08-09-2007 : ONS: Recharge The Weaver

ONS: Recharge The Weaver

8/9/2007

03:04 PM
Logfile from GarouMUSH.

Currently the moon is in the waning Crescent Moon phase (26% full).
It is currently 14:59 Pacific Time on Thu Aug 9 2007.
Currently in Saint Claire, it is a cloudy day. The temperature is 63 degrees Fahrenheit (17 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from the west at 5 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 30.05 and steady, and the relative humidity is 60 percent. The dewpoint is 49 degrees Fahrenheit (9 degrees Celsius.)

[NOTE: Since the old Caern Clearing umbral room desc was out of date, the one seen below is rewritten by myself.]

Umbra: Edge of the Caern Clearing
The western edge of the caern clearing juts up against the valley's rim and leads towards the inner bawn. Mammoth, old growth trees thrive with renewed luster sparkling off their leaves. The glade children have returned, encouraging the area's flora to grow lush and thick whilst windy airt cavort over the the tips of the blades and flutter through the leaves. Nearer to the caern located down the cliffside path, the earth shines with refreshed vigor, though some might note with decidedly less strength than in times past.
Further to the east across the landscape lies the heart of the caern, and the pathstone pulses visibly in the distance with a soft ethereal glow, providing a backdrop for the Lunes that dance off the moonlight. To the west, the massive forest begins all too suddenly like a guard of silent sentinels, stretching away into the distant, darkly mysterious scenery.
Two faint pathways lead in opposite directions. One leads eastward through the tall grass to the center of the Caern, and the other westward into the Umbral forest.
Contents:
Chris (Shit-Storm), Mick (Generous), Kevin (Power-Up)
Obvious exits:
Clearing Center Woods

The Penumbral landscape is darker than on most nights when Luna's eye is more awake. Like the nature of the auspice which thrives under this moon, the spirit world seems to hold even more secrets, even more mysteries with every shadow being passed holding ripe possibilities of what spirits lay slumbering - or awake and watching. Out further on to the bawn, as the cubs and their teacher continue their journey, the landscape still pulses with a power of /real/ Reality. Things are alive, unlike in the Realm. The very air that plays through their fur holds silent voices in the airts that tickle their ruffs. The grass beneath their feet dances in concert between their pawpads. This is the Umbra, where Gaia's heart beats in circulation. Like the extremeties of a body, though, the feeling of the caern's power gradually fades the further they are from the bawn. The spirit wards have weakened, and on this slim a moon, to venture beyond the caern's heart is a risk to take in gambling for an adventure.

Power-Up has shifted into crinos the moment he made it across the barrier separating the real from the spiritual, and commanded the cubs to do the same. ~The moon is low for an umbra trip,~ he comments, ~but if we stay on the bawn all should be well. I shall show you the city umbra at next full moon.~

Even before venturing across into the spirit world, Shit-Storm had taken crinos. ~Low moon or not, it feels amazing to be out here again.~ The young werewolf states, his tail lashing behind him eagerly as he stalks along behind Kevin, sniffing at the living air and revelling in every new sensation, experience and feeling that this mysterious realm brings.

As adventured beckoned, Generous was glad to heed the call. His first trip in the Umbra, and the cub looks very much like a war veteran walking through the jungles of Vietnam, looking around him like something is about to jump him without warning. ~I never thought it would look like this. Thank you, Power-up, for taking us here. But why does everything look twisted?~

~It just does,~ is all Power-Up can say to explain. ~I will be the first to admit I do not understand the Umbra. But one does not need to know how a car works to drive it. Just be on guard. Even this close to the caern there may be danger.~

~What sort of danger, Power-Up-rhya?~ Shit-storm asks eagerly, looking almost keen to get some sort of action. He too is glancing around constantly, alert like Mick- but at the same time more relaxed. A little more used to the strange mirror of the world that is the penumbra. ~Things we can splat, or things that could splat us?~

~Thank you for warning me advance we might meet things that could splat us~ is Generous' near nonplussed remark. Somehow this realm felt alien. ~And I always wanted to know how things worked.~

