2019.02.19: Visions of Tara

Visions of Tara
Lleutrim, Aleksandr, Waziyata, Ryla, Dragomir, and Frost witness a vision of the Battle of Tara, while passing by the Battleground Realm on their way to the Legendary Realm (Continuation of TBD: The Road from Ancient Numantia
IC Date	2019.02.19 (February 19th, 2019) Log starts at this date and quickly moves through time...
Players	Lleutrim, Aleksandr, Frost, Dragomir, Ryla, and Waziyata (ST)
Location	Moonbridge to the Legendary Realm
Spheres	Gaian Garou

Moon Phase: Full

When Eye of the Storm finally pushes his way through, and onto the moonbridge - he spins on his heels and lifts his javelin - prepared to battle anything that follows them through. At the sight of the bane lowering like a spider and not entering he snarls back through the portal and growls, >>I will return for you.<< and snorts brutally before he turns around to look towards the others. The javelin is slung to his back and he growls towards Battle Singer, <<Well done. That certainly pissed them off.>> He takes a moment to look out through the Aetherial Realm as they travel the moonbridge. <<Doubtful we will escape the same way we came in, but if we do.. I will be ready.>> He looks at them all covered in the bane's goo and says, <<We will need to cleanse ourselves once we arrive. This shit stinks.>>

Seinneadair Blàr lopes a little distance along the moon bridge then pauses to look back and make sure everyone else has reached it and whether or not they need to fight a retreat. The bane in the tunnel spewed it's sizzling go across his face, leaving a burn mark across his muzzle and up over one eye though luckily for him it missed his eye itself, or he had closed it in reflex. The Galliard eyes Dragomir to judge whether the Athro is actually praising him or more likely being sarcastic.

He sits down on his haunches and eyes the others, >> If they do not follow at once, we should heal our wounds. We know not what we shall run into on the other side of this moonbridge. There is no guarantee it still goes where we wish it. << A wolf's faint nod to acknowledge the comment about cleansing.

Icy grey eyes look over each and every one of them to assess their wounds and who needs healing. >> The tunnel was blocked. It took far longer to clear than expected. Everyone did well and kept their heads in a very sticky situation. << Battle Singer looks back to Dragomir, >> I could not see what was going on out there. I am glad you are still with us, Eye of the Storm'rhya. <<

Puddle Jumper waits just beyond the entrance to the bridge, at the point where the path curves impossibly upward, just before it enters the umbral sky and heavens, waiting with Twister, watching for Lights the Darkness and Eye of the Storm and anything that may follow after them.

When they come, alone and unpursued, the large grey-white Crinos wags her tail again, maw splitting into a grin. <<Good!>>

Then she turns and drops to all fours, moving quickly up the path after the others, who are no doubt waiting just beyond. When the pack is rejoined, her massive tail is still wagging. When Battle Singer stops and sits, she merely halts and shifts her weight, looking between him and the others on the bridge.

>>I am not hurt.<< she reports in at the talk of healing, before she is shrinking down to her Glabro form, and shrugging her bulging Minnie Mouse backpack, "Have Breath of Gaia Talens. Saves Gnosis. Best for bad hurts."

The moonbridge remains dim, uncertain, the bright silver moonlight shining as if through a film of soapy water this close to the departure point at old Numantia.

Ahead, the bridge rapidly grows brighter, surer, more substantial seeming as it arcs into the night sky and thence to the Aetherial Realm, the Umbral Heavens.

Frost follows along, saying and signing nothing for the moment. She looks the group over as they travel, eyes inevitably falling on Lights the Darkness where they linger for a moment before turning back to the path ahead.

Twilight's Glimmer has made it along with the others, checking back on the kin, and now takes time to look over the group, and then at the path ahead. >> I have no wounds either. I would like to watch and learn how. << She sees Wazi with her backpack and will pad over next to her. >> Can I help? << She sees the goo on some of them, and knows to be careful around them.

Eye of the Storm shifts back down to his large homidish form and offers, "It was a battlefield.. the Wyrm was superior in number, but they were no match. Iron Mountain would have been proud to fight on it. I shall tell him of the battle when I next see him." He turns to look towards Lights the Darkness, and then back towards Battle Singer, "Sending him out to heal me was appreciated. I almost broke a sweat."

Eye of the Storm transforms into a normal looking human man.

