| log
| - An arrangement had been made between the leaders of one sept and the other. Thane arranged for a Fury who knew the Great Hunt rite to come to the caern to perform it and teach it to someone, in exchange for a future favor in return. The timing would be tight, and--worryingly--the emissary was late. Very late. Nearly too late. Her howl goes up, introducing herself, and adding that she's headed for the caern at full speed with a cliath in tow. The clock ticks. Time is nearly up.
Trace has been here-- and waiting-- with his packmates. The howl, however, gets a sigh of relief and a glance over towards them, and then the Glass Walker spins his revolver on his finger like he has already done so many times recently, and slides it back into the holster.
Spinning about an aluminum baseball bat with razor wire wrapped about it is Justin. He is kicked back a tree and letting out a loud and bored yawn. At the sound of the howl, he straightens up and clears his throat. "Looks like we gotta be on our best behavior. I'm not looking to get kicked in my nuts."
Felix does not appear to have brought any weapons, or if he has, they're hidden somewhere. However, it's fair to guess he may also have gotten a bit bored, since he's wandering and currently singing , "...an' it's moose, moose! I like a moose! I've never had anythin' quite like a moose!" He cuts off at the sound of the howl, with a head movement like ears perking, and grins. "Kick ass, 'bout fuckin' time."
Thane Consumes-Shadows stands in his Crinos form atop the dais. The dark-furred, one-eyed Shadow Lord looks three shades from bona fide pissed off. The howl only serves to elicit a low, displeased growl from him which is enough to set Song-of-Ashes, who's loitering with his pack, to shink down a little closer to the ground and paw restlessly at the ground. The Sept Alpha lifts his head to return the howl, declaring himself and his permission in curt quickness.
In time, a panting black wolf with grey fringe and white accents appears at the edge of the caern, at a run. ~Don't shoot,~ she urges as she slows, shifts to homid, and a small bookbag on her back emerges with the transition. "Mona," she says curtly with a glance towards the wolf following her. "Binds-the-Demons," she says, probably referencing her own name as she dumps the pack on the ground, unzips, and pulls out an earthen bowl with a smooth and unadorned interior and an exterior riddled with garou glyphs. "Car crashed," she explains her delay as she grabs at the dirt from the caern and, using her fingers, grinds the soil into the bowl. "Quickly! Add your blood to the bowl!"
Linnaea is late too. The Gaian scrambles her way down towards the others from the trees, a bow and quiver of arrows in one hand, and looking a little more grounded than she usually does. Her hair is also sporting a new colour, dyed in rainbow. She looks over towards the others, and takes her place in time to do as instructed.
There is a nod that follows from Trace, and he pulls a knife from one pocket and slashes across the back of his hand, holding it in the space above the bowl, before offering the knife in turn towards his packmates.
Though the older woman's companion takes some time to regain herself, all she needs to hear is 'quickly' to return to her native form, even if the effort does seem to knock the wind out of her a second time. But, breathless, and mindful of all the new faces, smells, and sights surrounding her - especially that of the towering crinos that had called back to them - she takes a quick look around, and pulls a swiss army knife from the pocket of her jeans. "Not the best time for introductions, is it?" she says, offering an apologetic smile to those assembled, her gaze venturing off again to rest on Linnaea-- or, more specifically, the bow she carries. "I, ah-- I have something for you," she says. "Or, for her, rather," she adds, nodding to the theurge.
Felix pulls out his own pocket knife about the same time as Trace, and makes a slash across his hand without hesitation, letting his blood fall into the bowl as well. He glances to his packmates, and then to Lin, to see if any of them need the knife; it's Song-of-Ashes who gets the most focus first, given the lupus's current lack of opposable thumbs.
Consumes-Shadows looks over the arrivals with his severe expression lightening some given the 'valid' excuse, though it's clear the full moon and event has the Ahroun on edge. ~I will be staying behind, as Alpha and Warder, to see to the caern's defense. Others of the sept are grouped to watch over the bawn. If healing is required, our Rite Mistress is at the sept compound. Either seek her or howl. ~
When their turn comes up, both Justin and Song-of-Ashes moves for the bowl. The Bone Gnawer makes quick work of using the knife to open his skin and add his blood before taking up the offered paw of the lupus Uktena for the same.
Linnaea accepts the knife from Felix and hands it back right after, with a grateful, quiet nod. Mona, however, gets a bit of a 'huh', though all that Lin eventually says is, "Later?"
The elder Fury leans back, panting, heavily winded to the point where flecks of her own blood grace her lips. She's pushed herself beyond what her body ought to be capable of doing without injury. As the sept's garou finish adding their blood to the mix... "You too, Mona," she indicates towards the bowl. "And give the one with the bow your chiminage after you bleed." She begins stirring the thick, red mixture with a finger and, after everyone has added their blood, pulls her finger from the bowl and draw a swipe of blood from her temple down her nose, and a second swipe is made hozontally from beneath her left eye and to her ear. "Use a finger. Paint yourself with your septmates' blood and the earth of the caern you defend. Then you will feel the pull of the hunt."
