The GarouMUSH Log Page of Clemency Haynes

The sun’s barely up, and the world is still cool and quiet and damp, hinting promise at rain later. Thomas Grey, looking dark-eyed, tired, and ten years older, sits crosslegged on the ground, not far from John Smith’s marker — Clemency herself has no marker as of yet. The Silver Fang’s duffel sits open at his side, and in his hands are a collection of the photographs that she left; he’s placing them one by one on the ground, right-side up.

It would seem that Grey wasn’t the only one with the idea to come alone to the burial site. Emma chose to take the long walk in homid, and when she finally nears the area enough to have visual of it, she pauses, somewhat surprised to see the other perhaps. There’s that awkward moment that goes with it; make noise, or turn around and come back later? For the time being, she hovers there indecisively and silent.

Grey pauses a moment, just before setting down the last picture, that of the Fang’s young son; the rest of the pictures are group photos of Clemency with her old pack. The Glass Walker’s head cocks, and then he shifts himself around and squints at Emma. He doesn’t smile, but the tension that had flickered up in him when he sensed a witness fades away. He gives her a nod, then turns back to set down the photo of the little boy.

Emma looks to the grizzled Walker and takes in a deep, quiet breath. “I wasn’t ready to say anything yesterday.” She takes a few steps closer then, eyeing the mound with a heaviness in her spirit.

Grey grunts. “You were there, at least.” Not that he was, though he looks like shit. Reaching into the duffel bag, he takes out a bottle of good black vodka and a shotglass. The shotglass gets set into the dirt in front of the collection of photographs, and then he starts undoing the seal on the unopened bottle.

Emma gives a faint nod, “You’re here now. I think she’d know better than most we don’t exactly follow the exact order of how things go.” She stops a few yards back still, “She’d probably be disappointed if we did.” Though the words may be light, the tone they are spoken is heavy and taut.

Grey grunts. “She did want these buried with her. Or burned with her.” He peels off the seal and works off the top of the bottle of Blavod and expertly pours a couple of fingers of the stuff into the shotglass. “Have to wait until there’s a marker, though, I suppose.” His voice is deep and thick with lack of sleep and repressed grief.

Emma gives a nod from behind the Walker and steps up closer. She squats down to look at the picture of the boy. “I never knew she had a kid.” Her arms fold at her chest, resting on her thighs as she remains squatted down. Her face is pale as she falls into a quiet stare.

Grey nods. “And a sister-in-law. Who will have, hopefully, received the message I sent her.” He sets the open bottle down next to the shotglass and then folds his hands together, with arms resting on his knees.

Emma waits a long moment before speaking again. “I don’t want the rest of us, fighting without eachother. Not if it can be helped.” She swallows, shaking her head, “Even one more of us there and this wouldn’t have happened.”

“Agreed,” says the Walker. He cocks his head, fixing his good eye on her. “How are the others doing? I haven’t seen them recently.”

Emma lifts a shoulder, “KL is she’s dealing with it her way. I owe her a long talk yet; that running off shit isn’t going to happen again. Laura is a rock. At least from my perspective.” She shakes her head as she stands up. “I’m the one that has issues with this shit.”

Grey grunts. “You have issues. I haven’t slept in two days.” This isn’t difficult to believe, looking at him. He grimaces, digging absently at the thick, greying beard. “Too many damned people dead, nearly dead, ruined…” He glances briefly over at Smith’s marker. “…And nothing you can do except to go on. At least, in this case,” he adds, looking back at Emma, “the Dancers died. And she was brought home for a proper funeral.”

Emma looks to him briefly, nodding her head. “Yeah. We owe that to Clem. No one else there would have lasted long enough to give the rest of the Sept time to find them.” She takes in a deep breath and stares at the grave. If there is more to be said, she’s chosen to leave it for another time. “This tire fire… it’s going to kill us Grey.”

Grey’s mouth twists. “We have a chance of winning it, but it will be… ugly. Multiple deaths, multiple battlescars, I imagine, and probably a few other nasty aftereffects from the balefire.” He tugs absently at his beard. “Our best chance is to get some water spirits to help out in the Umbra. The site’s close to a river, so they may be willing to join in. Earth spirits would be useful, too. Anything that will extinguish fire. The rest is brute force. We go in fast, close together, then circle.” Almost unconsciously, he leans forward and drags a finger through the dirt. “Those with a strong spirit-connection and those with that Gift that lets one shake of toxins and poisons at the front. Destroy it as fast as possible, before it kills us. Use a reserve to deal with any additional attackers, or let the spirits handle them.” He eyes her. “Was there more than one balefire spirit?”

Emma looks to the diagrams and listens intently. “Not that I had seen. But there was only three of us there that day- it didn’t need more than one to come show us the way out.” She looks down again, “We’re sadly short on Theurges around here you know. Laura, Olga, Jamethon and a bunch of cubs.” She draws a circle around the main rubble area, “And this circle is all smoke spirits, some are corrupt - but even the normal ones choke the breath out of you fast. The little tainted fuckers cut into you. It’s like running a gauntlet. If we want to attack in force at once, we need a clear path through them.”

Grey frowns thoughtfully, his brows lowered. “Mmnh. Air spirits could blow that shit away, but they could also fan the flames. At worst, we just grit our teeth and barrel through. Everyone stay together as we run the gauntlet, so that no one gets lost or left behind. Then spread out when we’re in view of the main target.”

Emma nods her head. “We need our theurges and whoever else to get out there and start recruiting the help of these spirits. Once we get the umbral fire dealt with, we’re gonna need a way to get the humans back into dousing realm side. Or we’ll be dealing with this again.”

Grey rubs out the crude drawing and brushes his hands together. “Anyone thought of alerting the EPA?”

Emma lifts her brow at that, “You think they’d be more proactive than the SCFD? It’s an idea, but it’ll be impossible for them to do anything until our end is cleared.”

Grey shrugs. “It can’t hurt to try.” He leans over to close shut Clemency’s duffel bag, which now appears empty. “Her sketchbook and other belongings are over at my place, if you or anyone else in the pack wishes to… claim anything. The sketches in particular.”

Emma nods her head, “I’ll look through them later. I’m going to spend some time out here thinking about things.” She moves a little bit away, and lands herself down to sit indian style. “I’ll get in touch with you as soon as I find out what the spirits can do.”

Grey stands up, leaving the empty duffel folded neatly near the other tokens for the dead Silver Fang. “Good. Be seeing you.” Leaving the objects arranged on the ground, the Glass Walker departs the burial mounds.

As the Walker leaves, Emma turns more thoughtfully to the grave site, eyes heavy and fists balled up tightly. “I’m sorry Clemency. I should have been at your side- we should have been fighting together. I won’t let it happen to the others, I swear on your grave.” Tears well up and the young Ahroun bites fiercly at her lip. “I miss you girl. You understood me like few others can.” A hand reaches into her pocket and a small cassette tape is taken out. “Figured, I owed you a trade. It’s Mahler’s Fifth Symphony.” The tape is pressed near one of the pictures. “Relative of mine- anyway, listen to the trumpet part. One solo trumpet, drowning out the rest of the orchestra. It’s ballsy, and heavy, and it kicks a lot of ass. It always reminded me of you…” At this point, the young Get stands up, wiping at her eyes furiously. After only a second more, she is shifted down into lupus, and running hurriedly through the woods.

Burial Mounds(#3207RJ$)
This wide clearing in the midst of short, dark pines is rough with wild grass and bare stone. The air is a bit cooler up here in the foothills than below, and the majestic peaks of the nearby mountains rear up over the eastern treetops. There is a vine-covered boulder standing under the edge of the somber evergreens to the east. The air here is prenaturally still and the grass waves not at all for there is no breeze that blows through the pines. It is silent, no call of bird thrown from the treetops to dance gaily in the open spaces. Occasionally chill fingers run up your spine.

While the Rite of Heroes Pyre originated with the Get of Fenris and involved the burning of a boat, some of the other Tribes have modified the Rite to serve their own Tribal quirks. Vera's set up differs from the original version in that there is no boat, but a carefully constructed mound of deadfall and timber. The skins from two large animals, most likely deer, provide a bed atop the mound of wood. Clemency's body has been laid out on this bed, pungent herb burn around her form, obscuring the smell of decay and dead. Vera stands a short distance away, tending a small fire and wearing the Glabro form. She does not look up, or appear to show any real interest as Garou begin to appear to send Clemency on her way.

The arrival of Clemency's packmates comes in stark contrast. The Fury comes with a plastic bag, in which the clanking of bottles can be heard. The alpha of Havoc, however, comes with her arms folded across her chest and a serious and somber mood etched across her features. As she spies the pyre and the body lain on it, there is a shock of tension through Emma, but nothing is said.

From the general direction of the farmhouse, Walks-Middle leads her two cubs through the dark pines into the clearing. They shift from Lupus back into their birth form as they arrive.

Dillen comes in on his own, his spiky hair blowing in the breeze. The Get galliard nods to Emma his tribemate and stands before the pyre, chewing his lower lip sadly as he looks at Clemency's body. He seems to have something small clutched in his hand.

Helen arrives shortly after Stacey and her cubs, expression somber as she gazes upon the pyre and then gets about finding a place to stand, far enough away from Clemency's body so those that really knew her could stand a little closer. When Dillen arrives she waves to her packmate, but doesn't make a move to go over to say anything, staying right where she is.

Cries-No-More lopes in from the edge of the forest, padding towards the group gathering at the pyre. His mood would best be described as subdued, and he makes no notice of anyone in particular, nor says any hello's after shifting up and standing, eyes half-lidded and on the pyre, off to the side.

A few more people filter in, Laura arrives with a package in her arms, Reggie, and Blackriver arrive a short time later.

Once a fair number of people have arrived, Vera stands up with a fair amount of difficulty and with the aid of a walking stick. There appears to be something wrong with at least one leg. "We come here today," Vera grates in a heavy Glabro voice. "To honor one who fell in battle against the Wyrm."

Touch Deer watches on without any change in expression.

KL sets her bag of bottles carefully, with a minimal amount of clanking, and folds her arms across her chest, a wide, perhaps slightly forced, grin on her face. "Who died gloriously in battle," she remarks, quietly.

Emma turns her attention on to Vera as the Adren begins to speak, eyes focused there with some effort. At this point, she drops her arms and her hands fall into her pockets, the left one fussing with something buried in the denim hole.

Dillen fidgets a little as Vera begins her speech, but holds silence. His eyes meet Helen's for a few moments.

The two cubs stop a little way back from the pyre, finding a space to stand, and look up at the mound of timber solemn-faced. Beside them, Stacey whispers something quietly, then falls silent as the Rite begins. Kristin and Ruth both nod to their Elder, then turn back again to watch.

Helen is silent, watching Vera, eyes darting from the sept alpha to the pyre.

Vera's glabro face is somewhat pale, as she uses her makeshift cane to aid in her journey toward the pyre. "We come here today, to send Clemency on her way. So that one day she may be reborn and in the meantime, her spirit will continue to fight on in the battlefield. I invite you all to speak up, to say what you will about Clemency, so that she will have your words to carry her into the afterlife."

Touch Deer steps up after a short moment of thought, and says, "I knew Clemency Fire-Burns-Forever, and I was her friend. I was lucky for having known her, and the Sept was lucky to have her at its side. I will miss her." Short and simple, he throws nothing into the fire, and lapses back into silence.

Ethan does not mingle with the others. The stranger remains a stranger, hovering on the outskirts of a gathering. He carries a bottle with him, as well. The flickering light of the pyre illuminates the amber liquid within as well as the black Jack Daniels whiskey label on its side.

Dillen speaks up in a clear voice. "Clemency and me didn't exactly get on when she first came here," he recalls. "She was so touchy... she always was, I suppose. But after a bit we managed to find each others' wavelengths and after that we did okay. Fought alongside each other plenty... and could that Fang fight. She loved it, you can tell. Existed for it. But the thing I'll always remember most is the challenge we got into last summer. I don't even recall what it was about, but I do recall the terms I set her. Whichever of us could stand on one leg the longest, would win. The sight of her standing there like a stork glaring at me... And then she started throwing stones at me. That's how much she always wanted to win everything, even a stupid challenge with crazy terms and no prize for the winner. So, Clemency... I brought you some more rocks," he says, opening his hand to reveal a palm full of pebbles which, stepping up to the dead ahroun, he tucks into her pocket. "When you come back next time, throw some of these at me, and I'll know who it is." With a sad smile he steps back from the body again.

Laura steps forward, looking at her packmates, then at the small bundle she carries in her hands. She centers herself, planting her feet and staring at the pyre. "Blessed is the match consumed in kindling flame. Blessed is the flame that burns in the secret fastness of the heart. Blessed is the heart with strength to stop its beating for honor's sake. Blessed is the match consumed in kindling flame," she recites, clear-voiced and loud enough for the whole gathering to hear. She watches the pyre a few moments more, then tucks the bundle she carries in amongst the wood. Then she closes her eyes and steps away.

Blackriver swells up into hispo and slowly pads forward, raising her head to say her bit. ~Fire-Burns-yuf was a good Garou and a good Silver Fang. She always put the good of the sept and the tribe in front of her own good. Sometimes she was too angry, but she knew she was too angry and always worked hard not to be angry. But she was never afraid or reluctant to do what needed to be done.~ That said, Blackriver pads back to her previous spot and lays down.

KL takes a deep breath and unfolds her arms. "Clemency... When she first came here, she swept in like a gust of air. She'd got into a stack of fights before she'd even finished saying hello." She purses her lips, looking thoughtful. "She thought that she was broken. And I'll admit, she was a mad as a flock of salmon. But she didn't take any shit from anyone. We celebrated the defeat of the smog bane together and..." Her voice gets more confidant. "She was a nightmare to our enemies. Vicious in a fight. Great fun afterwards. She got me drunk...first time ever. I am proud to have had her as a packmate, however briefly. Proud to have been in the same Sept as her. Proud of her dying with the blood of our foes on her claws. Proud and exultant and triumphant. I hope that when it's my turn...when I fall...I fall with half the honour and half the glory." She pulls out a bottle of Coors from her bag, and tosses it towards the pyre. "Fight on, awesome claw of Gaia." With that, she steps back, and looks around as if daring anyone to say anything.

Ethan looks around at the others gathered before he steps up to the pyre, a little reluctantly perhaps, and begins to speak. Unlike some of the others, he speaks directly to the dead, not about her. "I knew you about as well as I know the Queen of England, so I'm not gonna sit here and pretend otherwise. What I did know was...like the rest of your tribe, you're as nutty as a Planters mix-bag. But you had the heart of a Get. Three on one, and you made them pay threefold for every drop of blood they took from you. Saved my life." Here, the ragabash grows quiet, lifts the bottle of whiskey in a salute, and gets ready to take a drink. "And I owe you for that. I hate owing dead people. Anyway, this is for you, Clemency Fire-Burns. Runs-Through-Doors. Cheers." He drinks then throws the bottle on the fire. Knowing that Jack Daniels and fire can be very colorful, the ragabash is quick to back up.

Ruth sniffs, and surreptitiously blows her nose on a tissue. Kristin reaches over with a hand, and the two cubs link fingers. Stacey murmurs something very quietly in the young half-moon's ear, and Ruth shakes her head then murmurs something to Kristin, who also indicates no. The Gaian elder nods and looks back towards the pyre, staying silent and respectful, when Ruth seems to change her mind. Stacey nudges her forwards a bit.

"Um..." Ruth nervously rubs her palms together. "I, uh, didn't know Clemency-rhya very well. I thought she was scary. But I liked her too. She... gave me some good advice. It wasn't very important advice. I mean, not big saving Gaia and fighting the Wyrm advice. But it was..." she twists her hands together, searching for the right words... "something small that had to be learned before trying anything bigger. And I'll miss her. Even if she was scary." She stops, looking down at her sneakers, then glances at her Elder to see if she did okay, giving a tiny smile in response to Stacey's approving look.

Reggie offers the words to the corpse atop a pile of woods, "While her body will turn into ashes and charred bones on this pyre, Clemency Fire-Burns-Forever's spirit will burn forever." He raises his gravelly voice, "She died in glory, with the Wyrm in her claws!" The wolfskin-clad Uktena raises his hands to the skies, "Howl for her bravery, howl for her battle, howl in memory of her sacrifice!"

Voice's howl joins the others. The clear, haunting and sorrowful tone of it may give the garou of the Hidden Walk some clue as to how the ragabash earned his deedname.

Cries-No-More lets loose with a straightforward, dissonant howl into the sky, clear and etched with sorrow for the passing of such a great warrior.

Dillen shifts up to crinos and the song-moon begins a howl that's tuneful and loud, though not a little sad.

KL shifts up into Crinos in a flash, letting out a loud howl of triumph and of sheer happiness. She spreads her arms wide to the sky, head tipped back and jaws wide open. Beside her, Stone-Spirit is slower to shift and her howl is muted, a note of regret clearly audible in her voice.

Helen shifts up into the warform, howling along with everyone else for Clemency.

The three Gaians are late, Walks-Middle having to do a lot of prompting before joining the howl. Fears-Pain's howl rings clear and confident with that of the young Elder. Trips-Over-Paws' voice is rusty and hesitant.

Others join in the howl: Blackriver remains in her current form, while Laura and Vera shift into Crinos, their voices joining the chorus. Once the howling fades and dies down, Culls' begins to speak. ~It is no secret that Grandfathers' children and those under the guidance of Falcon are not always on the best of terms. Both our Tribes have very firm opinions on why this hostility exists, but such traditions of mistrust should not stop us from accomplishing what needs to be done, or admitting to the worth, skill, Honor, and Glory of another Garou. I know for a fact that I was never one of Clemency's favorite people and when she first met me, she saw my Tribe and only later, the the Garou I was beyond that.~ Cull's black-furred face cracks a sharp-toothed grin. ~She called me Thunderbitch behind my back and was absolutely furious when I found out. Aside from my teasing 'that I was certain she could come up with better insults if she tried', which infuriated her further, we slowly came to an understanding. I like to think, that given enough time, we could have overcome the hostility that exists between our two Tribes and become friends. Unfortunately, before that could happen, she died in battle. Tearing out the throats of our most hated enemies in the process. Her Rage was great and so was her warriors spirit. Both of these things drove her forward like a flame, brighter then the sun. But, the flame that burns brightest burns shortest. Now that Clemency's flame has gone out, I ask you all to always remember how brightly it burned.~ Still leaning heavily on her makeshift walking stick, Culls-The-Herd retrieves a burning log from the small fire she had been tended and shoves it into the kindling under the pyre. ~And so we send her on her way, in a fire that burns pale in comparison to the one that Clemency carried within herself.~

The fire starts slowly at first, but soon flames are burning brightly and lick at the furs that Clemency's body is resting on. Then, the fire begins to burn more fiercely and all is consumed.

Cries-No-More can be heard to let out an audible, slow sigh as the flames burn away at Clemency.

Bloods-Bane's howls die slowly away as the fire does, until he is standing silent with head bowed.

Cycle-Breaker watches as the body of Clemency is reduced to ashes, eyes sad. ~Go with Gaia,~ she says, mostly to herself.

As the sounds of Garou mourning fade with the flames, Walks-Middle places a hand on the shoulder of each of the two cubs and turns them away. She takes them back through the pines, leaving space and time for those who knew the Silver Fang better to mourn her alone. Their three lupus forms can be seen for a moment before they vanish among the trees.

Culls-The-Herd returns to the small fire she was tending earlier and sits down with a small amount of difficulty, clearly glad to get off her injured legs.

There's no trace of regret or sorrow in Escapes' stance, as she gazes at the flames licking at her former packmate. Her head is held in a proud lift, her arms folded across her chest.

Cries-No-More looks to Vera, and walks in her direction. ~Alpha, may I speak with you?~

Culls-The-Herd looks up from her seat on the ground, ears laying back for a moment. ~What do you wish to speak with me about?~

Cries-No-More gets right to the point. ~I have to leave the Sept, I'm going to travel to the Pine Hills and visit my old mentor there, Joseph Blackrabbit. I need his guidance. And, I have spoken with my son Circles, and he wishes to join me.~

~He is your son,~ Culls' rumbles. ~You are free to do what you will, but Circles is a Cub and thus under the control of Jacinta. However, I doubt there is much that she could complain of, as he is your son.~

Cries-No-More dips his muzzle respectfully, ~I just wanted you to know I would be leaving, officially. I know I have not been present for some time, around the Sept.~

Culls-The-Herd bobs her crinos head in a simple nod. ~And you have my blessings. Good luck to you on your journey."

Cries-No-More deepens his muzzle-dip into a bow. ~Thankyou.~ And he leaves, without any more words to anyone.

NOTE, please, that contrary to my usual custom I've allowed a number of pages and asides to remain in this log. I don't think they break continuity much, and... well, I wanted to keep them, OK.

Currently the moon is in the waning Full Moon phase (99% full).

