"Next time, we should rent a U-Haul."

[hazlogs]

It is currently 14:27 Pacific Time on Sat Aug 5 2017.

Currently in Saint Claire, it's a sunny day. The temperature is 77 degrees Fahrenheit (25 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from the north at 3 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 29.93 and falling, and the relative humidity is 48 percent. The dewpoint is 56 degrees Fahrenheit (13 degrees Celsius.) For more detail, see: http://www.wunderground.com/cgi-bin/findweather/getForecast?query=98501

Currently the moon is in the waxing Full (Ahroun) Moon phase (87% full).

The patrolling Shadow Lord isn't far behind. She wears her breed form rather than anything more substantial, though the reasons why are clear enough: a rucksack, primarily, packed light but packed enough that there's clearly provisions inside. She quirks a brow at Brings-the-Pack's positioning, drawing the pack down off her shoulders to rest it on one of the rocks. "Gatekeeper," she says cordially, upon seeing Jamethon.

Brings-the-Pack, by his position near the fire pit, regards the new arrivals, giving a nod to each, but otherwise largely contemplating the flames.

Jamethon tips his head and spear in response to the greeting and walks over to the firepit. "You have grit, Warper," he says over to the Cougar, "I respect that. Though worry about its long-term effect on your health."

The whistling grows louder, bit by bit, as Nolan nears, dropping off once the ragabash comes into view at the edge of the caern. He takes a moment to scan the open space, and then offers a lazy, two-fingered salute to those already present. "Well, hey," he says, hitching the pack up higher on his shoulders. "You all ready to go?"

Salem arrives in wolf form, though reverts to homid as he leaves the treeline, dressed in the usual jeans and t-shirt, a light backpack hanging off his thin shoulders. His youthful face is tight and grim, with more than an edge of ill temper.

Sandra offers little more than a nod of confirmation for the time being, her own temperment not looking much better than Salem's. Might be why she's opting for silence, for the moment.

Brings-the-Pack suggests to Jamethon, who spoke to him, "I have tricks up my sleeves. Even when I have no sleeves." He pushes to all fours and stretches as Nolan asks about readiness to depart. "Ready."

Nolan studies Sandra for just a moment, but the approach of the Glass Walker pulls his attention and he offers the youth a repeat of his earlier salute. "All right. How many cars do we have? It's not *that* long a drive to the trailhead, but I don't think we'll want all of us tightly packed, even so, given Luna's blessings."

Jamethon quirks a grim grin with a very slight huff of a grunted laugh. He looks over at Nolan, then Salem, and points with the spear out in the direction of the group's destination. He speaks with his usual gravelled voice, but there is an energetic positivity in that tone today, "We seek answers today. May wisdom guide us." Towards Nolan he suggests more casually, "I've got my motorcycle at Edgewood and it's big enough for someone to ride with me."

Sandra takes a look at some of the others at the mention of a motorcycle, then back at Jamethon. "If you don't mind the occasional bout of cussing, I could probably manage it. Though someone lighter might be preferable." Beat. "Unfortunately, unless someone is willing to go into town and use the funds I give them to pick up a rental, I won't be of much help, in this respect."

Brings-the-Pack helps to simplify transporation logistics. "I'll meet you at the trailhead." Apparently he has his own transportation, knows of a shortcut, or is capable of fast, long-distance running. He begins padding off towards the northeast.

Karin arrives at the caern, slightly surprised to see severl people already here discussing things. Still, once she's shifted from lupus back to homid, she'll over a wave of greeting to those already assembled. "I only have a learner's permit, at this point, otherwise I'd offer. I wasn't old enough before, and haven't had much access to cars since getting back."

Nolan quirks a grin as the cat starts to head off, gaze following the mage. "I have room for 4, myself included," he says as he looks back to the others. "Without the danger of putting someone on a lap. So I think we're probably good. The directions are at the house, if anyone else is coming, but I think they'll need to find their own transportation. Shall we?"

Salem eyes the departing mage-cougar, then turns back to the others. "Let's go," he says, rather brusquely.

---

It's not a bad drive, per se. The sun is shining, with few clouds in the sky, and once they've gone a fair distance along I-90 the trees and hills give way to what seems like little more than miles and miles of flatland full of yellow grasses, farm fields, and the occasional nest of wind turbines. Welcome to eastern Washington. It's about an hour and change worth of driving before Nolan has them pull into a rest stop somewhere along this infinite expanse, perhaps thirty to forty minutes out from Spokane, judging by the road signs. The rest stop itself is certainly nothing to speak of, just some moderately well kept restrooms, a slightly less browned grassy area, a large parking lot with half set aside for semis, and a slight overlook of a tiny little creek and, beyond, even more endless grassy plains.

