.
~Children of the Horned Serpent. You were present for the first attack.~ Circle Keeper, to the point. The Ahroun's club like tail irks out behind him once, the hispo licking his jaws.
"The Wyrm is growing more active, both here and in the city," Kevin comments with a jaundiced air as he peers at the mangled heap of frog corpses.
Reggie studies the stag when Dakota indicates it, then slowly turns back to look at the frogs, eyebrows raised. He unties the neck of the canvas bag, and fishes out an unnaturally narrow, long, skeletonal hand held on to the arm bones with a sleeve of navy fabric. The little skin that is left on it is an odd shade of white. Reggie pauses while putting the arm atop the frogs, to listen to the talk of attacks on the bawn, then continues, adding to the pile, a set of boar tusks.
The Sept Alpha of the moment stays quiet as she listens to everyone speak, quietly breathing and keeping thoughts to herself. She is wearing a bulky shirt at the moment and moving about stiffly as she settles the bag upon the ground.
Brom carries his duffle bag in and drops it with a heavy thump, then arches his back a bit with a loud yawn, eyes narrowing as he looks about those gathered.
Rifthealer peels her lips back, growling quietly. ~The corrupt were slain, I expect? What of those killed?~ Her eyes shift up to Dillen. ~You say you saw them?~
Runner then looks to Dillen, ears flickering, as if expectant for more detail as well.
~They were slain. Maybe it is to be saved for the rite.~ The Hispo rumbles out, nonplussed. This one only wished Rifthealer to know he was not leaving to disrespect the spirits.
"If you are speaking for the ones this afternoon, yes. A glorious victory for Circle keeper and Cole. Dwight and I arrived just in time to see the last go down." Dillen fishes into his pocket and pulls out two vampire teeth, turning them around in his hand.
Smells-Of-Fruit stays near Clemency, the small wolf form looking around with wide eyes, ears perked as he observes and listens closely to what's going on.
Clemency squats down by the lupus companionably, listening to the news of the fight with interest.
Rifthealer lays her ears back partway. ~The safety of the caern is above all other things. If all is well for now, then it is time to begin. To my knowledge, this Rite has not been performed at this sept before in the memories of those here. Normally, the tales told are those from the past year, but this time I do not see the Celestines angered by tales of the past.~ Walking to the smaller of the two fires, she lifts her nose to the sky as it grows dark and the stars come out, her voice rising to a low howl. ~The summer has ended, and the days bright with the light of Helios are fading. The long nights of winter come, the nights the Wyrm breeds swift in the darkness and the cold.~
Runner splays an ear, and then chuffs a vocal shrug before sitting by the papercovered ring she's brought. Her attentions return to the ritemistress, ears once more twitching with the beginning. The ragabash yips once in sharp agreement.
Kenneth steps out of the woodsline to join the others for the rite. He seems to have brought nothing with him. The Shadow Lord sits at the boundary of the group, watching in silence. The three packmates of his are glanced at, but no spoken greeting is given to them.
Kevin looks over to Kenneth, gaze meeting gaze, but he says nothing in greeting either.
Dillen notices Kenneth and looks at him for a moment. A slight nod is given as Rifthealer goes about what she is doing.
The Forseti listens to the Rites Mistress and lets out a quiet grunt of agreement. Spying Kenneth, he motions him over to join the pack as he stands with Kevin and Dillen.
~To many people, summer is the time of war, but our enemy does not fear the blackness of the dead months and strikes all the more fiercer. Helios has granted up his mercy this summer, giving us long days in which to stalk our prey and plan our attacks, to this we give thanks and praise to the Lord of Light. In the deep nights to come, we must look to Luna to light our way and show us where the Wyrm lies. Her voice speaks softer but no less wise, and tonight we sing the songs of Glory to remind ourselves how to listen close, for we will need every whisper for our winter war.~ Raising her head higher, the Rite Mistress begins a low howl, beginning as a faint crone that rises into the ghostly, somber notes of a wolf knowing the hard times are coming. Her voice holds words of praise to Helios, Luna, and Gaia, inviting all to join in the prayer for their blessings.
Shifting her way into the Crinos form, Guards-The-Flame joins her pack mate in her howl as she bellows out her Galliard's voice. Her black fur puffs out a bit at the light breeze in the air, revealing a scabbed over wound that is ripped across her chest and stomach.
Dillen shifts up as well and into crinos. His head lifts to the sky as he adds his howl to the song, blending in with the timbre of it.
Circle Keeper lowers his back end, mammoth head tipping up as he joins the howl with his own, basey howl. He lets it cut outward, offering high praise to the greatest of spirits.
Clemency speaks quietly into the lupus cub's ear as she squats by him, translating the speech for him. At the invitation to howl, she shifts up to crinos and with a gesture to the Fang cub that he should do likewise, she howls long and loud, head back and unrestrained.
Runner ripples up to her crinos form as well, listening and mediating her voice in turn to not match with the others. Hers is a greeting to the spirits and call to them as well, asking favor and safe watch over the night.
Kevin shifts all the way through to hispo, nose pointing at the sky as he joins in the howl.
Smells-Of-Fruit looks thankful for the whispers from Clemency and then as the howls raise he lets his voice join in with the others, staying in wolf form arcing his head back and crying to the sky.
Kenneth reaches into a pocket and takes out a snapped off looking blade, before joining his packmates. Though he gives a decent amount of space, the Shadow Lord joins the howl with a shift to crinos that lasts only so long, before he slips back and stops at Glabro on the fade of the howls.
Reggie shifts to crinos to join the howl, his wolfskins tightening and merging to form a patchwork Crinos skin.
Fights-For-Hope comes out of the woods in lupus, head already raised and as soon as he is in view, looses a howl.
Michael takes on the crinos and tilting his head up, arching his back, and kneeling low joins in with a powerful howl.
The Rite Mistress' call wavers and fades away as the moon rises into the sky, leaving the compound to be washed in the pale silver light and the red-gold glow of the fires. Remaining in hispo, the Theurge settles back to her haunches by the fires and lets her gaze travel over those gathered. Her eyes finally settle on the patchwork Uktena. ~Rags-Torn-to-Rags, I saw your trophies already added. Please, share with us their story.~
Kills-Wisely has a vividly blood-stained and over-sized tusk with him that he holds in his right clawed hand.
