It is currently 17:47 Pacific Time on Wed May 14 2003.

Currently in Saint Claire, it is partly sunny. The temperature is 55 degrees Fahrenheit (12 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from variable directions at 7 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 29.83 and falling, and the relative humidity is 63 percent. The dewpoint is 43 degrees Fahrenheit (6 degrees Celsius.)

Currently the moon is in the waxing Full Moon phase (91% full).

Center of the Caern

This area of the clearing is about 30 meters wide and is a mixture of dark soil and clay throughout. The ground is mostly mud, but patches of grass, halted by winter's cold, are beginning to peek through the ground and take root. Near the center of the clearing, a small cairn has been built with white stone and quartz--what was left of the beautiful boulder that was once there. None of the stones is bigger than a softball.

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.

Eamon grins and waves to the gathering garou. "Yo."

Tempered-Blade wanders down the path and settles herself in an somewhat out of the way corner.

Salem shifts up from lupus as he arrives and takes a place in the center. As usual, the Walker is quiet and seems pensive.

Renee makes her way into the Caern, a heavily stuffed knapsack thrown over one shoulder.

Sheeaghan comes into the caern, looking as sober as ever. The young Fianna looks a bit calmer than she has in the past month or two, her tail even showing this with a gentle sway at her haunches. She greets those around her with a welcoming chuff in a way of greeting.

Fixes-Stuff lopes through the steam rising from the vents, chuffing quietly to announce his presence and make sure nobody thought he was sneaking up.

Renee setting her bag down and rubbing at one shoulder, the Galliard waves at Fixes-Stuff. "Yo bro. Get yer tail over here!"

Quentin trots along down towards the caern's heart alone, fingers raking back through blue hair as he keeps near the outskirts of the area; leaning against a tree, arms folding over his chest as he watches and waits.

Touch Deer accompanies his Alpha, Andrea, down the northwest trail and into the Caern's center. He makes a beeline towards his other packmate, Temered-Blade, a medium-sized wooden warclub bouncing against his hip.

Fixes-Stuff trots over towards Renee, bunting his head against her once close enough in a fairly typical lupine greeting. Chuffing a hello, he then promptly flops down at her feet, panting languidly.

Layne arrives by way of the steam vents, trailing leisurely toward the growing crowd. The Fianna spots her golden-eyed tribesmate and makes a bee-line for the wolf, dipping down to push fingers into neckfur.

A blond-haired boy trots in, wide-eyed and frightened looking...Cat glances around wildly for a familiar face and settles on Salem, weaving in and out of people and wolves as he makes his way to the elder's side.

Andrea's face appears thoughtful, almost withdrawn despite the energy of the gathering crowd. She stands with her two packmates without speaking aloud.

Leala makes her way into the Caern, looking very unsure about her surroundings. She doesn't visit it much and looks a little uncomfortable. She spots Salem though, and makes her way towards the Walker Elder, taking a spot near him, and giving him a slight bow and silent greeting.

Renee smirks and sits down next to the wolf, lightly scratching his ears. "Check out what I've got?" She murmurs, draging her bag over and opening it up just enough to give the other Gnawer a peak.

Salem smiles faintly as first Cat, then Leala join him. He unpockets a hand and ruffles the cub's blond hair absently.

Long-Last-Howl plods toward the gathering, his nose low to the ground and his shoulderblades churning heavily beneath his fur. His nostrils twitch as he starts to follow one trail, and then another, before he gives it rest and moves in.

Tempered-Blade bumps up against her packmate and curls around Andrea's legs.

Fixes-Stuff snuffles at the bag, tail thumping as he gets a good idea of what he is. I like! he affirms, lips pulling back in a kind of grin.

Sheeaghan chuffs in the direction of Long-Last-Howl, saving room for the Silver Fang to join her. That is if he wishes to. Her ears flicker as she looks up towards the falls.

No bunny eared hood, but this Gnawer is fond of hats! Lyra steps out of the mist, tugging on the tassels to her hat as she looks around at the familiar faces and smiles and nods to a few of them. She grins at Renee, moving her steps towards the Galliard. As she gets closer to Fixes-Stuff her grin fades a bit, and she stuffs her hands in her pockets.

Touch Deer sits down next to Andrea, wraps two heavilly scarred arms around his knees, and surveys the crowd.

The young Get of Fenris, Kansas, comes in to the cearn. She pauses as she leans against a tree to look towards those who are here. After a moment or two, the girl comes down and joins the rest in the caern, although she finds her elders no where in sight.

Jarred raises an eyebrow at the young Gnawer and her hat, the faintest trace of amusement playing across his dark features before they harden into impassivity once more.

Eamon stands around, watching the garou gather with his hands in his pockets. He wanders over to the Fianna present and chats with them quietly.

Renee grins, a little tensely due to the fullness of the moon. "It'll get their attention, if nothin' else." Looking over at Lyra, the Galliard sighs softly. "Come'on Lyra. Family, right?"

"Oh..." Kansas begins as she looks towards Lyra, but she clasps her hand over her mouth before she can say anything at all. The girl gives a sigh and walks up to Quentin. "Hey," she says quietly.

Long-Last-Howl flicks an ear. He leans massively in the young Fianna's direction before he heads toward her, his full brush of a tail starting to wag a few times. Sheeaghan is nosed when he approaches. He questions where is Calls-the-Spirits.

Quentin offers over a slight crook of his lips and a nod towards Kansas, "Hey, K. What's the word from the farmhouse?"

Lyra shrugs one shoulder at Renee and offers a quick, brusque scritch to the ears of Fixes-Stuff, though she doesn't hold eyes with him for very long, choosing to scan the crowd and wink at Quentin, even though he's already in a conversation.

Fixes-Stuff eyes Lyra, from his sprawl on the ground, leaning up into the scratching, tongue lolling. Sister, he greets politely enough.

Seeker pads into the center of the caern and sits back on his haunches quietly, waiting for the moot to begin. He looks around at the crowd, wondering where his cub is.

Sheeaghan flickers her tail, delighted to see the Silver Fang. He will he here shortly, remarks the Fianna Theurge. Mentioned something about preparing for something? I don't believe I heard him correctly. Then her muzzle lightly touches his shoulder.

Touch Deer's eyes settle on the massive Long-Last-Howl for a brief moment, studying the scars and movements of the Fang.

Cat hovers close to the arm of Salem, peering from around the Philodox like an owl. "Is the Daisy-lady coming?" he murmurs softly.

Kansas flickers her hand towards the air, "As boring as watching bowling on TV." is the young Get of Fenris' answer. "Fuck, where have you been?"

Renee lightly tugs on Lyra's shirt, encouraging her to sit down beside her. "Wanna sit, Lyra?" The young Galliard is full of nervous energy tonight, continuously looking over the crowd and wetting her lips.

