Post by Aidan on Feb 12, 2012 13:05:18 GMT -8
The night was sickly-sweet, forest cloying with the stench of new-comers.
Bringing with them the prediction of war. Gun oil, war paint and the sting of alcohol.
The rattle of gourds; life’s breath within. The rasp of klaive, fang and claw on stone.
Preparations were swift, practiced and grim. Letters left on beds; to be delivered ‘if’.
Packs took field, arrows buried head down, ready to be grabbed and let fly, bullets in bandoleers.
Crinos, Hispo, Pithus, Wings and sweat. The cold grasp of war clammy as we all set to our tasks.
Luna watch over us all, Incarnas be merciful in your judgment. Litany of prayers and muttered rites.
The dawn would come, but would anyone greet Helios? Or would He preside over a graveyard?
The ritual was struck, the bargain began, and the great shout was given.
An undeniable challenge, to any wrapped in The Coils, one that cannot be refused.
“Here we stand. Here Gaia is strong. Here, we will fight and die to bring restoration!
Here we go to war!” Silverfang words stir the blood, loosening dreads strangle-hold.
The tide rose, bane and fomori, crashing through the umbra and the forest alike.
Score upon score broke against the defiant; claw, fang and klaive purging them!
But still they came, numbering more than the stars. For hours battle raged, seeming without end.
Chaff and meat-shield, to sap our resolve. To dull our knives, pull at our fur and strip our resolve.
The very Umbra shook. The ground buckling beneath our feet. The forest rent apart like a paper wall.
The humor of fouled meat and ashes, fires of war and decay after. Atom-Child, Earth-Ravager;
Thunderwyrm.
With quake and rage, with despair and pusculent hide, it slammed into the wall of Gaian defenders.
Breaks–the Mountain, Finds-the-Prey and Falcon’s Daughter fell upon it’s corpulent flanks!
Claws snarling deep in its husk; peeling back the layers of armor and sinew, soft underbelly exposed.
Claw and Hammer fell upon the exposed viscera, cold and alien blood issued forth in telling gush.
Pain-wracked, rage lashed out from unrelenting foe, washing over like a wave of fire, searing flesh.
Makes-No-Sense and Sky-Breaker fell upon the beast, knives biting deep, lacerating final threads of life.
A last pulsating wave issues forth, and then the Destroyer is quiet, Earth-Shaker laid to rest.
The thunderwyrm was felled.
Respite in a night of horrors. An all too brief surcease of the squall, but no end to the storm.
They come in waves. Two count had broken upon our levies, and Watches-Like-Raven wove strong.
The unrelenting tide, the tsunami, and now the third.
The third would be most cunning, they could not resist, but were content to let others sap our strength.
The third coming, on padded paw, content to let the Thunderwyrm shatter our resolution.
Horrors untold visited the other fronts that night. Tales I long to hear. But this is my telling…
To any Garou, there should be no worse sight, than the fallen.
Not our dead, which littered the field too few and far between to make me lose hope.
But those who have fallen to the Wyrm.
One cannot help but gaze upon their grotesque forms, hear their maddened cries, mocking howl.
And think; There but for the grace of Gaia, go I...
The wall separating Garou from Bane and Fomori is thick, no qualms casting stone upon their heads.
Like ghastly reflections, these once proud Warriors of Gaia, strike deep and resonant chords in us all.
Time has dulled the sting of the White Lions loss, Howlers who fell to madness eons ago.
Their deeds have shown them irredeemable, beyond all hope of salvation. Death is a mercy.
But it was not just the long forgotten cousin I saw in the woods that night. No ancient enemy.
But the fresh madness, the new horror, Black Rage fueling their answer to The Call.
Red Talon, Griffon’s Brood. Last vestiges of the true Wyld. The lupus of all other tribes seems less noble.
The undisputed foe of the Wyrm, few can more keenly sense the loss and pain that Gaia feels.
Dwindling in the twilight, on the eve of Apocalypse, nothing made me feel the imminent danger;
Than seeing fresh, raw wounds in the Garou Nation, as this feral pack fell in line with our age old enemy.
