Feralia 1999
Ritemasters: Sepdet, NPCs Old Guertie and Ibis
Participants: Collin, Alexandra, Paul (puppeted)
Also: Grace, Skye (cubs)

This year I had almost no adult Striders, so I took along our cubs (Skye, Grace) and left them with a group of Strider kin and storytellers to spend time with the tribe while the elders (Sepdet, Alexandra, Collin and Paul) were running Feralia.

Pack> Sepdet says “Feralia tonight? Don’t worry, no one’s even started showing up yet.”
From afar, Alexandra hopes for tonight, too….
Alexandra pages: Collin’s downtown, I haven’t seen anyone else on all day.
At the center, Alexandra heads southeast, towards the waterfall.
Alexandra approaches the waterfall from the center of the caern.
Alexandra has arrived.
From afar, to Paul, Collin, and Sepdet, Alexandra idles with Sepdet near the waterfall, waiting for the rest of our tribe to show up…
Sepdet looks up with a smile, testing the weather with her nose. ~Heya. Ready to run tonight?~
Alexandra nods eagerly. “I’ve been looking forward to this.”
Jack pages: The birds are flocking.
Long distance to Jack: Sepdet hehs. (scribble scribble. A flock of shadowy winged creatures follows the Striders as they run…)
Jack pages: The clouds are grey. Very ominous.
Long distance to Jack: Sepdet grins and adds that in.
Sepdet rocks on the balls of her feet. ~I confess I worry,~ she admits. ~I’m not as sure-footed as I used to be. I may get someone else to take the lead this year.~
Jack pages: The humidity’s up a few points. Foreshadowing.
Alexandra murmurs softly, “Sensei…I have faith in you.”
Sepdet checks her shoes carefully, nevermind that she usually runs in some other form. ~I’m taking us to Old Guertie’s place. She’s got a stone we can use this year. I don’t know who else will be there.~
Alexandra grins. “Old Guertie’s place? I wonder if she’ll remember me well enough to crab at me.”
Sepdet snorts. ~She’ll do that even if she doesn’t remember you.`
Alexandra giggles. “Yeah, but it’s more fun if she remembers. General crabbing is so boring…”
Sepdet says thoughtfully, ~I should have invited them all here, but I suppose that many Striders in one place might start setting off alarms.~
Alexandra nods. “Yeah….we set off enough already. Bringing more here, even for one night..”
Sepdet shrugs. ~Ah, they’ve mostly forgotten us,~ she says vaguely.
Aspen pages: Happy 5th GarouMUSH birthday! :-)  [[Feb 12]]
Alexandra smiles and teases gently, “Maybe we keep too low a profile?”
Sepdet taps her teeth with a faint smile. ~That’s the idea, of course.~
Pack> Soulcatcher says “Sounds good.”
Alexandra giggles softly. “Sensei…”
Sepdet rubs her knees. ~You gotta help me figure out Skye’s other gifts. He’s a Galliard, and homid, and I really don’t know what that entails. Maybe you could try to train him in yours, see if he picks up on it?~
Alexandra smiles. “I’d be happy to. It’ll be nice to have someone around to work with.”
Alexandra takes a hint from your working and begins doing tai chi forms to loosen up.
Long distance to Alexandra: Sepdet warns you I’m going to run this a bit like Moot tonight… since not everyone’s here, we’ll probably handwave parts of the usual ritual and @robot some of it. Do you have any preferences whether I should leave it spam-on, so we can hear what the cubs are talking about while we run?
From afar, Alexandra grins. I can deal with spam. It’d be kind of fun to hear what the cubs are up to. I’m just sorry I didn’t have the brain energy left to come up with a puppet or something to add to it.
Soulcatcher has arrived.
Alexandra nods to Soulcatcher. “Good evening, Rhya.”
Sepdet flexes her hands, continuing her warm-up and trying not to fidget.
Stranger pages: How lovely. Heather brought me a poppy from San Francisco.
Soulcatcher comes down the trail, entering the caern from above with a leap the last few feet. He pads around the pool among the mist and spray, chuffs a greeting to the Striders, and settles to the ground.
Sepdet watches Soulcatcher’s jump with a smile and gets up to go over and bury her hands in his ruff.
Soulcatcher rumbles a contented note to his diminutive packmate, eyes half closed as he leans into the attention. ~Waiting?~
Sepdet starts grooming. ~Mmm-hmmm. Time to take the cubs on walkabout and meet some of the ‘local’ Striders.~
You paged Soulcatcher with ‘Local, at least in terms of the moonbridge Sepdet asked for, being about 300 miles away.’.
Soulcatcher indicates his understanding with a flick of his ears. He too then commits himself to the waiting by getting even more comfortable and enjoying the Strider’s petting.
Sepdet tells Soulcatcher, ~We’re suddenly getting new tribesmates again. Maybe Wendigo and Owl take over the sept, eh?~
Soulcatcher sneezes, overcome with amusement at the statement. ~Perhaps. And they will fly in on their wings.~
Sepdet nods hopefully. ~It’s easier than getting down the cliff walls anyhow.~
Alexandra does her best to not giggle at that image.
Soulcatcher lets the image imrpove his humour as well, and the wolf utters a soft whine that pases for lupus laughter. ~It would make sense, this place filled with Hawk’s children, and Eagle’s. Magpie’s.~
From afar, Skye thuds.
Alexandra smiles and whispers, “It would….it would increase the hope this place offers..”
You paged Skye and Grace with ‘Ooh. I’d better come get you two, eh? We’re going to be handwaving most of the older Striders tonight; they’re all being putzes as usual. :)’.
You paged Alexandra with ‘You got Howl of the Wyld perchance?’.
From afar, Alexandra grins. As a matter of fact…I do.
Sepdet pauses her grooming, growing restless again, and looks to Alexandra. ~Shift down and give a call, will you? It’s almost time.~
Alexandra smiles.
Alexandra contorts and blurs as she is transformed.
Alexandra shifts into Lupus form.
You paged Collin, Skye, and Grace with ‘Yeah, Collin, drag Skye to the caern so I don’t have to go there and come back. I’m getting Alexandra to give a homing beacon here.’.
Sparrowhawk howls long and loud.
From By the Waterfall, Sparrowhawk can be heard to howl, ~(Carried by Call of the Wyld) Children of Anpw, the time is come to gather at the waterfall.~
Soulcatcher turns his head towards Sepdet, ears pricking forward. ~Should I get ready, as well?~
By the steam vents, Grace comes into the caern from the southwest.
By the steam vents, Grace heads into the center.
Sepdet pats Soulcatcher and smiles. ~If you would, Gatekeeper-rhya.~
Soulcatcher climbs to his feet and pads heavy-footed to the center, taking up position near the pillarstone.
Soulcatcher heads into the center.
Soulcatcher has left.
By the steam vents, Collin comes into the caern from the southwest.
Sepdet follows Soulcatcher herself, visibly straightening and lengthening her stride and in general adopting her most sober guise, like someone headed for a job interview.
You head into the center and heart of the caern.
Center of the Caern
Contents:
Soulcatcher
Grace
Obvious exits:
Rock Slab  Windy Spot  WaterFall  Steam Vents
By the steam vents, Collin heads back around the Wheel towards the waterfall to the east.
By the waterfall, Collin comes out from the warm steam to the west.
By the waterfall, Sparrowhawk heads into the center.
Sparrowhawk has arrived.
By the waterfall, Collin heads into the center.
Collin has arrived.
By the steam vents, Skye comes into the caern from the southw
Sepdet folds her arms as Paul and Seeker, as communicative as ever, emerge from the mists as well. She gives Skye and Grace a smile, however, although she looks a little tense. ~We’re going on walkabout tonight, pups. Get to meet a few of your kind, hear some stories, eh?~
Collin grins over at Skye and Grace, then looks at Sepdet. He, on the contrary, looks more excited.
By the steam vents, Skye heads into the center.
Skye has arrived.
Sparrowhawk whuffs softly, containing her excitement to only a buzzing of her tail.
Soulcatcher shifts, working slowly and smoothly upwards into the war form. When the Wendigo finally settles into the menacing hulk of a figure, he sets his two claws on the stone pillar. His touch is oddly gentle, even delicate, despite his form, and the stone immediately begins to glow brightly.
Grace stifles a cough; she looks like she’s seen better days, but is not about to collapse or anything. “What’s going on?” she wonders, confusedly.
Sparrowhawk wuffs softly. Tonight we run.
Sepdet tells Grace less than informatively, ~We’re going on a little trip tonight, Grace.~ Her gaze moves to the pillar as it begins to glow.
Despite being in lupus form, Skye seems uncomprehending of either Sepdet’s words, or any of those in lupus in addition. Unconsciously, he begins edging towards Grace, his whole manner betraying a high state of uncertainy and nervousness.
Sparrowhawk finally gives up trying to contain her excitement and flows up into true form.
Shrau-bak holds out her hand, and her collar slides down her arm to reform in her hand as a staff.
Collin mutters, “If anyone starts chanting ‘Prefontaine!’ , I shall kill them.”
Grace watches Shrau-bak’s trick. “Not bad,” she mumbles quietly.
Sepdet notices Skye’s dancing and tells him softly, “It’s okay, cub. We’re going to take a little walk tonight, meet some friends. Collin and Alexandra and I are going to run.”
You paged Soulcatcher with ‘You get an answering ring, so to speak. Nice, strong steady hand opening the other end of the bridge. Has ‘owl’ smells written all over it. :)’.
Soulcatcher’s amber gaze focuses on the shifting bright light of the stone, his lips pulling back from his razor sharp teeth as he concentrates. The light intensifies, and the air in the caern stirs sending little tendrils of the ever-present fog up in little drafts. The area around the stone seems to charge. To come alive, so that the hairs on the back of the neck rise. The Wendigo’s eyes finally close, and as they do the bright light explodes with an intensity that rivals day. After the flash, the light refocuses, a tunnel pulling out of the thin air and leading, apparently, nowhere. It shimmers there, waiting for the travelers.
Skye’s ears flicker at Sepdet’s words, looking only mildly reassured by this. Soulcatcher’s magic show causes the ears to go back, and the Galliard cub to take a few steps backwards defensively.
To the pack, Soulcatcher sends, though it is fairly broken–as the Wendigo uses most of his attention to focus the bridge–’run well, kola’.
To the pack, Sepdet whispers a promised, /back soon/, the shiver of excitement and tension palpable in the brush of her silent voice.
Shrau-bak throws a grin at Collin and calls out, ~After you, Cueball~
Collin oohos, “So you want *me* to go first? I see how it is. Trying to use me as cannon-fodder.”
Shrau-bak laughs and dives for the slide.
Sepdet raises a hand against the glare until her eyes adjust, then reaches back towards the cubs with one hand. “Come with us. Do not be afraid. Soulcatcher holds open the bridge, and our kin hold the other end open for us. Come and learn.” There is urgency in her voice, and she takes a step towards the swirling light, but looks back for Skye and Grace. The other older Striders pile onto the bridge behind Alexandra.
Grace looks skeptically at the strange glowing gate, but the confidence of the Elders convinces her. “Here goes nothing,” she says, as she takes a step through, wondering where she’ll land.
You paged the room with ‘@tel #1296 when you go. :)’.
Grace has left.
Shrau-bak has left.
Collin gos on through himself, as well, “Here I gooooo.”
Collin has left.
Pack> Sepdet says “Collin is so useful for comic relief. Silly idjot. :)”
Pack> Soulcatcher thinks you’ll need to convince Skye. :)
Pack> Sepdet sees this. :)
Thick brown-brindle fur covers this huge wolf in a bristly coat. That is, if it *is* a wolf. It looks like a wolf, but grossly exagerated. The large lupine head is at least two times more massive than that of a common wolf. Huge canines poke out of the menacing muzzle. Hulking shoulders give way to gangly legs that seem even too long for their oversized body and end in talons that would appear razor sharp. The eyes of the wolf give pause, shimmering slits of amber-gold.
Pack> Sepdet may use force, or getJoe to bite his ass. :)
Pack> Soulcatcher actually shifts. There, look now. :)
Pack> Soulcatcher can’t bite hsi ass and hold the bridge at the same time!