"In the city, obviously," Quentin replies with a quirk of his lips up at one corner, a shoulder rising in a casual shrug, "Haven't had much reason to come out to the farm lately.. been trying to get a hold of some people."

Long-Last-Howl listens intently as the Fianna gives explanation to Tobin's whereabouts. He pokes her with his nose after she has relayed this information to him, and sniffs over her fur. Sensing Touch Deer's eyes, he turns his head, but does not meet the Wendigo's gaze. His head bobs.

Touch Deer grins and nods respectfully in Long-Last-How's direction.

Kansas flips Quentin the finger, just because. "Find friend you are, you know." she retorts coldly. "Should come by and see me, I am bored as hell."

Lyra 'mms' and and shifts to lupus, giving Fixes-Stuff what might be interpreted as a playful shove with one paw before darting on the other side of Renee, putting the galliard between them. The hat doesn't blend in with the rest of her fur- undedicated! It flops about her tack in a ridiculous fashion.

Fixes-Stuff rises from his sprawl in no time, bounding around Renee in an attempt to pounce at the Gnawer Philodox, chuffing happily and tail a-wag. Someone's feeling playful, this full moon.

Sheeaghan looks from Long-Last-Howl's gaze across to Touch Deer. The Fianna pricks her ears forward but does not mention much as she returns her gaze back to the Silver Fang. Has he, Calls-Spirits, mentioned anything to you lately? She shifts on her feet a little as she waits for the moot to begin.

Smiling faintly, Renee is attempting to resist the urge to reajust Lyra's hat when Fixes-Stuff comes bounding around her.

Quentin's lips tug up slightly at one corner, as he allows friendly-like, "Fuck you too. I'm working on my Rite, you know.. I'll be by, though. Just don't have a car, it's hell getting out here."

Leala furrows her brow at Quentin, giving him a hard look. She assumes it's poor form to curse on the sacred land of the Caern.

Kansas looks thoughful for a moment as she looks to Quentin, "Er, maybe I can ask Beth if she could give me a ride out to the city come time. Huh?" Then the young Ferrir turns to see Leala giving a hard look to Quentin, then she lifts her brow in puzzlement.

Salem takes out a brass pocketwatch, glances at it, then puts it away. He folds his arms across his chest and lets his gaze wander the crowd, idly.

Cycle-Breaker plods into the center of the caern. She pauses, and looks about at the gathering. She seats herself nowhere in particular, not really close to anyone.

Shadow Eyes stalks into the caern area, and quickly trots over to the rest of his pack, chuffing greetings as he moves over to them.

Four-Leaves barks at the theurge as he comes after her, trotting away easily with her tail swinging in a mocking, playful fashion, slinking around legs and other tails, hat tassels twined around her throat. Going to go greet others...back when things get serious.

Tempered-Blade wuffs softly to Shadow Eyes. Good evening, pack brother.

Jarred paces slowly around the periphery, watching those who are arriving closely, though nonchalantly.

Long-Last-Howl's posture passes into something that shows slight confusion; after a moment, he responds to the Fianna Theurge in the negative. He does not recall..

Fixes-Stuff nips at Four-Leaves' tail if he gets close enough, then lets her head off to greet her friends. He in turn wanders through the sea of legs and other people, chuffing general greetings as he wades this way and that.

"That'd be cool," Quentin allows with a slight crook of his lips, admitting, "I'm not sure where I'm going to be living soon, but.." he trails off, pausing with a brow arched to Leala as though to say 'What?'

Renee stands, her form twisting and changing as bones pop into new shapes. Lifting her muzzle to the sky, she howls as loud as she can. As the Caern slowly falls silent, she shouts. ~Tonight we come to Moot. To honor Gaia and Chimera, the Spirit of our Caern. It is time for the moot to begin!~ Lifting her muzzle toward the sky once again, the Galliard howls. A deep and resounding sound, that echos throughout the Caern.

Leala rolls her eyes at Quentin, successfully fighting the urge to stick her tongue out at him, and then resumes staring at a deformed leaf she spotted on one of the trees earlier.

Jarred shifts into his war form at the invocation, his own rich baritone howl rising into the night sky.

Layne abandons whatever thought she was currently entertaining when the moot finally begins. The Fianna assumes her wolf shape to join in the opening howl, stretching open jaws to the early evening sky.

Sheeaghan howls up to the opened sky, her ears flickered back against her head with her tail tucked under her belly.

Touch Deer stands, shifts rapidly to his Warform, and raises his scarred throat to the sky in a low-pitched howl.

Long-Last-Howl adds his own deep voice, simple and steady.

Eamon shifts to lupus and adds his howl to the sept's, a ululating note that rises, then falls off gradually.

Salem takes Crinos along with other members of the Sept and joins his howl to the others'.

Valoran takes his own lupus form, a crystal clear howl bursting from his muzzle into the air.

Tempered-Blade comes in softly, her yipping howl cutting high and bright through the calling.

Fixes-Stuff sits down near Renee, lifting his muzzle and howling out along with the others of the Sept, his own voice less familiar.

Quentin's own form sweeps into his war-form, his blue-coloured mane cast back as he howls clear, bright and loud into the skies.. adding his voice in a throaty counterpoint that weaves amongst the voices of the others.

The Gnawer halfmoon pauses in her prancing, throwing back her head to join her sharp strong howl into the symphony of the Caern.

Leala shifts as well, howling along with the others.

Seeker lifts his muzzle and howls to the sky, a long, high note that wavers in and out of the other garou's ranges.

Andrea tilts her face toward the sky, though she remains in homid form--and silent.

Rides-Fire, standing next to his packmate Nightfire, howls lustily as the moot begins.

Kansas shifts into war-form, her growling-howl rings deeply in her throat up to the heavens above her. Her dark ears plastered against her head.

Cat blinks as everyone starts shifting and howling, hastily blurring into crinos and adding his trembling, mewl-like howl- only to have it lost in the waterfall of sound.

Andrea continues to stare at an empty point in space, her lips held in an unsmiling line.

Shadow Eyes looks over slowly to Andrea, then shifts to the lupus form and brushes by her legs.

As the howls die down, Sees-True begins to call out the Litany. ~As Garou, there are thirteen laws that we must follow. The first: Garou Shall not Mate with Garou!~

Cries-No-More stops howling, watches Shadow Eyes watch Andrea for a moment, then looks off into space, distracted by thought, it appears.

Tempered-Blade's howl falls silent, and she joins the rest of Ouroboros in coiling around their alpha.

You know with all this howling going on you guys can be heard from a few miles out. At least with ears like his you can. A large-eared, black, eqyptian looking quadrapedial fuzzball shows up. You know the one, that Strider that nobody's really impressed with. Who's still a cub because his elders are nowhere to be found. Yeah, that's Road Rage allright. The lanky jackalian Strider stopping his descent into the caern at one of the innermost ridges and looking things over.

