Vasyl's Moot Stories
Vasyl's First Story
The Silver Fang steps forward and begins to pace around the gathered garou. “Allow me to tell a tale, a tale of tribes coming together, a tale to inspire, a tale of our greater strength as a united nation rather than one of discord and fighting within.”
There is a pause as he looks around the gathered.
“Fyodor Madovich, Gaia’s Talon, great warrior of the Silver Fangs gathered his pack around him and sat in prayer…for he knew what was before them. The pack of Silver Fang heeded the call of Guides-the-Stars, elder of the Black Furies as she and hers set upon creating a caern, such a rite, a dangerous venture. The forces of the Wyrm are sure to attack and disrupt the rite.”
He pauses then for a moment and looks to the gathered garou, “As the rite began, the warrior began a prayer with his pack.” A hand rises and then the fist slams against his armor, then again, and again, building a simple percussion of hand upon armor.
“I surrender my spirit Falcon hear my call One day I’ll soar at your side. Like so many before me I’ll die with honor and pride.”
Vasyl’s tone is a low but powerful rumble, a gathering of energy, you can almost visualize the Silver Fang hero in him, no doubt helped by the fact that the young cliath looks much like his great ancestor.
“Our right as warriors We shall fight at your side Destiny is calling Immortality be ours.”
“The great Silver Fang rose from his knees then,” Vasyl continues, “Clasping his packmates, shoulder and shoulder readying them for battle, his gaze then turns down the hillside to where the first line of defense stands. The Black Furies of the would be sept.” he explains as he waves his hand from left to right, visualizing the scene before them, a line of Fury warriors, sentries for the rite. “The Wyrm attacked in force. Black Spiral Dancers, Fomori and Banes.” Vasyl snarls out, it’s a growl now, the voice rising in fervor as he tells the story. “Beasts, laughing with madness as they charge. They are met by claw, and Klaive, and by the great flurries of bow and arrow. It was the great Blades-of-Rage, Black Fury ahroun that would call out and rally the first line…”
“Today the blood of battle Upon our weapons will never dry The Wyrm we shall send to the ground Laughing all along, as they die!”
“Now. The Black Furies upon the battle field were a sight to behold. Even the great Gaia’s Talon watched on from his place upon the hills, the cavalry position, he watched on with awe. Proud of the fellow garou of the nation, inspired himself by the way the great warriors of Pegasus fought for the land they would make their home.” His voice falls quiet for a moment, “But the forces then became too much…behold the NEXUS CRAWLER!” he howls out.
His pace quickens now as he walks through, his voice a low growl, fierce and angry as it was previous when describing the tale from the side of the Wyrm. “In its presence, reality corroded, decayed and began to shift and break! First came the winds, as it called upon a great storm of snow and ice! Friend and foe alike recoiled in the horror of the beast upon the battle field!”
“As Blades-of-Rage faced against this force, she too said a prayer to her totems.”
“Place my body upon the pyre And burn it to ash Let my spirit rise Great warriors carry me Take me to the heavens Where my sisters wait for me Let the fires burn to the sky My spirit will never die.”
Vasyl pauses and then continues, “Lo, what a sight, she marched on, her packs at her side marching forward towards the Nexus Crawler, fighting back against the hurricane like winds…but the Nexus Crawlers ability to change and shred reality makes him a fearsome foe….and soon the snow would turn to shards of silver.” His voice now solemn. “It began to cut down the great Fury warriors, who can face such an attack….it was now time, for Gaia’s Talon to act.”
“I will lead the charge My Grand Klaive into the wind Sons of Falcon fight To die and live again In cold wind and rain against silver, against the night Magic stars our guiding light.”
Once more, Vasyl is getting animated, excited even, “And so, the Silver Fangs took the field, protected by Luna they charged against the silver shards of the Nexus Crawler. The Nexus Crawler, gnashed and screamed in anger and redoubled his attacks, even the great Silver Fang war pack were given pause in their march, slowly pressing on, becoming a shield to protect the Black Furies and the great rite!”