We tried to subdue them. We tried and to all but one, we failed. They fell in our midst, and struck.
So unprepared were we, that their gifts and their rites decimated us, age old fetishes broken.
Ahroun gifts for merciful death to the wyrm-ridden, silver claws, turned aside by timely intervention,
Philodox judgments turned on the righteous, Ragabash lesson and Galliard song turned to ruination.
Gaians pressed on, turning numbers and rage against their foes. One by one they fell, unable to weather.
Wendigo like ghosts, striking down foes in the forests. Like smoke in wind, the Dancer pack dissipated.
Claw, fang and fetish brought rest to the crazed Talons. One by one, they fell, only the leader tucking tail.
For the one restrained, the hungering hoard consumed, leaving her bones and husk among writhing fetters.
My wounds clotted, my legs found, I looked about. All my pack were safe, and East was whole.
Guy “Watches-like-Raven” let out one last triumphant howl, and collapsed, spent by his task.
The blood of Get was fresh on the ground, their loss stirring my heart, the Talons turning my stomach.
Howls from the rest of the fronts announced the same. The Sept was whole, allies boons paid with blood.*
If not for the grace of Makes-No-Sense, I would not - could not relate this tale. In return, I sing praise.
If not for the support of my Pack, Eye of the Storm, I would not have been there to witness this battle.
Sky-Breaker, Falcon’s-Daughter, Erik, Breaks–the-Mountain, Seeks the Prey; even Fig. I salute you.
To all those who stood beside us in battle, waging their own lives towards our combined success;
We all revel in the birth of a new Caern, Saber Tooth watches over us with guidance, his primal grace.
One of the most powerful known to exist, our reach by Luna’s path shall be far, and our renown great.
And so, too, shall our responsibility to Gaia. This unearthed treasure will not go un-coveted.
Vigilance, puissance, resolution and respect. Wisdom, guile, resourcefulness and tact. All this and more.
This battle is over.
The war goes on.
When will you Rage?
~Tiberius 'Tibs' O'Malley
Galliard of the Bone Gnawer Tribe
Eye of the Storm Pack
Bringing with them the prediction of war. Gun oil, war paint and the sting of alcohol.
The rattle of gourds; life’s breath within. The rasp of klaive, fang and claw on stone.
Preparations were swift, practiced and grim. Letters left on beds; to be delivered ‘if’.
Packs took field, arrows buried head down, ready to be grabbed and let fly, bullets in bandoleers.
Crinos, Hispo, Pithus, Wings and sweat. The cold grasp of war clammy as we all set to our tasks.
Luna watch over us all, Incarnas be merciful in your judgment. Litany of prayers and muttered rites.
The dawn would come, but would anyone greet Helios? Or would He preside over a graveyard?
The ritual was struck, the bargain began, and the great shout was given.
An undeniable challenge, to any wrapped in The Coils, one that cannot be refused.
“Here we stand. Here Gaia is strong. Here, we will fight and die to bring restoration!
Here we go to war!” Silverfang words stir the blood, loosening dreads strangle-hold.
The tide rose, bane and fomori, crashing through the umbra and the forest alike.
Score upon score broke against the defiant; claw, fang and klaive purging them!
But still they came, numbering more than the stars. For hours battle raged, seeming without end.
Chaff and meat-shield, to sap our resolve. To dull our knives, pull at our fur and strip our resolve.
The very Umbra shook. The ground buckling beneath our feet. The forest rent apart like a paper wall.
The humor of fouled meat and ashes, fires of war and decay after. Atom-Child, Earth-Ravager;
Thunderwyrm.
With quake and rage, with despair and pusculent hide, it slammed into the wall of Gaian defenders.
Breaks–the Mountain, Finds-the-Prey and Falcon’s Daughter fell upon it’s corpulent flanks!
Claws snarling deep in its husk; peeling back the layers of armor and sinew, soft underbelly exposed.
Claw and Hammer fell upon the exposed viscera, cold and alien blood issued forth in telling gush.
Pain-wracked, rage lashed out from unrelenting foe, washing over like a wave of fire, searing flesh.