Eamon stands and begins to circle around the center of the caern, meeting each garou's gaze as he does. "What a crock of shit this is. The Apocalypse is coming, right? The end of the fuckin' world? Why the hell should we repress ourselves anymore? Why deny ourselves pleasure now when we could all die tomorrow? We've all lived together, fought together, died together. The one thing we can't do together is love each other. At least, not physically. How are we supposed to fight the Wyrm when we're so tied up inside and sexually frustrated that we can't even share each other's company? We have to be free, shake off those chains of repression! We're children of the Wyld, we should act accordingly! Get rid of your inhibitions and let your emotions out, so that we can use them to strike down the Wyrm with all our hearts, instead of being so wound up and bound up inside!"

Salem reverts to breed form as the howling dies down and the Calling begins. "The Wyld grows, changes, evolves," he retorts to the Fool, his voice carrying. "A generation of Metis is nothing but decay and stagnation, qualities of the Wyrm."

Tobin slips quietly in amongst the gathered Garou as the howling dies down. He nods just a little at his tribe and packmates who are here and sets himself a few paces away from Valoran. His manner is somber and his eyes are dark with thought.

Jarred smiles darkly. "Sex is all about control, not about love. There are much more efficacious methods of controlling one's fellow garou than bedding them and sullying what last vestiges of morality one has left."

Four-Leaves sits and listens where she is, somewhere between Leala and Jarred, with her tail curled about her toes and ears pricked forward.

Cries-No-More blinks, shakes his head a moment, then looks to the Fool. ~Everything you have said is nonsense.~

Nightfire tries to follow the Fool's retort, though he only manages to get parts of it. ~Create a corrupt thing and stain our own spirits in the process? These /are/ the last days. Will you die with a corrupt spirit?~

Andrea's grim expression cracks--a tentative, bittersweet smile twisting her lips. She sinks down to her knees and spreads her arms out to hold her wolf packmates close. The alpha seems completely unmindful of the Caller and Fool.

Shadow Eyes slurps the Alpha in the face, ears laid back and tail brushed out.

Tempered-Blade licks her alpha's face happily, slathering her with wolf-tounge.

Nightfire turns toward the alpha and her pack. Case in point.

Long-Last-Howl merely growls his response to the Fool. It does not last, however, as his expression visibly lightens, his posture smoothing out as he catches wind of Tobin. He can't help but to rustle his tail.

~The second,~ Sees-True booms, too down out those that are mocking the Fool. ~Combat the Wyrm Where It Dwells and Whenever It Breeds!~

Eamon sighs. "Can't you give us a break? Jeez! There is such a thing as combat fatigue, you know. We just got done kicking the Black Spiral Dancers out of our caern. Even garou can't stand up to a constant state of warfare. If we're always out hunting for the enemy and never take time for ourselves and our loved ones, we're all gonna go nuts eventually. You all see how crazy people get when their children go off to war and aren't seen again for months. They go crazy worrying about their kids, wondering if they're alive or dead. It can happen at any time. I mean, sure, we have to fight the Wyrm and all, but I can only take so much. This law would have us go out every day and scour the countryside for anything that might remotely be an enemy. What happens when all the enemies are dead? We'll all be so paranoid that we start to suspect each other, and before you know it, we're at each other's throats while the Wyrm sneaks back in and destroys our caerns. I bet you that's why the tribes got all split up in the first place."

By the steam vents, Jamethon comes into the caern from the southwest.

Road-Rage decides not to jump in the middle of anything. The jackal drops to his haunches and watches the goings on at full attention. Large pyramidal ears at attention and his tail wrapped about his flank, remaining off to one side of the group. Silence, yes.

Firestarter watches the Caller and the Fool in silence, with her arms crossed. As Road-Rage enters, the young Ferrir softly growls out towards the Silent Strider while watching the events.

Andrea doesn't seem to notice the askance looks any more than she did the Fool. As she straightens again, though, her words show she has not been completely inattentive. "Fight the Wyrm whereever it breeds. Beyond time and death and all known places." The alpha drops her eyes to Shadow Eyes, then looks up to Cries-No-More. Her gaze finally rests on Tempered-Blade. "None of us signed up for a long life."

Tempered-Blade's tail thumps lightly on the ground. But is it a life she would trade for no other. If she were to die tomorrow, she would be pleased with what she has done.

Oh this one is right down her alley. Four-Leaves snaps her teeth at the air. ~Apart from the corruption of the world and the banes that it commands, the Wyrm dwells inside us in the form of paranoia and hatred and irrational fears. Discord within the Caern is also the work of the Wyrm. Would you not fight it?~

Valoran glances over to Eamon. "Y'know? You have a point there. It sucks and it's completely wrong...and any garou that thinks that way should be beaten with a louisville slugger, but it's a point."

Nightfire snarls as he shifts up. ~We were created as warriors. We are strong, we heal quickly. The moon sings to us and calls us to battle each time she rises. There is no rest. Now show some respect for this place and those not born of men and answer in the proper tongue.~

Road-Rage pays Firestarter a mindful ear and whurffs back in a casual greeting. The Strider isn't going to do much to draw attention to himself. In fact he slinks back a little into the shadows. A professional lurker if you will. Instead he slips to a lying position and keeps his attention on the group, eyes and ears alert.

Cries-No-More clasps his arms across his chest. ~There is no greater life than to server the Mother, and destroy her enemies.~

As the mockery of the Fool dies down to a mere rumble, Sees-True continues with the Litany. For every law she speaks, the Fool contests it. Only to be mocked and sneered at by the Gathered Garou.

Sees-True takes in a deep breath and bellows out the fifth law. ~Submission to Those of Higher Station!~

Eamon shrugs at Nightfire and shifts up to crinos, then waves a dismissive hand at Sees-True. ~ I don't have to submit to anyone! You're not my mother, you can't make me do anything. You have to respect me too, right? Litany says so. I don't see what that's got to do with fighting the Wyrm. We're all in this together, right? What does it matter that I have to obey someone who says he's my elder and better when he's up against the same enemy I am? I say get rid of all this bullshit elder stuff and let everybody play on a level playing field. Trust me, everything'll go a whole lot smoother. No more beauracracy to deal with. We'll get rid of the Wyrm in no time.~

Tempered-Blade continues to coil around her packmates as she listens to the fool. This law receives a mocking howl of derisive laughter. Perhaps the Fool has forgotten that we are not just man but wolf.

Jarred nods to Tempered-Blade, and shrugs. "You're missing the point anyway, Fool. If you don't buckle down and curry favor with your betters now, you'll never get the opportunity to have lessers of your own. Eldership is the just reward for having licked so very many boots for so long."

~Now that's not nice,~ Four-Leaves yips at Jarred good-naturedly, canting her head to the side. ~I never did such a thing with you and I still called you rhya.~

Leala calls out, "Without our rank, there is no order, and without order, there is only chaos. Chaos will not help us fight the Wrym. Order will. Have you ever tried to make a decision by committee?"

