2019.03: Moot
| Moot | |
|---|---|
| March 2019 Moot for Sept of the Enduring Spirit | |
| Players | Those performing the Moot Rite: Brooke, Bryan Osborn, Journey, Ryla, Sigryd, Troy Jameson |
| Location | Caern Ampitheater |
| Prp/Tp | Monthly Moots= Previous-Next |
| Spheres | Gaian Garou |
Moots are held on +bboard 79 as of June 2018. This is a compilation of the posts for March 2019.
The Fool
There is a buzz all around the Sept that is gathered in the Caern Amphitheater. So much talk of recent travels, the Legendary Realm being spoken of on many lips. The time draws near for the monthly Moot to begin, anticipation is high with what tales will be sung tonight, and what deeds will be reported. Out into the middle of the circle walks a petite woman, her blonde hair swept up in a French twist, black rimmed glasses on, and dressed impeccably well.
Eyes moving around as she takes in the crowd before a higher pitched voice speaks. “The litany says ‘The First Share of the Kill for the Greatest in Station’. Now I am all in favor of giving respect where it is due. Our Elders have bled and died for us to be here today. The question is, why should they get the first share?"
She begins to walk around the circle a bit, like a lawyer making her case to the jury. " The kill could be literally food, or money, or glory, or weapons, or whatever it is left at the end of the battle or quest. If they just sat back and told us what to do, watched from above, why should /we/ let them have the first and best share of it?"
The woman, this month's Fool holds up a hand in a fist, "Shouldn’t the warriors then that have bled, and done the hard dirty work get the first choice? They are the ones with the strength, not just physically, but of bravery to risk their lives for all of us. Letting them not get the first share is insulting.”
The young woman adjusts her glasses on her face and looks around to them all with a strong questioning look.
(Written by Ryla)
Opening Howl
The Master of the Howl should be entering the circle, but in her stead this month is a much taller man, with blonde hair appears. He has an easy going manner about him, and once at the center of the circle he raises a hand to quiet the crowd.
“Welcome everyone of the Sept of the Enduring Spirit. We gather to restore our totem for Bear, and to honor all that have come before us. Spirits, bear witness on this great night, as our Moot begins. Join in our ever widening circle!” He takes a slight step back and lets loose a loud Howl of greeting, throwing back his head, and gesturing for the crowd to join in.
He sees the young Cliath woman, The Fool for tonight waiting there, and holds up a hand. “Darlin', take a deep breath for me.” He breathes in, real deep through his nose, lets it out through his mouth. A wink to her and he begins again, his voice loud and ringing out through the Amphitheater. “Let us remember all who have fallen, keeping them alive in our memories, and in our hearts. Let their deeds and sacrifices keep us steadfast in our goals.” Names are read. Deeds remembered. Howls to remember and lift up ring out. After sharing of the renown earned by those of the Sept in the past month, the man turns to The Fool with a comical smile. “Now, where were we? Oh right -- the Litany.” He begins reciting the litany, and takes time with each one up until he gets to the part The Fool was questioning.
"Alright, new girl. Your turn. Let's take a look at this thing. The First Share of the Kill Goes to the Greatest of Station. For the wolves? Makes perfect sense. Their Alpha pair would need the strength from the kill for protecting the rest of the pack. . Applying that to Garou though, let's look at it this way. Have you ever been in an airplane?" He looks around to the audience and makes the gesture to go along with what he says next. "You know how when the stewardess is telling all about the masks and how they tell you to put yours on first? You know why? Because if you don't help yourself, you sure as hell can't help anyone else because you’re gasping for breath and turning purple and the little gremlins on the wing are going to go after the weakest first." He points out like he is pointing out a window at the gremlin. "But you put that thing on YOU, because you’re the one in charge, and you can get all your loved ones safe too.
They fought and bled for us all when they were younger and proving themselves. They should be the ones who decide who gets what. And having dibs on the stuff doesn't mean they will take it. A wise Elder will often give up his share to someone else who needs it more." He pauses for a moment, pacing a step or two. "I mean, consider if Mr. Ahroun jumps in and takes the Klaive, when he already has one, but he gets the first pick because he made the most kills. If the one of the Greatest Station were to have first pick, MAYBE he’ll be an asshole, or maybe he knows enough about all this stuff to hand it out to someone who needs it.”