Whether it’s Sepdet’s command or Grace’s lead, Skye finally follows afterwards as well, nose twitching and ears going as he tries to take everything in in sensory overload.
Skye has left.
Skye pages: Sorry, Baron appropriated my computer to make a print out which of course jammed. :)
Sepdet gives Soulcatcher a touch on one shoulder as she passes after.
You paged Skye with ‘Well it was reasonable for Skye to panic. ;)’.
Somewhere in the Cascades(#1296RJ$)
Contents:
Skye
Collin
Shrau-bak
Grace
Ibis(#3107PIOceqr$)
The moonbridge deposits you nowhere near any caern, but rather on the snowy lower slopes of somewhere in the Cascades. A bleak frozen stream trickles down here from the spurs of one of the mountains, in a cleft halfway up the slopes, where white aspens huddle waiting for spring. On the opposite bank, a warm red firelight flickers, and shadowy forms move to and fro around an area cleared by a recent rockslide. There is a sound of hushed voices and soft drumming.
Pack> Sepdet hugs.
Pack> Soulcatcher | In a flash, the light is gone. The charge is gone, the air settles back, and once again silence and fog rule the caern.
Ibis is standing up at the edge of the smooth space of snow, circled by small black stones, which anchors the moonbridge to this side. It quickly fades and dwindles behind Sepdet’s feet, plunging them into darkness again.
Ibis gives them a curt nod. “Well come, children of Owl. Well met, children of Mist as well.” His beady eyes flick over each of them, lingering briefly and slightly irritably on Alexandra. “Your names are known. I am He-Who-Scans-Ground, uncle to that pipsqueak Sepdet.” He jabs a thumb towards Sepdet, then turns, hops the stream, and clambers stiffly and carefully up the opposite bank towards the firelight.
Pack> Soulcatcher likes being the Gatekeeper.
Pack> Sepdet grins. You do it well. :)
Collin looks over at Sepdet, “Pipsqueak? Wow. If I call you that, you’d hurt me. Pipsqueak!” he tries it out for size.
From afar, Skye sniffs. Panic? Healthy wariness, I think. :-)
Ibis makes a rumbling noise in the back of her throat, looking faintly pained, but amused. She starts heading towards the fire as well. Those in lupus smell human food!
Shrau-bak grins cheerfully at Ibis. ~Hello, Rhya! Missed me?~
Grace moves over towards the fire with little urging, feeling particularly susceptible to the cold tonight. “What the hell was that? Where are we?”
Collin mutters in response to Shrau-Bak’s question, “Probably not.” he coughs, “But we won’t go there.”
Ibis tells Grace simply, as they start walking, “Moon bridge. Lets us travel far. Usually only from caern to caern, but some elders can do it without need for a caern’s power.”
Skye follows along at the last, interest torn with wariness as he takes all the newness in.
From afar, Skye realizes he may be highly boring tonight. Don’t understand lupus, don’t know Garou, and no clothes to wear to shift. :-)
There are perhaps a dozen people sprawled here and there on boulders and treestumps tending the fire, talking in hushed whispers or with hand signs, or passing small wooden trays of food around, most of which seems to be of a Middle Eastern variety. There are also cold cuts and cheese, evidently brought in an ice chest which is perched up on a nearby large flat rock. A flask of some hot spicy drink is being passed around, and there’s even a tray of baklava. Three younger people (teens to twenties, a rather ordinary bunch of sweatshirts, parkas, and jeans) are drumming and dancing off to one side. Finally, one lean, silent gray wolf is sitting up on a rock, his overlarge ears and bony frame betraying a hint of the bloodline all here share. Several heads turn as Ibis leads the latest group of arrivals to the circle.
From afar, to the room, Ibis makes a few of them visible. Just a selection of the crowd to give you some faces to talk to. :)
Shrau-bak bounds into the crowd, her ears perked happily, her tail wagging…
Shrau-bak grins cheerfully at the old woman and gestures rapid-fire at her.
Old Guertie(#2627)
This tiny brown woman is so incredibly wizened and wrinkled it’s hard to tell where her crinkled linen garments (so patched and layered it’s hard to determine what they are–shirt, pants, dress, or what) end and her bony brown arms and legs begin. Her face is pinched and shrivelled like a dried fruit, and her eyes are pale and gray and do not seem to be focussed on anything. Her voice cracks and crackles, and her hands are deft and constantly moving.
Ibis(#3107PIOceqr$)
He-Who-Scans-Ground is a gaunt, beak-nosed, bespectacled old man with a shock of thinning iron-grey hair drawn back in a ponytail from his blotched brown forehead. His sharp jaw juts out from a long wrinkled neck, and wrinkles too work stories into his leathery face and add burdens around his deep gray eyes. He is garbed in a somber brown leather vest, an incredibly venerable oxford shirt that may have been white once, and dusty bluejeans; his gnarled feet are jammed into broad suede-strapped tan sandals. The hilt of a short curved knife protrudes from a sheath sewn into his vest, and a large amulet, an ebony Eye with a polished red stone set in its center, rests on his chest. His whispery dry voice is in constant dischord with his movements, trailing off as his eye seizes on something and his restless pacing halts, or else falling into regular, didactic tones as he jabs at the air with a finger or pokes intently at some nearby object.
Just now Ibis seems to be suffering from a recent injury; his right hand and the side of his face are burned and blistered, and he moves sparingly and stiffly.
Speaks-with-Bones(#2614)
A typical Strider lupus (if there is any such thing nowadays), Speaks-with-Bones is as aloof as any Red Talon, but his manner is usually one of cool disinterest rather than submerged rage. He looks like a perfectly ordinary timberwolf, albeit one with a few scars crisscrossing his salt-and-pepper pelt. His muzzle is just a little long, his ears just a little broad, his tail sparser than some, the only signs that he is heir to an ancient desert-going race.
Sinshan(#2596)
A well-groomed middle-aged man of obvious Hindi descent, Mr. Sinshan looks a little out of place in most Garou gatherings. His white beared is well-trimmed, his black hair brushed neatly, and he usually wears a dark business suit with a satin scarf for a necktie, pressed slacks, and patent leather shoes (which must be fetishes to stay in such good shape over the territory he covers). He even completes his ensemble with an expensive-looking briefcase.
Orn(#2597)
A tightlipped girl of perhaps sixteen, Orn looks like nothing more than a toughened hitchhiker. Her hands are as calloused as her leather jacket, army surplus camos, and Doc Martins. Her head is covered by a red bandana; black coarse hair hangs like a fringe around her shoulders. She’s usually carrying a satchel.
Bradley(#2584D)
A freckled, sunburned boy with sandy blond hair and a 49ers jacket three times too big for him, Bradley is a gangly thirteen year old whose hands and feet are rapidly outstripping his clothes. He’s cheerful, friendly, but rather shy in crowds, and tends to sit hunched up in a tangle of limbs, blue eyes slurping everything in. If a golden retriever were to don jeans and Air Jordans, it might look like Brad. He carries a thumb harp and tends to fidget with it, much to the irritation of his elders.
Grace takes a quiet seat near the fire, glad of the food and not particularly wary about the strange company. It will all become clear soon, and the food will probably go away when that happens.
From afar, to Collin and Sepdet, Shrau-bak signs <Hi, Rhya! I haven’t seen you since…2 years is it? You should come down and visit sometime. Lots of cubs could use someone to nudge them into thinking.>
Collin peers around at all the people, wowing. “Cool. Lots of people. And none of them worship me. New converts.”
Sepdet pads up to the fire and bows but does not interrupt quite yet, as the old woman seems to be talking right now, telling a story.
Guertie, poking at the fire, is muttering away as the group approaches. “…So the shopkeeper explains to Ooka Tadasuke that he overheard the student what lived upstairs, tellin’ a friend how it didn’t matter he was so poor he could only eat rice, because the smell of cookin’ from the tempura shop made his poor fare taste better ‘n that they serve in the houses of the daimyos. And the shopkeeper said the student owed him for the price of the smell!”
From afar, Grace knows that story! Wow, childhood flashback.
Skye gravitates towards the fire but looks with shy interest at the group of younger members present. His ears prick towards the sound of the story, though, and his attention becomes torn between the two.
Collin gets closer towards the fire, attention going towards Guertie. He grins, but he rubs his hands together as the heat from the flames washes over him.
Ibis begins introducing the others quietly as Guertie natters. Bradley, a new student of his from near Western Eye, a Galliard. Orn; nobody seems to know who she belongs to, but she showed up tonight; new cub. The girl grimaces faintly. Mr. Sinshan, a travelling salesman who runs a courier service with some Glass Walkers. Speaks-to-Bones, an old half moon. Old Guertie, evidently a theurge, currently regaling the group. And about a half dozen other names that swirl past. Ibis suggests you dig in until Guertie’s ready to notice you.
Shrau-bak grins and crouches, remembering this story very well.
Guertie continues, “Now people were gathering around listening to this, and what do you know, but judge Ooka scolds the boy right severely for stealing a smell! And he asks the student how much money he have.
“‘Only five mon, sir,’ says the boy stoutly, ‘But I broke no law!’
“‘To steal is to steal,’ says Ooka. ‘whether it’s a statue or a smell. The law is blind to the thing; it only sees the act. Take out your money. Drop it from your left hand into your right.’ And the onlookers all laugh–there’s quite a crowd gathering now, fillin’ the whole street.” She waves a bony hand at Alexandra, but doesn’t stop the stream of words.
Long distance to Shrau-bak: Sepdet blinks. You know this story? :)|
From afar, Shrau-bak nods. I used to have a whole book full of stories about this judge.
From afar, Shrau-bak loved this one, and the one about the price of eggs….
Long distance to Shrau-bak: Sepdet’s book doesn’t have that one.
From afar, Shrau-bak could tell the story, if you like.
“So the boy does it, ’cause Lord Ooka just had that way of his, and jingles his money. And Ooka nods to the shopkeeper. ‘You have been paid for the theft.’
“The shopkeeper say, of course, ‘But he didn’t give me the mon! I’ve got nothing from him!’ And Ooka say, severe and firmly, ‘You have received the sound of money for the smell of cooking. Go back to your shop, and stop holding up traffic, and maybe you’ll receive real money for real food.’ And that’s how Ooka judged the Case of the Stolen Smell.” Guertie looks up and peers, coming up for breath. “Oh. There you are. About time. All of you whelps running the path of death tonight?”
Shrau-bak grins and bobs her head at Guertie with a silly grin.
Collin snickers lowly, nodding. “And I forgot my Scooby Snacks.” he murmurs.
Grace laughs at the story, though it ends in a cough. She applies some kind of soup to her throat, to quiet it.
Ibis gives Sepdet a rather severe look and glances at Collin.
From afar, Sirocco chews on you greetingly.
Long distance to Sirocco: Sepdet hugs!
Sirocco pages: Strider foo going on?
You paged Sirocco with ‘Yep. Sorry. Mike can @emit Alex for ya, he said. :)’.
Sirocco pages: Jealous! Jealous! Why can kin participate! Jealous!
You paged Sirocco with ‘Cause you can’t race in the umbra. :)’.
Sirocco pages: Why can’t, even. HEY! Doesn’t mean she can be I duno, a cheering section, or something!
Skye’s muzzle and ears snap towards Guertie at her last little tidbit of info, concern beginning to radiate from him visibly.
Sepdet ventures with a thin smile, “No, only we are running.” She includes herself and the older Garou in a sweep of one hand. “I’ve brought Grace and Skye here to watch the beginning, and keep you and the other cubs company tonight, Old One. Perhaps they may learn from your wisdom.”
From afar, Sirocco should… NPC a Strider, damn it. ;)
Collin nods his head in agreement with Sepdet on that on.
You paged Sirocco with ‘Oh! you’re welcome to invent either a cub too young to go, or an old Strider not going on the running part of the rite. I’m leaving Skye and Grace with some of the STriders staying behind to trade and listen to stories tonight.’.
Shrau-bak grins and nods. (Great..it’s a row of striders, bobbing their heads like those annoying little desktop bobber birds)
Old Guertie gives a snort. “Well, Chicken here busted a wing, and he’s going to sit out this year. So’s the more the merrier. Did that bridge muddle your brains, puppy? You look like you got a flea up your ass.” This last is addressed to Skye.