Salem glances sidelong at Leala, giving his packmate a brief, faint smile.

Valoran chuckles darkly at Four-Leaves.

More laws are stated, mocked, and defended. In time, the Gnawer comes to the ninth law. ~The Veil Shall Not Be Lifted!~

Cries-No-More reaches a paw down to rake Tempered-Blade's back briefly. ~Someone who earns war honors should be respected, Fool.~

Tobin is grim and silent throughout the proceedings. Arms folded across his chest he makes no reply to the Fool at any point.

The formerly perked ears of that watchful Strider flick out sideways in half confusion. He thinks someone is fixin' to get their butt group kicked unless said someone just got elected Fool for the evening. Road Rage rises to his feet in silence and trots around the backside of the group, clambering up onto slightly higher point. Better view.

Stalks-Silence slinks out of the steam vents, looking incredibly sheepish. Ahem. Nothing to see here, she was here all along. Yep.

Eamon snorts. ~The Veil means nothing. You ever try to fight a vampire or a fomor in the city without changing forms? Neither have I. Neither has anyone else I've ever heard of, because they get killed real quick. The Weaver's eyes do not see all. If we shift to crinos in the city, and a human sees, the Delirium clouds their minds. If I have a choice between shifting in the city and being slaughtered by a bane, the Veil gets ripped every time. Everybody makes this out to be such a big deal, but it really isn't! I've seen the Veil torn many times and the humans haven't risen up in numbers and destroyed us like everyone says will happen. Besides, who will believe the human who does happen to get a good picture or video of a werewolf? Humans are in such denial of anything they can't deal with with their feeble senses that the Veil just strengthens itself! We have nothing to worry about, trust me.~

Tempered-Blade turns to just looooooook at the Fool. At least he earns his title, she says at last.

Salem shifts to the near man-form and calls out, ~If only there were nothing but humans out there. If only all humans were affected by the Delirium.~ Irony is heavy in the Walker's voice.

Sheeaghan has been listening the dramatics that she hadn't noticed her packmates arrival. As she notices Tobin, she lightly bumps her muzzle against his calf and gives him a curious expression.

Nightfire stares at Eamon for that response. ~More and more, we learn of caerns that have been destroyed not by the Wyrm, but by humans. Our own caern has come under scrutiny too many times already, because we were not careful enough.~

Cries-No-More simply growls low at The Fool.

Tobin looks down at Sheeaghan when she bumps him and his grim expression softens a little, but not too much. He reaches down and gives her ears a scritch before looking away again and returning to his thoughts.

"The Veil," the Shadow Lord intones, "exists to teach us subtlety and ingenuity. Anyone can fight with claw and tooth. But can you beat your adversary from behind a fog of mystery?"

Stalks-Silence pokes her head up and around, spying Cat. Target sighted, she begins to slink and creep towards him, trying to use the bodies of others as cover.

Nightfire glances sideways at the Shadow Lord.

Road-Rage remains where he is for the time being, lowering himself to the rock and peering over the edge. A mere face and pair of ears poking out of the natural stonework. Or at least he would have it that way. The Strider hangs the tips of his forepaws over a bit as well and keeps his mindful silence.

Cat's been awfully quiet, just watching and listening carefully- he's not looking behind him.

The tenth through twelfth Laws are called out and Sees-True finally gives voice to the last law, spreading her arms as she speaks. ~Ye Shall Take No Action That Causes a Caern to Be Violated!~ The Galliard's arms drop, as she looks directly at the fool. ~We only have to look around us, to see what can happen.~

Stalks-Silence sneaks, slinks, stalks. Just lik a good Raggie scout, she advances on Cat's position until she's poised to pounce. But instead of jumping on the cub and making a scene, interrupting the adults, she steps up behind him and presses a nice, cold nose against whichever bit of his skin is most immediately reachable.

Eamon says, ~The big one. Our great failure But it only shows that no matter how vigilant you are, sometimes you must run and hide from a greater enemy, or else we all die. We get overrun by Spirals and huge banes. How are we supposed to fight them? We don't, that's how. We give up, find some other place to start over. That's the smart thing to do. Save our own skins, then we can regroup and come back harder. That's the way we beat them eventually, right? Wasn't that the right thing to do? The only thing we could do, really. Worked for us, it oughta work for other caerns that get attacked. Sure, we're not heroic and glorious, but the job gets done, right? Here's another law that would get us all killed or driven crazy with hypervigilance and paranoia rather than give up an inch of territory. I tell you, the Litany needs to be rewritten!~

Cries-No-More shakes his head. ~That is all I would expect to hear, from a coward.~

Rides-Fire snarls at the Fool. ~Your plan would have all the earth's places in the hands of the enemy, to gain a few more months of life. Why don't you follow those of my line that have departed, if you do not wish to face our enemies bravely?~

The Walker theurge cubling jumps forward, knocking into Salem a bit as he whirls around to stare behind him- then looks down. ~Cath'rine!~ he exclaims softly, kneeling down and blurring to homid as he scritches her about the ears happily. "Hi..."

Salem grunts, his weight shifting forward as he catches his balance. The Walker Elder turns to give Cat and Catherine a narrow-eyed frown, the expression made more dire with the showing of Glabro fang.

Stalks-Silence chuffs quietly and happily at Cat's greeting, pressing up into the scritches and trying to lick at his face whenever possible, her tail wagging non-stop. She even goes so far as leaning fully against him, nose nudging against his cheek for a moment before she cows down a little under Salem's frown. Ahem.

Road-Rage peers down at the gathered, and somewhat arguing crowd with a faint hint of amusement. He's not seen a better way yet to drive home the Litany. A mostly squelched chortle is given to the startling greeting going on courtesy of the Raggie before he returns his attention to the discussion of general importance.

Nightfire says, ~Our lives are not our own. We live to defend Her and the places she has provided for us. They are our strength. Without them and Her, we are nothing. What use to live our lives hiding? If we cannot defend that which we have been tasked with defending, then death take us.~

Nightfire nuzzles Born-in-Fire as the ragabash enters.

Born-in-Fire settles down beside Nightflash, trying to mimic the demeanor of the big wolf.

Eamon shifts back to homid, still grinning, and looks around at the sept. "Prove me wrong, guys."

Her role as the Caller complete, Sees-True reverts to her birth form and stuffs her hands into her pockets.

Fixes-Stuff rises from his sprawl to greet Sees-True with a low chuffing as she steps down, tail wagging gently.

Road-Rage remains exactly where he is, in the form he prefers. A mere fuzzy black thing watching the crowd silently from a hopefully unseen post. Though close enough that if he sneezes half the caern would turn around and stare. His tail thups quietly against the stone.