"This way," Nolan says, pointing out away from the highway. He doesn't wait, but starts the less vehicular part of the trek.

Shouldering the rucksack, Sandra doesn't comment on the ride up, save to air out her sleeveless shirt a little. Gives a little 'after you' gesture to Jamethon once he's settled, gets herself situated, and will follow in turn, keeping an eye on their surroundings.

Salem reshoulders his backpack and follows Nolan readily; one gets the sense that he's glad to be out of the car and no longer sitting still.

Jamethon kills the engine and kicks down the stand of his motorbike as they arrive, allowing Sandra to disembark first. He then stands as well and stretches before shaking off the road dust from his boots. All this done, he starts to follow after with Sandra in tow.

Karin gets out of the vehicle she rode in, taking a few moments to look around before she sets off after the others.

Slug gets out behind Salem and stretches, arms first, then his legs and back, unfolding in a series of elongated steps like a cat waking from a long nap. He looks at Salem, then up at the sky, and ducks his head to light a cigarette.

Pack> Slug says "Next time I'm going to shift and sleep in the trunk."

Pack> Salem says "Next time, we should rent a U-Haul."

There's a little game trail that leads down to the creek, and it looks as though it continues up the other side. For looking so non-descript from any distance, the grassy terrain almost immediately proves to be rougher than expected. It's going to be a little slow going, but at least everyone present is more experienced with hiking than the average visitor at this rest stop. There are a handful of other people around that give the group a few strange looks as they head down, but most of them just as quickly avert their eyes and mind their own business.

Pack> Slug says "Garou-Haul," Slug corrects."

Pack> Salem says "...That was terrible."

Nolan is breathing a little hard as they continue on, but he seems confident, at least of the direction. He pauses, looking back to make sure that the whole group is still together, and then gives another nod ahead. "This way," he says again as he starts picking his way through the water. "Across the creek, and then over the hill."

Brings-the-Pack partially rejoins the gaggle of garou, though he strays far off to the left and behind the group, sometimes unexpectedly disappearing from sight and sometimes re-appearing as hikers going in the opposite direction pass by. The cougar-shaped mage seems quite comfortable off the game trail and in the woods. He's fairly stealthy, only the occasional scuff, rustle of leaves, or snap of a twig giving away his presence.

Salem shoots Slug a look that's partially amused and partially disgusted, like he's not sure whether he wants to laugh or throw something at his packmate.

Sandra makes use of the slow-going pace to make an occasional assessment of the terrain in general, ignoring other hikers for the most part, occasionally pulling some water from the rucksack to sip at it. Or, at least, quietly offer it to any without provisions of their own. She'll wade into the creek once the new directions are given, not seeming all that concerned with the state of her boots.

Fashionably late, there appears to be at least one newcomer tacked on to the group: a slightly out of breath Black Fury jogging to catch up. "Hey," Monica huffs, giving a little wave of her hand. "Thought we might've missed you guys." And by 'we' she means herself, and the decidedly less out-of-breath Gnawer Galliard in tow. To whom she vaguely gestures.

Jamethon doesn't seem to have his spear with him at this point, which is not surprising unless he was planning on jousting from his bike. This may explain why his right hand is fidgety and occasionally clenches and opens again. The hulking Fenrir, along with a couple of other almost as tall "hikers" makes quite the scene. When Monica arrives he stops to turn and regard her with a raising of his eyebrow. He does not comment or reply, simply giving a slight shake of his head as he turns back to continue on.

A little past the creek the ground stops rising, although it continues to be misleadingly uneven for what seemed to be flat plains from a distance. They have to be careful how they step to avoid twisted ankles. There's no trail now, aside from the one Nolan is forging. The long, yellow grasses are waist high and occasionally higher. Every now and then they spot a rabbit, or startle a few sparrows. After a while, the sound from the highway has muffled into nearly nothing, and the only real sounds beyond their own are that of the wind and the birds. It goes like this for quite some time, with the Garou entirely alone. Perhaps another forty minutes at least, maybe rounding out to a full hour. Eventually, however, Nolan breaks through into an area where the grasses haven't quite taken hold, where the rains have washed the earth clean from an area of broken stone, perhaps twenty feet wide in all. Plenty of rocks litter the ground of all sorts, scoured both by weather and time.

Slug has the advantage of being a former warder and having a set of long legs to lever himself across the terrain. He meets Salem's eye for a second, eyebrows raised just a tiny bit, and continues marching along. Walking is boring, so the Ragabash lets his mouth run. "Does this feel like the start of a horror movie to anyone else?" Slug flicks a hand through his recently-dyed hair, purple and black. "But a fucked up kind of movie, where the monsters get lost in the woods and chased around by teenagers..."

