The Great Hunt, the opening and closing
Jun. 27th, 2011 04:38 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
shelbyrouIt is currently 12:06 Pacific Time on Sun Jun 26 2011.
Currently the moon is in the waning Crescent (Theurge) Moon phase (30% full).
Center of the Caern
This is the central point of the 30-meter-wide clearing. The ground is a mixture of dark, rich, muddy soil mixed with clay, though there is an occasional patch of grass. At the center rests a large white boulder, immovable even by the strongest crinos. The boulder is shot through with streaks of quartz that produces scintillating colors when light strikes it just right. It is, for lack of a wholly adequate word, beautiful.
Around you, twenty yards in every direction, stretches the caern. To the southeast, a waterfall plummets over the edge of the chasm into a small pool in the caern; nearby, to the southwest, steam comes from cracks in the ground, perhaps some of the same water. Northwest, a rocky spar juts out of the ground at a low angle, showing a sloping but smooth top. The chasm walls narrow a bit to the northeast, causing some of the mist to swirl in that area.
Obvious exits:
Rock Slab Windy Spot WaterFall Steam Vents
As the sun approaches its zenith, Golden finishes his preparations for the Great Hunt: the boulder at the center of the Caern is now surrounded by a large ring of dried flowers and herbs, and his face is completely covered in ash. He carries in his right hand a bleached aspen staff carved with runes; they seem to have been darkened to a deep red brown with dyes and blood. Classic hunting sigils mix with the symbols of Helios in a complex spiral along its length. He tips his head back and howls, calling on the Sept to join him.
From Center of the Caern, Golden can be heard to howl, ~Garou of the Hidden Walk! Come to our Caern, and Hunt in the name of Helios!~
Hearing the call from the near the waterfall, Marcos heads toward the center of the Caern as instructed. Upon reaching it he stays along the outside edge, eyeing the Strider and the ring of flowers curiously.
Jacinta rises from here meditation in the place where the winds swirl and looks to the center. Her gaze falls on the staff and she studies it for a moment before circling to join him. As she goes, she glances to the Silver Fang as well and gives him a slight nod of her head.
An unfamiliar dark brown crinos with a bright green streak down his back and half his left ear missing accompanies On-Star as she leads the way into the caern. He is far more relaxed than On-star as she all but prances towards the prepared area.
The dire wolf form of Blood-Guard is perched lightly nearby, watching the ritual silently. The Gaian Warder seems to float inches above the ground so riveted with antipation is he, despite the bulk of his form. When the howl comes, it is an abruptly loud and forceful sound.
Falcon's Grace's already standing near the Strider in her war form, dried blood staining her silver fur in various glyphs: 'protection', 'Helios', and several others that aren't as easy to discern at the moment. She wears a strand object around her neck--a series of turtle shells--and carries a number of objects in her hands--crystals and several pieces of wood, it appears. As the ritualist howls, she throws her head back and howls to the sky.
Night's-Shadow, in crinos, has taken liberties to draw glyphs that just barely show up on his dark hide - protection, warding, cleansing. The Shadow Lord has a feather on a leather cord 'round his neck, and, really, he looks eager.
Shelby may have been haunting near the Caern, if not precisely within it: it doesn't take the Ragabash long to descend the rocky wall into the heart. Spotting Golden she shifts into Crinos before moving to stand near Marcos, dropping Night's-Shadow a nod along the way.
Bag-of-Snakes is prompt to arrive, already in crinos form when she lopes in, and looking as eager as anybody else there.
The Bone Gnawer Philodox that called herself, in a rather dry ironic tone, Judge Dredd, slumps toward the grouping of Garou. There don't appear to be any objects at all in her hands, just her stocky body. She howls, a harsh dischordant sound among the calls of the others.
Oath-Ring uncurls from where he has been lying beside the pool, staring into the falling water. The scarred Hispo shakes the spray from his coat, picks up what seem to be hoops of twig in his jaws, and pads heavily over towards the center stone.
Rat-Tale arrives some time later, trotting down the valley with the stink of the city all over her sandy coat.
The shaggy form of a certain grumpy Walker limps into the caern, in hispo. Fallout looks to each of the garou, but doesn't openly greet many aside from the Ritemaster himself. And August. Hmph.
Wildfire steps in from the treeline near the steam vents, having been not terribly far away at Golden's calling. Upon reaching the Caern proper, he shifts upward to the warform, his axe appearing now strapped to his back, and takes a moment to stratch before walking the rest of the way to the center.
Another garou to arrive smelling strongly of city is Speech-and-Silence, the Walker fostern appearing looking as if he's had a long run already, panting and tongue lolling over his sharp white teeth. He looks around to see who else is present at the gathering, poised and a little tense.
Golden watches the Garou file in from his position at the Western apex of the circle. As they come in, his eyes move between three in particular: Bag-of-Snakes, Blood-Guard, and Wildfire. He bends down and takes up a fore-arm length linen bundle at his feet, and with a look of resolution, aproaches August. ~Blood-Guard. This Hunt must be lead by a Full Moon. Will you, our Warder, lead them in the name of the Sun?~
Oath-Ring's ears twitch as he acknowledges those he knows in more than passing. He sits back on his haunches, shifting to the warform. As his belt appears, he takes one of his two knives, then takes a breath and sets his face. He starts to apply knife and teeth to his forearm, cutting away a slice of fur and, with it, the scar mapped into the flesh beneath.
Falcon's Grace's head turns toward her packmate, her posture straightening proudly when he is singled out. There is a knowing look in her eyes, as though she already knows something. Her hands shift slightly, moving the objects contained within them slightly.
On-Star's guest squats down and looks around taking note of all the new faces as as he messes with the small mint tin hidden in his furry paw. She greets the other Walkers and the Gnawer philodox as she notices them before turning back to watch Golden.
Marcos looks around as the garou, many of them unfamiliar file into the center of the Caern. As Shelby approaches he greets her with a friendly smile and nod and then promplty shifts into his crinos form. He bounces on his heels slightly, his body language telling of his eagerness.