Bawn: Northern Forest(#3012RA)
Dark and forboding woods stretch in all directions but the north, the trees close together as if they were soldiers closing ranks against the enemy of Man. The trees here are tall, and close off all light from above, like they were pillars in some vast cathedral to Nature. Songbirds flit between the branches and the snuffling of small animals comes from the brush if one listens close enough. The busy interstate highway to the north, though, drowns out most of the subtler sounds in that direction.
The northern edge of the bawn is marked here by the unavoidable length of Interstate 90. Near it, the sounds of traffic drown out the more natural sounds of water and wildlife. In all other directions, the traffic noise recedes into the background.

Pierces Ice looks no less ready for war. She's wearing a similar belt, knife sheathed at her side. In one hand she carries a longbow, in the other a spear, its head covered with cloth, and a nearly flat piece of arrow-shaped wood. Her breath comes in short bursts until she brings it under control. Coming to rest, she crouches down, placing her belongings to her side before clearing a small area of brush and dead leaves. She does not yet look at the others gathering.

Wildfire comes to the northern part of the bawn from the south. Blackriver is in the lead, with Dillen and Helen right behind. Both the followers are in homid and carrying weapons, Helen a nasty looking bow and Dillen a somewhat familiar razor wire. Blackriver flicks her ears in getting and recognition of the two Guardians, and pads over towards Cole, chuffing a soft greeting to her packmate and looking quite tense.

Walks-Middle arrives from the west, slinking through the trees toward the appointed meeting place. As she comes into view of her packmates, she shifts up into homid, offering them a faint nod before looking around to see who else has arrived, her entire posture tense and ready.

Cole turns in a slow circle to take in the arrivals of the various Garou. Each get a nod, some more reserved than others. He set his pack down, along with his axe. "Looks like everyone is coming loaded for bear. Or Spiral, as the case may be." When Wildfire arrives, he moves to intercept them. "Hi, guys."

Kaz leans against her tree, though this time standing up, and grins at Masao. "Dude."

Circle Keeper stops with his packmate, dropping the satchel and taking out two tightly tied bundles of cloth and setting them aside. Any number of people get an outright hostile reaction, the Uktena clearly not pleased as he puts the satchel back over his shoulder.

"Hell yeah." Dillen notes to Cole, lifting the razor wire 4X4 from his shoulder. "Brought Owen with me." He brandishes the weapon a bit with a grin.

"Hey," Helen says to Cole, looking a bit disoriented from the early hour but at the same time tense and ready to go.

Leaves-None angles towards Kaz as she sees her tribemate, tail wagging a bit as she nears. She seems eager for action as she butts her head against the Fostern's leg in greeting.

Havoc is represented by Laura and Fire-Burns, who arrive together. Both of Wolverine's daughters look focused on the task at hand, giving short nods of acknowledgement to those already present. Laura has a pack slung over her back and an unstrung bow in her hand. Her quiver, full of hand-fletched arrows, knocks and rattles at her hip. The hilt of a knife can just barely be seen protruding from one pocket of her pants. The wolf she walks with seems unencumbered by anything but Full Moon Wrath.

Blackriver shakes herself lightly and looks over her packmates, making sure they're all here and ready to go, before turning her gaze on the the others and eyeing them appraisingly. Unlike her packmate she seems quite functional in the early hour.

Morgan arrives a little late, though at a swift run, as if she already knew she was. She's trying to keep her coat closed as she goes, a losing battle, and in one hand, of all things, she's carrying a well worked steel knife. It looks functional at least. If she's got Touch Deer's knife to compliment that, it's hidden under the coat. Her face is flushed.

Ethan arrives not long after the Havoc contingency, coming up from the same direction. The ragabash has no weapons, other than himself. He finds Jacinta in the gathering force, but remains quiet and watchful as the Hidden Walk warriors get ready.

Fire-Burns is indeed carrying nothing in the way of weapons except what comes attached to her body, and an almost tangible air of attitude and tension. She lets out the most restrained of soft whuffs when she arrives in the midst of the other warriors, and walks around some of them giving sniffs and greetings. The Uktena and Wendigo contingent are notably omitted from her circling.

Kaz levers herself off her tree and drifts toward Morgan, and gives her a cheerful sort of smile. There's an energy underneath her movements, but she's not letting it out yet.

Circle Keeper's hostile reaction settles first on the Wyvern Pack, focusing on the two Galliards from it. Lips peeling up, his ears shove forward, before he catches scent of Laura and Clemency. The latter gets another, even more foul reaction, before he scoops up one of the bundles he just set down, and starts lumbering towards the former. His limp is looking a little more notable this morning.

Laura looks up long enough to give a tense little smile at Helen, then crouches where she is. She pulls her bowstring from her pocket and begins preparing her weapon. She glances up from her task in time to spy Circle Keeper, and lowers her head to acknowledge his advance. "Circle Keeper-rhya."

Morgan gives Kaz a rather tense grimace in response. In the company of so many Garou, not a few of them already in crinos, she abandons the attempt to keep her coat closed. She does indeed have Touch Deer's knife--it's sheathed at her side, on a belt that looks as though it was probably worked by the former Wendigo Alpha as well. "Kaz-rhya."

Pierces Ice still does not pay heed to those who have gathered, scratching with her claws in the soil. She roughs out map with several small squares, a larger square in the center, and a large asterisk to one side. Satisfied with her drawing she draws herself up to her full, though not considerable, height and finally looks about the clearing.

Circle Keeper dumps the cloth bundle at Laura's feet, before grunting at Helen, and pointing at the other with his head. The stranger Get gets his attention after that, and with ears erect, he starts for Ethan.

Cole frowns when he spots Morgan arriving at a run. "You haven't missed anything, Morgan. Take a breath." If his voice is a bit tense, it's easily explained away given the circumstances. "Good luck tonight, if I don't get to say it before it starts." He drops a wink in his Fianna's direction, turning in time to return Fire-Burns' greetings. When he becomes aware of Circle Kepper's hostility, he sniffs at the air. "Good luck tonight, Circle-Keeper-rhya," he responds with a hint of saccherine in his voice.

Leaves-None's restlessness leaves her milling about the gathering Garou, making slow circuits around the packs. Outside of a bit of panting and an infrequent rumbling there is very little outward noise made by the Ragabash.

Dillen sees the glare from Circle Keeper as well. He shakes his head and mutters something under his breath as he looks back to Cole.

Kaz looks around, and then calls, not loudly but certainly audibly, "Anyone able to use guns? I got a few that'd be kinda useful."

Laura glances at Helen, then finishes stringing her bow. She still doesn't speak, first trying to spy her packmate among the other Garou, then turning to catch another look at Helen. She draws her glove from her pocket and pulls it on, fixing the doeskin over her hand. Finally, she takes a look inside the bundle the Uktena left with her.

Morgan wrinkles her nose and squints at Kaz. "Have knives." And so saying, she lifts the knife she's still carrying in one hand.

Ethan remains somewhere near where Jacinta was drawing in the dirt. He studies the crude diagram until the feral Uktena makes a bee-line for him. The Get ragabash simply nods his head to Circle Keeper.

Fire-Burns, having greeted those she wishes to greet, returns for now to the homid form. She walks to a thicket, rummages in it, and pulls out her well-worn duffel bag, from which she removes a pad of paper and pen. Sitting against a tree trunk, she resumes work on what seems an already near-complete sketch of the face of a young, freckled, snub-nosed woman.

Cole shakes his head to Kaz. "Got something better, but thanks anyways." Dillen gets a smirk, dry and humorless. "Yeah."

Stacey remains quiet, in the background, while everyone gathers, only moving to look over as Jacinta stands. She takes a few steps closer, still tense, almost nervous, and also peers down at the diagram.

Reflection comes tearing through the bawn to the group as they gather and prepare. When he gets near he takes on the homid form. He looks agitated and ready for a fight, yet all know he is not going to be able to join the warriors tonight. He starts to take off his fetish jacket after his transformation to homid is complete and walks over to Jacinta.

Blackriver begins to pace restlessly, keeping an eye on her packmates and glancing every once and a while towards Jacinta.

Pierces Ice, standing over her drawing, eyes Dillen and Cole for just a moment before raising her voice. ~You have heard the call. You have answered. Your appearance is appreciated. Now is the time for planning, for battle soon to begin.~ She lets her gaze now pass over all those gathered, resting for just a moment on Jamethon before she continues on.

Culls-The-Herd trots toward the group in lupus, head raised as she sniffs at the air.

Circle Keeper's jaws start to part, and a rumble starts to form in his chest as Ethan nods, but Jacitna's words forstall any conversation he might have wanted to start. Planting his spear butt first into the ground, he leans on the shaft.

Laura waves Helen towards her, resting her hand on the bundle in front of her. "Here, quickly," she says, sparing her voice for whatever reason. "Take these," she murmurs, separating out some arrows and tucking them quickly into her quiver. The rest are wrapped again and offered to her tribesister.

Ethan raises a brow at the Uktena, but the ragabash does not seem all that concerned. His attention is easily diverted to Pierces Ice, as well. He also spots James, and the fellow Get receives a sly grin.

Cole looks up as Pierces starts to speak. He shrugs and gathers his items into his arms. "Well, planning session begins." He makes his way over to the group coalescing slowly but surely around the diagram.

Pierces Ice gestures with one hand, quick and sharp, to Cole, to Dillen, to Morgan. ~Your strength will be needed here. In case this is but a distraction. In case another attack should come while we do battle. Assist the Warder! Do as he commands. Guard the Heart as though you were Guardians, yourselves.~

Clemency's pencil ceases scratching over paper for a moment as Pierces Ice speaks. She looks up, her eyes landing on Helen and Laura for a moment as her packmate gives the ragabash a selection of arrows.

Helen glances over her shoulder upon hearing Laura's voice; she smiles faintly, and bobs her head towards her packmates before she heads in her tribesister's direction. "Thank you," she murmurs, taking the arrows carefully from Laura. Another faint smile and she's gone back to hang out near her packmates.

Jamethon does not appear to be in a grinning mood tonight, though he does answer Ethan with a terse nod. The Warder moves to stand near Jacinta, looking over the group that has gathered to serve Gaia as he rests the jacket over his right arm.

Leaves-None ends her circling about and pads in closer to watch and listen, keeping within easy sight.

Kaz drifts toward the sketched plans.

Dillen gives Pierces-Ice a nod of his head, "With all I have." He says with all the conviction of the world. The 4X4 is lifted to his shoulder again as he listens.

Laura finds her way over to Clemency, planting the butt of her bow in the soil. She watches the diagram intently.

Cole nods as well, a sour expression crossing his fair features. "If they get this far, they won't get any farther." He shares the same zealous tone as his Fenrir packmate, though he glances to Helen and Blackriver.

Circle Keeper's attention is only half there, the Uktena looking like the explanation and drawings are old news for him. Still, he keeps an eye down, and an ear cocked as his packmate talks.

Blackriver gives Cole and Dillen a look of appreciation before turning back to Jacinta.

Finding the two Black Furies, the Wendigo gestures to them. Then does the same toward the Bone Gnawers. ~Child Holder, Cycle Breaker, Leaves None Behind, You will join with me in support of Ears to the Ground. It is her gift that will draw forth the enemy.~ She drops down to point at the asterisk on her rough map, then rises once more. ~From here will will be ready to make ranged attack.~

Laura studies the rest of the map, her only reply to that a short nod. Again she cracks a bit of a smile, this one a little more feral than before.

Helen bobs her head to Jacinta. "Alright," she says, glancing sidelong to Laura.

Leaves-None rumbles in assent and trots over to Kaz' side, settling there for the moment and continuing to listen.

Laura raises an eyebrow to Helen, then nods.

Cole looks to the other three members of his pack gathered, raising a brow. Something unpsoken passes between the pack members.

Culls-The-Herd settles down on her haunches and yawns, looking from one Garou to the next.

Morgan fingers the steel knife nervously, glancing between those gathered. She's rocking slightly, from one foot to the next, and her face gets a little more heated as the orders start to go out.

Pierces Ice gives a satisfied flick of her ears and continues pointing. ~Blackriver, Fire Burns Forever, Voice of the Unspoken. You will join Walks the Middle Road in following Circle Keeper.~ Again she drops down to gesture at her map. ~You will hide in the trees, here,~ she says before rising. ~Wait until the enemy have passed you, then close them off from escape.~

Circle Keeper lifts the shaft of his weapon slightly, before stamping it down on the ground again. He looks through the list of people, from Lupus to the Get, pausing on Clemency before he looks back to Jacinta. His muzzle lifts slightly.

Stacey straightens as her name is called and nods, looking down to note where is pointed before glancing over at the others.

Clemency looks up and over her sketchpad as Pierces Ice speaks again. She remains silent. At the command to wait and hide, the already dead look in her cold grey eyes seems to grow a little deader. When her battle orders have been fully spoken, she gives one tight nod to the Wendigo, and looks away, her eyes landing on Culls-the-Herd and lingering there several seconds before she resumes work on her sketch.

Blackriver tenses and eyes Jacinta and Circle Keeper carefully, before looking to Cole and giving him a brief brush of her nose. When Pierces Ice speaks she listens attentively, not seeming to understand the map but looking between her fellow attackers and flicking her ears in comprehension.

Ethan nods to Jacinta's idea, his eyes once again falling on Circle Keeper. This time the look is more assessing. "The hammer and anvil," he says quietly and then moves to stand among those to whom he's been assigned.

Kaz says, "Love me some pincushion duty," and trails back over to her canvas bag.

Laura touches her packmate's shoulder for a moment, grinding the butt of her bow into the ground. She raises her face to the wind, then looks back to the plan.

Jihgfed pages to the room: 'Evening ladies and germs, girls and boils. You all here for the show?
Kaz pages to the room: Yipes. Hi! Yes!
Cole pages to the room: Evening, Jihg!
Laura pages to the room: Hello Jihg. Yep.
Circle Keeper pages to the room: He's quite the comedian, that one.
Blackriver pages to the room: Hey Jihg.
You paged the room with 'Aye aye.'.
From afar, to the room, Circle Keeper's here for the free food and drink, honestly.
From afar, to the room, Leaves-None is here for her health.
From afar, to the room, Jamethon was told there would be punch and pie?
From afar, to the room, Ethan heard there would be ice cream.
Circle Keeper pages to the room: STACEY. What did you tell them?
Jihgfed pages to the room: There's all the food you can eat just a mile or so north of us.
From afar, to the room, Jihgfed's ready when you are.
From afar, to the room, Blackriver looks around for the sexy men wolves Stacey promised her.

Pierces Ice huffs out a breath and gives Laura a bit of a nod. ~We will have the sun at our backs, and the wind to theirs. If all works to plan, we have the advantage. But it is important to recall - Ears to the Ground's gift will call all of the Horned Serpent's brood that can hear. We may face more than we plan. And the enemy may come from other places.~

Morgan glances toward Kaz, nostrils flaring.

Kaz tells Morgan, ruefully, "It ain't a real predictable gift."

Cole crosses his arms as he listens to the ongoing plans, still looking rather nonplussed about something. He prods his satchel lightly with the toe of his boot. "Try and save something for us, huh," he asks of Blackriver and Helen.

Morgan doesn't seem to consider this terribly reassuring. Her fidgeting increases, and then, as if it just weren't enough to contain her, she slides easily into her birth form, now clutching that steel knife with her two lower hands, the fingers a little thick on the grip and the sheath.

Dillen looks to Blackriver. "Remember the gift." He nods his head, moving over to lean against a tree. "We will be here when you all come back to hear the story."

Culls-The-Herd yawns once again, looking decidedly bored. The wolf's form begins to blur, growing into the warform. Necklace of teeth rattling faintly, the black crinos makes her way over to Clemency.

Clemency adds a last few lines to her sketch, stares at it for a long moment, and mutters something which only the few garou nearest here are likely to hear. Then she shuts the sketchbook with a snap, tucks it back into her duffel bag, and returns the bag to its hiding place in the thicket, then moves to Dillen. "Should I fall in this fight," she says to him in cold but firm tones, "make sure my bag is given to Thomas Grey. He knows what to do with its contents." Then she turns to look at the approaching Culls-the-Herd.

Ethan grins again, muttering half to himself and half to Circle Keeper, "IT's a good day to die, and the day is not yet over." The bad Star Trek impression seems lost on the Uktena, and the Get's smile fades a little. He sighs, and gets serious again.

Blackriver gives her two packmates a blank look, and pokes them reassuringly with her nose before trotting over towards her group, sliding up next to Clemency.

You paged Culls-The-Herd, Helen, Laura, and Kaz with 'She mutters "Spikes... this one's for Julius."'.

Dillen gives Clemency a bow of his head. "I will make sure of it." He then looks to the Fang. "Just come back. Grey is a grumpy SOB to deal with." A slight smirk.

Cole looks over as Clemency makes the odd request, then moves to stand near to the packmate he has been assigned to serve with. "That's putting it politely. I think Cockroach regularly shits in his coffee."

Circle Keeper indeed looks sideways at Ethan, before giving his ruff a sold shake as to dissmiss any thoughts. Pulling off the bag and dumping it on the ground, the Uktena adjusts the weapon belt around him, and then shifts down to Lupus.

Leaves-None gets to her feet and gives herself a thorough shake from nose to tail as if settling more into place than just her fur. Quick looks are given to each face in the cadre she was named into as her muzzle lolls open slightly.

Laura watches Clemency's movement, then shoulders her bow and edges nearer to Kaz. She closes her eyes then, and concentrates on her breathing. The slow inhalation ends soon enough, and the theurge regards her surroundings with clearer vision. She touches the arrows in her quiver, sorting by touch.

Jamethon stands tall, and looks over the gathered rising to the crinos. ~We are Warriors of Gaia. And we have found honorless insects of the Wyrm that decided to play at being Garou.~ He shakes his head roughly, ~Gaia is affronted at their audacity and will not stand for it. They will be stopped this night and know that the Hidden Walk is doom for the Wyrm.~ He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, ~Already the totems knows that they will ride gloriously into battle with the children of their tribes. No matter which you belong to, all are warriors of Gaia. All born to fight and die so that she might live. Go and make true her will. Lay low the Wyrm and do not suffer it to live beyond this night.~ With this he nods to Jacinta and stands stoic, breath heaving and waiting for the Warriors to head out to battle.

Forest North of I-90(#2354RA) The forest is thinner here than it is south of the highway, though it is still difficult to see for far. Signs of human habitation break the stretch of woods every few miles; roads, paths, farms, and the occasional out-of-the-way home remind you that civilization is encroaching, though in this area, the battle is not yet decided. Hardwoods mix with towering firs and smaller trees, still concealing some of nature's hidden places from the nearby humans. The forest spreads north from Interstate 90, which delineates the souther edge of this area. Marked by logging areas, farms, and other signs of human presence in places, the woods are still relatively unoccupied by humans.

The Garou slip beneath the interstate's culverts, their paws wet in the dank water, their heartbeats and steps ringing back against their metal shell, barely audible for the trucks thumping by above. There's an undeniable but undefinable emptiness to their movements, like not the life but rather the spirit has been sucked right out of them, replaced with a twittering energy. It's a dull, metallic sensation, coppery and dirty, a deadness in their lungs and steps and a quickness in their limbs. The trip through the meadows north of the highway is not a pleasant one. The noise of traffic and its light, foul smell rumbles through the air. The moon above replaces the Garou's lost spirit with Rage. They can feel it, with every whip of the tall grass against their faces, with every creep forwards.

Ears, after that speech, manages to pad along with a solid confidence which is only partially assumed. She keeps to cover in any case, because for one thing, her ears are a bit ridiculous.

Jihgfed pages to the room: There's so much silver right now amongst you guys that, so long as you stay together as a pack, you all have an effective Gnosis of 0. You can't use any gifts that require Gnosis (and any that you may have activated before this point are functionless), and you're not even sure if you can step sideways.
Jihgfed pages to the room: Gifts that don't require Gnosis, shapeshifting, any other junk, all that's fine. Can't activate any fetishes, though.

Blackriver bristles with barely controlled Rage, ears flat and head turning to each strange sound and smell she encounters, as if each shadow and might hold a Spiral behind it. The drain on her spirit side makes her uneasy, and she lets out a soft and high pitched whine in mourning to the gnosis she's held and grown so used to all her life.

Circle Keeper leads his group after Jacinta's, moving at such a slow speed as to be almost ridiculous. The Uktena's whole posture is wary, sniffing along and investigating just about every step of the way, an eye out for traps. The lupus gets a sharp look, and a silent command: Quiet.

Clemency , shifting to crinos once the order to move off comes, pauses to scratch each set of claws on a mossy boulder she passes, slowly, deliberately. One, two, three, four.

Laura stays behind Ears, and slightly to the side. One hand grips the arrows in the quiver to keep them still. The other clutches her bow, which she uses to clear her path. Occasionally, she turns to look for the others in her small squad. She's as quiet as she can be on two legs.

