Let the wolves of the mistwalkers run through the night.
Their howls shall spread and signal the fight.
How they fare,
as blood is shed,
Will determine all fates tonight.
Spread out pack and follow the alpha,
Strike the blows and send the foe out.
Make them run,
Make them flee,
Tonight we show our bravery!
until your last!
The Mistwalkers run towards the fight,
we'll defend this world with all our might!
|Last of the Ages
Played to the tune of: [Age of Oppression]
We drink to our youth, to the days come and gone.
For the last of the Ages is now nearly done.
We'll drive out the Wyrm from this land that we own.
With our claws and our steel we will take back our home.
Down with Neen'it, the defiler of things!
On the day of your cleansing we'll drink and we'll sing!
We're the children of Gaia and we fight all our lives,
When Apocalypse beckons, every one of us dies!
But this land is ours and we'll see it wiped clean,
Of the scourge that has sullied our hopes and our dreams.
All hail to Albrecht! You are our high King!
To your great renown we dance and we sing!
We're the children of Gaia and we fight all our lives,
When Apocalypse beckons, every one of us dies!
We drink to our youth, to the days come and gone.
For the last of the Ages is now nearly done.
| Grumpy Puss
Grumpy Puss went hunting, for a sandwich late one night.
He looked here ... and he looked there, but he couldn't find a bite.
His tummy started *growling* and he howled up at the moon,
Some woman had to feed him, and it had to be right soon!
He searched in every kitchen, and every fire-lit glade
But one and all were empty! He couldn't find a maid!
They all have gone out hunting, stalking their own prey,
No-one will make a sand-wich for Grumpy Puss today!
He looked up to the moon, all silver in the sky
Weak and faint with hunger, he finally asked her "Why?"
She said "They are your equals in bravery and deed,
"So learn to cook you own food, they've kinder mouths to feed."
He's still searching every kitchen, every fire-lit glade
One and all are empty, He'll never find a maid
They all are still out hunting, stalking their own prey.
No-one will make a sandwich for Grumpy Puss today.
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| Kinfolk's Triumph
Imagine, if you will, a night like any other. A night of winter. Clouds absent in the sky and the moon full above! Snow upon the ground, deep and fresh, barely dented here and there by passing wildlife.
The pack, five strong. Ahroun! Galliard! Theurge! Philodox! Ragabash! The natural pack. Through the snow they had come, hours before sunset, to set the ambush and wait upon the prey they they would conquer this night. The prey, a foe they had met before. A foe that had wounded several of them and nearly killed the pack on one occasion. Tonight, the pack was determined. The prey would fall, or they would!
The Ahroun, cocky but sure. Veteran of many hunts and Adren. He set his pack in a manner that he hoped would funnel the prey straight to him. The Galliard, a little behind the Ahroun. The Philodox and Theurge, to either flank of those two and a little ahead. The Ragabash, free ranging and looking, seeking the first signs of the foe that will be coming. Hours after sunset, when it was close to midnight, the Galliard stood, the Crinos form a black speck against the white of the snow. Out came a howl. Ahauntingly sickly sweet sound. Full of Challenge and command. The Call of the Wyrm! The one way they were sure to lure this prey to their trap!
From that moment, the pack went still. Well, all but the Ragabash. He could never sit still more than a moment before the urge to do /something/ overwhelmed him. It seemed like hours to them before the signal of an approach came through the link of the pack to those who waited in ambush."
From out of the Gloom came the being that they were set to ambush. The woman. The thorn in their sides. The foe who nearly destroyed the pack. She was all of five feet in height with a slim build. Her looks were nothing special. She could have been your neighbor or you could have passed her on the street and never known it. Yet, here she came, in answer to the call of the Wyrm.
Straight towards the ambush this unassuming woman stepped. The cold of the night and snow seeming to have no effect upon her. Within fifty feet of the Ahroun did the woman come before an Arrow from the right, a spear from the left, and a knife from the front came hurralling towards the woman! And yet! Every shot, missed.
The woman stood there in the snow, smirking at the garou who surrounded her now. Three shots, no hits. A pack of this kind has never had that sort of failure, especially in an ambush. Surrounded, ahroun and galliard in the front, Theurge and Philodox flanking, with a ragabash in the back, the woman continued to smirk. Then finally, she began to grow. Her height rapidly going above seven feet as she revealed her own crinos form, the fur matted in spots, a foul smell emenating from her with the transformation. 'My turn!' The crinos growled at the pack before quickly turning about to seize the wrists of the ragabash who thought to sneak up. A quick flick and she sent him flying over the ahroun and into the galliard!
