Post by Chenoa on Dec 6, 2009 14:39:14 GMT -8
((This is the history behind the pack Shadow Strike as told through the blind eyes of their Theurge Uktena. I do hope you enjoy. ~*Chenoa))
The tale I am about to share with you, is one that continues to grow. A story in itself after all never truly ends. Not really…
I suppose our story starts with the beginning, since that usually is the best place to progress a tale like ours. The first two of our pack, came from the same place. I believe they said they grew up together, and knew one another well. The one who eventually became our alpha was known as Blood Song, a lupus born Aroun of the Red Talon tribe. His counterpart was dubbed Strange Blood, a lupus born Philadox of the same tribe. Although they grew up together, they were not siblings. Blood Song actually had been flown in from a Canadian reserve to the sept in Yellowstone National Park as a young wolf. It was part of the humans attempt at keeping the wolves in a stable population and discouraging inbreeding between related wolves. Strange Blood, though older then Blood Song, took to him naturally as a kind of older sister. She looked out for him in the reserve to be sure he stayed out of trouble amongst the other wildlife as well as the other sept members. As a Cliath in rank, Blood Song naturally looked up to the fostern of Strange Blood, even though he tended to have an arrogance to him none of us could truly explain.
The years strolled by, and a third member of our gang came into play, though he probably didn‘t know it quite at the time. His name was Shreds the Stone, a metis on a journey himself. The Ragabash Get was normally a native of Europe, though were I could not tell you in too much entirety. In his youth he managed to gain the respect of an elder regardless of being born a disfigured Garou, and received a gift of an Iron Hammer as a reward for saving the elder’s life. Though even he did not grow up alone. Along his travels, he managed to meet a Shadow Lord Galliard by the name of Death Dancer, another player in our pack’s continuing game. Shreds the Stone and Death Dancer traveled together for only a short period of time, just enough to gain each other’s scent and keep one another company. After Shreds the Stone passed through his rite of passage as a Get of Fenris, the pair split off in search of their own destinies, little knowing that the two would meet again in due time. Shreds the Stone had received a mission to travel across the seas to the Americas and join up with a sept in Yellowstone. For weary days and turbulent nights, he stowed away on a freighter bound for the United States. The cargo ship docked in San Francisco California and from there he hitch hiked and walked to the Yellowstone park where Blood Song and Strange Blood were waiting for him.
As for me, I grew up in the plains of Minnesota, on a tribal reservation under Uktena. My life was normal until my accident when my world faded into darkness. I had been renowned as a beauty in our tribe and as far as my mother and the few friends I had had left I still was. Before the incident, I was expected to become a medicine woman in our tribe. I was quite skilled at it, and showed promise as a fine Theurge as well. Most of the sept began to ignore or taint my name when my vision was stolen from me, and the only one who pressed me to continue with my studies was my mother, and the children who I would often look after. She always believed in me, regardless of my ‘handicap’ and told me never to give up hope. As the dove that gives me my name; be the peace after the storm, Chenoa. When I was finally old enough and my mother finally willing to release me from her care, I began my slow journey westward. I had heard some traveling news on the wind about more tolerant kind further west, and I longed to find a pack that would accept me as I am, a blinded lupus, not some wea thing to be pitied. I met many on my travels, but stopped longer in Yellowstone where I came to meet my future pack of Blood Song, Strange Blood and the newly arrived Shreds the Stone. They accepted me when no one else would, for they saw a use in my spiritual abilities and my medicinal capabilities. Blood Song saw the need for a proper medic in the field as a necessity, and as such we never stayed long in the Yellowstone sept. Soon after my arrival, the four of us were off, in search of a place to call our own. By the time I had arrived in Yellowstone, the sept itself had grown massively, and threatened to be over crowded. Strange Blood, the kind Philadox indeed often held my arm when we walked, as if assuring that I would not bump into anything in my blindness.