So on the bawn the Walker trio stays, exploring within the relative safety (or curse) of knowing there's a caern in a matter of minutes of outright sprinting away. The trees themselves feel as though they are watching them. Every leaf, every rock. A black shadow moves, teasing just at the corners of their perceptions. Then a sudden flutter, and it manifests into a raven that circles around their heads twice, and flaps off towards the northwest in utter silence. That eerie quiet continues on even as they move. That's not so much out of the ordinary, at least for the one cliath amongst the cubs. The sharp ears of the crinos around though, catch a vague, faint noise coming from the direction where the raven-spirit flew off to, brought along on the backs of the wind spirits. Sounds like termites. Or, perhaps, a babbling brook.

~We must patrol here as well as the realm,~ Power-Up explains. ~You will not be an adult garou until you are at ease here. Well... at least as much at ease as I am.~ As the raven spirit flaps overhead, Power-Up cocks his ear after it. ~Strange,~ he remarks. ~Do you hear something over yonder?~

~Yes, yes I do.~ Shit-storm nods to his teacher. ~Sounds like a stream.. Are there actual streams over on this side?~ He pauses, then a grin appears on his lupine muzzle. ~Makes me want to mark my territory, that noise.. Should we check it out?~

~I do clearly hear something, Power-up-rhya. Do you think it's calling for us?~ Naturally, Generous didn't miss the raven flying overhead, almost surprised to see it here. ~Does it lead away from the Bawn?~

~We should investigate. Stay close behind,~ Power-Up commands, and starts to head towards that odd, termity, scratchy noise.

Shit-Storm lopes along behind Power-up, his fur bristling with ill-concealed excitement.

Generous follows the duo, still glancing around as if ready for something to go spectacularly wrong.

The sound continues to play, being one of the few audible in the relative silence of the Umbra. It accompanies its brethren of tracks with the grating noise that mimics a creaking door or unoiled hinge. As the raven-spirit has flown off with relative speed faster than that of the crinos trio, it is gone from view as they move. Still, along the way they come across a few odd sights. Along the trees as they move, gossamer strands of webbing glimmer amidst the branches. Here and there, bigger globules stick to the trees or hang from the branches like spores of white cotton candy. The grinding sound gets louder, and definitely puts to rest the theory of it being that of liquid. This sound is more mechanical. More like the grind of chitin against itself. And there's also the sounds of screeching - thin though that sound is - and fluttering not too far away. The only disadvantage is the darkness of the Umbra, obscuring what might be producing that sound from view.

Power-Up slows down, looking very uneasy, his ears flicking up and down. ~This is wrong. Perhaps we should fetch the guardians... or perhaps there is a threat we must take care of immediately.~

~Boss, we got spiders or some shit like that here?~ Shit-storm asks of Power-up with a cocked head. ~Is this wyrm-stuff? Or weaver weirdness?~ He moves a little closer to one of the globules, leaning down to study it more intently- while his ears scan for any approaching threat. ~I don't want no dumb bug spoiling my umbral jaunt..~

Generous looks around him and has a good idea of what might be going on. That is, as far as he knows the alien world of the Umbra and what lurks within. ~It must be a wyrm creature. Power-Up, maybe we can take a closer look and then decide?~

As Shit-Storm has a closer look at one of the globs, he can see its rather intricately woven structure. There are a few holes through it, but largely the pattern woven acts like a miniature window screen with very small outlets. Inside is nothing but a small glow that masks any solid outlines. Then just as the group comes to a halt, there is a brief cease in the grinding sound.

Power-Up's head jerks as the sudden silence is heard. Or not heard, as one might say. ~Very well,~ he tells Generous. ~But EXTREME caution.~ He slides down into hispo form and proceeds on four legs for the sake of greater quietness.

~Not wyrm, Generous.. Look at the web. Ordered. Not anarchic..~ But then Shit-storm falls silent. He chooses to remain in crinos, but slings his body lower to the ground, presenting less of a hulking profile and lowering his centre of gravity.