Down two members of the pack in one move, the Theurge and Philodox move in quickly, both with sharp claws shining in the moonlight while the Ahroun stalks closer for his chance. They lasted barely longer than the Ragabash before having to withdraw, bleeding profusely from the shredded wounds from the barbed talons of the one they fight. The Ahroun saw his chance, despite the prey seemingly still fresh.
Into a fierce battle the Ahroun and the prey raged! Not a single animal for miles stayed around with the rage that flowed. Behind the Ahroun, the Galliard had recovered, sent the ragabash to collect the rest of the pack. Standing there, watching, the galliard used the gift of distraction to try and give aid to the ahroun until the pack was gathered. Still, the Ahroun waged his war on the prey. Both Prey and Ahroun showing the wear of the fight!
For nearly half an hour the Ahroun and the prey waged war. Blood flowed freely from both! But all fights must end and with a strike that was faster than lightning, the Ahroun went down. Ribs crushed, chest gaping wide. It looked like the pack might finally have found their last stand.
BAAAAAAAAAAAAAANNNNG!!!! The gunshot echoes off the cliff face as Darla stands there, a wry smirk upon her lips as she waits for a moment. Off in the shadows, one of her kin holds up the rifle that made the shot into the air, grinning like a madwoman.
The shot echoed across the snow strewn forest! The bullet, made of silver, streaked from the unseen gun to rip through the chest of the monstrosity who towered over the ahroun. Ripped, through the one who thought to deliver the finishing blow to the one who kept her from claiming victory over the pack that harried her at every turn.
Seeing their chance, the pack members still on their feet moved in a rush to rend the prey limb from limb. Fur, bone, blood, they sent it every where as they sought to rid the world of their nemesis. In but a moment, it was over and their prey was no more. But where did the shot come from if all the members of the pack were accounted for? None of them used guns, especially not ones that fired silver.
It was the Ragabash who spotted her. Off in the darkness, downwind and shivering in the cold of the night. The rifle held in her unsteady hands. The young teenager, kinfolk of the ahroun. Foolish enough to follow the pack after being ordered to stay at the Bawn. Barely seventeen years old, but an inch over five feet in height and tiny in comparison to the garou of the pack. It was the kinfolk. The one who, though foolish, was brave enough to follow, to wait, and to strike. Brave enough to save the ahroun of her tribe with a single shot, though it might have cost her the life she has. That night, they all returned home, triumphant and Alive. The smallest among them struck the deciding blow. Never forget that though they may not be Garou, without them, we would be but a fraction of our strength.
I tell this story to entertain and to remind the sept that no matter who you are, there is always a way for you to contribute. This was but one way. If you wish to challenge it, that is up to you. If you wish to take the words to heart, that is up to you. If you wish to just enjoy the story, that is up to you. The actions are not for everyone. But they shouldn't be shunned either. If we want this sept to survive the coming trials, our kin must be strong. So take from the story what you wish. It is just a story. Now, if there is nothing else, enjoy the food /my/ kinfolk prepared and the warmth of the fire /my/ kinfolk started, and enjoy your night.
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|A Challenge Each
By the light of the moon, Garou arose.
To Umbra deep. Debts Billy owes.
Kin and 'rou, all go through.
A challenge each we had to close.
Archways rose into the night.
Luna full, round and bright.
To each his own, on top the stone.
Through the arch we each must fight.
Fire, earth, wind and fire.
Each stone archway, higher and higher.
To each his own, the arch well known.
Family is swallowed. Tests transpire.
The challenges wore on through the day.
Patience short. Nerves a fray.
Every return. Platform churn.
Day turned night and night to day.
When at last, all challenges fought.
Return home! Their train of thought.
But Billy's test- nigh confessed!
He disappeared. Fail, he must not.
The platform rose, gaining height!
Sept Alpha heard groaning in the night!
His wound was red! The blood, it spread!
Aldulfr soothes with healing Rite.
Joined together, cleansed as one.
Altar smashed! Taint undone.
Uktena did smile. All, worthwhile.
Honor and Glory for each one!
|"Lady of Justice"
--a poem in tribute to the attributes of Themis,
performed at the disbanding of her pack, Dreamer's Justice
The pangs of Luna, fierce and long
Lasted for a full fortnight.
Laughter, order, combat, wisdom, song;
These were the five children's birthrights.
Of all these five there was but one
Who understood all the others;
'Twas the one born 'neath the half moon
That grasped each sister and brother.
The warrior was quickly riled,
And the trickster laughed, undeterred,
While the crescent cloud-walked, beguiled,
all chronicled by the Galliard.
It made for much of rivalry:
Fists flew, talons tore, brash laughter brayed,
Riddles puzzled, and useless stories
Filled the hours in pointless play
Until the middle sibling stood
And stretched her arms unto each side.
"You're a worthless lot: selfish, rude,
Ignorant, and full of pride.