Ibis settles stiffly beside the old lady, taking a stone as if it were a throne, and folds his long hands over his knees.
Skye does seem muddled, but more because he lacks any kind of defined communication prevalent among older Garou in lupus. He manages to convey frustration, chagrin, and finally settles on dropping to his belly and rolling over.
Collin uh ohs. “I think he’s *demanding* affection. How dare her.” He shakes his head.
Sepdet reaches down to give Skye a quiet scritch, grinning over at Grace. She mouths something in Garou towards the half-moon cub.
Shrau-bak says, ~Boy’s not learned any of our speech yet, Rhya.~
You whisper “~Please watch over Skye for me.~” to Grace.
Sirocco pages: Gimme a name that’d fit someone really young, really hyper-moving, and really fast. (kinda like, well, Blur, from the Transformers…)
Grace nods to Sepdet’s request. “I’m on it, boss.” She smiles a little. “Have a nice trip, or whatever you’re up to, okay?”
Skye jumps at the touch and quickly rolls back over, looking like he’s not quite sure how to react to that from his confusion.
Sepdet shakes her head. “Thanks, Grace.” She gives the Galliard a pat on his back, then stands as the shy Mr. Sinshan mutely holds out to her a bowl which appears to be full of blood and mud. Her face grows more serious. “Okay. Alexandra, you’re our oldest Galliard here. Tell Collin what we’re about to do while I get the gate ready.”
You paged Sirocco with ‘Kinetic? :)|’.
Collin nods towards Sepdet then looks to Alexandra, “Yeah. Like, clue me in and stuff.”
From afar, Sirocco meant a Strider-ish name. ;) I’m gonna toss a hyper know-too-much-for-her-own-good-and-won’t-shut-up cub at ‘em. ;)
You paged Sirocco with ‘Well it ALMOST sounds Egyptian. Um. Feet-in-Four-Directions? :)’.
Shrau-bak blinks as she looks around. The expression on her face says it all. I AM? Yipe! ~Tonight, we run the path at the border between the shadows all others run and the shadows only we know. We face the shades of what has been before, and what may yet come. If you falter or lose your way, you will be consumed by the shadows, so you must run, not with the strength of your legs, but with the strength of your heart.~
From afar, Sirocco will go with Kinetic or Blur, I reckon. Pick one? :)
The flames begin to blur towards blue as Alexandra speaks. The drummers continue their tapping, but everyone’s attention has turned towards the fire as Sepdet begins moving around it with the bowl.
You paged Sirocco with ‘Blur’s fine. :)’.
Grace listens quietly. It’s clear on her face that she’s very disappointed to not be part of this game.
Collin blinks at Shrau-Bak. He pauses. “Right. Run. Got it.”
Shrau-bak says, ~You must look within your heart. Find the signs you have seen of the coming of the end, and find the strength in your spirit that allows you to face those signs with a song on your lips and a fire in your eyes. That is what will carry you through this night.~
Collin scratches his head, “Sounds…lovely.”
Shrau-bak glances toward where Sepdet works, and looks back to Collin. ~You will find, as you complete the run, that the fire that carries you through the shadows will rejuvenate your spirit, will give you strength to face the sun in fullness and joy.~
From afar, BlurWannaComePlayCanICanI?
You paged Blur with ‘Yeah. @tel here.’.
Collin scratches at the side of his head now, “Mmhmm. Okay. Why do I have the feeling this is going to cause me one big headache? Naaah, couldn’t be.”
Ibis chimes in, speaking words ritually. “Tonight is the Rite of Feralia, where we run with our ancestors and listen to their words. Tonight, we speak of the death of the world, the destruction of all, and the hope we have for what lies beyond it.” Sepdet, as her mentor speaks, removes from the bowl a small, plain flat stone in her palm, and a few blue sparks skip across the back of her knuckles. She holds both out to Alexandra.
Sinshan speaks too, his accented voice low and soft and faintly nervous. “The bowl holds sap, mud, and the blood of the Striders. So we are one with Gaia, and she with us. The Apocalypse is nearly upon us. It is time now for each of us to speak of one sign we have seen in the last year, that warns of its coming.”
You paged the room with ‘Blur is one of the cubs over at the edge with Bradley and Orn, watching for now while Elders do Funky Shit. :)’.
You paged Blur with ‘#1296′.
Skye’s pale ale eyes watch the older Striders with interest, but tension crackles through his spindly form and thin fur.
Blur has arrived.
Collin turns towards the Elder Striders, now listening to the and watching.
You paged Shrau-bak with ‘You know the routine. Name a sign of the apocalypse, then pass it to Seeker or someone NPC. I’ll puppet them.’.
Ibis chimes in, speaking words ritually. “Tonight is the Rite of Feralia, where we run with our ancestors and listen to their words. Tonight, we speak of the death of the world, the destruction of all, and the hope we have for what lies beyond it.” Sepdet, as her mentor speaks, removes from the bowl a small, plain flat stone in her palm, and a few blue sparks skip across the back of her knuckles. She holds both out to Alexandra.
Sinshan speaks too, his accented voice low and soft and faintly nervous. “The bowl holds sap, mud, and the blood of the Striders. So we are one with Gaia, and she with us. The Apocalypse is nearly upon us. It is time now for each of us to speak of one sign we have seen in the last year, that warns of its coming.”‘.
Shrau-bak calls her staff back up to form a collar, and steps forward to trace a sign on the stone in the fluid from the bowl. ~I have seen the shadows crack and shatter, as if glass before a stone.~ She passes the bowl and stone to Seeker.
Seeker takes up the bowl, and he too names a cryptic sign, then paints the stone with blood from the bowl. It is passed from hand to hand, each older Strider naming something they have seen in the last year that bodes ill: quarrels between tribes, this caern or that fallen, metis cubs born, a Garou fallen to the Spiral. Sinshan murmurs in a low voice, “I have seen a river bled dry to feed a city’s thirst, and a desert flooded with oil and set on fire to burn.” He traces the strider glyph on the stone, then passes them to Collin.
Grace watches the procession of doom, wondering if she’ll get a turn or not, but she does not interrupt the ceremony.
As the Striders speak, a torn ragged line of blue like a second moonbridge begins to appear over the campfire. But this sheds no light, and looks cold and sharp like an opening in a broken glass window.
From afar, Collin sorries for the delay. you got to me when I was in the bathroom! :) Uhm, I’ve almost got what Collin would say.
Long distance to Collin: Sepdet grins. Okay. Give it back to me when you’re done.
Collin pages: Ah ha! I got it. The sabotage of Appletree farm.
Shrau-bak watches the opening, waiting eagerly to be set loose.
Collin looks down at the bowl quietly for a moment when it’s passed to him. His body is tense, posture one of slight unease, but he’s doing his best not to show it. He lifts up the bowl. “I’ve seen,” His voice is a little soft as he starts, but he lifts it a little so that the others can here a bit better. “I’ve seen a place of peace, a place of healing sabotaged out of greed, envy. A dream destroyed.” He hands the bowl back over to Sepdet.
From afar, Collin can be cryptic too. Neener.
Sepdet nods and adds hers with a sigh. “I’ve seen Garou attack fellow Garou as often as the foe, outside the rituals of challenge and respect. I’ve seen even the wolf-born wallowing in despair and self-pity like a homid.” She starts to offer the bowl last to Guertie, then pauses, cocking her head at Grace and Skye in case they have something to add.
You paged Collin with ‘Heh. :)’.
Grace sees her chance to pipe in. “I saw a Red Talon blow up a pile of Toxic Waste in the Wilderness, just two days ago.”
You paged the room with ‘Blunt and to the point. Ye gods, I’ve gotten even Collin talking bullshit. :)’.
Skye seems to have nothing to add, lying low to the ground, ears pinned to his head against the horrors the elders speak of.
From afar, to the room, Collin giggles.
From afar, to the room, Skye laughs.
Collin pages to the room: Collin was actually doing intentionally, jsut to prove a point.
Grace pages to the room: Hey, it’s only been two days. Give me a week to obfuscate it, at least. :-)
From afar, to the room, Collin laughs. :)
From afar, to the room, Shrau-bak laughs. I have an excuse, at least….I’m crazy, remember?
Blur pages to the room: Don’t let me do. Noone would understand it. I talk too fast. ;)
Long distance to the room: Sepdet laughs. Okay.
Sepdet dips her eyes at Grace, then looks at each of the runners in turn. ~Come now, into the black world of the restless spirits. As we speak, the whole of our tribe leaps over Stones like ours the world over. In a very short time, we will run the entire circuit of Gaia’s breadth. Whatever happens, do not stop, do not falter. Do not even wait for me–most of you know the way, and your feet are surer than mine. If you hesitate, slow, or veer from the path, you will be destroyed. Run as fast as you can, and go always westward.~ With that, she gives Guertie a salute, then throws herself headfirst into the gap and vanishes, Paul close on her heels. The nervous Mr. Sinshan follows, elegant suit vanishing to crinos form as he disappears from sight.

Ibis catches the bowl as Sepdet drops it, and sets it back in the fire. “And now we wait,” he says quietly, eyes gleaming across the fire as he studies the cubs with a sad old smile.
“Yah,” says Guertie, scratching an ear. “Someone pass me the beer, ah?”
Blur looks quite… aggitated that she’s considered ‘too young’ to go. Flitting from spot to spot, too fast sometimes to be seen, the young Strider mutters all too quickly to be heard, an odd mix of English, and… something else.
Grace asks, a bit wistfully, “How often do they do that? The marathon?”
Orn, the drummer, speaks sullenly. “Once a fuckin’ year.” She sounds none too pleased to be left out.
Skye’s ears slowly unpeel from his skull as time passes, and he comes back to his paws. He looks around those who remain with renewed interest, especially looking at Orn at her tone.
Grace smiles a little. “Well, as long as I’m not missing it forever, I guess I can deal. Next year, I’ll show ‘em how it’s done.”
Blur pops up suddenly near Grace. “We’llShow’Em,WeWill.FasterThanTheyThink.”
Ibis notes gently, “It is not simply a test–you will have that soon enough. It is a healing of heart and spirit. Our tribe sees much of the dark side of the world, and our wanderings lead us easily to despair. The great run of Feralia is a way to run together once more, as one, as we did before the Exile that drove us from our homeland. It strengthens the heart against despair for the coming year. At least, for those that survive it.”
Grace laughs, picking up energy from Blur. “You bet’cha.” She glances around. “So, what do we do until they get back? I didn’t bring any marshmallows.”
Old Guertie cracks her knuckles after finishing a draught graciously given her by the young redheaded lad. “Well. It’s tradit’nal for travellers what get together to tell stories, you know. ‘Specially Striders. Riddles, stories, dancin–pity all the strong bucks just left, we can’t have too much o’ that–but do you two whelps have stories, or shall I make Chicken here tell one of his?”
Blur turns and well, blips… towards Ibis. “DarkAndLight.LightAndDark.CirclesCirclesCircles.”
Ibis gives a resigned grimace at the enigmatic little cub’s mutterings. “What’s that, little one?”
If she’d ever /stay still/, one might catch a glimpse of an unruly mane of dark brown hair, capping off an round face, almost cherubic in its innocence and jocularity. A perpetual grin, like some hyper-active Cheshire cat, and dark, deep-set eyes that seem rarely to blink, and too often moving from one thing, to the next, to the next, to the next…. She can’t be very old, as she doesn’t seem all that big, but, running about and flitting about like some sort of frantic moth certainly isn’t going to help her with /anything/ except losing weight.
Skye takes a couple uncertain steps forward. Sur-vive it? His “words” are stilted, more emotion than clear-cut meaning.
Grace thinks for a bit. “Why don’t you guys go first, okay? Skye and I are still getting our bearings from the trip.” She looks at Skye, and back at Old Guertie, a bit pleadingly.
Blur frowns, but it passes (gee, surprise) quickly. “DarkLight!DarkLight!OneWithoutTheOtherCannotBe!”
Orn says gruffly, “They’re just tryin’ to impress ya, kid. Be cool.”
Ibis, ignoring her, nods. “Well. Yes.” After a moment more’s study of Blur, he announces, “Our little one wants a story of light, since we have been speaking of dark. I will do my best.”