Pierces Ice lets Masao lead the way, since she did the original scouting of the area. Like the others, her posture is tense, wary, and alert for the traps she knows exist.

Helen stays close to Laura, tense and anxious, following after the other Fury slowly.

The Get ragabash Guest-of-the-Walk uses the same boulder to sharpen his own claws. Ethan has also shifted up to crinos, taking on the lean, black and grey form of voice of the Unspoken. He falls in behind Circle Keeper as he was instructed.

Leaves-None limits her reactions to body language, her own ears dipping back at the change in energies. She picks her path from memory with her nose low to the ground in unconscious mimicry of another Gnawer Ragabash.

Ears mostly follows Masao; her confidence remains, although a certain amount of bloody-minded rage also enters into things.

Walks-Middle follows Circle Keeper, matching his slow, cautious speed. The Child is also wary, watching out for traps and keeping low, disconcerted by the loss of spiritual connection, not to mention completely on edge.

Blackriver falls silent at Circle Keeper's command, slowing for a moment to call up the inner resolve to push the pain of wounds away.

Laura takes up a position slightly in front of Helen, sharp eyes watching for the traps they were warned of. Her breathing is slow and steady as she tries to ignore the absence of the spirit world. She bares her teeth as they walk, caught somewhere between the past and the present.

Culls-The-Herd scratches under her chin as she contemplates those around her. Her ears slick back for a moment, then she seems to decide what to do and moves closer to Clemency.

Fire-Burns moves to join Blackriver, her tribemate and successor as elder, and the two Silver Fangs move together towards the battlefield and their assigned place in the trees. Seeing Culls approach, Fire-Burns turns her head sideways. ~Soon,~ she says eagerly to the sept alpha, ~soon, soon...~

There's no tranquility in the dawn: the highway buzzes behind them and the morning air is full of insects. The sun makes pale and distant the high moon. Everywhere there's a distant, vexing energy.

Circle Keeper leads his group beyond Jacinta's after a while, still moving at that a snail's pace along the way. Once they arrive at the predetermined location, he silently indicates they are to spread out, before finding himself a tree, shifting to homid and heading up.

Ears heads toward a fairly obvious spot, once they've reached the general predetermined area, and shifts into glabro. She settles her bag down next to her, takes out the rifle, and her other guns, and sets up carefully.

Voice doesn't bother changing forms. He uses his claws and digs into the bark his chosen tree to give him leverage to climb up. A few agile moves and he is soon on the lowest branch. It shudders briefly under his weight, the leaves whispering, but the Get is not the biggest of garou, and he gauges the tree will hold him. Climbing a little further, he crouches and gets into position.

Laura finds a spot near Ears' position, with her back to something fairly solid. She draws the silver arrows and pushes them point-down in the earth next to her, easy to reach, easy to fire.

Blackriver shifts into glabro and hoists herself up a tree, all the more paranoid now that she's in an uncomfortable form.

KATYA/Blackriver, glabro: This creature before you is obviously not human, but something much more monstrous and primal. She, and after a moment of looking it's clear it /is/ a she, towers a bit over 6 feet feet tall, with long tangled blond hair sweeping down to the bottom of her shoulder. Her eyes are a cold, striking blue, with a tinge of yellow to them. Most noticeable is the small patches of hair running down her checks and arms. They're short strands, almost fur-like, and a deep golden blond. Her check bones are quite square and pronounced, and she seems stronger than most humans, alert and predatory.

Walks-Middle also spreads out, finding a decent tree, and shifts to homid before climbing up into its branches, trying to find a spot that will keep her small form hidden enough.

Pierces Ice steps up beside Ears to the Ground, giving room to the metis and room for her throwing arm. She holds the covered spear in one hand, the nuqok in the other, and waits. Tension radiates through her body, the waiting only adding to it.

Fire-Burns looks up at Blackriver in glabro with curiosity, before she shifts too. She, however, goes the opposite way, and adopts lupus. She conceals her white-furred self as best she can in the thick undergrowth at the base of the same tree that Voice has clambered into, and there she waits, tense as a taut string.

Helen moves close enough to Laura and Ears, doing the same thing Laura does with her own arrows, moving carefully. When done, the Fury glances about anxiously. She lets out a heavy breath that sounds somewhat like a sigh, otherwise quiet, waiting like everyone else.

Circle Keeper pages: Clem's supposed to climb a tree.

The Garou dig themselves in - or hoist themselves up - in the spotty patch of forest to the east, where the bright sun dapples warm pictures across the ground, and the moon is invisible in the canopy. Far off, to the northeast, a lonely outhouse can be barely made out through the slats of trees, while to the west, across a high-grassed meadow, is a dense copse of fir trees, where a faint glimpse of brown at the top may indeed by the purported trebuchet, or just a trick of light and shadows at the crests of trees.

Circle Keeper pages: From earlier, when they were laying out the plan. :) You paged Circle Keeper with 'That's not what Jacinta said.'.

Culls-The-Herd locates a reasonably sized tree and shrinks down into Glabro, before hoisting herself into the pine with a few grunts of effort.

Leaves-None trades lupus for glabro and crouches in the grass also in Ears' vicinity. A quick, appraising look is given to the other Gnawer's supply of weaponry as she licks her lips. Eventually her eyes go to the fir trees and her expression goes stony.

Carefully, Kaz makes sure of her rifle and its ammunition. And then she starts belting a rather peculiar not-quite howl. It grates on the nerves, and it's remarkably piercing, for something coming out of a glabro mouth. And she keeps this grating, piercing, almost revolting noise going.

Circle Keeper pages: Yeah she did. `You will hide in the trees.` But if Clem ICly misunderstood, that's alright.
You paged Circle Keeper with 'I read that (OOC and IC) as 'among the trees' not 'up the trees'.'.
From afar, Circle Keeper nods. She meant up. Woops.
You paged Circle Keeper with 'Fog of war!'.

The sound stretches far, the great inhuman lungs swelling and pushing like bellows. It rattles through the trees, sends morning doves from their cooing fawning and flapping off into the murky blue sky. Seconds roll out with only the fingernails-on-blackboard screeching of the Galliard filling the space between - until, after a space of ten seconds, Ears' call is overridden and supplanted by one that seems to almost blow the leaves off trees. It starts fast and choppy and then curdles like milk; it's both command and cringing, pathetic wheedle, like a child being beaten was suddenly given the ability to scream his pain in the ears of all the world. Then it goes sweet, sickly, and grating, before trailing off - after a few seconds no longer is it the call of a wolf but the cry of a mutilated bird, literally a series of hoots and caws, a wild cacophony, and then silence.

Seconds continue to creep by, faster now, with more urgency. Laura steels her will and nocks an arrow, aiming at the area she expects the enemy should emerge from. Her lips peel back from her teeth.

Circle Keeper clings to his perch, the Uktena's shoulders hunching as he looks around beneath him with considerable concern. Veins buldged from the elevated bloodpressure, he's feeling the edge to the situation.

Kaz mutters to Jacinta, ~That's a warnin' howl from some dipshit on their side. Sayin' Gaian Garou is nearby. In case that wasn't obvious.~ That said, she goes back to her perculiar, irritating, urging call.

Fire-Burns remains at the foot of the tree, motionless save for an ear which flicks a couple of times at the cacophony that sounds out around her.

Pierces Ice's ears pin back and she pulls the cover off the spear-head, revealing the reflective silver tip. Hairs rise along her spine and all down her arms. Her teeth clack together in an anticipatory tremor. Kaz's mutter gets a blink of recognition and a momentary lick of the whiskers. She passes the message on to the Black Furies and Masao.

Masao lowers her head slightly, eyes narrowing at both Kaz' howl and the raucous response. Letting her hands rest on the ground, she curls her fingers around some of the grass tightly and scans across the meadow. The relayed message earns a slow nod of her head and a hitch of her shoulders.

Voice's hackles rise as soon as Kaz begins her call, but the ones that answer it truly make the Get a little antsy. His claws flex nervously, and he bares his teeth. Otherwise, he remains crouched and coiled.

Katya tenses and she too bares her teeth, the action looking odd in her hairy glabro form.

Stacey tenses as she clings to the branches, keeping a look out on the scene beneath and around her, waiting.

Vera grips a steadying branch in the tree, sap making the palm of her hand sticky as she squints into the distance.

Helen grimaces, bearing her teeth at the sound of Kaz's call and the response. She digs the fingernails of both hands into her palms, waiting.

Time slips on and a figure, a small blotch of white, slides from the eastern edge of the small copse of woods. It must be moving fast but from the distance its movements are fluid, soft, and slow. Crinos limbs push it nimbly through the high grass, rage-blinded and easy.

Kaz, while continuing her Call, gestures at the motion, just in case none of the others saw it.

Circle Keeper continues to cling to his high perch while watching the ground.

Laura draws slowly, sighting her target. She inhales and holds that breath. Sharp eyes judge the distance, and she looses her arrow when she's certain the loping form is close enough.

Vera's fingers clench as her body goes stiff and she watches the approaching figure with narrowed eyes.

Pierces Ice's lips pull back, and she readies her spear and thrower, waiting for the best shot; waiting for the prey to come in closer. The weapon gives her only one attack, and she will wait to make it count.

Helen remains clutching her bow tightly, watching the Spirals in the distance. She doesn't go in for an attack just yet.

Masao's eyes track the figure as it comes closer as she inches closer to Kaz and the guns. Then she moves back to the copse itself to see if anything else comes out to play.

Katya pages to the room: Guys, I hate to do this to ya, but I have to go. Night y'all.
Katya has disconnected.

Stacey remains as still as she can, watching the approaching figure and continuing to scan the area.

It gets larger as it gets closer, and less fluid. Its movements are blockier, more static, than they'd seemed at a distance. Its legs don't run right, its white coat is covered in purple blotches like polka dots, and its ears, high as highway pylons, are riddled with wholes. It lopes awkwardly through the tall green grass - fifty metres away, then fifteen, tearing up distance and sending ground-nesting birds up in its wake. For a moment, it stumbles, it seems distracted by the flurry of movement and looks up, stunned, as the small patches of white flitter up into the blue sky like ashes leaving a fire pit.

Kaz keeps up her grating Call, but, before Masao moves away, hands her the shotgun.

Laura sweeps up another silver arrow and nocks it, taking aim again. She holds her shot, waiting for the next good opportunity to open itself.

Masao's hand reaches out for the gun, catching the offer on her peripheral vision just as something else catches it. ~Hey! One's going in the opposite direction! Running away from us!~ she snaps out in a voice as unpleasant to hear as the continuing howl, mostly for the squeaky gravelly sound. She points with her other hand towards the copse itself and moves it as she tries to track what she sees.

Circle Keeper's attention goes to the direction Masao indicates, brow narrowed as he seeks out the sight of the fleeing figure.

Kaz can't exactly intensify her Call, but it's clear, from the snarl emanating from her, and the grating, jumping, irritating sounds coming out of her, that she'd like to try.

Pierces Ice's arm snaps forward - shoulder, elbow, wrist, loosing the spear in a blinding flash at the original target, dropping the thrower on the followthrough.

Shortly after Laura gets ready to fire another arrow, Helen follows suit, waiting anxiously to shoot off the arrow, arms tense. Masao's announcement catches her off guard, and she glances in the direction the Gnawer points towards, guiding her bow and arrow in that direction perhaps hoping that she could see something to shoot at.

Vera's lips pull back in a silent snarl, as she attempts to spot the fleeing figure.

Stacey glances in the direction others look to, but keeps her attention moving, keeping the targets in sight, but also looking out for any others that might approach.

Fire-Burns still remains in her place of concealment, though to keep motionless is obviously a greater and greater burden on the rage-driven ahroun.

Voice mirrors Circle Keeper, eyes shifting to seek out the second moving figure.

The distracted creature doesn't even notice its impending death, eyes attached to the flight of birds, chaotic and beautiful against the bright blue sky. The sound that comes from its throat is not so much a howl as a choke: it reers and barely manages to put its front paw down, like a stumbling cow. Its pace quickens, its face, visible now, a mess of bruises and fur, is full of fury. One arrow has gone right through its shoulder, passed out the other side; a harpoon head sticks to that same arm's elbow, and though only seconds have passed that whole side is red with blood. It passes through the edge of trees, searching blindly for its assailants.

Laura's lip twitches. "Hit the scout," she orders Helen, inhaling, exhaling and firing at the now-much-closer crinos.

Kaz bares her teeth at this creature, ears swivelling, and continues her Call, persistent, compelling.

Pierces Ice draws her knife, turning to seek out the second target.

Helen clenches her jaw, nodding, eyes narrowed. Her arrow flies right after Laura's orders.

Masao's gesture tracks the figure towards in a west-southwesterly direction and she clips out a few more words. ~May be heading for the highway.~ Recognition lights her animalistic features as she glances at the first target, slipping out of mother's tongue to whisper, "Not bored now, are you, fucker? Not for long, either."

Circle Keeper shifts to hispo, dropping down out of his perch and onto four legs more on the dirt.

The instant Circle Keeper drops out of his tree, Fire-Burns is on her feet and alongside him, herself shifting to hispo also, poised for action.

Voice follows suit, dropping from his tree to land heavily in a crouched position beside Circle Keeper, opposite Clemency.

Vera drops out of her tree as well, shifting into lupus once she hits the ground.

Kaz, at Masao's comment, falls into Crinos and continues her grating howl, on the theory that a Crinos Call will carry further.

Stacey spots Circle Keeper as he moves, and then she too drops down out of her perch, shifting to hispo as well.

The Dancer beneath seems fanatically grateful to see movement in the sun-speckled woods, to finally have something it can sink its mad claws into. Its body is buckled and bent as it turns to face the first to drop - Circle Keeper - its beaten eyes wide and hungry, fur bristled up like shafts, quickly joined by two more as a pair of arrows move through it. One enters its chest and slides right through unhindered to the ground below, as smoothly and as neatly as if it had passed through tissue paper. Another hits bone and splinters at his back. The thing doesn't even seem to notice; its mind is elsewhere, if it exists at all. It stares at Circle-Keeper with unspeakable anger and misunderstanding, more animal than human. It doesn't make it more than a step forward before it collapses, still staring, though eyes no longer move. The sun continues to play across its purple bruises as the leaves dance above.

Laura's anger surges, and she draws out the third arrow. This one is also readied, aimed yet again in the direction the Black Spiral Dancer emerged from. There's a slight tremor in her hand, and her jaw works as she watches.

Helen quickly picks up another arrow and readies it in her bow, waiting for another chance to fire it.

~Get. Walks-Middle. Get the one to the west. Run fast.~ Ciuraq growls out, to Ethan and Stacey. The deformed thing gets run around quick, as he starts heading northwards towards the camp at a slow pace. ~Fire-Burns follows me.~


Shortly after Kaz's now-Crinos howl, another answers, thin and reedy and creeping from the west. It's a sound of unadulterated rage, blunted by the intervening distance, the trees and space it travels through. It's a call not of wolves but of birds: a slow ululation like the throaty warble of angry turkey. It would be almost comical if it weren't for the utter, dire need that's in it, a starving thirst for blood.

Voice's claws dig into grass and dirt as he tears off after the one to the west--as instructed. For speed, he shifts on the fly to hispo.

Kaz's continuing Call gets an almost gleefully fierce brassy tone to it, briefly. "Come and get it!" is the implicit message.

Fire-Burns lets out a savage cry of satisfaction as the first enemy drops lifeless at Circle Keeper's feet, right alongside her, and, unlike the Uktena, she deliberately runs over it, claws raking at its dead flesh, as she obeys his order to follow her.

Walks-Middle turns and takes off after the Spiral that is fleeing west as soon as Circle Keeper growls, running as fast as possible to catch up to it. She raises her hackles at the new howl, but keeps running toward her target.

Come, Voice-Of-The-Unspoken, Culls-The-Herd says as lupus feet propel her toward the west and she paces the Get of Fenris. Let us hunt!

Masao growls under her breath as her glance back finds the fleeing shape already gone. The bird-like howl elicits a slight duck of her head that's almost a wince. Hand tightening around the shotgun, she takes a moment to scan the area around her group for anyone or anything that could be coming at them from other angles.

Laura shifts her position to offer the Galliard more cover, facing a little more to the west. She lets slack the bowstring, ready to draw and fire the arrow at a moment's notice.

Pierces Ice holds a fist in the air, signaling those with her to hold fire. She waits, eyes seeking further sign for just a moment before turning to those with her. ~Let the Galliard's call ring out. Let the others take down this one. Be ready in case more come. If they do not, we will sweep north, find their holes.~

Kaz's Call does indeed ring out. She carefully puts the gun down, since, after all, it's not as if she can use it in Crinos, and growls under her breath. Clearly, she'd rather be fighting than ululating, but there it is.

Three Garou go off to the west as fast as their paws will carry them. Great funnels of grass spread out behind, like the wake of boats in the sea. Two go more cautiously, north-west, where a clump of fir trees sits awkwardly against the breezy meadow. The forest where the remainder of the Garou stalk is silent excpet for the terrible sound of Kaz's continuing call. Slowly, the smell of the body on the floor begins to wind its way into the winds. It smells of liquor and sweat, and of course the rich meaty smell of blood that's pouring so quickly into the grassy earth.

Jihgfed pages to the room: Ah, splitting up. Every GM's bane.

Jihgfed pages to Fire-Burns and Circle Keeper: This is a grove of evergreens, thick as thistles, the canopy so low it will prick a wolf's ears as it passes. The trees are young but stunted, and the brush is thick, with mad tangles of broken branches and a thick pine needle carpet. Here the greens of spring are already turning to the browns of summer; there's a sense of brittleness and death; despite their youth many of the trees are as cold and bare as bones. Here and there whole trees have been removed from the forest, cut at the root. The closer in you get the more there's the foetid smell of filth growing stronger and stronger, thicker and thicker: faeces and urine, vomit, sex, and blood, like all the sewers of the world have been dredged up and left to sit in the sun a few days. It isn't permeated, yet; it's shallow and hasn't seeped in to the trees and the earth. The fat full moon gleams through the needles of firs and shines off the dozens of bottles, cans, and shiny foil wrappers scattered throughout the undergrowth, thrown haphazardly. A single product predominates, a thin plastic bottle with a tacky old-fashioned label reading, `Newfie Screech`. You hear no signs of life except for the cooing of morningdoves, oblivious to what's below.

Laura holds her fire, despite her seething Rage. She watches intently for any sign of the Enemy, her nose twitching irritably at the reek of the dead one.

Kaz glares at nothing in particular as she grates out further variations on the Call.

As Ciuraq and Clemency slowly and steadily press through the brush, the Uktena seems to take on considerable irritation to his posture. Backing up a distance, he growls out to Jacinta to get her attention, before silently telling her 'nothing'.

Masao turns her attention back towards the copse when her quick search of the area yields nothing outward. She actually stares dead-on at the trees and fidgets in place like she wants to go there.

Jihgfed pages to the room: Those off in groups, please page just to me and to your own group.

Fire-Burns's face shows disgust at the defilement of the area. ~The filthy, filthy, filthy things,~ she snarls to Circle Keeper. ~They die for this, here, now.~ With that threat she presses ahead of the Uktena a little, searching eagerly for further targets.

Kaz mutters something to Jacinta.

Kaz grunts, and heads west, with appropriate care, the grating ululation continuing. For now.

Jihgfed pages to the room: Hold a moment, please. For Clemency and Circle Keeper to fully scout the bush, and return, would take a good five minutes. They do indeed find nothing, so the poses can still hold, I just want to make sure the timeline's straight.

Jihgfed pages to Fire-Burns and Circle Keeper: And here's the centre of the group of trees: The great machine dominates this small clearing carved from the forest itself, a circle of snapped tree trunks and uprooted brush less than ten metres wide. Growing out of it, taller than three Garou, is a mammoth contraption of burnt trees and prefabricated plastic. The clearing seems barely wide enough to berth it; it gapes obscenely out, like a too-large infant scrambling out of its dark womb. The shadow it casts stretches cold out across the trees. Beneath it there's a fire pit where the skewers still hold chunks of unidentifiable meat, burnt to a cinder. There were no bathrooms, no bedrooms here: it looks like a communal cess-pit used for weeks, for all purposes, and with the detritus of its use still fetid and almost eagerly presented, as if purposefully. Hanging from the great machine, from the plastic basket of weight, a girl is bound by the hands; her eyes are sunken, her clothes hang off of her like drapery from a skeleton, and she has been dead for days. Her head hangs limply, a tussle of dirt-blonde hair all that's visible. There are bottles everywhere, but still no signs of life.

Jihgfed pages to Fire-Burns and Circle Keeper: It's not terribly far - that's why heading to the copse, completely scouting it for Dancers, and returning, takes only five minutes.

Laura gathers her arrows, puts them into the quiver, then begins stalking west, watching every step.

Jihgfed pages: From the looks of the body, it's starvation. You're no doctormetician, though.