>> Glad it was challenging enough to get your blood going, but not so much that we lost you, Eye of the Storm'rhya. Thank you. << Seinneadair Blàr looks back to Wazi, >> Aye, let us heal him using the talens then. I am only lightly injured. << Lleu also shifts from huge wolf back to the form of a man, or near man at least, choosing Glabro. His gaze slips up the bridge, "Let us do the healing quickly and move along. I for one will be pleased to get to the portion ahead where the light is stronger."

Wazi shrugs the backpack down from her shoulders and looks to Twilight's Glimmer when the Ragabash approaches, smiling at her. "Yes," the lupus agrees simply to the question, before pausing and looking to Battle Singer, then to Dragomir and back again. She hesitates a moment before nodding slightly to Battle Singer's words and looking to Dragomir.

"I see much blood. Much bane lettuce. But not much hurt. Are you needing healing, Dragomir?"

Twilight's Glimmer shifts from her dire wolf shape to that of Glabro, like the others did. Far too squishy as Homid, and this place not safe. She waits next to Wazi to do whatever she can - now that she had hands again. "Show me what you wish of me, Puddle Jumper. I follow you."

Dragomir coils around, looking over each - and stopping his intense blue eyes on Frost for a long moment. "What will kill here, will never truly die. Though if we are killed here, we shall fade from this world - as we are not Legends ourselves." Then he speaks to the others, "The Legendary Realm is the depiction of all that we are, and all that we have been. It will depict where we are failing, and you will see why Tradition is so important." He turns his head to look towards Lights the Darkness and says, "This will be especially important for you to witness. You, who defies traditions and believe you can carve your own path. You will learn the true consequences for your ancestors, by such bravado."

He turns to look towards Twilight's Glimmer and says, "Pay close attention to what we encounter young New Moon. Here you will find answers to questions that you must ask time and time ago with the young of the Nation. Here, where those who wrote our Litany dwell - who have died defending it. Here is a place a learning, and you will have your chance to truly understand."

He turns to look towards Battle Singer and says, "You will have the chance to understand finally, why I was so hard on you when you were a cub. What the true War we face is, and what I have been trying to prepare you for. I warn you.. what you will learn here, will doubtlessly be discouraging and heart-breaking. For you will see just how much has already been lost.. forgotten.. abandoned by our own people."

He turns to look finally to Puddle Jumper and shakes his head at the question for healing, then considers, "This War is more than just a conflict between the Wyrm, the Weaver and the Wyld. It is the obliteration of our entire way of life, and though we face extinction - still we are divided. It is why we must hold together, learn from each other, survive and fight on. Why our sacrifice may seem insignificant, but without it - generations will suffer behind us." Dragomir studies the moonbridge and where it leads, considering thoughtfully just how long it has been since he was here before. "We are wise to honor all we encounter here, and give it the respect it is due for being here. Even the legendary foes we will face, hold importance in our history."

Lleutrim watches the others, studying Frost briefly, then Aleks, "You particularly did very well today and made me glad you came." The Galliard didn't get to see what all Dragomir did though he can imagine what he had to hold off. He listens to the Athro, "And yet, nature itself is about change. The trick is balance." It is said softly to himself.

The Galliard's gaze refocuses on Wazi, "I do not need healing. Let us save what few resources we have with us for time of greater need. We should move along." Lleu looks ahead up the bridge and starts walking. Once he gets a little ahead, he shifts back to being a wolf, a regular lupus, to take advantage of the heightened perception without having to activate a gift.

Wazi gives a single nod in reply to Dragomir's nod, watching and listening silently as the man speaks. After he has finished, she glances to the others in turn, before turning her gaze back to Ryla.

One of the pockets of her large, orange camping backpack is opened, revealing it to be packed full of painted gourds. She offers the bag's mouth toward the Ragabash, "Take three," she offers, "If wounds are great, you must crush into dust. Then sprinkle Gaia's Breath and listen to Dove sing. He is bound to heal."

Afterward, the Ahroun turns her attention back to the others. She nods to Lleutrim's words, and then after the three gourds are taken or rejected, she closes the backpack and drops down to her breed form to follow the others along the bridge.

Frost looks a little puzzled as eyes turn to her, her head tilting in the silent question back, expression saying 'What?'. She takes the pause in travel to unsling her gun, reaching into her pocket to slide replacement rounds into it before shouldering the rifle once more.