Ibis taps his spectacles with a fingertip, his soft whispery voice barely raised above the crackling of the fire. “Boegiboe travelled over the High Hills. He carries his staff in one hand and in the other he carried nothing.
“Where are you going so wild and free, Boegiboe?” asked Aksark the Gypsy.
“I am going to fill my other hand,” replied Boegiboe.
“I can tell you where you can find fennel flowers and willow herbs, forget-me-do’s and baby’s beard, plants to make yo well, plants to make you sleep, plants to heal the wounds of your mind. Those will fill your other hand.”
Blur seems, just perhaps, momentarily content, and settles into a half-sitting position near Ibis. Still, she can’t seem to sit wholly still.
You say “No,” said Boegiboe. “That’s not good enough for me.” And he went on his way.

“Some time later he cme to the Great Howling Gulf, and beside the Great Howling Gulf he came across Lod the Conjurer.
“Boegiboe!” cried Lod the Conjurer. “Where are you going so free and fast?”
“I am going to fill my other hand,” replied Boegiboe.
“Stay here with me,” said Lod the Conjurer, “and I will give you dice and cards, disappearing rabbits and magic snakes, multiplying handkerchiefs and clever hoops–they’ll fill your other hand.”
“No,” said Boegiboe. “That’s not good enough for me.” And he went on his way.”
You say ” Some time later he came to the goblin castle that stands by the rich red lake. And there he met Haza, the fat maid, who is forever carried about by her servant.
“Boegiboe!” cried Haza. “Where are you going so free and furious?”
“I am going to fill my other hand,” replied Boegiboe.
“Stay here with me,” replied Haza, “and will give you rubies and riches, gold and silver, pearls and amethyst, pleasures and purchases… They’ll fill your other hand.”
“No,” said Boegiboe. “That’s not good enough for me. And he turned to go, but as he did so, he heard a splash followed by a crash, and there was Alger Ot, the famous augur, who had fallen off the high wall and was struggling in the castle moat.
“Help!”cried Alger Ot. “I can’t swim!”"
You say “Boegiboe rushed down to the moatside and stretched out his hand. The sage grabbed it just as he was about to sink for the third time, and Boegiboe pulled him to safety. Alger Ot shook Boegiboe by the hand, and said most earnestly, “Thank you, friend.” As he did so, Boegiboe looked down at his hand and said, “That’s good enough for me.”
And from that time on they travelled together.”
You paged the room with ‘That tale is from Brian Froud’s _Goblinology_, slightly rewritten.’.
Skye suddenly chuffs with an approving sound, then looks surprised at himself for doing it.
Grace laughs, with only a hint of cough this time. “I like it.”
Bradley gets a big grin on his face, looking over at the wolf. “Yeah.” He pulls out his thumb harp and starts playing. “Cool.”
Grace asks, expectantly, “Who’s next?”
Old Guertie jabs a thumb at Grace. “One of you, sing for your food, eh? Asks us a riddle, tells us a story, or at least ask a smart question.”
Ibis says mildly, “I think young Rahotep is taking his turn first, Madam. Give him a moment.”
You paged the room with ‘Or rather, give Grace a moment to think of one. ;)’.
Brad plays a lonely, wild twanging piece on his thumb harp vaguely reminiscent of the blues. It evokes the sound of trains churning through the night, of a horse’s steady trotting on dusty dirt trails in the back-country, or the unflagging pad-pad-pad-pad of a lone wolf travelling through unfamiliar territory. The surly ahroun (what else could Orn be) gets to her feet with a predatory spring and begins to dance again, speaking volumes more with her ribbon-lean body than she does aloud.
Huh?  (Type “help” for help.)
Grace looks a bit relieved to be interrupted. She pays little attention to the next person, wracking her brains for a memory.
Brad doesn’t tell a story though. The young boy just plays, and leaves it to someone else to design a song to fit his wandering tune.
You paged Blur with ‘Feel free to ‘improv’. :)’.
From afar, Blur could, but its longish. Maybe about like yers. :)
You paged Blur with ‘Do it. :)’.
Grace looks a bit nervous, as her turn comes. “Well, I don’t know if I really have a story. I’m not a singer, or a dancer, or a teller of tales. I’m more of a runner – actually, I prefer rollerblades, but it’s the motion that counts. The wind, blowing in your face, blowing away your fears, your connection to the world. The speed, the danger – that feeling of oneness with the world, reacting to its imperfections as they slide by, no time for your conscious mind to understand them. Always faster than the time before, never sure what will happen next. That’s the feeling, I guess, that I think of when people talk about Gaia. It’s not a place to be, it’s a way of being. Not thinking, or feeling, just moving – one with the wind.” She stops, noticing everyone looking at her. “I should write a poem about it someday.”
Guertie sniffs. “Yah, but you’re no Galliard.” Still, her eyes twinkle, and she shoves a plate of baklava across the fire. “We all feel the pull of speed, pup, even those of us that don’t run so good anymore. It makes the blood sing. Tells us we’re still alive.”
Grace grins. “I may be a simple girl, but I know I’m alive. Sometimes, that’s more than I see a lot of people with complicated lives knowing.”
From afar, Blur has a really goofy story. But its appropriate for a ‘kid’, really. Extremely. Blur’s a goofy cub, anyway.
Ibis’s beaky nose dips in a thoughtful nod. The music keeps going, Bradley and Orn listening and telling a wordless story all at the same time.
You paged Blur with ‘Oh, go for it. :)’.
Blur pages: Oh hell, I can’t find the darn book… Grrr.
Old Guertie flaps a hand towards Skye. “Sep-spit said the boy was a Galliard. Can you change, kiddo? Should, what they call it, strut your stuff, aye.”
Long distance to the room: Ibis embarasses the poor Galliard cub while you look. :)
As if the sound is dredged up from his cold toes on the snowy ground, Skye tips his head up and howls. It begins low and unsteady, a voice uncertain of itself, then builds and grows in disononnant, counterpoint harmony to Bradley’s wordless song. There is a wild longing in the sound, an uninhibited reveling in the freedom inherent in the more traditional song. It’s interrupted by a single gulp of air before going on, then dying away into silence. It is only then that he seems to recall himself, and Old Guertie’s questions, looking awkwardly embarresed by his “outburst” and perhaps by something else.
Grace grins. “Atta boy, Sky!” She’s gotten caught up in the celebratory atmosphere, for sure, despite not feeling that well at the start of the evening.
Old Guertie leaaaans back on her rock and just kinda looks at him, nose wrinkling. “Well,” she says finally. And then she smiles, yellow-toothed. “Well, that’s a good start. From the heart ‘n belly.”
From afar, Skye was typing his pose when you skewered him. Hmph. :-)
You paged Skye with ‘Sooorry. shoulda kept my mouth shut. :)’.
From afar, Skye giggles, then snugs. No, it’s okay. Just made me have to think. ;-)
Skye struggles with the unfamiliar ears and tail and legs to communicate, trying to answer the Old One. Two-leg. No covering. New.
Grace watches, and figures it out. “Oh, he doesn’t have his clothing ritual done yet, and he’s shy.” She looks about. “I won’t laugh at him, though.”
Blur’s nose wriggles, as does much the rest of her, and she hops up, clearing her throat. Perhaps this onset of a ‘story’ from the Hyper One, could cause cringing in expectation of just how /quickly/ the words will be spoken.
Old Guertie nods sagely to Grace and Skye. “Thought as much. Hunh. Guess the lad’s too shy; not like old Guertie hasn’t seen it all in her day.” But she settles down again, giving Blur an expectant grunt as the wriggling cub launches.
Skye seems to disagree at Grace and Old Guertie’s conclusion about him. He searches to convey his real reason, finally getting it out in a shiver. Cold.
“Despite the early hour, crowds surged through the lower city of Moenjo-Daro. Traders rubbed shoulders with weavers, camel drovers, and bronze-smiths. Sellers of incense, fish, and carved stone amulets called out their wares. The smells of sweet almond oil and spices mingled with steam arising from cauldrons of boiled rice to hand like a fragrant vapor in the air. An elephant, its harness decked with bells and its hide painted with spiral chalk patterns, shuffled through the crowd….” Wait, wait, wait. Is this the same kid? She’s almost entirely still, except you can almost see those wheels turning in her mind, retrieving images and churning them into words.
Ibis blinks like his namesake and folds his hands gravely to listen as the kinetic cub animates.
Blur says “As she climbed the hill to the upper city, Amris of Banhara ran one hand over her face, leaving a smear of sweat and dirt, rust against her honey-dark skin. Amris’s servant, Parva, trudged beside her, trying not to stare. Parva had never been this far from Banhara’s hills before, and she was nervous in so large a city. Amris paused at the top of the hill, and beyond the pair, the Indus River, source of Moenjo-Daro’s richness, stretched flat and sullen…”
Blur’s voice changes pitch a bit, “”Perhaps such a big river always look fat and lazy like that,” said Parva.” then the voice shifts again, back to before, “Amris shivered in the morning heat. Her mother, the Priestess, had often told her, “All things end in their proper time, my inquisitive daughter. Animals, crops, people, even the most skillfully constructed buildings. But the River… /the River is a Mother who never dies/….” Did she now look up on a dying river? /A Mother who never dies/… Moenjo-Daro, Jewel of the Indus Valley, might be the center of the civilized world, but it was dying now, drowning in mud and scavenging in its own wreckage. If Amris could not find the answers she sought here, where else was there to turn?”
Ibis sighs, muttering something about a different river, and casts a sidelong glance at Guertie. Evidently the name of Monjo-Daro is well-known to both of them, to judge by their solemn expressions.
Blur says “Amris wondered if her sister Istara might not be right after all and the problem waas not one which could be solved by human efforts. Istara was truly their mother’s daughter, and followed the ways of the Mother Goddess. AMris had never been able to give herself over so completely, which was why she abandoned her Priestess training for a post with the King’s water-engineers. Even as a child, she was always asking questions. Why do people die? Why is the white bull sacred? Why does it rain here and not there? Too often, she felt as if she continuously straddled two worlds, the spiritual and earthly, truly belonging to neither…”
Ibis clicks his tongue gently.
You paged Blur with ‘Oop. I’ve done all I can with Collin and alexandra, and should bring them bck, after you’re done. Rush a wee bit. :)’.
Grace listens, quiet and attentive, to this foreign tale.
Blur says “A messenger came suddenly to Amris, though, bearing news that her mother was gravely ill. /The River is a Mother who never dies/….. Amris answered him, “I will go at once.” Traveling towards Banharra, they finally reached the Hakra river. Amris shuddered to see how the water level had fallen even further. A picture flashed across Amris’ mind — Riders forcing their horses across the river, the water beaten to a froth under galloping hooves, spears upraised, voices roaring out the cries of hunting beasts, faces contorted with ferocity. She blinked and the image was gone. She reached her mother shortly after, and as she cried out to her, “Banhara is in danger! The river falls…” her mother simply rasped out, “The River.. summon… the river…”"
Set.
Blur pages: Is trying!
You paged Blur with ‘no worries. I just set the exit audible so they can listen.’.
Blur says “Her mother died, and the river fell further. Amris tried to reconcile her feelings. Her beliefs. Pain brimmed up in her heart until it could hold no more. Something burst open, swept through her, each wave rising higher, tearing her, flooding all her heart and her being. She gave herself over to the hot bright pain. All her questions vanished, flecks of ash on the torrent of her grief. She went to the river side, and sank ankle-deep into its silt. Her body rocked with sobs. She did not care if the Chariot People saw her. Tears streamed over her face. More and more came, falling unchecked into the river. Another prescence, immense and powerful, filled her. It grew until she towered over the river plain, until Banharra and the northern invaders shrank to the size of children’s toys. She mourned the dying, silt-choked cities, drowing in the River which had once brought them life. “Ah! Moenjo-Daro and her fair daughters! Pearl of the River, gone forever!” Woman and Goddess, mother and daughter, she wept for the world’s pain, for the passing of an era, as surely as she wept for her own.”
Blur says “Something splashed against Amris’s knees. Startled, she looked down. The river, which had pooled sluggishly around her ankles, was rising in waves, surging upward, as if to meet her tears. It was no longer placid and green, but silver-bright, laced with foam. Now it swirled around her thighs, every moment reaching higher. As she wept, mingling salt water with fresh, she reached out one hand and gathered the river’s power. Just as she had opened the doors to her own grief, now she opened the floodgates of the river.”
