Rite of Keres
Here are the people that told stories (and links to their parts of the log):
Near the Fire Pit, Eligio Sacateca looks around the clearing and then up at
the evening sky. He stands again and shifts, abruptly, without warning.
Near the Fire Pit, Eligio Sacateca contorts and blurs as he is transformed.
Near the Fire Pit, Eligio Sacateca ripples and changes, slipping into Crinos
form.
Near the Fire Pit, Rain Walker howls long and loud.
From Around the Fire Pit, Rain Walker can be heard to howl, ~To the Caern!~
His voice is harsh and strained as he gives the same ritual greeting as he
did the past year. ~Tonight the equinox of the harvest moon draws nigh.
Tonight we cast away our pain and burn our grief in the flames that are
Keres.~
On the eastern curve, Remiel contorts and blurs as he is transformed.
On the eastern curve, Remiel fades back slightly, a shadow passes over his
features, and he emerges in Lupus form.
On the eastern curve, Peter Follen looks over toward the fire pit at the
Uktena's howl, then back at Savage. He bows at the waist.
~Fallen-From-The-Sky, a half moon without tribe or pack, recently accepted
by the Alpha as a member of this Sept.~
Near the Fire Pit, Rain Walker gathers up the bundle of wood by the fire and
adds fuel to it until its flames lick high and bright.
At the center, Sterling sets her own small pouch down, surveying the crowd
with tail low and nervous posture. Clearly, comfort is something the
halfmoon lacks this night.
Near the Fire Pit, Touch Deer stands up and takes a deep breath as he looks
around the crowd gathered here tonight.
At the center, Sepdet finishes polishing the stone without really noting
Eligio's howl, then rises to her feet and stalks silently over towards the
ring of fire. She takes a spot near the edge closest to the fire, tucking
her feet under herself and crossing her arms.
At the center, Sepdet heads northeast to the fire pit.
At the center, Timothy pats at a spot on his jacket, where the flat outline of
some small object is visible. With a somber smile to Brittany, he motions
elegantly toward the fire pit area. "Ladies first."
On the eastern curve, Meretseger slips off her sunglasses and pockets them.
Folding her gloved hands into the pockets of her draping coat, the Strider
settles back against a tree at the edge of the caern proper. As usual,
taking the observer's role.
At the center, Sterling lowers hher head in a Lupine curtsey to her Elder,
takes up her pouch after a moment, and, at his invitation, makes the short
trip to the circle.
On the southern curve, Kosh heads into the center.
On the southern curve, Seeker comes in from the woodland to the south.
At the center, Sterling heads northeast to the fire pit.
At the center, Scott takes in a deep breath and glances at his pack-mates, and
heads towards the fire.
At the center, Timothy heads northeast to the fire pit.
On the southern curve, Seeker follows the Wheel to the Pool.
On the eastern curve, Savage follows the Wheel to the Fire Pit.
Near the Fire Pit, Savage circles the Wheel, arriving from the eastern curve.
At the center, Scott heads northeast to the fire pit.
At the center, Kosh heads northeast to the fire pit.
Near the Pool, Seeker follows the Wheel north past the Pool.
Near the Fire Pit, Savage picks up the sack, bringing it nearer the fire.
On the eastern curve, Peter Follen follows the Wheel to the Fire Pit.
Near the Fire Pit, Peter Follen circles the Wheel, arriving from the eastern
curve.
At the center, Alexander remains in the center as the general assembly moves
toward the fire.
On the eastern curve, Seeker nods to Meretseger, then makes his way towards
the fire pit.
On the eastern curve, Seeker follows the Wheel to the Fire Pit.
Near the Fire Pit, Seeker circles the Wheel, arriving from the eastern curve.
Near the Fire Pit, Rain Walker explains the rite to the younger Garou gathered
here. ~In the days before the Impergium, the days before the War of Rage,
our Gibbous Moon Dancers tell us of Keres. So far back in our history does
her tale stretch that it cannot be said for sure what tribe bore her.~ He
gathers his breath, letting these words sink in. ~So protective she was of
her packmates. So strong of will. So sure in her ways.~ He pauses, surveying
the faces. ~But the Wyrm was strong even in those days and its creatures
tracked her down, and her pack. Trapped in a cave, surrounded by the filth
and the evil power that is our own foe, with only the bodies of her pack for
company.~
Near the Fire Pit, Touch Deer moves around a bit, eventually sitting down a
feet back from the fire, so as not to be a part of the actuall participates.
On the southern curve, Shadows comes in from the woodland to the south.
On the southern curve, Shadows heads into the center.
At the center, Shadows heads northeast to the fire pit.
Near the Fire Pit, Sterling quietly flattens a patch of grass, lying there,
curling around her package, and listening to the tale retold.
Near the Fire Pit, Rain Walker waits a moment until the sounds of the gathered
Garou and the crackling fire are all that is heard. His renewed shout is
ringing and bright with shared pain. ~She would not bear the Wyrm's touch
upon their bodies and in her fury she held them off for five days and a
night. In this time she consumed their bodies until on the sixth day,
charged with the strength of their spirits, she charged into the fray. Keres
slew nine times nine Wyrm beasts that day, they say, and when she fell Gaia
saw fit to lift her spirit up into the air and set her free, with her
packmates, to run forever in the Deep Umbra.~
Near the Fire Pit, Shadows slips quietly into the Wheel, hovering on the edge
of the Fire Pit.
Near the Fire Pit, Kosh listens as he sticks to the shadows, hands around the
dark canvas bag he caries with him.
Near the Fire Pit, Rain Walker says, ~Tonight we feel her pain. Tonight we
howl for all who have fallen in the service of Gaia.~ His gaze turns on the
others around the fire, one at a time. ~This night is Keres' though, not
ours. Your Septmates have the freedom tonight to cast out their pain without
your judgement. Keres will assess their worth as she has since the night she
fell.~
Near the Fire Pit, Rain Walker turns back his head and howls. ~Tonight we howl
for my packmate, Hand of Sekhemet. For my Elder, Stormcrow of the Uktena...~
He trails off and lets the others join in the dirge.