~Why would the weaver do something like this?~ is Generous' question before nodding to Power-up and shifting into Lupus form. Not quite as menacing looking, but he feels more comfortable in it.

As the trio proceed forward, they finally come across what looks like a multi-limbed insectoid figure in the relative dark. Trailing and hissing puffs of steam, it is barely visible, but the parts that are are old, rusty, partially faded. More peculiar are the numerous /other/ spirits that have come to sit upon it - including the raven spirit that sits on one of its multi-jointed limbs. The raven pecks at a joint. The joint creaks, causing the bird to flap its wings to steady itself. Other spirits have come too, out of the wood work to observe. Squirrels twitch their tails, somewhere off further to the side are the gleaming eyes of a raccoon. The wind spirits play with the steaming puffs that emit from the geared, rusty looking Weaver spirit. And it sits there, unmoving.

~Perhaps Wyrm has tainted Weaver,~ Power-Up tosses out as a suggestion. ~The ways of the Triat can be hard to comprehend...~ And then he sees the strange critter. ~That is Weaver,~ he says with some certainty, the first time he's sounded certain about anything for several minutes. ~It looks... ill? Broken? I do not speak the tongue of spirits.~

~It's weaver.. but what the hell IS it?~ Shit-storm asks as he takes his place next to Power-up. ~Is it the spirit of something in the normal world? Or just.. a spirit of its own right?~ He eyes it carefully. ~Looks like that robot in that shitty Wild-Wild-West movie after it really let itself go.~ He adds criticaly.

Generous sees the spirit and starts to slowly approach. It is weaver. And it is hurt. We have to help it, or it can't do its duty. It probably protects us from the Wyrm, but not in this state.

As the Garou sit there, so does the mechanical insectoid. The critique from the Walker cub goes unacknowledged. But after a few more seconds of rest, the multi-limbed thing creaks to life once more. The spirits upon its limbs move off, save for the raven that adjusts its grip upon a rusting metal leg. And its path is heading straight for the Walkers.

[You paged the room with 'It looks like an insect or spider, but there's not really a head or tail to it. As far as you can tell, it's fairly radially symmetrical. Kind of like a starfish. But with more legs.'.
You paged the room with 'http://www.woodslore.org/Images/photos/trips/ptofthearches/sunstar.jpg (starfish? XD)'.]

Power-Up draws a deep breath and stands squarely in its path. ~Greetings, spirit of the Weaver,~ he says in what he hopes is a confident and comprehensible voice. ~You have come close to our caern.~

As the spirit...thing advances on them. Shit-storm steps aside a little, moving to Power-up's left in order to flank it while glancing to his leader for a lead to follow, ready to either show respect and obesiance or outright violence. His tail lashes, his fur ruffling along his spine as his body starts to fill with adrenaline at this strange encounter.

As the spirit-robot approaches, Mick stands where he is, shifting back into Crinos but taking his time as not to startle it. ~Spirit of the Weaver, noble creature. If you are in need of aid, I will provide it. We mean no harm.~

Weaver or whatever it might be, the about a large hispo sized spirit continues forth on its path towards the Garou. It comes to a pause as the crinos blocks its way. A limb lifts, grating against itself as it moves, and brushes a thin bristled pad against Power-Up in inspection.

Power-Up flinches. He can't help himself. But he stands his ground. ~We mean you no harm if you mean us none,~ he says in a distinctly quavery voice.

Shit-Storm shivers despite himself as the thing strokes against Power-Up. He takes a step closer, though keeping himself out of touching-distance of the wierd.. thing.

Generous stands where he stands and doesn't move, about as far from the spirit as Power-Up. ~I think it means us no harm, or it would have attacked by now, wouldn't it? And it is of the Weaver, who bears no ill will, not to those who Walk the Glass... right?~

A series of clicks and thin creaks grind out from somewhere within the spirit. Not exactly understandable on any immediate level, the creature lowers its limb from its inspection of Power-Up. After a moment of the spirit issuing its creaks and clicks, the Glass Walkers realize what it sounds like. Morse Code. And it says: Rejuvenate. Power. Forward. Strong.