Rags looks slightly startled to be called upon, and looks around, until he locates Guards-Flame. ~The arm is from our errand to the city, for a challenge. I would be honored if you would tell of it.~ He also indicates the tusk, and looks again. ~There was another Galliard for the battle of the pigs, but I do not see Andy Recalls-the-Scars. A shame.~
Distractedly, it seems that Guards-The-Flame was rehearsing under her breath as she paces back and forth, motioning with her paws. At the sound of her name, she stops and jerks her chin upwards, then widens her eyes over to the Uktena. Total brainfart. She stands there for a moment, then shakes her head, before starting over to him. ~Oh.. Of course..~
Runner glances up at the Uktena elder, her tongue flicking out to lick her nose. ~I thought I recognized that thing,~ she rumbles out with no concealment of surprise. ~Where have you kept it all this time, Rags?~
Rifthealer takes her time to shift up into Crinos, pulling herself up off of the ground as she reaches over to the fire-roasted stag, kept warm over the coals of the fire, and with her claws carves off a portion of the haunch. Turning to regard Rags, she tilts her head. ~Certainly it is a rare act to catch my cousin wordless, or at least, with the wrong words in her mouth.~ She remarks, eyes squinting with amusement.
During this whole time Kills-Wisely made his way up to the bonfire and contributes his trophy.
Rags breaks off his watching of the Galliard Child to glance over at the Gnawer, taking a moment to process the question, then he nods at her. ~Yes. You were there.~ He glances over at Michael's tusk. ~Many of us have been at the same battles.~
Taking the arm from Rags, Guards-The-Flame paces towards the fire and glances down at the skeletal appendage she weilds. Turning it about in thought, she begins with a deep rumbling tone as her voice fills the air. ~I remember this night, the first day of March this year. Rags to Rags challenged Fights For Hope for the rank of Fostern during the previous moot. After working his way through the first task, he was to set upon the second. Rags to Rags had to forge his way towards the Wyrm and destroy it, then bring back a trophy that would appease the challenged child of Fenris. He sought out Three-Blades, who now stands among us tonight as Runs-The-Gauntlet and myself to accompany him on his task. The rules were set, he was to go in and fight alone, and we were there to watch and be witness for his courageous act.~
Circling the fire, her black eyes gleam brightly with the dancing flame, her black pelt absorbing the heat and warming the skin beneath. ~Without much in the way in the surrounding woods, we chose to risk our lives by venturing deep into the city during the Galliard's moon. We slipped in through the mirror at the Glade in the city park and from there walked a great distance through the Scab. The buildings were tall, dark and wrapped up tight in the Weaver's web, her children looming over us from one roof top after the other, staring with cold, unfeeling red eyes. You could smell the wretched stench in the air and you -knew-, you /knew/ that everything you did was being watched, recorded... The enemy was out there, waiting for us to make a mistake, so that it could pounce and tear the skin off our white bones, devouring our souls for the dark Grandfather.~
Runner nods once in memory, eyes shifting from the gnarled arm to the Child galliard as she begins. She growls softly, her memory recalling that time.
~As we walked through the Scab, the buildings seemed to have a life of their own. You could feel the eyes upon the back of your neck, you can smell the toxin in the air, and you can hear the breath of life pulse throughout the Umbra. The sidewalks seemed to grow tighter and the bulidings loomed and seemed to close us in. Years of being contained in the web of the Weaver has rotted away the spiritual essence of these great concrete beasts and they bend and bowed, looking as if they could fall and topple any moment. The deeper we went, farther from the Glade, the colder it got. I remember at one point shivering as fear crept up the back of my spine. We are taught to not fear the mirror realm, but when you are knee deep in death, it is almost impossible to not give pause.~ Guards-The-Flame looms over Justin for a moment, claws stretched out, eyes wild, as if she was a building herself, making a light creaking noise in her throat before moving towards Circle Keeper, eyes upon him for a stray second, before moving to the next, Rags.
~As we passed an old, decrepid church, there was a loud shrieking, one that was so powerful it hurt the ears and made our teeth rattle.~ Leaping forward towards the Uktena, she lets out a loud shriek of her own, allowing it to rip free of her chest, before skulking once more around the fire, pacing. ~Our fur stood on end, we froze, and then quietly ventured towards the once house of God. Could this be it? Rags chance to defeat the enemy and prove his valor?~
Rifthealer settles herself back down, eating quietly as her eyes and ears remain focused on the story as she looks through the smoke of the fire.
Though he doesn't really have hackles in his Glabro, Kenneth clenches his jaw at the shriek imitation. The philodox curls his hand a little tighter around the snapped blade he holds, though not enough to draw blood.
Rags turns from Yi to watch Guards-Flame. At the shriek, he pulls back, and puts his hands over his ears, then slowly lowers his hands as he continues to watch the storyteller.
Circling around the fire once more, Guards-The-Flame waves the skeletal arm in the air. ~The Uktena warrior made his way towards an alley that occupied the dark Umbra church and sniffed about, but found nothing save a raccoon that plodded its way lazily out of a dumpster, staring at us with bright and yellow eyes. What could have caused such a powerful shriek?~ Pausing for a moment, she waits, almost as if searching for an answer amongst the group, before continuing. ~I made my way to the great doors of the church and kicked them open, ready for anything else what came at me. Bats! Hundreds of bats! They tore through fur and skin alike as they zipped over our heads, circling their way upwards in a powerful arc towards the belfry. Now, Gauntlet Runner and I had no clue what was going through Rags's head, but.. he did something stupid.~ She says with a smirk over towards the Uktena, then launches upwards with her free arm after snagging up a rock, hurling it over the tree tops of the Compound. ~Upon finding a stone on the ground, he sent it upwards and rang the bell of the church, which only angered the bats once more! They flew at us in numbers, shrieking as one so loud that we all went deaf!~
Rifthealer lolls her tongue as she imagines the sight of chaos, claws of one hand restlessly kneading the ground as though eager to have been there and seen such a sight, let alone hear it.
Runner eyes Rags sidelong out of the way, if only to pin him as the one who did it with her gaze. ~Wyrm's bats. Too big to be anything else,~ the Gnawer ragabash confirms with a low chuff.
Rags huffs, looking disagreeable with this part of the story. He starts, ~You went off by--~, then he shakes his head. ~At the time it seemed a good idea, to get them to come out.~ He drops silent, as his eyes drop to the ground.
Better late than never, right? Andy comes from the woods amid the gathered, purple eyes flickering oddly in the firelight. He comes oddly in homid considering he's on the bawn, but with not one but a pair of rather sinister tusks slid into belt-loops of his pants at his sides like a pair of swords. He's also barechested, his shirt nowhere to be found.