Nolan picks his way carefully over the uneven ground, but he doesn't seem terribly worried about which rocks he's stepping on, only how his feet are placed. Gaze firmly forward, he works his way toward the middle of the area, squinting as he tries to pick out the details. "Ah!" he says after a bit, and then points. "There." He picks up the pace to close the distance, pulling up just a few feet shy of the target of his gesture. "This one."

"Afternoon!" Felix greets the others cheerfully -- and, yes, somewhat less breathlessly -- as he and the Fury catch up. A canteen like Sandra's would probably have made sense, but he's actually just got himself a fair-sized bottle of Coke to drink from periodically. At least it's better than being dehydrated? Slug's remark about the movie gets a laugh from him. "I'd watch it," he says, and falls comfortably into step with Monica at the back of the group.

The rock that Nolan indicates, among all the many, many rocks that could be chosen, looks extremely old and pitted. It's striated stone of some kind, perhaps some form of sandstone, although it's hard to be sure. It's just the right size to be picked up with two hands, and looks as though it might be light enough to do so. Like the other rocks, it looks as though it has spent a long, long time being worn away by the weather.

Brings-the-Pack rejoins the group once they leave the game trail and start forging their own path, far from any humans they might bump into. As they come to the clearing, right after Slug speaks, he sings softly under his breath, "Nature trail to hell. In 3D." He separates again from the garou once they enter the clearing, and as Nolan finds the rock, the cougar lingers in the background in the event his presence is needed. Or not.

"Fairly certain I /have/ watched it," Salem says in reply to Felix. He regards Nolan's rock with a raised eyebrow. "Well. It /looks/ old."

Karin keeps up with the others, and if she's breathing a bit hard, well, that's to be expected after a long hike. She's apparently close enough to the mage to overhear his little song, because it gets a chuckle out of her.

Monica's a bit of a chatty cathy under her breath, starting with a murmured aside to the Galliard-- and then a light snort of a laugh at whatever she hears in response. From there, it defaults to pointing at random things (or people), and continuing to murmur. Like the proverbial kid in the back of the classroom. Spitballs may arise soon. Or would, if Nolan's announcement hadn't caught her attention, followed by Salem's observation. "There's a good Charlie Brown joke in here somewhere, I'm sure," she comments.

Sandra, for her part, has maintained her silence throughout the trip, flanking Nolan as he begins to zero in on his find, the rucksack set down somewhere safe for the time being, and the canteen she carries sipped.

"You'd know, right?" Slug chides Salem, exchanging a glance with the friendly neighborhood cougar.

Salem shoots Slug a /look/. And then gives him the finger.

Jamethon has clearly no issue with the long trek swallows as he regards the stone they arrive at, scrutinizing it with narrowed eyes. He then closes his eyes and takes a slow, steadying breath. Following this, the Godi holds his arms out to the side and stands tall to do his best Christ The Redeeemer impersonation, some sort of spiritual work taking place.

Nolan looks up as the others arrive and also have a chance to observe the target rock. "So. Uh. Here it is," he says, usefully. "So. Siek was pretty sure she'd be able to tell us things. If we can wake her up."

The announcement catches Felix's attention as well, of course, as does the interaction between Slug and Salem, which gets another small snort of a laugh, similar to some that some of the mutters with Monica did. Muttering's probably better behaviour than most of his actual classes got, anyway. He peers to get a look at the stone, head tilted. Yup. That's a rock, all right. "...well, rock on."

Karin asks, "So, then I assume some of us should cross the Gauntlet while others perform the ritual on this side?"

Slug grins at Salem and claps his hands together, eyes crinkling at the corners. "Right then, enough fun." The sixth cigarette of the hike is swapped out for the finest 7-11 cigar, something that smells as sweet and fruity as it does acrid. He glances from Karin to James and squats, waiting to see.

OOC Note: I had to leave at this point. Later...

---

(OOC) Reflection says "The awakening was a success and Salem had been sent to the Umbra when you logged out to make sure that nothing bad happened or the spirit didn't go back to slumber between the finishing of the rite and everyone arriving."

The other side is not so terribly different from the Realm, except in the ways the Umbra generally is. It seems...sharper, perhaps. More alive, fresher, the stars somehow brighter. But it still seems terribly peaceful. The broken rocks lie all around them, and the singular rock they've spent all day focusing on is here, instantly recognizable and instantly noticeable. In some ways, it is the same perhaps. The striations are still there, the general texture and color remain, although the color seems far more pronounced. But despite being the same relative size, it feels much, much larger to their senses; it seems to tower over them, in a way that can't seem to be described. No longer is it pitted and worn. No, it practically glows. There's the faintest sound as the first of the Garou cross over of sand running against itself, of a distant stone tumbling down from somewhere unseen.