"Siblings, get your shit together,
And let us act as one, a pack
Meant to act as Her defenders,
Not fall to internecine attacks."
"But I'm first," the New Moon countered,
"And I am strongest," said Ahroun.
"I am the wisest," argued Theurge,
"I'm all and more," spoke Gibbous Moon.
"No," said the Half Moon. "And no, again.
Siblings, these do not make you best.
/I/ know laughter, wisdom, pain;
Hear these words from deep within my breast:
"You all have gifts, but all are fools,
Thinking each, yourself, the greatest,
But my duty is to lay down rules,
Judge, speak peace, and quash hatred.
"Ahroun and Galliard, you are rash.
Trickster, your lies ensure none trust.
Crescent, the spirits are your task,
So /I/ will lead, as is just.
"Sing of Glory, fight for our Mother,
Honor the spirits at our sides;
Distract our foes, my clever brother,
With Wisdom ever as your guide!"
So we honor the Philodox,
For she who stands neither there nor here
Balances upon a mountaintop,
And e'en blind sees more than seers.
-- Soul Uncaged, August 06 2015
|The Thorne In Our Side|
Arrow, spear, sword, axe, gun, fang and talon
Brought to bear against the foe we challenged
Thrust and sliced and shot and bit and impaled
In Raging, violent storm: a bloody gale.
Lightning cracked -- both ours and theirs -- and bullets rained,
But ours were stronger, guided, better aimed
So that armor splintered, failed, and blood poured
Through riddling holes to fall upon the floor.
Thunder crashed and roofs collapsed: foes did fall
To be trampled by bearers of shield walls,
Engines that that made mockeries of missiles;
We laughed even as those bullets whistled.
Great spirits came to lend their children aid:
Firedrake the Fierce, master of War and Rage,
Themis the Just, Great Lady, Dream-Weaver,
And Coyote, Trickster, trouble-seeker.
Great Firedrake breathed, demanding sacrifice,
Claiming armored, well-armed guards as his price,
Rend'ring useless their weapons and defense,
Their foul lives and their ammunition spent.
Great Themis wove within her tapestry
Great boons for us, preserving mysteries
So that technology could tell no tales:
She charmed the Weaver to maintain our Veil.
Ever-impatient, the Trickster had leaped
To the fray, and we found him there, fangs deep
Within Fomorian giant eyes, both sharp and strong.
He challenged us: why'd we take so damn long?
We struck from on high and struck from below,
Several strong packs battering the foe,
And e'en the packless harried the fomor
Until it failed, fallen to Wolves of War.
Its foul corpse collapsed, seeking wolves to crush,
But the dragon-spirit roared, and fire rushed
To sear the flesh and blunt the fell deadfall,
Protecting all those who followed War's call.
Struck with terror, coward servants scattered;
Guards abandoned posts, bloody, bruised, battered,
Desperation lending speed to their feet
And they ran in foolish, panicked retreat.
But wolves are keen hunters, vengeful trackers,
And thus are implacable attackers:
Loosed and unleashed, they brought the foe to bay
And claimed the hearts and heads of their foul prey.
Howl, wolves! The battle's done, and victory
Is ours, hard-won with strength and strategy,
With spirit and fetish, with tooth and nail,
With Gaia's own blessing. How could we fail?
Sing with me, brothers! Lift your voices up!
Dance! Howl! Laugh! Shout! And let us share a cup
In celebration of Glory and pride:
That damned Thorne's soon no longer in our side!
-- Soul Uncaged, March Moot 2015
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|The Tale of Bloody Stone|
Darla didn't think she'd have such an audience when she offers this, but as she turns in a circle there in the center of the room she cannot help but to smile. This is what Galliards live for, the telling of tales and deeds! "Have a seat." she orders gruffly to those arriving. "Now. This story is that of the Adren, Bloody Stone. The Man who has sought to claim alpha of the sept we are forming in our search for the lost Caern of the mountains." she speaks clearly and firmly, standing in the dead center of the room.
"They were together for eight years, this pack that followed the one we call Quetzecoatl. Their mission was that of Justice, to seek out the wrongs of this word that were brought forth by the wyrm and right them so that Gaia and the Wyld could flourish. They were Swift Justice!" As she speaks, as she gets into a small rhythm, she starts moving about the room. "They would travel far and wide, though they loosely called the Ute Mountain home.
"Our Adren of Ute Mountain was known as Bloody Knife at that time. There was Desert Stone, another Full Moon! Moss Covered, Crescent moon! Bone of Sorry, Ahroun! Despaecibidio, of the Bone Gnawers! A full pack was Swift Justice." Darla looks towards her two packmates for a moment before letting her gaze flow over them all. "It was Two years ago that the fateful time came for Swift Justice to bring to bare their full might, and two years ago that this story takes place!"