~Idiot! I thought to myself, and I possibly screamed it at the time too, but my voice was lost to my then dead ears. We swiped at the bats, tried to bite them with our claws, but to no avail, they climbed higher once more and fled into their church. Wisely, Rags to Rags did not pursue them and we continued on our journey, now down possibly the most important sense besides our eyes, our own hearing.~ Scowling, Guards-The-Flame shoots the Uktena a look with her eyes, before heaving out a loud breath.
~As we continued, we noticed a building that was suddenly lit up when it wasn't before. Taking a chance, we decided to venture within in, carefully. Uktena first, followed by the Gnawer, then I, taking up the rear. We noticed first the door was covered in bars as was the windows and thus, we decided to sneak in through one of those. With a strong jerk, the window came free and we once more journeyed into the unknown. The hallways smelt of death and there were many rooms without doors. In each one sat a single person, staring unblinkingly at a television with flickering lights and no images. There were dog bowls set up with pieces of dung and diseased food waiting. Odd. Where -were- we?~ She asks, shrugging her shoulders upwards, arms out at her sides. ~I have never seen such a place, at least, not from the Umbra. It wasn't until we got a few hallways deeper, did we realize. We were at the prison here in St. Claire's. Each person was a prisoner. With jaws agape and eyes staring blankly, it seemed that they had no souls of their own. Just empty, dead husks. Rags to Rags touched one to get its attention and it broke apart and turned to dust. After that, we felt vibrations approaching from the outside.. Something was coming.. a lot of somethings.~
Kenneth continues to listen, eyes narrowing to about halfway. When Andy comes tromping in and shirtless, the Shadow Lord turns to look at the incoming Fang for just a moment before returning attentions to the storytelling.
The Rite Mistress bristles at the horrible images painted in words. Black and white fur prickles up on end as she folds back her ears, the corners of her mouth tugging back in a grim expression.
Slinking out of the surrounding forest, Ladder-Climber pads in quietly, her lupus form tucked away amongst the night's shadows. Seeing that she's come late, she wordlessly lays down at the edge of the gathering, listening to the story with interest, ears perked forward.
~We stood about with deaf ears, unable to hear a damn thing. We could not communicate to each other, save pointing and motioning. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.~ The Child of Gaia speaks as she points to one Garou after another. ~Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. The seconds counted by slowly as we waited in fearful anticipation. What was to come through that door? What evil could lurk within the Umbral halls of the prison here, where surely the worst of the worst has come to rot.~ There is a tightening in her throat for a moment, before moving on in the story.
~The door burst open and through it charged a husk of a human, wearing a dark blue suit. Its face was horrific, wrinkled, much like a troll's would be, and it had a gruesome smile carved into its features. His eyes glowed, like a pair of embers. It was as tall as most in our Glabro!~ She admits, motioning with her hands to show how high. ~It moved fast, first bashing the Gnawer across the face with what appeared to be a billy club. In its frog like mouthed perched a silver whistle, and even though we could not hear it, we were sure he was calling for back up!~
Waving the skeletal arm about, she comes an inch from clobbering Gauntlet Runner, before growling tight in her throat. ~Rags to Rags lept into action, driving a wooden talen dagger into the chest of the beast! With such power, his entire fist sank in and out its back! For a moment.. everything was still, until the Wyrm beast started struggling, using claws to dig deep into the Uktena's face and tear away at it. From there, a vicious battle of life and death happened and it seemed that this thing was more than a match for the hopeful Fostern.~
Runner growls fully now, a clawed hand touching around her cheek. A curse is spat out from the ragabash, meant for the supposed dead spirit. She eyes between Alicia and Reggie.
Rifthealer leans in as the story rises to a battle, eyes growing wider as the Theurge listens intently.
Rags notices the two arrivals with a quick glance of his eyes, then focuses on the story, as though it's life or death to him now, not back then.
Andy reaches down and grasps his pair of tusks by the bases and shifts wordlessly into crinos. Warform attained he rolls his shoulders once and crosses his arms low, allowing the offensive lengths of bone to curl around his sides. Otherwise he keeps to himself and remains among the gathered, listening.
~Blow for blow, Rags to Rags and the monster battled it out to the floor as the Gnawer and I watched as per instructions to the challenge. We were not to get involved, that was until the tide of the battle shifted and more of them followed through the entry way. As the Uktena warrior was distracted, another tried to bludgeon him with its club, but I was too quick for it!~ Guards-The-Flame proudly announces as she puffs up her chest some. ~Gauntlet Runner, like any good pack mate, was at my side! As I went high, she went low and together, we tore into it and sent it back to the hell it came from!~ Howling out in victory, she thrusts her fist high in the air for a moment, reveling herself in full glory, before her body drops back once more into story teller's mode.
~Sadly, our victory was met swiftly to an end as two more creatures came through the door. It was obvious now, we were taking on the entire corrupted police force by ourselves! As my back was turned to the door, unable to hear who was approaching, Gauntlet Runner saves my life as she tackles the pair of them by herself, forcing them out into the hallway, where even -more- of these bastards came! By then, Rags to Rags had the advantage, /finally/, but not without missing a good deal of his fur and flesh. He was pounding the face of his monster into the floor boards, over and over again, and then.. /finally/ yanking its arm free!~ With that, she thrusts it forward for everyone to see, waving the bone once more back and forth.
Runner also howls out fiercely in almost uncharacteristic nature of the ragabash, but she revels in the telling of the story. The story continues and she snarls at the waving bone.
Rifthealer wrinkles her nose and bares her teeth at the appendage and its disgusting, horrific story, growling deep and rattling in her chest.
Guards-Flame says, ~Out in the hallway, Gauntlet Runner and I fought for our lives and fight we did! With more room to spare, we showed those fuckers why the two of us are invincible when together! One after the other fell beneath Resonance's mighty claws!~ Guards the Flame roars out once more with pride in her voice, her eyes catching the fire light once more. ~Stag's mighty sisters were not to die that night, and we slowed down the enemy enough for Rags to Rags to come barreling out the room, limping, but proudly the victor. As more and /more/ of the enemy barrled down the hallway, tripping over the bodies of their fallen comrades, we decided it was time to flee. We ran for our lives, using what left of the beast in our hearts to guide our movements faster. Where was that window at?!~ She asks, her voice panicing for a moment, before settling confidence again. ~There it was! In the distance and we could smell the stench of the city oozing from it. At that moment, that stench was the most wonderful scent to my nose. It meant freedom! It meant us getting out of this vile building of Wyrm corrupted justice!~
One by one we dived out, our massive bodies breaking the concrete away as if it was plaster and tumbling to the ground. Not once did we look back, we just ran and -ran-. Rags got his prize and there was no other need to threaten our lives, especially not over a lost cause. We ran until our lungs hurt, we ran until our legs gave out! And we ran until the safety of the Glade was upon us.~ Panting from the story, she wheezes out, as if she was tired herself from the run once more, then says. ~That is Rags to Rag's story, and even though he does not stand among us as Fostern, the glory of that night will always be remembered. Here is to many more scars, trophies and stories! Here is to the Hidden Walk!~ With that, she turns and launches the arm into the fire, watching the bone catch and blaze as the ritual flame burns a myraid of colors, before calming once more.~
Circle Keeper listens attentively to the story, looking at times like his attention is beginning to drift elsewhere but never actually looking away. He pops off his haunches, tail drifting behind him as he sniffs in Reggie's direction rather uselessly.