Judge Dredd's eyes roam the front rank of Ahrouns, her expression impassive as she watches the proceedings.
Blood-Guard stands and faces Golden. ~Yes.~ He follows the Strider's gaze to Bag-of-Snakes and Wildfire, as well. Each get a slow nod - a very human gesture - with respect in the Gaian's agitated posture. ~Others will help me lead.~
Fallout sits, ears cocked back a fraction. The philodox watches the exchange with the ahroun, but his body language gives away little outside of general tension.
Bag-of-Snakes catches that look, and inclines her head in silent assent, her teeth gleaming as if in anticipation.
Night's-Shadow notes Shelby, and the Shadow Lord, having little else to do, wanders over towards her and Marcos, though his attention is snagged by the delegation of leadership, as well.
After some work with his knife, Oath-Ring resumes Hispo and collects a bloody mouthful of sliced fur and flesh and the hoops of twig. With these he pads over to Blood-Guard, and lays them at the Warder's feet.
Wildfire's countenance has fallen into stoney stoicism, aside from a from moment to suck on a tooth. He does, however, at the Warder's regard, raise his chin in assent as well.
Falcon's Gambit watches intently as the Strider approaches the Warder. She straightens, ears popping forward and teeth clicking eagerly, as he accepts. Something's murmured into Howls the Dawn's ear, only a few of the ideas conveyed by body language for any watching: choice, fire, water. (~If the choice comes, choose fire or earth, not air and water.~)
Golden holds up the bundle. ~This is a talen of Goshawk. She will help you to cleave the armor and wards of your enemies, but use her with care--she is a talen, and her strength will only last so long.~ He unwraps it, revealing a crude knife that seems more appropriate to a prehistoric era: a chipped obidian blade meets a scorched-wood handle, with a single, smooth riverstone embedded at the base. As he offers the knife, he explains, ~Give a prayer to Helios, who gives us life with his light and heat, and Garuda, who is the chariot of the Sun itself, and the Goshawk will give you her aid.~
There's not a lick of surprise on Falcon Grace's face at the revealing of the talen. She does cut her eyes toward Night's Shadow and Oath-Ring, a little curl of her mouth that exposes one of her fangs as she does.
Howls-the-Dawn leans over toward Falcon's Gambit his ear's cocking around in confusion as the Silver Fang Ahroun shifts his gaze to her seeking further details.
Judge Dredd's eyes widen at the talen but then she turns her attention to her fellow Garou, edging slightly toward her fellow urrah as he does.
~Each who wears one of the bands will be able to communicate in words and in images to the others wearing them, without speaking aloud,~ Oath-Ring says after listening to Golden's explanation with interest and glancing to Falcon's Grace with a touch of curiosity. He noses the four twig hoops which are about head-sized for a human. ~But they cannot reach across the Gauntlet. Those who take the glyphs of courage and score through them into their own flesh will be more able to face great danger and take great risks, but they will find it harder to act with caution and stealth. I give these three to you, to distribute as you see best.~ One scarred glyph remains to the Get, still scored into his bloodied foreleg.
On-Star sits on down and bumps against her friend and they mutter to each other for a moment. He looks back at the official stuff, but she perks her ears at Judge Dredd.
Fallout continues watching, remaining by himself. The longer he waits, however, the more the pent-up tension builds.
Night's-Shadow flicks an ear towards Shelby and Marcos, but the Shadow Lord catches Falcon's Grace's look, and he dips his muzzle in a scarce acknowledgment: he's impressed.
Catching sight of Night's-Shadow, Falcon's Gambit greets him, her manner subdued while the others are talking. She has but one ear on the Talen display, while the rest is for Howls the Dawn. Again she speaks quietly, but again a few words are visible: dream, choice, fire, water, spirit. (Falcon's Gambit is trying to keep most of her attention on Golden and the others, but Mother's Tongue requires some distraction. ~Our dreams,~ she says lowly, with a gesture toward the Shadow Lord. ~There may be a choice later. If there is, we think we should look to fire and earth, not air or water. That's what the spirits seem to be saying.~)
Blood-Guard shifts up to Crinos to accept the blade, taking it with both hands. He turns to Oath-Ring, looks at the hoops, and then turns to assess the gathered Garou. ~I thank you and I thank the spirits for your talens, Oath-Ring. The hoops increase... impulsivity, you said?~ he asks the Get.
~The hoops are for communication. Those wearing them can speak silently, or see an image of what the other sees, as long as the wearers are on the same side of the Gauntlet,~ the Get clarifies. ~The scar-talens do not cause a change in judgement, but make it easier to succeed in things that are dangerous and risky, and harder to succeed at those things that are cautious and safe.~
With the talen presented, Golden leaves Blood-Guard with a nod. He goes back to the ring of herbs and flowers, turning to face northwards along the circle's path, and raises his staff straight up. He stays this way for several heartbeats, and the heat of the day seems to mount in anticipation. Then he starts tomove, flowing into a martial dance that he's been seen performing bits and pieces of throughout the last two seasons. The staff is both a weapon and a partner in the dance; it swings with precision and grace through the moves with a life all its own. There's a cadence in the Ragabash's movements too, punctuated when he strikes the ring of flowers with the stave's end. A scent of crushed flowers begins to fill the Caern, stronger than would be expected, and the light of the sun presses down on one and all like a palpable weight.
Howls-the-Dawn looks away from Falcon's Gambit with only a slight nod of the head to acknowledge her. His gaze centers back on the elder Garou, particularly on the Strider as he begins his dance.
Falcon's Grace watches Golden closely but then moves among the gathered Garou. She stops to speak to Night's Shadow, Falcon's Gambit, Oath-Ring, Speech-And-Silence, and Wildfire. She speaks to each quietly, handing something over. When finished, she holds only one piece of water-soaked wood in her hands. (Falcon's Gambit receives a healing totem that neutralizes toxins.)
Wildfire, as the talens' uses are clarified, has reached down to a knifeless sheath strapped to his lower left leg, withdrawing from a side pouch there a small stone. Standing straight again, he draws a thumb-claw experimentally over it's surface, at least until Golden starts to perform once again. This grabs his fuller attention.