"To the South the pack was to go, trouble at the Texas and Mexico border on the outskirts of the city of El Paso!" Darla intones, voice firm but steady as she finishes setting the scene of the tale. "They were not told what trouble as they made, with all haste, their way to El Paso but that did not stop them. They would succeed on this mission just like any other that they have faced, for they were unbeaten!"
"A leech named Umbreto Frederico Guillermo de Oso Valentin, who dressed like a monk, and hid in the sewers and caves, because he was so hideous was the contact of Despaecidio. Not their favored kind of contact, but the trouble was worse even than of the blood suckers!" She clenches and fist before herself as if promise to come back to the leeches. "Some of the pack wanted to kill him where he stood, but the information on the greater threat was too valuable. So they followed him, this despicable leech on the world, to where he showed the pack a grouping of bodies of drug users. All were dead from what they used. Their bodies used as Incubators for the trouble that the pack came to defeat!"
Darla pauses here for the moment, here eyes hard as she looks towards the cliaths of the group, lupus and homid both. "This is why we don't accept the chemicals and drugs of those who seek the high that isn't naturally given." Her eyes narrow some at the sight of the near face. "I, for one, do not want some bane growing inside of me, turning me into that which we fight."
"For Two days!" her voice rings out clear once more. "swift Justice watched over the indicated place that the drugs were being distributed. It was being shown as Meth and the results were despicable for those against such a thing, and beyond expectations for those encouraging such a ROT!" The last word echoes through the room with the movement of the Child of Gaia. She shakes her head. "Despecidio and Moss Covered were picked up by a cop during this time after hearing of them snooping around. He knew, though his only explanation was that people tell stories, but he knew what they were. He helped the pack capture one of the dealers so they could get information." She shakes her head a little at this point. "The dealer's girlfriend was taken by those distributing the meth, one Oscuro Montana. Even in the face of the garou, this dealer was more afraid of Montana. Bone Sorrow put him down."
"The pack needed answers and so they scattered through the cities of El Paso and Ciudad Juarez." Darla continues, moving slowly along the curve of the room before the group. "Their efforts were fruitless and when they returned, they returned to find the skull of their contact, the vampire, with this warning written upon it." She comes to a stop again and her next words are full of ominous force. "If you want Oscuro Montana, come to the this address. A ridgeline, between Interstate 10 and the Univeristy of texas at El paso campus."
"A pack unbeaten. A pack never before challenged to their fullest is one sure to be cocky and carefree. They were the best that Gaia had to offer!" she slowly steps back towards the center of the room. "They had their gifts! They had their Claws! They had their Rage and they had their fetishes! HOw could the best lose when they brought their full might to bear upon the wyrm?!"
Darla turns her back upon the audience now, her eyes looking at the far curve of the room. "It was June fourteenth, a little past one in the morning. It was the dead of night on the ridgeline that they were told to be at. They knew it was the enemy's ground and still they went. As they waited, A single silver cadillac escalade pulled up and three men got out. A fourth man joined them, though this man was huge! Still, men they were and so the confidant pack flew down the ridgeline to meet this foe who would come with so few against the pack so mighty!"
"Oscuro Montana, the big man of the Escalade. He stood there as the pack flowed forward like Custard at Little Big Horn!" Darla glances over her shoulder at the group gathered and grins ferally. "Calm like the night the man stood as the pack grew closer. Calm. Calm until he began to grow. Up to fifthteen feet in height! His head extended like a lantern fish. Four eyes, two arms on each side with Talons for feet! He was a monster!" she breathes the last sentence before turning fully to face her audience. "The men with him looked like there was nothing out of the ordinary as they stood there with their machine guns filled with silver." She crosses her arms, taking in a deep breath. "Never hesitating, Descipidio pulls out his barrett he stole from a previous mission and as the pack flowed forward he dispatched the three men. One! Two! Three! Down they went with a bullet each! They couldn't lose!"
Darla slowly shakes her head as she recalls the next moments of the story. "That's when the buses came. Along the highway, three of them. They veered suddenly off the highway and through the protective fencing. When they finally came to a halt it was like a flood gate had been released as the fomori drained from the buses. Ninety or more of them came for the pack and still Oscuro Montana stood calm and still! A retreat! Tacitcal and well thought out. It was time for plan B! A retreat to a nearby stadium. They never thought they'd be running from the wyrm that night!"
"Despaecidio went to the light tower, shooting for all his worth!" Darla continues, lining up an imaginary gun and taking shots at the invisible oppoents. "Still, he couldn't keep them off Bone of Sorrow who was caught by that torrent of wyrm! He was the best fighter Bloody Knife had ever seen and that night he took scores of the enemy down with him before the blunt tooth demon that was Oscuro Montana reached him. The demon took a limb in each hand and ripped Bone of Sorry to pieces!" her voice is a growl as she tells of it.
