Rite of Feralia 1997
Participants: Seshemw/Paul, Seeker, Aken-Benu (I forget who that is!), Blinks-at-Fire, Su
Ritemaster: Tiy, NPC
GM: Sepdet

This year I used an NPC from the Wheel of Ptah to run the rite. The plan was for the NPC to be lost and for Sepdet to finish the rite (which she was just learning, quite possibly from her uncle.) Unfortunately, Anpwhotep decided to go after the NPC. Falling behind in Feralia is often fatal. He knew what he was doing… :(

A shimmer begins to form over the low flickering fire, as a stream of pale light arcs up from it like a moonbow into the sky.
Long distance to Seshemw: Tiy will arrive while you’re doing vigil.
Seshemw’s gaze comes back from infinity as reality shifts with the opening of the bridge, rising smoothly to his feet with more than a hint of surprise. Staff in hand, he stands quietly watchful, ears pricked forwards.
A running shadowed form streaks down the tenuous path in the blink of an eye. Within the time it takes for Paul to notice and react and brace, the sturdy figure of a strange Garou has hopped off the end of the steep slope onto the rocky ledge by the fire, and in turn glances around her surroundings calmly.
Seshemw inhales deeply, then rumbles calmly, ~Greetings, and provisional welcome, swift runner. I am Seshemw, halfmoon and Fostern, Child of the wind of Dawn.~
Tiy does not reply immediately, but traces an old hieroglyph–a bolt–over the fire, fastening her gaze upon it. The spring of the moonpath flickers out like a light snapping off, but of course with no sound whatsoever.
Seshemw stays quietly poised, exercising his patience. Given a couple of years, he might even manage something akin to Anubis’ calm silences.
Tiy’s deep gravelly rumble is measured and to the point, every nuance as controlled as as the movements of a klaivemaster wielding their blade. ~I am Tiy, Tut-meri-Tefnut, Galliard Athro of the Wheel of Ptah. Well met.~
Seshemw’s fur doesn’t even twitch, he’s that still. ~Forgive my rudeness then, rhya. You are most welcome in this place. Have you come to run with us, or would you prefer to lead our leg of the run and the Rite itself?~
Again, no words wasted. ~I will lead you this night.~
Seshemw flicks an ear in acknowledgement, and goes back to quiet watching. Apparently filing away whatever impressions he may be getting from this far traveler and trying not to give too much away in exchange. Sheer nervousness speaks volumes, though, and he still has some learning to do for true impassiveness. It’s obvious he’s trying to not embarass himself or the Sept here, for whatever that’s worth.
Tiy whispers a sharp soft word in Coptic in a commanding tone, with a hand held out. Immediately a small grey stone bowl appears in her hand, filled with some dark liquid. She places it carefully before the fire, then moves towards the edge if the cliff, back to the sheer drop, and assumes a patient waiting stance. She does not look at Paul again.
From afar, Seshemw is so jealous. Summon Talisman can be a great party trick.
Long distance to Seshemw: Tiy grins.
Seshemw settles in to wait again, glimmers of foxfire crawling randomly along the staff in his hand. Meditating, probably, as the time passess towards the Run.
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Tiy(#3107PIJOUceqr$)
A broad-shouldered, ash-grey monolith of a crinos stands tall and proudly, her narrow features sculpted like the crags of some ancient canyon by many scars and the weathering of her travels. Stockier than the more pureblooded of her tribe, and bearing a shaggy ruff of darker fur and a thick crest of a tail behind, it is clear this female Strider has blood mixed with timber wolves as much as anything else. But the utter stillness and confidence with which she holds herself, and her grave, lonely manner which holds all at a distance even when she speaks, show her true tribe. So too does the necklace of gold plaques draping her shoulders, and the sign of a vulture tattooed on her brow. Her gaze is cool and inscrutable; her voice, when she chooses to use it, a commanding tone which is clearly this Garou’s most potent weapon.
Su approaches from the open air to the west, finally alighting on the small mountain ledge.
Su has arrived.
Su touches down lightly, though she’s flying in the war-form. Her manner is rather somber, and she only nods in greeting to Seshemw.
Tiy stands impassively at upon the lip of the ledge, facing the fire, features set in a neutral expression which could be meditative or indifferent. Her gaze flickers towards Su, but she neither speaks nor changes expression.
Seshemw signs a greeting to Su, but doesn’t break the silence in the air.
Su folds her wings neatly, all the while watching the stranger. She dips her head in formal, and politely curious, greeting.
Tiy acknowledges Su’s greeting with a curt, polite nod, no more.
Su’s gaze remains on the newcomer for a moment more before she looks away, acknowledging the other’s desire for anonymity.
There is a shifting of the fabric of the Umbra nearby, and Anpwhotep appears suddenly.
Anpwhotep has arrived.
There is a shifting of the fabric of the Umbra nearby, and Seeker appears suddenly.
Seeker has arrived.