“We are sons of Falcon The fire we burn inside Is the legacy of warrior kings Who reign above in the sky!”
“My great ancestor would call out, and then he would swing Heaven’s Cry, the Grand Klaive through the air…and it was as if it cut through the heaven’s itself!” Vasyl would swing his arm mightily as if wielding the Grand Klaive himself. “The Gauntlet torn asunder…Falcon had answered his call, the Nexus Crawlers sworn enemy has joined the field…a great flock of the Talons of Horus soars through the sky, their presence breaking apart the Bane’s ability to alter reality…the Silver becoming snow once more, the wind becoming still.”
As Vasyl says this, his own spirit familiar, a bird from a Talon of Horus flock soars across the sky and lets out its own war cry into the air.
“Now under the attack of the Talons, opportunity has come. Gaia’s Talon steps forward lifting the Fury comrades to their feet and then charges forward in unison. Once more his weapon is swung, striking true upon the Nexus Crawlers body. His attack so fearsome, so great the beast’s death wail would strike fear into the remaining forces of the Wyrm. The unified force of Gaia’s Talon and the Silver Fangs and Blades-of-Rage of the Black Furies press on then, they stalk, they hunt and they drive out the Wyrm until the rite is completed.
Thus is the story of how Heaven’s Cry cut the heaven’s asunder and earned its name. Thus is the story of the indomitable will of Blades-of-Rage of the Black Furies. Thus is the story of Fyodor Madovich Gaia’s Talon, slayer of Nexus Crawler, caller of the Talons, defender of caerns across the globe. Thus is the story, of the creation of the Sept of the Glorious Winds.”
Vasyl's Second Story
"When man and garou traveled across the Atlantic to the new world brought with them was conflict and war." Vasyl begins his tale.
"Mistakes were made, terrible mistakes in some cases. Gaian garou would War with Gaian for territory and Caern. Certain they had better ways to defend her from the Wyrm."
"I do not fault these ancestors and their war, they did much as we do, what they thought was right and just. They did as they felt right, as warriors of Gaia." He continues, "Make no mistake we are all warriors of Gaia. It is not a claim for the Ahroun alone to make." He smiles, "Or the mighty Get of Fenris to bear on their own. No, all of us of every tribe and every auspice, all warriors true."
"So when War was made I do not fault them, as we don't fault the Scorpion for its sting and the fire for its burn, it is our nature. We are Gaia's great storm, and the enemy fears rightfully us united and even a single garou. Because down to the last we will make war."
"Such is the story of the Sept of the Rising Star and Ratsputin Madovich Claws-of-Light." Vasyl, "I begun by saying mistakes were made...but like so many mistakes they can be set right. Claws-the-Light intended to do just that."
"Where the Northwinds meet the Great Lakes was a once great Wendigo Sept, a sept whose defenses were laid bare by war within Gaian tribes. This weakness led to its fall, and a dark hive of fear would take its place." Vasyl would explain as he circles the group, "But some two hundred years ago, Claws-the-Light would set this right. He would lead an assault on the hive and return it to Gaia."
"In the time the sept fell and the Hive grew it became powerful. It's defenses great, too great for the packs that sought to recover the fallen lands until there was only Claws-the-Light left. One garou, one Silver Fang." The words full of sorrow, a low rumble at a hint of rage.
"With a low exhale, the Silver Fang War king would jump down into the pit. The endless darkness below."
"I have seen the dark before Not this void, not this cold, not this numb The life I knew is over, forever behind But in this task, I will not succumb"
A smile spreads now on Vasyl's face, "With a strength of purpose, Lambent light would erupt from the Silver Fang." He pauses and corrects, "Not a licking flame, darting at the darkness, no...a bright blaze like no other. The defenders of the Wyrm would recoil to try and avoid its touch, their hearts began to Thunder in fear. In this Silver Fang, death has come for them."
"I am not a stranger to the dark Phoebe's Chosen, I come Helios' Chosen, I am glorious I march on, into the dark!"