"Actually--" Mona hesitates, easily cut off from any further insistance by the old Fury she accompanies. "Right," she says under her breath, and - with a hint of reticence - flicks open the knife to slice into the meat of her palm, her blood allowed to add to that of the others.
Song-of-Ashes twitches his nose at mention of a finger and takes to the Crinos form so he can dip a taloned digit into the mixture. A line is drawn from the tip of his nose to between his brows and from the bottom of each ear to the outer edge of his eye to connect the three senses. The coywolf looks towards his packmates, tongue lolling out in an enthusiastic pant. ~We'll hunt good tonight!~
Trace steps forward to take one finger, and he touches his finger to his chest beneath his shirt, not so much with any distinct part to it as much as simply doing. There's a nod to Song-of-Ashes, and a smile with far too much teeth to be otherwise polite. "We will!"
Linnaea looks, if anything, even more confused, and then quickly shakes her head a few times. "Not me. I'm not..." Then a moment more, she continues. "Later," she repeats herself as she dips her finger into the bowl, a distinct British accent coming out in the word. The theurge quickly and quietly traces the blood in a line, from forehead down to collarbone.
After adding his own blood and then smearing it on his face in the form of war paint, the Gnawer Ahroun shifts into the crinos form and folds his arms over his chest. The metal baseball bat is still clutched in one large fuzzy paw, teetering gently up and down in his fingers.
Felix wipes his blade on the thigh of his jeans after Linnaea hands it back, then flicks the knife closed in a practiced movement and slips it back into the pocket from whence it came. The interaction between Mona, Lin, and Binds-the-Demons gets some interest, but no comment. He takes his turn with the bowl, dipping a finger and drawing a line down the center of his face, and two shorter angled ones at each cheekbone. The grin he gives his packmates is rather a lot like Trace's. "Damn straight," he agrees.
The elder Fury begins chanting rapidly and intently,clearly fixated fully on the ritual component now. Those with bloody warpaint can feel it beginning to burn and tingle, though there's no direction quite yet. Maybe.... Maybe a slight pull north? Or east? Hard to say.
There's a certain amount of uneasiness that goes into Mona's actions, the sense that she's very much out of her element clear enough to be frustrating. Still, she follows suit with what she's told, extending her fingers to the bowl to gather up what she can once Song-of-Ashes has done the same, the blood added haphazardly to trace either of her cheekbones, a third line added down the middle of her throat as an afterthought. "I think-- I'm supposed to do this before I do anything else," she says to the shorter woman softly, keeping her voice low so as to be mindful of the chanting, though she makes it a point to keep track of any unhappy looks this might earn her. "They're--" she reaches for the bundle tied to her belt, and begins to unwrap it, the black tips of two arrows quickly visible. "Well," she says, quietly handing the both of them over to Linnaea, "they seem relevant."
Linnaea moves over to Mona, and furrows her brow. "I'm not your elder!" she whispers, furiously. "I'm not even... I'm not even your tribemate?" She sighs, looking at the bane arrows, and then nods, taking them with what ends up being a gracious nod, and then tucks them into her quiver, which she's already sliding onto her belt. "You'll talk to Charlene-rhya or the alpha, later when we get back."
Consumes-Shadows watches the two Furies closely though doesn't seem to oppose what either does. ~May Gaia and Luna look favorably on us tonight. Good hunting, you're carrying the future of this sept with you. You all - most of you - know the severity of what's waiting for us. Bring us back some hope.~ No pressure.
Song-Of-Ashes follows the faint twinge on his face, nose and ears turning this way and that as the coywolf tries to pinpoint the direction of the pull.
"I was planning on it," Mona replies gently, her head inclined towards Binds-the-Demon as if to say 'this wasn't my idea,' one of her hands raising to absently scratch at one of the marks on her face before she realizes what she's doing, and pulls her hand back.
Mouse-Trap rumbles deeply to his packmates as he gives them a firm nod, then lobs the baseball bat to the side on the ground. Eyeing the pair of Furies for a moment to memorize them, he lumbers off with a grunt. ~Let's go and kick some ass.~ He says, then lurches forward as he picks up speed, looking to take the lead.
Binds-the-Demons continues her strained, forced chantings in some alien tongue. Hell, it might even be utter gibberish. But then the indecisive, waivering pull that doesn't seem to indicate any certain direction... indicates northeast, headfirst into the wind. And everyone with blood on their face knows--/knows/--the threat is in that direction and in the realm instead of the umbra.
Trace takes off running and keeping pace with his pack alpha, shifting up into crinos as he does so. Six-Shooter simply gives a low growl, no further sound at the moment.