~You want us to... rejuvenate you?~ Power-Up blurts. ~Confound it, where do we find gasoline here? Or... what /do/ weaver spirits feed on?~

Shit-Storm just looks a little bemused, not really understanding either the spirit's words or how he can understand them. ~Maybe it needs coal? Or wood?~ He suggests. ~It looks like it could run on steam or something..~

Generous starts to think it through, clapping his paws together to form Morse code of his own. Power. How. After all, the mad inventor inside of him is now utterly interested.

The spirit sits there, hissing tiny pneumatic releases steadily. It is Generous' clapping that cause another limb to creak, reaching towards him, but setting itself down before the ragabash cub. More clicks and grinding lengths: Power... Need. Ahead. Take. Yet another limb stretches out, one that goes around Power-Up and looks to be pointing towards the caern.

~It wants the caern.~ Power-Up lets out a groan as he realises. ~It wants to draw power from our caern... but if we let it, without permission, the country tribes will have our heads if they find out.~ Then a gleam comes into his eyes. ~So... we make sure they don't find out.~

~Hang on.. Hang on..~ Shit-storm looks to Power-up, quite shocked. ~Is that a good idea? At all? How much power does the caern have? How does it get replenished itself? And won't it damage it?~ He shakes his head. ~I really don't like the sound of this.~

The clapping of the cub's paws seem to give his opinion on the matter. Power. Ahead. Okay. We escort. It seems Generous has no problems letting a Weaver spirit feed from the Caern. ~If Power-up wants to do it, that's good enough for me.~

Not seeming to wait for an answer, or permission, from the three Garou, the spirit starts on the move again. With rusty joints creakng and grinding, its pace is slow and deliberate, heading in a relatively unswerving line towards the caern.

Power-Up gives Shit-Storm a look. ~Are you a ragabash or a philodox?~ he shoots at the cub. ~It would be so awesome to let our spirit in and out safely, under the noses of the countrysiders, and them no wiser...~ His tongue lolling in amusement, he trots alongside the spirit towards the caern.

~I'm a ragabash, and I'm doing that 'questioning of authority' shit right now, Power-up-rhya.~ Shit-storm states, taking a very firm position, his hackles rising. ~Someone WILL find out. Then you'll be in the shit, and so will we. Do you want ANOTHER stigma attached to you?~

Generous follows along with the Spirit, blissfully ignoring Shit-storm being the obvious voice of reason. ~It just needs power. Where's the harm?~

The Weaver spirit doesn't question, and just proceeds steadily. The raven-spirit that's been riding along upon it continues to do so, flapping its wings every so often to steady itself. It peers at the Garou as they discuss, and onwards into the bawn they go.

Power-Up snorts at Shit-Storm. ~If this spirit were tainted or evil, the guardians would have found it long before it got so close to the caern. They have not. So it cannot be bad. So it is all right.~ With that display of logic he starts to lope along close to the spirit once more.

Shit-Storm ends up just shaking his head, and following along behind- close enough to leap in if any trouble starts, far enough back to show his displeasure with the entire issue. His fur twitches and his tail lashes to show his frustrated mood.

Generous hardly breaks stride from the Spirit, glancing at it every once in a while. ~Are all spirits connected to the other side, Power-up-rhya? And if so, what do you think this one does?~

~Frankly I have no idea,~ Power-Up confesses. ~I should study the spirits more. But our tribe has only one theurge, if indeed Cat still walks among us. Hey, spirit! What do you do on the other side?~ he asks, though it's plain he doesn't really expect any answer, or any comprehensible one.

As the Walkers walk, and the spirit strides its way through, it doesn't so much as pause to contemplate. The singular purpose of its methodic movements taking it to its next destination just scream Weaver. Once they're closer into the bawn, the raven-spirit upon the jointed leg suddenly takes off, circling with a rough fluttering of its wings and disappearing off into the darkened Shadow realm's night, leaving the Garou and the spirit quite alone on their path.