Night's-Shadow dips his head in a nod to Falcon's Grace as she approaches, and his claws close around an object as he murmers a low, barely audible 'thanks', and then his attention shifts to the Ritemaster.
Judge Dredd watches the activity with interest, staying quiet for the time being.
Speech-and-Silence accepts the moist wood from Falcon's Grace, turning it over and over in his huge hands as if trying to work out which way ought to be uppermost.
Falcon's Gambit's ears pop forward; she too thanks Falcon's Grace in a low voice before her attention returns to Golden's dance. Meanwhile, her claws close about the small bit of wood.
On-Star gets a bit distracted from Golden's dance by the Fang Elder's activity, but once she finishes up she's looking back up along with her guest.
Wildfire does break his gaze from Golden long enough to thank the Ritemistress.
Rat-Tale sits back with her long tail swishing to and fro over the ground, tongue lolling out, watching the show with evident enjoyment.
Oath-Ring watches the Warder until he's sure that there are no further questions, and gravely accepts what Falcon's Grace passes to him with a dipped head of thanks. He moves back from the center of organisation, remaining standing to watch Golden performing the ritual, with the solemn air of appreciation as of one skilled professional watching another.
Blood-Guard takes the talens with a bow, and silently distributes the talens: the hoops are given to Bag-of-Snakes, Wildfire and Fallout, with him keeping one, and through the lupine body language the Warder singles out Tempest's Wake, along with Bag-of-Snakes and Wildfire, for the scar tattoos. That done, the Gaian turns to give Golden his full attention as the flower scent grows.
The dance around the ring continues, and the whole of the center of the Caern begins to feel heavy and thick. Just as the sun touches the top of the sky, Golden brings the staff down on the Southern point of the ring, and something changes. Tendrils of heat and air pull away from every Garou present and spiral together, drawn up as if by an unseen hand to form a translucent tunnel centered on the boulder, whose Pathstone has begun to glow with a brilliant, eye-searing white light. Golden hasn't stopped; in fact he didn't even pause in the move that brought this about, and looks lost in his dance. Each swing of the staff adds another rippling, glass-like filament, and then the dance changes pace, slowing and guiding the sunbridge down until it arcs out of the Caern and over the Eastern horizon. The Pathstone and boulder are keystones, with the bridge forming a gentle slope over them. Down the throat of the path, their destination glitters with nighttime stars. On one pass that brings him into eye-contact with Blood-Guard, Golden meet's the Warder's gaze, and comes back to himself just long enough to flick his eyes at the bridge. Then he's moving through the dance again.
[People take the sunbridge, which leads to the battle. When they return, it is near sunset:
Center of the Caern
Falcon's Gambit crouches beside Tim's unconscious body, her head, neck, and shoulders sliced and bloody. She looks exhausted, yet pleased for all that.
Bag-of-Snakes comes back into the caern, still in Crinos, bloody clawmarks across her chest. She's walking slowly and deliberately. Only when she arrives at the caern stone itself and touches it does she seem to relax, and close her eyes a few seconds.
On-Star staggers around on, holding on to Blood-Sucker's shoulder until he sets her down on the grass. He then goes over to look over the Strider, ignoring his bug bites.
Looking as though she'd been tossed into a splinter tornado, Zosia is sliding down into her birthform as she trots off the sunbridge. The theurge seems decidedly satisfied, if exhausted, exchanging a word with her packmate before the warder wanders off.
Judge Dredd grunts. ~I need a cigarette.~ The Gnawer shifts into lupus and lopes off out of the caern toward the bawn edge.
Wildfire arrives with the rest of his 'half' of the warparty, in the warform, a tree branch about the size of a regular person's forearm sticking out of his back even though he pays it no mind. He looks the place over briefly for any dead, his eyes still filled with unspent rage.
Howls-the-Dawn stumps along in Wildfire's wake with the rest of their group. His movements are forced and each bringing a wince. Upon closer inspection, splinters of wood, some quite large can be seen protruding from his flesh in vast quantities. He sinks into his homid form and begins to remove some of the splinters, growling as he does so with the larger pieces.
Speech-and-Silence is also with Wildfire, hovering about somewhere off his rear starboard quarter looking worried at that new body piercing the Get is sporting.
Night's-Shadow looks like a porcupine. He limps, in lupus, and seems restless and sore, but pleased. He's stuck full of splinters, some large and some small, and even one of his ears is stuck through with one. Still, he limps over to Shelby and gingerly noses her.
Falcon's Gambit pushes up to her feet as Zosia arrives. She calls out something in a language neither Mother's Tongue nor English, catches herself, and drops back to homid. She doesn't look much better in this form, covered in insect stings and gashes. "Zosia-rhya," she tries again, not leaving her spot near the unconscious Strider. ("You made it!")
The Silver Fang elder answers in that same quick language as she start to pick out some of the chunks of wood imbedded in her. Looking past the ragabash, she raises a brow. "Where were you guys?" (As did you!)
Wildfire eyes the Fangs speaking in a new language for a brief moment, before pacing over to his tribesmate by the Caern's heart, muttering something under his breath about it being at the Story Tree after all. There, her just pauses to look her over.
Night's-Shadow, letting those two talk, begins pulling splinters out of his hide, methodically yanking them out and spitting them free.
~Oh do hold still, will you --~ fusses Speech-and-Silence to Wildfire as they make it into the heart of the caern. When the Get pauses for a second, the Glass Walker manages to seize the end of the stick and give it a tug, trying to pull it out of Wildfire's body with one hand while holding his own stick -- the healing talen he still carries -- in the other.
"The Umbra," Shelby says with a tired smile. "Helping a caern with two totem spirits, one of which had been turned to the Wyrm by a smiling man. Stop me when you've heard this one."
The Ahroun Silver Fang glances around the clearing as he continues to pull splinters from his body, taking a quick head count. His gaze rests on Solsiva, taking stock of her injuries before moving on to the others. He growls as he pulls a particularly large sliver of wood from the joint of his shoulder.