Bryan nods once, then grins. “Okay. Check it out, June Breeze, Ragabash Child of Gaia, yoinked a Fetish off a Dancer, pocketed it, told no one.. la la la.. that Fetish corrupted her, and she Danced inside of a year. True story, Louisiana, Sept of the Placid Wave, Mid seventies. Not always just about a gimmie. We’re not like seagulls, screaming Mine Mine MINE! We need to have faith in those who have come before us and earned the respect and station due to them. Because sometimes they know a LITTLE better than you do.” He looks back to the one he’s mentally named ‘New Girl’ and grins. “Any questions?”
The woman replies back to him, adjusting her glasses as she does, “With all of those facts and insights, I cannot see why anyone would question it further, unless they were jealous, or their own hubris was taking over. I have heard about that before, in particular with a kinmagi. I appear to have been set straight. Hopefully the rest of us have learned as well.”
The rest of the litany is then recited, and the pair exit the circle as the Inner Sky is about to begin.
(Written by Bryan Osborn and Ryla)
The Inner Sky
As the Echoing of the opening howl fades, Bane-Breaker moves, clothed in the deep brown cloak displaying the symbols of Bear. Moving with walking stick topped with a beehive husk sanctified by the Caern Spirit.
When Bane-Breaker speaks, her voice is low, but carries to all ears.
"Here is Winter, the time of all stillness, the time of cold, the time of deep deep peace."
In the area, snow begins falling from nowhere, the spirits of air chilling, breath frosting all around, the Spirits coming to the call of the Elder Theurge.
"For Bear, this is a time of sleep, of Dreams, of Communion with Gaia. A holy state. Sleep, healing, renewal, and sometimes, even new life sparks in these dark cold times. New life that grows in the deep peace. Growing stronger, waiting for the future, waiting for the Spring to come to bring that life."
In the air, a growing sound, a deep, massive breathing, slow and steady, immense powerful lungs breathing evenly. Raising the staff, voice growing The Elder moves around the area, calling to the Garou, encouraging.
"Join me, Join the Dream Bear has, bring yourselves to Bears Dream and lift voice and spirit and call out to the Dreams of Bear and the new life coming. Let Bear hear us from sleep, keeping our faithful watch!"
Sweeping into Crinos, the Elder calls forth into the air, joining the Garou as the air shimmers with the presence of the spirits reverberating as into the howls and calls are chanted the Totems of the Sept, individual Spirits of honor, singing of the blessings of the Spirits and the bonds between Spirit and Garou.
(Written by Journey)
Cracking the Bone
Once the ritual of the Inner Sky has passed and the great spirits that ward and protect the Sept has been thanked, a wise old Garou by the name of Follows The North Star approaches, holding in his large paws a pure white curved bone of a great foe that the Sept aided in defeating during the last revel. It has been polished smooth with numerous runes etched into the bone by a sharp claw, writing out litany of law. Holding the bone up high in his paws, the slender black furred Crinos form of the Child of Gaia rumbles to those who have gathered beneath the pregnant glow of Luna’s bounty.
“Brothers and sisters of the Enduring Spirit, family to wise and honorable Bear, now is the time where we share news or raise grievances to be heard by all and to be resolved honorably beneath the watchful eye of our mother’s sister. Those greatest in station will speak first as their voices are deemed the strongest. So now, the cracking of the bone shall commence!”
Raising the bone higher once more, his strong paws gives it a large crack as splinters travel through the bone, snapping it in half. He places one piece down at the heart of the Caern before him, while the other is handed off to a ranking Alpha of one of the packs. They bring news of a blight in the city that they were successful in clearing out, and they are looking for more support to continue cleansing a few more city blocks of heavily infested banes.
There is a low murmur of acknowledgement from the Sept as plans to support are quietly tucked away, as well as praise for their current successful efforts. One by one varying Garou step forward to take the bones so that they may speak, bringing about discussions of territory, grievances and even praise for those who have worked hard to bring about success to their Sept. One wished to discuss the lines of territory between two packs to ensure that everyone was on the same page, another wanted to praise a young mother for giving birth to twins who both were found to be born True, and another, the most interesting of the group, wanted to raise complaint against his own mentor who moved in on his kin for sending him on a ‘suicide mission’ for his rite of passage, despite coming back alive and mostly in one piece.
As the Shadow Lords bickered back and forth between each other, the Truthcatcher steps in and puts them both in time out, requesting an Elder of their tribe to step forth and find a resolution within thirty days. Until then, neither of them would be allowed to see this vixen of a young lady who has driven a wedge between them, and for some reason did not show up to moot. Knowing glances were passed about the Sept, snickers kept quiet behind large paws so not to be disrespectful to the rite. At least it provided a great deal of humor to what is usually an intense night of debate and revelry.