The great elder called out, his fur blazing with silver as he becomes the avatar of death, Luna's Avenger, the embodiment of the bane of our rage given flesh!" Vasyl howls our with great excitement.
"Yes Forward he marched. The darkness itself recoiled once more at his presence. The dancers of the Spiral, their monstrous animals and names of corruption would strike when they could, cut down by the counter attack of the glorious Silver Fang ahroun. Such was to be the glory that day in his death.
"A champion of the Wyrm, a great Mule of Foebok, he would charge at this great King of the Silver Fangs. War King of Falcon, blessed in life...." He trails on in thought about his ancestor a moment and then continues, "This Spiral, his blows struck at the very soul, piercing it with fear, such is Foebok's way. Dropping our great hero to one knee, and for a moment his flame wavers..."
"Stand and fight No path behind me There is no retreat Only one way home
Stand and fight Always one more try Stand and fight I'm not afraid to die"
"Death could not touch him, the secret of death was his, stolen knowledge of Fangs long past, heir to such glory, he rose back to his feet and fought on. The Champion of Fear was just the next to fall to his claws.
He fought through the darkness, that blaze of silver light and fire." Vasyl states proudly, "Fought to the heart of the Hive. There in the mass of decay and death, he would reach down and dig, through blood, Ichor, andthe stench of evil itself. His clawed hand finally finding it and pulling it free...the pathstone of the Caern that once was.
A dramatic pause
"He stood there then, at the heart of the enemies stronghold, alone. The last survivor of the attack. Gaia's last hope of victory, mortal wounds, the scythe of death waiting to claim him and carry him to our ancestors homelands in the next life." A single tear shed but he is smiling.
"The spirits would never tell us what happened next. What fetish, what gift...what suicide pact he made for victory that day. What we know was that the pathstone would glow, not with Luna's light as we would expect but with The suns. Blinding white light, fire of the stars would blaze through every tunnel, destroying all surviving forces of the Wyrm, it would erupt from the tunnel entrance like a volcano. A star rising into the sky in a great explosion.
A territory away, three Alphas, A Wendigo, A Silver Fang, and a Child of Gaia, the three negotiating the next steps for if the assault failed, they would see this sign, the brightest star rising into the sky and follow it." Vasyl explains, "They would follow this sign and when they would arrive they would find the hive no more, the lands once again pure and ready for rebirth. These three alphas would challenge honorably to lead...a story for another time...but these three packs would be the first to claim and defend the Sept of the Rising Star."
"And Rasputin Madovich Claws-of-light? He would live on in our stories, an example of what is possible, of what just /one/ garou is capable of let alone the might of the pack."
Vasyl's Third Story
I have told tales of heroes, tales of greatness, but there are lessons to be learned in other tales as well. A tragedy…
This tale, is about a kinfolk. A beautiful woman of good lineage…her tribe is lost to us, lost to history, but her tribe does not matter for the story to ring true with its lessons. Tristana the Sorrowful; she whose sins and sorrow led to great loss, and horrible terror.
Like all kinfolk of her time, she longed for the right garou. A great warrior, a hero, a lover, a good man and a good father. She would go about the bawn, about the Sept, and watch and hope for this man to show himself. Some sign of destiny. Soon her hope, began to border on lust, a dark desire for what she could not find. She saw friends, siblings others mate and find happiness, and she would put herself to sleep each night alone.
“I’m not content to alone, I want someone all the time, I wont feel right until someone is at my side I want someone all the time”
It was a hunger for her, she did not feel complete until she would find her mate, a means to belong. To gain station with some great garou. Our enemy is a great terror, and nothing more terrifying than its ability to turn our own vices against us, our own weakness wielded like a weapon to cut us down. In this way they sent a garou to meet with this kinfolk. A Black Spiral Dancer, fallen to the Wyrm…an adept in disguise and trickery.
The kinfolk fell hard and fast, eager for love, and the Spiral eager to give it. As you can expect when romance is fire, her heart would soar. She would sing to her lover through the night.