Near the Fire Pit, Seeker nods to Sepdet in greeting, then his gaze is locked
upon Rain Walker as he howls for Hand-of-Sekhmet.
At the center, Alexander shifts upward into the warform, to howl for the
fallen of the last year, including his own packmate.
At the center, Alexander contorts and blurs as he is transformed.
At the center, Alexander shifts into Crinos form.
Near the Fire Pit, Savage contorts and blurs as he is transformed.
Near the Fire Pit, Savage fades back slightly, a shadow passes over his
features, and he emerges in Crinos form.
Near the Fire Pit, Seeker contorts and blurs as he is transformed.
Near the Fire Pit, Seeker shifts into Lupus form.
Near the Fire Pit, Kosh contorts and blurs as he is transformed.
Near the Fire Pit, Fiery Hand howls for the fallen, including his onetime
Alpha.
Near the Fire Pit, Kosh shifts into Crinos form.
Near the Fire Pit, Touch Deer shifts into the Warform along with the others,
and lets out a painful howl.
Near the Fire Pit, Touch Deer contorts and blurs as he is transformed.
Near the Fire Pit, Touch Deer shifts into Crinos form.
Near the Fire Pit, Scott shifts into the warform, howling for the Sept he
lost, and the friend that died hunting down it's betrayer.
Near the Fire Pit, Spirit-of-Words contorts and blurs as he is transformed.
Near the Fire Pit, Sterling lifts her voice with the rest, naming Justice
amoung those gone, but never forgotten.
Near the Fire Pit, Spirit-of-Words blurs and shifts into Crinos form.
Near the Fire Pit, Kosh surges into the form between, his howl ripping free as
he thinks of those gone and that he knew...and that he never knew existed.
Near the Fire Pit, Peter Follen remains stubbornly in his current form. Rather
than raise a voice unsuited for howling, he lowers his eyes respectfully in
memory of the dead.
Near the Fire Pit, Seeker lifts his voice in a howl, echoing Eligio's and
honoring the numberless dead that have fallen by his side.
Near the Fire Pit, Sepdet is uncharacteristically silent at the calling of the
dead, though she usually is first to take up the cry. Eventually she adds
her own chant: ~Toxic Four-Moons. Dusty Open-Hand. Thorn Slowly-Wins.
Horus.~ She takes a breath before dropping into a smooth, quick litany,
encompassing almost every one of those whose names are etched in stone to
the east.
Near the Fire Pit, Timothy blurs upwards, to the height of crinos, the names
he adds to the howl unfamiliar for the most part. Those familiar with the
Sept of Gaia's Bones would recognize many; most would recognize that of
Thorn-Wins-Slowly, once Ritemaster of this Sept.
Near the Fire Pit, Kosh's voice shudders as he whispers names, voice feet
against a gravel road. "Carl Hides from the Wolf, Bitter Water...who called
me Ambasador. Spark..."
Near the Fire Pit, Shadows is quiet, at first, and then she howls, mostly
adding to the noise, but singing the name of her missing tribal elder, and a
few unfamiliar names.
Near the Fire Pit, Rain Walker draws the dirge to a close. ~For all of Gaia's
children that sleep beneath her bones.~ He lifts his head, his eyes bright
and clear. When he unwraps the leather bundle by his side it contains a
small and rough carving of an owl.
Near the Fire Pit, Seeker's howl falls silent as Sepdet calls Horus' name. A
mournful expression passes over his features briefly, then he stares into
the fire.
At the center, Randall remains the 6'9" human, dressed in his black robes. In
a well-modulated voice he too can name many, Song of Lightning, Ayat,
Vladimir Stormshouter, Rachel, and he adds in Rockslide, even though the
lupus still lives.
Near the Fire Pit, Rain Walker looks around the circle. He starts with four
simple words. ~Tell us your stories.~
Near the Fire Pit, Kosh slips into homid form to hear the stories, and to say
his own.
Near the Fire Pit, Kosh contorts and blurs as he is transformed.
Near the Fire Pit, Kosh shifts into Homid form.
Near the Fire Pit, Rain Walker turns to the brooding Theurge Strider first and
nods to Sepdet to start.
Near the Fire Pit, Timothy also returns to homid form, his birth form. He
draws a flat piece of wood from a jacket pocket, the top carved half hidden
under the palm of his hand, and listens.
Near the Fire Pit, Sepdet's usually musical singsong is dry and flat tonight,
and she glares balefully into the fire as she speaks. ~This tale is known by
some, so I won't belabor it.~~There was once a mad Seer who believed in a
prophecy, that one of his alpha's cubs would be great of Gaia, one of Wyrm.
But his alpha was cursed to bear no pup by wolf or human. So he coupled
folly with crime. And when the pups were born, he exposed the boy to die,
and saved the girl, throwing himself between her mother and the enemy.
Near the Fire Pit, Sepdet's voice twists briefly with bitterness. ~The girl
was raised believing her sire had sacrificed himself for her, and she strove
to rise to his expectations. Sometimes she looked for him; for he was not
dead, only lost. Then the boy came back. He was like her in all ways, save
that, abandoned by his father, the Wyrm had been his nursemaid. Even
tainted, he still fought for his loved ones, defended what he believed was
right, and sought out his sister to 'save' her from those he thought abused
and corrupted her. He was a sweet boy. They helped her slay him, when the
truth was found.
Near the Fire Pit, Spirit-of-Words shifts back down into his birthform as
well, and settles down near the fire, resting his arms on his upraised knees.
Near the Fire Pit, Scott contorts and blurs as he is transformed.
Near the Fire Pit, Scott blurs and shifts into Homid form.
Near the Fire Pit, Sepdet says, ~He has no Garou name. Spawned in folly, his
father then saw fit to cast him aside.~ She pauses briefly, flipping a small
flat crescent of wood--or perhaps the representation of a knife--into the
fire. ~There were two cubs. They were no different. I curse my sire's crime
with my brother's bones. I forgive my father, but I shall seek him never
again.~
Near the Fire Pit, Fiery Hand listens attentively, as if for the first time to
this familiar telling.