There is a shifting of the fabric of the Umbra nearby, and Aken-Benu appears suddenly.
Aken-Benu has arrived.
Su straightens slightly as her Elder arrives, and greets everyone with a nod. A certain stiffness of her posture communicates the fact that she is not yet very well acquainted with the stranger, Tiy.
There is a shifting of the fabric of the Umbra nearby, and Blinks-at-Fire appears suddenly.
Blinks-at-Fire has arrived.
Tiy stands like a carved statue at the cliff’s edge, arms crossed before her, the fire’s blue flickering light casting dark shadows across her lean weathered shape. A small gray stone bowl lies at her feet, and a grim resignation lies upon her stern face.
Seshemw stands impassively, foxfire glimmers crawling along the staff in his hand, on the side of the fire away from the cliff, facing Tiy. Silent, ears forward, waiting.
Su spies the bowl and her manner shifts from one of polite suspicion to one more like respect.
Tiy unfolds her arms and raises them forward, elbows bent with forearms parallel to the ground and palms facing the arrivals. Her flinty voice is cool and to the point. ~I am Tiy, Tut-meri-Tefnut, Galliard Athro of the Wheel of Ptah. Tonight I shall lead you our cousins on the Path of Painted Stones.~
Seeker nod to Tiy.
Anpwhotep steps forward and looks over the Galliard. ~I am Anpwhotep. Alpha of our Tribe in this place. Welcome, and we appreciate your assistance.~
Aken-Benu just stands attentive.
Tiy studies the small gathering with more than typical aloofness, eyes flicking from one to the next and dismissing each rapidly. The only one who merits more than a moment’s glance is Anpwhotep, who receives a faint frown. ~This is all that are left?~ she asks sharply.
Seshemw signs slowly, taking the time to do it right. /My packmate, Sepdet, has yet to arrive./
Su’s expression, hovering neutrally since the Athro’s introduction, begins to darken ever so slightly.
Anpwhotep says, ~Other than our cub, and the Groundskeeper, these are all within the bounds of the Sept. Sepdet will arrive in proper time.~
If she’s heard Seshemw, the stranger doesn’t seem to notice. ~It is inappropriate for cubs to merit the honor of Feralia until they have proved their worth,~ she says flatly. ~So. To the matter at hand. Gather around.~ She gestures around the fire. ~And prepare yourselves. For know this: I am here to see if a Strider heart yet beats here, if any of you yet have the stomach, strength, and will to endure what is to come.~
Aken-Benu wastes no haste in stepping up.
Seshemw’s ears swivel back flat against his head for an instant before slowly rising again.
Seeker’s features darken and he lifts his lips in a brief snarl before taking a place around the fire.
Anpwhotep steps up to the fire, watching evenly and levelly.
Tiy kneels smoothly beside the fire-ring, which abruptly bursts into a flower of high leaping blue flames. She plunges her arm into their midst, fur catching fire as she calmly and carefully wrests something from the bed of coals. It is merely a plain flat stone, but the woman handles it with a reverence and gravity that hints at its antiquity and its value.
Seshemw’s eyes narrow considerably but he too eventually steps up after due thought.
[Log note: Paul knew Sepdet planned to run the rite tonight, and also by this point has discovered she's not answering pack-telepathy.]
Su moves to join the ring, her eyes slightly narrowed as she contemplates the leader of the rite. Her manner is wary, and holds a proprietary pride the equal of any tribal elder’s.
Tiy steps back, and the flames on her arms die away. She picks up the bowl lying at her feet, and holds it aloft in her other hand. ~Sap, mud, and the blood of the tribe, mixed together,~ she intones ritually. ~So we are one with Gaia, and she with each of us.~
Blinks-at-Fire’s ears rise at the sudden flames. Otherwise, he maintains a straight, if stiff, demeanor as he steps up to join the circle.
Tiy’s deep ringing voice takes on added resonance, as she looks from one face to the next, testing and probing with her disdainful gaze. ~Feralia. On this night, the Wanderers, who foremost believe that each must find their own Way, together run a single road, the Path of Painted Stones. Here we take counsel from the spirits of our kin and ancestors, who rise up to warn and temper our hearts. Here we recognize and share the signs of the coming Apocalypse. Acknowledging them, we must outrun our fears and shadows, our mistakes and pain, leaving all the burdens of the past year behind in the dust. It’s a run for your life. A race against time, for a race who ran out of time long ago. This is our secret.~
Aken-Benu inhales, and in a smooth motion limbers up whilst standing.
Tiy offers the bowl and stone to Anpwhotep with a nod. ~It is time to share the signs, Elder. Name a thing you have seen in the last turn of harvest and dry season, indicator of the last day fast approaching.~
Seshemw keeps resentment, defensiveness, and anger out of his stance but his eyes show a hint of it.
Anpwhotep takes the bowl and stone and looks around calmly. Too calmly, for those who know him….