Brings-the-Pack does not cease his patrolling as they prepare to cross over to the spirit world. He continues giving the garou a comfortable distance as they recover and reach. From time to time he seems to look at things that aren't there. But nothing seems to be triggering him into raising an alarm. Not yet, at least. And unlike the garou, he seems to have been unaffected by the heat. And he certainly got out of the draining ritual and spiritual sacrifice involved in that hours-long sacrament. "There is a small, stagnant creek about 100 yards to the east," he responds to Jamethon. "And nothing noteworthy has been near it since I found it several hours ago." To those arriving in the umbra, the cougar-mage, just seen in the realm, is also simultaneously present in the umbra.

Jamethon nods to the Warper and goes along with those that do not have an appropriate surface to make the crossing. The Fenrir melts down into the hispo as they travel the short distance

Sandra follows in her wolf form once she's shifted down to it, the canteen left with the rucksack for the time being.

Karin looks a bit surprised when she reaches the Umbra and sees Brings there. "You cross the Guantlet very quickly. It didn't look like you were even trying to when I left," she comments, and she crosses fairly quickly for a Garou.

Felix gives the blade a slightly dubious look -- fair size for a pocketknife, but still not a huge area and you do have to get the angles right -- but still looks as though he might be about to offer to let others try to use it as well, until the water plan gets hatched. Back to focusing, then; it's easier to make it work with just two of them anyway.

It takes a bit longer than it probably ought to for him to make it across this time, but he does manage it. The Umbra gets a good look around, and now there's time to appreciate the surroundings, including that sky, even nicer on this side. Still, the rock rather sucks the attention, just as it sucked the gnosis. He lifts his chin to it slightly in greeting, though he leaves the official 'hellos' for their ritual-leader to handle.

Perhaps it was to get an assist, or just a steadying effort that has Monica setting her hand on the Galliard's shoulder before the transition is made. She lets it go once they've managed it, her own gaze flitting hither and tither once they're over, though she doesn't seem quite in the appreciative mood.

Slug doesn't reach easily here, or quite so swiftly as those in his company, anyways. The eye in his hand vanishes with a little flick of the wrist, perhaps up his sleeve or into the other hand. Hard to say. It's only after a few moments does he find himself, or more accurately, his place in his new surroundings. "That's..." he wets his lips and rises back up into Glabro, even though it is somewhat pointless, all things considered. Instead of even considering communication, he turns and walks away, trotting in a crescent shape along the edge of the group to look for anything uncondusive to living.

Aside from what appears to be the newly Awakened rock spirit, and the presumably slumbering spirits of the other stones and the grasses, they appear to be alone out here. There's no sign of danger.

From the rock, there's no movement, although movement would be a difficult thing to expect. From that sense of...largeness, of grandness that surrounds them, there's nothing else either. Nothing, that is, except a strange, distant, almost imperceptible sound of a small stone hitting another.

Brings-the-Pack seems to sense the aura of the once-mountain as well. He pauses in his watching outwards to occasionally look inwards toward the rock. Or perhaps he's looking at something in the realm. Probably not, though. Probably not in this instance. He seems impressed by the awakened spirit. Very much so, in fact.

Felix glances to Monica, and closes up the knife, slipping it back into his pocket. He studies the spirit curiously for a bit, though he does catch Jamethon's cue. Okay, then. He inclines his head respectfully toward the rock, and waits. More waiting. At least this time it doesn't matter if his thoughts wander, though there are probably plenty to be had about the current situation regardless.

While the Shadow Lord is quick to follow the instruction, bringing her posture lower to the ground, her head bowed, Monica takes a moment or two to get with the program. She does, though, eventually, murmuring something like, "Right," under her breath. Followed by what sounds like a breathed, "Okay," her head bowing, in turn.

Reflection stands straight again and regards Slug, Salem and Brings. His voice does not confer the Spirit Speech just yet as he tells them, ~The Mountain From Ancient Times,~ he refers to the stone by this name, ~wants to know why?~

"Oh man," Slug says. "That is the... worst... question to ask," Slug looks at his Philodox companion, a packmate under Chimera, and the wizard. "I would say, uh... tell it about the Ooze, what it is, spiritually. Then ask it if it remembers anything about it, like, who sealed it." Slug looks way up at the seemingly infinitely tall rock and puts a hand on his temple, fingers tubbing. "I dunno if telling it about what the ooze is doing now would matter."

Karin says softly, "It may. It would likely understand. The ooze is like a river, eroding away _everything_, but instead of carrying away the sand to be used elsewhere, it erases it as if it never was."