Four-Leaves tosses her head, the hat dangling precariously before falling onto her paws. ~Caerns are holy places. Mama Gaia put us here on this world to protect such places- to deny that duty is going against the purpose of our existence. To -knowingly- take an action that would lead to the violation of such a place...is an act of the Wyrm. How can you side with the Destroyer?~

Eyeing Four-Leaves, Fixes-Stuff leans over to try and nab the hat once it falls. Ahaha. Crafty theurge.

Quentin's head shakes slowly, his cerulean-dyed ruff waving slightly in the wind as he growls deep in his throat, ~ At times, we have no choice but to retreat and regroup.. but to purposefully do so? ~ A snort, as he completes, ~ One by one we won't be able to recover one caern.. then another.. then another.. until there aren't anymore. /Then/ we're fucked. ~

Nightfire wrinkles his nose. We're back to the First Law?

Jarred snorts quietly.

There's a possessive bark as Four-Leaves lowers her head over the hat and butts skulls with the sneaky crescent moon, growling gleefully, ~Mine!~

Tempered-Blade chuffs softly at Nightfire. Not the the real sense.

Fixes-Stuff likewise growls at Four-Leaves, tail thudding contently behind him as he snaps playfully at her muzzle, never intending to land tooth to fur. You dropped it! he teases.

Shadow Eyes clears his throat, and the Ritemaster moves to his appointed position.

Shadow Eyes moves away from his pack, and brings with him a simple stave of wood. He looks back to them, and then to the rest of the sept as he walks to the designated area. He circles twice, and points the stave at all the assembled garou. ~We are born in secrets and die in secrets, and all our days are shadowed by the revelations that we keep close to our breasts, and carry to our grave.~ He turns the staff once more, and a soft trail of shadows bleeds from the ends to fall on the ground... and wiggle away, shadow serpents of darkness and fire.

~We walk in the half-world, and the hard world ignores us. The shadow is our friend, ever and always, and is always with us." Another turn. More shadow serpents spill from the end, as the runes of the caern begin to slowly throb with a dull red light.

~Shadows move and cloak us always, and we must always work in the dark, hidden away, living secrets ourselves, for only that way can the Wyrm by driven back. See us not, for we are smoke. Scent us not, for we are rain that becomes mist. Hear us not, for we are the night!~

Another turn, the third great one, and a veritable flood of serpents issues forth, coiling as cold darkness among the assembled garou, blending into the dancing shadows from moon and firelight. Then, suddenly, the stars overhead begin to go out. Dark shapes loom tall as ancient collossi, and looks down upon the puny wolves below. The serpents have joined into one huge thing that coils astride the rim of the caern like a half-glimpsed serpentine nightmare. It's eyes open wide and they throb with the same dull light as the caern runes themselves. Soft star-stuff flares and is blotted out as the huge snake opens it's mouth wide, great dark fangs gleaming. ~The Caern is opened!~ The Ritemaster exclaims even as the serpent darts forth to cover all in darkness as thick and palpable as velvet. Then it is gone the way of all shadows, falling into shards of darkness that drift away on the wind and become ravens.

Shadow-Eyes throws back his head and howls.

Road-Rage gets some dust into his nose and he gets a good freight train going. The poor Strider just about launches himself off the rock trying to squelch it. *hrr...SNERK* *thud* When its all through he flattens himself against the rock and tries not to look /too/ silly.

Born-in-Fire's tail slams between his legs and doesn't come out again.

Seeker narrows his good eye slightly at all the shadowy snake-shapes.

Four-Leaves snatches her hat up in her jaws and prances back, eyeing the strange spirit summons-turned-ravens. Unconsciously she sidles back up to Fixes-Stuff, rubbing her muzzle against his shoulder. That supposed to happen?

Andrea holds her breath as the serpent falls on the caern then audibly exhales, though for some the sound is lost in the whisper beat of shadow wings. She bows her head at the Ritemaster.

Nightfire lifts his head and howls welcome to the spirit.

Rides-Fire crouches down closer to the ground, his tail losing its dominant tilt.

Cat "eh hehs" under Salem's glare and goes back to watching things...and then when snakes start materializing he sort of squeaks and hugs Stalks-Silently tightly, burying his face in her ruff and peeking over the top of her head to watch the strange snakes and swirls. His tail would be tucked if he had one...right now he's sort of hiding behind the Gaian cub.

Quentin's green-gold eyes widen as he drops back a step, his thick tail falling slightly between his legs and his manner one of.. humbled awe as he watches the shadow-serpents born and hears the voice of the Ritemaster. As some others howl, he remains silent, too awed and slightly nervous to join in.

Fixes-Stuff tries to stand still and be all supportive of Four-Leaves. Yeah, he rumbles, trying to sound certain. Of course it is. He knows what he's doing. A reassuring chuff and brave words from the gnawer, being as he barely even knows Elan.

Stalks-Silence peers oddly at Cat. It's just shadows, she points out, licking at his ear.

Eamon looks a bit nervous, but shrugs and howls anyway, shifting down to lupus and welcoming the spirits.

Salem stiffens, his posture going rigid; one golden eye fixes narrowly on Shadow Eyes, then shifts upward toward the serpentine shadows. The Walker bares his teeth briefly, then calms himself.

Cries-No-More stares up at the rim, eyes intent on the shadowy serpent that marks the Opened Sky.

Renee's jaw drops and she just stares, eyes wide.

Long-Last-Howl's hackles are raised with awe and alarm, and his ears, flickering once, fold back against his scalp. He freezes.

Tempered-Blade bumps against her packmate, more amused than frightened.

Tobin becomes more animated at Elan's opening of the caern. His eyes light up with enthusiasm at the display and he nods in approval at the Gnawer Theurge.

Road-Rage remains just flattened upon the rock he occupies. A dark spot that however, isn't turning into ravens.

Salem glances down at Cat and Stalks-Silence, shakes his head slightly, and steps up to the rocky outcropping. One thick-nailed hand dips into his coat pocket and removes a well-cleaned rib bone. He addresses the gathering, his voice carrying easily. ~As wolves and men break bones apart to bring forth the marrow locked inside, so do I crack this bone...~ -- here the Walker Philodox snaps the bone in half -- ~...to bring forth truth. The Cracking has begun. Those new to the Sept, cub and adult, come forward, give your names and be recognized.~

Cries-No-More looks about, to see who steps up to be introduced.

Four-Leaves flicks her ears as Salem speaks, then nudges Fixes-Stuff with a wet nose, tail swinging slowly. Whatever coldness she had shown to him before, it seems to have been put aside for the moot. That's you, isn't it? Up!

With a bound to his step, Fixes-Stuff approaches the Walker, shifting up into Crinos as he does so. His words are preluded by a short howl of greetings to the sept in general, before he offers forth, ~I am Raul Fixes-Stuff, mighty Cliath of the Bone Gnawers, born under the moon of knife and tooth. I come to you from the Sept of the Eternal Circle in Denver....and I am here to offer teachings.~

Shadow Eyes moves back to his packmates, shadows trailing after him as he does so, pulled from their hiding places among rocks and other garou.