"Bone of Sorrow's sacrifice bought the pack a few precious moments of time, though the sight of their packmate being eaten from the middle was nearly enough to send them to a frenzy." Darla states, voice filled with remorse at the loss of the garou. "Moss Covered had reached the base of the stadium and called to her pack to 'Find a Last stand!'" Darla's foot stomps on the floor where she stands. "Moss Covered then turned to face the hordes and summoned forth Phoenix! The bird of fire and rebirth! Phoenix came forth at the summons, swooping through the hordes and burning so many that huge swathes of the horde was decimated! The pack wasn't done yet!"
"Hope was RENEWED!" Darla declares loudly, holding up her hands, her fingers curled into fists. She holds the position for a moment before her arms drop with a thud to her sides. "That was when Bloody Knife heard the howl from Desert Stone. The Blunt Tooth demon had thrown a car across such a huge distance." she lets out a soft sigh. "Moss Covered took the full force of the car as she was slammed hard into the stadium and rejoined her ancestors."
Darla is silent for a long moment, her gaze cast down to the floor at her feet. Finally though, she looks back up and resumes. "Bone of Sorrow was the greatest warrior Bloody Knife had ever seen and yet now.. now, Desert Stone was like Fenrir and Wendigo combined! For every one that Bloody knife killed, Desert Stone took three! Once again the hordes faced an unstoppable force! A true warrior of Gaia who was hell bent on driving them back to the very pits they came and beyond!" A brief pause once more. "Then it came." she whispers.
"Every warrior of Gaia has the beast inside. The Rage that we each face every day, that we bring forth to battle the Wyrm wherever it may be." Darla states as if giving a lecture. Her eyes once more seek out each of her audience. "Bloody Knife let loose the beast and let the rage flow! He leapt for that blunt tooth demon and drove his spear through its shoulder as he leapt upon its back! Still, the demon was quicker! It grabbed Bloody Knife and was positioning him like it had Bone of Sorrow. They both knew what was coming."
"From out of no where, Desert Stone appeared! He was Fenrir personified! Wendigo's anger let free! Gaia's wrath UNLEASHED!" Darla declares. "Desert Stone moved like lightning and took the creatures right arms at the wrist with a single blow!" Darla's arms go through the motions of the slice. He never saw that blow coming that sent him flying over a hundred feet into the wall of the stadium where that proud, strong warrior died to rejoin his ancestors along with Moss Covered and Bone of Sorrow."
"All this time, Despaecidio was up in the light tower, shooting and shooting, taking down fomori with every bullet he had." Darla grins. "He's the one who saw Bloody knife draw forth the ordinary, mundane knife he bought from a sporting goods store a while back. Not a fetish, not a talen. Just a knife. Still in the grip of the demon, he drew this knife and stabbed it through the eye of the demon up to the wrist. They would not fall here! Though with a howl of pain, the demon fell upon the car that he threw at Moss Covered, having been striding forward with every moment, taking Bloody knife down with him."
Darla stands at attention once more. "From that very car that killed Moss Covered, Bloody Knife took the drive shaft and ripped it from the frame so as to use it to stab the demon. Bloody Knife still does not know how many times he stabbed the demon with that drive shaft. He'll never know. All he remembers is not stopping until his lone surviving pack mate came down from his perch and stopped him. The demon was dead. the Fomori were dead." She gives a firm nod. "They did what had to be done and left. They didn't even clean up though the battle never made the news with the grace of Gaia. So many of the pack died that night, but together they took down a force that, left alone, could have devastated the world."
"Bloody Knife took the name of his packmate to honor him and is now known as Bloody Stone. He gained the rank of Adren upon the corpses of his packmates and that of the wyrm slain that night." Darla once more takes a deep breath. "We fight the Wyrm wherever it's found with all we have. We honor those who do so and fall. We honor those who do so and succeed. Remember your pack. Keep your heads about you and remember to never underestimate those who seek to destroy all that Gaia created."
--as told by Shattered Echoes
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|A Call to Arms
Thundering howls filled the night,
a thousand claws and blades flashed bright
as brothers and sisters and spirits and Kin
marched and soared afoot and on wing
to Rage and rend the Enemy
for Gaia, Glory, victory!
-- Soul Uncaged, at Thorne Industries July 17 2015
|The Allied March
"Through smold'ring gates
While man and beast
Prepare and feast
And Lightning Folk
their cantrips spoke.
Has spilled, a flood
in homage to
'til battle's end.