Twilight's Glimmer takes her pack that is on her shoulders again, and takes three of the gourds and puts them in her pack. "Thank you. I will save them for when they are needed, and do as you say." The healing being bypassed for now, her pack gets closed and put back on before she shifts down as well to lupus and pad along with the others.

Dragomir shakes his head and says after Lleutrim, "No Lleu, it is not about change - not here. It is about Tradition, honoring the old ways - following as it must be done. This is not a place to be balanced. This is a place being destroyed by the adoption of new ways and forgetting of the old. Too often petulant young garou believe that they can ignore our history and the tales of the Silver Accord. They were written for a reason. They are honored, for a reason. If you come here trying to prove you are beyond them, or better then them.. we will be stuck here for a very long time until you realize otherwise."

He sighs slightly, and begins walking after the others all the same.

>> I was thinking about the garou in general more than about the Realm. The purpose of the Realm is remember and honor the old ways. I understand. Marines too honor tradition. I know the value of it. << Donnachaidh the wolf trots on and goes silent, watchful. Being on the moon bridge is no guarantee of safety as they travel on. Frost purses her lips faintly as neither of those eyeballing her respond to the silent version, so she signs instead. "What? Did I do something wrong?" She continues walking along with the rest, tightening the strap on her rifle before reaching down to snap the sheath of her knife closed once more.

Twilight's Glimmer listens to the talk between the men. As she looks between them, she sees Frost signing and wishes she knew what she was saying. Mental note - learn ASL. For now, making sure they are all together, and getting to the next place is most important. She will learn, do her part, and be stronger and wiser for all she experiences.

As the group climbs the moonbridge, the rocks and soil disappear in a matter of steps, replaced by the sight of the battle still ongoing outside the hill mound. It has begun to wind down, with the departure of the Garou - a dazzling flash of silver reveals the departure of the distraction pack, fleeing their own horde of oily black banes and massive, floating tentacle monsters. The sounds of screams, wails, and the spirits of Gaia at war with the spirits of the Wyrm are very distant, and in a few more footsteps the group has left the Penumbra behind and walks upon a shining, silver bridge of moonlight across the sky.

Soon, the group is surrounded on all sides by a dazzling array of stars, each burning coldly in the distance. The air is crisp, cold, and it would be dark save for the dazzling light of Luna's full face overhead. The path leads, as all moonbridges do, through the Aetherial Realm. There is no immediate sign of spirits, either friend or foe, but the Lunes are likely not far away now - the moonbridge is too firm, too solid, for their presence to be lacking here.

As the group moves, Aleksandr provides his interpretation services for Frost, announcing quietly to the pack: "Frost is asking: Did she do something wrong during the battle?"

<<Guns bad for ears. Much pain. Much Rage.>> Waziyata answers Frost's translated question helpfully. She retains her position near the rear of the group, following along otherwise quietly. Her tail and ears are up, showing that she is on high alert as the group moves along the path.

Seinneadair Blàr trots along and looks back to Frost as he slows up, >> Aye, rifle in small confine ... was problematic. May not be issue when we have more space to maneuver. Otherwise you did well. << At least in his opinion. The wolf picks up the trot once more, looking up and around at the stars - so bright! Dazzling sparkles of light against the velvet black. The views have been amazing once the bridge rose upwards, of the battle and now of the night sky around them. The Fianna wolf continues on, ignoring the pain of his burned face.

Dragomir remains quiet for now, following along.

Twilight's Glimmer looks up at the stars, and around at the others to check how they are doing. The doctor within the ragabash is always there and concerned of course. >> I think you did well, Frost. << She at least wants to give an affirmation to the kin. A star catches her eye when she looks again, as she wonders if it is an ancestor looking out for them.

The group presses onward. Even at a slow pace, travel across a moonbridge is usually a swift experience, but this journey must be longer than usual. The stars remain unchanged, burning brightly, even as the shapes of other planets become distantly visible in the Umbral Sky. Mars smolders for those who know where to look for him, dull red and distant, slightly bigger than an ordinary star here in the Celestine's home. Near enough that he could be visited, if the pack so chose.

The brighter crimson star of Antihelios is Luna's only rival in the sky, nearly as bright as her but much smaller, sullenly looking down upon the Tapestry of Gaia from his perch here. He, too, may be close enough to visit for those who are suicidally brave enough.