The days grew colder, and the rain became more frequent as we crossed over the cascade mountains into western Washington (or so I had been told by Strange Blood). The strange sounds of the city were almost overwhelming to me, for I had never traveled so far from home and into such a noisy place. It was luck then I suppose that we met up again with Shreds the Stone’s acquaintance Death Dancer. As destiny would have put it, she had followed the Russian ballet across the ocean to America, and found herself in Seattle near the same time as us. She was instantly accepted, and at the same time shunned for being both experienced within city limits and also a Shadow Lord.
Perhaps then is where our luck began to run out. Soon after entering the city we came into conflict with a very strange individual. Although I never saw the incident with my eyes, I heard and smelled everything. The scent of the foul liquid gushing into the disgusting drain. The sound of the man’s breath as he held the barrel as steadily as possible. The resounding cracks as Death Dancer attempted to knock him unconscious. I heard sounds of roars and blood soaking the concrete as the man was torn to shreds by Blood Song, Strange Blood leading me safely away. A cry, soft at first and then more frightened I heard, and immediately I made towards the frightened baby, away from the carnage. It was at that moment that hell seemed to break loose among the streets. My anger coursed higher and higher, unlike it had ever done before, and I could hear the distasteful moans and sloshes, the carnage continuing as my fellow pack mates thrawlled on one another. And then new scents flooded my nostrils, scents I would later meet more fully. The carnage ended as quickly as it started, and I soon heard the scrambling of feet and the scurrying of hands as the new scents began to clean up the mess of our alpha Blood Song and the unnamed wyrm tainted individual. My ears remained trained on the baby and it’s whereabouts. I was concerned for my pack but I was also concerned for the innocent life that had been disturbed by our presence. Before I knew it, the remaining of my pack were whisked away with the three strangers; fellow Garou by the names of Peter, Wolfgang and Basil Oathsen. I don’t know too much about them, except that the thrawlling incident had been the fault of Wolfgang and a special gift he held; a homid gift by the name of Divide. Something he had mentioned to us later on with as if trying to mend the damage he had caused. I doubt my pack will forgive him readily; I know it will take much time before I will be able to trust him at all.
So this is where we find ourselves on the verge of a new sept, on the seat of a new life. We are still mourning the loss of Blood Song, for he will be forever missed (regardless if his attitude will not be), but we are Garou, and I know we will survive…
The tale I am about to share with you, is one that continues to grow. A story in itself after all never truly ends. Not really…
I suppose our story starts with the beginning, since that usually is the best place to progress a tale like ours. The first two of our pack, came from the same place. I believe they said they grew up together, and knew one another well. The one who eventually became our alpha was known as Blood Song, a lupus born Aroun of the Red Talon tribe. His counterpart was dubbed Strange Blood, a lupus born Philadox of the same tribe. Although they grew up together, they were not siblings. Blood Song actually had been flown in from a Canadian reserve to the sept in Yellowstone National Park as a young wolf. It was part of the humans attempt at keeping the wolves in a stable population and discouraging inbreeding between related wolves. Strange Blood, though older then Blood Song, took to him naturally as a kind of older sister. She looked out for him in the reserve to be sure he stayed out of trouble amongst the other wildlife as well as the other sept members. As a Cliath in rank, Blood Song naturally looked up to the fostern of Strange Blood, even though he tended to have an arrogance to him none of us could truly explain.
The years strolled by, and a third member of our gang came into play, though he probably didn‘t know it quite at the time. His name was Shreds the Stone, a metis on a journey himself. The Ragabash Get was normally a native of Europe, though were I could not tell you in too much entirety. In his youth he managed to gain the respect of an elder regardless of being born a disfigured Garou, and received a gift of an Iron Hammer as a reward for saving the elder’s life. Though even he did not grow up alone. Along his travels, he managed to meet a Shadow Lord Galliard by the name of Death Dancer, another player in our pack’s continuing game. Shreds the Stone and Death Dancer traveled together for only a short period of time, just enough to gain each other’s scent and keep one another company. After Shreds the Stone passed through his rite of passage as a Get of Fenris, the pair split off in search of their own destinies, little knowing that the two would meet again in due time. Shreds the Stone had received a mission to travel across the seas to the Americas and join up with a sept in Yellowstone. For weary days and turbulent nights, he stowed away on a freighter bound for the United States. The cargo ship docked in San Francisco California and from there he hitch hiked and walked to the Yellowstone park where Blood Song and Strange Blood were waiting for him.