Anpwhotep says, ~I have seen the Shadows, which are our charge, penetrate into the Day, bringing with them the flames of the Apocalypse. Truly the barriers are falling.~
Anpwhotep traces the glyph of the Tribe upon the rock, leaving behind the colors of the bowl’s contents. He turns and offers the bowl and stone to Su.
Su reaches to take the ritual items, with an almost-familiarity and a reverence that, for the moment, transcends all her earlier posturing. She breathes in slowly and calmly as she draws one thumb-claw along her right hand and allows blood to join the mixture in the bowl.
Su’s voice holds a quiet regret as well as a hint of a snarl, though neither are for the moment directed at Ptah’s emmisary. She says, ~I have seen the dwindling and despair of this strong Sept’s forest-born, as they become too few and too weak to perform the duties that are theirs.~ She looks up once more, and passes the bowl and stone to Seekr.
Aken-Benu looks on with solemn interest.
Seeker takes the stone and the bowl from Su and stares at Tiy as he traces the glyph. ~I have seen the corruption of the scab grow and send its poison into Gaia’s heart, to the very borders of this once-great caern.~ He passes the stone and the bowl to Aken-Benu.
With each Strider’s words, and the tracing of the glyph, the blue flames surge and flare, each time dying back to a level a little higher than the moment beflre.
Aken-Benu takes hold of the stone and bowl. Clenching his fist tight for a moment, he follows previous example and lets his blood drip in. Then scrawling the glyph intones, ~I too have seen the spread of the Wyrm into places sacred and revered, and the strands of the Weaver laid thicker between us.~
Aken-Benu finishes his part and hands the stone and bowl off to the next…
Aken-Benu looks for a moment, then hands them to Blinks.
Blinks-at-Fire takes the bowl and stone. He holds one hand up to the bowl; the cut has already been made, and the blood flows. ~In these last moons,~ he says, ~more friends fell to Garou than to Wyrm.~
Blinks-at-Fire hands the bowl and stone on to Seshemw.
Seshemw parts the flesh of his left hand with a talon, staff leaning against his body while he holds the bowl with his right. The blood gathers in his cupped palm for a moment while he continues to stand silent, then he rumbles, ~I have seen Kin so sure of their own rightness that they eschew all other paths. So determined of only one truth that they ignore others in need until action is eventually taken due to badgering, not generosity of spirit or loyalty or even as a hedge against failure of Vision. I have seen Garou turn a blind eye to other Garou simply because they wish not to hear them, acknowledge their mere existance. I have seen Garou turn against people who are kin if different in other ways perhaps, allies in the Fight, for no better reasons than fear and prejudice and precedent. I have seen Garou slay Garou for no good reason, and acts of brutal ‘Justice’ which could have been tempered with thought if not mercy. I have seen blindness, hatred, hubris and betrayal, more than ever before. These things, and the breaking of kinties, herald the End for me.~ He turns his hand, pooled blood pouring to join the rest. Then wetting his fingertip from his wound, he traces the Glyph as well. Holding stone and bowl a bit longer then reluctantly handing them back to Tiy with a long sigh.
Tiy pages all: Wow, Paul, you’ve been taking speechifying lessons from me. ;)
Tiy declares, ~I have heard the weeping of a once-mighty caern, crippled in spite of the strength much squandered by our tribe for the sake of an Old One’s folly, while the bird-twitter voices of the other Twelve argue over its dying heart in petty quarrels.~ Her tone is as barbed as the words themselves.
From afar, Seshemw laughs. “I was putting a lot of things, including Tommie and Chloe into that. Quaint she took it all as a personal attack. ;)”
Seshemw actually smiles, a little, despite the warform.
Su remains stoic, having expected something of the sort, and marshals her strength for the run ahead.
Tiy traces the glyph with swift deft movements across the stone, and fixes her gaze upon the fire. The air above it has begun to shimmer and flicker. In one movement, she dashes the remains of the liquid from the bowl over the coals, and sets the stone atop the blaze. The fire flares again, in a writhing pillar of blue light.
Seeker listens to Seshemw with narrowed eyes, then turns them on Tiy.
Seshemw shifts his gaze deliberately to the blaze of light, crouching a little.
From afar, Seshemw’s performance is going to suffer a little from worry about Sepdet. ;) Better find her inside.
Anpwhotep watches the air flicker, shifting slightly to his apparently bad leg…
In the shadows beyond the brilliant beacon, clustering on the ledge around you, dark forms slowly begin to coalesce. Each one is a mirror image of the Strider it stands behind, a scarred and grim echo of the burdens and darkness which lie within. Their eyes glow redly, their talons flex, and steam drips from their fangs.
Blinks-at-Fire flexes his claws nervously. He leans forward, like a runner on the starting block.
Su takes in a deep breath that shudders only slightly. She favors her double with only the briefest of glances before turning toward the fiery pillar.
Seshemw rumbles softly, ~Once again into the breech. And no jokes this time, Shadowmine. Your sense of humor sucks.~
Seeker snarls at the appearance of his doppelganger.
