Hunting for Erik

[hazlogs]

It is currently 18:36 Pacific Time on Tue Oct 21 1997.
Currently on this gusty and cool fall twilight in the general St. Claire area, 
  it is 46 degrees Fahrenheit (7.8 degrees Celsius). The wind is coming from 
  the southwest at 19.5 mph. The ground is normal. Skies are clear with a 
  small chance of precipitation.
Currently the moon is in the waning Gibbous Moon phase (64% full).

The setting is the Grotto, and Megan has a few physical props laid within a 
  ring of small stones: two sticks crossed at the centers and whiplashed 
  together with a long, loose end, a long black feather, and a smaller, shiner 
  bit of rock, gold colored. She takes in Brightspot's report, and glances up 
  at Steven questioningly, but says nothing as Eamon speaks.
Steven says "There was nothing else. It just stopped. But it was clearly 
  inside of our Bawn. Something pentrated the wards and snatched him off. Or 
  he has fully turned and was picked up by his friends."
Shea makes a face. "Let's look for him, before we travel that road, hey?"
Falcon's Wing's ears go flat, but that's his only comment on Steven's 
  assumptions.
Steven shrugs. "Whatever," he says, his mood still dark.
Megan gives Shea an appreciative half-grin, then looks over at Brightspot. 
  "Manage to find anything of his?" she asks the cub gently.
Shea's smile curves wider at Megan, before she picks her way toward Steven, 
  and, tucking her hands into her pockets, murmurs, "A word in your ear, 
  m'blood?"
Steven tilts his head toward Shea, curious.
Shea's eyebrows quirk upward, when she's finished speaking, eyes on Steven, as 
  if awaiting his approval.
Steven turns to Shea, looks like he might reply, stares at Kasie and then 
  grunts once, and gives a short nod. His facial expression lightens some, 
  though he arms remain crossed.
Brightspot's ears lower as she answers Megan's question. No, he mostly kept 
  his stuff with him. Sorry.
Megan nods simply, then says, "And I'm assuming you talked to Robert and he's 
  in the dark. So--" she checks to make sure Steven and Shea are done, nods 
  again, then smiles thinly at everyone, mostly relaxed but still feeling the 
  tension of the circle. "We come here to perform the Rite of Questing Stone, 
  to search for Erik, metis Fianna Galliard." She leans over to pick up the 
  rock, out of the pocket of her coat pulling a knife. "Blood the stone, and 
  say his name, as you focus your mind on the power that will reveal to us 
  where he may be," she says, as she winds up in front of Shea, offering her 
  the blade hilt first.
Shea takes the knife hilt, and lays the blade into the palm of her hand. Eyes 
  closing and brow furrowing, she speaks, "Lord and Lady, Gaia guide us to 
  Erik Daae, Fianna Galliard." The blade is tugged through her hand, and the 
  knife offered back to Megan, to be passed on.
Megan offers the stone to catch some of Shea's blood, then moves on to Steven, 
  offering him the knife solemnly and catching his eyes as she tries to gauge 
  the volatile Galliard's mood.
Falcon's Wing contorts and blurs as he is transformed.
Falcon's Wing shifts into Homid form.
Steven accepts the knife with an air of reverence. Whatever his feelings might 
  be towards the Metis, a Rite is a Rite, and sacred to Gaia. He takes the 
  knife and runs it across his palm, saying in a low voice, "May Father Stag 
  guide us on the path toward Sings in Shadows, Fianna," his voice pauses for 
  more than a moment before he completes the sentence, "Galliard." He hands 
  the knife back to his packmate with a solemn nod.
Megan repeats the motion with the stone as well, then moves to Brightspot; 
  with the cub in lupus, she says softly, "Put your paw out, and I will hold 
  the knife for you to cut yourself on." In her left, blood-smeared palm rests 
  the stone.