Road-Rage doesn't move a muscle. In fact he's doing quite a good shadow impression. His entire body stays melding with the stone he rests upon, and he watches in keen interest. Anyone that has needed to know him, already does as he would have it.
Nightfire shifts into the warform and steps up to the Truthcatcher, taking the bones in one hand. ~The challenge between Fights-For-Hope and Wildfire is concluded,~ he announces. Looking toward the Get Theurge, he adds, ~Fights-For-Hope plans to challenge again soon.~ Moving on, he calls, ~There is only one new challenge at this time.~ He looks to Salem.

Fixes-Stuff hops down, shifting back to Lupus as he does so, landing next to Four-Leaves and flopping comfortably on the ground.

Salem's gaze falls almost immediately on Tempered-Blade. He speaks formally and again, his voice carries. ~Susan Tempered-Blade, Ragabash of the Fianna. I Challenge you for the rank of Fostern.~

Cat peers up from Catherine's fur, blinking in surprise.

Quentin's head raises slightly, ears perking as he overhears the challenge frm a familiar voice.. although he doesn't look entirely surprised at some levels, he does seem a bit tense.

Tempered-Blade's form blurs upwards to her birth form, and the young black woman shoves a lock of hair out of her face. "Your challenge is accepted," she says softly, "but it's going to need to be damned fast. Talk to me tomorrow before the revel, and I'll give you the details."

Eamon's eyebrows both raise, looking over at Salem and Susan in surprise. "No shit!"

Four-Leaves flops across the theurge and pins him, watching Salem with keen interest, ears pricked forward.

Salem arches an eyebrow, then dips his head, first to the Fianna Ragabash, then to the Master of the Challenge.

Nightfire hands the bones back and steps back into place with his packmate.

Renee just scowls, arms crossing.

~There are others who have news to bring before the Sept,~ Salem says as he takes the bones back. ~Those who do so, come forth and be heard.~

Valoran stands from where he's been crouching, and saunters up to Salem, taking the bone and putting it in his left pocket casually. He turns to face everyone, his face grave. "I'm Valoran Xavier Grey, as most of you know, or SHOULD know, if you don't. What you might NOT know is that a few of our number seem to have left on extended vacation. Lady Sterling has seen fit to relinquish her claim to the eldership of our tribe. Kristine and Apocolypse are gone as well. So I'm taking over as elder. I don't see anyone around more qualified, so the duty falls to me. I'm sure this will make you all feel warm and fuzzy, but there it is. I'm the man. It's all me." He grins brilliantly. "Any questions?"

Nightfire looks around the gathering to see if any wish to challenge this otherwise-rightful claim.

Cries-No-More appraises the man who has declared his Eldership, face a mask of neutrality.

Tobin may as well have been slapped, so shocked is his reaction to Valoran's announcement. He starts to say something and stops several times, his face getting more and more flushed as he gets more and more angry. Finally he takes a step forward and surges up to Crinos. He turns to Nightfire, first, however. ~Master of the Challenge, I apologize for putting this forth out of order, but,~ he says tightly, then turns to Valoran. ~I, Calls-the-Spirits-To-Battle, hereby Challenge Valoran for the position of Alpha of the Silver Fangs of Hidden Walk!~

Long-Last-Howl curls a black lip away from his teeth, and gives a fierce, encouraging look to the boy Theurge.

So that's the tribe he wants to be elder of, Four-Leaves chuffs, right ear swiveling as her green gaze goes to Tobin. I was about to ask.

Salem folds his arms across his chest, watching impassively.

Eamon shrugs at Valoran's announcement. "Eh."

Valoran's smile widens, and he leans forward, taking the bone out of his pocket and waggling it like a magic wand. "You? Tobin Potter of the Pack of Secrets? You want eldership? You really do?"

Cries-No-More fingers his club, eyes moving back and forther between the Fangs gathered here tonight.

Nightfire tilts his haad, obviously failing to catch the reference. ~A proper challenge has been issued.~

Calls-Spirits snarls at the Fang Ragabash, taking one step towards Valoran. ~/Yes/,~ he says succinctly, clearly trying not to just punch the smartass.

Road-Rage rises in dead silence and trots his way through the gathered crowd, cutting across quickly rather than traversing the edges of the caern. He almost tactfully makes his presence known in case anyone was in desperate need to speak to a Strider. However said presence doesn't last very long, and his dark form is to be found picking its way up the trail back towards the bawn with only a moment's notice.

Valoran looks to Nightfire and nods respectfully, then glances back to the Theurge. "All right. I accept your challenge. You'll meet me in one week's time at midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil... err.. no, that was a movie... Midnight in the hedge maze at Falcon's Rest. Your test will be explained there. If you pass, you'll become Elder of the Silver Fangs. If you lose, you get squat." He turns to Salem to return the bone, but hesitates. "But since I'm technical elder until then.. I want hot pockets on the table next to my bed and the covers turned down before I get there. An elder needs his rest." He hands the bone back to Salem. "That's all.. thanks."

Shadow Eyes grins broadly at Tobin.

Nightfire again, seems to miss most of the references, but he looks to Tobin for a response.

Eamon shakes his head and twirls a finger in the air in a 'whoop-de-doo' gesture.

Salem nods politely to the new Fang Elder as he takes back the bones.

Cries-No-More flashes the acting-Elder a baleful look from his spot with Ouroboros, as the man hands over the bones and steps down.

Quentin can't help a faintly amused snort at the 'Potter' reference, before shifting easily back down to homid; shaking his head and casting Tobin a slightly crooked smile and a brief thumbs-up, whether he sees it or not.

Calls-Spirits nods at the setting of the time and place. ~I shall be there,~ he says, voice still tightly controlled. He almost chokes at the orders from the Ragabash and growls, but doesn't defy him. He shifts back down to homid and stalks away to the edges of the crowd.

Long-Last-Howl boils. His fur stands on edge, and his eyes remain on Tobin, positively intense.

Four-Leaves glances over at Renee, tongue lolling out and shaking her head in an oddly human gesture. ~Not quite abuse, nor is it kindness. 'But all the good service done to Tash, I take as service done to me, and it is I who rewards him.'~ The red wolf snorts and flicks an ear.

Nightfire rolls his shoulders in a simple shrug. ~So witnessed. One week.~

Andrea stands for a long breath before moving, once the Truthcatcher turns to her. Finally, squaring her shoulders, she starts toward the bones. As she walks, she shifts up into crinos. Tempered-Blade follows after her.

Salem bows his head toward the pair and holds out the bones for Andrea.

Cat watches Andrea curiously, here at least was someone he knew..his fingers comb through Stalks' fur.

Cries-No-More's expression becomes somber, even harsh, and he follows Andrea and Susan up onto the mound.