Tiy lifts her muzzle proudly, voice a steel of defiant calm, and trumpets, ~The Apocalypse comes, from without and from within! We see the Apocalypse without and fight it every day of our lives. But tonight, tribesmates, we run with our ancestors and our past; tonight we face the shadows within. Follow! The tribe gathers! All over the world, we leap as one!~
Aken-Benu curls his lips into a sneery grin as he lowers himself to launch. ~I had always heard I’d travel far enough to meet myself.~
At the word “leap”, the stranger gathers herself and springs into the pillar of fire, and disappears abruptly at the top of her arc.
Anpwhotep leaps into the gleam, following the Galliard.
Seshemw uncoils into a spring, blurring down to lupus for the long run ahead, shifting down for speed.
Su takes a single quick step and a powerful leap, shifting in midair to dive through the fire in her lithe and speedy birthform.
Su contorts and blurs as she is transformed.
Su shifts into Lupus form.
Seeker leaps into the fire, prepared to run.
Blinks-at-Fire springs from his crouch, running into the fire.
[...]
Umbra: The Long Road
Here is a mighty track suspended in the sky, its uneven surface composed of ashes, cinders, dust, sand, bone chips, mud; every kind of footing. For this path is a ghostly echo of all those the tribe has ever travelled.
Sometimes it runs close to the ground, along a riverbank, through a dark forest, through a narrow cleft in sheer blasted mountains, or even over a gray and tossing sea. Sometimes it arches high over swirling gray mists, where the darkness below smells of death and distance and memories of things that will never be again. Here, the path is a broad sturdy highway; there, it may be a tenuous strand strung between lonely horizons, across a vast bleak emptiness that looks like it would take many lifetimes to cross.
Even when your steps take you over a part of the road paved in granite and stone, it trembles underfoot, from the multitudes which have passed this way tonight. Intermittant and disquieting rumbles of thunder or rending rock break upon your ears like the reverberations of distant heat lightning, or some seismic cataclysm.

Tiy howls as her feet strike the road, ~Run! Run with all your being, and do not stop. Falter or slip from the path, and you will be destroyed. To the west, chidren of Anpw!~ She launches into a ground-eating sprint, and her snarling shadow snaps at her heels and streaks after. All your mirror-selves have followed you, and lunge for you in a screaming tide as you get your bearings.
Aken-Benu screws getting bearings, he runs! There’s a road, so he follows it.
Anpwhotep runs, once again demonstrating why he’s sometimes known as ‘Swift-Runner’.
Su’s usual joy in a run is dampened by the fact that she is chased by one as fleet as herself. She flies over the ground, keeping abreast with the fastest of the pack.
Shows-the-Way’s paws scrabble in the ashes of lost dreams and catch, hurling him forwards if only with mundane speed.
The race begins in earnest, as the tribe beats the path with thundering footsteps and their cometary tail of snarling dopplegangers trails behind. The dust kicked up by your passing rolls along with you in a boiling cloud, out of which insubstantial gray forms swirl and begin to emerge.
Seeker hits the ground running at a torrid pace, his shadow behind, moving just as fast. He tears off after the galliard, anger and determination showing in his expression. His attention is split between Tiy, the road and his shadow behind.
Shows-the-Way gives no thought to the others, just now, pouring himself into the run as fast as he can. His darkness ever snapping at his heels, glowing eyes laughing.
Anpwhotep eats ground like a machine, running with the same cold efficiency he puts into battle.
Aken-Benu only follows along because others are ahead of him. Otherwise he’s just paying attention to where he’s going, and making sure to get there fast.
The shades gathered from the dust cry and roar like wind on a stormy night through heaving tree-tops. Unlike the slavering shadow-Garou, these wraiths do not seem bent on tearing you apart, but run along beside you. Faces begin to emerge: ancestors, friends, enemies, caught up in your wake.
Tiy pages all: Feel free to pose the ghosts of dead kinfolk (human or lupine, of course).
Blinks-at-Fire’s eyes widen with fear as the run goes on and on. No steely-eyed bravado here, in the dreamland, where what was innermost is laid bare.
Most of you get off to a passable start, braced as you are by expectations. Anpwhotep and Seeker, who know this path all too well, take off and instantly put a few yards between themselves and their pursuers. Seshemw, however, stumbles on the tricky surface with his first few strides, going down almost under the outstretched talons of his enemy.
Somehow pacing both Blinks and Seshemw, the indistinct form of a woman manifests, mouth working, inaudible messages lost in the roar. Dressed in the style of the old country, princess and captive from the past. Her children moving with her.
Aken-Benu runs and runs and runs. He gets distracted by many voices that he cannot see unless he were to turn from the road.
Shows-the-Way’s recovery is anything but graceful. In fact, it may well be that only his lurching gait as he tries to get feet firmly beneath him is all that keeps him from disaster.
Su’s eyes flicker sideways from time to time, whether in hope or in dread is impossible to tell. The purely instinctual mechanism of her flight is barely affected.