On-Star calls over to her friend who shrugs and walks back over. After putting their heads together for a moment they both go into homid. He's an older fellow on the ugly side with a mostly bald head with a few valiant gray hairs. He's actually wearing a rather expensive looking business suit. Sol hauls herself up with his help and they make their way out.
"He was a mage," Zosia says before crouching beside Xander and tugging on some of the bigger pieces if the Shadow Lord lets her. "We weren't in the umbra. We were on the other side." She might have said more but then she looks up to see Kevin and stops breathing for a moment.
Night's-Shadow not only lets her, but encourages it with a tired huff of thanks. Meanwhile, the bloody lupus grumbles, dirty stinking worldbender trash. Grump.
Shelby says, "Sorry," as though she'd just now noticed the Lord and starts performing the same splinter-removing duty. "I don't suppose," she continues to both of them, "your side of things involved misprinted biology textbooks?"
Wildfire sways a bit in his stance as Speech-and-Silence yanks the offending tree-limb from out of his back, causing the Get to look sharply up, not expecting anything of the sort. But that is all. No fury spills out of him. In fact, it looks more like he's more put out by being jostled than anything else. He cranes his neck to look at the Glass Walker. ~Something worthy of actually wounding me. Either burn it or turn it into a fetish.~
Speech-and-Silence now has a chunk of wood in either hand, and he looks from one to the other, thought making his ugly crinos brow furrow. ~That's a thought...~
Marcos watches the proceedings of the caern for a moment or two, but finally he turns and walks from the clearing without a word.
"Talen, perhaps. Chunks of wood soaked in blood?" Zosia can breathe now so calls out some possibilities. "Quite a few spirits would find that worthy."
Night's-Shadow grunts. No such luck, he replies, watching Owen for a moment. Only the namebreaker warping minds and the world.
Speech-and-Silence drops down into glabro when Zosia speaks, the better to talk to her. "You think? You're the spirit expert. Can I talk to you about it when the dust's settled? Also -- still got this one --" He brandishes the other piece of wood, the one that is already imbued with a spirit. "Had we ought to let the spirit go, or will it be okay in there for a while?"
~My blood. Of course its worthy,~ Wildfire states as though it should be obvious. He then leans forward where he is near his tribesmate and looks her square in the face.
"Too bad," the Fang Ragabash says lightly, one eye on the Get goings-on. "Looks like your dreams were more usefully prophetic than mine."
Bag-of-Snakes turns to look back at Wildfire, finally detaching herself from the Caern stone to which she's been attached for the last five minutes or so. ~You return safe,~ she says quietly.
Zosia holds out a hand to Kevin, pausing in her efforts. "We will release all the sprits from my talens tonight. These were only for the Hunt. I owe them immediate release." She glances round the caern, her lips pursed. "No deaths?"
Night's-Shadow gestures to the talen hanging 'round his neck. Mine need to be released as well. He pauses, then looks to the ragabash. Ours had river that flowed backwards for a moment.
"Don't think so. None of ours, anyway. This one guy blew up," Kevin replies to Zosia, offering her the the piece of wood without Owen's blood all over it.
Wildfire looks fine except for an incidental tree-wound. He looks FAR from pleased however, as he continues to lean forward to his tribesmate, his words half-coughed, half-growled out. ~Ich kam fur einen Kampf. I am unsatisfied.~
"No one died from our group," Shelby acknowledges, looking around the caern. "We had Bag-of-Snakes, Jack, Camille, that other Walker Philodox, and some Fostern Ragabash friend of hers." She pauses before offering a lopsided smile. "Technically you could say I killed the tainted Uktena who was twisting all the spirits."
Bag-of-Snakes lifts a hand, rubs her brow, and looks Wildfire in the eye. ~In what way are you not satisfied, warrior?~ she asks him. Her tone is polite and restrained, but a tenseness is creeping back into her.
"We found a dead body on the way to the place," Zosia says sadly. It is distracted, however, as she eyes the Get. She says something to Shelby in a rapid flow of something vaguely slavic before returning to pulling things out of Xander. (This could well go very badly--be alert.)
Night's-Shadow looks at Owen as though he's grown an extra three heads. Why? The hunt was successful.
Wildfire clenshes his fists, pent-up rage still apparently coursing through him. He doesn't appear to have seen Night's-Shadow's comment. ~Burn it out of me. Do not let me become the next Thunder-Eater.~
Bag-of-Snakes rubs her brow again. ~I will not set fire to you, Wildfire. But I will fight you until you are too tired to move, if that is what you need. We should not fight here, though; not in the Caern's heart, not on this night. Let us find a quieter place where we can pound away to our hearts' content.~
"Anyone we know?" Shelby shakes off the question as soon as she's asked it, pulls one last splinter from Night's-Shadow's flank and stands. "I'm going to go check on something, but I think I'm going to sleep here tonight. I'll get the story from you later." She heads unsteadily for the waterfall path, remembering to shift into lupus only after she's achieved the top.
Zosia watches after the departed Ragabash then looks down to Xander. "Come. We'll get these wood chunks out and release these spirits." She glances at the Get once more, nodding politely, before starting to head out.
Night's-Shadow flicks an ear in agreement, and then lifts himself to his feet, giving the Get a final glance before following the Fang elder on out.
Wildfire is becoming increasingly agitated, the effects of a Gift apparently beginning to abate. ~You should be running...~ is his only reply.
~Then run I shall!~ snaps back the Jarl, and she takes off at a fair canter away from the caern -- and in the other direction from Zosia and Xander.
Wildfire holds back, letting distance separate himself from his tribesmate. The rest of those here get an awkward look from him, partly apologetic, partly murderous, before he charges after, sipping down into hispo as he does.
And so only Kevin is left at the caern's heart as the Get charge off to fight and Zosia takes Xander away to deal with his injuries. The Glass Walker remains in hispo, as he carefully leans the wood he removed from Owen against the caern stone, and begins to pick splinters out of his body while waiting for the imminent sunrise. Oddly enough, he looks quite content as he does so.