Rags howls as the story ends, fire transforming bone to ashes. ~To the Hidden Walk!~
Runner howls out wildly again, the Gnawer looking pumped by the story and snapping her jaws to cut off the end of it. ~Well told!~ she barks to her packsister, eyes dancing at the three involved in that story.
Rifthealer throws up her head in a singing howl of praise and excitement. ~Though rank was not won, the battle was well fought in Gaia's name! Glory to those who's claws cut deep.~
Though he doesn't join with the howls, Kenneth waits along the side until the calls have died down. Then he pushes up to his feet, shifting once more to the Crinos. The Shadow Lord's shoulder bears a still healing wound, but he doesn't seem bothered by it. The blackish burned blade, which he brought, is lifted for all to see. ~Pierces-the-Ice was in the Scab one night, in territory that Bloods-Bane and I patrolled, though our Alpha, Thunder's-Forge, was slain.~ Dagger's-Edge growls his prelude, and then snorts. ~It was after I brought a Fury by the name of Penelope Night's-Daughter to Signe Defiant-Storm-rhya's house. She had a message to which I did not stay to hear. It was private anyway. Stone-Spirit too, was around. Together we did a quick run of the wharf sector - one of the foulest places of the city that is ruled by the Wyrm.~
Settling herself down once more, Guards-The-Flame sits next to her pack and attunes her ears to Kenneth's story, listening patiently.
Dagger's-Edge continues, ~We saw a garbage truck roll by. Unnatural. Garbage trucks don't run that late at night, and it was before the time for graveyard shifts, so we followed it. Longer we surveyed it, the more we saw something was up. There was crying coming out of that truck. The driver got out, rooted around and took one of the bags into this warehouse, which gave us the opportunity to look around in the truck. Sure, the guy had an excuse when we questioned him, but we waited until he was definitely inside before looking through his vehicle. Then we found this bag that had a girl in it. She was bound and gagged, and there were... parts of her skin that were cut off. Stripped away by something sharp. This man was definitely sick in the head, or on his way towards being one. Bane-Bait, if I ever saw one.~
Rags finishes his howling, and directs, towards Guards-Flames, a ~Thank you. It was told well~. He turns to listen to the next story with uneasy poise.
Guards-Flame lifts her ears upwards and curiously tilts her head to one side as she chuffs in her throat. She looks pained for the girl's misery, a quiet rumble tumbling.
Dagger's-Edge says, ~The Wendigo led us, with Bloods-Bane and I acting as muscle and backup, and Stone-Spirit staying behind to give us light. We could barely even see, but the warehouse stunk worse than skunk roadkill on a hot summer day. We kept going in though, and kicked in another door that had a couple corpses hanging from meathooks, cut up but still recognizable as human. This guy was... probably eating people.~ The Shadow Lord's ears flatten back and a heavy growl rattles from him, the memory and associations that come with it causing disturbances.
Rifthealer drops her head below the level of her shoulders, drooping at the details of such pain the girl must have felt and snorting quietly at the descriptions of the dead.
Dagger's-Edge regains a bit of composure then, telling the story plainly as his nature. ~The guy was yelling at us to get out. Like hell we were. When we saw the guy again,he saw us - in our warforms. The man did not fear us. No Delirium whatsoever. In fact, he was /glad/ to see us, and muttered something about understanding whatever it was. He definitely had something wrong with him. It was too dark to see, but the man attacked me first. I shifted, laid into him with my claws but it was like striking a tree made of solid mud. This man had powers beyond that of human, for certain. The struggle was brief anyway. The Wendigo stabbed her huge knife into the man and slit his throat, and Bloods-Bane took his head almost right off. Either way, we killed this fomor. And this,~ the Shadow Lord rumbles with a toss of the half-burned blade into the rest of the trophies, ~is that guy's chopper. At least, I assume it to be, given only this blade remained something of evidence after we razed the building with cleansing fire.~
Guards-Flame lets out a loud growl in her throat as she shakes her head, nostrils flaring. ~The Wyrm is sick.~ She says with a flatten of her ears tightly to her head. ~Glory to Requiem and Jacinta of the Wendigo!~
Runner flares her nostrils and breathes in deep. At the galliard's howl, the ragabash raises her voice again. ~Glory to the fomor killers!~
Rifthealer again gives voice to a loud howl of praise, her voice summoning forth the next who would speak.
Fights-For-Hope joins wordlessly in the howl, raising to hispo to do so.
Circle Keeper howls his appreciation, readily, picking his hind end up to do so. His tail sweeps out behind him a few times as his jaw hangs open, obviously pleased with something. After a moment, though, his enthusiasm dies down and he lowers his butt to the ground again.
Dagger's-Edge tilts his muzzle once towards the others, and steps back to his previous spot. The Shadow Lord shifts down, assuming the hispo, and eases himself down to the ground.
Kills-Wisely joins the howl, a blazing, ~Glory!~ added in. He then steps up and looks about those gathered. The blackened tusk he placed in the fire still being scorched by the impressive heat. He kicks at the tusk as he looks around. ~It was earned from the massive Boar lost to the Wyrm, that I destroyed, but nearly was killed by. ~I must say, honestly, that I was in the dance of frenzy through most of that night. Despite the failings of a few,~ He shakes his head, but then perks up once more and looks up fiercely with his voice lifting to a nearly enraged state like he was back in the combat again, ~Foes fell before our might, the Bawn was safe, and I earned glory and scars along side my fellow warriors!~
Circle Keeper's attention perks, leaning forward to sniff in Michael's direction. The Uktena's all ears now, it seems.
Fights-For-Hope pages to the room: Uh, ignore that ~ in the middle there. Dunno why that's there.
Runner can't help but grin a little. ~Ahrouns,~ she pipes in as an explanation for such brevity. ~Glory to the warriors, death to the Wyrm's pigs!~
Rifthealer dips her head in agreement with her Ragabash pack mate, turning her eyes to Circle Keeper and gesturing him foreward.