A single lune comes into view as the pack presses onward, standing sentinel above the bridge, burning silver with the light of Luna's Rage as it guards the way. Although the spirit lacks a face or features, each member of the pack can feel the weight of its gaze settling upon them as they near.

Beyond the lune and beneath the moonbridge, interrupting the cold peace of the Aetherial Realm, is a stretch of broken, scarred earth. A proud fortress stands, tiny and distant, hammered by the explosions of shells. Garou stand upon the battlements, throwing spears and loosing arrows upon thousands of the Wyrm's minions beneath them, most being humans armed with archaic rifles, mortar cannons, and other siege weaponry of the early 20th century. Black Spiral Dancers move amongst them, howling, sprinting for the fortress with them.

The lune is looked over and given respect by the Fianna. Seinneadair Blàr is no doubt greatful to see it keeping the bridge and protecting it from the the minions of the Wyrm.

As they begin to become aware of the view of a great battle below, where the moonbridge may indeed be descending to take them, Seinneadair Blàr slows his stride and even stops to look over the bridge and down at the view spreading below and ahead. Ears pricked up, silvery eyes intent, the Galliard becomes still as he studies the landscape. The former Marine frowns, studying the details as he can pick them out. He can't even begin to convey what he's looking at in /lupus/ for that language doesn't even have the words and concepts he needs. So Lleu shifts back to Glabro.

"This event ... is very recent. Post World War II, Cold War era Soviet uniforms ... assaulting a Fianna stronghold? I don't recognize where this is ... was happening. Not so many decades ago, see?" Lleutrim points out some of the equipment, naming what some of the things are he's seeing, "I'd say 1970's but where is this?" He frowns, trying to get a better look.

Twilight's Glimmer hears Lleu speak, and replies, >> My father shared a story with me - the Battle of Tara. Well one of them, not sure which one. It was a great battle the Fianna had at their High Seat in living memory. The Wyrm attacked with a weapons they stole from the Soviets and nearly succeeded, but they were beat back at the last minute. << She needs to talk to him more about history she thinks to herself.

Dragomir takes a long moment to study the scene, and a solemn expression comes over his face. One half-gloved hand lifts up to stroke his chin and he offers, "This.. is the Third Battle of Tara. There is a great deal to be learned from this battle for those of your tribe, Battle Singer. Few of those who saw it firsthand are still alive. Most have already forgotten its importance - but not your Tribe." He crosses his thick arms over his chest, obviously knowing a great deal more about this particular battle it seems.

A slow nod, "The Battle of Tara I think I remember reading about was against Vikings in the late 900's." And that is about the extend of Lleu's familiarity with battles of Tara. A look to Twilight's Glimmer as he listens to her, then to Dragomir. Lleutrim steps back from the edge of the moonbridge, the angle of view a strain to the neck and body to try and see it without leaving the bridge or going on ahead.

"I see. But the Fianna did succeed in beating them off. That at least is good." He looks to each of the others one at a time before he says, "Well, you've all come with me this far. We may as well continue. War is ugly. We'll do the best we can and look out for each other." With a frown, Lleu turns and continues along the moonbridbe to see where precisely it's going to land them and in the middle of what.

Below the Garou, the battle rages. On closer inspection, there is a thick, noxious yellow-green gas clinging to the ramparts of the fortress, most concentrated within the structure but leaking somewhat through the stones and gates to the outside. Many flecks can be seen inside the awful stuff - bodies laying dead or dying.

Men move along the ground outside, firing assault rifles at the Garou defending the structure with their archaic weaponry.

The Black Spiral Dancers continue their charge, their voices lifted in a taunting, maddened howl just on the very edge of hearing so far above the battle. Many of them fall, pierced by the defender's weapons, but a lone, bat-eared Crinos reaches the walls and throws his head back, seeming to laugh madly though the sound doesn't carry to the group. Then, he explodes - an entire section of the wall collapses, easily a dozen of the Fianna are swallowed in the explosion.

The battle pauses then, before the Wyrm's forces rush to the breach.

Upon the moonbridge, the Lune pulses a soft green color as the decision to continue is made. The spirit doesn't make any move to bar the way, though it still watches as the group passes beneath it and beyond.

The moonbridge continues onward, leading past and away from the vision of battle below.