From afar, to Jihgfed and Fire-Burns, Circle Keeper growls low to the Silver Fang, stamping his foot in the indicated direction: No. Charach says den is this way. Follow, he adds, starting to move at the same, measured pace to the west. With as much compassion as a poptart, he leaves the deceased woman there without comment.

Masao nods sharply and rises from her crouch fluidly, moving cautiously to the west. There's a barely restrained tension in her posture and an expression somewhere between trepidation and curiousity.

Slowly Helen gets her things together and follows the other Garou, jaw set, eyes darting about anxiously.

You paged Jihgfed and Circle Keeper with 'Clemency runs up to the bound girl and places a hand on her cold body. For a moment she doesn't move. Then she whirls round, and the savage look on her face would frighten the Wyrm itself. She doesn't speak to the Uktena or acknowledge his presence; she takes off at a gallop, howling in wordless fury, in the direction he indicated. Unlike his measured pace, she's moving at full tilt, no caution or restraint.'. You paged Jihgfed with 'She's gone. Frenzy :)'.

From afar, to Jihgfed and Fire-Burns, Circle Keeper growls as Clemency passes him, then picks up his pace slightly also.

Circle-Keeper has rendezvoused with the rest, who are now moving west at a brisk pace as they cross the meadow, following, though more slowly and with the reservations of caution, the moon-addled Silver Fang who shot raging westwards from the copse of trees just a few seconds ago.

Circle Keeper keeps up his faster pace, trying to keep up with the Silver Fang to an extent. ~Nothing.~ He pants out to the packmate as he passes. ~Their home.~

Pierces Ice picks up the pace a bit, still cautious, but more hurried.

Fire-Burns has evidently thrown all caution, and possibly all sanity, to the winds. Howling wildly and wordlessly she's running as fast as her legs will carry her, ahead of the rest, arms raised and claws curled ready to strike.

Laura sets her arrow away and slings her bow over her shoulder. She moves to one side, to get a different view of the situation. No orders this time-she watches Jacinta for cues and direction.

Having ceased her calling at the Wendigo's direction, Kaz keeps with the westward heading group and matches pace. Breath for the quick travel comes easier without the howl to keep up.

Masao, on the other hand, seems reluctant to follow for a moment. The Ragabash pauses to give the copse an indescribable look and murmur before she takes off again to catch up with the group.

The Ahroun at the head of the pack leads not with strength or purpose but with blind rage. Her flashing claws mince through the grass and bushes in her way, and her wordless ambition is simply to put distance beneath her paws and sate the bloodlust that drives every action. She quickly outpaces the more cautious Garou behind her, who face the choice of either abandoning caution as the Silver Fang has and beating down the wind, or letting her move off on her own, beyond their immediate succour.

Pierces Ice snarls out an order for Fire Burns to hold back, but does not let her group run heedless of the traps of which they've been warned. Chafing at the need for caution, she maintains as quick a pace as she dares.

Fire-Burns shows no sign whatever of hearing or heeding Pierces-Ice. She maintains both her speed and her menacing wordless howls.

Laura bares her teeth at Fire-Burns' disappearing form. She dithers a moment, then changes course, the better to keep an eye on her packmate.

Two groups converge: out of the western undergrowth, Walks-the-Middle-Road and Voice-of-the-Unspoken smash out of bushes and over tree stumps, as fast as their paws will let though without the urgency of pursuit. Fire-Burns meets them first though she doesn't stop for conversation; the rest of the Garou are not far behind. They meet beneath the morning sun, in the most serene of meadows, still with rage and spiritlessness buzzing about their minds.

Voice skids to a halt, whirling to see Fire-Burns fly past him. He lets out a growl but does not chase her down. Instead, he turns back to find the main group. As he does, he hooks up with his partner--Walks-Middle. Snarling out information in quick, succinct words, he tells Pierces Ice and Circle Keeper what he knows. ~Five, maybe more, due west in a house. Culls stayed to watch. Some went north, one chased us, but went back.~

Circle Keeper keeps up his accelerated pace, giving Stacey a once over as if to make sure alll the parts she left with are still there.

Walks-Middle slows to a stop as she reaches the group, turning around to move west with them as Voice speaks. She growls her agreement to his explanation, but has nothing to add to it herself.

Pierces Ice snarls out frustration. ~Start at the house. Two groups, as before. Circle Keeper to the left, my group right until we meet. We'll catch the runners after.~

Laura and Helen rush along with the others. Traps are checked for, though not as thoroughly as they could be. Both women are intent on whatever is ahead, the theurge a little edgier about her packmate. Rage simmers in both as they once more follow Jacinta's orders, banking to the right when the house comes into view.

Fire-Burns almost collides with Voice and Walks-Middle as she goes barrelling by them, paying them no more heed than she did Pierces-Ice a second ago. She's heading west at full steam ahead, and if her wild face and incoherent snarls are anything to go by, whatever she meets to the west will have cause to regret the meeting.

Masao catches up to Kaz and paces her tribemate as the meadow is traversed. At the brief meet-and-greet with the some of the rest of the morning's party, they exchange quick grins before moving onward. They, too, shift to the right to keep the group together.

Voice, with the word from Jacinta, sets off yet again back west. He moves quicker and with less caution than is probably prudent. Having already been over the ground twice, he moves as though he believes the way he picks is safe.

Through brush and small groups of trees Fire-Burns chases imaginary monsters that look the same as she. Two groups fork around the mad Crinos. The scenery flits by, a succession of blurs, and the cottage is made in no time flat. Fire-Burns goes through the door without opening it, a mess of splinters and fury; the rest of the Garou are behind, converging at the house a good time after - some thirty seconds, an eternity in the bloody-eyed moments of pursuit and combat.

Jihgfed pages: You're out of frenzy. There's a dead girl at your feet, in a house that's full of bottles of liquor and tacky upholstery.

From afar, to the room, Voice renames Fire-Burns Ignores-Doors.
Walks-Middle pages to the room: Yeah, that's the second door this week! Voice pages to the room: Doors-Bane!
Masao pages to the room: Burns-Through-Doors.

Circle Keeper leads his group around to the left side of the house, looking for the first available door on that side of the building to barrel through. Failing that, the hispo promotes a window to the same function.

Voice is looking for Culls the Herd. Not seeing her makes him nervous. He does as Circle Keeper suggests, but he also uses his noae, trying to find the alpha's scent--and the others' scents as well.

Pierces Ice moves to the right as she also seeks entry to the house. But as well, she keeps an eye out for what may be beyond the house.

Laura fights the urge to Change just long enough to take off her bow and secure her arrows-the bow is tossed into the grass, the arrows capped in their quiver. Helen does the same, and both women flank Pierces-Ice in the search for an entrance/enemy.

Fire Burns> The haze of frenzy is beginning to lift from your eyes. Things are beginning to coalesce in shapes and forms that are intelligible to the non-instinctual mind: there's the sofa, it's for sitting on. It's an ugly one, even you know that. Your breath comes quickly. There's beer and bottles on the couch and there's the sound of white fuzz from the television. It's a smooth, cooling sound, that helps you ground yourself and eases the smashing of your heart. The television box - an ancient one, set into its own stand - is knocked to the floor, its whole corner a maelstrom of broken bits of wood and drywall and blood. The flicker of the screen lights everything up in pale colours, the morning sun can't pierce the blinds. Crumpled in the mess of the corner is the barely distinguishable body of a young girl, fifteen or so, well-fed, not exactly pretty, ripped to ribbons.

Walks-Middle follows behind Circle Keeper and Voice, keeping attentive and looking about for any sign of the spirals.

The Gnawer caboose on this little Garou train keeps eyes and ears alert as they bring up the rear. Kaz and Masao turn their senses in opposite directions from each other as they run to look for targets and keep their backtrail clean.

If Circle-Keeper wants a window, he's got it: the whole southern side of the house is one huge window, stretched out in full 50s splendour, from one faux-rock corner of the house to the other. Breaking through it isn't only easy, it's fun. The house inside has thick smells of sweat and plastic, and is in the poorest state of clutter, with pizza boxes and empty bottles all over, like a group of particularly filthy squatters had taken up residence.

Voice's hispo nostrils flare as he catches a rather strong scent. He snarls to get Pierces Ice's attention. ~This way,~ he tells both her and Circle Keeper, padding quickly toward the north. He seems anxious, and the house does not hold his attention at all anymore. ~North.~

Fire-Burns, inside the house, is motionless now at last. Her attention is held firmly by the white-noise buzzing of a television set, pictureless and staticky, on its side on the floor. She's panting as though exhausted, or coming out of a fit.

No sooner is he in, Ciuraq lashes around in a circle, before Voices gets his attention. Departing the way he came, he readly abandons the building for heading north outside.

Walks-Middle turns with a faint growl at Voice's call and heads north, keeping pace with Circle Keeper and the Get.

Pierces Ice turns, nose working to try to catch whatver scent hold's the Get's nose. She hurries after, but snarls an order to Masao to hang back slightly and range out, keeping watch. The others are told to V, letting the Fostern Ragabash take point.

Pierces Ice pages to the room: Masao and Helen, opposite sides.

There is an order, and the Furies obey. They each take their hispo forms. Child-Holder falls in behind the others on the right side of the V, and Helen rushes out a little farther, ready to scout.

Voice eagerly takes the point. Occasionally his nose lowers to make sure he follows the trail left by Culls the Herd, but it seems mostly unnecessary--so strong is the trail. He lopes along as swiftly as he can, tongue out and slavering a little. The chase is making him restless. The Get wants blood.

It is a fairly obvious urine trail that the Garou are following: Vera has marked her way quite clearly. Beneath it, almost blotted out by the acrid smell of intentional marking, is the smell of the Dancers they track, heavy and complex like the smell of old cheese or infection. It's ten minutes before they come on the Adren Shadow Lord herself, loping along as fast as she can while still following the long thick trail of scent.

Masao drops back behind Kaz and to the left, fanning out and dropping down into hispo to stretch her legs out. The Galliard ahead of her does much the same but is on four paws by the time the Ragabash is in position and shifting, senses keen.

She's broken two doors this week. Perhaps three in a week is unlucky or something, for when the door at the back of the cottage opens to let Fire-Burns out it does so in the normal way. The Ahroun looks round a little woozily before seeing and scenting the others, and picking up speed again -- not her previous mad dash, but a more controlled sprint to catch up.

Circle Keeper remains marginally behind the Get Ragabash, trying to keep with the pace the best he can, despite the smells about.

Culls-The-Herd looks up as the others catch up with her, tongue lolling. ~They have pulled ahead and flee in fear, but their trail is still fresh.~

Voice continues forward north, whirls back to make sure that the others still follow, and then continues north.

Pierces Ice urges Voice of the Unspoken forward, her packmates flanking her, those of the Gibbous moon just a bit behind and the cliath ragabash ranging out from there. Catch them, her posture says as she continues on.
Child-Holder and Cycle-Breaker encourage once another with chuffs and posture, the no-moon a little more silent than the theurge. The chase, and Gaia's Vengeance, is everything now.

Voice's dark golden eyes gleam with focused energy at Pierces Ice's order. He moves out with a purpose now.

Fire-Burns picks up speed until she's on the heels of Circle Keeper and Voice. ~What happened? How many more?~ she pants at them as they run.

Walks-Middle follows along behind her packmates and the Get, what anxiety she'd felt has long left her in the midst of running back and forth.
Ears and Leaves-None continue to pound paws to dirt in the race to catch the fleeing foes. The thrill of the chase spurs them on while the newmoon keeps tabs on the surrounding area.

It's easy enough to follow the trail the Dancers leave behind: their unwashed stink is hard to miss. Morning begins to slip towards noon, and the mornindoves are replaced by sparrows and larks which everywhere sing the Garou's passing. It's impossible to tell whether they're catching up or not by scent alone - but it's easy to tell when the trail forks into four.

Voice growls in frustration. He stands at the four point fork to wait for the others to catch up. While they gather, he uses his nose again to gather as much as he can about the various scents--how many, and who went in which direction.

Culls-The-Herd sniffs furiously at the ground, where the scents split off into different directions. ~Their Alpha is female,~ the Shadow Lord notes.

Walks-Middle pages to the room: Damn. I can't hit a woman.
Voice pages to the room: I can! er.
Child-Holder pages to the room: That's like, practically our job!

Circle Keeper sniffs at the ground a few moments, before looking to the Wendigo Fostern, panting. Takes Walks-Middle. Goes this way, he indicates with a question.

Jihgfed pages to the room: There are four different scents, two female, all lupine, all sick.

Fire-Burns runs up behind Circle Keeper, sniffing keenly. ~They scatter.
They fear us,~ she sneers, and without waiting for orders she starts to hare off up the leftmost of the four scent-paths.

Walks-Middle steps a bit closer to Circle Keeper as she is indicated, glancing down the path and then looking over to Pierces Ice expectantly.

Pierces Ice takes in the scents and quickly gestures toward each of the four trails. ~Voice of the Unspoken, Fire Burns Forever,~ she snarls at the first trail. She grunts assent to her packmate and then points to the third. ~Ears to the Ground, Leaves None Behind, Culls the Herd.~ Then she swings her head toward the Black Furies. ~With me,~ and she's off on the fourth trail without a backward look.

Child-Holder watches her packmate run off, then turns back. She and Cycle-Breaker sort themselves out, then both of the glossy black hispo charge after the Wendigo Fostern.

Circle Keeper takes off again once his question is confirmed, jogging down the indicated trail.

The Gnawer pair pause long enough to get directions and fall in with the Shadow Lord before taking off up the third trail.

Voice takes off down the first path with only a cursory glance to see if the Silver Fang has the sense to follow.

The paths are quiet except for the panting of Garou and the call of songbirds which clutter the air, filling it with soft cacophany. They weave around human civilization, catching the backs of chain link fences, breaking through gravel roads. The sun has grown high over the sky and it beats now with a ferocity unlike spring, sapping energy and making madness.

Clemency, Ethan> You travel your path for ten solid minutes, more or less abreast, noses fast against the ground. The smell of the Black Spiral Dancer is infuriatingly close, you can practically taste its stench in your mouth. The distracting noise of starlings is a nuisance, the sun seeps into your pores. Another scent begins to intermingle - upon realizing what it is you look up, almost too late, see bushes shake as hidden wolves burst Crinos. It's all movement and rush and they're on you - three of them? Four? It's impossible to tell: all you see is claws and darkness and the growing well of rage.

Jihgfed pages to Fire-Burns and Voice: Please pose to the room only what they might catch: i.e., howls and sounds. This is the first round of combat. Ethan, you, having a higher wits, _are_ able to tell that there's four of them exactly, all Crinos now, and panting hard. They attack with mad anger but there's fear in them also.

From the direction in which Ethan and Clemency ran come the sounds of garou in battle, snarls and howls. Then there's a sudden silent explosion of light in that same direction.

Voice pages to Jihgfed and Fire-Burns: Before I pose, is this assumption correct: Normal combat sounds they wouldn't hear, but the group (our other PC groups) would hear a howl for help?
Jihgfed pages to Fire-Burns and Voice: Normal sounds they'd barely make out. Howls would be pretty clear.

You paged Jihgfed and Voice with 'Fire-Burns leaps upon the nearest enemy garou, with teeth and claws all flashing. Then as she does so, she seems to explode in a massive ball of blinding white light. (She's activated Lambent Flame)'.

From afar, to Jihgfed and Fire-Burns, Voice is so eager to be in combat at this point, he lunges forward rather than think clearly. He slams into the first garou to come from the bush, teeth sinking into sullen and sickly flesh with some satisfaction. Tearing back and forth violently, the direness of his situation eventually dawns on him. The ragabash tries to elude the attackers, using his speed to dodge and bite where he has the chance. Only then does a rallying call come out. It's clipped and hurried, but clearly a howl for help.

Not long after the flash of light, a howl rises into the otherwise serene sunny afternoon. It's the voice of Voice of the unspoken, a clear call for help.

Jihgfed pages to Fire-Burns and Voice: It's a blind flash of claw and light. Three are on Clemency: it's by luck and surprise that she's not dead. The sudden brightness sends claws this way and that, awry and awkward, dark limbs against the bright sunshine and Falcon's gifts. Voice only has to deal with one, but it's a big one: it stretches in for his legs, teeth against hamstring, but the Ragabash narrowly manages to swing his leg away and use its leverage to come down on the monster like a theatre sandbag. Fire-Burns for her efforts has entrails on her claws.

You paged Jihgfed and Voice with 'Clemency is pretty much biting and clawing whatever's closest and in reach, as before. Aiming for eyes, bellies, and other familiar week spots.'.

From afar, to Jihgfed and Fire-Burns, Voice harries the big monster that's chosen him. He remains in hispo, darting in to bite, only to dash back away, trying to stay clear of the thing's grip while doing as much damage as he can.

Jihgfed pages to Fire-Burns and Voice: Fire-Burns is like a rag doll between a trio of dogs, though her claws sing. One of the beasts goes down but her howl of pain and fury fills the air, scaring off the birds, bristling past the leaves. Her body frantically struggles to knit itself back together and red takes her eyes and her beautiful coat. Voice-of-the-Unspoken is controlling his share of the fight, trading blow for blow, dodge for dodge, though his hit heavier, and move swifter. Clem, you've rage-healed back from -11 to -6. You're also frenzied - fox or berserk, your choice.

You paged Jihgfed with 'Oh, Clemency's keen, she can manage two berserks in one night. She's all yours, pose her away.'.

From afar, to Jihgfed and Fire-Burns, Voice, seeing Clemency's condition, breaks off from the one he's been attacking to leap up on the back of one of the Silver Fang's assailants. It leaves him vulnerable to the one he's been fighting, but he makes the sudden attack count for as much as he can. He goes right for the throat.

It's death and violence beneath the noonday sun. The trees let through enough light to plainly see the bodies and the blood, glistening in dark splatches against bark and fur. After one last wrenching effort Fire-Burns' light has faded: she has died with her claws in the Wyrm. Voice-of-the-Unspoken is alone against the three creatures that still stand, or limp, or hunch: they are on him like dogs, fierce and with no sense left in them, their eyes wild, teeth bloodied, madness in them, while he is on one of them himself, practically riding the thing, smashing claws into its neck with wild urgency. The thing laughs as he does, it crows like a rooster with its throat scraped, it tries to throw back its head but the knives of the Ragabash' hands slice the tendons that hold the head up. It's this, through the slats of trees, that the two groups of Circle-Keeper and Walks-the-Middle, and Pierces-Ice and Child-Holder, see.

Circle Keeper, once he's free of the trees and closer in, surges up to Crinos in a heartspan and flings his silver tipped spear at the one closest to him with all his heft.

No hesitation, no further battle plan. ~Take them out!~ Pierces the Ice howls, rushing forward herself.

Walks-Middle lets out a fierce growl as she flows up into Crinos, rushing forward to leap into the fray, claws ready to sink into what Dancer she can reach.

All of the control that has kept Child-Holder from rushing after her packmate snaps. She rockets to crinos, screaming obscenities that mix every language she knows. She barrels ahead, directly for whoever, whatever carries the sickening stench of the Wyrm.

Cycle-Breaker is slightly less blinded by her Rage. She jinks and weaves, then abruptly rushes one of the Black Spiral Dancers, hispo jaws aiming to close on its leg.

Voice is done with feinting and playing. He strikes out at anything in front of him, digging into flesh, tearing through fur and hide, ignoring the same that's done to him. The ragabash is drenched in their blood as well as his own, and it lends the Get an eerie, obscene aspect.

Culls-The-Herd shifts into crinos as she joins the fray, claws at the ready as she goes to the aid of Voice-Of-The-Unspoken.

The fallen Silver Fang's body blurs for the final time as she returns in her dying to her birthform. She's landed on her back, and her grey eyes are open. As Pierces-Ice comes howling and leaping to fight the Dancers over her fallen form, she looks up at the Wendigo through darkening eyes, and somehow finds the strength to give a cry of joy. "Spikes! Spikes! You came back... for me..." and those are the last words she speaks as she slumps backwards.

Another of the Dancers goes down, silver slipping over her shoulder and then a fistful of claws coming up in her stomach. She goes down in blood and glory and Voice-of-the-Unspoken goes down right after her, though he at least comes back up shortly afterwards in a groaning exertion of willpower and rage, hurling himself blearily back up to his feet. The Dancers push past him: the gleam of silver puts fear in their mad eyes, and they both turn their attention to Pierces-Ice, to meet her weapon with their own gnarly hands.

Circle Keeper's not going to go for that, however. Seeing Jacinta being cornered by the two, The Uktena puts on speed that seems impossible for him, throwing himself, claws and teeth, at one of them with a roar.

Child-Holder continues her incoherent screaming, managing to center in on one of the still-moving Spirals. She channels her Rage to move fast and sharp at the thing, attacking with claw and fang.

Walks-Middle also rushes forward, throwing herself on the other Spiral that nears Jacinta, drawing on her Rage as she lunges forward, aiming to claw or bite as possible.