Currently the moon is in the waning Crescent (Theurge) Moon phase (30% full).
Center of the Caern
This is the central point of the 30-meter-wide clearing. The ground is a mixture of dark, rich, muddy soil mixed with clay, though there is an occasional patch of grass. At the center rests a large white boulder, immovable even by the strongest crinos. The boulder is shot through with streaks of quartz that produces scintillating colors when light strikes it just right. It is, for lack of a wholly adequate word, beautiful.
Around you, twenty yards in every direction, stretches the caern. To the southeast, a waterfall plummets over the edge of the chasm into a small pool in the caern; nearby, to the southwest, steam comes from cracks in the ground, perhaps some of the same water. Northwest, a rocky spar juts out of the ground at a low angle, showing a sloping but smooth top. The chasm walls narrow a bit to the northeast, causing some of the mist to swirl in that area.
Obvious exits:
Rock Slab Windy Spot WaterFall Steam Vents
As the sun approaches its zenith, Golden finishes his preparations for the Great Hunt: the boulder at the center of the Caern is now surrounded by a large ring of dried flowers and herbs, and his face is completely covered in ash. He carries in his right hand a bleached aspen staff carved with runes; they seem to have been darkened to a deep red brown with dyes and blood. Classic hunting sigils mix with the symbols of Helios in a complex spiral along its length. He tips his head back and howls, calling on the Sept to join him.
From Center of the Caern, Golden can be heard to howl, ~Garou of the Hidden Walk! Come to our Caern, and Hunt in the name of Helios!~
Hearing the call from the near the waterfall, Marcos heads toward the center of the Caern as instructed. Upon reaching it he stays along the outside edge, eyeing the Strider and the ring of flowers curiously.
Jacinta rises from here meditation in the place where the winds swirl and looks to the center. Her gaze falls on the staff and she studies it for a moment before circling to join him. As she goes, she glances to the Silver Fang as well and gives him a slight nod of her head.
An unfamiliar dark brown crinos with a bright green streak down his back and half his left ear missing accompanies On-Star as she leads the way into the caern. He is far more relaxed than On-star as she all but prances towards the prepared area.
The dire wolf form of Blood-Guard is perched lightly nearby, watching the ritual silently. The Gaian Warder seems to float inches above the ground so riveted with antipation is he, despite the bulk of his form. When the howl comes, it is an abruptly loud and forceful sound.
Falcon's Grace's already standing near the Strider in her war form, dried blood staining her silver fur in various glyphs: 'protection', 'Helios', and several others that aren't as easy to discern at the moment. She wears a strand object around her neck--a series of turtle shells--and carries a number of objects in her hands--crystals and several pieces of wood, it appears. As the ritualist howls, she throws her head back and howls to the sky.
Night's-Shadow, in crinos, has taken liberties to draw glyphs that just barely show up on his dark hide - protection, warding, cleansing. The Shadow Lord has a feather on a leather cord 'round his neck, and, really, he looks eager.
Shelby may have been haunting near the Caern, if not precisely within it: it doesn't take the Ragabash long to descend the rocky wall into the heart. Spotting Golden she shifts into Crinos before moving to stand near Marcos, dropping Night's-Shadow a nod along the way.
Bag-of-Snakes is prompt to arrive, already in crinos form when she lopes in, and looking as eager as anybody else there.
The Bone Gnawer Philodox that called herself, in a rather dry ironic tone, Judge Dredd, slumps toward the grouping of Garou. There don't appear to be any objects at all in her hands, just her stocky body. She howls, a harsh dischordant sound among the calls of the others.
Oath-Ring uncurls from where he has been lying beside the pool, staring into the falling water. The scarred Hispo shakes the spray from his coat, picks up what seem to be hoops of twig in his jaws, and pads heavily over towards the center stone.
Rat-Tale arrives some time later, trotting down the valley with the stink of the city all over her sandy coat.
The shaggy form of a certain grumpy Walker limps into the caern, in hispo. Fallout looks to each of the garou, but doesn't openly greet many aside from the Ritemaster himself. And August. Hmph.
Wildfire steps in from the treeline near the steam vents, having been not terribly far away at Golden's calling. Upon reaching the Caern proper, he shifts upward to the warform, his axe appearing now strapped to his back, and takes a moment to stratch before walking the rest of the way to the center.
Another garou to arrive smelling strongly of city is Speech-and-Silence, the Walker fostern appearing looking as if he's had a long run already, panting and tongue lolling over his sharp white teeth. He looks around to see who else is present at the gathering, poised and a little tense.
Golden watches the Garou file in from his position at the Western apex of the circle. As they come in, his eyes move between three in particular: Bag-of-Snakes, Blood-Guard, and Wildfire. He bends down and takes up a fore-arm length linen bundle at his feet, and with a look of resolution, aproaches August. ~Blood-Guard. This Hunt must be lead by a Full Moon. Will you, our Warder, lead them in the name of the Sun?~
Oath-Ring's ears twitch as he acknowledges those he knows in more than passing. He sits back on his haunches, shifting to the warform. As his belt appears, he takes one of his two knives, then takes a breath and sets his face. He starts to apply knife and teeth to his forearm, cutting away a slice of fur and, with it, the scar mapped into the flesh beneath.
Falcon's Grace's head turns toward her packmate, her posture straightening proudly when he is singled out. There is a knowing look in her eyes, as though she already knows something. Her hands shift slightly, moving the objects contained within them slightly.
On-Star's guest squats down and looks around taking note of all the new faces as as he messes with the small mint tin hidden in his furry paw. She greets the other Walkers and the Gnawer philodox as she notices them before turning back to watch Golden.
Marcos looks around as the garou, many of them unfamiliar file into the center of the Caern. As Shelby approaches he greets her with a friendly smile and nod and then promplty shifts into his crinos form. He bounces on his heels slightly, his body language telling of his eagerness.
Judge Dredd's eyes roam the front rank of Ahrouns, her expression impassive as she watches the proceedings.