Circle Keeper swaggers forward slowly, the Hispo lumbering along from his spot where he had sit to someplace more forward. The hispo reaches up with a hind food to scratch at his side as he stands there rather uneasy. This one is not a story knife. he finally states quite abruptly. No story knife was there to see it, though.
Rags chimes in, ~Glory!~, extending a clawed hand to the sky, ~The Wyrm cringes tonight at these stories.~
Circle Keeper's head tilts back jaw dropping down as he howls: It was moons ago, when the spirits moved this one to a far away hot place. The place was clean of the weaver and pure. This one did not know where he was, but he was far from the scab's filth. After that howl dies down, he sniffs slightly, licking either side of his muzzle.
Dagger's-Edge looks upon his packmate, growling a ~good job~ to the Wendigo. Ears swivel forward as the Shadow Lord watches Circle Keeper.
It's a moment before Circle Keeper starts again: Great-old wolf of his tribe, rich in wisdom, tells this one he pray to the spirits, asking them to bring one to aid him. He tells he this one he doubts this one's strength, but the spirits brought this one to him. The ahroun seems to lack enthusiasm for that part of the story, but who can blame him. However, the reverence that he uses to describe the tribal elder doesn't waver for even a moment.
Just the simple mention of spirits is enough to catch and hold the Rite Mistress' attention as she listens.
Circle Keeper's howl grows in intensity, more keen on this part: Great old-one wishes to do what is required to save his kin! Great Old-One cannot do this if he falls in battle. Great Old-One tells Circle Keeper to not let the banes stop him! The banes come for the Great Old-One, but this one does not let them! As that howl dies off, he pants for a moment, lowering his hind end to shove his front even further up and start with even more intensity: Three Scrags of the Horned Serpent came to stop the Great Old-One. Scrags yell to this one's rage, trying to make him frenzy, but this one will not frenzy. This one attacks scrag banes, putting spear through one like Sister-Alpha puts spears into seal!
Kills-Wisely growls and paws at the ground in thanks for the praise. He is now rapt in attention of Ciuraq's story.
Runner flattens her ears back, and yet the howl needs her full attention. ~Scrags,~ the ragabash breathes, ~And you survived against three?~
Circle Keeper's enthusiasm can hardly be contained, the howl being rushed at this point. Skilled story teller he isn't, though it doesn't seem like that's stopping him from giving it a swing. Scrags and this one fight, and Great Old-One does his work to save his kin! And then this one throws the scrags, not letting them stop the Great Old-One. He will not let Scrag banes win! And he fights and fights and then scrags pile on this one! But the Scrags are too late! Great Old One has won, and his kin are safe! Spirits return this one to Hidden Walk. Abruptly, the Guardian stops, cutting off the howl. He pants lightly, scratching at that same spot he was scratching at earlier. After a moment, he turns around and walks back to where he had sat earlier. Walking in a short pinwheel, he settles down to the ground. Apparently the story is over.
A fat-chested, scraggly wolf drudges her way towards the gathering, carrying with her the gritty sharp smell of the city, especially the lingering stink of gasoline. Fat-Ripper keeps to the trees, sniffing at the group in front of her with slow tosses of her head, uncertain of her place and unadvancing just yet. There's curiosity in her eyes, though, and the stiffness of her movements betray a nervous eagerness.
Rifthealer nods her head once, letting out a rolling chuff of a breath as she looks into the flickering flames she sits beside. ~Praise the powers of the spirits. May we only hope to understand part of their mystery.~
Runner howls loudly at the end of the story, calling for Glory to the Keeper-of-the-Circle.
Rags listens intently, as though memorizing the details, and he continues watching long after Circle Keeper's settling down. It's when Runner howls, that he breaks from his study, and adds his howl to hers. ~Glory!~
After the howls fade away again, the Gnawer ragabash steps up. The paper-covered ring is torn away, carefully, revealing a dried, whitish cartiledge beneath. It's wrapped in long, black hair and very worn leather strips. This she holds up for the Garou to see. ~In the month before I came to join my first pack many moons ago, I had the great honor of fighting alongside many of this sept's greatest heroes. Robert Peacekeeper, Warder of the Hidden Walk for longer than I have been here, ahroun of the Children of Gaia who gained such renown to rise to the fourth rank, called upon the Hidden Walk to recover the Caern of Gaia's Tears. This caern was warded by the Uktena, small at best compared to our sept. Rides-Fire had gotten word from a goose spirit, and his pack went north to search out the truth of it. That maybe, the Wyrm had taken the caern. The Garou of the Hidden Walk were determined not to let this stand.~
Dagger's-Edge glances up with the city scent, muzzle wrinkling with the smell of gasoline. A low rumble shakes within the Shadow Lord like distant thunder.
Guards-Flame listens carefully to the Gnawer as she perks her ears up once again. She is entertaining herself with a piece of meat, chewing away thoughtfully.
Rifthealer peels her lips back at the word of a caern in danger, growling faintly as she takes another strip of meat from the cooked stag suspended above a bed of coals.
~So many Garou, some gone from us in spirit, some gone from us now until they return, reborn from Gaia's breast. And some still here with us.~ Gauntlet-Runner regards Alicia. ~This was that long ago. You were Blooms-From-Her-Pain then, named so by Rags weren't you? And a cub. Time has flown on bird's wings indeed.~ She turns back. ~Peacekeeper-rhya told us, 'Fight to Subdue', in case there were Garou there who could still be saved. Wise of our Warder, as these days, Every Warrior is needed. Our fight that night was not to kill them, but to Combat the Wyrm where it was beginning to dwell. To prevent a caern from violation, as our laws state. And then, the moonbridge was opened by Persephone, another wise Black Fury.~
~When we reached our destination, it was clear the Garou of Gaia's Tears were surprised. But they were strange in their movements - all moved the same, as if they were with one mind. A Hive's mind.~ Runner pauses there, letting the implications sink in. ~Peacekeeper's tactics sent out four packs to both sides of the pool, and then howls of warning: 'Ware the Water! As our packs moved, so did the Tears of Gaia. Their Garou again as one, howled with rage: 'For Gaia! The bearers of the Impergium return! Kill them! For Gaia!' Gaia? Impergium? What were they howling on about?~ The ragabash questions aloud, looking around to the others as if asking for the answers. ~Why was this? What happened here that brought our two forces to clash in battle? It is unknown to me.~
Circle Keeper's hind legs push him forward, moving forward enough to get a better sight of the other in the darkness.