Near the Fire Pit, Kosh remains curled into a tight sphere of darkness.
Near the Fire Pit, Scab-Survivor watches the wooden crescent fall into the
fire.
Near the Fire Pit, Seeker gazes evenly at Sepdet, listening as if he is
memorizing every word.
Near the Fire Pit, Sepdet seems to have come to a close, but she brings out
another small item: a shard of silvered glass. Her fingertip blackens as she
adds it tenderly to the coals, with a touch of warmth in her voice for the
first time this evening. ~But this is for Shattered Moon. I adopted her the
night Thorn died, when I wouldn't let her sacrifice herself uselessly in
battle. She was killed a few moons later, on a hunt to which I'd sent her.~
At the center, Randall listens soberly, arms folded within the voluminous
black sleeves of his robe.
At the center, Thunder's Claws obviously has heard this story before - many
times before - because he displays very little reaction.
Near the Fire Pit, Scab-Survivor's eyes soften as Sepdet ends her story.
Near the Fire Pit, Shadows has not heard this story before, and stares at her
friend for a long time after Sepdet is done, thoughtfully.
Near the Fire Pit, Rain Walker only nods in silence to Sepdet, without
judgement. He turns to Timothy.
Near the Fire Pit, Timothy fingers at a flat wooden block, carved with an
unskilled hand. "This is a story of Atticus Songs-Spread-Like-Fire, galliard
to the Silver Fangs, child of Lion, one-time alpha to his pack," he begins
simply. "It was not too many years ago that you could hear his stories, not
just the ones told by him, but the ones told *of* him. There were some who
thought him an ahroun by the skill and surety with which he wielded a
klaive."
Near the Fire Pit, Timothy says, "Though there are many stories that could be
told, the one I choose tonight is of his final fight. It's odd, maybe...
There are few details known of that night's battle, no witnesses to set down
his deeds, no crowning glory to end this warrior's life. Still, it's the the
story I choose to tell."
Near the Fire Pit, Timothy continues, "Songs-Spread-Like-Fire was from the
Caern of the Earthspine, not too far from here in Colorado. He lived there
with his pack, and he lived there with his family, the latter consisting
solely of his wife and his son. His Garou son, or so the theurges foretold
soon after the boy's birth."
Near the Fire Pit, There is a noticeable pause before the Silver Fang
continues, the words even and smooth though with an undertone of sorrow to
them. "It happened one day, when the boy was still a boy and not yet through
his First Change, that he came across his father and one of his packmates in
a moment of privacy. The boy had already been taught the basic tenets of the
Litany, and he knew that what he witnessed was a violation of the Litany's
first law." He pauses again, to draw another breath before continuing.
"Perhaps, if the boy had spoken up then, the story would have a different
ending. But he was young, and he was ashamed for his father and scared for
himself, and so he kept silent."
Near the Fire Pit, Timothy says, "Several months passed, and a distance grew
between Atticus and his packmate. The pack dissolved and Atticus left for
England, part of a mission pack sent to help a sister caern. The child was
born in his absence."
Near the Fire Pit, Timothy clears his throat slightly, the story continuing to
its by now inevitable tragic conclusion. "Scales covered parts of her upper
body, her ears were lobeless, one arm was withered and lacking several
fingers. There was no hope of covering the shame of the child's birth,
though when answers were demanded of the mother, Josephine
Leads-With-Quiet-Words, she refused to name the father. The boy by this time
was more afraid of keeping silent than of speaking, so he was the one who
spoke his father's name. Atticus was summoned back from England immediately."
Near the Fire Pit, Timothy says, "No one knows the details behind Atticus'
final battle. There was, in the Umbra between caern and city, a stretch that
had fallen fully into the hands of the Wyrm's minions; already several
foolish cubs had lost their lives there, and the ragabash brash enough to
scout the area on his own never returned. The bodies of Atticus and
Josephine were found there some days later. Though the taint of the area
remained palpable, the physical threat was removed, at the cost of a final
two lives."
Near the Fire Pit, Timothy concludes, in a quiet voice, "This is a story of my
father, Atticus Songs-Spread-Like-Fire, galliard to the Silver Fangs, child
of Lion, one-time alpha to his pack." He tosses the carving into the fire,
where the flames readily enough accept the tribute. "Let none question the
glory he found in death."
Near the Fire Pit, Rain Walker nods in silence, as well, to Timothy. His eyes
seek out Spirit of Words.
Near the Fire Pit, Scab-Survivor's eyes are wide and he is silent as the wood
falls into the flames.
Near the Fire Pit, Scott rolls forward from his sitting position to a
crouching one in front of the fire. He holds a ring made of wood, much like
the one on his finger.
Near the Fire Pit, Scott crouches by the fire, his arms resting on his knees,
his weight forward on his feet. The flames backlight his face in erie,
almost angry tones. He begins softly, just loud enough for people to hear
without strainig,"It began close to a year ago now. On a calm autumn night.
My pack had been sent to investigate the report that there was a leech
'involved' with one of our kin. To our surprise, and amusement, we found
that this leech was no leech at all. He was what the homids call a blood
doll. A human that imitates the actions of a leech, and derives some kind of
sick pleasure out of it. Needless to say, our evening was cut short with the
lack of true prey, and our pack headed home early."
Near the Fire Pit, Scott says,"As we walked towards into the Caern proper, we
heard sounds coming from where the cubs slept. Assuming one of them was up
to something when they ought be sleeping, we made are way over to
investigate. The noises sounded like there were being muffled, so we
approched quietly. When we saw the cubs, though, we stopped dead still at
the scene before us."
Near the Fire Pit, Rain Walker begins to chant, softly, mostly under his
breath.
At the center, Thunder's Claws has also heard this story before, and has very
little reaction as the crimes of the traitor are revealed.
Near the Fire Pit, Scott's expression darkens, and his eyes fall to the fire.