Blur says “The river plain sparkled, cleansed. She felt emptied and full, exhausted and powerful beyond imagining. And charged with a vision beyond the moment. Even without the invasion of the Chariot People, the Indus Valley cities and all their glory had passed. She knew that now, felt it in the texture of her bones. As great Moenjo-Daro sank into the mud, so would tiny Banharra fade and be forgotten. A new wind had come sweeping down from the mountain passes. Rivers would rise and cities crumble, giving way to the fierce barbarian energy, but Banhara’s people, like the resilient hill farmers, would find a way to survive. /Only the outer form changes/.. Amris thought with her mother’s voice. Amris curled her fingers around her seal and felt the tight, intertwined hairs. Mother and daughter… life and death. The death of people and cities, but never of the magic of the heart.”"
Finally, the cub intones, in all solemnity, “This, this shall endure forever.”
From afar, Blur sowwies, sheepishly. ;)
Grace mutters, “Gives a whole new meaning to the phrase, ‘cry me a river’.”
Ibis says quietly in the silence (for Bradley’s soft playing died long ago, and the sound of Guertie snoring may only be the fire’s soft hissing), “I have walked the earth over the bones of Mohenjo-Daro, and I have heard its bells which no living human hears. I have tasted salt tears in the river’s freshwater. Our brother Sinshan comes from that land, and perhaps some of that blood flows in his veins. So many worlds must fall, before the end. What will rise again from the ruins we cannot say.”
Long distance to the room: Ibis now does a handwaving pose, so the runners can come back, unless someone has another pose? :)
From afar, Blur obviously didn’t go with the kid’s story.
From afar, to the room, Skye’s good to go.
Long distance to Blur: Ibis liked it but wonders if the others followed it. Wow. I’m impressed, actually. :)
From afar, Blur left out parts, obviously.
And so it goes. Tales are traded, wise and strange, humorous and serious, human and Strider. Ibis reports his recent adventures in the dry hills behind the Bay, discouraging a pack of young Dancers bent on setting the spring fires with a salamander spirit; Guertie tells an improbable tale about a ferret and a goose and a king; Ibis and Bradley trade riddles for a while in a ritualized manner which is obviously some sort of standing challenge between pupil and student. (Ibis wins with one about a mirror and a rose.) Suddenly, as the night starts to wear thin, the ghostly tear in air above the fire begins to sputter and toss out sparks. Dark figures begin to hurtle out.
Long distance to the room: Ibis . o o O (Or rather, they will, once Collin gets back from the Little Striders Room. :)
From afar, Blur condensed it (I know, not enough) from a short story she read.

[[ And here's the grown-ups' log ]]

Path of Painted Stones(#1294RIJ$)
Obvious exits:
Back to the GM Nexus  Out to the ONS room
Collin has arrived.
Shrau-bak has arrived.
Shrau-bak leaps onto the path and lets herself slide back into the familiar tread of the shadow path..
You paged the room with ‘How…appropriate.’.
Sepdet contorts and blurs as she is transformed.
You shift into Crinos form.
A gale of voices smites your ears as you land in a puff of gray dust…the ground sways sickeningly. The older Garou are bolting into a run the moment their feet strike the path, howling encouragement to those behind.
You paged Shrau-bak with ‘It’s different this year. There are no shadow-doubles of you behind yourself. But the ghosts are loud and thicker. And there are many MORE Striders visible now.’.
Collin bolts off into a run, taking the earlier words to heart and going right down the path. He keeps focused, shifting on his way.
Shrau-bak sings as she runs, a wordless howl of encouragement that rises like her battle song.
Behind are more lithe black bodies, fourlegs for some, two for others, a few with wings–you seem to be caught in a river of Striders, all hell-bent for some dark destination in the far distance, arcing across the bridge through this black stretch of sky.
Shrau-bak pages: Emit stuff as usual?
You paged Shrau-bak with ‘Yes, except NOT Strider dead anymore. That was a mistake I’m trying to correct. Dead Striders don’t show up here. (Though kin can)’.
From afar, Shrau-bak nods. Gotcha.
Collin grumbles, ~It’s time like this I wish I had that running gift.~ And he does run, and he dosn’t seem to be eager to stop, either. He keeps his attention focused ahead of him.
A girl stumbles across the path, sobbing pitifully, her body looking as if it ran into the wrong end of a chainsaw. “Please, mister…can you find my Simba for me?”
Sepdet looks like she’s using hers to keep up, for her bad hip is no better than last year. Her feet stumble now and then on the sand. Paul, against orders, stays right beside her to make sure she doesn’t fall. Sinshan is already gone from view, and the old Lupus is pounding off in the distance. ~Don’t stop!~ Sepdet calls back, as the first ghosts start to intrude on the wild ride.
Collin pages: Is she in the way? Or can Collin get around her succesfully? :)
You paged Collin with ‘You can try jumping. Alexandra posed it, ask her. :)’.
From afar, Collin didn’t know that. Okay.
Shrau-bak boots it down the path, leaping over ghosts where they cross her path, her song rising in a peal of joy. <joy? Yes, joy.>
A pack of jackals paces alongside the path, calling out names as they run…names that cause twitching in the ears of some of the other Striders running past, and a redoubling of their pace.
Collin swerves around the Ghost, nose wrinkling as much as it can in Crinos form. ~Sorry. I break for no man. Or little girls.~
A dusky dark cloud of gray mist starts to settle on the party as they run. It seems almost as if they are running in place, for the fog doesn’t move, yet it stays with them.
~More fog?~ Collin growls. He tries to keep his breathing even, tries to stay foxused. So far, he’s having some luck, but there’s no telling if that’s going to last.
Shrau-bak’s song follows her, like a beacon in the fog. She’s lost to everything but the road and the joy of the run.
Seeker howls a challenge to the winds as they roll onward, the powerful ahroun starting to pull ahead of the group as well.
The fog begins to thicken ominously, but still now and then a skeletal hand will break through it, reaching out like a treebranch across the path to slap the Striders’ noses; or face will cry piteously beside the way, or a spectral figure will loom out of the darkness, chanting softly. Some beg, some cajole–some few speak prophecy. “Beware the Round Tower!” one calls. “Its foundations crumble.” And another: “The ships spill blood upon the shores. Watch for death on the seas!”
From afar, Collin watches Collin mentally tick them off. “Round Terror? Return of King Arthur? Yeaah, that must be it.. Round tower, round table. COOL.” ;)
Collin listens to the words, but he doesn’t let them stop them or slow him down. He picks up what he can, and keeps running. He mumbles, ~Oil spill? Naah. Couldn’t be.~
There is a sudden beating of wings. The shapes of birds whirl and peck at the ears of the leading garou, whirring in a great roaring rush overhead. They make no cries, but they almost blot out the world ahead…their bodies aren’t quite solid, but they’re not mere ghosts either. Soft forms thud off shoulders, muzzle, face, chest as you plow through them.
Shrau-bak is almost thrown off her stride by this….birds are….a distraction. After a stumble in her stride, she sings louder, as if her voice could drive them away.
Collin does too, caught off guard by the sudden assault from above. It’s clear he wasn’t expecting it and only quick thinking keeps him from stumbling over his own feet and getting himself in serious trouble.
It seems for a moment as if this barrier will baffle the beleaguered Striders, but suddenly you break through…and the beating wings have driven off the thick gray fog, although not the spirits that claw and howl beseechingly forever along this lonely path in the darkest parts of the world. The way begins to change now–it’s cold, burning cold, and the wind that howls across is like nails of ice driven through flesh. Through the churning terror of the dead faces, you can see macabre dancing lights, blue, green, pale white. It’s beautiful, exhilerating, awful.
You paged Collin with ‘If Collin has any dead human relatives, he should see one of them, sooner or later. :)’.
From afar, Collin wells. His Grandfather was a Fostern Strider who he never met. :P Other than that, his immediate family is alive. Hmm.
Shrau-bak howls in ecstasy at the new part of the route, ~We grow closer…~
You paged Collin with ‘No Strider. Striders don’t come back when they die. Others do.’.
Something that looks like the ragged form of a bone Gnawer pounds along beside Alexandra for maybe half a mile. He is bloody and torn to the bone in some places–there’s no way he should still be moving. He howls an eerie counterpoint to her song.
You paged Shrau-bak with ‘A packmate of your Mom?’.
Running, running. Collin manages to keep going, listneing to the voices of the others as they call out. His attention gets transfixed, though, even as his feet keep moving, by a youngish looking fellow who acn’t be much older than Collin himself.
“Hey, bud.” The other, shadowy teenager mumbles. His hair is sticking up in the wrong places and he looks somewhat mauled, his chest and hips slightly caved inwards. Collin breathes, “T-Tom?”
Shrau-bak has reconnected.
From afar, to the room, Shrau-bak curses Microsoft. Argh.
Sepdet and Paul are joined by a white figure of a Garou, blood dripping from wrists and throat. ~Betrayers. You let me die. You did not defend my love. All of you–all–~ The pair of Whispers falter but do not look back. ~Go to sleep, Wayfinder,~ Sepdet calls back regretfully. ~Gawain misses you.~
Long distance to the room: Sepdet posed the dead spirit of one of your mom’s packmates keeping pace with you, Sharu.
Shrau-bak pages: Ow…perfect. :)
Shrau-bak calls out, her voice DEFINITELY shaken… ~Time…to rest…Tipper…please….~
Collin doesn’t stop, nope, not for the ghost named ‘Tom’, though he does turn his head to watch him as he runs. Tom, on the other hand, chases him to keep up. “Hey, don’t you run away from me, man! You left like that *last* time.”

Collin just swallows, tongue lolling out. He doesn’t say anything.
Eventually the ghosts of friends are torn away, unable to match Strider speed. There is a kind of stillness in their wake; a feeling of goodbye, at least, if not total closure.
A flash–a terrible vista. Suddenly great pinnacles of desert stone stab up on all sides like spears, and beyond, a shrouded plain opens up below as if seen through a gap in the clouds. The vision is unimaginably remote, but clear. A circle of a hundred, maybe a thousand striders are dancing, leaping, twisting in a macabre ritual around a central fire which blooms a deadly shade of black and green. Some now fall writhing; others take their place. A huge coiling serpent unfolds from the depths of the vast bonfire. A trio of Striders–an old lean man wearing a red bandana, a hawk-faced powerful woman, a squat jolly-looking man betwen the pair–call out something wordless. As the vision is ripped away and recedes rapidly behind, a voice like nails on slate (only infinitely deeper and more foul) hisses : “THE CHALLENGE IS ACCEPTED…”
Sepdet mutters something that sounds suspiciously like, ~Fools,~ the silent, cold word picked up by the wind and tossed behind her.
Shrau-bak snarls in response to the vision, running harder.
Collin jerks his head up at the vision, eyes widening. He seems distinctly unnerved by the vision. His running gets a little stiffer for a few seconds, but he forces himself to smooth out his stride.
Voices begin to cry, rise and fall, like gulls, scattered on the wind:
The First Tribe falls at last, pride leading it beyond…
Their Shadow takes their place, whom none will follow…
Finn’s children are lost in memories of glory and drunk on their own blood…
Fenris’ children swallow and choke on the moon…
The Children scold like old mothers, voices lost in the gathering storm
The Sky-watchers raise their eyes to the heavens above and miss the signs beneath their feet
The White winds howl and tear and rage against everyone
The Wolf bites off its own foot
And Deep Ones sink into the Depths, lost none know where
Where are you going? And Where are you going? And who are you running from? You will be alone…alone…have you lost your way? Where are you going?
The words beat like hammer-blows, demanding, querelous, mocking.
Shrau-bak howls defiance, not bothering to answer in words, but in emotion.
A few howls in the distance–other Striders unseen, behind, ahead–call out defiance. Some without words, others with sharp replies. ~We go to our doom!~ ~To where the road takes us!~ ~We know the way to the Apocalypse! We have glimpsed the way beyond!~ ~Get ye gone, empty shades!~
Growling, Collin darts forward, taking longer strides than before. ~Away from here, that’s for one.~
Sepdet calls her own, with blind assurance: ~We’re going home!~
The shadows begin to break like the tatters of clouds at the end of the storm. You are over vast, deep water. Whitecaps glisten in moonlight far, far below. You are skimming across the sky at a breakneck speed, the path underfoot almost invisible now, but the black ghostly form of the Striders thundering along its length stretching off into the distance ahead like a dim earth-anchored shadow of the Milky Way.