A perfectly-ordinary woman in trim, modern clothes, wreathed in smoke and flames, throws out from the tide of ghosts a wooden spinning top painted crudely with a cross in the path before Aken-Bennu’s feet. She calls out sharply: “Do not think the past is dead because you cannot touch it! Beware. Memories of childhood are a child’s plaything, and such toys may be swiftly broken.”
A ghostly figure of a Tuareg woman materializes by the path and walks by it silently, her feet stepping on shifting sands. Seeker glances at her briefly as he speeds by.
Anpwhotep’s ears lay tight against his head as the shade of a Talon bitch crosses his path.
For a moment it seems that Su’s double has joined her at her side, but then a stray flicker of dark moonlight illuminates the figure. A sturdy timber wolf bitch is somehow pacing the no-moon, though her paws do not fly nearly as fast as the Strider’s. Only the barest flickers of motion can pass between them in the wolf-tongue, but the strange wolf’s lonliness and regret pierce Su as she runs.
Aken-Benu hurdles the obstacle tossed at him, eyes shut firmly. The seemingly slower-moving shadows staying closest to him speaking though he does not hear.
The shadow of Aken-Bennu makes a triumphant lunge, its teeth snapping at his tail and hindquarters. But his dogged and unswerving pace carries him just out of reach–for now.
A whirl of grey coalesces next to Blinks-at-Fire as he runs. It’s a young man with a strange smile, and a sad look, too. He says a few words, then laughs and falls behind, dissapating back into dust.
Tiy turns her head in mid-gallop to exhort, ~Listen, but do not slow! You are Striders; your feet are the wind. Do not falter.~
A sad-faced clown with face painted white and a tear on his cheek cuts a mournful caper on the harrowing edge of the path as Anpwhotep thunders past. “Step right up! Step right up! Garou half price, Wyrmspawn and children under the age of four for free! Ride the rides, eat the cotton candy, sell your soul, see the sights. Don’t forget to visit our souvenir shop; own your very own piece of Gaia!” He rattles an old-fashioned noisemaker as Seeker passes, throws a handful of confetti in Su’s eyes, and sinks back into the shroud of ghosts.
Shows-the-Way’s pace starts to recover, his only response to run the faster. He thinks his soul is wind, and if his feet get the hang of this all will be well.
Blinks-at-Fire grits his teeth and plunges on, drawing courage from whatever the strange spirit whispered to him. His frightened look recedes.
Tiy howls from the darkness up ahead, ~They gain, my Tribesmates! They gain! Run!~ True to her words, the fell shapes behind Anpwhotep, Seeker, and Su rumble almost on their heels, although the others merely hold pace a few deadly steps behind their prey, howling untintelligible insults and threats.
The ghosts of Aken-Benu’s past slowly one by one begin to slip behind, fading away. Catching up to him from far behind is the owl that oft accompanies him. He re-opens his eyes, memories of friends now gone stirring an anger of determination into his feet.
As you continue to run and run, more shapes join up with you on the bleak and haunted road: other Striders, each stretched to the limit to outstrip the harrowing demons at their heels. Old, young, powerful, weak, great and meek–all trappings of rank and gifts and idiosynchrosies of the place they came from are stripped away in the single act of running to outstrip their own selves. And ever the seething hosts of the dead accompany you, and ever the bloodthirsty shadows bay at your back.
Two small pups bound from the shadows to nip at Blinks-at-Fire’s heels, barking, before one leaps at the other and they fall behind.
A proud-looking elderly African man in a long dark tunic leaning on a spear holds up a hand as the tribe passes by, warning, “Look to your own; the spokes of the Wheel are breaking one by one. But the greater evil shall be when comrade starts doubting trusted comrade. Beware.”
Blinks-at-Fire’s left cheek flinches, and he takes a deep breath.
Anpwhotep thunders down the path, his ears swivelling toward the voices from the night, his legs moving in a mechanical rhythm.
Seeker’s shadow begins to gain on him, red eyes glowing and mouth slavering. Seeker pays it no mind, his eyes only looking forward. In the sky above, the form of a lion-headed goddess can be seen, outlined in blue fire. Below her is an outline more familiar to the older tribe members, that of a young Strider. Four claw-scars can be seen on his right shoulder. A ghostly voice drifts down to the others. ~Run well, brothers and sisters. Ankh ma’at.~
Su sneezes the confetti from her face, and the running wolf beside her is gone. Pain and confusion slow her strides for a moment until she recovers by force of will and regains her smooth gait.
The dead gray haze of wraiths begins to thin out, and in the distance, the mists give way to a welcome darkness of clear sky and bright stars, and a gleam of light on the distant horizon. The sturdy form of your Riteleader pounds onward spearheading the way, her shape obscured by the hissing thing that gallops behind her still.
Shows-the-Way’s gaze catches on the glint of light, the approaching stars, and he takes heart. Despite the considerable differences this run, and the feeling in his heart that it’s nowhere near over yet.