Linnaea isn't so quick, and remains in her birth form as she heads after the Coyote pack. The Gaian has an arrow-- a normal one-- in her hand, and the bow in her other hand. Nor does she run steadily, but rather with a wince that suggests she will pay for it later.
Song-of-Ashes bristles with a mix of a hunter's lust and a puppy-like glee as the Hunt's trail comes into focus. The Galliard throws back his head and howls. It's a bit high pitches and yappy but it's all but boiling over with the joy of the hunt. ~We hunt! We hunt! Let's go!~ And he drops down into the Hispo form and rushes forward. Only the pace of Mouse-Trap contains him from bolting ahead.
Chugs-the-Mystery-Brew as well shifts up, running with his pack and a sense of joy, pressure or not. He joins the other Galliard's howl with much the same sentiments, if more standard tones.
Though it takes a moment to follow suit, Mona keeps pace alongside Linnaea for a time, letting her body make its transitions less abruptly than she had before until, finally, feeling a curious sense of momentum that's far more foreign to her than it ought to be - be it the forgotten sound of a heartfelt rally, or the certainty the rite's imbued in the lot of them - she enters into her crinos form, and begins to run.
The werewolves rush through the forest, onwards, noses into the wind. It doesn't take more than half a mile before the smell of burning is scented. Something up ahead is on fire. And the winds will carry it towards the caern if it grows.
Rising-Dawn finally shifts into crinos along the way, bow and arrow still in hand as she does so. She runs no more easily in this form, though she more or less keeps up with Mona, at least.
Nose twitching, Mouse Trap who is in the lead slows down a step and gives a motion to the others. Slow down, he commands non-verbally. ~Song of Ashes, move forward ahead and use your super senses. See if you can sniff something up ahead besides the fire.~ He rumbles as he shifts down into the hispo form. ~Go lower to the ground if you can. We need the advantage.~
Song-of-Ashes gestures acknowledgement to his pack's alpha as he drops down to his belly and begins to creep forward. As he goes, he calls on his gift of Heightened Senses to try and pick up anything beyond smoke and flame.
It's a fast response from the lupus who sneezes with the potency of the odor. ~Fire, something sharp...~ There's a time Song-of-Ashes is struggling for a word and ultimately snaps with a growl. ~Stuff cars eat. Fire's not big but will be soon. We need to hurry.~
~Gasoline. Someone is setting the forest on fire.~ Swinging his head over to the others, Mouse Trap sizes up his packmates for the night. ~Lin, can you work with the spirits to try and contain the fire? Talk them down? If you can't, we may need to do this the harder way.~ He says with a wily grin. ~Fury.~ He glances to the Ragabash. ~Scout ahead and report back what you find. Six-Shooter, take Chugs and flank left, Ashes and I will go right.~ He says with a firm nod. ~Close in, be careful.~
There's a moment that Hides-in-Whisper finds herself inclined to do similar, but the mere mention of oil and gas make her think better of it. The acrid air is already near-overpowering, no matter how acclimated she's managed to get to it over the years. Perking her ears at Mouse calling to her attention, she glances at him briefly, and ignores a maddening urge to hesitate in order to slip quietly from the pack as a whole, careful to use a concealed route.
<OOC> To the caern, Mona derp, should clarify: 'do similar' re: 'activate heightened senses.' When I jotted that down it was immediately after Song's pose.
Rising-Dawn growls and rushes forward, and she takes a bit of a nod. ~I can try, but they only might listen. Find who set it. Find water.~ She takes a breath and moves forward, and takes another breath, and the howl that follows is less words, and more intention. *Spirits, friends, who give life to the forest that we all call home. Any who can hear me, your forest is burning and we need your help!* This is beyond anything that the theurge has ever done in the past, but there is so much of her willpower going into it.
A moment of pause, and then the Gaian sighs, and reaches across the gauntlet, disappearing from the realm. Once on the other side, the call is repeated, word for word.
Six-Shooter twists an ear in acknowledgement of Mouse-Trap's words, and ahroun and galliard break off to the left as they move forwards.
Chugs-the-Mystery-Brew does as instructed, slowing to remain apace with the group, then heading leftward with Six-Shooter. There's no hesitation, although his pack Alpha gets a fleeting sidelong glance as the Galliard goes. Most of his focus is on their surroundings, however, for any further indications of things that oughtn't be.
Song-of-Ashes stays alongside Mouse-Trap dutifully, apparently leaving his gift active as his head's on a rapid swivel to take in everything he can as they go.
Though it takes time, Hide quietly reappears through the foliage using a hurried, but cautious gait. ~Two fires~, she says, inclining her head in the direction of the flames. ~One normal, one-- not.~ She looks over her shoulder. ~Doesn't move like it should. Doesn't react to wind.~
- -189.0
- <OOC> To the caern, M'aiq says "Also, yay! Great Hunt success! "
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