Runner lifts her free hand up, counting off with each digit those she can remember. ~The Get of Fenris pack struck with all the fury of their tribe. Chaser-Never-Rests, Kyle Thunder-Eater, Owen Lion's-Roar who some of you might remember as Wildfire, and Kristof the Mule completely wiped out the first of the strange-minded Garou of Gaia's Tears.~ She looks to the Get that have gathered for tonight's rite, then the other tribes' Garou. ~Beware the fury of the Fenrir in the heat of battle, for they are warriors with little mercy. My own pack: Peacekeeper, Adam Dies-For-Others another Child of Gaia, Leonard Brings-the-Buffalo-Home of the Wendigo and myself, witnessed our Warder's gift that completely struck three other defenders in awe, rendering them mindless with only the words and spirit of Gaia. Chiaroscuro, the pack of dark and light under Raven, ran with the strength of our now retired Sept Alpha Megan Firewatcher, Tecmessa the Balancer, and Agatha another Fury cliath. They took the other side of the pool with Final Strike, the Cougar pack, whose warriors included Steven Heart-of-Fury, Rides-the-Wave-of-Fire the Stargazer, Shadow-of-Blood, a Red Talon, and Ethan Finds-the-Lost, the Get ragabash. They too, soon tore into their targets with rage and determination to save this caern.~
Guards-Flame tilts her head as she listens quietly, feeling the fur rise on the back of her neck. She huffing out a breath, she seems captivated by her pack mate's words.
Fat-Ripper remains at the treeline though she creeps closer by inches. There's respect in her posture for the rite in progress, casual though it may be in its way, and there's a great interest in the story her tribemate is telling; but more than anything else there's an intense and earnest interest in whatever is over the fire, and on the wonderful smell that reaches along the breeze. There's just one word in the throttled, nearly silent whine she gives out: Food. She keeps where she is though, paws scraping impatiently against the ground, in respect for the ceremony and the story.
~Then, my then-soon-to-be packmate Brings-Buffalo looked to the waters of the Tears' lake and saw horror. A huge tentacle the size of a crinos' chest, horned and spiked nearly struck him. Then we knew what was wrong. The Garou of Gaia's Tears howled out at the sight of the monster rising out of the lake: 'Gaia has come!' But this, brothers and sisters, was No Way close to Gaia.~ Runner leaps for Circle Keeper, and swipes down her free hand forcefully, stopping well before she actually strikes him. ~One strike of its tentacle shattered boulders into dust.~ She retreats, back to the relative storytelling circle's center. ~And even I felt the rage boil up in me, and struck at one of the foul monster's limbs. I can still remember the feeling of it wrapping around me, with sharp teeth gnashing, and smell and feel the boiling white acid that it spit.~
Guards-Flame jerks her head upwards as the storyteller swipes towards the Uktena, seemingly pulled out of a trance of sorts. Her eyes widen, growling deep in her chest as she rises up to all fours.
Circle Keeper jerks forward toward the ragabash as she suddenly leaps in his direction, teeth bared and tail suddenly stuck out into the air like a panhandle. Teeth bared, he doesn't look like he liked that a whole lot, but he stops from actually doing anything further. High strung Ahroun on a big moon, anyone?
Just like tempting fate, Runner uses the energy and tension of the air, eyes flashing around as she paints the scene from memory. ~We saw only the monster's limbs, but then the monster reared its head. I could barely see it at first, but such a creature is too monstrous to be forgotten. It was made of cougar, snake and stag, melted together with more beast than I could count. All its eyes, dead and decaying were white as a dying fish's.. yet somehow alive! Around its neck, those stag's antlers grew like a collar of spines and dripped all over with slime. And from all its mouths it screamed. It moaned and roared like a furious cougar, whined and hissed like an insidious serpent, and bellowed in mad song with the pain and madness of all the hunted stag in the world. screaming with pain and madness! And its limbs. Two huge tentacles with mouths to feed upon any that were unfortunate to be caught by this tainted version of what we know of Uktena.~
Rifthealer bristles madly from head to tail, muscles tense as though expecting such a monster to rear up from the flames of the fire and consume them all.
Dagger's-Edge feels his hackles arc and stand, despite his attempts to appear calm. The deliberately aborted hit towards the Guardian brings the Shadow Lord's attention to a peak.
Guards-Flame snarls loudly at the mention of the tainted Uktena, starting to pace back and forth.
Runner then starts to circle madly around the fire, mimicking roles of the fight. ~When the Garou of Gaia's Tears were no longer the threat, the four packs turned and fought this monster. It spit acid, gored some of the Garou with its fang-filled mouths, and somehow we fought on.~ The Gnawer roars with a call of glory and battle, depicting somehow in great detail (and yet little exaggeration) the fight of the Garou between the Uktena parody. The fight moves from pack to pack, some holes in between as the Gnawer was herself fighting and did not see all the action. Talk of healing during the battle, and returning to fight. Talk of the amazing and powerful Gifts of the warriors, and how they put them to use - Grandmother's Touch, Luna's Armor, Razor Claws, Spirit of the Fray... all of it like magic and power that only the Garou are privy to.
And then, ~The monster could not last long against four packs of the strongest warriors of the Hidden Walk. It gave its final dying wail from all its mouths as before - the scream of a demon-fairy.~ The ragabash cries out in imitation, rather good at that, the sound like a screeching howl that warbles with a hint of madness that seems too much like a Black Spiral Dancer's call at first, but then dies off. ~It fell. The monster was dead, and disappeared into the sky, forcefully returned to Gaia. It left but only these rings of soft bone. I returned with one of these, as you see, but also some items from those we killed that night. That, you see is this hair and skin wrapped around this circle rib of bone. I offer these up to Gaia now, in hopes that we will slay many more of these monsters and save those who can be. We are the last caern in this area, but we will never again fall!~ Howling out once more, this time with her own pure voice of defiance, the ragabash hurls the trophy into the fire. ~Glory to the Hidden Walk!~
~Glory to the Hidden Walk!~ Howls Guards-The-Flame at the end of the story, tilting her chin upwards as her fur puffs out, back arching.
Rifthealer throws her head up, giving voice to loudest and most powerful howl thus far tonight, crying out praise to the power Gaia grants her loyal children.
Rags back his lips in a silent growl at the mention of a tainted Uktena, then, as the story ends, he exclaims, ~Glory to the Hidden Walk!~
Dagger's-Edge roars out as well, howl mixed with those of his packmates as Requiem affirms defiance in the face of the Wyrm.
Fat-Ripper creeps into the actual clearing now, not joining the howl but taking part at least in some way in the revelling of it. It makes her walk straighter, prouder. She rises into Homid, and she straightens her greasy coat against the growing nip of autumn, and scratches at a flea-pecked scalp, looking around at everyone to try and pick up the rhythms of what's going on.