Brings-the-Pack seems a little on the distracted side at the moment, as he continues circling wide and (mostly) looking outwards instead of inwards. Although the glances inwards towards the rock are becoming more and more common now that he's not protecting ritualists performing something that can't be disrupted.

Salem folds his arms across his chest and frowns. "Basically that. If it wants a good reason why we woke it, the Nothing is definitely that reason."

Reflection listens to what everyone has to say and has no need to hurry. In fact, he seems to be deliberate now in responding to this Spirit from the past. He speaks in the Mother's Tongue though there is power to the words for the spirit to understand as well. ~*Your great and ancient stone has existed for ages. We young rocks are new but we do exist. There is something as ancient as you that does not exist. It makes other things not exist. It flows over the stone and makes it become no stone. Do you know of this Nothing?*~

There's a soft sound from all around them, like sand being slowly poured. That sense of grandness seems to expand even further, or...no, it simply becomes a little visible now, as all around them, Garou and mage, the outside world becomes a bit darker, a little harder to see, as if a thin curtain has been drawn about the rocky clearing, and perhaps beyond it. The ground rumbles too, but gently, only just. This time, Jamethon receives two words, just two words, but two that can be directly translated for the others: *Wheel Eater*.

Reflection does in fact, without the Spirit Tongue, translate that for the others.

Karin blinks. "Wheel Eater? Is it tied to the history of our sept, then, I wonder? I'm not familiar with any old stories about Nothing from those days, but I haven't had time to learn nearly all of them, either."

Slug folds his legs up underneath him, sitting Indian style on the ground. He kisses his teeth and leans forward, propping his head up with an arm caught between his knee and his chin. "I don't think so," Slug says to Karin. "Wheel is... some Eastern Garou, and some Natives, they use it to talk about the world, the state of things. Life. I think we're talking big W-World Wheel, here."

Salem rolls his eyes heavenwards and mutters something in Serbian. "The Wendigo called the caern the Wheel. When Aspen and the others found it dormant and reawakened it, it was the Wheel Renewed. /But/, yes, this thing doesn't feel quite so regional as that."

Reflection once more, listens as the others speak and then chuffs out to them, ~What of the Consumer of Stone? It was never destroyed. Only contained. The transformation of the Caern could have released it.~

Brings-the-Pack looks around as the area darkens, and then continues spending even more time looking around after what should have been sufficient enough. His attention shifts back to the rock and then, intently, he focuses on the spirit. He adds nothing to the garou's conversation though, perhaps not extraordinarily well-versed in the current topic or not feeling he has anything in particular to add for the time being.

The striated, Awakened rock, still and unmoving, is suddenly not quite so still. One of those striations seems to slither away from the stone itself, a mud colored worm that works its way out of the rock and onto the ground, leaving behind a noticeable indentation. It curls around and around, forming a tight roll at their feet, even as the ground lightly rumbles once more. *Wheel Builder.* A sound of rolling stones, a distant, minor avalanche. *Wheel Eater.* Rushing sand. *Why?*

"No," Slug says, with surety in his voice. "THat had nothing to do with it." He drums his fingers on his scarred cheek, his middle finger resting in the center of the largest keloid canyon. "I 'talked' with a Mage saw across time and had been involved with this. He showed me things. He may have been lying, you know. People do, but..." Slug shrugs. "That wasn't the feeling I got from him. Renegade and his kind went into the mountains after a weapon, or something, and accidentally woke it up because they're idiots. Or maybe he knew exactly what he was doing, and he's still an idiot. It was... I think it was sealed in a dormant Caern. Maybe. It is 'awake' because it..." Slug wrestles for a word. "It isn't whole. Pieces of it have been scattered around, some in Hanford, some elsewhere." The earth moving is enough to get Slug up to his feet, the Ragabash throwing a vaguely worried look at Jamethon. "Uh-" Slug gnaws his lip. "To balance the Eater and Builder, and protect The Columbia?"

Reflection regards what is occuring and takes a few steps back, ~Take note of what you see and hear... the Mountain is trying to explain. When she asks Why, I do not believe she is asking us.~ He now sniffs at the air and studies what is happening then speaks to the Spirit again, ~*Where is the World Builder?*~

"That fucking Sept from Hanford, the Last Days," Salem says, grumbling, mostly to himself. "Fucking Shadow Lords."

Brings-the-Pack finally speaks up, perhaps prompted by Slug's comments. "Star Trek 2: The Wrath of Khan." Of course, what the mage initially says doesn't really come across as helpful. Fortunately, he elaborates upon his statement. "Khan uses the Genesis device as a weapon, though its intended purpose was to create life. The Something is likely just as destructive--reality breaking--as The Nothing. Both could be considered weapons to those who seek stasis and stability." He then suggests, "Wheel Eater and Wheel Builder, together, need the Wheel itself. For balance."