Shit-Storm seems to grow more and more uneasy as the little group enters into the bawn proper. ~Please, Power-up. Enough.~ He almost pleads of the older garou. ~This is just screaming 'bad fucking idea' to me, so damned loud.. I know we're supposed to be weaverish, but that doesn't mean that every single other fucking wolf out there is.~

~Remind me, Power-up-rhya, what is the punishment for breaking the Litany.~ Generous wonders, out loud, clapping his paws to attempt to communicate with the Spirit again. In Morse code. Spirit. Weaver. Purpose. What. Out loud again, he muses some more while walking along. ~Didn't you say we only get punished for being found out?~

Power-Up finally deigns to listen to Shit-Storm. ~Perhaps you have a point... But what do you propose to do, to stop it? Attack it, a spirit of the Weaver? Roach would scorn us.~

The Weaver spirit doesn't seem to pause in its progression, but it does begin clicking and creaking a response to Generous. Power. Hold. After a few more steps, the radial body of the symmetrical spider opens up in a star formation, and an almost impossibly large array opens up, forming a solar or satellite-like dish to it. The array spins around once, twice, and then it stops to face the direction of the caern. The spirit picks up its pace. Power. Found, it clicks out. Gather. Hold.

~Holy fuck!~ Shit-storm exclaims as the beast seems to prepare to feed, taking a few more steps back before looking to Power-up with an accusatory glare. ~If you don't make up your mind soon, we're gonna have to have our hand forced..~ He states, increasing speed to keep up with the spirit.

Power-Up goes wide-eyed as the spirit extends its satellite-dish affair. ~No... no,~ he whimpers. ~I don't know...~ He looks panic-stricken at the cubs.

Rather alarmed all of a sudden, by the Spirit's explanation it would seem, Generous hurries to follows along. He keeps up the communication in Morse. Power. Garou Need. ~Hold power? It's some sort of Gnosis battery?~ Again in Morse. Power. Deliver. Where.

Gather. Hold. Keep. Gather, Hold, Keep. Gather... The spirit's answer is delivered with singular purpose now. It's almost to the inner edges of the bawn, where the rocks and trees lie like boulders and fat-trunked bodies. And then, the spirit stops again. Its array begins to spin once more, this time in erratic paces. The clicking and grinding morse spell out gibberish.

~Nice one, Power-up-rhya. Looks like it wants to take everything and keep it all. I'm sure everyone will be /delighted/.~ Shit-storm snarls, before tucking into himself. ~Do we need to squash this bug?~

A thought seems to strike Power-Up. ~Wait, spirit, wait,~ he calls out desperately. ~You should not take power from here. Come, follow us instead, and we shall lead you to where you may take power safely and with none to challenge you.~ He looks as Shit-Storm, plainly at a loss for what to do if this gambit fails.

Fast as he can, Generous goes to stand in front of the Spirit, communicating Power-up's words in a language the thing seems to understand. Morse code. Hold. Power. More Power. Not Here. Follow. More Power. Follow.

Even the spirit seems to be caught up in a moment of pause, its gears turning the dish around and around. Then it starts to jerk forward towards Generous and then to the side towards Shit-Storm, to the back, limbs being yanked by forces originally unseen. It doesn't answer the young ragabash cub now, as the forces yanking it swirl into what visible light there is. Clouds of pure energy, chaotic in color and ever-shifting. Wyld energy, it would seem. The forces buzz around the Weaver spirit, pulsing bright at unreliable intervals. Two of them. They don't read as communicating in any sort of understandable code to the three ragabashes.

~WHAT THE HELL!~ Shit-storm explodes as energy, light and all the rest begin to fill the area. ~Is this bad as it looks?~ He seems poised to pounce, the moment a signal is given.

Power-Up remains fixed there, staring at the developments, his fur standing up on end in near terror. ~If we howl for help,~ he croaks, ~will they help us first and kill us after, or the other way round?~ Ah, gallows humour.

Generous doesn't wait for an answer. The situation seemed to be getting out of hand, and if he knew anything, it was machines of obscure origin and crazy design. In a position he seems to find acceptable for the attempt, he jumps for the Weaver Spirit, attempting to land on top of it.