Circle Keeper, likewise, doesn't seem to pleased with the mention of the tainted Uktena, but it's hard to tell if he's still just riled up from Yi's faux-strike. He finally settles his butt back onto the earth. It doesn't remain there for long, the bloodied ahroun shoving to his paws once more. Instead of pacing forward, though, he rears up onto two legs, shifting into Crinos. The Uktena makes shifting look easy. Leaning on the bloodied weapon, his voice calls out clearly: ~The bawn was attacked today by four possessed two-leggers.~ He growls out. ~They were not fomor, but bore Wyrm spirits in their vessel. I killed three of them, and Howls for Glory killed one.~ The Ahroun pauses a tick, before adding louder. ~This is the second attack the Hidden Walk has repelled while Luna shows her story face. Be alert for more!~
Runner doesn't look in any way guilty for her feint, but arcs her muzzle up sharply with the brief announcement/story. She barks once, indicating her alertness to the ahroun's warning.
Olga listens to Circle Keeper warily, mouth slightly opened, unsure. This, evidently, is news to her. It takes her a couple seconds to step forward, occupied as she is with these other thoughts, but finally she shuffles out over the grass until she's not quite in the circle anymore, and she clears a dry throat with a low demure smoker's cough. "Hey everybody," she says slowly, gravel-voiced, head bowed but eyes up, making her place pretty clear. "Sorry I got here late and all. Sorry I missed all the great stories and stuff. Sorry I missed the performance of your Rite, 'Kota," she says, with a glance towards the young Hispo. "But I'm here now so I gotta tell my story. It's not really much. Isn't really any glory to it but it's what just happened, so there you go, eh? Couple days ago four guys - just dumb assholes, not fomori, not Dancers, not tentacle-monsters - they broke into the back of the Odeon with gas cans and matches. We heard 'em, thank Gaia, and went in and scared three of them off, but the fourth was some sort of pyro or something. He coated me with the junk and lit a match. The whole place would've gone up if weren't for Basil: I wasn't thinking too clear, I just beat the maniac six new holes, broke his arm and the match went flying, and Bas did this whole diving Jackie Chan thing and managed to snatch it. Whole place would've gone up, otherwise. We beat the guy's ass seven different shades of blue and then tossed him in the back alley, alive, 'cause we didn't need the cops coming looking. Like I said, wasn't any big thing, but we kept the Sacred Veil up and nearly had our whole turf torched, and we got our trophy out of it, and I's told that's what we needed, so," she says, voicing turning to mumbles, face reddened by fire and chagrin, fumbling a couple slips of green out of her pocket as she shuffles towards the trophy fire. "It's just $20 we got off the kid, is all," she says apologetically as she tosses it in. "No big thing."
Circle Keeper waits a moment after he finishes before turning, starting to slip quietly (comparatively) off to the Caern like he had mentioned earlier.
Guards-Flame tilts her head towards Olga and lets out a whruff in her direction, flipping her tail side to side. Good luck was on your side.
Runner stares at Olga. Just stares. The story is, apparently, news to her. A snarl works its way out of the ragabash, deep and full of evident fury. ~Who was it?~ she demands. ~What did he look like?~
Rifthealer narrows her eyes as she regards the Gnawer Theurge. ~I expect the smell of him is covered over by the gas. Pity. Do you have anything left of him, I would aid in tracking him down.~
Olga heads back to her place just slightly beyond the edge of the gathering, shoulders slightly hunched, eyes focused on her destination. Yi's question seems to pull her at least a bit from her self-consciousness. "Just some rich stupid kid," Olga answers, dismissively. "Slummin' it, making mischief. He was uptown, wasn't from around us, we couldn't find him again, no chance of it. Nothing to be done about it."
Smells-Of-Fruit remains to the side, watching quietly in lupus, laying down with his head resting on his paws.
Runner doesn't seem very satisfied, with her ears slipping back into her fur. Claws curl, and she snorts. 'Nothing to be done' just doesn't sit with her.
Rifthealer rises up, standing tall in her Crinos form as she swings an arm to point with a curving claw at the pile of broken carcasses of toads. ~Some of you may have heard the story, others may not have. What began as a normal evening last night erupted into one filled with chaos. Guards-the-Flame and I walked the forests just off of the northern edge of our bawn, when we crossed paths with the cubs Tabitha and Basil, and the Glass Walkers Skip Tracer and Shades-of-Grey. We were interrupted by sounds, sounds like the fall of rain but there was not a cloud in the sky. It came closer and closer, but still there was no source. Closer still, and then in our path broke free a toad. My senses wary, I sought out any sign of the Wyrm and it was there, upon -that- seemingly normal frog. Sheeaghan found us as we slew the frog, but it would not be the only enemy we fought but the first.~
Smells-Of-Fruit perks as a story he knows and was actually part of starts. His ears shift forward a bit more and watches closely.
Rifthealer begins to circle the pile of warty, rendered carcasses, her hackles rising. ~The forest grew silent, as soundless as the depth of winter when all life has fled. And then the sound came once more, the sound of rain that was not rain but the footfall of countless toads, each as Tainted as the last and headed for the bawn! The battle was fierce, several of us flying into Frenzy though the young Walker cub suffered worse, plunging deep into Thrall. Alerted by our howls of warning, others came. Circle Keeper came, as did my brother Finds-the-Path, the Get cub Ladder-Climber, Bug, as well as Justin. The frogs were quickly slain in all, with only Shades-of-Grey being injured to care for the Thralled cub. Guards-the-Flame led the charge to find the source of this Taint, others returned to the caern, while Shades-of-Grey and myself took the unconscious Tabitha to safety. It was then Justin found me. My aid was needed, the source had been found.~ Turning to face Smell-of-Fruit, the Rite Mistress gestures with a talon towards him. ~Let me say now this young Silver Fang is to be commended, for though he did not battle, it was him who carried all of the messages and precious time would have been lost without him and perhaps more Garou blood would have been shed that night than need be.~
Dagger's-Edge listens as well, as a story that applies much more recently is told. The Shadow Lord tunes in for details that he missed.
Olga retakes her place, settling down into a hunch. Gauntlet-Runner's opinion is observed but not reacted to; she watches Dakota with interest and muddied thoughts.