Brightspot looks up at Megan. I can do it, she tells her quietly, then shifts 
  up. Accepting the knife without hesitation, Kasie starts speaking as she 
  lowers it to her palm, "Please help us find," she inhales sharply as she 
  slices open her hand, "Please help us find Erik, a Fianna Galliard, and my 
  friend." She holds the knife out for the elder Fianna to take back.
Megan gives Kasie a look a mixture of study and understanding concern, then 
  passes on to Derrick, offering the knife ritually.
Derrick accepts, acting somewhat less casually than usual. Running the knife 
  lightly over his wrist, he says, "May we be guided to Erik Daae, Sings in 
  Shadows of the Fianna, Guardian of the Hidden Walk." He bows his head 
  briefly, and then hands the knife back to Megan.
Megan accepts it, turns to Eamon and offers it to him last, giving the 
  grinning ragabash a slight one of her own.
Eamon nods and takes the knife from Megan, slicing a thin red line in his 
  palm. "Gaia, light our path, take us to our septmate, Erik Sings-in-Shadows, 
  Galliard of the Fianna." He hands the knife back to Megan.
Megan repeats the process, with a flicker of pain, blooding the stone last, 
  and pulls together sticks and string, feather and stone so that the feather 
  acts much like a pointer with the rock as a weight, tied to the end of the 
  string. "Bones of Gaia's body, blood of those who seek, show us where our 
  lost Septmate lies." The breeze blows the feather slightly, this way and 
  that, and tension grows as Megan remains still. Time crawls past in silence, 
  until finally, the Philodox gives a slight shake of her head, with defeat. 
  "Nothing," she concludes, then after a slight pause. "Eamon, maybe you'll 
  have better luck?"
Eamon nods and shifts to a more sensitive form.
Ever-Grinning lifts his nose to the wind and sniffs, moving about the area in 
  a circle, his ears shifting this way and that, searching for any sign.
Ever-Grinning sits back on his haunches after a minute or so of this, looking 
  as nonplussed as a wolf can look. ~I can't get anything either.~
Megan looks perturbed. "How rare is that? I mean, it happens with the Rite 
  occasionally, especially if they're blocked somehow."
Steven frowns deeply. "What now?" he asks. Though, he adds, in Gaelic, "Maybe 
  he's dead."
Kasie sits up, shifting her weight as if trying having grown unused to this 
  form. "Why-" she cuts off that question and looks at Steven as he asks his.
Ever-Grinning looks at Megan. ~Well, either it just didn't work, or he's 
  trying to hide from us. It's harder then. Kasie, why don't you take us to 
  where his trail ended?~
Megan nods, and gives an odd glance to Shea, but then lays aside her ritual 
  objects in preparation for leaving to find the spot.
Kasie nods and shifts down again before leading them away. I can show you.
Kasie contorts and blurs as she is transformed.
Kasie shifts into Lupus form.
Brightspot leads the group south, back towrad the bawn. The trip is a short 
  one, as the location where the Metis disappeared is not far from the edge of 
  the bawn itself, near its northwest corner.

Eric pages all: Where Erik disappeared was actually in the Umbra, not the 
  Realm. I didn't clarify that when I told Kasie what she'd found, and I 
  discovered tonight that she's not allowed to go in the Umbra by herself. We 
  can either say someone was with her or she found it in the Realm, makes no 
  difference to me.
Eric pages all: You're there.

Shea's shoulders drop a bit, when the trail ends. "Begin again from here, 
  Eamon?"
Ever-Grinning nods and tries again.
Brightspot sits, watching with concern.
Derrick snuffles about a bit, and then settles down to watch Eamon.
Derrick contorts and blurs as he is transformed.
Derrick shifts into Lupus form.
Ever-Grinning chuffs. "Nothing."
Steven looks at Shea, looks like he's ready to say something, maybe repeat 
  himself. He grunts instead, shaking his head.
Falcon's Wing's tail lashes irritably. And no Wyrm, although that's obvious. 