Makes-No-Sense and Sky-Breaker fell upon the beast, knives biting deep, lacerating final threads of life.
A last pulsating wave issues forth, and then the Destroyer is quiet, Earth-Shaker laid to rest.
The thunderwyrm was felled.
Respite in a night of horrors. An all too brief surcease of the squall, but no end to the storm.
They come in waves. Two count had broken upon our levies, and Watches-Like-Raven wove strong.
The unrelenting tide, the tsunami, and now the third.
The third would be most cunning, they could not resist, but were content to let others sap our strength.
The third coming, on padded paw, content to let the Thunderwyrm shatter our resolution.
Horrors untold visited the other fronts that night. Tales I long to hear. But this is my telling…
To any Garou, there should be no worse sight, than the fallen.
Not our dead, which littered the field too few and far between to make me lose hope.
But those who have fallen to the Wyrm.
One cannot help but gaze upon their grotesque forms, hear their maddened cries, mocking howl.
And think; There but for the grace of Gaia, go I...
The wall separating Garou from Bane and Fomori is thick, no qualms casting stone upon their heads.
Like ghastly reflections, these once proud Warriors of Gaia, strike deep and resonant chords in us all.
Time has dulled the sting of the White Lions loss, Howlers who fell to madness eons ago.
Their deeds have shown them irredeemable, beyond all hope of salvation. Death is a mercy.
But it was not just the long forgotten cousin I saw in the woods that night. No ancient enemy.
But the fresh madness, the new horror, Black Rage fueling their answer to The Call.
Red Talon, Griffon’s Brood. Last vestiges of the true Wyld. The lupus of all other tribes seems less noble.
The undisputed foe of the Wyrm, few can more keenly sense the loss and pain that Gaia feels.
Dwindling in the twilight, on the eve of Apocalypse, nothing made me feel the imminent danger;
Than seeing fresh, raw wounds in the Garou Nation, as this feral pack fell in line with our age old enemy.
We tried to subdue them. We tried and to all but one, we failed. They fell in our midst, and struck.
So unprepared were we, that their gifts and their rites decimated us, age old fetishes broken.
Ahroun gifts for merciful death to the wyrm-ridden, silver claws, turned aside by timely intervention,
Philodox judgments turned on the righteous, Ragabash lesson and Galliard song turned to ruination.
Gaians pressed on, turning numbers and rage against their foes. One by one they fell, unable to weather.
Wendigo like ghosts, striking down foes in the forests. Like smoke in wind, the Dancer pack dissipated.
Claw, fang and fetish brought rest to the crazed Talons. One by one, they fell, only the leader tucking tail.
For the one restrained, the hungering hoard consumed, leaving her bones and husk among writhing fetters.
My wounds clotted, my legs found, I looked about. All my pack were safe, and East was whole.
Guy “Watches-like-Raven” let out one last triumphant howl, and collapsed, spent by his task.
The blood of Get was fresh on the ground, their loss stirring my heart, the Talons turning my stomach.
Howls from the rest of the fronts announced the same. The Sept was whole, allies boons paid with blood.*
If not for the grace of Makes-No-Sense, I would not - could not relate this tale. In return, I sing praise.
If not for the support of my Pack, Eye of the Storm, I would not have been there to witness this battle.
Sky-Breaker, Falcon’s-Daughter, Erik, Breaks–the-Mountain, Seeks the Prey; even Fig. I salute you.
To all those who stood beside us in battle, waging their own lives towards our combined success;
We all revel in the birth of a new Caern, Saber Tooth watches over us with guidance, his primal grace.
One of the most powerful known to exist, our reach by Luna’s path shall be far, and our renown great.
And so, too, shall our responsibility to Gaia. This unearthed treasure will not go un-coveted.
Vigilance, puissance, resolution and respect. Wisdom, guile, resourcefulness and tact. All this and more.
This battle is over.
The war goes on.
When will you Rage?
~Tiberius 'Tibs' O'Malley
Galliard of the Bone Gnawer Tribe
Eye of the Storm Pack