Cycle-Breaker fits where she can, nipping at heels, slashing at legs.

The Gnawer Express, perhaps a little off its timetable, come pounding in at the Alpha's heels and spring into Crinos. Ears goes high, Leaves-None goes low, the smaller Ragabash going for legs, forelimbs, anything of the Dancers that come within her reach.

Voice's limbs entangle with the dead Spiral. He struggles to get to his feet, slipping back down in all the blood and gore. Disoriented for a moment, he snarls at the dead abomination he's tangled up with, and then he sees Clemency. The fury and anger drain somewhat as he looks at the lifeless Silver Fang. Once again, he struggles to his feet, determined.

Pierces Ice's rushes forward, knife a blur in her attack. No words, just a growl of nonverbal hatred escapes her throat.

With silver in play, things go quickly, though not smoothly. The fear that enters even the far-gone Dancer's eyes at the soft white metal spurs them to action and they are on Pierces-Ice with claws and fury as she neatly slices the muscles from their bones. They spill like slit wine sacks onto the ground but their claws are still sharp and their eyes are still wild, they batter her about, their teeth catch her neck. Circle-Keeper's interposition takes the claw that may have killed her. Then it's chaos with Garou from all sides on the pair and taking out all their stored rage and hatred and frustration; it seems to take minutes for the flesh to stop flying from their bones, their blood seeping into the dirt, making a thick red soup.

Circle Keeper doesn't stop. He keeps clawing and tearing: Flesh is pulled from flesh, flesh is pulled from bone, bone is pulled from vicsera, and viscera are torn up even finer. He seems intent on butchering the thing until there's nothing left to butcher, and with quite agressive abandon, growling all the way.

The knife is sheathed without thought as Pierces the Ice clamps a hand over the blood-spurting wound in her neck. Unlike her packmate, she steps back from the carnage once the enemies have fallen. She also sinks down to a three limbed crouch, white fur gone a deep red on nearly all of her left side. For too long, blood continues to flow beneath her ham-hand.

Voice manages to get to his feet only to slip in the river of gore and fall back on his ass. A snarl escapes his muzzle, but he has the sense, now that things have calmed, to stay put this time. His breath is ragged and uneven.

It's been years since Child-Holder has unleashed her ferocity so thoroughly. As the Enemy falls, she stops, as though she's not quite sure what to do. Cycle-Breaker scouts the clearing, searching for more trails, more hidden enemies, as the theurge stares at her paws. Then it's as though she's snapped out of it. Child-Holder slips to her human form and raises her chin. Her expression is blank as she rounds on the nearest wounded party.

Circle Keeper finally pulls himself off the dead body, but not before urinating on it first. Covered in gore, he limps over to his weapon and pulls it out of the dead body, eyes searching the ground as he goes.

Culls-The-Herd's claws are red, but its hard to say how much damage she caused the enemy. She looks over those gathered, eyes expressionless. Jacinta's state causes her to lay back her ears, but the Wendigo remains alive and that seems to be enough to satisfy the Adren. Walking over to the fallen Silver Fang's body, Culls-The-Herd picks her up and cradles the limp form in a surprisingly gentle manner. ~There is too much silver here, it saps our spiritual energy,~ she rumbles, mostly to herself. ~Pierces-Ice, the battle is over. Shall we return home?~

Walks-Middle also backs away once the Dancers have fallen, her claws dripping with blood. She lets out a few ragged breaths, then takes a couple steps toward Clemency's body, stopping as Vera picked her up, the Child's expression twisted in grief and rage.

Fury is fury and it does its job well when unleashed. The claws of Ears and Leaves-None do their part, separating and backing off and away from the carnage when there is no more to be done. It takes great effort for Leaves-None to remain quiet, but she does so with some willpower and simply exudes a mixture of sadness and fading anger.

Jihgfed pages to the room: Clean up can be done by +mail. That's six Dancers dead (Clemency killed on in the house before anyone even arrived, which you'd find out if/when you searched the place). Thanks for coming, everyone. Sorry it was so long and so draining.

Pierces Ice's hand is still clamped over her neck, though the flow of blood has lessened. Her eyes narrow at Vera and she scans the area. It takes obvious effort, but she forces herself upright again. ~Take the Silver Fang home. Ears to the Ground, I leave you responsible for the bodies. Leaves None Behind, Cycle Breaker...~ She pauses, looking over to Voice of the Unspoken, ~Are you well enough?~

Circle Keeper pokes at one of the bodies, a homid, stabbing it once or twice more as it to make sure it's still dead. Planting his spear to the side, he straddles the body, only to pull out his knife and start cutting off the head.

Voice actually starts to laugh. It sounds disturbingly similar to the calls of the Spirals from earlier. ~Me? Of course,~ he tells the Wendigo. and though it's a struggle, he manages to get to his feet. Offers of aid are met with a quick, snap-jawed rejection.

~Care to walk back with me?~ Culls-The-Herd asks of the Get of Fenris, as she starts the long walk back toward the Caern.

Leaves-None turns her gaze to Pierces Ice with solemn attentiveness, flexing her hands a few times fitfully. Ears gives a short nod of assent and looks about the scene measuringly.

Pierces Ice nods to the Get, the gesture setting off a fresh flow of blood. She winces, stills her head, and tightens her hand over her neck. ~Their home and camp still needs to be searched. The areas between, Grey said, lay rife with traps. We need to clean it, before we can call ourselves done.~

Laura doesn't get too close to Pierces Ice, apparently functioning on autopilot as she tries to get a look at the injury. Vera moving off draws her attention, she half-opens her mouth, then shuts it again. Instead, she waits.

Cycle-Breaker perks her ears at mention of the traps and the search. She pads nearer and chuffs agreement.

Leaves-None gives a dip of her head to the Wendigo and a brief look of concern for the neck-wound.

Pierces Ice looks from Garou to Garou, her movements slow and unsteady. ~I am honored to have fought beside each of you.~ She dips her head ever so slightly, eyes half-closing. "Quyana" ~for your help.~

Laura's hand shakes a bit as she pulls off her jacket and begins to tear it to pieces. "Stay still," she says, stepping forward, winding the makeshift bandage around her hand. "Let me cover it. I need a needle." Each sentence delivered matter-of-factly.

Leaves-None reluctantly speaks in that squeaky, gravelly grating voice again, tones clipped but deeply respectful. ~The honor is shared, Pierces Ice-rhya.~

Voice watches and listens to the Wendigo's words. Silently he also watches Laura attend to her. Then, he begins moving off in the direction of Vera and Clemency, slowly making his way home.


===============================================

The letter to Grey:

It's in Clemency's bag, which (if Dillen does as he's asked) is delivered to you after the battle.

Dear Thomas,

I know I said I was sorry when I heard I wasn't to fight alongside you today, but I'm afraid that was kind of a lie. I'm glad you aren't there because I have a bad feeling about this one, and if you're reading this letter, you'll know I was right to have that bad feeling, because I'll be dead. (As you know, the duty of a Silver Fang is always to be right.)

I've told Dillen to get my bag back to you if I fall. Apart from clothes and things there's only really three things I possess that are worth a damn either financially or emotionally. My mp3 player, please give to Emma. She was always trying to teach me to control myself and music was the only way that ever worked a damn. I hope she'll play some of the Chopin and Tchaikovsky sometimes. And tell her that if she doesn't make Fostern I'll fucking haunt her.

The sketchbook contains a lot of my work. If any of the garou of the sept want them, they can have them to remember me by. But I want my packmates to have first pick if there's a dispute.

Lastly, there's some photographs. Assuming there's enough left of me to bury, and assuming there's a caern left to bury me in, can you please put them in with me? I know it's a crazy psycho thing to ask but when was I ever about anything but being a crazy psycho, huh. Feel free to look at them. The photos of me in a group are my old pack. You guys might get to be as good as them one day, specially once I'm gone and no longer dragging you down. You kick ass, all of you. It was an honor.

There's also a photo of a little kid. If you're wondering, he's my son. Adam. It wasn't safe to be round him, not after what I did to his father. But, one last favor for you, if you can. Can you get word to Ruth Kye back at the One Bright Star. (Last address I had for her was 228-B Axholme Road, Bluffton, SC 29910. No idea if it's still valid. She didn't seem to want to talk to me any more after I ate my husband, with him being her brother and all.)

Can't think of much more to say, and I never was brilliant with words, so I'll leave it at that. It was a pleasure to know you and get drunk with you, Thom.

C.

Ash Grove(#4024RJh)
Within this dark forest dominated by the canopy of the tenacious, light-hungry pines is a place where a stand of ash has established itself and fought off all competition. The ashes allow the rays of sun and moon alike to lance down through limbs which bear nothing more than clusters of rust-coloured keys, such that undergrowth abounds and the forest floor is even clad with a bright green sward of grass. Bright white bits of bone peep through the green, testament to a history of food offerings in this place.
These habitual offerings have accomplished their purpose and, during daytime, a great number of carrion birds roost in the branches of the trees, predominately the large black bodies of crows and ravens. The grove is deserted at night, the birds having left for other sanctuary.

Dillen looks to Stacey. "He has a right to know I have them and whatever he wishes for them I will do." Then a nod. "I shall. To both of you." And with that, he's headed off towards the farmhouse.

Far-Cry watches his former packmate go, exhaling a little heavier when the galliard is out of range. As Stacey leaves with Dillen, the halfmoon gives himself a quick shake and settles back down where he stands to rest.

A few minutes pass before Fire-Burns returns from her run, cantering into the clearing at an easy lope. Hello, hello, I am back, I ran, she tells Far-Cry as she trots over to him. I ran far, I ran fast.

Far-Cry, head down on his paws, lifts it when he hears the other wolf's approach. The philodox's question next is accompanied with a lick of his muzzle. See anything good to eat?

I was not looking for prey, Fire-Burns tells Far-Cry. I was looking for Dancers. And they are not good to eat, no, no. Taste of the Wyrm, make you sick, make you warped.

Far-Cry splays an ear with an obvious 'well duh' kind of look, making much assumption to the taste of BSD flesh. His head lowers another notch, looking almost like it's going to flop back onto his forepaws, but doesn't quite make it there. I have never seen one. Never fought one. Never bit one.

Fire-Burns walks round Far-Cry thoughtfully, then lies down near him, her head towards his. I have, she informs him. They are fearsome. They are like us. So like us that it can be confusing if many fight on each side. But we will kill them, yes, kill them all, and you will go on to kill many more.

It would take a Garou to kill a Garou properly, the Shadow Lord observes distantly. He looks over to the ahroun. When did you fight them?

Before I came here, Fire-Burns recalls. My pack and another pack fought them on a beach. It was a good fight, we won. Two of the other pack died but none of mine, no, not that time... though many are dead now, she adds with a sad whine.

Far-Cry looks down at his paws, tongue reaching out for swipe over one and clean off a speck of dirt. What do you see here that is different from there? he asks, gazing back over.

Spikes-The-Drinks is not here, Fire-Burns responds with another dejected whine. Her ears lie down flat and she licks at her front paw.

I meant, Far-Cry expands, what can be done to win the fight with these intruders? What says two packs win on a beach, and a whole sept does not lose?

Fire-Burns lies her head on her paws and considers. The beach was open, yes, we could all see each other. Here is the woods, we cannot see well. Perhaps hear, perhaps smell. Also on beach no humans near, no thing-to-throw-heads.

Far-Cry notes he is surprised they haven't thrown big rocks yet. The philodox growls low, himself eager to get up and move, he rises to his paws and paces again. Then after a few caged lion-like turns, he refocuses on the ahroun. Your pack, is it well?

My pack? Fire-Burns enquires, seeming a little lost in thought or memory. My pack now?

Yes, Havoc. The philodox's gold gaze is on the Fang again. Far-Cry's full attention seems to be searching the ahroun, but not in a directly invasive manner.

They are well, yes, yes, Fire-Burns confirms, still seeming distracted. Stone-Spirit is sad because her father died and Escapes-From-Money does not leave her den because of her voice but they are all healthy.

Far-Cry starts his pacing anew, himself quickly distracted with his own thoughts as well. The Shadow Lord completes far too many laps before he then asks, Will they be out here? Defending the caern when the others go to war with the Black Spiral Dancers?

I do not know, is Fire-Burns' answer. I hope they will either fight or guard the caern and cubs but I do not know because I have seen none of them for days, no, not since I broke the way into the farm and shouted at Pierces-Ice-rhya.

Far-Cry looks up at the mention of cubs. Walks-Middle wishes the Glass Walkers to keep her cubs at their safeden. The others, I do not know either. His attention keeps there, upon mention of the broken farm door and shouting at the Wendigo. The halfmoon's ears tilt, asking for him a silent question after it.

She said I did nothing, Fire-Burns answers the unspoken question. And she called me a bad name, I do not know what it meant because it was in her strange tongue, yes, but it was bad, and I could tell because of the way she looked when she said it about me, yes, very bad, because she hates me because of what she says my ancestors did to hers. Fire-Burns delivers that statement in a torrent of angry lupine growls and gestures, then her head flops back down on her paws.

Far-Cry turns a tight circle, but it gives him an opportunity to move a few paces from the ahroun as well. What did you do, then? If not nothing. The Shadow Lord declines making any statement on the subjects of ancestors, sitting his rear end down and eyeing the fullmoon.

Recalls-the-Scars and I found out from the Corax that the Fallen Ones had a thing-that-throws-small-things and that is how the heads got onto the bawn, Fire-Burns responds proudly. And before that I have fought many things, yes, many bad things since I joined this sept. You know that.

Then there must be some other reason that she says you do nothing. Far-Cry quirks his head at an angle, inviting the ahroun to pierce the haze of indignance. It is as Walks-the-Middle-Road has said. Misunderstandings, maybe.

I shall not think of the matter further, Fire-Burns avows resolutely, until she and I have spoken with Walks-the-Middle-Road in attendance to keep us from throating each other. I will not think of her and her foolishness, no, no, I will not.

Far-Cry turns, gazing north with a snort. The Wyrm eats at the border and litters the bawn with its trash while you two fight over the differences of ancestors and deeds done.

Fire-Burns chuffs in a peeved way. I have made it clear that I am ready to fight, that we should fight as soon as we can, she points out. The leader of higher station chooses when the fight starts. Do you too say I do nothing, Shadow Lord?

Far-Cry looks back over his shoulder. Must you find a thorn pricking your pride in everything that is said? No, you have done much already. Leave the war planning to the Wendigo, and you prepare for when things go wrong.

If others would respect me as they should, there would be no thorns, Fire-Burns points out in the lupine equivalent of an angry mutter before rolling over onto one side, all four legs pointing in the same direction, and stretching.

A wry growl passes through the Shadow Lord. As they should, Far-Cry repeats, chewing over a thought. So the Wendigo does, for one who is beneath her in station. The halfmoon's observance is followed with his turn towards the north, looking to head towards the main forest of the bawn again.

I do not think of the Wendigo-rhya, Fire-Burns insists with more than a hint of stress. I do not speak of her. She too turns north once she's finished rolling around, and lifts her head, nose to the wind in the hope that it may bring her some clue to what's going on over there. Alas, the breeze is in the wrong quarter, and her nose learns nothing new.

Far-Cry glances back at the Fang. But you worry over her speaking of you, and so think of her. It's a little hard for the lupus mind to wrap around that one, which eventually gets overridden with the instinctual urges. The philodox notes that he's hungry, and hence, going to go hunt. There is a short pause afterwards, which lingers in a sort of silent invitation as well.

If I hunt too we can find larger prey, Fire-Burns points out. And it will stop me thinking of things I do not want me to think of. And we can pretend that it is the Fallen Ones we hunt. Yes. Yes. Shall we?

Far-Cry licks the side of his muzzle, agreeable to the thought of larger prey and more meat. The Shadow Lord, though, makes a passing comment about how he would rather not think of good deer flesh as that of the Wyrm since the Wyrm tastes bad. Then he turns to trot off, leading the way. I know a good animal path off the bawn. We can start there.

Ash Grove(#4024RJh)
Within this dark forest dominated by the canopy of the tenacious, light-hungry pines is a place where a stand of ash has established itself and fought off all competition. The ashes allow the rays of sun and moon alike to lance down through limbs which bear nothing more than clusters of rust-coloured keys, such that undergrowth abounds and the forest floor is even clad with a bright green sward of grass. Bright white bits of bone peep through the green, testament to a history of food offerings in this place.
These habitual offerings have accomplished their purpose and, during daytime, a great number of carrion birds roost in the branches of the trees, predominately the large black bodies of crows and ravens. The grove is deserted at night, the birds having left for other sanctuary.

Clemency is sitting cross-legged against a tree trunk, huddled up against the rain that's falling steadily, and looking even more grouchy than she normally does, if such be possible. One hand is holding a half-eaten and very battered-looking sandwich from which she occasionally takes a desultory bite.

Far-Cry's black furred form weaves around a trunk of ash, nose working as he scents out the sandwich amongst the scents brought to him by the breeze. The Shadow Lord pauses when he picks out Clemency's scent as well, but picks up his pace to a slightly quicker walk, circling around the full moon until she can see him clearly.

Clemency looks at the black wolf over the sandwich, and gives a shout as she recognises who this is. "Hey, you! Where've you been hiding?" The end of her shout is softer than the beginning, as though she's deliberately turning her own volume down, and there's a wary look on her face.

Far-Cry turns an ear back and then forward, finding a spot to sit. Found Walks-the-Middle-Road first. Saw kin next, he explains simply. The halfmoon glances skyward. Full moon and news of the Enemy brings me back here. Patrolling old pack territory.

"You heard then," Clemency says, still in a low tone as though she fears being overheard. "We're attacking them soon. Guardians are leading. Did you talk to Stacey about plans?"

Far-Cry snorts with a paw scraping the ground. Only that the Alpha Guardian wants select ones to go, others to stay and guard the heart in case it is a distraction. In this form there is no disguising the annoyance in his posture. I would go, if they would have me.

Clemency meets annoyance with annoyance. "They'd better have me along," she snaps, "after that colossal bitch Jacinta accused me of doing nothing just the other day. That was such a false accusation it's not true."

Far-Cry notes that he has been checking this area, should they circle around. The Shadow Lord then gazes off in a random direction and eyes the ahroun from the corner of his eye. When did you return?

Clemency scratches her head. "A week... maybe a little more," she responds, hesitantly. "Ever since I got back, my sense of time has gone kind of crazy."

Far-Cry dips his head, agreeing on that front. Walks-Middle said we were gone for more than a few moon turns. It does not feel that long. His eyes return to the ahroun. Our gift for following Coyote's whims.

Clemency snorts. "Have you tried to get back to the place where we were? Well... where we ahrouns were. I don't know where you and Grey went..."

Far-Cry looks hesitant, but then bolsters himself back up. I only remember the red tree opening up a path, but the path lead to some far away spot of the Shadow. When I stepped sideways to this side, I found myself far away and came back. Where did you and the others go?

"We three," Clemency says, "found ourselves in some strange umbral village. It seemed to be medieval. We were told of a great vampire who lived in a castle nearby and terrorised the people. But when we slept that night in the local inn... we woke up back here. At least I did... in a forest halfway to the Pacific coast, miles from anywhere."

Far-Cry cants his head, facial expression twisting to a curious, but not too interested consideration. The philodox rumbles quietly, and then dips his head. Whatever Coyote wanted us to do, it is not as important as defending here. So he concludes. Have all returned?

"Yeah. All back now. I still can't shake the idea," Clemency says, "that there was something in Coyote sending us there... that it wasn't just a big prank. But a few people I've spoken to think it was, so I should try to stop worrying. I need to spend more time in the Umbra as a whole..." She shrugs, and a piece of bread falls from the sandwich to the grass. "But yeah, caern comes first. Has to. I'm not leaving the bawn till there isn't a single Fallen One near."

Far-Cry roughly growls. Then you would be stuck here forever, as this is the last in this area. The Enemy has us surrounded, ever since its fall and retaking, so said Song-of-Fury.

"You're fucking kidding," Clemency gasps. "I know Seattle is full of the bastards, but the only time any of them have been seen round here since I joined this sept, we chased them away... would have killed them but they had too much of a start. That was last year. Are you seriously telling me they're all over the city and the surrounding countryside, or was Song-of-Fury speaking loosely? Who the hell is Song-of-Fury anyway?"

Storm-Singer, the Shadow Lord replies quite neutrally given the ire he holds for the mentioned, the elder whom Thunder's Forge and I killed. Then he shifts back to the other subject, Maybe not immediately here and eyeing this place like a snake eyes a bird's nest, but similar.

Clemency raises her eyebrows at the mention of an elder done to death, but doesn't pry further once the wolf changes the topic. "Sure, we must always be vigilant," she says, "but there's a difference between knowing they're out there and could launch an attack at any time, and knowing that they have the caern surrounded like a fucking ring of tainted fucking steel, y'know?"