Blood-Guard stands and faces Golden. ~Yes.~ He follows the Strider's gaze to Bag-of-Snakes and Wildfire, as well. Each get a slow nod - a very human gesture - with respect in the Gaian's agitated posture. ~Others will help me lead.~
Fallout sits, ears cocked back a fraction. The philodox watches the exchange with the ahroun, but his body language gives away little outside of general tension.
Bag-of-Snakes catches that look, and inclines her head in silent assent, her teeth gleaming as if in anticipation.
Night's-Shadow notes Shelby, and the Shadow Lord, having little else to do, wanders over towards her and Marcos, though his attention is snagged by the delegation of leadership, as well.
After some work with his knife, Oath-Ring resumes Hispo and collects a bloody mouthful of sliced fur and flesh and the hoops of twig. With these he pads over to Blood-Guard, and lays them at the Warder's feet.
Wildfire's countenance has fallen into stoney stoicism, aside from a from moment to suck on a tooth. He does, however, at the Warder's regard, raise his chin in assent as well.
Falcon's Gambit watches intently as the Strider approaches the Warder. She straightens, ears popping forward and teeth clicking eagerly, as he accepts. Something's murmured into Howls the Dawn's ear, only a few of the ideas conveyed by body language for any watching: choice, fire, water. (~If the choice comes, choose fire or earth, not air and water.~)
Golden holds up the bundle. ~This is a talen of Goshawk. She will help you to cleave the armor and wards of your enemies, but use her with care--she is a talen, and her strength will only last so long.~ He unwraps it, revealing a crude knife that seems more appropriate to a prehistoric era: a chipped obidian blade meets a scorched-wood handle, with a single, smooth riverstone embedded at the base. As he offers the knife, he explains, ~Give a prayer to Helios, who gives us life with his light and heat, and Garuda, who is the chariot of the Sun itself, and the Goshawk will give you her aid.~
There's not a lick of surprise on Falcon Grace's face at the revealing of the talen. She does cut her eyes toward Night's Shadow and Oath-Ring, a little curl of her mouth that exposes one of her fangs as she does.
Howls-the-Dawn leans over toward Falcon's Gambit his ear's cocking around in confusion as the Silver Fang Ahroun shifts his gaze to her seeking further details.
Judge Dredd's eyes widen at the talen but then she turns her attention to her fellow Garou, edging slightly toward her fellow urrah as he does.
~Each who wears one of the bands will be able to communicate in words and in images to the others wearing them, without speaking aloud,~ Oath-Ring says after listening to Golden's explanation with interest and glancing to Falcon's Grace with a touch of curiosity. He noses the four twig hoops which are about head-sized for a human. ~But they cannot reach across the Gauntlet. Those who take the glyphs of courage and score through them into their own flesh will be more able to face great danger and take great risks, but they will find it harder to act with caution and stealth. I give these three to you, to distribute as you see best.~ One scarred glyph remains to the Get, still scored into his bloodied foreleg.
On-Star sits on down and bumps against her friend and they mutter to each other for a moment. He looks back at the official stuff, but she perks her ears at Judge Dredd.
Fallout continues watching, remaining by himself. The longer he waits, however, the more the pent-up tension builds.
Night's-Shadow flicks an ear towards Shelby and Marcos, but the Shadow Lord catches Falcon's Grace's look, and he dips his muzzle in a scarce acknowledgment: he's impressed.
Catching sight of Night's-Shadow, Falcon's Gambit greets him, her manner subdued while the others are talking. She has but one ear on the Talen display, while the rest is for Howls the Dawn. Again she speaks quietly, but again a few words are visible: dream, choice, fire, water, spirit. (Falcon's Gambit is trying to keep most of her attention on Golden and the others, but Mother's Tongue requires some distraction. ~Our dreams,~ she says lowly, with a gesture toward the Shadow Lord. ~There may be a choice later. If there is, we think we should look to fire and earth, not air or water. That's what the spirits seem to be saying.~)
Blood-Guard shifts up to Crinos to accept the blade, taking it with both hands. He turns to Oath-Ring, looks at the hoops, and then turns to assess the gathered Garou. ~I thank you and I thank the spirits for your talens, Oath-Ring. The hoops increase... impulsivity, you said?~ he asks the Get.
~The hoops are for communication. Those wearing them can speak silently, or see an image of what the other sees, as long as the wearers are on the same side of the Gauntlet,~ the Get clarifies. ~The scar-talens do not cause a change in judgement, but make it easier to succeed in things that are dangerous and risky, and harder to succeed at those things that are cautious and safe.~
With the talen presented, Golden leaves Blood-Guard with a nod. He goes back to the ring of herbs and flowers, turning to face northwards along the circle's path, and raises his staff straight up. He stays this way for several heartbeats, and the heat of the day seems to mount in anticipation. Then he starts tomove, flowing into a martial dance that he's been seen performing bits and pieces of throughout the last two seasons. The staff is both a weapon and a partner in the dance; it swings with precision and grace through the moves with a life all its own. There's a cadence in the Ragabash's movements too, punctuated when he strikes the ring of flowers with the stave's end. A scent of crushed flowers begins to fill the Caern, stronger than would be expected, and the light of the sun presses down on one and all like a palpable weight.
Howls-the-Dawn looks away from Falcon's Gambit with only a slight nod of the head to acknowledge her. His gaze centers back on the elder Garou, particularly on the Strider as he begins his dance.
Falcon's Grace watches Golden closely but then moves among the gathered Garou. She stops to speak to Night's Shadow, Falcon's Gambit, Oath-Ring, Speech-And-Silence, and Wildfire. She speaks to each quietly, handing something over. When finished, she holds only one piece of water-soaked wood in her hands. (Falcon's Gambit receives a healing totem that neutralizes toxins.)
Wildfire, as the talens' uses are clarified, has reached down to a knifeless sheath strapped to his lower left leg, withdrawing from a side pouch there a small stone. Standing straight again, he draws a thumb-claw experimentally over it's surface, at least until Golden starts to perform once again. This grabs his fuller attention.
