ONS: Recharge the Weaver 2 - Lune-Calmer Reveals The Shadow
8/14/2007
12:40 PM
Logfile from GarouMUSH.
[Jonathan Lune-Calmer, metis Silver Fang theurge, uses Reveal the Shadow to determine what's going on with the agitated Wyldlings surrounding the caern.
REVEAL THE SHADOW: (Level 0)
Mirrors are our paths into the Umbra, but they can also be windows into the shadow. Take the mirror from off the wall, and shower its glass with crushed herbs fresh from Gaia. Petition Falcon for clarity of vision and let the Totem clear the smoke and haze of the Gauntlet. Beware, though, for the window is clear both directions, and all eyes can see through the barrier. This rite is known to mystics of Silver Fangs.]
Currently the moon is in the waxing New Moon phase (7% full).
It is currently 12:35 Pacific Time on Tue Aug 14 2007.
Currently in Saint Claire, it's a sunny day. The temperature is 74 degrees Fahrenheit (23 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from variable directions at 6 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 30.02 and falling, and the relative humidity is 42 percent. The dewpoint is 50 degrees Fahrenheit (10 degrees Celsius.)
Center of the Caern
This is the central point of the 30-meter-wide clearing. The ground is a mixture of dark, rich, muddy soil mixed with clay, though there is an occasional patch of grass. At the center rests a large white boulder, immovable even by the strongest crinos. The boulder is shot through with streaks of quartz that produces scintillating colors when light strikes it just right. It is, for lack of a wholly adequate word, beautiful.
Around you, twenty yards in every direction, stretches the caern. To the southeast, a waterfall plummets over the edge of the chasm into a small pool in the caern; nearby, to the southwest, steam comes from cracks in the ground, perhaps some of the same water. Northwest, a rocky spar juts out of the ground at a low angle, showing a sloping but smooth top. The chasm walls narrow a bit to the northeast, causing some of the mist to swirl in that area.
Contents:
Lune-Calmer
Obvious exits:
Rock Slab Windy Spot WaterFall Steam Vents
The sun set, spreading its firey colored brush over the skies above the caern. Now as that warmth cools towards the night, the moon wakes and rises, although it would be difficult to tell with Luna's Eye being slitted closed still. The world of the caern in the Realm is also quiet but for the sounds of the night's wild orchestra - the hum of the breeze, the tittering of crickets, and others.
As has happened every night since his arrival at this strange new Sept, Lune-Calmer greets the unseen arrival of the Garou's absent aunt. His howl may be somewhat rough and faltering, but there's feeling there nonetheless. Almost as soon as the simple ritual of greeting is complete, the Theurge turns his attention to something far more urgent. He rises into human form, going to retrieve a small cluster of items. A leathern canteen full of the purest water he could find on the caern grounds, a large hand mirror (unfortunately backed with blazing pink plastic rather than any ornate metalwork) and a small pouch of freshly dried local herbs. Pausing, Jonathan looks around and opens his senses to the sounds of the approaching night.
The purest water on the grounds? Water from the caern's waterfall. Or purer still, condensation of the steam from the vents not far off. From the night comes no disturbances, seeing the Silver Fang alone to conduct his rite. Here, there are no watchers yet - of the Garou persuasion.
Jonathan takes off his hat, setting it aside for the moment. He settles to the ground, kneeds folded underneath him. "Gaia, mother of us all. Help me to defend my new home here." The canteen is opened and tilted toward his waiting mouth. Careful not to touch his lips to the vessel at any time, he takes a swallow before righting it once more. "A taste of your goodness to cleanse my own foulness for what's to come." He picks up the mirror with his other hand, and splashes it liberally with some of the water. "To keep the window clear from the Weaver's meddling." Setting down the canteen, he uses the freed hand to take and crumble the herbs in the pouch. Sprinkled over the mirror, he is silent a moment before continuing.
Focus, concentration, the will of the spirit merging with that of Falcon's talons... when the moment is right, Jonathan can feel the Gauntlet pierced. Though not audible, there is a sense of a raptor's whistle in the wind, just as behind the herbs, the theurge's reflection fades away to reveal a visible peek hole into the caern Umbra. Spirits of the Wyld, the wind, the grass, the water, even a few of the lunes all can be seen of the shadow world. It's rather dark, though, with a red cast from Anthelios' light shining down from the Umbral night sky.
Jonathan gives a slight shiver at that ominous bloody glow. The success of the ritual would ordinarily bring a smile to the Theurge's face. At this moment, though, he's all concentration. "Great Falcon, if you're listening, please help your unworthy son find the root of this problem. The children of the Wyld have struck down two of our cubs for no reason, and are growing angrier!" All the while, his eyes scan the glass. He even tilts the mirror somewhat, to see if he can shift his viewpoint for more range.
The center of the caern and areas surrounding are left in peace. Here, there is nothing unusual. It's as the Silver Fang tilts his mirror towards the valley's rim, that he can see pulsing, fleeting energies like wisps of light. Miniature aurora borealis clouds. They are ephemeral flickers at best, but not so usual in the time of the new moon.