Far-Cry bows his head once with the difference stated. Else we would not have any times of peace to challenge our elders in, he replies with a small, small feeling of black humor. The halfmoon gradually lowers himself down to lie on his belly, sphinx like and facing the ahroun.

Clemency reaches out with a wry smile to ruffle the inky-furred wolf's neckruff. "And I would still be Elder of my tribe," she says meditatively.

Having met up with Dillen earlier and been updated on the Ian situation, Stacey walks along with the Get through the bawn, still chatting about upcoming events. Their steps eventually bring them near the Ash Grove, close to Clemency's position. Upon hearing the Fang's voice, Stacey calls out a, "Hello, there!" and picks up her pace a bit.

Dillen picks up the pace as well and upon seeing the Philodox, Dillen cannot help but grin. "Kenneth..." He says softly, giving his head a nod. It's either that he doesn't quite know what to say or is just damn glad to see his friend.

Far-Cry's fur prickles underneath the touch, having not expected physical contact. He endures it rather calmly though, looking over the Fang. Not Elder anymore? Who is it now? His ears flip back as he ventures with, Not Truthstalker is it? Like he were horrified at the thought of it. His question is partly interrupted by the arrival of the others, and he turns his head to look at them. Dillen gets a familiar chuff of greeting, but it isn't anything by way of jumping up for joy.

"Blackriver claimed it in my absence," Clemency says, "and I could not in all honesty persuade myself that I would do it better than her, so I allowed her to keep it upon my return." At Far-Cry's headturn, Clemency also turns, to see the two new people approach. "Stacey!" she calls out. "What's new? Is it time?"

"Hey, Clemency, Far-Cry," Stacey greets them, grinning broadly. "Things might be tough now, but it is still damn good to see you both here. Anyways, not yet, but real soon. I wouldn't be surprised if we moved against them early tomorrow."

Dillen just takes in the people that are around him. He's glad to see Kenneth and that shows, but more than that, he listens at the moment.

Fighting soon? Far-Cry glances between the newly arrived pair, lingering a little longer on Dillen before turning back to Clemency. The lupus can be considerable. Less talk, more action. She has a different view than those trained here. In a way, the Shadow Lord also adds in the undertone of that view being more welcome.

Clemency jumps to her feet and clenches her fists in eagerness. This has the regrettable consequence that the already battered half-eaten sandwich she's clutching is turned to shreds of bread and cold meat, and she eyes it with a rueful look. "And is your pack alpha leading it?" she asks in tight and cautious tones.

Stacey tenses slightly, then nods to Clemency. "Yes. Jacinta-rhya would be the leader. I believe Jamethon-rhya will be among those guarding... unless things have changed since I last spoke with my packmates."

Dillen snaps out of his stir. "Wildfire will surely jump in in you have need of them." An uncomfortable air can been felt around Dillen speaking of the new pack.

"She spoke ill of me in the farmhouse," Clemency complains bitterly. "I insist that I should be allowed to fight these creatures. Not only because I am a great fighter, but to prove the falsehood in her words when she accused me of doing nothing." She starts to pace back and forth, giving Dillen a small nod at his offer and a tight smile.

Far-Cry takes notice, but says nothing. Rather, he looks to Stacey and adds, The Weaver fire-things can be gotten if the Warder wishes. The halfmoon then directs back to the ahroun. If you are still offended, then challenge her when this is over.

Stacey narrows her eyes slightly, then puts up her hands. "Listen, Clemency, I believe that you have both been offended by each other a couple times... But I also believe that neither intended to offend. Misunderstandings," she adds, her tone picking up a persuasive quality, and she offers a small smile. "After this fight is over, I would like a chance to speak with you both, see if things can't be straightened out. But either way, I will tell my pack you wish to fight."

Clemency gives a small grunt to Stacey, though it sounds less irate and menacing than her previous statements. "I think," she says, "I'm going to go for a lupus-run. I've got scary amounts of surplus energy pent up, waiting for this damn fight." She begins to shift as she finishes the sentence.

The Shadow Lord remains quiet, keeping opinions on the clash between others to himself. A few moments after Clemency's shift, he looks back to Dillen and Stacey. Where will the guards be?

Stacey lets out a slow breath, then nods. "Take care, Clemency. I'll let you know more when I find out." Looking back to Kenneth, she adds, "Some will be at the Caern, a few at the Farmhouse, and perhaps a few others patrolling. But most near the Heart."

Fire-Burns emits a short, sharp bark, runs around Stacey a couple of times in playful mode, then vanishes into the woods like a white blur.

Farmhouse: Kitchen and Dining Room
Homey is the first word to come to mind when looking at the farmhouse's kitchen. Dark, wood-paneled wainscoting covers the walls to about waist height, dark beige wallpaper continuing to the ceiling. Twin refrigerators occupy the north wall, facing the large six-burner stove on the south. The kitchen counter runs the length of the eastern wall, broken only by the double-basin sink. Cabinets run above and below the counter and a twin-pane window is set in the wall above the sink. A small pantry is set into an alcove alongside the refrigerators, presumably holding the deep freezer as well as shelves of dry goods.
Some twelve feet above the floor, a large chandelier hangs from the ceiling, lighting the dining room and casting long shadows over the bar to the kitchen. A long table occupies the center of the dining room, three chairs setting along each side, and one on each end. On the west wall, a large window looks out on the trees alongside the western pasture. Set into the north wall is a large cabinet, its glass doors closed on shelves containing a full compliment of fine china and glassware as well as a few decorative nicknacks. On the east, a wide bar separates the dining room from the kitchen.
An opening in the southern wall allows passage to the front entryway of the house, while a sliding glass door in the kitchen opens to a clearing behind the house.

Ethan nods towards Jacinta. "I'll be here," he tells her, gesturing goodbye with his beer hand.

Stacey smiles faintly and offers a polite nod to the Get. "It is an honor to meet you. Will you be lending your strength to our own, then?" she asks, then nods to Jacinta-rhya. "That is good. I have not been able to find her yet. I will seek you out later regarding what the Warder said."

Jacinta nods once to Ethan and offers a tense smile to her packmate before turning toward the door.

Ethan answers Stacey with, "That's the plan." He flashes another grin before finishing off the beer. The bottle is tossed into the garbage, and the ragabash leans against the kitchen counter to get comfortable.

With a crash the back door bursts open and Clemency comes tumbling in, in a dreadful rush. "Stacey," she pants, barely sparing a glance for the other two. "News. Val flew over the Spirals again, and... the girl... she's still there. Still alive. Tied to the tree-bucket, the fuckers." Her fists are clenched tightly. "Please tell me we can move in on these bastards right away."

A lean man of average height and average looks, Ethan somehow still has a certain commanding presence. There's a keen, intelligent gleam in his blue-grey eyes, and an edginess to his voice. Dirty blonde hair is raked back casually in a fashionably unkempt way, and he wears a stubbly, perpetual three-day beard. At roughly thirty years of age and not overly muscular, he nonetheless seems to have a solid frame, and it's clear from his body type that he gets plenty of exercise. Like most Get of Fenris, he has that battered and toughened aspect that suggests he believes he can eat fire and break steel with his bare hands. He bears the scars of his attempts and failures, as well.
His garb is simple and straightforward--jeans, t-shirt, rugged boots and a jacket to keep out the northern spring chill.

Stacey spins around as Clemency bursts in, staring at her for a moment, then she frowns and looks in Jacinta-rhya's direction.

Jacinta steps back from the door as Clemency burst through, teeth bared as the Silver Fang nearly barrels into her.

From afar, to the room, Jacinta notes for reference that the back door is sliding glass.
From afar, to the room, Stacey thinks Clem bursts right through that.
You paged the room with 'Clemency could make a sliding door crash!'.
Jacinta pages to the room: That was how I read it, actually. (;
From afar, to the room, Stacey will make her cubs clean it up.

Ethan's safely out of the way, being the one furthest from the sliding door. He remains comfortably leaning against the counter, though his brow creases at all the excitement.

For a second Clemency and Jacinta find themselves only inches apart. Their eyes meet, and Clemency's veer away from the fostern's. "Your pardon, Jacinta-rhya," the Silver Fang mutters, moving out of her way.

Jacinta stands with her back to the cupboards and regains some of her composure. Were she in lupus, her hackles would still be raised, however, and her homid form shows all the same tension that would read as a wolf. "No fewer than twelve," she says through gritted teeth. "No fewer than twelve human scents. Not just one. We will go as soon as we are prepared, as soon as we have strength to do battle, and enough to leave the bawn protected."

Stacey nods in agreement with Jacinta, although she frowns. "I'm sorry, Clemency, but if we rush into the battle without any preparation, we will fail, and that will help no one."

Ethan remains where he is, just listening for now--although Clemency gets a casual examination from the Get.

Clemency's fists clench and unclench, and a savage look comes onto her face. "Then let us at least prepare quickly?" she suggests, her glance going from Stacey to Jacinta, and thence to the damaged door behind her.

Jacinta's lips pull away from her teeth, eyes flashing with anger. "Qassaq! Was it you who found the Trebuchet? Found the den of The Horned Serpent's Children? No. Manitou's Ridgline did what none other had sense to do." She takes a step away from the cupboards and toward Clemency. "Manitou's Ridgeline has begun organizing for this battle, and will see it through. Where others do nothing, we act."

Stacey lets out a small sigh, lowering her eyes to the ground, then nods. "We have been working day and night since this was discovered, Clemency. We only have a few more people left to contact. As soon as we can move, we will."

Ethan remains still, smart enough not to move or comment at moment like this. He does allow himself a little smile, though. Apparently he's very used to being in close quarters with several growling ahrouns.

Silence falls for a few seconds. A shard of glass tinkles to the floor from the broken door, breaking the hush, and as if released from a trance by the sound, Clemency blurts "It was not I who found it. It was not you either. It was the Corax. If you found the tree-bucket, why did you not aid the poor girl tied to it?"

Jacinta's fist slams into the cupboards as she whirls around to attack the oak veneer, rather than the Silver Fang. A snarl of pure rage escapes her throat and for the moment she does not turn again. Slowly, with exaggerated movements, she withdraws her fist from the shards of wood and concentrates on her breathing.

Stacey steps forward, looking up at Clemency. "It is possible," she says quietly, "for two scouts to find the same thing. We did not here from the Corax; they found it. Last night. And perhaps the girl was not tied there then. Please, we are doing all we can. Save your anger for the battle. It will be soon; you have our word."

Ethan pushes himself off the counter now. "Anyone want some ice cream?" he asks, purposefully making a joke to hopefully ease a little of the tension. It's the raggie's job, after all. He does not actually move toward the fridge, though. Instead, he looks to Jacinta, his expression suggesting 'didn't you have something more important to do?' Then, to distract Clemency, he turns directly to her. "I'm Ethan Schiller. Fostern ragabash of Fenrir's Get. Alpha of Sunder's Eve out of Steel Angel. Who are you?"

Clemency doesn't say anything in response to Stacey. Her eyes are looking anywhere but at Jacinta. Only the deep panting breaths coming from her, and the general increasing air of pinkness about her face, betray that she's heard the Child of Gaia's words. Finally she says "I shall go and find Andy, and tell him. We are ready when you are, and we shall fight as fiercely as any." With that last promise her eyes veer dangerously close towards Jacinta, but she forces them away again, and then begins to stomp through the kitchen towards the lounge area. As she passes Ethan, she comes to a halt, and stands in front of him like a soldier on parade. "Clemency Haynes, the-Fire-that-Burns-Forever, Cliath and Ahroun of the First Tribe, Beta of pack Havoc. I know of you, Ethan-rhya. It was you who brought Emma my alpha unwelcome news. I am sorry."

Jacinta doesn't seem to register Ethan's expression, or even his presence. She holds herself steady, still facing away from the others, for several long moments. Breathing slow and controlled, she does eventually turn around. She gives a nod to her packmate and a glance toward Ethan and then heads out, ducking to the side to evade a precarious shard of glass.

Stacey returns Jacinta's nod, then smiles at Clemency before her attention turns to the glass on the floor. "Well... That should keep my cubs busy for a day or two," she says softly.

Ethan's eyes narrow slightly, and he acknowledges Clemency's word with a simple nod. "Me too," he whispers, stepping aside to allow the Silver Fang ahroun to continue out if she wants to. He also nods to Jacinta as she goes. That leaves Stacey. Turning to the Child of Gaia, he asks, "You got a moment?"

Clemency lifts her fists up and looks at them as though surprised to see they're clenched so hard her knuckles are white. She slowly and deliberately straightens her fingers and walks to the door, where a thought seems to strike her and she turns back to Ethan. "I understand that Emma is challenging you, Ethan-rhya," she adds. "Of course you will judge her as you think fit, but my opinion is that she is ready for fostern rank, and more than ready." With which words, and with the briefest of fingerwaves to Stacey, she departs through the lounge door, and a few seconds later the front door may be heard to slam fairly hard.

Stacey lifts a hand in farewell as Clemency leaves, then sighs again, shaking her head before she looks back up at the Get. "Sure, I have a moment. What do you need?"

Bawn: Western Forest(#3018RA)
Tall Sitka spruce and sequoia crowd around and above you. Many of the trees are old, their branches twisted into impossible shapes, trunks broad and draped with lichen, mosses and creepers. Tendrils of moss hand down from them like green spiderwebs, snaring the unwary with cold, ghostly fingers. The patches of younger growth are dense and pale, needles tinged with silver. Matted undergrowth huddles sullenly in the occasional small clearings, clutching with thorns and burrs at the legs of those who would pass. Deer seldom venture here, but the forest is full of rustlings, and tiny glints from wary, watchful eyes.
The forest spreads out to the east, bounded on the west by Sunrise Road. From farther to the west, one can occasionally hear the distant sounds of the town of Kent's Crossing.

It's late in the morning, and Walks-Middle is once more tracking through the bawn, seeking out whoever might be around. The Guardian is making no effort to be quiet about her passage, almost as though she were trying to attract attention.

If she is truly trying to attract attention she's succeeded. Clemency, hearing the noise of her passage, goes sprinting between trees with sufficient eagerness to catch a springy branch across one arm which draws blood. She doesn't heed the scratch, though. "Hey!" she shouts... not at the top of her voice, but in an almost restrained way, as though she'd like to shout louder but dares not. "Hey!"

Walks-Middle perks her ears toward the sound, a familiar voice... and then shifts up to homid before she too begins running in the Silver Fang's direction. "Clemency?"

"Stacey! Been looking for you guys," Clemency hisses in a kind of stage-whisper. She bends down to bring her head close to the smaller ahroun's. "Heads," she intones in a doom-laden sotto-voce.

Stacey nods, her tension and worry conflicting with excitement at seeing the Fang. "They told me you were back..." she says with a short-lived grin, then clears her throat. "Yes. I'd found one. And Circle Keeper and Jacinta discovered Dancers. At least six, maybe more. Humans, too, which may or may not be sided with them."

Clemency seems a little crestfallen at that. "Oh, you know already," she says chewing on her lower lip. Then she rallies. "Did you see their tree-bucket?"

Stacey gives a slight smile and reaches out to put a hand on Clemency's arm. "Us Guardians wouldn't let a threat remain a mystery for too long. No, I didn't see it myself. What is a tree-bucket?"

"It's some kind of catapult," Clemency explains. "It's what they've been using to throw those heads onto the bawn. Val saw it. She flew over there and spied it all out. She's somewhere around with Andy, looking for you and your packmates."

Stacey blinks at that. "Andy is around, too? Is... Is Far..." She breaks off and shakes her head. "The reason I was seeking you, Clemency, is to ask you to fight with our pack when the time comes. The Guardians consider this a threat to the bawn and Heart, and we will not wait long for the Sept to gather. We are seeking out those we know are able and willing to fight when called. We are making our battle plans now and will seek to confront these foes hopefully before the week is out. Will you fight with us?"

"Of course they're a f... a goddamn threat," Clemency snaps. "Yes. I'll fight them any damn where, on the bawn or off. Andy just came back, his car's at the farm. He had a bit of an up and down time back east, but he's the galliard so I'll leave him to tell you when he runs into you. Who else is in the fight? All the Guardians? Or not?"

Stacey shakes her head. "Horace will not be fighting. I may be, depending on whether Yi-rhya can be found to take my place as Guardian. Morgan and Helen have agreed to fight, Circle Keeper and Jacinta will of course be fighting. We are also seeking out several others for the fight. Blackriver was mentioned, Grey, Kaz-rhya... And there are others who we will be asking to remain in the bawn and Caern during the conflict to guard. And probably a couple at the Farmhouse with the cubs. Jamethon-rhya was talking about asking the spirits to watch our borders and warn us if anyone gets past our defenses during the attack. We're also looking in to who might have silver that can be used. And if those explosives could be used as a distraction."

"If you want me to get the good word to the rest of Havoc," Clemency offers, "that should be easy enough. That's KL, Grey, Emma and Laura. Laura's an especially good idea, I think, case anyone gets a ding off the Fallen Ones."

Stacey nods, eyes widening. "Oh, of course, Laura, too. I believe Circle Keeper-rhya went to see her out, as well as the Alpha. And if you want to let your pack know, please do. We'll find a place for anyone who might show up to help our pack, whether in guarding or fighting."

"The trouble with Spirals is... Have you ever encountered them?" Clemency asks, cutting herself off short and raising one thin eyebrow to Stacey.

Stacey shakes her head. "No, Clemency. Which might be why it's still up in the air as to whether I guard or fight. Either way, I will do as ordered.

"Well," Clemency resumes. "The thing about fighting Spirals, which most everyone seems to get the first time... I know I did... is that it's like fighting /yourself/. In a warped vicious kind of way, they are you. They think like we do, they know how to fight like we do, you can very rarely outmaneuver them because you can never get that one jump ahead of them." She gives a grim smile. "Just thought I'd give you the warning. But this is why we need to get rid of them just as soon as we can gather forces. They've got their eyes on our caern, you can lay odds, and we need to show them we're strong enough to defend it if they attack full-on, and alert enough to drive them off if they try to sneak in. Otherwise, if they think we're an easy target, they'll keep coming. More and more and more of them."

Stacey listens with a serious expression, then nods. "That's sort of what Jamethon-rhya said. He believes it's probably a trap, thus why we're doing all we can to throw off their scheme. And why many of our warriors will be left behind to guard. We cannot all run off to the fight and leave the Caern open for invasion. But we will show them that we are strong and alert. We have to." The girl grows even more solemn, glancing toward the Farmhouse. "I have two cubs," she says softly. "Both very new. Don't know a thing about fighting."

"I met 'em," Clemency says, "if they're who I think they are. One little bookworm with glasses, one emo kind of girl. Ruth and Kristi? Ruth got spooked when she met me and tried to run off. I had to tackle her down."

Stacey gives a small smile and nods. "That would be them. Sorry if she gave you trouble. They're good girls, just new..." she says, with a mixture of pride and concern. "I just named them. Ruth is Trips-Over-Paws and Kristin is Fears-Pain."

"No trouble at all," Clemency confirms. "Cubs will be cubs, they need to learn. Speaking of which, I showed them a few things about lupus. Nothing controversial, just very basic. I hope you don't see that as failure to respect your territory?"

Stacey shakes her head, waving a hand. "I like and trust you, Clemency. If you saw fit to teach them anything, I wouldn't object to it. It helps, honestly, since my duties often keep me away. Thank you."

"Then I'll fit them in when I can," Clemency promises. "I have a little more time now than I did, since I am no longer Elder of the First Tribe."

Stacey reaches up to rub the back of her neck and frowns. "Things kinda went crazy after you guys disappeared. Just who is the Elder now?"

"Blackriver, the lupus philodox," Clemency says. "She is easily my equal in leadership, and she isn't such a complete psychobitch as me, so she'll hopefully avoid pissing other people off the way I did with... well, with your packmates, for instance."

Stacey wrinkles her nose, then nods. "My packmates... are rather strict in how they view others sometimes." She shrugs a shoulder, then looks up at the Fang with a hopeful look. "Clemency... Far-Cry made it back, too, right? ...Right?"

Clemency looks baffled. "Far-Cry? Who? Back from where?"

Stacey shakes her head. "Kenneth! I mean Kenneth. Sorry. He disappeared with you guys. Is he back, too?"

A look of concern spreads over Clemency's face. "Hasn't he been seen? I know Grey and Reggie are back, and I know Abraxas has been seen... but Kenneth...?"

Stacey slumps, then shakes her head. "I don't know," she says softly. "I just heard last night that you and Grey had returned. You don't always hear news out here. I was hoping you knew."

"Ask Kevin or Dillen? His packmates?" Clemency suggests in a tone which hints that she knows the suggestion is an inadequate one.

Stacey bites her lip, then shrugs. "They... aren't a pack anymore. Kevin confessed rather publicly to being a charach, which we also later discovered had happened with Basil... And they've been punished and all, mostly. Dillen disbanded the pack after that. Kevin and Basil pack with Kaz-rhya now, under Raccoon."