Night's-Shadow dips his head in a nod to Falcon's Grace as she approaches, and his claws close around an object as he murmers a low, barely audible 'thanks', and then his attention shifts to the Ritemaster.
Judge Dredd watches the activity with interest, staying quiet for the time being.
Speech-and-Silence accepts the moist wood from Falcon's Grace, turning it over and over in his huge hands as if trying to work out which way ought to be uppermost.
Falcon's Gambit's ears pop forward; she too thanks Falcon's Grace in a low voice before her attention returns to Golden's dance. Meanwhile, her claws close about the small bit of wood.
On-Star gets a bit distracted from Golden's dance by the Fang Elder's activity, but once she finishes up she's looking back up along with her guest.
Wildfire does break his gaze from Golden long enough to thank the Ritemistress.
Rat-Tale sits back with her long tail swishing to and fro over the ground, tongue lolling out, watching the show with evident enjoyment.
Oath-Ring watches the Warder until he's sure that there are no further questions, and gravely accepts what Falcon's Grace passes to him with a dipped head of thanks. He moves back from the center of organisation, remaining standing to watch Golden performing the ritual, with the solemn air of appreciation as of one skilled professional watching another.
Blood-Guard takes the talens with a bow, and silently distributes the talens: the hoops are given to Bag-of-Snakes, Wildfire and Fallout, with him keeping one, and through the lupine body language the Warder singles out Tempest's Wake, along with Bag-of-Snakes and Wildfire, for the scar tattoos. That done, the Gaian turns to give Golden his full attention as the flower scent grows.
The dance around the ring continues, and the whole of the center of the Caern begins to feel heavy and thick. Just as the sun touches the top of the sky, Golden brings the staff down on the Southern point of the ring, and something changes. Tendrils of heat and air pull away from every Garou present and spiral together, drawn up as if by an unseen hand to form a translucent tunnel centered on the boulder, whose Pathstone has begun to glow with a brilliant, eye-searing white light. Golden hasn't stopped; in fact he didn't even pause in the move that brought this about, and looks lost in his dance. Each swing of the staff adds another rippling, glass-like filament, and then the dance changes pace, slowing and guiding the sunbridge down until it arcs out of the Caern and over the Eastern horizon. The Pathstone and boulder are keystones, with the bridge forming a gentle slope over them. Down the throat of the path, their destination glitters with nighttime stars. On one pass that brings him into eye-contact with Blood-Guard, Golden meet's the Warder's gaze, and comes back to himself just long enough to flick his eyes at the bridge. Then he's moving through the dance again.
[People take the sunbridge, which leads to the battle. When they return, it is near sunset:
Center of the Caern
Falcon's Gambit crouches beside Tim's unconscious body, her head, neck, and shoulders sliced and bloody. She looks exhausted, yet pleased for all that.
Bag-of-Snakes comes back into the caern, still in Crinos, bloody clawmarks across her chest. She's walking slowly and deliberately. Only when she arrives at the caern stone itself and touches it does she seem to relax, and close her eyes a few seconds.
On-Star staggers around on, holding on to Blood-Sucker's shoulder until he sets her down on the grass. He then goes over to look over the Strider, ignoring his bug bites.
Looking as though she'd been tossed into a splinter tornado, Zosia is sliding down into her birthform as she trots off the sunbridge. The theurge seems decidedly satisfied, if exhausted, exchanging a word with her packmate before the warder wanders off.
Judge Dredd grunts. ~I need a cigarette.~ The Gnawer shifts into lupus and lopes off out of the caern toward the bawn edge.
Wildfire arrives with the rest of his 'half' of the warparty, in the warform, a tree branch about the size of a regular person's forearm sticking out of his back even though he pays it no mind. He looks the place over briefly for any dead, his eyes still filled with unspent rage.
Howls-the-Dawn stumps along in Wildfire's wake with the rest of their group. His movements are forced and each bringing a wince. Upon closer inspection, splinters of wood, some quite large can be seen protruding from his flesh in vast quantities. He sinks into his homid form and begins to remove some of the splinters, growling as he does so with the larger pieces.
Speech-and-Silence is also with Wildfire, hovering about somewhere off his rear starboard quarter looking worried at that new body piercing the Get is sporting.
Night's-Shadow looks like a porcupine. He limps, in lupus, and seems restless and sore, but pleased. He's stuck full of splinters, some large and some small, and even one of his ears is stuck through with one. Still, he limps over to Shelby and gingerly noses her.
Falcon's Gambit pushes up to her feet as Zosia arrives. She calls out something in a language neither Mother's Tongue nor English, catches herself, and drops back to homid. She doesn't look much better in this form, covered in insect stings and gashes. "Zosia-rhya," she tries again, not leaving her spot near the unconscious Strider. ("You made it!")
The Silver Fang elder answers in that same quick language as she start to pick out some of the chunks of wood imbedded in her. Looking past the ragabash, she raises a brow. "Where were you guys?" (As did you!)
Wildfire eyes the Fangs speaking in a new language for a brief moment, before pacing over to his tribesmate by the Caern's heart, muttering something under his breath about it being at the Story Tree after all. There, her just pauses to look her over.
Night's-Shadow, letting those two talk, begins pulling splinters out of his hide, methodically yanking them out and spitting them free.
~Oh do hold still, will you --~ fusses Speech-and-Silence to Wildfire as they make it into the heart of the caern. When the Get pauses for a second, the Glass Walker manages to seize the end of the stick and give it a tug, trying to pull it out of Wildfire's body with one hand while holding his own stick -- the healing talen he still carries -- in the other.
"The Umbra," Shelby says with a tired smile. "Helping a caern with two totem spirits, one of which had been turned to the Wyrm by a smiling man. Stop me when you've heard this one."
The Ahroun Silver Fang glances around the clearing as he continues to pull splinters from his body, taking a quick head count. His gaze rests on Solsiva, taking stock of her injuries before moving on to the others. He growls as he pulls a particularly large sliver of wood from the joint of his shoulder.