Frost looks from the group as they talk about what's happening below to the battle until their path carries them away from the sight. Her hands move as she asks a question, "If we wanted to stop here would that have been possible? Or is there a different path that leads back here we'd have to find? I'm not sure how the bridges work in this regard."

As it becomes obvious that the bridge isn't going to that battle, Lleutrim stops and looks to Dragomir, "I thought that's where it was leading us. Should we continue and see where it goes, or should we try to go to Tara? It is clearly a Fianna place." A hesitation and a thinning of his mouth now he's stopped again, looking back. "I don't want to leave them. I want to help." Lleu catches Frost's sign langage and nods, "That is what I also wish to know. I've never tried to leave a moonbridge before."

Only belatedly does he look back to the lune, noting the color change. The Galliard frowns, "That doesn't look like .. a healthy happy sort of green. It's more like the gas down there." Looking back down, Lleu scowls, "Surely they aren't using /mustard/ gas." It's clear that Donnachaidh is rooted to the spot. If the bridge isn't going to /that/ battle, he's reluctant to continue on the path.

Dragomir has not yet moved, and when Lleutrim looks back he says, "The Wyrm used posion gas, explosives, machine guns loaded with silver bullets.. in this battle they very nearly took the most powerful of the Fianna's Caerns in Ireland. If it is here we are meant to go, Battle Singer.. then you too will hear the horn's call of the Great Antler of the Fianna." He does not seem surprised that the bridge does not lead them here. As though he was waiting.

As Lleutrim turns back, the Lune's color returns to its normal bright silver. It does not move from its perch in the umbral sky above the pack, or show any other signs to them.

Below, the battle continues. Squads of soldiers advance on the breach in the wall, dashing inside with gas masks to hide their faces, each carrying rifles and grenades, swiftly put to use.

Packs of Black Spiral Dancers have reached the walls now, and they continue their mad, distant howling as they scale the fortress battlements, climbing up to fight the Fianna. Each carries a submachine gun and most open fire with silver bullets, massacring more of the Caern's defenders. Garou fly into frenzy and attack, others rally and fight to resist the Wyrm's onslaught. Spirits begin to materialize as the Caern itself becomes truly threatened - massive stags, willow the wisps, fae spirits, naturae, pack totems, everything that can be brought to bear fights to resist the overwhelming force of the Wyrm's assault.

Waziyata glances up from the battle as Lleutrim begins to move away, turning to look at the man. She looks at the Lune at its warning, then back to the Galliard as he returns to gaze down at the battle. She whines softly at Dragomir's words, her own gaze moving back to the scene so far below. >>It is worse than what we fought.<<

Twilight's Glimmer looks concerned, and moved by it all. Sadness in her eyes, she moves next to Wazi, brushing her fur up next to hers. >> Hearing about this battle is nothing like witnessing it. << She cannot stop watching even as painful as it is.

A bit of Lleu's passion is already stirring, agitated that the bridge isn't taking them down /there/ where he wants to go. He paces back closer to the lune, looking, trying to figure out /how/ they can get there. He thins his mouth, shifts his jaw, icy grey eyes intent on the fighting below. He mutters to himself as he paces back, "God damnit. What? Do we just ... jump?"

He stops in his tracks when Dragomir speaks, listening. A blink at 'machine guns loaded with silver bullets' and then again at another part. "Horns and antlers are quite different things." Lleu rubs a hand over the back of his neck, his burned face aching. "-How- do we get down there?" Without waiting for an answer to his own question, the Galliard looks to the Lune, "Can the Lune open a way for us to descend safely?" He turns to look at Aleksandr, then back to the Lune. Though he does not yet speak the language of spirits, Lleu asks, "Will you open a way?"

The more of the battle that progresses below, the more agitated Lleu is to get their asses down there to help defend! Dangerous, very dangerous but it's what he's trained to do. "We've got to get down there /now/." Worse, it's much worse than what they'd left.

Dragomir walks forward now, to stand next to Lleutrim and looks over the edge to the battle below. "They were safe behind their walls.. complacent in their defenses. This is the strongest fortress Caern in all of Ireland - it has been defended for all memory. The Fianna High King was caught by surprise, in the dawn - just after their Beltane celebration. So many died in this battle - strong, courageous Warriors. Like you, Battle Singer.. they wished to charge in and defend. Watch." He points a half-gloved finger towards a group being decimated by the machine gun fire of silver bullets.