”Forever and ever, you'll stay in my heart And I will love you Forever and ever we never will part Oh, how I'll love you Together, together, that's how it must be To live without you Would only mean heartbreak for me”
Soon, Tristana received what she thought was the most glorious of news. She was pregnant, a mother to be. Surely now she would be with this garou forever. He would meet her family, join the Sept and their future would be forged together. As you can expect in hindsight, this was not to be. Her family shocked by the news of the child began to ask questions. Tristana would be brought before the truth catcher, tears down her cheeks she would be questioned. She would be interrogated. The truth of her ‘mate’ would come out. The taint of the Wyrm growing inside of her, in the eyes of the garou it festered like disease…it was evil.
To Tristiana the Sorrowful, it was her baby.
As garou argued and debated what to be done with her, what to do with the baby. Tristana would flee into the darkness. Unknown to her, aided by banes that would cover her tracks, lead her along until she would find a small abandoned cabin at a river in a forest infrequented by patrols, infrequented by the Gaians. A land corrupted long ago.
Each day she would cry. Sorrow in her heart, lost and alone. Not even the Wyrm would come and console her. Some days she would long to end her own life, but she lacked the courage. And so time would pass, days would turn to weeks, weeks to month until the time the baby would be born.
With fear in her heart, worry deep to her soul she went to the riverbank. The pain of birth wracking her body. The pain of loss squeezing like a talon around her very spirit. She worried, what am I bringing into this world? Will it be clean, will it be monster? She would cry out
“This is my song of sorrow, What have I done, Living in a fantasy, Out of control, I am my own worst enemy, What have I done, This tragic comedy,”
The cries of the wee babe hit the air, as it takes its first breath. Exhausted and unable yet to look at her child she sets it upon the riverbank and weeps. Steeling herself , she has decided she would take the life of her child lest it grow to something monstrous. Her eyes open and she sets her eyes upon it, lifting it into her embrace. It was perfect, a beautiful child, light blonde hair just as her mother.
“I cannot do this, I must do right by you, Oh what have I done, My own worst enemy”
For a moment, there was a hint of hope. Maybe she can take her home, when the garou see such a child they couldn’t possibly harm her? But these thoughts of hope would be interrupted by the childs cries. No matter the consoling of Tristana nothing would stop it. Poor Tristana the Sorrowful, she could feel her child twisting in pain in her arms, unaware of what is going on, unaware of what to do. Dark claws would rip from the childs back upon spindly legs like a spider, the eyes of the child now blood red with hunger and rage. Tristana the Sorrowful would be the first meal of this new beast of the wyrm, born of her womb.
Vasyl stops then and exhales, this story has drained him emotionally just telling it. “In Tristana’s story we may weep, we may look on in horror.” He explains, “But take head of the lessons in the story. Our kinfolk, are more than just for us to breed, just to be mothers and fathers of our warriors. If that is all we are to treat them as we shall push them away.”
“When in conflict, do not miss the forest for the trees…see the danger before you, lest it escapes to haunt us another time, as Tristana’s child would. Hunting and killing garou and kinfolk for years to sate its hunger before it would finally fall at the hands of Silver Fang warriors.”
“Kindness, and healing, these can be weapons against the Wyrm as much as our own sins are weapons in its favor.” Vasyl adds, “See to your own sins, fight against them and stay upon the honorable path, lest you take the sweet seduction of our enemy.”
Vasyl's Fourth Story
"Sometimes, victory comes when everywhere you look is defeat." Vasyl begins, "When you think that all is lost and you have prepared to say good by to this life, hoping your spirit will live on with your descendants. Yet you can find victory nonetheless." The Fang says smiling.
"So it is with the tale of a unified European garou and the Blood Demon."
"There are many dark times in the history of Europe. Wars, plagues, famine...some by the Wyrms hand some by simple evil of man. One dark time across Eastern Europe came because of a creature of the Wyrm simply known to time as the Blood Demon." The Galliard explains as he begins to walk in a circle.