From afar, Collin is surprised he made it all the way through without having to go. Thank god. It’s been cool. :)
From afar, Collin even got to make up something on the fly to add to Collin’s BG. Yay. :)
Long distance to the room: Sepdet sorries for dragging it out a bit tonight; trying to give the cubs lots of time for stories. ;)
Collin pages to the room: That’s perfectly cool. I had fun. :)
Shrau-bak has partially disconnected.
Shrau-bak howls defiance at the world, joy in the running, pleasure in existence on this side of the shadow.
In the distance, like a tiny jewel, the blue fire of their own painted stone glimmers. Now the path is clear. It is made of stone upon stone, fire upon fire, one after another. As you leap each one, other Striders leap to fill the space behind. Now you are running over land again, and catch glimpses of other clearings, other fires, other caerns–shadowy figures dancing, a plunging waterfall, an island in a misty lake, a bonfire set right on top of a huge flat skyscraper in the middle of some city, and a hundred more visions of other places where Striders have walked and left their footprints on the world. Miles fly like inches.
That’s a lot of places! Collin stares, wide eyed as the places ‘pass by’, so to speak. His tongue is still hanging out the side of hsi muzzle, and he seems a little, well…awed would be the best way to decribe it.
The fire burns brighter and brighter. Your feet are numb by now, torn to shreds on the rushing wind, but never have you felt more speed and freedom. The home stretch looms.

[the runners jump back]
Pack> Paul is back, supposedly available.
Pack> Sepdet awwws and hugs lots. Poor dear. We’re JUST coming back through the fire, landing where all the people are. Join if you want. I posed Wayf’s ghost trailing us for a whiel, and Paul keeping Sepdet from falling, cause she’s not too steady. :(
You paged Shrau-bak with ‘You two go first; Sepdet’s slooow. :)’.
Somewhere in the Cascades(#1296RJ$)
Contents:
Shrau-bak
Speaks-with-Bones(#2614)
Blur
Skye
Grace
Ibis(#3107PIOceqr$)
Orn(#2597)
Old Guertie(#2627)
The moonbridge deposits you nowhere near any caern, but rather on the snowy lower slopes of somewhere in the Cascades. A bleak frozen stream trickles down here from the spurs of one of the mountains, in a cleft halfway up the slopes, where white aspens huddle waiting for spring. On the opposite bank, a warm red firelight flickers, and shadowy forms move to and fro around an area cleared by a recent rockslide. There is a sound of hushed voices and soft drumming.
Shrau-bak leaps through the gap, still howling defiance and joy as she flies to land in the snow.
Paul has arrived.
Paul looks you over.
Dropped.
From afar, to the room, Ibis . o O (Actually Paul’s more likely to drop Sepdet, considering who’d be carrying whom tonight)
Sepdet rolls hard and flies into a rock with a little thud. Ow.
Collin has arrived.
Somewhere in the Cascades(#1296RJ$)
Snow on the higher slopes, less down here, this is a lonely stretch of aspen woods halfway up the mountains, which loom up like great massed shadows of cloud against the crisp night sky.
Contents:
Speaks-with-Bones(#2614)
Collin
Paul
Shrau-bak
Blur
Skye
Grace
Ibis(#3107PIOceqr$)
Orn(#2597)
Old Guertie(#2627)
Speaks-with-Bones lands rather more gracefully, but immediately pads over to a water bowl and begins to drink, ignoring the others almost entirely. The party of runners seem to have worn their feet fairly badly on the long road, wherever they were.
From afar, Seshemw’s been ‘helping’?
Seshemw pages: Or did you not need hands in the helping?
Sepdet shifts back down to her usual shape, Glabro, and pushes herself to hands and knees, sinking into the snow where she tumbled.
From afar, Seshemw is trying to craft an entrance pose (What I’ve got runs like :looks like he’s made the last legs of the Run with a little more bulk than he’s used to, on all fours and crinos.)
You paged Seshemw with ‘Sure, Paul’s been helping. Well. At least keeping a close eye on her.’.
Collin appears with the others, slowing to a halt and then just sitting right down in the snow, going back to his homid form. He just sits there, peering at the snow. Wow. Pretty snow.
You paged Seshemw with ‘and running alonside her ready to grab if she wobbles. I figgered he would. (He knows she’s not as steady-footed as she was before that fight with Jerran’s banes a year or so ago)’.
Seshemw looks like he’s made the last legs of the Run with a little more bulk than he’s used to, on all fours and crinos. More a stagger out and flumph than the usual launching from the fire or anything equally theatrical.
Skye gets to his paws once more as the adults return, but hesitates, quivering with indecision as he looks on at the contingent from “his” Sept.
Grace raises her cup, as the procession stumbles back. “Hail the conquoring heroes!” She laughs.
Seshemw kindof lies there in an undignified heap. ~Is there a cup to raise a toast with?~
Collin shoots Grace a look, then just grumbles.
Sepdet wipes the blood off her hands from rapidly-closing wounds and looks around. “Well,” she says, panting. “I…hope…you left us some of…Sinshan’s cooking.”
Orn tosses the flask of hot spiced (and hard) cider towards Seshemw without replying.
Seeker comes in too, without even looking particularly winded. Damn ahrouns.
Seshemw makes the effort not to waste precious liquid, and gets a paw out to get the flask. And shift down to jaws and lips a little better suited to properly enjoying the drink.
Seshemw contorts and blurs as he is transformed.
Seshemw shifts into Glabro form.
Paul props himself up enough to take a long drink, smiling wide and seeming exultant even if he might drop in his tracks at any moment.
Collin mutters, “Tom, Tom. Major Tom. Where are you.” He hehs, once, “Along with opening some fucking pod bay doors.”
Collin pages: Evil Puppets, dead people, winged dogs, mists..” :)
Collin pages: This has been one crazy week for poor Collin. :)
You paged Collin with ‘we’ll sober him up at this rate. :)’.
Collin pages: Impossible! ;)
Shrau-bak rumbles in amusement at Collin. ~We don’t have Hal here, though..~
Paul moves to pass the flask along to the next lucky winner and lets out a long, contented sigh. “Another year and the almost longest road behind us.”
Collin will take the flask, then, since it’s being held out. After some swallows, he’ll pass it on. “We don’t have a Hal *yet*. I’m sure we’ll get a Hal someday, though. Just you wait. Mark my words.”
Paul says sagely as he rests his head on the backs of his folded hands, “-WE- won’t. Walkers might, humans might. There’s no way I’m humping the Odyssey around on my back though.”
Collin grins at Paul. “Portable Hal?”
Grace looks very confused. “Who the hell is Hal?” She’s clearly lacking in her old movie lore.
Sepdet misses the references, but is entirely used to it and isn’t phased one bit. She glances over at her former tutor briefly with a wistful, >well< sort of look written all over her face for a moment, then sits up, turns back to Old Guertie and the cub brigade. “I hope you had a peaceful night,” she says softly. “Hear some interesting stories?”
Collin points at Grace, “You haven’t had the Pod Bay Doors opened. Man, that whole thing was freaky.” H could be talking about the movie, or he’s talking about Feralia. It’s probably not hard to figure out which.
Grace gives Collin a look. “Never mind. You’re too loopy for me.”
Shrau-bak chuffs cheerfully.
Paul lets his eyes drift a little more than half shut. “I need to learn fast running sometime soon, but not just yet. I’ve got fast-enough-running.”
Paul says “And Collin? You’re not too loopy for me. But I’m getting on in years, and I’m going to lose track of all the new and cool things to say and what the hell they mean any year now, I’m sure.”
Old Guertie wakes up (yes, she did fall asleep there) and shakes a fist. “Someone shut the door. You’re letting in a draft.” Indeed, sparks are still flying from the rent in the air, although they’re not hot and don’t burn. Sepdet ruefully and painstakingly rises to her feet, whispers a few soft words, and carefully “zips it” closed with a fingertip. “Feralia is over,” she murmurs softly.
Paul breathes, “No losses in our pack this year. Good omen.” Still smiling like a fiend, if a tired fiend.
Sepdet looks around quickly, only now remembering to count heads.
Skye, forgotten, settles quietly back on his haunches, and seems almost happy to be so. His decidedly jackal ears are delicately alert though, and there’s no mistaking that he’s taking everything in.
Paul apparently put himself on watch-for-losses duty when no one was looking.
Collin looks up at Sepdet, then says, “Yeah. Actually looks like everyone made it back?” He looks around. “That was just…wow.” he hehs.
Shrau-bak smiles and wuffs cheerfully at Paul.
Sepdet looks rather spooked, actually, until the dour wolf who has already reclaimed his rock for a sleeping platform growls down unexpectedly. The Man stepped off at the Wheel. Errand for Zosho.
Sepdet nods and looks back at her own contingent of Striders. “Right. Well. Old Ones, and cubs, an’ Semsw–” this to her uncle Ibis, “It was good running with tribesmates this year. But my Gatekeeper’s waitin’ up for us, and maybe we should be getting back before it’s dawn and the bridges close for the night. Skye, Grace, everyone, grab any food you want before we go.”
Shrau-bak holds out her hand, and her collar slides down her arm to reform in her hand as a staff.
Grace laughs. “Been eating all night, boss. Don’t need any more than that.” She stands, looking ready to leave. “C’mon, you slowpokes.”
Shrau-bak barks cheerfully, ~Ready to roll, Sensei.~
Paul doesn’t so much stand up as blur into the slim fourlegs of his lupus shape and rise.
Skye seems ready to go already.
Collin struggles back to his feet. “Right, right.” He snags a piece of meat.
Shrau-bak yips in amusement. ~You realize Mike will have a spread waiting for us at home…~
Blur has long since returned to her hyper self. “ByeNowGoodByeLater.”
Shows-the-Way thinks that is why I’m bothering to stand back up.
Shrau-bak stands behind the cubs, ready to catch any who lag behind…
Grace waves to her new friends. “Hey, come by and visit sometime! See you next year!”
Shows-the-Way has disconnected.
From afar, Skye’s fading.
Old Guertie snorts. “Be good, puppies, and get that boy some clothes!” But Bradley and Ibis, at least, give cheerful goodbyes, while the old lupus offers his own aloof blessing from afar. Ibis sets up the moonbridge–he doesn’t appear to be using a pathstone, so gods only know what age the old bird is–and sends them on their way. Joseph lets ‘em through, and back we are, in the land of mist and mud.
You paged the room with ‘@tel #3534 folks. :)’.
You paged Skye with ‘We’re done anyhow. :)’.
Shrau-bak has left.
Long distance to Skye: Sepdet just had to check and make sure Quiet and Narg were okay with a moonbridge in their laps. ;)
Skye has left.
jumpgate(#3534DJe)
By the Waterfall
Contents:
Skye
Shrau-bak
Quiet
Wolf-Bear
Shadow Eyes
Obvious exits:
Steam Vents  Center  Windy Spot  Up the Trail
Dropped.
Collin has arrived.
jumpgate dropped Collin.
Grace has arrived.
jumpgate dropped Grace.
Collin pages: Oh lovely. Wolf-bear. :)
Quiet sees who is coming from the bridge, then follows Stormcloud.
From afar, Ash cleverly decides Stormcloud’s accident is why she missed Feralia!
Shrau-bak lands and howls with sheer pleasure.
Wolf-Bear starts along the trail up to the rim of the valley.
Wolf-Bear has left.
At the center, Rends-the-Dark twitches her nose at Hope, looking puzzled for a moment, and then turns to watch the Moonbridge.
Sepdet staggers in with a passle of tribesmates, the older ones looking rather footsore, the cubs looking equally tired and rather more confused. Seeker wanders off without a word, and Joseph, after closing down the shimmering doorway of light (and probably checking on packmates), heads back on his rounds for the night.
Skye is somewhere amidst the group of Striders. At arriving back at the more familiar Caern, he subtly relaxes, shaking out his thin fur.