"Now let us go
Unto the foe:
March claw in hand,
My strange warband,
For Gaia, glory,
-- Soul Uncaged, at Thorne Industries, July 17 2015
Gavin Heckley, pompous witch,
Breaker of our Litany,
Disrespectful whelp and fool,
Kinfolk that should never be;
and Dawn, Healer espousing rape,
Mated to Breaker-of-Names
Who spelled himself to be her Kin;
I call you abominations, Gaia's shame.
The Breaker speaks with arrogance
And twisted tongue: he boldly claims
That witches want our Mother's blood,
A resource that they /wouldn't/ drain.
Did you hear the Self-Made Kin?
He thinks neither with nor of the spirits.
Caerns are naught but currency.
This he writes; openly admits.
Our legends warn of warlocks, witches,
Sorcerers and Lightning Folk
Who twist the Triat, serve themselves,
and break the laws that Gaia spoke.
They are not the Mother's Chosen;
They have no lawful claim nor right
To hold the Mother's glens or caerns,
To tend these hallowed, sacred sites.
Will we allow our Mother's life
To rest in hands of Witch and Bear
Who cannot show proper respect
And cannot give Her proper care?
I ask you for your wisdom, elders:
What will you do about this Mage?
Tricksters, seekers, judges, bards,
And warriors: when will we Rage?
-- Soul Uncaged, Aug. 21 2015
|Word of Mouth|
I met a man named Gavin Heckley.
We went to the Mission to have tea.
Regarding Lo Pan,
To talk. His manners absolutely beastly.
"Lo Pan is a powerful Nephandus,"
"A bad guy, evil.. callous."
Prove it, he can't.
A guess, he shan't.
But positive, none-the-less.
He said he has servants, or minion.
His bidding they do hereupon.
They're ruthless. They kill.
On that, they thrill.
One such is named Kim Vachon.
He said Kim isn't necessarily 'evil'.
But does what she's tasked. Until,
A loophole is found.
And then she's not bound
the job given to fulfil.
In Chicago's Chinatown Pan is trapped.
Because of this, his minions are apt
to get the job done.
Mercy to no one.
Nia, the kin, got capped.
Kim is a member of the mages 'greater group'.
I asked Gavin to give me the scoop.
Her methods he disagrees with,
but no information forthwith.
Well, shit. Actually, I used the word poop.
He said he was "more than through,
with douchey bullies, you know who.
Who sit and they shit
on everyone they see fit."
And by 'bullies' he means Garou.
He told me he wouldn't paint a target
for a slight that was purposely made unmet.
He stood and he said,
Give -ME- info instead.
Which ended our tete-a-tete.
Maya, the mage, was forthcoming.
A 'Jade Demon' is the shooter of Ms. King.
Jade Demon is akin,
to a BSD twin.
Too powerful for one pack, she's betting.
"Our suspicions are that an agent
of the Jade Demon is trouble foment.
Lo Pan is his name,
fully to blame.
She said after some extent.
I searched for info regarding
his employees, his life, his bedding.
Nothing much I could see
was uncovered by me.
Though up the tree I was barking.
~Sofia, Loose Leaf.
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|Wrong Way Kenowski|
"Have you heard the tale of Wrong Way Kenowski?
"Kenowski was born to an all-female commune held by the rabble, urban urrah primitives declaring that all men were good for was studding. So even after this Garou son was born they sent other Garou to him when he was of age, because glutting the population with the mistborn is a surefire way to gain more warriors for Gaia. It's not like there are going to be future generations, right? So Kenowski happily sired these mules up to the point of his First Change, because /then/ it became a big no-no.
"When confronted, he claimed ignorance. Poor guy.
"It should be mentioned Kenowski was Ahroun by birth. But he was in truth a very cerebral cub, always wondering about the spirits rather than practicing his weapons work, curious about talens and fetishes and befriending everything rather than fighting. It was a happy happenstance that one of his friends gave him a weapon, so he could give a nod to his duty under Luna's full-faced auspice.
"Clever boy, that Kenowski.
"When it came time for the Rite of Passage, it was decided that tradition didn't matter. Rather than test the boy's ability to fight the wyrm, the higher-ups sent him to scout. And scout he did! And he found many foes! And then he ran away! Ran right back to claim his name.
"Also, he is homophobic.
"As soon as he had his name and rank he began flinging himself at a Kinfolk that had eluded him for a number of reasons: he was kind of clueless about Garou what with that lamentable upbringing, he kind of abandoned his duty to Luna for a good while what with being a scout and coward, he was kind of a worthless warrior what with being afraid of a little blood, there were better suitors to pick from, and so on. So what he decided to do -- logically -- was pledge himself and hope that this Kinfolk would notice him. He swore that one day -- ONE DAY! -- she would eventually be his.
"And then he did his damnedest to be Mr. Mom, the most domestic werewolf you ever did see.