"High King Brendan O'Rourke was forced the burden of leadership. The great price we must pay for this War. The choice of life, the lives of those he loved and called family over this sacred place. How many lives would it cost, to hold onto this place? How many would it take? How many would be worth it? Too few, and they all would have died. Too many, and they would risk other locations as well. That was the decision he had to make."

Down below the pack, the battle continues. Scores of Garou die, fighting desperately. More of the Wyrm's soldiers fall than Gaia's Defenders, but their numbers are too great. For each slain, ten more seem to stand ready behind them, fresh and wielding terrible weapons - explosives, firearms, silver, poison.

Even as Dragomir speaks and points to that group of Garou being torn apart by silver, they rally together. One charges ahead of the others, bleeding from multiple wounds, howling, brandishing spear of bright, blue steel. He pierces the heart of one of the Black Spiral Dancers, and the two survivors of the group behind him join the fight as well, leaving six of their own behind.

The Lune is silent stationary above, heedless of or ignoring Lleu's pleas and urgency. While the Galliard searches for some way to go below, some answer of the spirit, it merely holds position.

Finally, after an interminable time in which more Garou die to the Wyrm, the Lune flashes again. Two colors: dark orange, pale purple, then it is back to the bright silver of Luna's face. No path opens for the Garou to follow to the battle below.

Man, it's /hard/ to just stand there and watch it. It's not like a movie - it's as if it were real and happening right now! And them with a bird's eye view. Lleu manages to stop his pacing and get a grip on his agitation a little bit when Dragomir tells him to watch. Oh aye, he's watching. Drinking up every detail he can, frowning, brows furrowed. It's a horrible carnage and yet, somehow worse to be stuck watching than /doing/. The colors the silent Luen then flashes draws the Fianna's attention to it. Lleu watches it pulse burnt orange then the pale purple and his expression becomes more puzzled. "What is is trying to tell us? A warning? I don't understand. Are we only meant to watch?" His attention goes back to watching the battle he's unable to assist and his pacing resumes. No one is answering his questions anyway.

A glance back to Dragomir, "What did the High King decide, Eye of the Storm'ryha?"

Waziyata's whine turns to a soft growl as she watches the battle continue to unfold. She is tense, unmoving, even as Lleu paces and Dragomir speaks. She shifts her weight a little when Twilight's Glimmer joins her, looking to the Ragabash at the touch of fur against fur. The Ahroun shifts her weight a little, pressing her side against the other, before looking back down to the fight.

>>Is what waits for us.<< Where she's come up with that idea, or what she actually means by it, isn't explained.

Dragomir offers, "The Lune is telling you not to jump from the Bridge, that there is nothing you can do to change the outcome of what has already happened." Dragomir answers, and when Lleu asks the question he says, "He decided that to lose this stronghold would be worse than death. He called for the tribe, for all of the tribe to come to their aid. The Great Horn was blown, and summoned the entire tribe to the stronghold's defense. It was only when they arrived that the Wyrm finally began its retreat and withdrawl."

"Tara was saved, but the price.. the price was heavy. Afterward Brandan and his pack left on a quest into the umbra and have never been seen since. His successor, is your current High King - Bron MacFion. What do you believe the price for this victory was Battle Singer?"

Frost comes to stand by the rest that look over the side, watching the fight unfold below. She flickers a few glances to Lleu and Dragomir as they talk about it, a soft frown creasing her brow as they bear witness to this part of history.

Lights-the-Darkness has been quiet for most of the trip along the bridge. Studying the Aetherial Realm with great interest, almost like a Cartographer might. Everything all at once. The battle below has drawn his attention, and while many questions have been asked, he says nothing in his silent study. The Theurge never comes to many conclusions quickly, and it's no doubt that he has been considering all of it at great length. Listening in parts to Dragomir and the rest explain things, his lips pursed. Studying the Lune after the spirit gets a respectful bow of his head and then the changing vision as they move. Finally, he speaks, looking down at the battle as he pauses in his movement, just letting the one word linger for a long moment. >>It is both a vision and warning, Battle Singer. That is the Battleground Realm. I am believing. You jump. You join. No guarantee way back. Not your destiny. Not where path leads.<< He chuffs back at the Lleu, then turns his wolf maw to peer back down.