Sorry, that player is not connected.
Collin comes in behind Sepdet and with the others, looking pretty exhausted. He rubs his eyes, “Ow. Fuck. I am so going to hurt tomorrow.”
Shrau-bak grins. ~Dinner and flop space at the dojan.~
By the steam vents, Ash lopes down from the ridge and hesitates, looking over her tribemates. Then she shakes her fur out; she looks tired, although not as exhausted as the runners.
Sepdet grins down at Collin, face peaceful, body looking like she got pulled through a keyhole by the nose again. “Yah, but what a view, eh?” She looks over at Skye and Grace. “Sirocco and Cooper have food back at their place, if you wanna follow Sparrowhawk home. I…” She blinks twice, thrice, and looks down uncertainly at the no-moon Strider. “You okay, Ash?”
Skye seems content to be where he is, rather than taking Sepdet’s suggestion. His nose twitches delicately at the air, noticing unfamiliar scents which he tries to untangle.
Shrau-bak contorts and blurs as she is transformed.
Shrau-bak shifts into Glabro form.
By the steam vents, Ash yawns, snapping her jaw open and closed. Messenger me to the birds and the beasts. Shoo, shoo, stay away. I’m just tired. How was it?
Shadow Eyes yaps a welcome to the returning Garou.
Alexandra smiles at Grace and Skye. “It’s a family tradition. We always set up a spread for when folks get home from the run.”
Collin hehs at Sepdet, “Yeah. It reminds me of a little song, but I think I’ll spare people’s ears andn ot sing it.” he snickers.
Sepdet looks down at her feet as if making sure they’re still there, then back at Ash. “Good. Very different.” She glances around at the non-striders in the area and doesn’t elaborate, except to say, “I think it was a good omen this year. The sky was very clear, by the end of our run. I think we outran some old shadows which needed to be shed.”
At the center, Hope looks over at the edge of the Caern, where Stormcloud left, a mark of concern on her face. She then looks over the the small crowd now in the Caern, and then over to the Fury near her. She seems torn.
Quiet starts along the trail up to the rim of the valley.
Quiet has left.
Collin nods to Sepdet, saying to her, “I’ll take your word for it.”
Alexandra grins and reaches out to ruffle Shadow Eye’s ears. “Good to see you, bro. Mike asked me to tell you he’d like you to look over the plans sometime this week.”
By the steam vents, Ash shivers and bites at an itch. Excellent, good.
Alexandra nods to Collin. “She’s right, you know. It was good..VERY good…this time.”
Shadow Eyes nuzzles Alexandra. I will, yes.
At the center, Rends-the-Dark has turned a puzzled look back onto Hope. ~You seem… familiar, forgive me…?~
Skye looks at those around him, then fades back, his small form blurring in the mist closer to the valley walls near the waterfall.
Sepdet looks curiously and a little concernedly at the Strider no-moon, but doesn’t pry. “I think…I think I’d better take Siro’s offer, before I decide to turn in right here.” She smiles at Grace wanly, then crouches to address Skye softly. “Feel free to stay here and take in the good air. Or come. You should be able to follow all our scents.”
At the center, Hope turns to Rends, “Sorry, I was a bit distracted. I think we’ve met at least once. I’m Hope, no moon cliath of the Furies.”
Alexandra smiles and heads upslope, leading the way to food.
Shadow Eyes sniffs the air, smelling the newcomer’s scent.
Collin grins at Sepdet some, then runs a hand through his hair. “Yeah. Food. Good. Mmn.”
At the center, Rends-the-Dark steps a bit closer, sniffs some more. ~My name is Rends-the-Dark. A Warrior… The Furies.~ She looks lost for a moment.
Grace looks very tired, as the night and her recent illness is catching up to her. “I think I’d rather just go back to the farmhouse, if you aren’t offended.”
By the steam vents, Ash heads back around the Wheel towards the waterfall to the east.
Ash comes out from the warm steam to the west.
Ash has arrived.
Alexandra nods and murmurs gently, “Not offended at all. Things happen.”
Sepdet nods to Grace. “That’s fine. Will catch you later; ‘s been a long night for us all.”
From his spot, Skye’s eartips swivel a little at Sepdet. Will stay. Overlaying the simplified sentiment is a reluctance to follow along, awkwardness alleviated by hanging back.
Ash licks her nose, looks at Alexandra. ~Could I share the food? I’m hungry and I’m used to tribe tonight…~
At the center, Hope nods to Rends, “Hi there. Um..”
Alexandra smiles and nods to Ash. “We’d be delighted to have you.”
Sepdet gives Skye a silent salute, falling into the habit too easily of using body language for wolves, words for twolegs, then turns and starts picking her way after Alexandra. Sepdet hides it well, but not quite well enough–the road they travelled tonight has taken every ounce of strength and will she owns. Her feet move like clumsy ghosts up the trail.
At the center, Rends-the-Dark looks away for a moment, as if embarrassed. How many Furies are there now?
By the waterfall, Ash follows Sepdet.

[leave caern, into woods, move move move, Ken Crossing ]

Alexandra taps Sepdet quietly on the shoulder and whispers, “Sensei? Would you like to borrow my staff?”
Sashi makes a noncommital sound in the back of her throat at Alexandra, that stubborn warning noise that the elder is trying to keep face again, and stumps off.

You open the door and walk into the main room of the dojan.
Dojan(#3940RJ)
Contents:
Sirocco
Mike Cooper
Obvious exits:
Back Door <bd>  Exit
The door closes quietly behind you.
Alexandra comes in from outside.
Alexandra has arrived.
Mike Cooper grins at Sirocco. “Yup. And with at least 5 minutes to spare, even.”
Sirocco laughs, and grins at Mike. “I told you I wasn’t going to bet with you.:’
Ash comes in from outside.
Ash has arrived.
Alexandra forgets her tiredness and soreness and swoops to gather Sirocco in her arms. “It was wonderful, sweetheart!”
Collin has arrived.
Sashi slumps in looking beat. She eyes the pair of lovebirds with a bemused small smile, and demands of Mike, “Water.”
Sirocco says “I bet it was! I was just telling Mike, can’t you people come up with some sort of Rite so that we kin can at least watch or something?”
Ash slips in, looking tired, but not physically exhausted like the others.
Mike Cooper chuckles. “Right away.” He skips the bottled stuff and pours from a chilled clay pitcher, into a mug that’s large enough to be easily held in two hands.
Sirocco looks you over.
Collin flops down after he arrives too, saying, “I am going to saw a log tonight. Oh yes.”
Sashi shakes her head at Sirocco apologetically, and dodges answering by burying her face in the bowl. She then sinks down to floor level, propping the bowl on knees and hands, and begins to lap at it dog-fashion.
Alexandra cocks her head in thought and looks to Sepdet…then murmurs, “We’ll talk about that later, sweetheart…I remember how frustrated *I* was…”
Sirocco shakes her head, “I’m mostly teasing… You know that.”
Ash circles for a moment and then crouches down, looking a little uneasy.
Mike Cooper smiles at the stranger and offers, in Kemetic, <Did you watch the fires, sister?>
Alexandra beeps Siro gently on the nose. “Tease with one of the things that made me frustrated before my Change, sweetie? You’re an imp!”
Sirocco chuckles softly.
From afar, to the room, Sirocco grumbles. Bedtime for kin. Lemme pose my way out.
Ash looks up after a moment and then says softly, “I had duties to the land and my totem. There is a problem…” She drops her gaze, staring at the ground again.
Long distance to the room: Sashi hugs siro. Night night.
Sashi raises dripping face from her draught, licking her lips, and peers across at Ash again, face thoughtful.
Mike Cooper hmmmms… “Anything we in the auxiliaries can do to help?”
You paged Skye with ‘They make a convenient ledge for him to drape across. :)’.
From afar, Skye laughs.
Sirocco leans up to kiss Alex gently, “I’ve got something approximating an interview in the morning, so as much as I’d love to stay up with you all, I should really try and get some sleep.”
Ash runs her nails lightly across her thighs. “I think he should have gone to you in the first place.” Her voice is still soft. “Perhaps the Elders will want him to deal with it still; my alpha only says we should guide the beasts away.” She looks up. “There is food, please?”
Mike Cooper smiles and gestures to the tables. “Enjoy.”
Sashi looks up, distracted by Sirroco’s words. “Thank you so much, ma’am, staying up for all of us. Good luck tomorrow.”
This young woman has skin the color of chocolate milk, with large, tilted black eyes and high cheekbones. Her hair gently curls past her shoulders, pulled back behind her head in a ponytail. She is of average height for a woman, but so thin that she seems taller. She is dressed entirely in black– flexible black jeans and a sweater, along with curiously soft-soled black shoes. There is something uncomfortable about the way she moves, especially in the company of other people, as if she does not belong there. Despite this, her dark eyes take in everything around her.
Collin nods to Ash, “I heard a little about it, I think. The icky area in the east?”
Alexandra pouts at Siro and returns her kiss..with interest. “I’ll be up soon, sweetie…If you have an interview, don’t wait up for me, ok?”
Mike Cooper cocks his head curiously (odd, seeing that from a human, eh?) and queries, “Icky area?”
Sirocco laughs gently, at the Elder’s words. “No need for the ma’am… and I wish I could continue to stay up. But… ” She smiles up at Alex and nods, “Its hopefully something I can be… useful in. /If/ I get it. You know how the normals are, though, right schools this, right people that.”
Ash looks at the table unhappily and then rises to her feet to stand in front of the food table, staring at it. Her voice seems to come from a distance. “Poisons. Poisons burned.”
Collin nods to Ash, mumbling, “Yeah. That’s great. *Burn* the toxic stuff.”
Alexandra smiles at Siro and whispers, “I know, sweetie…but I also know you can wow them, if you really want it.”
Mike Cooper hmms, figuring out that Ash is probably not homid, and steers her toward the sashimi and bulgogi. “I think you’ll like these.”
Mike Cooper says “Burned poisons…shit…nothing like spreading a cloud of death…where at?”
Sirocco smiles, and shrugs a little. She reluctantly pulls away from Alex, and pauses near Sashi briefly. “You’ve have to visit more, Elder, when I’m not having to get sleep.”
Ash pokes at the fish suspiciously and then tries some. It seems to meet with her approval, and she takes some more. She turns to look over her shoulder at Sepdet for a moment.
Sashi stares over at Ash, absorbing her words without speaking, listening with a strained and tired expression . She stirs as she realize the human was adddressing her. “I must,” she tells Sirocco softly. “Dream well.”
Alexandra smiles and murmurs, “She will be, sweetie….she will be…”
Mike Cooper hmmms, visibly calculating, “Are the poisons all burned away, do you know? Or is the ground still soaked?”
Sirocco notes back to Alex, and to Sashi, quietly, since the Elder is still fairly close by. “Tell me more about this converstation tommorrow?”
Ash says flatly, “Every bird entering the area dies. Is dead. The animals who go there die.” She shifts her gaze to Collin.
Alexandra nods quietly.
Mike Cooper nods…So ground must still be contaminated. How long ago did the fire happen?
Sashi dips her eyes at Sirocco, although with a warning in them–the Strider elder stays nowhere realmside for long.
Sirocco nods to all as she heads out, and slips away from the gathering.
Sirocco slips through the back door.
Sirocco has left.
Collin tells Ash, “If I can find Sassafras, maybe she can I can head up there and warn some more animals away and see about doing what we can to clean it up. Sassafras has that Gift.”
Ash gulps some more food, swallowing it almost whole and then finds a table to crouch on. “How would you clean it up? We have been warning, my pack and I. They are beasts, they don’t learn terribly well. More is always useful.”
Mike Cooper nods. “Good idea. Sass is that cute little Gnawer, right? If she can warn the animals away, maybe I can track down some of my old gear and test the ground…find out what’s in there. I can only test for military chemicals, but things like bug spray are basically the same.”
From afar, Ash did not mean to sway the scene like this, my apologies. :-( I wanted to hear about the run.
You paged Ash with ‘That’s okay, Sep’s interested in what Ash’s found out anyhow. Yikes!’.
Long distance to Ash: Sashi has been typing a lot all night-GMing two scenes simultaneously–and is glad to let others do most of the talking for a bit. ;)
Alexandra says “Uh…Mike, I think your military stuff is still in the bus. Unless you brought it in recently. Will it still be any good?”