Rifthealer continues to stalk around the toads, claws flexing as she growls. ~I made sure Tabitha was secure before I ran back from this very spot to the scene of battle and past, following him to a pond thick with taint. Those who had ran ahead were gone, so I followed them across the Gauntlet to find a battle raging against Banes half snake and half frog. Dagger's Edge and Walks-the-Middle-Road were there alongside Guards-the-Flame and Skip Tracer, and I joined in the battle. Four of these Banes were slain before we returned, bleeding from our fight. The battle done, those remaining assisted me with the Cleansing rituals of the pond, the battle site, these slain creatures, and finally I returned to Cleanse Tabitha of the taint she had injected in her Thrall. The war against the Wyrm is not over, but at least this battle we won.~ Her story done, the Mistress of Rites returns to her place beside the fire.
Smells-Of-Fruit seems unsure what to make of the praise exactly. He seems happy, but not overly prideful and gives a nod of his head. His wolf language is lacking but the general gist of it seems to be that he was glad to be of help and is glad no one perished. But he does nothing to take attention from the story, more only if people are looking at him already would they notice.
Dagger's-Edge rumbles again at the part of where he and Walks-Middle came in, glancing passingly at his injured shoulder. Another glance is sent towards the Fang cub, along with a sniff. Still, the halfmoon looks back to the ritemistress and notes, ~Respect to you, for your ability to continue performing rites after this many.~
Rifthealer turns her eyes towards the Shadow Lord, a smile showing in her expressions. ~I thank you, but I could not have done it without aid. You have the knowledge now, use it wisely.~
Runner tilts her head, focused upon the story her packmate tells. When it is over, the ragabash's eyes stray to the frog carcasses, and her muzzle wrinkles. A snort of disgust is sent to the amphibians, and she nods at the Coggie theurge. ~Must have been a pain to cleanse.~
Rifthealer gives her new moon packmate a wicked, toothy grin. ~The Wyrm was driven from them so thoroughly I swore I saw the frogs sprout wings of white.~ Her tone and posture indicate a joke, at least in the wings department. None of them show signs of feathered appendages.
Dagger's-Edge twitches his ears at the thought, mildly amused.
Olga keeps her sit at the edge of the gathering, almost hiding there, folded in on herself. She listens to the banter with a sense of expectation, hands on her knees, eyes on the fire and on the food, waiting.
Guards-Flame settles upon her haunches once more and tilts her head over to her pack mates, then to the rest of the Sept that has gathered. She has been quiet for some time now, but appreciative of the stories.
Smells-Of-Fruit sits up now, looking more alert as he glances around, taking in what seems to be the winding down of things.
For hours more, the stories continue. Some of great battles, others small. Some come to a close with happy endings, but most still have a deep sense of grief. Tears are shed, the Beast is roused, and laughs fill the air. Garou come and go, listening at the edges to stories and celebration as food and water is passed around, all reflecting on times gone past and those yet to come. Luna goes on her passage through the sky, finally dipping deep into the western sky as washes of rose begin to touch the east. Not missing the approach of dawn, Rifthealer rises to her feet once more with arms outstretched. ~Brothers and sisters, Luna prepares to pass from the sky as Helios rises to light our way in the day to come. Look upon these trophies gathered and remember their stories, find the wisdom in each word spoken and remember that it is by the grace of Luna, Helios, and Gaia that we survive and grow ever stronger to one day slay the Wyrm in its very nest.~
Runner rises to her paws again, sniffing the air as dawn looks to break on the horizon. She howls brightly with energy remustered at the ritemistress' words. ~Come on, sleepyheads. Up on your feet! Let us greet the Sun and outshine him with our howls and fire!~
Rifthealer walks back to the small fire she has been guarding all night and takes up a carved staff, tied with a large mesh bundle full of what seems to be bits of various, darkly colored and powdery crystals. It ignites in a plume of spiced smoke when it touched the flames. Holding it high, she raises her head and gives voice to a thunderous howl that raises straight up to the sky. ~Praise to our Mother, praise to our Sister of the Night and Brother of the Day, may they never forsake us as we give our tears, our blood, and our lives for them in the hopes of peace! May our offering prove that we do not fear that they are our last, and as our stories have carried us through this night may Gaia carry us through many more in the long, dark nights to come. Raise your voices, Garou of the Hidden Walk, for tonight we celebrate the Glory earned and the Glory yet to come, sure as the dawn rises!~ The torch is thrust deep into the heart of the trophies and frogs, striking something deep inside that makes the whole mass surge up in tongues of red and gold flame, quickly being consumed by the fire's hunger and quickly being reduced to little more than pale, grey ash.
Still bright and perky, Guards-The-Flame rises up into her Hispo form and starts to howl loudly to greet lord Helios in the sky. Her fur is bushed out and her ears perk high. Her song rises upwards in full force as she arches her back and bays to the warmth that falls from the sky.
Smells-Of-Fruit eagerly joins the howls, his voice joining the chorus of voices mixing in with the melody as the night starts to give way to the day.
Dagger's-Edge reluctantly pushes himself up with the rest of the Garou that rise, looking rather tired but awake. As howls fill the air, the Shadow Lord sucks in a deep breath and belts out a final wolfsong, deepened by the resonance in his hispo form.
Forath-Ripper, along with Kills Wisely and Power-Up join in alongside Dagger's-Edge as the war pack's voices cry out in a dangerous thrum. Though they are not Galliards, together, they create quite a symphony that promises war and destruction to come.
As the night lingers on Olga's eyelids fall further and further down across her lids, until by the end she can barely keep them open. The journey from the city was long and it's taken a lot out of her. Her energy comes surging back with the end of the Rite but still it's got a certain weary edge to it. She takes her Hispo form and howls out, the sound coming sluggishly but with force, like thick liquid from a bottle, until it trails off into solitary drips.
As the howls of the Garou rise in a symphony of Glory, the sun breaks over the line of the trees and casts the world in a rich golden light, burnishng the coats of the wolves of all forms as red and orange as the fire burns. Luna's last light is banished from the sky as Helios begins his reign, promising one of the last days of warmth before the snows will come and the Garou will hunt with frost on their whiskers and ice making their fangs and claws sharp. Heals-the-Rift continues her song, long and loud and filled with the eerie melody of the spirits until her lungs can expend no more air and she breaks off, eyes turning to face the fire as it finishes licking the remains off of the offerings. ~The Rite is finished. May we all go forth ready for the battles to come. May Glory come to us all, in Gaia's name we sing.~
~For now, sleep needs to come first!~ Jokes Guards-The-Flame with a loud yip, before yawning in a rather lupine fashion, jaws splitting wide.
Dagger's-Edge couldn't agree more, as the galliard's yawn is echoed in his own. When things are done, the Shadow Lord gets back up and starts off into the woods. His shoulder contains significantly less of a limp, but is still stiff.
Back | Next | 2005 Logs | Main