Perhaps from the last tattered remnants of the dead themselves, a small fleeting shape smaller than the rest of you but definitely crinos emerges. Head bent, bleeding from long raking slashes down her back, Sepdet pelts along with you. She doesn’t spare breath for more than a brief bark of reassurance as she falls into step at the rear of the group, her own shadow-self doggedly loping along several yards behind her with a wicked toothy grin perverting its slender features.
Sepdet has arrived.
Tiy says, ~One last effort, Tribesmates! Almost there!~
The Riteleader’s cry of encouragement is cut short as the road under her heaves and froths for a brief instant like boiling soup. She is flung headlong from the path into the spinning mists below. With a gleeful cry, her pursuer leaps after her. All the shadow-Garou, who have finally begun to lag behind, give a hackle-raising bellow of triumph.
Shows-the-Way looks like he wishes he could help the fallen Tiy, but with his shadow close on his heels dares do nothing but run with all his heart. He does take the precaution to leap when crossing the piece of pathway that so casually flung her away.
Aken-Benu is urged ever-onward by the owl-spirit above him and the threat behind him. Finding his footing changing practically with each footstep, he makes the most push forward from every one, not deterred by much of anything.
Anpwhotep eyes the spot where the Galliard was flung from the path. He growls, ~Finish the run!~….and leaps after the Galliard, shifting as he falls.
Su, running right behind the leader, skids and slides on the buckling path. Owl’s wings extend spastically, dragging along the shifting ground and braking her somewhat.
Blinks-at-Fire’s lips pull back into a frightened grimace. He slows, looking for the first time to see what the others are doing.
Seeker’s shadow is now on his heels, occasionally nipping at his flying feet. Seeker glances to the side as Tiy is thrown from the path and nimbly dodges the upheaved path. He surges onward, determined to finish. He calls on his reserves and increases his speed even more, until he is just behind Anpwhotep.
Su digs her panicked claws into the undefined material of the path, her natural agility and Owl’s gift combining to save her from disaster.
Anpwhotep’s hunter springs off the bridge after him, and the tribe Elder vanishes from sight into the depths. Su’s own double needs almost a moment’s hesitation to spring, using its wings to loft up and over her with claws outstretched to grasp her.
Su bursts upward into crinos, needing a broader view of the treacherous path ahead, and immediately runs afoul of her leaping double’s claws and black-feathered wings.
Su contorts and blurs as she is transformed.
Su shifts into Crinos form.
Su’s double slams down upon her, rending at her wings at the base where they meet her back, howling in triumph and glee (and incidentally, blocking the way for those behind.)
Su, having long experience with things that find her wings a tempting target, roars with a pure howl of fury and reaches back with one huge crinos arm to haul the lighter lupus over her head.
Blinks-at-Fire pages to Anpwhotep, Seeker, Shows-the-Way, Aken-Benu, Tiy, Su, and Sepdet: Real life insists that I leave within a few minutes.
Shows-the-Way’s muscles still gathered for his own planned leap,he suddenly springs directly at the blocking pair, light and darkness. Rage speeding his movements, rage flickering his form to a much more imposing profile. Rage making his churning claws more than a passing menace as he heads straight for Su and her Shadow. Obviously, his idea is to rend in passing and perhaps even push off, never pausing in the run. As his feet leave the ground, you can almost hear the prayer.
Shows-the-Way contorts and blurs as he is transformed.
Shows-the-Way shifts into Hispo form.
Shows-the-Way leaps high!
As Su attempts to dislodge the bloodthirsty thing raking at her back, Shesemw leaps just in time to slam the creature full-force away and down. Spinning out of control, it falls away from the path, and Paul hits and lands on the other side, nearly tumbling over the edge himself before regaining his footing.
Aken-Benu follows suit behind the more lupine forms, seeing the trouble ahead of him readies and hurdles any feather-and-furred obstacle.
Strength trying to combat increased mass, Seshemw tries to get it in gear before his own Shadow does unto him.
Seeker spares a backwards glance to the combat behind him and his shadow, then focuses in front of him again and resumes his pace.
Su falls behind, kneeling for long precious seconds on the path supported by one arm with the other curled protectively inward. She laboriously looks upward, then stumbles to her feet and back into the run, oblivious to what’s happening to others of the party.
There is no sign of Anpwhotep, but Paul’s surprise move carries him far enough from his own hungry shadow, and Su’s will take several precious seconds to reach the path again. The living obstacles are cleared just in time, for with nowhere to run, those behind Su find their shadows’ fangs snapping right at their heels again. But the gate is in sight, and Seeker is already at the threshold.
Shows-the-Way’s scrabbling claws finally catch and start to hurl himself towards the Gate and apparent safety just as his shadow passes Su like she’s standing still. His loss off speed countered by his rapidly diminishing lead on his shadow, it looks like he’ll make it, barring disaster.
A flickering glimmer of light bobs around Su’s head as she doggedly moves forward. She gradually brings her head up, then tosses her mane and sprints for the end of the path.