"This creature spread across territories as a horror and as a conqueror." Vasyl adds, "I do not know /what/ he was. Some say he was a powerful vampire... As yes, his abilities were similar. Others say he was a fomori of some sort, an avatar of lust for blood. I do not know. What I do know is it was evil. It was intelligent and it was death incarnate for many."
Waving his hands across the expanse of the caern in a sweeping motion, Vasyl rumbles out, "he swept across territories, first outside of the protectorate of the garou. Killing all as he would go. Gathering upon him armies of the undead, corpses once again walking the earth as mindless and unending soldiers in his war on life itself."
"As he expanded it was only a matter of time before he set upon the garou. Even as we work in packs, he outnumbered his foes with his drone corpses." Vasyl sighs softly, "Soon the dead garou would join that army of death, twisted things of bone and claw... I, myself, hope I never see an undead garou." He emphasizes, "The horrors the garou and kin of that day had before them."
"it was Adrik Rozhkov Howls-of-Light, Galliard of the Silver Fangs that first began to gather the European tribes to battle this army. He knew that, alone, they could not defeat such an endless force."
Howls-of-Light would call out;
"Fight for the living - Fight for the world Brothers, sister stand by my side Fight for the living - Fight for the world This foe before us has only one thing on its mind - Death! Fight for the living - Fight for the world!"
"His stories persuasive, the threat real. What happened next was something that, in itself, was glorious. Soon, packs of the tribes began to show up upon the battlefield. Shadow Lords, Fianna, Get of Fenris, Black Furies and Children of Gaia all gathered under the banner of Falcon and his Silver Fangs!"
He nods a few times. Proud of the moment in history; for a second caught up imagining it - The garou of the tribes gathered together for war. "There was much excitement that day...and with that excitement came plans for war, and war itself. At first it went so well, the undead was no match for the unified forces of those European garou. Their remains scattered across the land in the rage blessed upon us by Gaia and Luna!"
There is a dramatic pause.
"However, a time came then when the Blood Demon took the field."
Another dramatic pause.
"The Blood Demon would rally his forces, marching mindlessly towards the garou as he himself took a Great War form, a monstrous beast with great claws and wings like a bat with razor sharp talons along his back!"
"I am the overlord My very shadow brings them fear The claws upon my hand, talons upon my wing Will grind them out, we are immortal!"
Vasyl circles again, "to say the garou fought valiantly is an understatement. They fought and died against wave of death. Making progress. No doubt breaking the army down... But being backed down all the way. Bit-by-bit strategically retreating until it was one garou of each tribe left standing upon the hallowed grounds of a Black Fury Sept known then as the Sept of the Infinite Well. In this moment of despair it was once again the Galliard that rallied the garou..."
Howls-of-Light spoke:
"Fight for the living - Fight for the world! We are the defenders Gaia chose Fight for the living - Fight for the world! Be proud, let him face our storm! Fight for the living - Fight for the world!"
With a great howl from the Get of Fenris warrior that day, Bjorn "Slayer-of-Giants" Audunsson would step forward first, taking on the Blood Demon in single combat... Rooting himself to the holy grounds of the caern in a last stand, a heroes stand! Soon the other garou joined him, a unified pack of elders working in unison as a perfect pack in its perfect moment of time. It was destiny."
They fought four hours - Some say all through the night - To the single moment. The Blood Demon finally weak enough that they were able to have him surrounded and in defeat, yet unable to slay the beast of the Wyrm, this creature of death as if death had no way to touch him. It lived on."
"At that point a plan was hatched, the creature imprisoned within the Infinite Well at the caern, a ritual performed by the garou and a large stone obelisk placed upon it to seal it. Carved into the stone by each garou the glyph of their tribe, a portion of their spirit, of their very soul given to that stone to forever seal the horror beneath."
"This is the story of the Blood Demon."
"This is the story of how the Sept of the Sentinel Stone gained its name."