Another long pause. <<Don't forget. Is about quest. About path, but not path. Remember this.>> He turns, finally, from the battle below and faces the FIanna. <<Ancestor warn: Too human. Ancestor say: learn from past. Learn." He motions a little with head to battle, then to Dragomir who has been explaining it. <<Honour past. Honour Fianna ways. This is message.>> The Theurge is rather good at puzzles such as this, at interpreting dreams, and visions and clues. He's partially a seer himself, now. >Ignore past. Repeat it. Make it worse. Past important.<< This he actually says as he looks at Dragomir though, not Battle Singer. <<Must learn from it. Not mean repeat it. Lessons to teach. Too human. Now time be wolf. Now time be Garou. Seem appropriate lesson for Adren.>> That almost seems amusing from the silver wolf, before he returns to stand near Frost, walking with her now that they are on the path.

Twilight's Glimmer nods her head with Lights-the-Darkness as he speaks. >> Wise words. << She very much knows that learning and remembering is part of growth. >> We stand on the shoulders of those before us. Must learn. << Still, a hard scene to watch, but this is what they came to learn.

As if to answer Lleutrim's question, the battle below changes. Dozens of silver beams lance down into the fortress, solidifying moments later into moonbridges! Packs charge along their length, throwing themselves into the battle, reinforcing the Stronghold of Tara. Dozens upon dozens of the Fianna, pure bred heroes to scraggly losers with little more than the rags on their backs. Each come to the defense of the greatest Caern in Ireland.

Immediately, the mood of the fight shifts against the Wyrm. Now it is the Black Spiral Dancers and the footsoldiers who die in great waves, who find themselves pushed back. They fight on, the battle momentarily uncertain, caught in the balance.

Then, a mighty pack of Garou charge from the inner sanctum of the fortress, the man at their head wearing the high crown of the Fianna, carrying a massive antler carved into a horn in one hand, a grand klaive in the other. King O'Rourke and his pack join the battle, and the Wyrm begins to flee. It is no orderly retreat, but a headlong flight, fomori and Black Spiral Dancers turning on one another in their haste to force a path back from the Stronghold and to escape.

Lleutrim has stopped as he listens to Dragomir. He watches the battle below, unable to do anything about it. His breathing is still slightly elevated, his heart rate a bit fast. "The price was paid in many lives. In watching the sacrefice, the struggle and near defeat of his people. Did the High King made a deal? Aid for his people to save the Caern in exchange for his own life and his pack's?" He doesn't miss a beat, "I'd pay it. If something is worth fighting for, you believe in, it sure as hell is worth dying for." Lleu's gaze is still rivotted upon the battle raging below.

His head turns to Aleks when the Theurge speaks. His own attention he drags back to the Silver Fang, "I know we should learn from history and not to repeat the mistakes of the past. Too many do not learn."

A touch of frown at the 'too human' reminder. The light changes and all of Lleutrim's attention goes back to the battle. His eyes and ears try to take it all in, missing as little as possible. He paces a few more steps to try and see it all better. The packs that come to their aid! The High King himself who rushes out with his pack, a great hollowed antler and the klaive both wielded. "It is good he called them and that they came!" Oh, how he would have gone if he had only been garou then!

Frost still watches the scene below, but her hand drops down reflexively to lightly stroke her fingers over Lights neck and shoulders, dipping into his fur. She looks up to Lleu as he talks, a small smile surfacing for a moment as he paces, then she steps back from the edge of the bridge to wait now that the tide of battle has turned.

Dragomir offers, "As much as you may believe that everything that happened in the past was a mistake that you need to fix, you would be quite wrong. The Legendary Realm does not depict the failures or dysfunctions of the Garou Nation. These are our tales, the stories and legends which carry on - that we tell our children and inspire them to grow to become Kings and Legends of their own." He turns his head to look towards Lights-the-Darkness, "This was a great battle.. it does not need fixing. The greatest stronghold of Ireland was saved this day." he lifts his half-gloved hand to point towards the High King charging into battle, "That, is a Legend. Stop heckling like an old woman, talking about doomed to repeat mistakes - and shut your mouth long enough to behold greatness when you have the opportunity to see it. Show some fucking respect." he growls lowly. He turns to look back towards Lleutrim and says, "Warriors like that, willing to make the ultimate decisions, and sacrifices are why we are still alive to fight this War."