He stares into it as he continues,"The cubs were dying, being slughtered and
tortured by a Dancer and several banes. They were viritually defenseless,
but some of them fought anyways. I remember Ana clawing at the Dancer's face
as he ripped her apart..."He trails off, and after a moment looks up to
continue, his jaw clenched,"My pack fell upon the wyrmspawn, Gaia's rage hot
in our blood. But my Alpha said to me, Spirit, awaken the Caern, warn them,
they must know in case we fall. Though I wanted dearly to sate my rage on
wyrm-flesh, I obeyed my alpha. I ran howling through the caern, calling
Gaia's warriors to defend her, and made my way to the elder's cave."
Near the Fire Pit, Kosh listens to the others stories of woe and hears his own
tale grow smaller and more insignificant as he rolls it around in his mind.
Unwritten, unpracticed, unheard even by it's author.
Near the Fire Pit, Scott says,"I scrambled inside the cave, my lupus feet
scrabbling for purchase on the rough stone. As I moved into the cave, my
heart dropped out of my stomach. They Wyrm was cunning, you see. It struck
at both our future and past at the same time. The elders of the Sept lay
dead on the floor. Their betrayer stood across the room from me, his bane
companions between us. Kilcaid snarled a mocking laugh as he saw me, and
ripped the head from the gatekeeper's dead form."
Near the Fire Pit, Sepdet picks at a stained sleeve restlessly, face going
very still as the Galliard narrates his story, though she barely seems to be
listening.
Near the Fire Pit, Scott's eyes darken, and his gaze shifts lower. "I remember
the rage flowing through me. Shouting out and calling him the traitor that
he was. Lunging towards him only to be knocked back by th pack of banes. I
remember their claws ripping at me, hitting the hard stone floor. Then there
was something in my hand, a bright flahs of light. Ii was on my feet again,
striking and slashing the Banes with a weapon, a long knife, although I knew
not what at the time. I stumbled out of the cave, to the dark sight of the
caern-wide battle. I went to my pack, searching them out, trying to drive
off what wyrm-things I could, and I watched as my Sept-mates died around me.
Yet nothing I did. Not how fast I ran, not how hard I fought, stopped the
dying. If only I had seen the signs in Kilcaid, perhaps....." He shakes his
head.
Near the Fire Pit, Shadows moves forward, slowly, touching Kosh gently with
her nose.
Near the Fire Pit, Scott says "But I didn't. And I held my pack-mate's as they
died, watched the spirit slip from their eyes. Since that day I have been
afraid. Afraid of my own judgement. I afraid that I would not, could not
live up to my potention. You see, they though that I was some hero reborn.
Brought back to lead them into glory. In the end through, I could do nothing
but watch them die. It was only by Gaia's grace I survived. But, there
spirits have been avenged. Kilcaid has seen justice. I thought, I thought
that when he was dead, the nightmares would stop. I do not have them often,
but I do have them. Always the same battle, yet what ever I do always the
same outcome. I...I want to put that behind me. The Sept of the Gathering
Storm I knew is dead, and it is time to let it rest in peace."
Near the Fire Pit, Scott licks his dry lips, and says firmly,"But that ends
tonight. I put the guilt and grief behind me." He tosses the wooden ring
into the fire, and then slips the metal one off his finger and onto a
leather cord before settling back down.
Near the Fire Pit, Rain Walker, still chanting under his breath, nods to
Scott. He remains this way, head down, for a moment before indicating to
Fiery Hand that it is his turn.
Near the Fire Pit, Fiery Hand steps forward at the end of the Silver Fang's
tale. He hefts the largish sack now in his taloned hand. ~Tonight I tell two
stories, for in he comparison of them is my own tale of loss. Hear without
judgement.~
Near the Fire Pit, Come hear of the valour of the eleven who came when the
Warder called,
Of the nine dependable enough to go all out a night and a day for Gaia,
Mountainsong did not stint to generously give blood, strength, and more,
Ever Grinning protected the weak from predation,
Silence Through Agony slew the Wyrm's seven Spiral Dancers and their avatar,
Seeks the Truth stayed calm through the tracking - steadfast and sure,
Chaser Never Rests prudently scouted and formed packs for our purpose,
We kept to our purpose temperately, without excesses that would weaken us,
Sterling swiftly and mercifully brought death to our quarry,
Runs Through Fire justly announced our intention before falling upon them,
Manes respected our honor, though the enemy might have none themselves,
Fiery Hand, loyal to Gaia, left no comrade undefended to die,
We showed Gaia's justice to the Wyrm, and all her foul brood fell to us,
We swore ourselves to the Great Hunt, and we carried out our vows,
This was the challenge our Mother set us, fairly given, fairly accepted.
Near the Fire Pit, Fiery Hand finishes the tale of the successful Hunt and
recites another story, new to the others.... ~That was my song when it was
fresh.. Hear wha it has become. Yesterday I tore your head off.
I spit in your dying mouth.
I laughed in your dying eyes.
Your pathetic claws took a chunk of me,
but I ground your skull beneath my feet and howled.
I still feel your brains oozing luxury between my toes.
I revel in the dirt in your white-white fur.
My coat of white mocks your purity.
Today you yammer on and on about how superior you are.
Your tongue wags, you buffoon,
but I remember Yesterday.~
On the eastern curve, Meretseger purses her lips slightly and shifts her
weight from one foot to the other, nose faintly wrinkled.
Near the Fire Pit, Peter Follen arches one eyebrow at this new song.
Near the Fire Pit, Sterling just looks confused.
At the center, Randall turns to give Alex a wide-eyed look of surprise at this.
Near the Fire Pit, Shadows, near Kosh, tilts her head towards Remy. Her eyes
are grave, and unsurprised.
At the center, Thunder's Claws simply shrugs his shoulders at his alpha.
Near the Fire Pit, The fire stirs, brushed this way and that by a light
breeze. Eligio does not respond to the story as the hulking Garou continues
to chant softly. He picks out a newer Garou and nods to Peter Follen.
Near the Fire Pit, Scab-Survivor knits his brow, and grimaces.