"Kenowski pined, and Kenowski sighed, and over time acted less and less like a Garou until he was in danger of losing his Wolf. Then he was alarmed, for he remembered what his commune-mothers had taught him: that when a Garou loses the Wolf, he becomes Kinfolk.
"Realizing what a terrible fate it is to be Kinfolk, he tried to cheer up his own unrequited love, bringing /her/ unrequited love back to her at a big dinner party. It was a marvelous surprise! A great idea! What could go wrong? She gasped, and, not at all embarrassed or wishing to slink away or cry because of humiliation and unreconciled abandonment and not at all feeling betrayed or made a spectacle of in her very own home, she flung herself into the arms of her old love -- who suddenly had a change of heart -- and they lived happily ever after.
"At this, Wrong Way Kenowski smiled, for he knew he'd done a good deed. The greatest deed! He was such a thoughtful boy."
- Soul Uncaged, July 31 2015
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|The Good, The Bad and the Stupid
To all those who serve faithfully,
Who in Gaia and caern invest,
Who shoulder tasks, perform their duties,
I commend you, siblings of the Sept.
All guards, informants, hunters, scouts,
All couns'lors, teachers of the Ways,
All trainers in harsh sparring bouts,
All learning rites: I sing your praise.
To all those who love foolishness,
I spit upon your filthy deeds.
You reap and sow your own contempt;
Behold now your stupidity:
For lust a blind fool's Umbral-tossed,
Pride prevents apologies,
And our very /caern/ could have been lost
To delib'rate-breached security.
Siblings of this stony Sept,
Let your voice of justice speak:
Praise worthiness, spurn the inept,
And remind all of the proper creeds.
-- Souls Uncaged
The fiery drake bespoke his legless cousin of the silver wings
and after that approached the shadowed storm-born scourge of foolish kings.
The dragons three spoke of the past, the present, and of future things,
and then their ire incarnate sought council greater even than his kin.
So Uktena spoke, a subtle susurration in the dark,
his cold-hearted hiss concerned with conflagrations sparked
by arrogance incarnate, pride found deep within the hearts
of selfish wizards fanning Rage of Septmates grown apart.
Then Firedrake sought spirits of dark truths, those sharp of mind and of wit,
who know much of many things, wise in ways of man and of spirit.
They said this much: the Wolves' information was not clear; it is not fit
to target the wrong wizard: it's Giles that the Sept must hit.
'Xerxes Extremis,' Coyote named him, dictator of terms, possessor of minds,
who invaded and then threatened the Shadow Lord and all his kind.
Bacchus knew of Gavin and his drugs, but the pair of totems did not find
the Bear-mate to be greatest threat. In this all totems were aligned.
Listen, septmates! Hear these words! Hear what our totems have to say:
"Wolves, do not be so distracted; forget not the purpose of your Ways.
Hone yourselves, Fangs of the Mother, to fight against the Final Days;
Staving off the Apocalypse is the purpose of your Rage.
"Punish mages; even kill them. Such is left within your hands,
but first heed words of wisdom: first go seek the Rowan's lands.
Answer to the ancient's quest, side by side and hand in hand,
and do your true duty to Gaia. Now go and make your stand."
I cannot understand
the love of Mother to Daughter;
I cannot understand
the groans of the gravid
or the pangs of labor.
I'm not a man of Ulster.
But you cannot understand
the love of Father to Daughter;
You cannot understand
the high hopes that I had
in my paternal pride.
You'll never sire anything.
We were young and we were stupid
yet I learned a great deal:
You taught me much of love
and what it isn't
and you taught me much of hate
and how it grows.
Your relatives tore us apart
and you tore our family apart
as you stripped all my patience
and laid bare all my rage
with your insolent tongue
and your striking hand
And when I showed you
an insolent tongue
and a striking hand
your relatives cried foul
and stripped me of my place.
Blood of my blood, pure blood,
will never know the Wild Hunt
will never know the Twilight Song
will never know the banshee's cry
will never know the faerie ring
will never know the mists of Tara.
You stole these from her
as surely as you stole her from me
and your tribe of justice,
your tribe of Kindly Ones,
doubtless thinks it a fine price
and worthy retribution.
How does our daughter grow?
Does she grow to hate mankind?
Does she know she has a father?
Or do you tell her she sprang fully formed?
Does she grow to love the Mother
at the cost of despising all else?
You Erinyes, you spiteful spirits,
rending lives asunder
in the name of vengeance,
in the name of justice,
Go to your ancestral home,
you black-furred bitches.
Go to hell.
-- Souls Uncaged
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|Where is the Wyrmfoe?
Where is the Wyrmfoe?
Is he hiding underground?
Is he locked up in some cell?
Is he lost and must be found?
Where is the Wyrmfoe?
Is she distracted learning rites?
Is she ill-equipped for battle?
Too weak or sick to fight?