Jonathan narrows all three eyes as he peers at the unusual sight. "My little friends, what are -you- doing here?" He takes his gaze momentarily off the window of the mirror, looking in the direction of the rim in the Realm to see if any counterpart or explanation can be found there.
There's no answer of course, to the theurge's small query. In the Realm, there's nothing to reveal such activity as there is in the Umbra. The wyldlings continue to pulse and flicker in their chaotic natures, unheeding of being spied upon.
Seeing the limits of his vision from this distance, the Silver Fang begins to make his way over to the area he last saw the Wyld spirits. He doesn't exactly rush, but neither are his steps plodding. When he reaches his destination, he once more stares into the mirror. "Just a little clue, friends...please."
Going from the center of the caern clearing further out to the rim takes a bit of time. The journey up the small path that leads to the top of the valley also requires some steady footwork to not fall. Luckily, Jonathan's familiar enough that he can watch the mirror and walk at the same time. Closer to the Wyldlings then, he can see the lights pulsing and glittering in a more frequent manner. The closer he gets, the faster and more erratic it becomes.
Jonathan feels a bit of trepidation as he continues, but doesn't waver in his purpose. "I'm only here to help, little cousins," he murmurs to absolutely no one at all. Still he watches, eyes flicking this way and that as he takes obsessive note of detail.
The wyldlings continue to glimmer, though the red cast from the Red Star above adds a little ominous feeling to the scene the Silver Fang catches glimpses of. Up on the valley rim, there are more wyldlings than he can actually view accurately. Considering they also merge and break apart when they contact each other with no indication of which one is which, it makes estimates wholly impossible. Like small roiling stormclouds, the spirits float around almost protectively about the edge of the caern's clearing. And so far as he can tell from his vantage, the spirits have spread themselves out to ring around it all about the rim. The 'closest' one seems to be the brightest glowing cloud of energy. It begins floating a bit closer, though whether deliberate or not remains indecipherable.
Jonathan feels the tiny hairs rise on the back of his neck. "Great Falcon, please watch over this child of yours as he does something so very foolish." With that, he takes a single step back and slightly to the right. He continues to watch the window, to see if the brightly glowing spirit follows him.
The step back, in fact, makes the spirit coming forward pause temporarily. The cloud that makes up its being dims slightly, while the others about it seem to brighten up just a touch.
Jonathan frowns, perplexed. "What was that about?" He rescinds his step, moving closer to the bright cloud. He tries, inasmuch as he is able, to make obvious signs (visual, that is) of friendly intent to the Wyld-thing through the two way window of the mirror. One step, another. "I wish I could speak to you in safety, little one."
After a few moments more, the Wyldling proceeds closer as Jonathan approaches, and it brightens to a certain degree more. Its edges swirl chaotically.
Jonathan leans forward, unable to restrain his curiosity. "Is that you getting excited that a Garou is here?" He moves forward slowly, closing another ten or so feet unless something stops him.
When the Fang moves forward, the Wyldling brightens some more until it outshines the others about. It's noticeable, though, that the other clouds are approaching too at their own irregular paces.
Jonathan's eyes dart back and forth. He rises into his birthform, feeling more comfortable in such a shape. ~Peace, friends,~ he rumbles. ~I want to help.~ Even so, he tenses up, growing uncomfortable with the closing cloud of spirits.
The language of the spirits, though he can understand via the use of his gift, is still disjointed and erratic as per the nature of the Wyldlings. *Square. Weaver. Bad! Touch. No!* The closest, brightest Wyldling pulses some more, becoming much like a strobing light. *Changer. Touch. No!* Jonathan's sharpened lupine ears can hear the tiniest sounds of the mirror starting the crack.
Lune-Calmer stares hard into the mirror, trying to glean what sense he can of the speech. ~No! I only want to talk to you! To help! I will set it aside!~ He simply lets the mirror drop to the softest point of landing he can find. ~Tell me how to help!~
Unfortunately, the drop of the mirror changes the perspective. The view of the Wyldling disappears, replaced by a view of the Umbral ground.
Lune-Calmer bends down to retrieve the item with a sigh, lifting it once more and trying to realign the mirror. ~This Weaver-thing cannot hurt you! Are you guarding us? Do you need anything?~ He backs up his questions with the accompanying gestures of the Spirit Speech.
It takes a few moments to pick the mirror up and readjust its angles to see the Wyldling. By the time Jonathan does so, the spirit is almost right atop him. In the Umbra, anyway. *Always move. Weaver hold. No Weaver! Touch. No!* The mirror's edges start to crack again, spidery lines warping the view of the theurge into the realm of the Shadow. It takes a few more strobing pulses before the spirit ends up saying more than just a few incoherent strings. *Lead no Weaver here!* And then the mirror shatters entirely, snapping the link between the theurge and the Umbra.
Lune-Calmer gives an involuntary wince at the spirit's lecture, one reinforced by the shattering of the mirror. At this most appropriate moment for a string of vile curses, the Silver Fang is left regrettably unprepared. ~Damn! That...was my only mirror.~ He drops into homid once more, going about picking up the fragments of glass with a careful hand. He continues to talk to himself at a normal conversational volume the whole time. "But at least I have something to share with the others. A few more days, maybe, and I'll ask these spirits in the flesh. Metaphysically speaking, of course."
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