As for me, I grew up in the plains of Minnesota, on a tribal reservation under Uktena. My life was normal until my accident when my world faded into darkness. I had been renowned as a beauty in our tribe and as far as my mother and the few friends I had had left I still was. Before the incident, I was expected to become a medicine woman in our tribe. I was quite skilled at it, and showed promise as a fine Theurge as well. Most of the sept began to ignore or taint my name when my vision was stolen from me, and the only one who pressed me to continue with my studies was my mother, and the children who I would often look after. She always believed in me, regardless of my ‘handicap’ and told me never to give up hope. As the dove that gives me my name; be the peace after the storm, Chenoa. When I was finally old enough and my mother finally willing to release me from her care, I began my slow journey westward. I had heard some traveling news on the wind about more tolerant kind further west, and I longed to find a pack that would accept me as I am, a blinded lupus, not some wea thing to be pitied. I met many on my travels, but stopped longer in Yellowstone where I came to meet my future pack of Blood Song, Strange Blood and the newly arrived Shreds the Stone. They accepted me when no one else would, for they saw a use in my spiritual abilities and my medicinal capabilities. Blood Song saw the need for a proper medic in the field as a necessity, and as such we never stayed long in the Yellowstone sept. Soon after my arrival, the four of us were off, in search of a place to call our own. By the time I had arrived in Yellowstone, the sept itself had grown massively, and threatened to be over crowded. Strange Blood, the kind Philadox indeed often held my arm when we walked, as if assuring that I would not bump into anything in my blindness.
The days grew colder, and the rain became more frequent as we crossed over the cascade mountains into western Washington (or so I had been told by Strange Blood). The strange sounds of the city were almost overwhelming to me, for I had never traveled so far from home and into such a noisy place. It was luck then I suppose that we met up again with Shreds the Stone’s acquaintance Death Dancer. As destiny would have put it, she had followed the Russian ballet across the ocean to America, and found herself in Seattle near the same time as us. She was instantly accepted, and at the same time shunned for being both experienced within city limits and also a Shadow Lord.
Perhaps then is where our luck began to run out. Soon after entering the city we came into conflict with a very strange individual. Although I never saw the incident with my eyes, I heard and smelled everything. The scent of the foul liquid gushing into the disgusting drain. The sound of the man’s breath as he held the barrel as steadily as possible. The resounding cracks as Death Dancer attempted to knock him unconscious. I heard sounds of roars and blood soaking the concrete as the man was torn to shreds by Blood Song, Strange Blood leading me safely away. A cry, soft at first and then more frightened I heard, and immediately I made towards the frightened baby, away from the carnage. It was at that moment that hell seemed to break loose among the streets. My anger coursed higher and higher, unlike it had ever done before, and I could hear the distasteful moans and sloshes, the carnage continuing as my fellow pack mates thrawlled on one another. And then new scents flooded my nostrils, scents I would later meet more fully. The carnage ended as quickly as it started, and I soon heard the scrambling of feet and the scurrying of hands as the new scents began to clean up the mess of our alpha Blood Song and the unnamed wyrm tainted individual. My ears remained trained on the baby and it’s whereabouts. I was concerned for my pack but I was also concerned for the innocent life that had been disturbed by our presence. Before I knew it, the remaining of my pack were whisked away with the three strangers; fellow Garou by the names of Peter, Wolfgang and Basil Oathsen. I don’t know too much about them, except that the thrawlling incident had been the fault of Wolfgang and a special gift he held; a homid gift by the name of Divide. Something he had mentioned to us later on with as if trying to mend the damage he had caused. I doubt my pack will forgive him readily; I know it will take much time before I will be able to trust him at all.
So this is where we find ourselves on the verge of a new sept, on the seat of a new life. We are still mourning the loss of Blood Song, for he will be forever missed (regardless if his attitude will not be), but we are Garou, and I know we will survive…