Where is the Wyrmfoe?
Is he sexing up some wizards?
Is he off befriending leeches,
Or screwing bears, or birds, or lizards?
Where is the Wyrmfoe?
Will we ever see one soon?
Could it maybe perhaps be possible
That it should be an Ahroun?
-- Souls Uncaged
Luna's eye, half-lidded, shone,
glaring through the cold-touched night
down at the coward who ran alone
where two had first gone out to fight.
While Coyote's get recovered,
the scout howled of his shame
and then gathered several others
to avenge she who'd been maimed:
The alpha of the Dragon's Ire
stepped forward at the call;
So too in Sun's Tear was there fire
and Loose Leaf grew a pair of balls;
Dressed to the nines, armed to the teeth,
Glass Walkers proved their worth:
Digital Shadow and the Sister of Steel
brought rite and blade to do their work.
Onward to meet the foe they ran;
Feet and minds took many turns.
They planned and planned and planned and planned
Of how to take the Wyrmish worms.
The Wolves had much to say, and did,
but finally they did decide
they'd do as their Litany bid:
Cleanse, then rocks fall: everyone dies.
Mystic Garou gathered, a full quartet strong,
Fury, Walker, and Adren walked the rite
with burning wands and howled song
to torment the foe and purge the blight.
Soul Uncaged tore up the ground
and armed allies; boulders rained down,
an avalanche of crash and groan,
crushing the foe beneath the stones.
The Ritemaster took to the air
and sought the foe in tight embrace.
he tore them huddling from their lair
and dropped them. Toward the ground they raced.
Galliards of the Furies and the Walkers
joined battle from stone's throw away,
allowing the bladed Steely stalker
to bring skill to bear within the fray.
For each strike landing, worms replied
in kind: grab or stab, blow or throw.
Thus cunning figured in the fight
to gain vantage o'er the wormish foe.
With clever wit and careful strength,
sure arms and aim, the battle's done:
it took some dancing, but at length
the Wyrmish children failed; we won.
Take heart e'en in small victories
my cousins; each fight deserves pride.
The daily struggle of mind and body
is where all of renown abides.
So hail the victors, hoist your cups,
and slap the backs of friends returned;
let your voices be raised up
to mock the vanquished Wyrmish worms.
|The Tale of Ysra Fenrisdottir|
Listen! Those norse who traveled to the lands of ice
This is that woeful tale, and we here are bound
By words and vows to make their bravery known.
Hear the tale, and know the sacrifice of Fenrisdottir
The one who stood before Ragnarok
And sent it back to Malfeas, that hateful Abyss.
Ysra Fenrisdottir, that hero from the north
Who conquered all the wastes of Odin’s purview
Was born a lonesome wolf left in the cold winter.
All who looked upon her knew her rage
And all but one would hear her. Loki, her
Grandsire, called her to the forest and took shape as the wolf.
Together, grandsire and Fenrisdottir trod the frozen wastes
Before she grew tall and strong, and made spear and arm one.
Walking north, she took to the harsh lands and subdued the hard people there.
Hyggthar Fmreirson, Jarl of that harsh land, took Fenrisdottir
as his counselor of War.
Together, they found many spear-Norse, and the people
Of the north rallied all banners against the evil in that hold.
In those northern lands of Odin were foul people who spoke to the Banes.
With them were the Howlers of the north, corrupted by the Spiral.
Their dwellings were black and cold as ice, and few trod there.
Hyggthar, eager to rid the north of such taint, encouraged his people north.
With them came the coterie of Fenrisdottir, now known as Ysra.
Together, that bitter couple conquered the northern lands of Odin.
Besieged and ruined, those who danced the Spiral saw
Opportunity to bring forth their great patron: Ragnarok
Consumed by revenge, they called forth what they did not understand.
Ofridr rose from that ashen, black pit
And he slew all who stood before him with a glance.
The north bled darkness, and all feared Ragnarok had begun.
Lo! In the wastes came forth Ysra
At her side the crow, wolves, worm, and bears of legend
And they came upon Ofridr and challenged him to battle.
That mighty servant slew all save the brood of Fenris,
And though they sacrificed, his mighty Lord rose from the spiral still.
Ysra, consumed in rage, broke his defenses as the Lord rose.
As Ragnarok came, so too did that mighty wolf Fenris,
Son of Loki, Lord of the Get. And he stood before his brood
And spoke to Ragnarok as though they were equal.
That mighty wolf bade the end-times leave, and it did
And with it claimed Ysra, never to be seen
But always to be remembered by the sons and daughters of Fenris.
And so we sing the song of Ysra
Desperate and untamed, that daughter
of Fenris. May she be remembered.
And may all those here hear our words,
and take from them the power of the Desperate,
And know that the power of the Get resides within it.
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