  Trail's cold.
Shea, in turn, glances at Megan, one shoulder lifting slightly, then dropping 
  again. "Shadowside, then? It's the last place."
Ever-Grinning sniffs the ground with normal sense, trying to pick up any kind 
  of trail.
Ever-Grinning nods and looks around for something to reach with.
Ravenfeeder chuffs agreement. Sure. If he *has* turned...
Finding a place to reach is simple enough. Soon all the Garou are on the other 
  side. Like the Realm, however, there are no clues to be found. The trail is 
  long-cold.
Brightspot's ears go back as she looks to Ravenfeeder. He wouldn't, the cub 
  tells her with all certainty.
Ever-Grinning growls. ~Now what?~
Steven frowns even more deeply. "You're the no moon. This isn't my speciality. 
  He's either dead, hiding, or otherwise concealed. Tell me when someone finds 
  something worth bothering with." He shifts in to lupus and trots off to find 
  a place back through to the Realm.
Falcon's Wing doesn't supposes there are any Spirits hanging around that we 
  could ask?
Ever-Grinning sniffs around for any possible trails to follow.
Ravenfeeder looks after Heart-of-Fury curiously, then chuffs a little sigh.
Ever-Grinning looks up. ~Shea, I believe that's your territory.~
Shea reaches over to ruffle Ravenfeeder's fur lightly, then she nods to 
  Ever-Grinning. "Right-o." She sets about looking for the nearest spirit-type.
Most of the spirits in the area are of the unsentient sort: trees, stones. 
  There are a few animal spirits, however.
Shea lures in a squirrel spirit, crouched over her heels, with one hand 
  extended, as if she might actually have food. Whiskers twitching, and black 
  eyes bright, the spirit darts toward and away from the theurge several 
  times, before it settles on a wary distance, from which to study the Garou 
  as a group. After a moment's consideration, it chitters scoldingly, and 
  darts a few paces away. Shea calls after it, in the spirit's tongue. *Not 
  going to hurt you, little one. We're just looking for another wolf-thing, 
  like us. Tall, with a white-face.*
The spirit replies in its own tongue, chittering excitedly. *Seen.*
Shea blinks, back straightening a bit. "He .. the squirrel saw him." Without 
  waiting for encouragement, Shea presses, *Where? When?*
Falcon's Wing perks up, frustrated that he can't ask further questions.
Ever-Grinning says, ~Great. The squirrel saw him.~
The squirrel-spirit replies, *Two nights back. Three nights. Five nights. Saw 
  one, two, three, four like you!* It's obviously very proud of itself.
Shea translates, disappointed in the response. Ravenfeeder pads forward to 
  nudge the theurge's shoulder, suggesting that she ask for more detail. 
  Shea's forehead wrinkles, and she offers, *Did any of them look different? 
  Bad?*
Falcon's Wing says blankly, Four?
Ever-Grinning says, ~Oh, Jesus. What the hell's that supposed to mean?~
Ravenfeeder flicks an ear, nosing Ever-Grinning but not looking entirely calm 
  herself. Maybe nothing. Maybe everything.
The little spirit cocks its head to one side and thinks very hard about that. 
  *One different, all white.*
Falcon's Wing looks at himself. I didn't steal him. Ask her if they beat him 
  up or something, Thatcher.
Shea translates, then with a sigh, climbs to her feet. "It wouldn't matter, 
  Derrick. It wouldn't know. One two three four is just nonsense. It could 
  have seen four of us, and one white, just walking through on patrol, or 
  whatnot." Still, she asks, switching back to spirit speech. *Did any of the 
  wolf-things get hurt?*
Ever-Grinning says, ~Just ask it where they went.~
It gives a big affirmative. *Saw one. Different. All white, but not like that 
  one.* It looks at Falcon's Wing. *Different,* it repeats firmly. *Saw it 
  fight, fall down. All dead. Taken back for dinner.*
Shea frowns, as she passes that information along.