Near the Fire Pit, Sepdet flickers a grim smile at the Hunt's telling, but
otherwise she still seems rather preoccupied tonight.
Near the Fire Pit, Fiery Hand finishes his singing, drawing his carving, the
image of Kilcaid's head, perfect in every detail, as it was when he died,
from he sack. ~I have lost my song. It is now a twisted and bitter thing. I
vow to not sing again, until I have reclaimed control.~
Near the Fire Pit, Kosh listens and absorbs, but says nothing, fingers toying
with the dark bag by his side, waiting until the ritual's end.
Near the Fire Pit, Fiery Hand throws the talisman into the fire..
Near the Fire Pit, Peter Follen clears his throat quietly. When he speaks, his
voice is pitched to carry, much louder than normally is. ~Eight years ago, I
was cast out of my tribe. I had never been truly accepted within it, born of
two who violated the first law. Nevertheless they had kept me, thinking me
their own. I was not. I had never truly known lonliness until I that moment.
Those of you who have been without a pack have felt the shadow of what I
have endured. For eight years I have journeyed from Sept to Sept, lending
aid where I might but never belonging to any. I have seen many good Garou
die, very few of which I might truly have called 'friend'.~
Near the Fire Pit, Peter Follen glances over at the Silver Fang Galliard.
~Like Spirit-of-the-Words, this ends for me tonight. Mountainsong has
accepted me into your Sept as a full member. Moreover, he has given me a
command, to do that which I never should have had done alone. He said I must
find a tribe to take me in, and so I will do. If none here will accept me, I
will move on, and never again will I be satisfied with the title of 'Ronin'.
I will find a tribe to accept me, here or elsewhere, and I will cease to be
an outsider; I will take my place among the Garou once again.~ With that, he
reaches into one of his pockets and removes a figurine, small enough to fit
in the palm, carved by someone with at least some skill in the art. He
tosses it into the fire, and those looking closely might recognize the
falcon before it is consumed by the flame.
Near the Fire Pit, Sterling contorts and blurs as she is transformed.
Near the Fire Pit, Brittany shifts into Homid form.
Near the Fire Pit, Rain Walker nods to Peter, dark, wild Crinos eyes assessing
Peter's words as they have not assessed the others. Finally, he turns to
Brittany.
On the eastern curve, Meretseger smiles thinly.
Near the Fire Pit, Fiery Hand contorts and blurs as he is transformed.
Near the Fire Pit, Sepdet lifts her head and looks towards Peter thoughtfully,
eyes narrowed in cool scrutiny.
Near the Fire Pit, Fiery Hand fades back slightly, a shadow passes over his
features, and he emerges in Lupus form.
Near the Fire Pit, Scab-Survivor, as others, looks Peter over thoughtfully.
Near the Fire Pit, Savage studies Peter Follen speculatively, then looks o
Kosh.
Near the Fire Pit, Brittany stands, slowly, from four legs to two a task she
knows well, yet seems afraid to somehow bobble, here. She looks across the
others, before adressing the fire, rather than meet anyone's gaze. "While I
was in Harvard, earning my law degree, I was honored to be acceoted, first
as a probitionary, then full, member of the Harvard Pack. This pack, made up
entirely of Silver Fangs, is dedicated mainly to giving us a way to stay
calm and controlled in such a high-pressure environment. We would hunt
smaller Banes, such as those created by the stressed students, or those that
preyed upon these impressionable young minds. To join was a high honor for
one as unproven as myself, and I repaid them with failure."
Near the Fire Pit, Kosh listens carefully, eyes and face impassive as a damn
holding back floodwaters.
Near the Fire Pit, Brittany's eyes reflect each dancing flame, as she relates
the story of this failure. "I know it was not much... only our Alpha, Kip,
and my friend Dennis the Seer had managed to attain Fostern, after all...
but it kept us in shape, and alert. At least, that was what we thought.
Dennis, who was always categorizing spirits in 'Classes' had found one
stronger than our normal prey, a 'class 6', he said, which would be a
high-end Jaggling. We discussed the issue, and decided that, despite our
lack in power, that we would tackle the foe. Preperations were made, plans
hatched, and then we set forth."
Near the Fire Pit, Brittany continues, more historian than talespinner, more
memory than story. "We tracked the beast, Kohl, to a construction site.
Trapped, he could only escape three ways. The six of us, of course, split up
to block them, and advanced carefully. Dennis and I took a side-route, and
were briefly delayed by smaller Banes Kohl had summoned up. Soon enough, we
reached him, but the battle had already begun. Kip had engaged Kohl, while
Myra went for aid. Dennis sent me to the side, as a reserve, and tried to
sneak near enough to put a Fetish to use. He... never made it."
Near the Fire Pit, Brittany's voice quiets, but still carries, training
overwhelming emotion for now. "Kip was steadily losing ground, and Myra too
far to save him. It fell to me, and I thought that I was ready. The battle
raged from the floor to the beams, the two dancing together eight stories
above the ground as I took the Fetish from Dennis' cooling hands. I stepped
onto the girder, and..."
Near the Fire Pit, Brittany says, simply, "...I froze."
Near the Fire Pit, Brittany's hands move, the only outward sign of how much it
sosts her to say on, yet despite the robe section she kneads, she does so.
"I cannot describe how it feels, to be paralyzed in fear. I had had some...
troubles... in the past, but never had I been so high and exposed! My heart
pounded in my ears while my blood all but sung, calling for me to help my
own. The battle went not well, and, indeed, as I stood there, helpless, Kip
also fell. Kohl turned his eyes to me, wounded, but standing, knowing that I
could finish him, but he smiled as he saw my eyes could not lift from the
ground below. He laughed... Falcon, I can never forget his laugh... then
lept from high, to track down the others."
Near the Fire Pit, Brittany adds, with the fear recceeding, but a humbleness
replacing it, "Myra had managed to find the others, and, together, the three
dispatched Kohl. They found me curled into a ball by a pole... I still have
no memory of moving... and told me that it was not my fault, that fear could
cripple anyone, but I knew better. My Alpha was slain because I was weak,
and I will never forget."