Reflection snaps out at the air and looks to Salem, then over at Brings, ~Didn't the City Spirit tell us something about all this? And...~ A pause and a thought occurs almost violently to the Fenrir, ~*Magpie!*~ The rest he speaks out normally, ~She was totem of The Last Days. Connected to what happened there. The Eater may have /remembered/ her. The Wheel Builder too may be able to remember her.~

Suddenly, /quite/ suddenly, neither Garou nor mage hear or see anything. They feel cool earth. The sensation of slow, inevitable motion, the march of endless years, the patience of aeons. Each feels, with certainty, that they haven't moved at all, that they're really right where they were before, but nevertheless they can feel the pull of things, the push of stone, the impossible heat and thrumming of something far, far, deep below them. It feels right. Almost comfortable. Then something /pushes/. /Pulls/. Earth is torn away, and they see sky and sea before them. An entire muddy shoreline stretches out where miles of grassy plains should be, hot baking sun instead of a night sky. There are no real plants to be seen, only mud and rock, and an entire continent being pulled away, swallowed by ocean and sky.

"I never saw-" Slug begins, right before things get Kubrick. He plops right back onto his flanks, danger forgotten in the wake of a spectacle that would make IMAX look like Powerpoint. No jokes or speech come from him, he merely observes in rapt silence.

Startlement and full moons have never been a good mixture in Salem's life. He goes very stiff and very still, jaw clenched. He concentrates on breathing; inhale, exhale.

Reflection takes on the glabro to be understood easily without being seen and speaks, "Breathe. This is a message. And we must focus."

Brings-the-Pack says nothing. Is nothing.

"I thought y'all said that spirit that wanted to be City Father accidentally woke it by wakin' the other one--" Felix starts, and then everything is different, and he breaks off. Huh. That's a thing. Jamethon's remarks come before he tries to speak himself, and he stays quiet, looking around and trying to take it in. More focus. At least this is interesting, though.

All of western Washington is simply gone, but eastern Washington is unrecognizable. No trees. No plains. Merely endless mud flats, craggy peaks and rocky outcroppings. They see no birds. No signs of animal life. Not at first, anyhow. As their view gets higher and higher, as they can take in the devastation more and more, green seems to spring into being. Small things at first, then more and more complex plant life, followed by small animal life, then larger. Wait, /is that a dinosaur/? Things move faster and faster, and suddenly the shoreline stops being a shoreline as the first volcanic island impacts it. And then another, and another. And another. Eruptions fill the skies. The earth shudders again and again. The land reshapes itself over and over again, and the Garou and mage not only watch, it's as if they can feel it inside themselves. Push. Pull. Push. Pull. The two names form in their minds again with every sensation. Wheel Builder. Wheel Eater. Push and Pull. More islands join the mountain range now, more earthquakes, and now the sea floor itself juts out of the water, forming with the land, shaping and reshaping, molding and remolding, and as their eyes are drawn to familiar places, they can feel, rather than see, the Wheel--their Wheel, their Caern--take its first shape. The mountain ranges start to look familiar. The violence starts to settle. And slowly the plains reform, and they find themselves standing--or sitting now, as the case may be--in the same spot, in the broken stone clearing, where they were just moments before.

Jamethon is totally silent, mark your calendar folks.

Salem swears under his breath.

Felix is also silent. For a whole second or three, when it seems clear that they're pretty much back where they started, and then there's a quiet, "....daaaaamn." He glances around at the others. "So... I mean we kinda knew they were opposin' forces, right? Do we hafta get them to balance somehow before they'll go back to sleep, if they're always pushin' an' pullin' on each other? 'cause I ain't lookin' forward to more volcanoes showin' up." A small pause. "Mostly."

"Yeah," Slug says. "Like... Ying, and Yang. I think I know where some of the pieces are, I just don't know how to put them together, how the two halves were sealed up together. I think everyone, every Garou that might have known how is dead."

Brings-the-Pack is likewise silent for a time, perhaps waiting until someone else speaks. And then Felix does. "There is a definite subterranean feel to all of this. And there is a subterranean essence to the underground parking garage that served Hilliard Hospital--if you can still recall the existence of that place?" The question is phrased not as an insult, but as a legitimate question, as if the mage might think that knowledge of the existence of an entire major local hospital might have been wiped from the garou's minds. "That is where the ooze came from that ate the Queen's Tower and her forces from within. Perhaps that is where the wheel pivots, or the imbalance occurred."