On-Star calls over to her friend who shrugs and walks back over. After putting their heads together for a moment they both go into homid. He's an older fellow on the ugly side with a mostly bald head with a few valiant gray hairs. He's actually wearing a rather expensive looking business suit. Sol hauls herself up with his help and they make their way out.
"He was a mage," Zosia says before crouching beside Xander and tugging on some of the bigger pieces if the Shadow Lord lets her. "We weren't in the umbra. We were on the other side." She might have said more but then she looks up to see Kevin and stops breathing for a moment.
Night's-Shadow not only lets her, but encourages it with a tired huff of thanks. Meanwhile, the bloody lupus grumbles, dirty stinking worldbender trash. Grump.
Shelby says, "Sorry," as though she'd just now noticed the Lord and starts performing the same splinter-removing duty. "I don't suppose," she continues to both of them, "your side of things involved misprinted biology textbooks?"
Wildfire sways a bit in his stance as Speech-and-Silence yanks the offending tree-limb from out of his back, causing the Get to look sharply up, not expecting anything of the sort. But that is all. No fury spills out of him. In fact, it looks more like he's more put out by being jostled than anything else. He cranes his neck to look at the Glass Walker. ~Something worthy of actually wounding me. Either burn it or turn it into a fetish.~
Speech-and-Silence now has a chunk of wood in either hand, and he looks from one to the other, thought making his ugly crinos brow furrow. ~That's a thought...~
Marcos watches the proceedings of the caern for a moment or two, but finally he turns and walks from the clearing without a word.
"Talen, perhaps. Chunks of wood soaked in blood?" Zosia can breathe now so calls out some possibilities. "Quite a few spirits would find that worthy."
Night's-Shadow grunts. No such luck, he replies, watching Owen for a moment. Only the namebreaker warping minds and the world.
Speech-and-Silence drops down into glabro when Zosia speaks, the better to talk to her. "You think? You're the spirit expert. Can I talk to you about it when the dust's settled? Also -- still got this one --" He brandishes the other piece of wood, the one that is already imbued with a spirit. "Had we ought to let the spirit go, or will it be okay in there for a while?"
~My blood. Of course its worthy,~ Wildfire states as though it should be obvious. He then leans forward where he is near his tribesmate and looks her square in the face.
"Too bad," the Fang Ragabash says lightly, one eye on the Get goings-on. "Looks like your dreams were more usefully prophetic than mine."
Bag-of-Snakes turns to look back at Wildfire, finally detaching herself from the Caern stone to which she's been attached for the last five minutes or so. ~You return safe,~ she says quietly.
Zosia holds out a hand to Kevin, pausing in her efforts. "We will release all the sprits from my talens tonight. These were only for the Hunt. I owe them immediate release." She glances round the caern, her lips pursed. "No deaths?"
Night's-Shadow gestures to the talen hanging 'round his neck. Mine need to be released as well. He pauses, then looks to the ragabash. Ours had river that flowed backwards for a moment.
"Don't think so. None of ours, anyway. This one guy blew up," Kevin replies to Zosia, offering her the the piece of wood without Owen's blood all over it.
Wildfire looks fine except for an incidental tree-wound. He looks FAR from pleased however, as he continues to lean forward to his tribesmate, his words half-coughed, half-growled out. ~Ich kam fur einen Kampf. I am unsatisfied.~
"No one died from our group," Shelby acknowledges, looking around the caern. "We had Bag-of-Snakes, Jack, Camille, that other Walker Philodox, and some Fostern Ragabash friend of hers." She pauses before offering a lopsided smile. "Technically you could say I killed the tainted Uktena who was twisting all the spirits."
Bag-of-Snakes lifts a hand, rubs her brow, and looks Wildfire in the eye. ~In what way are you not satisfied, warrior?~ she asks him. Her tone is polite and restrained, but a tenseness is creeping back into her.
"We found a dead body on the way to the place," Zosia says sadly. It is distracted, however, as she eyes the Get. She says something to Shelby in a rapid flow of something vaguely slavic before returning to pulling things out of Xander. (This could well go very badly--be alert.)
Night's-Shadow looks at Owen as though he's grown an extra three heads. Why? The hunt was successful.
Wildfire clenshes his fists, pent-up rage still apparently coursing through him. He doesn't appear to have seen Night's-Shadow's comment. ~Burn it out of me. Do not let me become the next Thunder-Eater.~
Bag-of-Snakes rubs her brow again. ~I will not set fire to you, Wildfire. But I will fight you until you are too tired to move, if that is what you need. We should not fight here, though; not in the Caern's heart, not on this night. Let us find a quieter place where we can pound away to our hearts' content.~
"Anyone we know?" Shelby shakes off the question as soon as she's asked it, pulls one last splinter from Night's-Shadow's flank and stands. "I'm going to go check on something, but I think I'm going to sleep here tonight. I'll get the story from you later." She heads unsteadily for the waterfall path, remembering to shift into lupus only after she's achieved the top.
Zosia watches after the departed Ragabash then looks down to Xander. "Come. We'll get these wood chunks out and release these spirits." She glances at the Get once more, nodding politely, before starting to head out.
Night's-Shadow flicks an ear in agreement, and then lifts himself to his feet, giving the Get a final glance before following the Fang elder on out.
Wildfire is becoming increasingly agitated, the effects of a Gift apparently beginning to abate. ~You should be running...~ is his only reply.
~Then run I shall!~ snaps back the Jarl, and she takes off at a fair canter away from the caern -- and in the other direction from Zosia and Xander.
Wildfire holds back, letting distance separate himself from his tribesmate. The rest of those here get an awkward look from him, partly apologetic, partly murderous, before he charges after, sipping down into hispo as he does.
And so only Kevin is left at the caern's heart as the Get charge off to fight and Zosia takes Xander away to deal with his injuries. The Glass Walker remains in hispo, as he carefully leans the wood he removed from Owen against the caern stone, and begins to pick splinters out of his body while waiting for the imminent sunrise. Oddly enough, he looks quite content as he does so.