Once the last Garou had their say, Follows The North Star picks up the pieces of the bone once more and holds them upwards for the spirits to bless them, then gives his final words to the Sept. “And now that we have all had our chance to speak and no one else has any news to share, I will consider all matters closed as the Talesinger will lead us in story, dance and song!" With that, he snaps the bone again, taking the pieces and throwing them into the large fire in the middle of the circle of wolves, watching the smoke rise upwards in colorful sparks before giving the floor to the Galliards.
(Written by Troy)
Stories and Songs
Story: Battle for Khol
Sigryd steps into the amphitheater, a little nervous at her first appearance in the Sept's moots. She pulls her guitar in front of her and starts to play, fingering the opening chords. A string breaks. TWANg. She manages to chord around it after a brief flub. She opens her mouth to sing. "Prospect dreaming in afternoon sun..." another string breaks TONG. There's no chording around that now. Sigryd freezes and her eyes flash gold, then close. She sways on her feet, fighting down the rage at embarrassment. A deep breath and she opens her eyes and turns to the Master of the Howl. "A few moments to repair the damage please, Hushed Blaze rhya. I'll take up the tale again after the next bit of business if you will allow it." Another Galliard comes out and performs an interpretive dance of a recent battle, and then Sigryd is ready to perform.
Prospect dreaming in afternoon sun
The food was good, pack and fun.
Laughter followed, honor won
But a fight is yet to come.
Shadows poured down the street
Corruption’s army silent, fleet
“Stand to battle!” alpha bellows
Leisure left, In rage they rose
Kinfolk runs for the heights
Rifle to man mate’s fear to fight
But the enemy’s trap is sprung
And Khol’s freedom’s done
Starchaser vows “I will find you”
Elders quickly summoned show
Search begun the trail runs true
Running where the oceans flow
The way is blocked the wall warded
Moonbridge fails, umbra shuttered
Snipers watch, the fence is tall
Alpha charges, the fence will fall!
Trailing chain link, running hard
Alpha leaps, window shatters
Starchaser fights, flank to guard
Snipers fall under Elders claw
In the keep the foe awaits
Magic mutates man to snake
World Wyrm rises in its hates
Jormungandr the world will shake
Claws catch in the snake’s scaly hide
Spurs the alpha leaves behind
Serpent’s eye to bite and blind
While Elders hew, ripping its side
In rack and ruin the serpent falls
Heart pierced by Elder’s claws
Death’s mages dying fail
Khol no longer theirs to jail
Vict’ry the pack has won
Weathers the storm their cornerstone
Starchaser their heart and soul
Honor’s Keeper their banner holds
Kandula’s Hope whole again
Honor served, glory given
Evil beaten death is checked
Kandula’s hope, the watch is kept.
(Written by Sigryd)
Story: Mercy's Wings?
The next Galliard comes out into the circle after Sigryd leaves. As he strums the guitar, Troy starts to pick out a real tune now, one that he has practiced and practiced. It's an original piece, one that is designed to be optimistic, one that lets the listener think of when they were young and plucky, wide-eyed and foolish.
"I was born and raised in San Francisco to Richard and Paula Jameson. I am the middle child of three. Older brother named Andrew and a younger sister named Melissa. My dad lived the band life when he was younger until he settled down, my mother a reputable Garou. Philodox. Wise and calm. They balanced each other out like yin and yang. My mother, hit the baby jackpot with my brother who was born Ahroun, followed by me born Galliard. My sister sadly did not hit the genetic lottery as she was born kin, but that didn't deter her from being the bigger pain in the ass for my parents."
"I grew up with a love of music, taking quickly after my father while my older brother was a momma's boy. I would sing my guts out from the age of three, dancing and learning to play the guitar, where he would learn the arts of diplomacy, leadership and politics. As an Ahroun, he would need those three traits to be a successful pack leader when his time would come. We had a nice home, very simple on a modest income that my father had from working days and nights as a carpenter. He always complained about the house we owned, saying he would have done this and that differently."
"I was raised in the Garou life since I was a child. It was expected of me of course to know who I am and where I belong in this world. My brother and I would do chores for the Elders, fetching things from the city to bring back to the Caern, and I was even lucky enough to once sit next to Mother Larissa at the table for dinner during moot when she was invited as a guest from the Sept of the Green in New York. She is a wise old crone, who prattled on and on and on about how amazing the Big Apple was, and it was in that moment I was inspired to travel, to do something outside of my element. I wanted to visit Europe, Asia, Canada and hopefully even New York City."