Waziyata shifts her weight and abruptly stands up, edging closer to the very edge of the moonbridge, dangerously close to falling off and into the Aether or the battle below, if she were to be startled or pushed. The Ahroun pays no heed to the danger, ears up, tail up, eyes intently focused on the turning tide of the battle far below. Watching the Fianna come to rescue their caern and throw back the Wyrm with baited breath.

Twilight's Glimmer does not move from her place, still watching from there, although she sees Wazi mover forward to look more carefully. >> Careful, sister. << She does not want to startle her, just concern. Her attention turns then to the men. The tension already thick from the site of the battle, but their words ringing in her ears.

<<Did not say fix. Did not say wrong. Eyes of the Storm-rhya. Only said learn.>> Lights the Darkness bows his wolf head to the man, dipping it low. <<Does also not mean all in past is right. Mistakes are made. By many.>> He chuffs a little, his tone and body language passive. <<Victory not always mean right. And loss does not mean wrong.>> He looks back towards the battle. <<Respect Ancestors. Respect Legends. Great Battle. Great victory, this. Also not say doomed to repeat mistakes. Say learn from past. Some teach what to do. Some teach what not to do. Not say which this is. Only telling Battle Singer that it is for him to learn. This is what Lune is saying. Respect. Much respect for this.>> He pauses then and faces Dragomir. <<To believe we perfect, Eyes of the Storm-rhya. This is mistake. No offense meaning, but is.>> There was a time he would back down completely form the Athro. That is not now.

The High King of the Fianna brings the horn of antler up to blow a long, inaudible blast, head thrown back, muscles straining, eyes clenched shut - summoning the Tribe to the defense of the Caern. More moonbridges appear, flashing into the stronghold.

Then, he releases the horn to fall into place around his neck, on its leather thong. He bursts up to his war form and charges, giving chase after the fleeing minions of the Wyrm, his pack behind and around him.

Now, it is the Black Spiral Dancers who die, alongside their human pawns, the fomori, the banes that were brought. The Fianna charge out into the killing field and dog the heels of their foe. The first of the great, human siege weapons that dispensed poison gas and bombs are destroyed or overturned.

After a time, the battle begins to wind down - leaving countless bodies both Gaian and Wyrm, strewn across the fortress and its surrounding clearing. The day is won, at great cost of life.

Lleutrim glances at Dragomir, "Neither of us say that. It also teaches us tactics that /worked/, as this did." The Athro gets a frown out of him for thinking that's what was said - far from it. A faint negative movement of his head and he goes back to watching the last of the battle. "No one suggested it needed fixing. I know damn well why we study battles. To win."

The Galliard's still watching every bit of that battle he can. As it begins to wind down, Lleu closes his eyes for a long moment, digesting what he'd seen and heard. After a long moment he looks back to Dragomir and then the Lune, "Thank you, both." A respectful inclination of his head to the spirit for it's part in this, then he's ready to move on. He turns and shifts back into the form of a wolf, briefly brushing against her gently before he passes her.

Waziyata's tail begins to wag, slowly, gaining in excitement as the final moments of the High King's entrance to the battle play out. She leans just a little bit further, teetering momentarily on the edge of the path, then straightening again. She frisks a little in place as the horn is lowered and the Crinos rushes into the battle, klaive gleaming. Her mouth opens, tongue lolling in a panting, silent laugh before she turns and bumps her head against Twilight's Glimmer's side at the caution. >>Is a good fight. Look. They run. They die.<<

Then, she withdraws just a little, moving to a safer position with just her head poking over the side of the bridge, rather than head and shoulders with body weight teetering precariously. It's just in time for Lleutrim's brush against her, too.

She looks to him, stilling briefly, then continues wagging her tail at the Fianna. Rather than speaking further, she turns to follow him further along the moonbridge.

The group presses onward, following the moonbridge through the heavens for a time. Eventually, the path begins to arc and curve downward once more, gently easing downward through the night sky. It descends toward a massive world body, a primal, rich land rising from the umbral darkness, the sky beginning to turn pink and red on the eastern horizon.

A few moments more and the pack is nearly to the end of the bridge, which ends in a nearly empty plain covered in snow. It looks to be well below freezing and the crack of dawn. To the north and west, there is only frozen ground and blown snow, but hardy pine trees grow to the south and east, growing sparsely at first, but eventually forming into a distant forest of evergreens.

The Legendary Realm has rolled out the welcome mat, it seems.