Seeker is first to the jump-gate, not slowing a bit as he leaps through with a howl of triumph.
Sepdet’s pained but defiant howl ripples out as she carries up the rear, ~We are the Silent Striders, with death behind us and death before us: but against all odds, we are alive!~
Aken-Benu has many things running through his head, driving him on with relentless determination to beat out his shadow. Jaw open to heave breath as he pushes himself at the limits of performance.
As the group vanishes, the throng of shadow-Striders falls on one another rending and tearing and topples off the path. Your own spirits seem to leap inside as you burst through the gateway of light, and you find yourself finishing the leap you started hours ago, landing on the ledge beside the fire-ring.
Su crumples somewhat from the combination of exhaustion and wounds, but her mind is clearly racing.
Sepdet pages all: The Rite’s real purpose is supposed to be to banish Harano, and outrun some of your spirit’s burdens. Anyone who made it through, in spite of the horrors you saw, should be feeling a certain amount of exhilerated pride and lightness of heart, like an athlete after a tough race. And no, Tep and Tiy are not here ICly. :(
Fur standing completely on end with the sudden burst of hope, Seshemw slowly makes it back to warform, turning to watch the flames closely. Almost as if he’s hoping to see sign of the missing Elder, and the leader of the Rite.
Shows-the-Way contorts and blurs as he is transformed.
Shows-the-Way shifts into Crinos form.
Aken-Benu begins pacing around the fire, mouth still agape but eyes shut.
Seshemw whispers, ~Good run. Someone take a look at Su?~
Seshemw looks over at his packmate, ears drooping a little. ~And you, too. Decide to run crosstown because you were running late?~
Su looks up, returning to the world as the things she saw slowly fade from her mind to leave her only with a few scratches and a dry throat. She rolls over into a more comfortable crouch, and only then begins to notice the absences.
Seeker stands by the fire, panting. If he is exhilarated, he doesn’t seem to be showing it. He crouches by Su to examine her wounds.
Sepdet herself collapses in a small heap of limbs, resting for a moment and collecting herself. She gives Paul a curt sideways nod, then pulls herself to her feet, and turns back to the fire, still blazing high and blue.
Su obligingly turns her shoulder to display several deep gouges on her back that are interfering with the muscles of her left arm. Her eyes look for Seeker’s, though, with a silent question about Anpwhotep and the Ptah Strider.
Seshemw suddenly slaps himself with the palm of a hand. ~Hell. Does she still have the Stone?
Sepdet holds up a hand silently, indicating that they are not…quite… finished. She reaches quickly into the blaze, scorching her arm, and picks out the stone. Brushing off the now-dried glyph and returning it respectfully into the heart of the embers. The flames fade and shrink, returning to their normal near-spectral state. ~Remember,~ she says softly.
Seeker shakes his head. ~I saw Tiy fall from the path and Anpwhotep follow her. I don’t know where.~
Aken-Benu shakes his head, just to shake out his fur.
Seshemw lets out a deep breath of relief.
Su lifts her head to watch the flickering of blue flame that signifies the end of the rite. Her worry remains easily contained, in all but her eyes.
Sepdet sits down again then beside Su, setting a small hand on her back to investigate the wounds distractedly, brow furrowed. Her voice is calm and quiet. ~Either they are dead, or they are trapped on the paths of the dead. Tiy told me she knew what road she ran tonight. Father…~ She swallows, and smiles steadily. ~I think Father knew too.~
Su turns her head just slightly, searching Sepdet’s face for the truth behind the metaphors.
Blinks-at-Fire pages: Will it be too jarring if I ICly get angry now and make a fuss?
Long distance to Blinks-at-Fire: Sepdet hrrmms. The rite should have helped balance you, in some ways, but it’s not Valium.
Seshemw rumbles quietly, ~So we might see them missing their shadows, or we might not. They could have landed a long way off if they came out tonight.~
Sepdet bites her lip. ~They won’t be coming back. I mean that their souls were either destroyed, or else, they’re lost. In the Duat, the land of the dead. Wolves _do_ fall, in the hunt. And Striders do fall on the Road. But–listen.~ Her eyes are clear, if sad. ~Feel your hearts. The tribe would have died long ago to despair, if we did not run free of our own darkness. We lost, a long, long time ago. But because of Feralia, we survive _anyway_.~
Blinks-at-Fire breaks his long and stony silence. ~Sepdet-rhya,~ he says, slowly and formally. ~I do not understand.~
Seshemw lets out another long breath. ~Then we’ll gather. Did you know Tiy well enough, or shall we send word to Ptah so they can Gather for her?~ In a low undertone he whispers, ~And remind me to not think ill of people when we tempt fate, next time. She listens.~
Seshemw lets his head droop a little, renewed hope having hard going against loss of a friend.
Su pages: I’ll take Blinks, if you want.
You paged Su with ‘Please? I’m not sure he’ll hear you, but I need a moment.’