Jamethon's eyes go wide and he gasps, "Not... not together. I mean, not with each other." He looks over at all of the Garou present and suppose something aloud, "I have been thinking the wrong way this whole time. Wyld and Wyrm. Create and destroy. They didn't create and destroy though, did they?" Here the Fenrir taps his foot and shoots a glance up towards Brings, "They created at least one Caern. They created the Triquetral Accord. Together. Plowing the earth and planting seeds. They need to be in balance for the earth, for Gaia, to grow correctly. We just saw eons of this world at their hands, do not mistake it for sudden things. Together, in balance, they make Gaia bones and skin and blood over the ages."

Felix flicks a glance toward Monica, and an even briefer one Salemward, before he looks back to the cougar. "Yeah, the forgettin' ain't got that far yet," he says, "I remember it, an' goin' down there an' shit." He shifts position; always antsy when the moon's large, and trying to stay still all afternoon and evening hasn't helped. "So, wait, they do gotta be balanced, but not with each other?" he says to Jamethon's exclamation, "With what, then?"

A few more stones can be heard falling against each other, though of course, no stones actually do. The sound comes from above as well, where there is nothing but the strangely shaded sky.

Jamethon seems to not be about to calm down just yet and waves his hand through the air in a slightly dismissive fashion. "Yes!" He calls out, "Together but not together. You don't put put Helios and Luna together to make a day, one must follow the other. Then they can do the work they were made for. The wheel must be renewed. What fool thought they could awaken something this ancient and powerful? This Nothing was always there. It had to be. But think! You don't put Luna to sleep... not with out unbalancing the day. What would Helios do if Luna was suddenly... gone?"

Brings-the-Pack offers, after the Get speaks in his direction, "They are clearly connected, and the tug-of-war sensations the rock just shared enforces their symbiotic nature. But magnets can interact with one another without touching, too. And separate masses can interact withough touching through gravitational pull. Contact, in both these situations, can be violently destructive. Or not." Well that was incredibly unhelpful in coming to some kind of easy resolution. "I suspect Ghost is tied in with this somehow. And Ghost's simulacrum. And Magpie. And Hilliard." He then underscores the obvious. "But I am speculating on insubstantialities and possibilities."

Salem sits down and rubs at his forehead. "It feels as though we get more and more of the pieces, but the connective tissue, the solution..." He trails off.

Clip, clop, goes another rock. *Gone.*

"A'ight but... we were already talkin' about trying to get them BOTH to sleep, not just the Nothin'," Felix says, "'cause way back, at least what we thought when I got here, it was that the Noth-- World Eater got woke 'cause that spirit that wanted to be City Father acidentally woke up the World Builder first, so maybe if we got the Builder to sleep the Eater would too. An' yeah, I reckon all that shit's intertwined too 'cause it keeps comin' up together. Maybe the world ain't really stories but it sure acts a lot like 'em most of the time."

Jamethon takes wild steps over towards Brings, not aggressive but the energy is high like he's on a cocaine bender. He then wheels around and looks at Salem, "Ghost and the other Ghost. Each connected to something right? Something powerful and likely angry. Because damn it, you would be angry too if your lover was stolen away from you! I believe this... the Dark Mage. I don't think he woke the Nothing. That's giving too much credit." He listens to something and calls out, "See!? I think he, or someone, found a way to seperate the Builder and the Eater. Perhaps even draw the Builder away. Or trap it. Or obscure it! I don't know... Again! I don't believe for a moment that even a powerful Mage could really /change/ one of these spirits. But they wouldn't have to change it, would they? Just break the cycle."

Something weird starts happening around them again. The ground rumbles, but as before, it's gentle. Pebbles, however, dirt and sand all start drawing inward, pulling toward the spot right in front of the Awakened rock, forming two separate but equally sized piles that mix and swirl rapidly together.

Brings-the-Pack looks about to take a step back from the overstimulated Get as the garou approaches him, but then the cougar-mage holds his ground. "The Nothing has a distin...." He trails off as the rock's activities draw his focus.

Jamethon considers something for a moment then spins around again, looking to Felix and waves his hands outward from each other in the air before him. "Forget sleep. Forget awake. These are not the right words. Just like The Nothing. This is a new name. Think of purpose instead. We talk of balance like some mystical concept and I can not believe I am saying this, but don't! Be literal. Whatever was done needs to be undone. If the Eater is being confused? We must break that enchantment. If the Builder has been trapped or lured away? We must /free/ it!" As the movement begins Jamethon again turns to regard it, and laughs gleefully, "See? There are two equal things here that are separate and now there is only one... */WHY!?/ Why is there only one?*"

A soft hiss of sand running along a smooth rock surface. *Shhh.* The two separate piles of dirt, stones, and pebbles gradually slow their churning, until each has formed a unique, roundish shape, distinct from each other. Again, the Garou and mage can hear stones cracking against each other, from far away. *Wheels.*

Felix considers this for a moment. "Well. There ain't only one. Or... I dunno, maybe there is? Which of 'em does earthquakes an' shit?" he asks. "'cause we were definitely gettin' those, an' I remember it bein' said they were the Builder wakin' up, or somethin' along those lines." He watches the piles of dirt and rock, brow slightly knit. No sign that it's setting off any lightbulbs for him, anyway. But it does look neat!