Sashi mutters to herself, “Maybe could get fog to hide area from animals…”
Mike Cooper nods. “Or something to make the animals uncomfortable enough that they want to stay away?”
Mike Cooper gestures in response to Alex, <Military stuff’s designed to put up with all sorts of crap. It’ll still be as good as it was when I got it.>
Long distance to the room: Sashi . o o (This must not be US army surplus we’re talking about)
Ash lowers her gaze. “Moon Otter is intelligent, but I am not sure how much any of the wild ones will want more of the man that destroyed the land there. True, it was Stormcloud’s challenge, Stormcloud’s choice, but that it was there in the first place, existed in the first place…”
Collin shakes his head at Ash, “No idea. Really. I’d need to take a look at it first. This kinda stuff isn’t my specialty.”
Mike Cooper’s eyes light up. “Hey..isn’t Paul ex-military, too? I could give him the gear…he’s better able to go into someplace like that than I am…”
From afar, to the room, Mike Cooper . o O (never said it was all that useful to start with, notice…only that it’s still as good as it was when it was issued)
Sashi scowls slightly at the mention of Moon Otter, evidently not her favorite Garou any longer. But private feelings are kept private. “I did not hear how that Challenge went, I fear; I was making arrangements with Uncle and Guertie for tonight.”
Alexandra says “If they wouldn’t like more men there, then it’s better if we go in. And if Mike or Paul can teach me how to use the stuff, I could do it, even.”
Collin glances at Ash, apparently not goin to say anything on Stormcloud’s challange until she’s said something first.
Ash scratches her thighs again. “Grace and Collin were there, I think? Stormcloud chose to burn the liquid they found because it was like a liquid he’d seen before.” Her gaze goes to Collin, and she adds, “The battlescar he once had healed has returned to him.”.
Collin shakes his head, “I wasn’t there for that part of it.” he turns towards Sepdet, “He invited me to come with him and show him where I’d killed a Wyrm-Tainted fox. We were looking around when a creature bit me and knocked me out with some kind of poison. After that, I woke up and his hand was gone, and he demanded I leave, and basically, pretty much made it clear that he’d rip me to shreds if I didn’t.”
Alexandra eeps quietly.
Mike Cooper says “Hmmmm…sounds like he was just a little peeved.”
Collin says “Just a little.”
Sashi rubs her eyes. “So much for the peaceful Talon of Gaia,” she mutters. “So. There’s a poisoned area. Cleansing’s been tried, I assume?”
Ash shakes her head. “It is not spiritually tainted.” Her mouth twists unpleasantly. “Weaver, I don’t know.”
Alexandra icks. “Doesn’t have to be tainted to be poison, though..”
Sashi considers this, then shakes her head. “Sometimes I wish I could wave my warper at things and have her tell me what’s going on. But that’s cheating.” She looks over at Alexandra and Ash. “This isn’t in my territory, so I don’t want to make a call. I guess it’s Ash’s. But sounds like Alexandra’s got something we could try, anyhow.”
Mike Cooper mutters softly, “Wouldn’t mind having a friendly warper on tap, though…”
Alexandra says “Well…I know what Mike has..and it should at least tell us if it’s military chemicals, or anything like them. But cleaning them up…all I can think if is that it’ll take lots of shovels and muscle. Just like that fire on the bawn.”
Collin seems to be dozing.
Long distance to Cari: Sashi mentions Chloe IC and no one leaps on her throat. That’s always nice. ;)
Ash looks frustrated. “What would your authorities do if this happened? Your experts?”
You paged Cari with ‘| Sashi considers this, then shakes her head. “Sometimes I wish I could wave my friend warper at things like this and have her tell me what’s going on. But that’s cheating, I suppose.”‘.
Mike Cooper says “They’d send in bulldozers and dump trucks and scrape away the ground until they dug up all of it.”
Sashi scowls. “Leaving a trail of destruction all the way there. Is this in Wolf Woods?”
Alexandra nods. “Yeah. Leaving a trail of destruction. And destroying the very thing they claim to be saving.”
Ash’s gaze is cool. “And where do you put what has been dug up, whether it be us or them?”
Sashi looks over at Collin, a note of urgency creeping into her voice. “Is this place within the bounds of the Park the humans have set aside?”
Collin huhs? He shakes his head, “It’s up in the mountains, isn’t it?” he comes a bit more awake. “I was’t there, and I haven’t been there yet. But we were, like…east. In the mountains and stuff.”
Sashi’s expression fades. “Oh. I see. That’s not good either.”
Mike Cooper says “What they do, is they put it in cans and take it to someplace where they can either treat it or burn it with a hot enough fire to destroy all the poison, not just throw it into the air.”
Collin says “Right. Where I was, that was, like…in the mountains. But I have no idea where the thing happened with Stormcloud went on. I left before that ’cause Stormcloud sent me off, and there’s no way I am going to stick around and, like..you know, try to talk him down. Not when he’s trying to beat me with a stump.”"
Ash sighs and curls up like the wolf she was born as, resting her chin on the backs of her hands. “Maybe the theurges could summon some sort of purity spirit.” Her tiredness is tinged with frustrated defeat, though, and she has a long shadow.
Alexandra nods and murmurs, “That would be best. Mike’s got the best solution for human techniques, but we need something more.”
Sashi looks over at Ash with a gentle, if weary, smile. “That might be arranged. Ask Shadow-of-Blood; I will go and do my own asking.” She gets up and moves towards the table, snagging some of that sashimi and other good stuff…and one more drink, for the bowl is quite well drained. “Goodnight, all. I’ve got to rest.” Without explanation (her sleep habits on the wrongside not being much of a secret these days) she walks through the mirror, crinos reflection lingering behind her.

Sashi(#3589PJceq$)
You see a thin-boned, 4’9 brownskinned waif who tends to creep into out-of-the-way corners, making it her policy to stay ignored or unnoticed in public places. She huddles in a huge gray wool kaftan, its fringe falling nearly to the toes of battered old moccasin boots; beaneath the wrap she is wearing an undyed canvas tunic and brown leggings.
A mop of tangled kinky dark hair is mostly wrestled into tight cornrows and one thick braid falling behind her left ear. Unremarkable African features– a broad nose, full lips, oval child’s face now beginning to fill out to that of a bony young woman–would be easy to pass over, were it not for the odd way she tends to watch everyone and everything around her with the same curious intensity.
Her accent is a bit irregular; mostly she is softspoken, preternaturally solemn, with a faint coarseness to her voice that’s deep and growly like a gruff five-year-old’s. Every now and then she reverts, or rather, remembers, the thick street accent and slang that was hers during younger days.
The most observant will note her odd habit of avoiding mirrors.
Contents:
TarotDeck(#2414IJVe$)

[[And Sepdet is so tired she gets herself stuck in the umbra, giving me an excuse for a brief check-in with Sepdet's favorite mage ]]

You walk through the woods down the path, eventually coming out in the middle of the Umbral representation of a small town in the real world.
Umbra: Kent Crossing(#2748RVh)
Obvious exits:
Construction Umbra  Faint Path  Western Road
You paged Chloe with ‘Theeeere. Now @tel here.’.
You paged Chloe with ‘#3589′.
Chloe has arrived.
Chloe looks you over.
Dropped.
The silvery fog around her shifts, strange and fluid–and then she falls through it, a disorienting sensation. The Umbra swirls into place around her, anchored by a familiar figure. Chloe immediately grabs up both of her hands in a strong grip.
Sashi stumbles badly as she lands, only held up by the mage’s arms. ~What the–~ her throat rasps; evidently she doesn’t even know she’s in homid right now. She blinks like someone startled out of a deep sleep.
“Easy, easy…” The woman’s voice is fluid, oddly familiar and alien at the same time. “Shh…” The hands shift, moving to the girl’s shoulders and gathering her in, sliding about her in a solid embrace. “You’re safe now. Safe.” She adds a rumbling growl, a mother-to-cubs sound.
Sashi manages not to flail until she’s gotten her bearings, then stares at Chloe, rather wide-eyed. The Strider looks utterly and completely exhausted. “Chloe?” This much finally registers, along with a startled glimmer of a smile. “But I was going t’find David…”
Apprehension flashes into Chloe’s dark eyes. “Has something happened?” She backs off half a step, one hand touching the Strider’s cheek.
Sashi stares at her hands as she clutches Chloe’s shoulders, belated panic flashing across her features. “Something happened? I’m human!”
Chloe blinks. “You’re okay, Hope. It’s all right.” Confusion flickers across the delicate features.
Sashi shudders and twists right then and there, struggling back into the strange wild features that she seems most comfortable wearing. Only then does full lucidity seem to sink back into her tired face. “Whoah. I donno what just happened, Chloe. I was just comin’ back across, and changin’, and it looks like I didn’ do either somehow.”
Sashi contorts and blurs as she is transformed.
You shift into Glabro form.
Chloe backs off a step, swallowing as the change takes place. “Take it easy, okay?” She watches the Strider a little apprehensively, now.
Sepdet seems to have relaxed again. If anything, she looks limp, footsore, and sleepy. “Okay.” She gives her head a slow shake. “That run must’ve tired me more than I thought. How are you?”
Worry creases the girl’s face, and she reaches for Sepdet’s shoulder again. “I’m fine… would you–I mean, do you want to stay with us?”
Sepdet gives a soft chuckle. “I look that bad, eh? No, I’ll just go back to my corner of the umbra. It’s not as dark as all that. ‘Sides, Brian-rhya thinks I’m weak enough without seeing me when I’m really run dry.”
Currently the moon is in the waning No Moon phase (18% full).
Chloe shakes her head minutely. “He… hasn’t come home, tonight.” She swallows, studying the ground. “It’s why I was worried.”
Sepdet blinks again. “Oh.” She searches her memory and comes up empty. With a sigh, she offers, “I haven’t seen him myself, but I’ve been–away–tonght. I bet he’s just gotten held up with work. There’s been some weird stuff going on.”
Long distance to the room: Sepdet . o O (Away. Like, the Phillipines, India, Jordan, Morocco, the Azores, Bermuda…)
Chloe nods minutely. “Come back and have a cup of tea?” she asks softly. “Maybe we could talk, tomorrow…”
Sepdet shakes her head. “Maybe we can talk now,” she says, more firmness creeping back into her voice, if not her step. She takes the offer by starting to plod in that direction, feet obviously having their own mind about what the exhausted Strider needs. “There’s something in the area that’s sucking people’s spirit-energy dry, trapping them on one side of the Gauntlet or the other. I hate to think what that’d do to you.”
Chloe’s brow furrows, and her expression darkens. “Something feeding on spiritual energy? Has anyone… /seen/ this thing, or does it just *happen*?” Both hands clasped behind her back, she matches the Garou girl’s strides.
Sepdet’s strides are easy to surpass tonight, for once. “Yeah. Mouth–I mean, Collin–said there was a sort of gray mist that came down around him and Casper before it happened. They were knocked out. Weird dreams. When they woke up they were drained.” She’s too weary to keep the vague horror out of her voice; it’s obviously, as far as the young theurge is concerned, a fate worse than maiming to be trapped realmside. “I don’t know any more than that yet, unfortunately.”
Chloe presses her lips together briefly. “Is it only preying on Garou, or does it touch spirits as well?”
Sepdet shakes her head. “That I don’t know. It’s only just started the last few days. But my pack tracks the spirits close to the caern fairly closely; we’ll see if they start disappearing.”
Sepdet adds grimly, “It happened on the hill where you go to ground.”
Chloe lets out a hissing breath through clenched teeth. She walks along in silence for a time, thinking. “I’ll look through some books,” she says quietly. “Perhaps talk to the others, to see if they might have ever seen anything like this.”
Sepdet nods glumly. “Good. Give your people th’ warning, anyhow. I’ll let you know when I pick up more on this.”
Chloe echoes the nod, and then slips a hand into Sepdet’s. They walk the distance to the tavern, sneaking into the apartment through its mirror.
Sepdet seems more than usually grateful for the touch, though she doesn’t push it. She’s a little more careful on the way through the mirror this time, wincing slightly at the unusual sluggishness.