At the center, Thunder's Claws exhales softly at the Silver Fang's story. Very
softly, so that it couldn't possibly carry to the fire, he rumbles to his
packmate, ~That took balls.~
Near the Fire Pit, Brittany steps forward, holding her pouch above the flames.
Of note to the few who know her well, her amulet is conspicuous in its
absence. "I have often asked myself, if it happened again, could I act?
Could I take those three simple steps that would have saved a life, or would
my foolish fear stop me again? And I know only that I do not know." With
that, she releases the pouch, contents unseen, into the blaze.
Near the Fire Pit, Shadows looks upon Brittany with the deepest of sympathy
and understanding.
Near the Fire Pit, Scab-Survivor looks upon the fang with a somber expression.
Near the Fire Pit, Brittany turns, meeting no one's eyes, and, again, takes
her place amoung the others, yet apart, never allowing anyone to get near.
She settles into her lupine form once more, and falls quiet.
Near the Fire Pit, Savage listens, and remembers.
Near the Fire Pit, Kosh hears Brittany's words and feels them sink into him
like lead. He peers at his bag like a sculptor about to smash his statue of
David after seeing Michelangelo's.
Near the Fire Pit, Rain Walker continues his chant as he turns to Thunder's
Claws as the flames lick at this latest offering.
At the center, Randall quietly agrees. "A burden important to have rid of in
this manner," he replies to Thunder's Claws.
At the center, Thunder's Claws steps toward the fire quickly. ~My story's
short, and it's not nearly as important as some of the ones we've heard
tonight. At least, not to most.~
At the center, Thunder's Claws heads northeast to the fire pit.
Near the Fire Pit, Scott looks over to Sterling, and nods slightly, a hint of
pride showing in his expression.
Mark-Of-Thorns works her way free of the dense treeline to the west.
Mark-Of-Thorns has arrived.
Near the Fire Pit, Thunder's Claws says, ~There was a Get. She was a good
fighter, and a good Theurge. She made a mistake in the city that got her
sent out here, forced to stay in the Caern, not allowed to go anywhere. She
was alone one day, in the Umbra, and the Spirals came for her. Maybe she
didn't know better. Maybe she was too prideful. Maybe she was beaten and
carried off. The truth is we'll never know, but it doesn't matter. She
walked the Spiral. She... she did a lot of things after that, none of which
I'm going to detail now. But she was finally put down by Second-Chance, on
Anubis' order.~ He looks around now, meeting the gaze of those around the
fire. ~She was my packmate. And she's been reclaimed now. I don't think
Second-Chance ever forgave her. And I don't know if Shea did. But I have,
because someone had to. And because I want her remembered as a Get, and as a
Garou, not as an enemy.~
Near the Fire Pit, Thunder's Claws walks over to the edge of the clearing and
picks up a small piece of wood. It looks like a comb, and certainly not
something he carved himself. ~I didn't make this, but it belonged to her. It
was left in our house after she left us, and it seemed a more appropriate
token than anything I could have ever made.~ With that, he tosses it in with
the others that have been sent into the fire tonight.
Near the Fire Pit, Sepdet glances up from her withdrawn brooding at Thunder's
Claws with a glimmer of understanding and a faint nod.
Near the Fire Pit, Savage listens, and remembers.
Near the Fire Pit, Thunder's Claws turns away and walks back toward the
center. If he has any reaction to his own story, he keeps his face carefully
averted from everyone to hide it.
Near the Fire Pit, Thunder's Claws heads into the center.
Near the Fire Pit, Rain Walker renews the strength of his chant as he turns to
Kosh.
Near the Fire Pit, Scab-Survivor shifts a little in his poisition, face still
somber, and turns to look at Kosh.
Mark-Of-Thorns heads west, out past the rim of the Wheel.
Mark-Of-Thorns has left.
Near the Fire Pit, Kosh rises slowly, shadows clinging to him like jelly
gasoline. He reaches down and opens his bag.
Near the Fire Pit, Kosh says softly, "Garou measure pain in many ways. Most
times, they measure pain is scars, losses in the bodies of comrades." He
lifts a wooden base of some kind from his bag. "This pain is soul pain. It
eats like silver from the inside, shatters the will, but leaves the flesh
untouched. It has no physical signs, and is regarded as lesser by some, but
those who know it understand it can destroy utterly."
Near the Fire Pit, Kosh reaches into the bag and removes an intricately carved
statue of Kosh. Not the Kosh that stands by the fire, telling the tale, but
his namesake. The Vorlon Kosh, even in miniature, towers over all who see
it. Cut with such precision, one can almost see the eyepiece flutter and
move, glowering on all. "This is a story of my Father. Not my real father,
but my spiritual father. The one who's name I carry. The one who's standards
I try to live up to. The one who watches over every move I ever make, ever
have made, and ever will make." He raises the statue so the eye, the single
dark iris, glares at them all. "Vorlons are like Garou in one way: They
cannot countinance a mistake. And they punish those who commit them." With a
sharp *SNAP* he locks the statue into a dovetail in the base.
At the center, "What is /that/?" murmurs Randall, as the figurine is revealed.
At the center, Thunder's Claws shakes his head and shrugs. ~Never seen it.~
Near the Fire Pit, Kosh's voice grows dark, eyes flooding with self-loathing
as the memory takes him. "I made a mistake. While attempting to interrogate
a NetSpider who carried important information I made a stupid, stupid
mistake. The Spider was lost. And with it, probably the lives of many Garou
I have never seen. With one error, I may have condemend hundreds to their
death without having seen a single face." He reaches into his bag once more.
"Shades punished me for my mistake. But physical damage was not enough. My
Father, his cold eye shining at me, condemend me as a failure at everything
that meant anything to me. And that night, in my mind, I heard voices
calling to me..."
Near the Fire Pit, Seeker peers at the thing Kosh holds, but makes no comment.
Near the Fire Pit, Scab-Survivor's face is twisted in horror and astonishment
as he eyes the...thing...that Kosh has made.