Salem looks like he's developing a nasty headache. Brow furrowed, he stares at the moving earth. "Jeb tapped into the Builder's power. He didn't bind it, move it, anything. But the small amount of power he tapped... brought it closer to waking. Less asleep. In addition, the fucking shitlords of Last Days screwed up something in Hanford, and the shit that happens in that town, combined with the Black Spiral Dancers' meddling, made it worse. But the Builder being tapped by Jeb is /also/ what fucked with the Ender, the Nothing." Pause. "Or some goddamn fucking thing like that."

Jamethon suddenly sobers and stills as if we was slapped, and holds his hand up over his mouth. "Wheels." He repeats with a dry mouth and cracking voice. "Two... Wheels." He looks to Salem, "You're a genius. And right." He gestures to one pile and says, "The Wheel... /The/ Wheel." He then points to the other pile and adds, "The Last Days." He says this with intense certainty.

Brings-the-Pack says, hesitently, as if he fully realizes what he's about to say next will go over like a giant lead balloon. "So.... Last Days needs to be resurrected? As a Hive? For balance?"

A small nod from Felix at what Salem says, not confirming but absorbing the confirmation and the bits he hadn't heard. The knit in the Gnawer's brow deepens a moment at Jamethon's declaration, and he continues staring at the piles a couple seconds more. "...so... we need to do somethin' involvin' both caerns?" he asks, looking over to the Get, and blinks at Brings' suggestion. "Well, hold up, he said it ain't exactly Wyld an' Wyrm, so maybe we don't gotta go THAT far...? I mean, they were sleepin' fine while it's been not-a-Hive an' ours's been fine, right?"

Jamethon actually gives Brings an incredulous look, followed by shaking his head vigorously, "There was a Caern there, before there was a Hive, if it came to us being able to reawaken the land." He then runs his fingers down and through his beard while considering in Felix's direction, "Perhaps. But it all really started to fall apart when the Hanford site was built, didn't it? Even the Hive there was troubled. Then that Warper was messing with," He looks up to Brings-the-Pack, "What was it again?"

Brings-the-Pack offers, "Something pertaining to atomic energy and atom-splitting. As well as some exploration into the origins of existence and non-existence."

Salem wordlessly massages his forehead.

Jamethon nods to the Warper and offers, "Right." The Fenrir then turns to the piles of earth and steps closer to them, gesturing towards the one that he indicated was The Wheel before and asks the Spirit, *Wheel Builder?*

The pile of stones and sand that Jamethon identified as Last Days is swept away, as though by an invisible hand. Clip, clop, goes the sound of an invisible stone hitting another invisible stone. *Gone.* The other 'wheel' remains. As Jamethon points, there's another clack. *Yes.*

Felix watches that sweeping away, and then glances around at the others. "So... if there's supposed to be both of 'em an' there's only one, either that one's gotta be a caern again or ours... needs to not?" That second part is said with a similar 'this is not likely to be a popular option' as the cougar's remark. It's clearly not popular with him.

Jamethon closes his eyes and kneels down, he first looks over to Felix and swallows before saying, "I do not thing it is that simple, or perhaps that complicate. He then puts his hand on the ground where the swept away pile just was and speaks to the Spirit again, *This Wheel is gone. But the Eater remains?*

The response is the echoing rattle of many tiny pebbles.

Jamethon runs his tongue over his teeth and then grits them together as his eyes search from an unmoving face for an answer. He nods and stands, *I understand. Do you know why the Eater would consume Magpie?*

More pebble rattling.

Jamethon looks to those around him, "She does not know these things. They are too new to be understood yet."

Salem shrugs. "If the Eater consuming Magpie does /not/ have to do with Magpie being the totem of the Last Days, I'll buy a hat just to eat it."

Brings-the-Pack makes an 'mmm' noise in agreement with Salem. "Magpie is definitely some kind of edge piece in this jumbled puzzle."

Felix goes quiet again while the others talk for a few, taking in their surroundings again. "Is Magpie gone =everywhere=, or just 'round here? An' if it's just here, how far out? 'cause maybe magpie spirits farther away'd know somethin'. If that ain't been tried yet, anyhow."

A discussion about magpie spirits follows as everyone fades out because it's quite late in RL.