Shadow Eyes, still in his crinos form, walks up behind Andrea to join her.

Bitter Cup takes the bones and turns to the sept. ~Tonight I announce grave news,~ she begins. ~A choice I never expected. Words that I never expected to utter to the open sept.~ As the rest of the pack joins her, she raises her chin slightly. ~Words of my past and of this sept's future.~

Salem's eyes narrow slightly. Arms folded, the Philodox listens, a tense frown starting to tug at the corners of his mouth.

Seeker's ears perk up slightly, the only motion the ahroun has made in hours. He shifts and listens intently to the Alpha's next words.

Renee lifts her chin, as she looks at the Alpha. Jaw clenched, lips little more then a thin line, and hands curled into fists.

Cries-No-More comes to stand behind his alpha, his heavailly scarred frame standing a full head and shoulders above the smaller Gaian. He gazes out into the small crowd, face impassive.

Tobin, despite his own earlier drama, has stayed in the caern and is watching Andrea intently, a troubled expression on his face.

Bitter Cup says, ~Few of you know tales of my life before this sept. Even fewer know stories of my bloodline--as obviously unpure as it is, I doubt many of you have thought of it.~ Momentary, grim humor darkens her expression. ~I learned early in life to speak of it to no one, even though my sept knew. I was feared and scorned, for my mother was a mage. What many of our kind call the Warpers.~

Leala raises her eyebrows in surprise, but the rest of her face remains expressionless as she listens to the Alpha's words.

The Gnawer halfmoon flicks her right ear. Despite her earlier expression of lupine surprise at this bad news, she almost seems relieved, as though there could be many worse fates than Warper parents. Dancers just outside in the thousands, for example.

Tobin looks surprised at the revelation, but not at all upset. He merely looks more interested and curious now about what the Alpha will say next.

Bitter Cup glances down at the bones in her hands before looking back at the sept, her expression again impassive. ~She disappeared, as did all of those that the mages call Oracles, quite some time ago. None of my magic, or the magic of those mages left behind, could find her. After some weeks of sniffing at a cold trail, I returned to the sept. Months have passed. I became your alpha. But now, word has come. A spirit has come far, to tell me my mother calls. Whatever danger threatened--she believes my aid necessary for success.~ Her ears splay outward. ~You do not know my mother,~ she says, with a hint of fondness. ~But I do. She follows the Earth Mother, the path of life and blood. She would not call to save only her own life. She fights for Gaia in her own way.~

Quentin's brow furrows slightly at those words.. his lips pursing in a frown, brow furrowing as he looks over the others for their reactions. His tongue silent, carefully so.

Renee's stance slowly relaxes as the Alpha speaks, replaced by a puzzled and conserned frown.

Salem's face slowly turns impassive as Andrea speaks. He nods slowly, showing a flicker of resignation, perhaps disappointment, no more.

Bitter Cup raises her chin again. ~I will go. I do not know what I will face. I am being called by a woman whose magics are limited only by what she can imagine. I may never return.~ She gestures at her pack. ~My pack has chosen to go with me, into whatever unknown place we must go. Those of us that survive--we will return if we can. But this is not a simple quest for our totem. You must look for other leadership.~ Her eyes sweep those that listen. ~This place has strength. I know you will find it. And we will return if we can.~

Long-Last-Howl listens, his temper from before stayed by horrible curiosity that he will not admit to.

Bitter Cup says, ~Those that would be alpha, would be Ritekeeper, speak to Robert. I may be gone before such things are settled.~ The Gaian looks down at the bones again, and says with honest directness, ~I have been proud to serve as your alpha.~

For the second time in the evening, Tobin looks shocked. Just completely floored. He recovers more quickly this time, and much more calmly, and simply nods. What must be done, must be done, his posture seems to say.

Seeker's ears droop slightly as he listens, but says nothing as he hangs on Andrea's every word.

Tempered-Blade, back in the form of the wolf, looks up at her packmate. She will be leaving as well. She will not let her alpha walk alone into this darkness. It is the task of the Circle-Snake path to see out the hidden places. Let is never be said that we fled from such a quest.

Cries-No-More simply states, ~My pack is going to need my claws, more than ever, on this quest.~ His eyes go to the ground.

Renee looks down at her feet and lightly shakes her head. Its impossible to tell what the Gnawer is thinking, as she lapses into an unusual silence.

Salem nods again, his eye shifting briefly from Andrea to Tempered-Blade and back again. The Walker unfolds his arms, then clasps his hands behind his back.

Shadow Eyes chuffs. ~I will settle matters in the Scab, and then be on my way with my pack.~

Bitter Cup inclines her head once more, after her pack comments, then hands the bones back to Salem.

Long-Last-Howl lifts his head, now, his posture steeped in shock. His ears twitch once, and then, he howls softly, just a moment, in his low and quiet voice.

Salem accepts the bones from Bitter Cup, then addresses the -- now much more subdued -- gathering of werewolves. ~If there are no more announcements...~ He pauses as Long Last Howl gives voice, then continues. ~...I declare the Cracking of the Bone... closed.~ The Philodox steps down, rejoining Cat and Leala.

Picking up her knapsack, Renee leaves the center of the Caern and walks into the treeline near the rock slab.

Four-Leaves bows her head, ears flicked back against her skull.

Quentin's frown lingers as the cracking is closed.. looking a touch worried, one hand raking back through his hair, gaze flickering between various faces and reactions to this stunning news.

Cries-No-More looks distinctly like he's forcing himself to be calm, collected, and unemotional at this time. He sticks very close to Andrea's heels.

Renee walks out of the woods and up to the edge of the Rock Slab, each step accompanied by the clank and clatter of metal. From that vantage point, she looks over the gathered Garou. Hands on her hips and brown eyes examining each face, before she speaks. "I now stand before you, to tell you a story." The Gnawer's voice is clear and completely free of the growling rumble, that many are familiar with.

What the Gnawer is wearing is odd and something not normally seen in the Caern. Her clothes consist of little more then a baggy sweatshirt and jeans. The huge sweatshirt hangs loosely around her body and strips of cloth have been sewn onto its surface. The bits of cloth are little more then colourful rags, in which nearly every colour imaginable is represented; From dark blue, to brilliant pink. These rather interesting decorations cover nearly every single inch of the sweatshirt and are rather distracting in their intensity. Bits of metal hang from Renee's; Everything from crumpled tin cans, to a bent fork. Around her wrists and ankles, there are similar decorations. Hundreds of ring-pulls from tin cans are strung together, and clatter and clank with every move Renee makes. The entire ensemble is absolutely huge, far too big for the Galliard's slim form. The reasoning behind this is explained, as the Gnawer's form swells and contorts into that of a werewolf. The sweatshirt grows with her and actually fits rather well, while the jeans fade into nothingness.

Salem folds his arms across his chest and focusses his attention on the Galliard; his face remains cold, impassive.