Near the Fire Pit, Sepdet lets out a sigh as the winds shift again and starts
paying closer attention, overglancing the small figuring with the critical
eye of a theurge investigating yet one more unfamiliar spirit. She flashes
the Wendigo a sour, disconcertingly mocking grin.
Near the Fire Pit, Kosh withdraws from the bag another statuette. This one
features a human man with sharp features and a hateful stare. Clad in
Victorian clothes, his arm brutally slashes a cane across the air. The
motion within the statue connotates a force strong enough to shatter
mountains. "He and his servitors followed me as I stalked the Umbra,
smashing my heart into cracked glass as dawn grew closer. Vorlons don't make
mistakes. Garou are not allowed to make mistakes. I at best an incompetant
burden on the others and at worst a blind tool of the Wyrm for my
stupidity." He pauses. "Dawn crept on me in the shadows. Soon the day would
be upon me and the voices demanded I do the only useful thing I could and
stay after the rise of the sun...and die."
Near the Fire Pit, Kosh slams the second statue into place.
Near the Fire Pit, "But, I did not listen to the voices, calling me to join
the dead." Kosh lowers his head. "I heard the voices of the living, saying I
had to much to do here. That suicide was the coward's exit. That I could do
more as a live Garou than as a dead one. So, I returned home to my
failure...And have suffered for that decision ever since."
Near the Fire Pit, Kosh reaches into his bag and removes the final piece of
the puzzle. Himself. In Crinos. In pain. Wounded, bloody, chest torn open in
a massive gory slash where the human's blow touched it, the mighty war form
remains trapped in a mesh of some kind and bears the blow with visible tears
at his eyes. "Since then, I cannot sleep without hearing the cries of the
Garou who died and will die from my error. I cannot return to my duties as a
seer of Gaia because my actions could cost more lives. And I every day I
wake to hear the tale of this one mistake repeated over and over with such
venom that I question why I stayed alive to hear it." A dark glimmer crosses
his eye. "Even Cassius of the Ratkin has heard the tale and takes time to
ridicule my stupidity." A pause. "This I could take were it not for my
Father's stare. Many of you don't know or care who he is, but I do. There is
a burden to my name and that night I realized that I was not worthy of
carrying his literal mantle. I realized that no matter how I tried, I would
not be him. I would not even be his shadow. I would be nothing."
Near the Fire Pit, Sterling's head lifts, for the first time save her tale, at
something Kosh says, ears flickering into life.
Near the Fire Pit, Savage watches figures burn in the fire. Occasionally, he
hazards a look in Sepdet's direction, but makes no interruption of the
telling.
Near the Fire Pit, Scab-Survivor looks very very confused, but he says nothing.
Near the Fire Pit, Kosh places the final statue into the base, completing the
tryptich of Vorlon, Inquisitor, and Garou. "All I ask is for the strength to
grow beyond my frailties and accept them. All I ask is for the patience of
others in this world as I do the best that I can." He snarls the next words:
"I am not my Father! I am aloof, perfect, without mercy or weakness! I am a
simple, mortal creature that makes mistakes. Give me the strength to live
with this, to live with the songs of dead Garou whose faces I cannot
see...or let me sleep, forever." With a growl, he heaves the tryptich into
the fire, where it ignites and burns hotly.
Near the Fire Pit, Rain Walker turns, finally, to Randall.
Near the Fire Pit, Kosh turns to all. "I can see in your eyes that many do not
understand. Remember: understanding is a three edged sword. The first edge
cuts yourself, deeply. The second edge cuts the world, forever changing it
and darkening it further. The third cuts unnoticed. You never will truely
see what your understanding will bring...and you can never mourn when it
comes at the price of a life." WIth that, he retreats into the shadows and
lowers his head. Silence.
At the center, Randall picks his way gravely over.
At the center, Randall heads northeast to the fire pit.
Near the Fire Pit, Randall is silent for a short while before beginning,
regarding the assembled Garou with the firelight illuminating a serious and
more open expression than they are accustomed to seeing him wear. "Twenty
nine summers is old indeed for a Garou to achieve the rank of Fostern," he
begins... "And while there might be those who might scoff at a Shadow Lord
feeling his greatest concern to be the issue of his rank, when the Garou's
battle is of so much greater a scope, but let me tell you that where I was
first raised and then trained, rank was very much the measure of the man."
Near the Fire Pit, Randall says "Back when I was a Cliath of what I might now
think the tender age of nineteen, I thought to Challenge to prove myself
worthy to be called Fostern. To Challenge at that age was something I knew
full well to be considered arrogance in that particular Sept, but I was a
victim of circumstances beyond my control and I never learned whether I
would have been successful or not."
Near the Fire Pit, Randall pauses to think carefully what he can safely
confess even here amongst his own Septmates.
At the center, Thunder's Claws straightens only a bit at the thought of
challenging at nineteen to be 'arrogance'. This, after all, is not that
other Sept.
Near the Fire Pit, Randall says "In fear for my very life at the claws of the
formidable Alpha, Wrath of the Heavens, I was smuggled out of the country by
people who kept me permanently blindfold, themselves fearful that if their
precautions weren't good enough, and I was caught, that I would have been
forced to reveal their identities to Wrath himself.""
Near the Fire Pit, Seeker glances up to hear Randall's story.
Near the Fire Pit, "For six years," recounts Randall, "I hid. I cowered, doing
nothing of note and little enough of value to the Sept with whom I stayed,
at the Caern of the Sun's Pillar. I guarded a site the Uktena were
'interested in', and which at the end of those six years they declared
openly at least to be of no importance after all. Suffice it to say that my
shame was great, even if my fear continued to be greater."
Near the Fire Pit, Scab-Survivor looks...astonished, to find that Randall ever
felt such overwhelming fear.
Near the Fire Pit, Randall says "The end of this time was when I came to
Washington, but under a new and hopefully untraceable name, 'Klaive of
Night'. Age has been... no privelege, and all my time here I have been
haunted by the upbringing I was given. Was I incompetent? Was I unworthy?