Taking in a deep breath, the guitar's tone begins to shift to one of determination, a rise into adulthood, a journey. "So, my time came and I had my first change, shortly before my senior year of high school. I popped fur when my Uncle Will goaded me into anger by threatening to tear apart my mint edition first appearance of Cloak and Dagger from an old Spider Man comic. I had it signed by Stan Lee. You see, Cloak and Dagger balanced each other out. Light and Dark. Victims of fate, but brought together to be great heroes who protected those who were in need the most. The druggies, the helpless, the abused." Sucking in a deep breath, he says, "My brother, already rited, he watched with pride as I fumbled my way through my rite of passage with two others. Janice Timblery and Eric Remmington. A Fury and a Fang. Oh, how they hated each other. Eric slept with her cousin during moot one time and broke her heart. Janice never got over it. The two of them fought tooth and nail the entire trip through the Umbra to recover a lost fetish that was buried within the heart of a junkyard guarded by banes of the worst kind. The goal for Janice and Eric was simple... get the fetish. Me? Keep them from killing each other."
There is a light laugh from Troy as he reflects on that evening, giving a shake of his head. "We came home successful and I told the story with joy in my heart. Acting out each part as I danced around the firelight with blood streaking my body and my wounds hissing at me."
"The next year was fairly easy for me. I joined Andrew's pack, even though I was the Omega. There was four of us and we followed the beautiful and wise Dove. Our pack's mission was to cure the sick and the ailing within the Tenderloin district. We tried to make a dent in those who were pushing drugs to the streets and we focused on human traffickers who would funnel young girls from other countries through the streets to those who could afford to buy them. We started to make a name for ourselves, one block at a time. It was truly Gaia's work and we were honored to be recognized by the Sept for how energetic we were in our mission."
Soon, the guitar's tone begins to shift once more, slowing down from victorious melodies to a dour tone. "One day a man named Emilio Hernandez came to us, begging for help. He was a representative from the Sept of Mozambique Falls in Africa near the Indian Ocean. It is a small Sept made up of Glass Walkers, Shadow Lords and Bone Gnawers who has been in a war against Pentex for many years, pushing back against deforestation and the slaughter of tribal villagers that made their homes deep within the purest of Gaia's bounty. The local Fera there were also exhausted from the struggle, as Mokole and Bastet put rivalries aside to work with the Sept."
"And this is where my story begins."
"Emilio begged our leadership to send support. Anything at all! Everyone was being slaughtered and a few more packs could surely turn the tide. They were starving, exhausted, but still willing to fight. They had a plan and it would surely work. They had a mole on the inside who was feeding information on Pentex's next steps and if we could strike at the heart, it would surely signal victory and be the push needed to finally stop them once and for all, send them packing."
The guitar once more picks up. Optimism! Heroic endeavors! Let's go on a journey! "My brother, he flat out said no. Our place was here in America, on the streets, but I begged him. Oh, how I begged him. Look at all the great things we did here in the city. We should spread Dove's love to those who needed it. How can we turn a blind eye to those who need it the most? I badgered and begged and he finally caved, because he always had a hard time telling me no, even as my Alpha. The rest of the pack agreed as well. We will win! We will be /heroes/. Two other packs signed on as well, a war pack named Blitzkrieg filled with hungry young Get of Fenris and one named Steamrollers with a couple of crafty Glass Walkers and a Gnawer who was hearty and street savvy."
There is a twitch of Troy's lips as he continues to play, bobbing his head slowly in time with the faster paced guitar, breaking into a round of song for a moment, the chorus to Explorers of The Midnight. His throat is full of rasp as he sings to the group, before taking a sip of water to continue on.
"The journey was a rough one as he hopped from bridge to bridge, paying favors along the way as we went. Our three packs were eager to help and we have all heard the stories of their Sept Leader, Defies-The-Storms. Ahroun, Elder and legendary Get of Fenris tactician. He was cruel in battle, has probably a hundred kids from at least fifty women, can outdrink a river and has the jawline the can cut through granite. Oh, he was a God of Gods and when I met him, I will never forget his speech. He was so inspirational. It was like being in the presence of royalty. His pure breed went back generations and generations of heroes. I would lose my voice if I tried to recount his lineage."