Clemency hears this news with a sort of angry resignation. "Kevin and Basil, huh," she says. "I heard about those two. Didn't realise the pack had gone under as a result, though I guess I ought to've. Surprised Kaz would take those two under her wing. But Bone Gnawers have funny ideas about being able to mend things other people've given up on."

Stacey gives a small smile. "So do Children of Gaia. Generally." She looks pained for a second, then sighs. "I need to get going. I'll let you know more when I can."

"I won't go further than the farmhouse until I know when the balloon goes up," Clemency promises. "In fact, I'll stay right here on the bawn till then. Just in case anything else unpleasant goes down."

Stacey nods. "That would be wise. Thank you. I'll relay what you've said to my pack, and let them know you're willing to help." Then, in a rare moment where she actually acts her age, the little girl reaches out to hug the Fang. "I'm glad you're back."

Clemency gives Stacey a rib-creakingly fierce hug in return. "I'm glad I am back," she confirms. "It's where I belong." And with a slightly lopsided smile, she releases Stacey and turns her path towards the northern reaches of the bawn.

Porch
A lathe-turned wooden railing runs the length of the porch save where the steps are, well-worn with use. To the right of the stairs, a wide swing is suspended from the overhang which shelters this area; to the left, a small table is the centerpiece for several chairs pulled around it, all of which face out to the front yard and the fields and trees beyond. The spring breezes which blow through hold the promise of new growth to come, filling the space with an openness that includes all of the farm. The low shrubs planted in the rich bed of earth beyond the railing hold new leaves and tiny buds which threaten to burst into color at any moment.
An aging screen door newly refurbished stands between the heavy inner door of the house and the outside air. Four steps lead down to the lane, a number of pots with small flower seedling carefully arranged alongside them.


Ah yes, another balmy day in St. Claire, fluffy clouds scudding over the cloud of white smoke pouring from the hood of the car that makes it about halfway up the driveway leading to the scenic country home. The ragged-out, still mostly red 1988 Honda Civic gives a final heave and backfires thunderously as it chugs to a stop some twenty yards short of the building. Out from the sad little car steps a familiar individual, a little taller now, smoking a cigarette and cursing, but with the same sandy blond hair and purple eyes. He kicks the door shut rather vindictively and opens the hood of the car, burning himself on steam in the processing and again cursing the failed automobile. Welcome home, Andrew Davidson.

The noise of the engine expiring has evidently drawn some attention. The front door of the farm opens and a head peeks out, then Clemency emerges, holding a bottle of beer in one hand. When she sees Andy's figure cracking open the hood and peering under, she lets out a yelp of happy surprise and canters down the steps towards him.

With a disgusted look, Andy turns after propping the car's hood open and crushes the cigarette under one foot. It's all quite scenic really, the trees in the horizon, the birds, the gently wafting steam and sound of engine coolant pouring out on the ground, the weary traveler. Ah, yes. He spots an incoming Fang and un-leans from the car, giving it another satisfactory whack with a boot before sauntering up the drive to meet Clemency halfway with chuckle and helpless grin. "Hey lady, my car blew up. Know where I can find any decent Walkers or tech sprites around these parts?" He never was that good at comedy.

Clemency claps Andy on the back. "You came back to us!" she trills. "You know, I never thought you would." Seems tact is still a stranger to the ahroun. "We've got a couple of theurge these days, maybe one of those could have a talk to your engine-spirit. There's Jonathan, he's an older guy, and Mathias, he's just a kid, barely cliath. But they can wait," she suggests. "Come inside and let's swap news. Do your Galliard thing. Wanna beer?"

Andy shakes his head a little. "Don't worry about it, I thought I'd never make it out of that old town alive anyway. We might want to push this thing up next to the house and put a garbage pail cover under it or something so none of the Coggies have a fit about it pissing all over the place. I don't think its going anywhere for a while without a little help. It's a light car, so no changing required to make the heave I think." He strolls back to the car, there's a pack of smokes on the dash and a duffle bag in the back seat. Not much of anything else in plain view at least. "Beer, would be welcome. I've about had it with traveling anyway."

"I think there's a tarp somewhere in the attic," Clemency hazards. She moves round to the back and leans on the trunk ready to push if required, though not shifting, at least not yet. "The Fianna did a supply run so we're not short of the good stuff today. You picked a good day to return."

Andy leans into the car and bops the shifter to get it out of gear. Seating his shoulder against the window pillar, he pushes while using his free arm to keep the car pointed the right way. "Ah whatever, I think thats the eco friendly kind anyway. Just tell the Gnawers not to drink it and we'll be fine." With that he leans into the car, setting the thing into a slow roll with a little help from his fellow Fang. "Sweet. I always have good timing unless I'm fighting something, but we'll not go there."

The two Fangs roll the disabled car along the side of the house where it's as far out of the way as possible. Clemency puffs a little. "OK, beer time," she says, and makes for the back door of the house.

Andy reaches into the car and jerks up on the parking brake handle, locking the car in place. He leaves the hood open for now and pockets his cigarettes on the way by. With a quiet sigh of relief he follows Clemency into the building, once looking over his shoulder at the car and down the drive before stepping out of sight from the road. "I am SO glad to see this place again. So what kind of beer do we have, and what did I miss?"

Farmhouse: Kitchen and Dining Room
Homey is the first word to come to mind when looking at the farmhouse's kitchen. Dark, wood-paneled wainscoting covers the walls to about waist height, dark beige wallpaper continuing to the ceiling. Twin refrigerators occupy the north wall, facing the large six-burner stove on the south. The kitchen counter runs the length of the eastern wall, broken only by the double-basin sink. Cabinets run above and below the counter and a twin-pane window is set in the wall above the sink. A small pantry is set into an alcove alongside the refrigerators, presumably holding the deep freezer as well as shelves of dry goods.
Some twelve feet above the floor, a large chandelier hangs from the ceiling, lighting the dining room and casting long shadows over the bar to the kitchen. A long table occupies the center of the dining room, three chairs setting along each side, and one on each end. On the west wall, a large window looks out on the trees alongside the western pasture. Set into the north wall is a large cabinet, its glass doors closed on shelves containing a full compliment of fine china and glassware as well as a few decorative nicknacks. On the east, a wide bar separates the dining room from the kitchen.
An opening in the southern wall allows passage to the front entryway of the house, while a sliding glass door in the kitchen opens to a clearing behind the house.

Clemency opens the fridge in the kitchen. "Sol," she offers. "Guinness. Bud, if you must... I think there's a couple of Anchors someplace, though I'm not sure if they're some Fianna's private stash. What's your poison, Andy-yuf?"

Andy collapses into a kitchen chair and leans into the back of it. "Guinness it is then, always a win with that stuff." He sheds his jacket across the backrest of the chair and stretches a little before leaning slightly against the table and waiting for Clemency to sit. "Man, I've missed this old place."

Clemency realises she's left her half-bottle of Sol outside, but rather than go get it she opens up a fresh one and also cracks a Guinness for Andy. "We muddle along," she says, passing him the bottle and a glass. "Though I'm no longer leader of the tribe... nor is Touch Deer sept alpha."

Andy sips it straight out of the bottle, no need for wasting warmth on glasses. "Well sum-bitch. Amazing how times change isn't it. So is the new alpha any good? This new tribal Elder must be good if they managed to get you out of the position so I'm not worried about that. You don't back down for anyone." He swirls his beer a moment and has another sip off the tip, taking it slow. "Touch Deer is still with the Sept though right? It'd be a great loss to see him go."

Clemency seems to be avoiding Andy's gaze. "Touch Deer has left for an indeterminate time," she clarifies. "On some quest, I believe. The new alpha outranks him in any case; Vera-rhya of the Shadow Lords. As for our new elder, Swims-the-Black-River will lead as well as I could, and without falling into the pitfalls I tumbled into."

Andy doesn't seem to be seeking Clemency's gaze either, perhaps they've both had a rough time. "Shadow Lord. In... the woods. Right then, this should be interesting. Though I think I met her once before she was even granted admission to the Sept." There is a deliberate pause for a moment. "Swims-the-Black-River. Sounds.. noble I guess. I'll have to meet this person too. Oh, I have a deal for you. I won't ask about your pitfalls, and you don't ask why my uncle is in a jar in the trunk the Honda." A slight smile is given, tough to tell if he's being serious.

"You should," Clemency agrees. "We still have no other singer-moons but you, so if as I hope Blackriver continues the campaign of returning us to our rightful position in the eyes of other garou, you will have to liaise with her when it comes to making known the great deeds of our tribe. Vera-rhya... she is a Shadow Lord," Clemency goes on, evidently picking her words carefully, "but a noble garou of adren rank, and her devotion to the sept is not in question." There's perhaps the slightest hint that other things about Vera may be. "So if your uncle is in your trunk... best not to mention it in public. Vera's ears are keen."

"Don't worry about it, it's a tight seal anyway." Andy smirks. "Still on the charge to clean the local view of the First Tribe I see. I ended up doing a bit of that myself, in Iowa. Either way. I'll be sure to mind my tongue lest I... offend, this new Alpha of ours." He nods knowingly at the repeat mention of Vera's Shadow Lord-ness. "Is that all interesting that has come to pass in my absence?"

"Tip of the iceberg," Clemency says bitterly, "but I missed a great deal of it. I stepped sideways in March at the request of a coyote spirit, to attempt to save a fetish from corruption, or so I was told. Next thing I know, it's the end of May, and all kinds of things have gone down. New cubs, new packs, people convicted of charaching, you name it, it happened while my back was turned." She takes a long drink of beer.

Andy pauses at that. "Why can it never, ever be anything simple?" He shakes his head again, pondering his alcohol and having another long drink off the bottle. "Well if it makes you feel any better, I got a message via Owl and beat ass to DesMoines, took a wooden spear through the chest, got in a brawl with a dunken Fianna, watched my uncle get puree'd at the hands of a Silver Fang judgement council, interrupted the local chain of inheritance out there, and paid a Bone Gnawer to bribe a trash truck driver to park a dumpster on the local Shadow Lord elder's car for interfering with First Tribe internal affairs."

Clemency listens to this list, her eyes growing narrower and her face uglier as the string of events is unrolled. "Then you weren't jesting about your uncle," she comments. "Who shoved a spear through you? The local equivalent of Circle Keeper?" She fingers a spot on her torso which it doesn't take too much imagination to surmise is where the Uktena's spear pierced her when they fought.

Andy nods slightly, burned out on what went on down there anyway. "If by local Circle Keeper you mean random crunchy Uktena living on the edges of the bawn and surviving on squirrels and berries. Yes. He's not the guardian of the bawn, however he is apparently the self appointed welcoming commitee and checker of newcomers for wyrm taint. I think some of those berries went to his brain. I wasn't kidding about mad uncle Charles either, though when we get somewhere less likely to be full of listening ears I can tell you all about messing up their whole little game down there."

Clemency nods slowly. "It'd be interesting to learn," she says. "I am not myself without experience of what our tribe can do to those who those who transgress its laws, written or unwritten, or who get in the way. Indeed that's largely why I'm here."

Andy finishes probably half his beer in one solid hit from the bottle, leaning back and staring up at the ceiling for a moment. "Your secrets are yours to bear, I alone am no-one to ask my tribemate of her skeletons. I will say that right now if they knew what has been done, they would be angry with me, but when the anger passes I will be thanked. Or killed, but I did was was necessary to preserve my family's heritage. Though I must know, what ever posessed you to take a coyote spirit at its word?"

Clemency shrugs. "That's what a couple of other people have said. If it was a hoax, it was a convincing enough one to take in four other garou, two of them older and more experienced than me. I still want to go back to the place in the umbra that we were transported to, just to check that there is no fetish there."

Andy leans on the table, slightly towards Clemency. "So the place was actually there, and it had the ability to distort time. Perhaps the fetish isn't an object there, but the location itself within the umbra. Surely there can't be that many places of such power to bend time so easily. It didn't seem then, that you were there long at all?"

Clemency shakes her head. "We arrived around sunset. We went to sleep that night. I awoke soaking wet with dew in the depths of a forest which looked like nobody had been there since Gaia made it. I swear, I thought it was Siberia, but it turned out to be a few hours east of the caern."

Andy hmms and nods. "Transported, frozen, or the victim of some kind of illusion maybe. One way or the other it seems as though there has to be more to it than that. Unless it just truly was a playful, mischevious spirit. Still, very strange. Now you have me wishing I could see the place as well."

"I can't get back," Clemency sighs. "I've tried. I want to make sure it's not just me being clueless, but I have a nasty feeling it's been barred to me... to us." She rolls her beer between her palms. "So, Andy. Basically, you're back for the foreseeable future?"

A pause is let to stand for a few moments while Andy processes the information. "Interesting, perhaps it is just all luck of the draw. I'll make a point to venture out to that area though, and see. You've piqued my curiousity." He looks one-eyed down the neck of his bottle a moment. "As far as I know, yes. There may be unscheduled visits that draw me away briefly, but I have no intentions upon departng permanently or for any drastic amount of tme."

"Okay," Clemency says. "Where are you gonna be living? Because we're homeless. Again. I suppose it's no longer my job as elder to ask you this, but do you have any financial resources or backing that would enable the tribe to get a roof over its head?"

Andy gets that grin. You know, that.. Silver Fang evil world domination plan grin. The one that makes Shadow Lords hide behind the furniture. Yes, that grin. "Let's just say... I have a plan. Not so sure if it'll work per se, but I have a plan. We will have to take a walk to discuss it, and Jervis if the old bastard is around, can know nothing about it lest his prying fingers interfere."

Clemency shakes her head. "Jervis hasn't been seen for months. I... worry that he died of a broken heart or something." The ahroun looks quite lugubrious. "I hate myself for killing Kasia so much. I see her face in dreams, often."

Andy says "Jervis.. the cantankerous old fart. One man I never held any love for, to be truthful. I've suspected him quietly of misdeeds beyond measure. I do miss Kasia as well, she was a pleasant person and a sweetheart to everyone that ever met her. Though she was going steadily further off the deep end, and you were only doing what was necessary to protect the integrity of the Tribe. Maybe there can be a way to find a spirit-speaker and find her, make atonement for what had to be done. The fate of Jervis though, is something that I will leave to be known whenever the time comes for us to know it."

Clemency looks at Andy over her beer, as though uncertain how to respond. "And when will that time be?" she asks. "This year, next year, sometime, never... One thing that recent events has taught me, is that time is not as inflexible as it seems."

Andy almost misses the look over swigging his drink, quite the thirsty one today. "Like it or not he is still of the First Tribe, and as you know like any of us we are harder to get rid of than fruitcakes in southern California. We haven't seen the last of him, and I suspect we can be certain of that. I wouldn't worry myself over his fate, he can take care of himself." He pauses, setting his bottle down on the the table with a hollow clunk. "Time is a river complete with eddies and backflow, that much I can agree with. We should agree at some point, on a time and place that is not here and now to review in depth Tribal business we need to catch up on."

Clemency nods in agreement. "And Blackriver should be there," she adds. "Which means a non-homid meeting, since she speaks no English worth mentioning. For now," she says, "I'm tempted to just keep cracking beers till we're both mellow."

A rather small and slim woman makes her way toward the patio door and squints as she peers inside, hand lifting to rap on the glass.

Andy seems a bit caught off guard at that, stumbling over a response when the sliding door is knocked upon. "Even the forest has more ears than you can count," he remarks "but remind me about finding new dwelling for our Tribe when we next meet. Who is this at the door? Do you know her?"

Clemency looks up with a frown. "I know her... who is she... hell, it's that bird," she remembers with a little effort. Rising, she opens the door. "Can we help you, Val?" she asks cautiously.

Val wriggles her fingers at Clemency and smiles just a touch nervously. "Well, yes, sort off. Been passing around some information, but I've noticed you lot are fairly poor at telling others what I tell you. You know about the heads, right? Shaved bald, showing up on the northern bawn?"

Andy raises an eyebrow, holding comment on the nature of bringers of news. "I roll into town, and there are heads on pikes on the bawn. They are on pikes right? That's the way the nasties usually do it, oh so creative. And you would be?"

"Nobody mentioned they were shaved," Clemency frowns. "I heard their eyes were stapled shut, which sounds a little gross. They've been dropping out of the clear blue sky, yes? Or so I heard. Not on pikes, Andy, unless I misheard. Andy's only just gotten back from a long trip," she explains in an aside to Val.

Andy sighs a little and shakes his head. "I suppose I'll end up investigating this after I alert the Alpha that I'm back in town. What're Galliards for, right? So who do these heads belong to? Locals?"

"Nobody seemed to have recognised any, last I heard," Clemency recalls. "I haven't seen any myself. One landed right on the Black Fury cub Alesia, though, scared the poor girl half to death."

Val clears her throat. "Well, Jamethon asked for my help with the issue. So, I asked one of the dead fellows. Well, his head, anyway. About all he really remembered was big bat-like ears and knives. There was also this large thing made out of logs and rope. Abraxas got rather upset at the mention of ears, saying that it sounded like Black Spiral Dancers. Which I've heard off, if only that they're really nuts. Abaraxas also figured that they were coming from over the highway, so I went and had a look. Found a big ol'trebeuchet. Oh, I'm Val. Most here just call me the bird-lady."

Andy sighs quietly and nods. "A child of Corvus then? Just call me Andy, and thank you for the information. I'll see that it is put to good use. Though do yourself a favor, if you do find what that.. head described to you. Do yourself a favor and flee it, let someone here know of its location so that something may be done about it."

"A tree-bucket?" Clemency is plainly unfamiliar with the word. "What the hell is a tree-bucket and why do the Fallen Ones want one?" She glares at Val ungratefully. "If this is another of your silly bird jokes I'll push your beak in so hard it comes out your ass."

Andy about bites his tongue, and enunciates the word. "Tre-bu-chay, a French term I believe. Its a type of catapault, and quiet compared to most catapaults. You have disembodied heads falling out of the sky, the undead telling Corvids about bat ears and knives, and a catapault in the woods on the other side of the highway. If we can find the operators of this thing, we have out culprits." He finishes his beer in one final gulp. "Mystery solved, Scooby-Doo."

Val blinks a few times at Clemency, eyes going wide and backing up several steps. "Now-now, I've only every played one joke on you and its not as if it did you any harm."

Clemency glares at Val. "You made me believe a woman was being murdered. That's not my idea of a harmless prank." She snorts, but relents. "Andy, if you're on the right track, this needs urgent action. Like, yesterday. If the Fallen Ones are throwing heads onto the bawn with a catapult, they could just as easily lob bombs at us, or balefire, or worse... Gaia only knows what else they could put in as a payload." Her fist tightens round her bottle of Sol.

Andy holds a breath for half a moment. "I'm.. not asking about pretend dead people. So we do actually have heads falling from the sky, right? This isn't some prank the guy coming back from amazing adventures across the countryside." Comedy aside he reads Clemency's expression like a book. "Right.. shit. I have awesome timing. I love it. I suppose we're going to have to formulate some kind of plan of attack then."

Val awws. "It was just a few sound effects from a bad movie," the bird-woman responds, sulking a little. "And yes, the head I was shown was quite real. Can't really Drink the Eyes of a fake head. Not like they would respond when you asked for permission, either. Well, there was also a family of campers that disappeared a little-while back. Four of them, according to the paper. Camp was mostly undisturbed, aside from blood in the middle. Cops were all wandering around the place, no real clue about what to do with themselves."

Clemency's own eyes wander to Val at the mention of drinking those organs, and she looks faintly nauseated. "Family of four," she muses. "I heard three heads landed on the bawn so far. Leaves one, unless they've killed any more innocents since. We should tell the guardians first," she decides, taking a long pull at her beer and setting the bottle down with a clink on the table. "The bawn is their turf and these evil bastards are threatening it."

Andy agrees wholeheartedly. "You're not kidding. This is going to need to be spread around. We'll have to start finding people, but I don't want to just step outside and howl, because whoever is doing this will hear it too. We need to grapevine it, coordinate and so forth. Though if it was a family of four and we've only had three touchdowns, I'm willing to bet that the last one alive is probably one of the children. Either being held hostage, or made to dance the spiral. Speculation mind you, but look at who we're probably dealing with here. Stoned teenagers don't behead people and fire their skulls into the woods."

Val shrugs. "Well, I might be able to help you with that. A bit. They're not likely to pay much attention to a raven, if I go in to have a closer look. S'not as if they're not plenty of ravens in the area all ready and they're probably making use of the bodies, if they haven't been buried."

As the conversation progresses Clemency's nauseated expression becomes more pronounced. "The filthy bastards," she grunts in heartfelt tones. "Point taken about no howling, Andy, but we still need to get onto this now. Shall we go and play hunt the guardian? And hope," she adds in a jaundiced way, "that if it's Jacinta or Circle Keeper we find first, they let us speak before poking spears at us or hurling abuse."