Was I... 'a waste of Gaia's time' as I had been raised to think?" Randall's
gaze looks round the Garou, seeking to impart his feelings to the audience
through the earnestness of his expression, and adds, "You probably cannot
imagine the standards against which an orthodox Shadow Lord Sept teaches its
up and coming Garou to measure themselves."
Near the Fire Pit, Kosh's eyes glimmer in the darkness, fixed on Randall's
story. His hands curl about the empty bag and he listens, and hears a sword
with three edges cut the world.
Near the Fire Pit, Randall says "In part my confidence has already grown; when
I first came here I still kept secret my Riting name of 'Sky's Mantle
Darkens', but already I have revealed that part of my past. Now I stand
Fostern, and if events dictate it I will face my past with my head held
high. I am Jurgen von Schrantztal, and I stand ready to let critics of my
past seek their satisfaction on my flesh and sinew." The Shadow Lord stands
silent for a long moment, not looking around, but his eyes staring into
space as he remembers that which for so long has been shut away. His
black-stained wooden token is a finely-carved but faceless wolf, which he
consigns to the flames that it should no longer be so. After a few moments'
watching it burn, he returns to his place.
Near the Fire Pit, Savage listens, and marks well this story, commending it to
memory.
Near the Fire Pit, Rain Walker stops chanting, finally. ~Many things are lost,
in many ways. I have lost friends and allies in these years and I cannot
give them all the honour they deserve. So tonight I will not even try.~ He
is silent for a moment, about to take up the chant again. Then stops.
~Sometimes the loss of ignorance is as painful than the blood on our hands.
Our fur. Only a few short months ago I had a veil torn from my eyes by Owl;
I walked the edge of the shadows that divide this world from the next.
Near the Fire Pit, Randall heads into the center.
Near the Fire Pit, Rain Walker says, ~I looked, in part of the short time that
I was there, for some of those I had lost. I did not find them. I should
never have expected it; our dead do not follow those of the humans. And,
those kinfolk I knew were scattered wide across this land. I left a part of
my spirit there, I think, amidst the suffering and the pain and the
loneliness. I will go back for it some day.~
Near the Fire Pit, Rain Walker says, ~I left a woman there, as well. She
reminded me of somebody I had met; a woman too weak-willed to stand up for
herself or for her son. I didnt know her well but when the Wyrm came into
her life, my packmates were there. Gauntlet, before we were Gauntlet, tried
to save a family from the violence brought on by the Wyrms corruption. We
were too slow to act and a boys mother paid the price of her silent fear
with her life. Her spirit. Her very soul.~
Near the Fire Pit, Rain Walker says ~I felt grief, and guilt, and shame. But
for a long time I also didnt know whether to blame myself or to blame her
weakness. Now, knowing what lies on the other side of the shroud and knowing
where she is, I know it doesnt matter. We pay the price of living. She paid
the price of dieing. I paid it too, but shell never be able to tear back the
shroud like we can.~ He tosses a statue of Owl into the fire.
Near the Fire Pit, Immediately the fire flares up, singeing eyebrows of those
Garou too close to it. Those tokens that did not burn before go up now in a
bright flash and when the fire burns down in a few moments there is a circle
of ash on the edge of the stones ringing the fire pit.
Near the Fire Pit, Rain Walker calls on Keres to grant her strength to the
Garou, his voice ringing out to the night sky. There is a presence that
wraps itself about the Caern like a tangible thing. Eligio Sacateca takes a
small bit of ash from the edge of the fire pit, pinched between two long
fingers, and tastes it, taking the strength of Keres into himself and he
signals the others to do the same. The presence seems to strengthen.
Near the Fire Pit, Sterling glances to her Elder, the highest of all gathered.
Near the Fire Pit, Peter Follen doesn't move from where he is, waiting for his
superiors to move in first.
At the center, Thunder's Claws begins toward the fire, touching his packmate's
arm as the two cross.
At the center, Thunder's Claws heads northeast to the fire pit.
Near the Fire Pit, Timothy watches, silent, as the last of the tales is
unspun. He moves after this evening's ritemaster does, to pinch from a spot
nearby.
Near the Fire Pit, Kosh waits in the dark for the others to pass.
At the center, Randall heads northeast to the fire pit.
Near the Fire Pit, As if Timothy's move were a signal, Randall and Thunder's
Claws move in at once, the younger Ahroun a step behind the older. Both take
from the ashes as directed by the Ritemaster and step back to make room.
Near the Fire Pit, Scab-Survivor watches the others pass by, although he stays
seated. He looks thoughtful.
Near the Fire Pit, Savage performs his part in the Rite, following in his turn.
Near the Fire Pit, Sepdet rises to her feet unhurriedly, proffers a curt but
respectful nod to the gathered Garou and the fire, and pads away.
Near the Fire Pit, Scott leans over, and brings the ash to his mouth, tasting
it as well.
Near the Fire Pit, Sterling takes her turn, now, wolf-scooping a burnt and
crunchy bit, teeth working quickly to make short work of it, and returning
to her grassy bed.
Near the Fire Pit, Sepdet follows the Wheel west, away from the fire pit.
On the northern curve, Sepdet circles the Wheel, coming from the Fire Pit in
the south.
Near the Fire Pit, Peter Follen watches the Groundskeeper leave without taking
part in the close of the Rite. He looks disturbed, to say the least.
Near the Fire Pit, Shadows fades into the shadows, watching quietly.
Near the Fire Pit, Kosh watches Sepdet leave and bows his head. Walking to the
ashes with his head low, he murmurs something in a tongue resembling Hebrew,
and brings a pich of ash to his lips and tongue.
On the northern curve, Sepdet turns to the north, and leaves past the rim of
the Wheel.
Near the Fire Pit, Peter Follen moves in, not last, but having given his
betters sufficient time to go in first if they wish it. He tastes the ashes
as well, and murmurs a soft prayer, then retreats into the shadows.
Near the Fire Pit, The presence starts to fade as the last Garou tastes the
ashes and then is gone completely as the fire dies down.