"We went undercover with the Red Cross, because we needed work visas to cross into Africa from America, and I was thrilled to do good work as I waited for marching orders in the thick swaps and deep forests of Africa. We worked with the villagers rebuilding their war torn homes and I was apart of building a children's hospital from scratch. We slept on the ground in tents, no matter the weather. We had no electricity, no internet, no cell phones. The comforts and joys of America was gone and all we had was hope, heart and strength of our pack, as well as the words of Defies The Storm."
"The first year went by quickly as we fought and fought. We would widdle down their front lines as they would come into the forests. Monsters. Some with thick armor that resembled crabs on steroids, some of them spit acid and worms, but most of them just came with rocket launchers, silver and tanks. The second year was hard as we lost Steam Rollers and soon after Blitzkrieg. Our pack ..." This is where he pauses.
"Our pack was named Mercy's Wings." His breath catches in his chest, ragged and raspy. "We lost our sister Melanie in the middle of year two, now down to three. The pain of losing someone that you can feel in your head was so hard. I will never forget her screams as she was torn in half, then her body ran over by the treads of a tank to silence her voice for the last time."
"So, within our pain and misery, we kept battling on. I have scars now, my brother was missing an eye and Sebastian was teetering on the frays of Harano as each day was a struggle to continue the fight. He and Melanie was very close as they rited together. I could feel the guilt in my head as he would sob himself to sleep. They wouldn't be here if it wasn't for me. Melanie would be alive. My brother would have his eyes and he'd be at home with his mate who had their second child while he was gone."
The guitar continues on slowly now, miserable and sad as Troy stares at the sky. "But, Defies the Storm was adamant. We were making progress and each name would be remembered and recorded in the silver record when we finally made our push into the heart. The intel leaked to us was always good and we would make a huge dent each time. We knocked out two factories, we cleansed a river, we healed wounds within the Fera and the relationships were never stronger." He breathes out softly, his voice catching in his throat at times. "It was worth it, I kept telling myself, even as I struggled to maintain my own optimism. This is what we were born for, right? To do this. To fight! To fight the Wyrm no matter where it fucking dwells and breeds and we are /warriors/. We are Gaia's sons and daughters we have TO TRUST HER." He howls out suddenly as his hands grip the guitar now as the melody stops.
Troy's tears stream down his cheeks as he clenches his eyes shut. His hands grip the guitar so tightly that his knuckles bleed white. "Year three came and we pushed our way into the heart of the battle. We found a Spiral Hive where several key members were on the Pentex Board and killing them would collapse the entire project. They would scatter like ants, we would win and take our lands back and then we could go home. More reinforcements from Spain and Asia were on the way and it would be a few weeks for them to get here, but we had a window. We had /the/ window and we had to take it."
He starts to play again. A war anthem. Be Legendary by the band Pop Evil. It's designed to tug at the rage in one's heart, to be inspirational. Glory. Seize the moment. No regrets. MORE. WE WANT MORE. WE WANT MORE!
"Defies the Storm made the plan and we executed it. As usual my role was backline as a combat medic. My brother, he front lined the fight alongside this legendary Get of Fenris. They took out one, two, three targets. But, where was the fourth? I will never forget her name. They called her The Red Salamander. Ragabash of the Spirals, a legend and a follower of Bat. It was not until much later that I would find out that she was the mole, feeding us intel in hopes of us taking out her competition for Sept Leadership. She had the company wrapped about her pinkie the entire time and she delighted in taking new forms, pretending to be someone else each day. She manipulated us from the start, for years, feeding us intel through the shadows, gaining our trust. When we thought we won, we realized we lost. It all came to a head for our final mission. The intel was to cleanse this blight in the Umbra, a deep scar of poison. We seal this rift, it would bring Gaia back. It would fix everything."
Shaking his head, Troy reaches up to wipe at his face. "It was a lie. We came through the other side and all the illusions melted away. We faced Thunder Wyrms, Nexus Crawlers, and monsters riding dragons. It was as if I was staring into the eyes of the Apocalypse." His voice quivers now, shaking, full of fear as he drops the guitar from his hands with a loud clatter of wood. ".. and..."