Falcon's Wing whurfs? Back where?
Shea crouches again. *Where, little friend? Did you see where they went to 
  eat?*
Ravenfeeder's ears snap forward at Shea's translation. Eaten? Do you think he 
  means that literally?
The squirrel looks around himself several times, and finally looks back at 
  Shea. *Gone home.*
Ever-Grinning says, ~Who knows what it means?~
Falcon's Wing intones, The Shadow.
Shea holds a hand up to Ravenfeeder, staying her a moment, to ask, *Home 
  -where-?*
The squirrel gives Shea a look as if she might be dense. *Gone home. Here then 
  gone. Gone away, disappear.* It looks around again, then hops over to one 
  particular spot. *Here, then gone.*
Ever-Grinning sniffs around the spot the squirrel is referring to.
Ravenfeeder settles down next to Shea impatiently at the hand, tongue running 
  down her muzzle to betray nervousness.
Shea translates that bit, too, and leans against Ravenfeeder. "We're never 
  going to find him, at this rate," she murmurs.
Falcon's Wing snuffles the spot as well. What, could they maybe have reached 
  back through? Can you just disappear from one Umbral realm to another, or 
  what?
Ravenfeeder chuffs. Ask why they attacked the white one. I am wondering if it 
  was really white, or if the squirrel cannot communicate better.
Shea begins, "How'm I supposed to ask it if it's having trouble tell.. 
  nevermind." She does, in fact, ask the squirrel if it knows why the white 
  one was attacked.
*It attacked! Said trespass. Other kill.*
Shea translates dutifully, looking perplexed. "Trespass. That's what the 
  bloody spiders told -me-.."
Falcon's Wing's ears perk up. Spiders? What spiders?
Ravenfeeder noses Shea with growing agitation. The white one attacked, and 
  said trespass, or did the ones attacking the white one say trespass?
Shea explains, "There're pattern spiders killing tree spirits, and binding 
  them, claiming the Weaver's moving in, and claiming Wyld territory. Gaia 
  only knows if the two things are related, but, the spiders kept saying we 
  were trespassing. And the.." She frowns more in earnest. *The white one said 
  trespass? Little friend, were there man-things there, too? Do you remember? 
  Man-things with metal arms? Or with fire in their hands?*
It looks more exited now. *Man-thing here. White one said trespass. White one 
  attacked. Man-thing killed.*
Falcon's Wing looks up from his snuffling further afield. How would a human be 
  in the Umbra?
Ever-Grinning says, ~So Erik, if it was Erik, found something trespassing 
  here, challenged it and fought it. Possibly got killed, then got taken 
  somewhere else.~
Shea all but growls, despite her form. "No," she snaps. "They're not human, if 
  they're the same thing. Fomor, maybe. Dancers, maybe. Mages, maybe. -Not- 
  human."
The little spirit wrinkles its nose at all the strange talk.
Ravenfeeder looks over at Ever-Grinning with agreement, giving Brightspot a 
  sympathetic glance. It would make sense.
Falcon's Wing wrinkles his nose back at it, and wonders if anyone has a 
  mirror, so we can maybe see if there's anything on the other side?
Shea thanks the squirrel spirit, promising to leave acorns for it, and 
  suggests to the group, "If we grab one of the human .. whatever they are.. 
  we could question it. Or follow it. Track it."
Ravenfeeder looks up at the squirrel, then speaks to the others. I am out of 
  ideas, now. This does not feel good.
Falcon's Wing's ears flicker. Fomori getting through the wards? No, I don't 
  think so at all.
The spirit rattles off a response, saying that it looks forward to her next 
  visit, then scampers up a tree.
Shea scowls at Falcon's Wing. "Not everything works the way it's supposed to, 
  in the neat version of the rules, unfortunately enough."
Falcon's Wing will certainly be on watch for random Fomori with strange arms.