The Wyldlings encircle the Weaver spirit, which in turn seems to fight back in its own way. The visibility of the Weaver spirit fades, but from its body's array come streams of silken strands similar to what had been seen earlier. They crystallize parts of the Wyldlings, forming them further. Occupied as it is, the Weaver spirit is helpless to stop Generous from landing atop it. Despite it being the Umbra, there is still weight to the crinos and that nearly squashes the spirit down on its already rusty limbs. One of the Wyldlings swirls around the crinos now attached to the Weaver spirit as Generous disables the antenna's rotation. For a moment, Generous is lost in a brightly pulsing cloud. And then when he reappears, he looks... burned, almost, fur turned black, body reading of pain.

His little brother's attack is more than enough to stir Shit-storm into action. However, instead of going for a full on body-slam, he takes more 'sensible' action, loping forwards and then slashing with all his strength at the joints of the spirit's limbs, aiming to disable them or tear them away to give more direct access to the central component.

Power-Up finally snaps out of indecision, too, evidently finding the sight of Generous' injury enough to tip his mental scales. With a roar he leaps into the fray and onto the weaver spirit, clawing.

Generous smolders slightly as he hits the ground, looking stunned for a moment. But he's moving, alive seemingly, getting back to his feet. As he does so, the cub roars, his fur burned charcoal black all over. ~Now it cannot sense the power.~

The Weaver spirit, ganged up on so, takes but a few slashes and attacks from the tag-team of three Garou and two Wyldlings to crumple. Shit-Storm's claws jam through the limbs, ripping away and causing it to topple with a jerk to one side. Power-Up taking the other few limbs, makes short work. But it doesn't seem like the Weaver has done anything. Its last vestiges of action before crumpling to a heap is to splurt out more crystalline strands of webbing at Shit-Storm, with no effect in slowing the powerhouse warform of the cub. The Wyldling spirits float around for a few more split seconds, and then they seem to focus upon webbing covered cub. He too is soon enveloped in a thick misty feeling cloud, hidden from view for a few blinks before the cloud unswirls from around him. His fur turns a splotched black in irregular patches where the clouds touch, and he too can feel a 'burning' sensation to him.

~OW! THAT FUCKING HURT!~ Shit-storm screams out as he suddenly becomes extra-crispy, shuddering as he feels the burning pain that seems to cover his entire body. Turning his focus onto the wyldlings that attacked him, he slashes wildly with his claws, trying to swat them like annoying bugs.

As the Weaver creature expires Power-Up leaps at Shit-Storm and starts trying to pull the webbing off him. He's none too gentle in doing so.

Generous stands up fully now, giving a last kick at the expiring Weaver spirit. The Wyldlings keep his attention occupied, however, seeming none too certain of what they are.

Shit-Storm, as he swipes with his claws through the cloud, feels the sensation much like dragging his claws through soft mud at his attack. The wisps of energy that rip away with the followthrough motion show quite visibly for mere seconds that he's done some damage, as the light from the cloud he attacks first pulses even more erratically. It's difficult to see where one spirit stops and the other starts, but it certainly does feel like the three Garou have stirred up one hornet's nest of Wyld. Again there is focus on Shit-Storm, and by proximity Power-Up as the Walker cliath tries to help pull off the webbing. And the clouds wash over them, this time to less effect. Kevin's back receives a mild singing 'racing stripe' as one spirit roils up his back. For the ragabash cub, the top half of Shit-Storm's face gets another brief singed sensation along his head. The webbing comes off none too easily, sticking as it is to the fur and paws of the two crinos. Generous bears witness as his tribemates are attacked.

Yelling again as he's charred and yanked at, Shit-storm seems to be definately moving with less coordination, screaming curses as he slashes at the wyld spirits in a manner that's almost berserk, his entire body howling at him for respite from the searing pain of their spiritual attacks.

Power-Up abandons his attempts to free Shit-Storm from the gunky web and instead turns to the wyld spirits that are besetting the trio. He's howling wordlessly in a mixture of fear, pain and anger as he claws and bites at their wispy bodies.