Andy can't help but raise one point in the direction of Val. "Actually, you might not want to be eating anything they've killed. Its likely tainted by the wyrm, and thus anything that has been eating it will end up tainted too." A brief turn to Clemency, "At least this time they'll have something legit to hurl their spears at this time." Terrible, terrible inside joke. "I'm guessing we'll have to split up and look for guardians and elders, see who we can find and set up some kind of rendezvous, I would guess at the caern."
Val umms. "Wasn't saying that I'd be eating anything they'd killed, just that others probably are and one more raven in the area isn't likely to be noticed. Umm. Is there anything in particular you'd like me to do. Could head out that way and take another look for you? And I'm allowed on the Bawn these days, so flashing a mirror or the like will probably get my attention."

Clemency stands up with the air of one who is about to commence some great enterprise, and drains the dregs of her beer. Then, less heroically, she grabs another from the fridge and opens it up quickly, and holding the full bottle says "Okay. Let's get out there right now and start looking. I suggest we split up, the more different places we look, the better chance we have of finding a guardian. If we find other garou who aren't in the guardian pack, we tell them too. Get that news out, galliard boy," she says to Andy with a crooked grin.

Andy nods to Val and stands, already out of beer himself. "Just checking. If I were you, I'd keep an eye on them from a distance. Watch if you can, but don't get their attention. No need for more senseless deaths." He hook-shots his beer bottle into a disposal bin and stretches, picking up his jacket off the chair. "Right, just try not to piss anyone off, ahroun girl" is shot back at Clemency with a chuckle. "Would help if we backtrace their routine patrols as well. Either way, we're not getting anywhere standing here."

"Alright. I'll go and take another look around." That said, Val makes her way into the field and disappears into the long grass. A few moments later, a raven bursts into view.

Bawn: Central Forest(#2876RA)
The forest is dark and quiet. No, not quiet. Listening. The ancient firs rear up all around, branches interwoven in a dense roof of dark green. Fallen needles lie in a thick carpet on the ground, heaped up around the drifts of undergrowth clinging to the scarce patches of light reaching the forest floor. Every sound seems muffled, and the sharp scent of pine hangs in the air like the clouds of midges that swarm ceaselessly beneath the branches. Even the many deer who roam here seem to step more quietly than usual, and the songbirds seldom sing.
The forest spreads out around you in all directions.

It's around noon, the sun blazing down from overhead, and Blackriver is out in the forest, sniffing around the undergrowth, her ears turning around and listening to the sounds of the woods. Her wandering seems a bit more focused than usual today, and it wouldn't be far off to say that it looks like she's looking for something, or someone.

Promises-Kept could be found in the forest around here. The white wolf off in his own little world as he happily scents the air, listens to the forest, and in general does his fangly duty. His white fur is almost perfectly clean, as if he takes time to groom himself, or at least get groomed.

The sound of branches being moved aside heralds the arrival of Lune-Calmer. The Metis is in his breed form, but moves along on all fours to avoid the worstof the underbrush. He doesn't look overly surprised when he comes upon other Silver Fangs, and simply drops his gaze to the ground. ~Greetings.~

By chance or by design, this seems to be Silver Fang day in the woods of the bawn. Fire-Burns comes sniffing along not far behind Lune-Calmer, nose to the ground as though on his scent-trail, and moving quickly enough to be catching him up, which she does just as he himself reaches the other two tribe members. She emits ne sharp bark of greeting, and then stands there, upright, tail waving gently in the breeze like a banner, her attention moving back and forth between the other three. She doesn't say anything, not yet. Or not verbally.

Blackriver's posture instinctually shifts around to display her dominance as the other arrive. Her head turns as she calmly surveys the other three, ears flicking back and forth with barely hidden agitation, the half-moon weighing visibly on the Philodox. When her gaze finds Fire-Burns she pauses for a moment, tail wagging gently, and pads over to sniff at the Ahroun. You are back. She tells her. I was looking for you. And now you are here.

Promises-Kept hears Fire-Burns, and sees Blackriver, as he keeps himself quiet and tail low. He's submissive right now, as this isn't his fight. Instead, the white wolf with the blue ear just waits and listens.

Lune-Calmer does, however, look surprised when someone arrives shortly behind him. He spins enough to keep the two groups in sight and drops so his muzzle rests somewhere just above the loam. ~Welcome back, Fire-Burns-Forever-rhya.~

I am back, yes, back. I am glad to be back, Fire-Burns confirms, walking slowly towards Blackriver. Her statements are simple and straightforward, yet there's an obvious air of tension in her posture, and like Blackriver, her ears, tail and teeth all display dominance.

Blackriver seems more annoyed than anything by the Ahroun's display of dominance, and her right ears cocks to the side. There are two new Silver Fangs here. She tells Fire-Burns, motioning to Promises-Kept and Lune-Calmer. Knife-moons both, not yet sept members. Truth-Stalker has run off to the forest somewhere to whine. Do you want to be elder again?

Promises-Kept just watches Blackriver, though he dosn't comment and keeps his place, sitting down on his haunchs where he was. His tail curls tight to his side, as he just waits.

Lune-Calmer, like his fellow knife-moon, remains silent. He settles onto his haunches (an awkward sight in Crinos) and simply looks at the two dominant Fangs' shins.

I know them both, Fire-Burns states, glancing at the two theurges for a moment before focusing once more on Blackriver. As for what you ask. I am Elder. I was never challenged for the position. Therefore I hold it still. She presents this in a brusque matter-of-fact way and cocks her head at Blackriver as she awaits a response.

Blackriver snorts and tilts her head slightly to the side. You left. You left and when you did you left Elder. So you are not Elder still. She states back in the same matter-of-fact way the Ahroun did. Do you want to be Elder? She asks again.

Promises-Kept looks over at Lune-Calmer for a moment, checking to see if he is in good health before looks at the other two females. His tail swishes behind him, but he offers no comment.

Lune-Calmer acknowledges Promises' glances and indicates that he is alright with a look. He goes back to watching the tableau before them, his expression twisted with tension.

I did not leave, insists Fire-Burns. Do you accuse me of abandoning this place? She's plainly becoming angrier, though she's also not answering the query Blackriver has posed.

Blackriver lets out a little lupus sigh of frustration. You left. You followed a coyote spirit. We did not know where you were. We did not know if you would return. We did not know if you would die. I do not accuse you of abandoning this place, I say that you left. And you left. I held elder while you were gone. Now you are back. Do you want to be elder again? Promises-Kept said you do not.

Promises-Kept dosn't respond to this part, instead he just sits there and waits. No need for his voice to join in, it might only serve to induce frenzy in one of the pair.

Lune-Calmer drops into Lupus then, laying down on all fours. A soft whine escapes him.

Fire-Burns slowly turns her head on one side to look at Promises-Kept with unblinking golden eyes. The gaze lasts for several seconds before she turns back to Blackriver. Do you wish to be elder? she asks the lupus, again not answering the question asked of her.

Blackriver settles down onto her haunches and stares back at Fire-Burns. What I want is not important. I took elder because it was my duty to. I will continue to be elder if you do not want it, because it is my duty to. Because I am a Siver Fang, and because I am a Philodox, and because I do the things I must, even when I do not want to.

Promises-Kept lowers his head slightly when he is looked at by Fire-Burns, his own blue eyes keeping away from the stares. He does lay down now, his head on his front paws, and his tail tight against his body.

Those were the reasons why I took Eldership in the first place, recalls Fire-Burns. She ducks her head for a moment. You have found, as I did, that to lead our people is a heavy weight around the neck?

Of course it is. Blackriver replies, We are the alpha tribe, alphas do not like to be ruled. She continues to stare at Fire-Burns with her honey gold eyes, the two Theurge ignored, they might as well be in Siberia for all that she notices them.

Promises-Kept is doing the submissive watch and wait, go him!

Lune-Calmer snifs at the air, tail tucking downward. He looks increasingly uncomfortable at the discussion going on.

Do you think you have done well as alpha-of-alphas? Fire-Burns asks Blackriver. The question comes across as a ltitle curt, but not outright menacing or demanding, and while the Ahroun is looking at the Philodox, it isn't a staredown-type gaze as much as a general paying of attention.

Blackriver cants her head to the side and thinks for a moment. I am not sure. She replies, having obviously not thought about this before. I think I have done fairly well. Better than Truth-Stalker. The others submit to me, and I have heard no complaints from them or the other tribes.

Promises-Kept continues to be quiet. Doin' the submission tango! Cha cha cha.

Fire-Burns seems to be thinking out loud. If lupus communication can be described as 'out loud'. If I thought I could do better than you, then I should claim eldership, she muses.

Yes. Blackriver agrees, head tilting to the other side now. She looks back at Fire-Burns expectantly.

Slowly, but surely, Fire-Burns' tail descends from its high position to a lower one, and her ears also display submission. If others submit to you, and other tribes respect you, then I cannot do better, she notes. I will obey you as elder of the First Tribe. May Falcon's wisdom guide you.

Lune-Calmer looks up suddenly, surprise evident even on his lupine features. He remains silent, even as the tension starts to leak out of him.

Promises-Kept sees the tail drop and submission. He pauses a second before he gives a simple woof. So it is done. And with that, turns around and begins to leave the other 3.

Blackriver is completely still for a moment, looking like surprise had just been made into a drink and poured all over her. Gradually, she raises her tail up a bit higher and wags it tentatively. I will be a good elder. She assures the Ahroun. Welcome home Fire-Burns-Forever.

Fire-Burns turns away from the Elder in a matter-of-fact way and walks over to Lune-Calmer. Greetings, greetings, she tells the metis. I am sorry that I could not oversee you more when you arrived. I was in the Shadow for what was one day for me, yet for you was more than two turns of the moon. Will you soon be a member of the sept?

Promises-Kept dosn't seem to wait, and is soon gone from the group.

Lune-Calmer looks up, meeting the Ahroun's gaze for a moment in acknowledgement. Soon, he states. I was given Chiminage to clean garbage from the Bawn, and to create Talens for the upcoming battles. The second part I still need to do. Welcome home, Fire-Burns-Forever.

Blackriver cants her head to the side and listens to the answer of Fire-Burn's question, before turning around and heading off herself, silver grey form soon fading into the forest.

This creature is in most ways a perfect example of canis lupus, commonly known as the wolf. A bulky male, he stands at roughly three feet at the shoulder. He's covered in a thick pelt of grey fur, with a very nearly metallic gleam to it. His eyes are a dark blue, a very unusual shade for a wolf, and gleam with an even more unusual intelligence. Were it not for the presence of a third eye, centered above the first two, the wolf might pass for a normal member of his breed. Despite this deformity, however, there's a distinctive air of dignity and even pride about the creature. He carries himself well, moving with an easy stride.

Fire-Burns lets her tongue loll out for a moment once Blackriver has departed and tension has eased. It is good to be back, good, good, she agrees. What Talens will you be creating?

Lune-Calmer makes a sound that indicates he's not sure. Talens for fighting fire, I think. They are going against a tire fire Bane, they say. Water elementals? Earth, maybe. I will do as they tell me, and I will make this place my new home. What happened while you were gone? No one has told me.

Fire-Burns lies down and relaxes in a casual sprawl. Coyote took us to a place in the umbra where things were strange, she recounts. There was an evil being, a vampire, but not as we know vampires. And a powerful fetish that was at risk of corruption. But when we slept on our first night, we awoke back in the Realm, to find that more time had passed here. And I cannot get back to save the fetish, she goes on, ears lying flat with shame. I did badly. I failed.

Lune-Calmer's ears perk upright with interest. By the time the tale has conclused, he's nearly enthralled. He sits back on his haunches with its conclusion. It was nothing you could fight, it sounds. You slept. Coyote is wise, but unpredictable. He may simply have wanted a laugh.

I need to find the others who were with me, Fire-Burns goes on. Perhaps they will know how we can get back and save the fetish. If I can get back I will. She turns to look at the other wolf more directly. You see, if I can get back, and if I am gone for months again, it is best if Blackriver leads. She would not have slept, she would have slain the evil and saved the fetish that night.

Lune-Calmer huffs a breath. You would know better than I, the Theurge demures. He shuts his third eye as he rises into Homid form, clothes settling about him as if blown by an unfelt breeze. "I will follow whoever leads."

It is best that she does, Fire-Burns repeats, as though trying to persuade both Lune-Calmer and herself of that.

Lune-Calmer considers the former Elder for a moment. "She will lead us in peace as only a half-moon can. When war comes, though, you will lead us. It is what Luna and Gaia wanted for us."

Then let us hope war does not come, is all Fire-Burns has as response to that. She rests her head on her front paws dejectedly.

There's caution in the Theurge's tone as he responds. "We always hope that, I think. But it will. I only met you once, but I have heard your name spoken since. You did not shame Falcon."

If I fight and get myself killed, Fire-Burns explains, I die with honor. If I fight and get us all killed, the consequences are dire.

Jonathan frowns as he answers. "They are," he agrees, simply. "But we can't avoid the fight because we fear the consequences. You are of the full moon. It is what you do."

Fire-Burns returns to homid herself. "I have no fears for myself," she clarifies, evidently feeling the 'language' of lupus has not put her point across. "I am not afraid to die for Gaia."

Jonathan twitches minutely before he answers. "That is good. Do you think any of our tribe is any more afraid than you are?"

Clemency scarcely has to think for a moment before answering "No. Some are young and have yet to undergo a true test in battle, like Justin. But I don't think any of our people are cowards. You aren't scared, are you, Jonathan?"

"Dying in battle is the last and best thing I can offer Gaia, Luna and Falcon. There will be no children of my blood." There's a moment of quiet as Jonathan considers. "No, I am not scared. I just wish to leave behind any sort of legacy before I go to Gaia."

"A garou who dies with honor," Clemency points out in what's plainly meant to be a cheering tone, "leaves behind a good example for all those who are left behind him."

Jonathan doesn't smile, despite the tone. "That's what I've been told. I would rather teach what I know of the spirits than teach the value of sacrifice, though."

"Well," Clemency asks, "what do you know of the spirits? You implied that you knew something of Coyote. Said he might just have been hoaxing us all?"

Jonathan nods. He settles down, kneeling. "I know of the various spirit courts, who some spirits call father, mother or master. Coyote..we do not have Coyote in the courts of my home. We only hear of his exploits. He might just have done it for a laugh, or to teach a lesson he thought we needed."

"I don't know half as much about spirits as I should," Clemency confesses. "For someone who's half one herself, that's shameful. Spirit courts, yes. Julius Green-Leaves my former packmate talked of those sometimes... though he never talked of anything very often, being a Silent Strider."

Jonathan shakes his head. "He did you a disservice, then. A Theurge's duty is to teach. To pack, tribe and Sept." There's no real judgement in his voice, though. "If there is time, I will teach you what I may."

"That would be very kind of you," Clemency says graciously. "If there is any way you can figure that will get us, or even just me, back to that place in the Umbra... it would be highly appreciated."

Jonathan nods. "Certainly, Clemency. I may have less time than I would prefer, though. A few days past, I was approached about joining a pack." At this, then, there is a genuine smile, tinged with a little surprise.

Clemency doesn't express any visible surprise. "Do you plan to accept? Or will it need to wait till your chiminage is done? Who would your packmates be?"

Jonathan shakes his head. "I have already accepted. I was told never to expect to be part of a pack at my previous home. It wouldn't do to hesitate and perhaps lose the chance. I would be packmates with Wrong Way, a Lupus of the Bone Gnawers." If there's any distaste, he hides it well. "Speaking of which, there is something I did not mention when I arrived and talked to you. It is a shame to me, and I'm afraid to compound it by remaining silent."

Clemency seems about to congratulate the metis, but as he passes on to what seems to be on the verge of a confession, a frown replaces her smile. "Speak by all means," she invites politely, but the temperature of her voice must have dropped five degrees.

Jonathan clears his throat, looking down to the ground. "I told you that I left my home at the Riven Shell in England to look for my cousin, young miss Decik, yes? She was the reason I chose here. I left my Sept because I was forced. I was exiled."

Clemency's voice remains at the same temperature, though at least it doesn't drop any lower. "And why were you forced to leave, Jonathan?"

Jonathan's gaze rises, and he looks Clemency in the eyes. Not in a challenging sense, so much as a simple seeking of contact. "I killed another member of the Sept. The only other Cliath we had. Yuri." His lip curls up in remembrance. "It was in a Challenge. He wanted a family heirloom and challenged me for it. The Elders supported his challenge."

Clemency's hand rises to her chin and she looks pensive. "Including the Master of the Challenge? Who was told of the challenge and its terms beforehand?"

Jonathan nods. His eyes are distant as he recalls. "He knew of it. They all believed Yuri would take it easily. A Philodox, he was, and of achingly pure blood. It was assumed he would...what was the term? 'Kick my ass'?" He reaches into the neck of his shirt and pulls out what appears to be a small whistle carved from ivory on a thong around his neck. "The terms were to fight until one yielded or fell unconscious."

Clemency's eyes flicker to the whistle, but she doesn't mention it, only nodding and saying "But you proved yourself the better fighter?"

Jonathan's mouth opens, about to form the word 'yes'. He shuts it again, and simply shrugs. "I frenzied when he started to pull it from my neck. He knocked me down and had me prone, and assumed it was his already. I tore his heart out of his chest before they stopped me." The words are stated matter of fact, without inflection.

"Then that's the heirloom?" Clemency leans forward to get a closer view of the item, not trying to touch it uninvited. "So small a thing to lose a life over. But a lesson learnt: never assume a fight is won until it is won."

Jonathan nods. "Yes. That is Shriek. A whistle to compel spirits to obedience." He says the name like it's a person, and much beloved beside. "It is a shame. He would have sired strong children and proved wiser if he had time to learn. I do regret it." And it sounds as if he's trying to convince himself, much as Clemency was before. "In the end, it was judged I would not be killed for my crime, but I would be shunned among my Sept. The only placed I had ever known. Miss Decik was my only surviving family that I knew of, and so I managed to barter for passage on a ship."

"A long slow journey," Clemency comments. "Well, let me say, Jonathan-yuf," and the 'yuf' bears a faint emphasis, "that you won't by any means be the only garou, or the only garou of this tribe, who came here seeking a fresh start. And who found one," she adds.

"Thank you, Clemency-yuf." There's a slight hesitance before the application of the honorific. "I have already come to care for this place. It beautiful in the Shadow, you know. My home was not. It was sad, and the spirits who frequented there took on that mournfulness. This place is alive, and there are those here who do not seem to care what my hat hides. I am content." He nods his head decisively.

"I can't claim that I don't care," Clemency corrects, "but when I look at you, I don't see an evil, I see a warrior in the good fight. I suppose that being who and what I am, that's only to be expected..."

Jonathan shakes his head. "I was not including you in that statement. I wouldn't expect a member of my tribe not to care. It is only natural." He inclines himself at the waist in an abbreviated bow. "But your observations as to what I am are refreshing, in truth. At the Riven Shell, I was one of two children they'd had in a decade breed true, and I was a mule. I think they saw it as a nail in the Sept's coffin, and Yuri's loss even more so."

Clemency seems troubled by this statement. "The Riven Shell was very small, then?" she asks cautiously. "Is it sufficiently guarded against evil?"

Jonathan shakes his head. "No, it is large. Larger than this place, from what I have heard tell. There are forty Garou, when last I was there. All of Fostern or higher rank, and we boast an Elder in our ranks. It simply seems that no child born of the Sept will experience the change. There was talk of a curse on the land. Perhaps it is true."

"I hope that's not so," Clemency says with a frown. "But it seems to be pushing coincidence, otherwise. Still, they have washed their hands of you... and you are our sept's defender now. I appreciate you can't stop caring about your birthsept, any more than I can about the One Bright Star, but..."

"This is my home now," he states firmly. "And I will defend it as such." Another smile. "I should not take any more of your time, Clemency-yuf. But I thank you, and am glad you have returned to your people."

Clemency gives a somewhat unexpected smile. "I'm glad, too. This place is special in its own unique way, like every sept. I only hope that Blackriver continues what I began, and maintains the struggle to return our standing in the eyes of the other tribes to its rightful status."

Jonathan gives a solemn nod. "I have heard that there was a time when we were thought of as little more than another tribe here. With Gaia's grace, that will not be so any longer."

"I like to think it's already not so," Clemency says. "Perhaps as a metis you are not best placed to see our true standing." Those words could have been delivered cruelly, but Clemency presents them, once more, as a simple matter of fact. "Well, I think I shall go for a run, to see how it feels to gallop the bawn in lupus without the weight of eldership dragging my paws backwards..."

Jonathan doesn't seem to take the words as anything other than a statement of fact, for what it's worth. He nods. "Falcon ward you from harm, Clemency-yuf. I think I shall sojourn in the Shadow."

Clemency gives Jonathan a gentle pat on the shoulder (well, gentle for an ahroun; it's still firm enough) before shrinking back to her lupus form, emitting two sharp barks in the same way a golfer might shout 'Fore!' or an artilleryman 'Incoming!', and dashes off at a creditable speed, a white blur between the trees.