Vasyl's Fifth Story
“Strategy.” Vasyl begins his tale, “Strategy is important to any attack, any battle, and any challenge before us.” He emphasizes. “Without strategy you may be doomed to failure. So it was with the Witches of the Emerald Flame.”
“You see, the Witches of the Emerald Flame were Magi, some say they were kinfolk to the Black Spiral Dancers, and perhaps they were…because they certainly did the Wyrm’s work, knowingly or not.” He goes on to explain, “They would travel the world, siphoning the spiritual power from any place they could. Eliminating so many areas that had the potential to be a strong caern…eventually their hunger grew however, they wanted more. They wanted to take a caern from us.”
“They knew that just walking in and trying to take it would be foolish, so they plotted and they planned, they plotted and planned. So certain of their power, so certain that as magi they would be able to dispose of the garou…by first killing their alpha, Kristof Rustivich Might-of-the-Wind.” The silver fang galliard explains.
None can fight the power none can fight the heavens Secrets of all life and death are carried there within our magick Call out to the power of the darkness and balefire’s light Have dominion of the earth be lord of all the night Kill the alpha who stands against us look into this eyes Drink his blood and laugh as he pays for all his days dance upon his graves then cast a final spell Into the night we fly, we send him to hell!”
“Get him alone, away from his pack!” Vasyl chuckles a bit, “So certain that their numbers would win the day, that their power would be greater than a mere garou. How dangerous could /one/ garou be afterall? They were about to find out.
“They waited until he was away from the caern, on patrol with his pack.” Vasyl explains the Witches plan, “Then with powers like that of the greatest Lune’s they teleported him away from his pack in a flash of light!” he nods, “When next Might-of-the-Wind opened his eyes he was in the sanctum of the Witches, surrounded by the four willworkers…”
When they see me they will run for their lives To the end the witches will pay for their lies So long have I fought, I will protect my home
Here once again there's a battle to fight These witches shall tremble before my might So long have I fought, I will protect my home
“They spread out, one moved to block the door…so sure that the wolf would try and flee. But escape was not on the Silver Fang Ahroun’s mind.” Vasyl begins to explain the foolish plan, “The next true its ritual knife to attack the Alpha at close range, so sure of their victory!” he then adds, “The last two thought to assault the very mind, the will of Gaia within Might-of-the-Wind to have him crumble in mental anguish.”
“Wracked with pain, his greatest fears playing across his mind, Might-of-the-Wind steeled himself against the mental attcks, calling upon the gifts to Block out the attacks on the Mind!” Vasyl grins wide now, “In an instant he called upon his rage and took on his great war form. He moved at speeds the Witches never could have guessed. One by one he tore them asunder, blood soaking the stone floor of their sanctum.” Begins to speak quite animatedly, every good storyteller loves a good tale of victory, even if its lopsided in the Garou’s favor, perhaps especially if so.
“The first, the one with the dagger, Might-of-the-Wind leaped upon him, knocking him to the floor. Knife in hand, it was ripped from his body entire limb tossed aside as his fangs then clenched down on the throat, training the life from him.”
“The next two, those that would dare to inflict their will upon the Silver Fangs mind would be struck down by claw, their innards ripped from their body, the two trip over each other trying to escape the fury of claws sharpened by stone and already drenched in blood.”
“Garou are never alone, his pack joined him by Moon Bridge shortly, but by the time they got there it was too late for them to gain any glory. Only one of the Magi was left, green balefire in his eyes as he desperately attacked Might-of-the-Wind, each blow shrugged off, the hellish flame having no effect as Luna shone her favor upon him that day. Her soft body no match for the power and ferocity of the Ahroun.” Vasyl states matter of factly, an chuckle at such a victory before he sighs and gets serious once more.
“I have heard legend of great wizards and mages, powerful magick that can wipe out garou. Such stories are of prepared and wise minds…not like this cabal of amateurs. Still there are lessons to be learned. 1: Never underestimate what even one foe can do 2: When in war, do not just mindless attack, even the greatest Ahroun is better when he has proper strategy.”