Generous sees his tribemates being attacked. Sees Shit-storm being attacked. Something clicks. With a scowl and a snarl that is rarely seen on any of the cub's expressions, he ambles into the fray, limbs jerky and stiff. Roaring as he goes, he attacks the wyldlin spirits.

The Weaver spirit and its parts dissipate in a matter of seconds. Again Shit-Storm's swipe at one of the clouds, though it's unclear which he strikes, rips through and unchecked catches Power-Up in the face to slice a few scratches into the cliath and cause bleeding. As the cliath turns to scratch and bite, he too encounters the odd sensation of thickness that makes up spirit essence. As sensation trickles through him, there's a tickle at the back of his mind, a gut wrenching sensation. The addition of Generous into the fray makes for three crinos fighting in small space, swiping at clouds like bears at bees. Generous' claws slash through, but catch only the edge to do little bit swat. Still these Wyldlings attack, their targets made clear by the burns received on Shit-Storm and his cubmate. Where the singed feeling was now open wounds, the spirit-matter of the Garou themselves being warped and burned by spirit Rage, the pain adding to their own anger.

[You paged Power-Up with 'Remember that Past Life 2? That Past Life screams at you that this is too much. You need to run, save the cubs, get away from the angered spirits before they swallow you.'.]

Now visibly weak, in utter agony and finding things incredibly hard going, Shit-storm takes a deep breath and tries to break away, to win himself some breathing space. ~Leg it?!~ He suggests, seeing how badly fucked up he is and his cubmate as well. The boy draws on his rage as best as he can, to force his body to heal as fast as it is able.

Power-Up's howls take on words. ~Cubs! Leave! Run! Back to the realm!~ he howls to the two in his care. ~I will... follow!~ He slashes at the Wyldling nearest him with renewed ferocity, and with renewed vigor too he roars again ~Get OUT!~

Despite the young Shit-Storm's attempt to heal himself in a hurry, his body and spirit fail to comply. The cliath's attempts to distract the Wyldlings by attacking them works wonders, as his claws double-swipe down through them. In the process, he is burned up and down his arms. The occupation, though, gives the cubs their time to flee.

[You paged Generous and Shit-Storm with 'Bright minded cubs that you are, suggested area to run is back the way you came, where the Umbra /was/ safe, rather than into the caern.'.]

Generous is on his last legs. Aside from the charcoal fur, the cub has been attacked by the spirits so much that he seems to 'leak' from his manifestation. Without wasting words, he begins to flee when given the option to do so, slowed down by his injuries. Still, he is ready to support Shit-storm in his flight to safety if needed.

Barely able to stand anymore, Shit-storm lets out a howl of pure pain, frustration and anger. ~Power-up! KEVIN!~ He yells to his elder. ~RUN!~ He limps away as best as he can however, looking back over his shoulder to make sure that the elder garou is following. Heading back the way they came- something telling him that the wyld spirits in the caern are probably more of a risk than the safe areas they passed by. He stumbles, almost falls several times as he makes his weak way away.

Power-Up slashes away at the spirit doggedly, grimly, his aim not improved by frequent twists of the head to make sure that the cubs have obeyed his order to flee and return to the Realm. Only as and when they are clear of the fray does he break off and sprint, using all his speed, to join them in the flight back to the world of reality, and safety. Or what he hopes is safety.

As almost a last sting against the Walker elder for his remembrance, the clouded spirits drive him away after his cubs with a fat burn to his back end, chasing him like driving forces. Once the cliath has gotten a fair distance of thirty meters or so, the spirits looming fall back and fade away, and the Walkers are left to lick their wounds and get back to the Realm by their own devices. The Gauntlet, though relatively low, is still a tough journey across that requires some effort upon all three's parts.

The moment the gauntlet is crossed and he finds himself safe back in the normal world, Shit-storm loses the last of his strength. The crinos gives a low moaning grunt, and then slumps to the ground uncoscious, returning to his homid form as he does so- and looking particularly messed up too.