The Gnawer philocliath lifts her head curiously, blinking. ?

Eamon smirks at the Gnawer's outlandish sweatshirt and sits up to listen to the story.

~I am here to tell you a story,~ she repeats. Powerful voice carrying across the Caern with ease. ~One of honor, shame, and bravery.~ Golden brown eyes look into the faces of those gathered, while Sees-True-Nature pauses for a moment. ~There are not many among you why have not herd of the UL pills that plague the city. They would seem to be little more then a drug, much like those taken by countless humans every day. But these, these are very different. Not only do they contain a drug, but the blood of a Vampire!~ The Galliard lifts her arms above her head, the various bits of metal clanking loudly.

Lowering her arms, Sees-True uses her clawed hands to partially illustrate what she is saying. ~It took us some time to figure out why these pills were so strange. New drugs are not unusual, but special Raves were being organized. For the sole purpose of handing out these pills for free and you couldn't find them anywhere else. All very strange and unusual." Sees-True rubs at her jaw, mimicking a human contemplating a puzzling situation. ~Then something strange happened and we began to learn more about these pills. The night after one of these organized Raves, a human family was murdered. Their blood was used to paint the wall and collected in huge bowls. Only one from that family was unaccounted for, a young female. Her name and picture were in the paper. With this information Alicia Guards-The-Flame, was able to use her considerable skill with the Rite of the Questing stone to track this female. It took several hours of searching, but we found her.~

The Galliard's fingers entwine together and she peaks' above them. ~At first, we were only going to follow. But things so rarely go as planned.~ The Gnawer's hands drop to her side, amid clanking bits of metal. ~Guards-The-Flame attempted to capture the woman and that is when we learned that she was a formori. Not only were these pills tainted with a Leech's blood, they turned humans into servants of the Wyrm.~ The last is punctuated with a savage snarl.

~The battle was short and bloody. Guards-The-Flame's intestines were pulled from her body, by one of the extra arms that the Formori grew. Between the two of us, we killed the creature, smashing its head open on the sidewalk. There is no Glory, in allowing one of the Wyrm's servants to live. To protect the Veil, I took the body to a safe hiding place and I called upon Andrea-Rhya to help us.~ Sees-True looks toward the Alpha, lowering her head respectfully. ~Our great Alpha, with the aid of her pack, was able to use the Formori's body. It led them, to where the creature was /created/. It was a warehouse, like a hundred other in the city. Only the Shadow was heavily tainted and crawling with Blood Spore Banes. Along with one very large and powerful Bane.~

From the rock outcropping, Sees-True takes a deep breath, tongue flicking across her nose. ~To have a better idea of what we would be facing, I spent several nights watching the building. What I saw, was disturbing. Several Formori dragged a woman into the warehouse, screaming and sobbing. From others, we have learned that these humans are kept in cages. Their bodies mutated and transformed, in some sort of twisted experiment. When I came to the farmhouse to report what I had found, Salem insisted that I be checked for taint. I had been scouting alone and it was a wise request.~ The Galliard straights up, lifting her muzzle. ~I was checked for the Wyrm's touch on my body and it was found.~ Sees-True lowers her head and slumps her massive shoulders. ~Too my great shame, I was tainted. Salem had shown great Wisdom, in insisting that I be checked. ~ Still refusing to meet the eyes of those around her, Sees-True begins to speak again. ~Laura Child-Holder attempted to drive the taint from by body. She failed. It took a second Cleansing, preformed by Andrea-Rhya, to drive the Taint from my body. As the Wyrm's touch faded, a Blood Spore Bane left. It had been following me in the Shadow. Given enough time, I would have turned into a Formori.~ The Gnawer allows a short pause, so that the lingering silence that bring that particular point /home/. ~I was Ghouled as well, the Leech's blood having found its way into my body. Even if I do not remember how. I was able to resist the cravings and in time, I was cured of this ailment as well.~

Salem grunts, a barely-audible sound, and gives a slight nod, remembering this.

~With what we had learned of these pills and the corrupted building where they were being created, the warehouse's Umbra was attacked. Three-Blades, Guards-Flame, Fights-For-Hope, Calls-Spirits, Wildfire, Bitter-Cup, Cries-No-More, Salem, Faces-Shadows, Golden-Eyes, Nightfire, and Rides-Fire were part of that battle. Together, they defeated the Banes that inhabited the Shadow. Remember their names, for what they did that night. Especially Andrea-Rhya, whose claws landed the killing blow, on the most powerful Bane. ~ Sees-True-Form lifts her arms above her head, while lifting her muzzle to the sky. Deep voice turning into a near shout. ~Remember their names and the Glory they earned, while battling the Wyrm and serving the Mother of us all!~

Arms dropping back down, Sees-True makes a movement to encompass all the gathered Garou. ~Soon. Soon we will go back to this warehouse. The Umbra has been cleared of Banes. It is now time to destroy the evil on this side of the Velvet Curtain. It is time to /kill/ the Vampire responsible for all of this Taint and misery! We will wipe this abomination of the face of Gaia!~ With those final words, The Galliard lifts her muzzle toward the sky and howls. A deep resounding sound, that encourages the others in the Caern to join in.

Quentin tips his head in a slight nod as he listens to the story, showing little surprise as he listens to its words. A nod to himself, arms folded loosely across his chest and shoulder easing back to the tree again.

Salem unfolds his arms and transforms into Crinos, his head tipping back as he adds his voice to Renee's -- a deep, rumbling bellow, well-controlled but savage underneath.

Four-Leaves follows her elder's howl quickly, her cry strong and certain-sounding.

Bitter Cup, still in crinos, joins in this howl without hesitation.

Eamon grins at the story and shifts again to lupus, howling loud to the sky.

The two lupus of Reforged also howl. Rides-Fire bares his teeth, pleased again to have a simple target.

From the rock outcropping, Renee shrinks back down into her birth form and removes the gaudy sweatshirt, as she leaves the rock slab.

Rides-Fire flicks his ears back as the tin cans clank. He sneezes with disgust, then nosebumps his packmate.

Long-Last-Howl lets his low voice eventually fade, his ears forward as his eyes follow the young Gnawer down.

Bitter Cup looks around. ~Tomorrow night, when the moon hangs fullest, we will go.~ Her ears splay slightly. ~I have already rented the U-Haul. And if any would learn that rite, I may have enough time to pass it on before we depart. Mother be with you all, until we gather again.~

Four-Leaves' howl trails off as Renee returns, and she waits till Andrea has finished speaking before padding to Renee and circling around her ankles. Let's learn -that-. It's so terribly Urrah-y.

Salem shifts down from Crinos to Homid and pushes his hands into his coat pockets. He glances over at Renee. "Well told, Galliard."

Dragging her newly-stiffed backpack behind her, Renee lightly pats Four-Leave head. "Sounds like a plan," she rumbles softly.