The eyes of Troy is haunted now as he leaps to his feet, pacing around the fire as the flames licked off his body, casting shadows, many, many shadows. "We were cut down and slaughtered with ease, as if we were children playing with dynamite. My brother and Sebastian fought valiantly but they were killed as quickly as the battle started. I felt them slip from me, followed by the fading heartbeat of Dove as she sang her last song. I could.. I can't breathe.." He chokes out as he falls to his knees, clutching at his throat, then runs his hands over his head, tugging at his hair. "I will never forget their screams. Sebastian just laid there and fucked died but my brother would not give up. He never would give up. He called out to me! He screamed my name. He told me to run and I couldn't! I was paralyzed. I was scared. I couldn't feel anything at all."
There is a wet, blubbering noise from Troy as he chokes out again. "And as I watched everyone die around me, I felt a hand grab me from behind, yanking me off my feet. It was Defies The Storm and he shouted words at me that I couldn't hear but I will always remember. He howled out to me in the mother's tongue. GENTLE RAIN! DO YOU TRUST ME!? DO YOU SWEAR YOUR LIFE TO ME!? " Troy shouts out to the sky. "And I screamed back.. YES! I DO! I BELIEVE IN YOU JARL! PLEASE SAVE US! What do I do!? Who can I save!?"
His sobbing grows louder now as he crumbles forward to the ground, clawing the ground. "He told me to save myself.. and I felt his voice fill my head as his totem took me as his packmate. Hfran the crafty raven. I heard black wings come from behind me, sharp claws grasp my shoulder and then I was in the air, being torn through the skies away from the battle as Defies The Storm was cut down by balefire before my eyes."
"I was saved by wings of mercy." He whispers out in a raspy voice, his body trembling.
"Defies The Storm was a good man. My brother was a good man. Sebastian, Melanie." Troy rasps out on his knees as he keeps his head bowed forward. "It's my fault. I wanted to save the world, young, foolish, /stupid/. Stupid... stupid..." He chokes out. "And it cost me everything." He wheezes out. "When raven returned me to what was left of the Sept, smoldering and filled with ash, there was nothing left. Those that were left of us were found miles away, injured and barely breathing. The Sept of Mozambique Falls was gone. I was lost in the jungles with nothing left. No pack. No family. No friends."
Troy's tears are hot along his cheek, his face a mess of pain and anguish. "The reinforcements finally came, only to collect the broken pieces and to take us home. I wasn't welcomed home as a hero. My parents.. oh god.. my parents.. I.. I had to tell the Sept what happened. I had to tell this story over and over and over.. I had to tell it to each family member who lost someone."
Staring down at his hands which are visibly trembling, he squeezes them into fists, giving a loud, wet sniff. "No one blamed me. But my mom.. she no longer talks to me. My dad is a shell of a man now. My sister, she loves me so much. She has called me every day for the last year and it was her idea for me to ask the spirits to give me a new name. Mercy's Wings. To honor my pack. To honor raven. To honor Defies The Storm Rhya. The greatest Get to have ever walked this earth."
"So.. I started walking. Like Forest Gump. I just left my room and I started walking. I heard that Prospect is a home for those to rebuild their lives, to start over. This is who I am. This is my story."
(Written by Troy)
The Revel
The emotions of the stories told of battles won and battles lost, heroes and enemies, and legends born have the Sept in fever of anticipation for the climax of the Moot tonight. The Master of the Howl appears and starts walking around the circle with an intent look in her eyes. Checking each Ahroun as she goes, she finds one that she stares at. RIGHT. IN. THE. EYES. Until finally she has had enough and blinks. With a grin, she calls out, "I give you tonight's Wyrmfoe, Ends-the-Nightmare!" She steps out from the circle, allowing the chose Ahroun to lead from there.
>> Brothers and Sisters! Tonight, we celebrate our victories! Tonight, we renew our Caern, and strengthen our resolve to DEFEAT THE WYRM! <<
The wolves begin to howl and yip in agreement. Ends-the-Nightmare begins to clap and stomp in rhythm.
>> Who here challenges tonight? Who thinks they are worthy of rank? Worthy of being Alpha? Worthy of leading us in great battle!!! <<
The howls ring out throughout the Caern, the anticipation of what comes next climbing higher and higher! At this point, several Cliaths and a Fostern come forward and make their challenges for rank. Another Ahroun comes forward and announces his challenge for Alpha of his war pack. These are settled, each in turn, and some with blood spilled.
The fever pitch and hum of the crowd, as they grow restless from the need to release the built of gnosis energy, comes to an apex and Ends-the-Nightmare shouts out
>>WE HUNT!<<
He leads them out to the bawn as they seek out their prey! They return to the amphitheater and with a final howl from all together they recharge the power of the Caern for another month!
(Written by Brooke)