Power-Up dallies long enough to ensure that the two cubs are both bundled and shoved through the gauntlet somehow, with many a glance behind him, before he too squirms through and collapses alongside them, panting. ~And now... do you believe... the Umbra... is a dangerous place?~ he jokes with black, black humour.

Generous stands there. Still. Quiet. Staring ahead. The cub charred black doesn't seem to collapse, but falls over backwards, entirely stiff.

~Stay here, both of you,~ commands Power-Up once he gets enough breath back. ~And, listen. When they ask what happened, tell them that we found a Weaver spirit close to the caern, and heading for it. Say... say that we had to take care of it because the Guardians did not. That way... we come out of this in a good light... I hope.~ He shivers. ~I hope,~ he repeats.

~What were those things at the end?~ Generous only wonders, laying there quietly. For once he doesn't feel like shifting forms and heading home.

~Spirits of the Wyld... I think. From the way they came at the Weaver spirit. Perhaps they were part of the wards of the Caern. I do not /think/ they were Wyrm.~ Power-Up delivers those words with half-closed eyes, exhausted.

Generous looks up at the sky, as if checking that they are indeed back out of the Umbra. ~We stopped a Weaver spirit. Saved the Caern. Why would the Weaver attack the Caern?"

~It should not,~ Power-Up replies. ~I do not think it was. It was thirsty, and saw a lake to drink from... but the other spirits saw it as a threat. The theurges would know.~

~I feel sad for having to destroy it, Power-up-rhya~ is Generous' honest reply. ~But it was threatening the Caern. We had no choice, did we?~

~We did not,~ Power-Up agrees. But his voice, and body language, still betray uncertainty. ~The Caern is safe. We are live. All is well,~ he goes on, sounding as though he's trying to reassure himself as much as Generous and the silent Shit-Storm.

~We had no choice then. Power-up-rhya... I don't think I can walk back home" the charred cub intones, almost afraid to move a single muscle.

~It is safer to stay here,~ Power-Up says. ~Let us sleep, and heal.~ The cliath keeps his eyes open, though, until the cubs are both securely asleep.

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To: guardians (global mail alias), and Silvertip
Subject: Ticked off caern Wyldlings
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Hard thing to understand sometimes, Wyldlings. But those who interact with the caern's spirits on a more frequent basis will recognizably notice an agitated state amongst them, which started from the night on the crescent moon. Interested parties for investigation please inquire to Yi/Sai.
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==================================== Sept ====================================
Message: 5/115 Posted Author
Agitated Wyldlings Sun Aug 12, 2007 Sai
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To the Garou who interact with the caern's spirits on the bawn more regularly, there is a bit of a stir up in the areas closer to the edges of the caern clearing that ripple out to the inner bawn, and less so along its further edges. The Wyldlings and similarly aligned spirits there gather and dissipate in more frequency and react in a bit more agitated, if not hostile manner. Those on the bawn in the Realm find what Weavery devices, from the simple lighter to the complex cellphone, messing up in nonfunctional ways. Luckily, the farmhouse remains unaffected. This phenomenon began occurring around the waning crescent moon.
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Message: 1/1 in folder main Received: Sun Aug 12 15:55:02 2007
From: Sai
To: Generous, Shit-Storm, and Power-Up
Cc: Sai
Subject: Umbral ONS Debrief
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Final damage tallies:
Mick: -5 agg, Chris: -5 agg, Kevin: -5 agg
Effects from the Wyldlings: Where the damage was done, the burned feeling remains. Opened wounds on the heavier of the burns are a pain. The areas that were burned are /completely/ black, in that even the flesh there is black -- it's not necessarily charred, but it's like the color was shifted to that black color. The black will go away as the body finishes healing up. It is the last to fade, lingering a few days after full healing. If you do happen to get Rite of Cleansing'd, it would also go away much more quickly.
In Mick's case, his entire body had been enveloped - this means everything including his teeth and eyeballs, his nose hairs even, are black as fresh charcoal.
In Chris' case, he had parts of him, like the top half of his head (including his eyeballs) and body in patchy spots turned black.
In Kevin's case, his back, his arms and hands down to the fingernails, and his bum are all blackened.
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