Blinks-at-Fire frowns. Fortunately the grammar of Garou-speak lets him insert all the appropriate honorifics correctly even when they are absent from his tone. ~I see two missing elders. I do not know what happened in the mists, but I do not think we are so weak that our tribe would crumble if we did not tempt fate this way.~
Su raises her head, seeking out Blinks’ voice in the small group. She does not wait for Sepdet to answer; she speaks immediately, in order to give the seer the time she deserves to think on her former packmate. Her tone is quiet as usual, and grave, and slightly reproachful that he questions at such a time. ~We Garou do dangerous things, Blinks-at-Fire. We face danger for many reasons, and some of them are obscure. I was not born in the lands of Khem, but I have come to know the pain of the wanderers. The tribe would have died long ago if we could not face our pain.~
Blinks-at-Fire bows his head. ~Rhya. I have gotten more pain from this night than it could ever have healed. When the year comes around, I will not follow you down that road again.~
Su looks away, her own jaw tight with emotion, and contemplates the wide expanse of the Umbral forest below rather than look again upon the questioning philodox.
Seshemw looks over at Blinks and says thoughtfully, ~We run together when we run, even if each strives alone. Think about the Rite, and what went into it. Think about what it might mean to the tribe as a whole if you do not participate when the year turns, if you do not feel it benefits yourself. Consider the consequences before making absolute choices.~
Seshemw says, ~Consider, if you were I and did not run this race, that we might have lost three not two.~
Seshemw mutters to himself, ~And now I sound like a Gazer.~
A flicker of ambivalence crosses Su’s away-turned face, as the memory returns of her fears and horrors clawing at her flesh.
Sepdet’s shoulders tighten at the words passed back and forth, but her eyes remain clear, if wistful, as she gathers her own thoughts and memories.
Seshemw rumbles, ~Actually, think about what might have happened to everyone behind her if the path had stayed blocked. But you’ve got a year to consider it, and none of us might be here when it turns anyway.~
Blinks-at-Fire’s left cheek flinches. ~Those do not seem to me like reasons for going, Seshemw-rhya. But… I am tired.~
Sepdet clears her throat, finally giving her own answer. ~Blinks-at-Fire…he is my own adopted father. I love him. He fell doing something for another, rather than fighting tooth and claw in a battle of hate and blood against the enemy. That is both sad, and strangely appropriate. And all I can tell you is that the true test of the tribe is how we face loss, and pain, and outstrip it anyway. Tiy knew this; she ran with you tonight partly on your behalf, to–to teach you loss, and the strength that comes of facing it. Because someday soon we are going to have to be ready to face far, far worse, and whether Gaia lives or dies depends on whether we can.~
Sepdet finishes with a whispered quote, the Harbinger’s voice recalling another’s. ~The battle will not be fought with tooth and claw, but in the hearts and minds of the Garou.~ [[ One of Horus' old sayings ]]
Blinks-at-Fire snorts. ~She should have saved herself the trouble. I already know loss.~
Seshemw snaps, ~And you seem to be handling it SO well, too. Think you’re alone in knowing loss?~
Sepdet holds up her hands and steps between Seshemw and Blinks, dwindling down to a less threatening shape. ~Hush, half-moons. Our Questioner is missing, but I do not think he would wish you barbing at each other on his behalf. Remember. And think.~
Blinks-at-Fire walks over to Sepdet. ~I am sorry,~ he says. ~We all loved him.~
Seshemw contorts and blurs as he is transformed.
Seshemw shifts into Lupus form.
Pack> Shows-the-Way hugs you gently.
Blinks-at-Fire reaches down and puts one large, furry arm gently around Sepdet’s shoulders.
Su bites off another speech of her own, and lets out the breath that it would have used to be heard. She lowers her head, closing her eyes, and remains on one knee at the very brink of the cliff’s ledge.
Sepdet’s eyes glisten, and she leans her head on Blinks’ shoulder for a moment. ~Thank you,~ she mouths silently.
Shows-the-Way walks over to stand by Su’s side, facing out over the gulf.
Blinks-at-Fire begins a howl, softly, low and mournful.
Shows-the-Way raises his voice in counterpoint, dissonance of sorrow and loss.
Su joins in, her muzzle rounded and the howl a low croon that floats over the ledge to resonate among the mists that float above the forests.
Sepdet’s own voice is silent for a long time. Finally she breaks free of Blinks’ arm and tips back her own chin to howl in a higher, less lupine octave than a crinos can achieve. It’s one third music, one third singing, one third howl. Love, loss, and a proud salute.
Su catches the note in Sepdet’s voice, and begins to add it to her own: the pride in the Striders who have made this place their home, and the success of their mission. Her howl rises.
Shows-the-Way’s tones weave through the others, changing to echo the sentiments and help lift them to the spirits of the skies.
Sepdet stays with them for a while, adding her small strength to the howl, then finally slips off to be alone and face her own mixed thoughts.