On the Eve of Battle

[hazlogs]

6/19/2002

Currently the moon is in the waxing Gibbous Moon phase (63% full).

Harbor Park -- The Meadow(#194RJ)

One of the last bastions of green left in the city, mottled and withered
grass and weeds covers the earth like a badly stained carpet, with the
construction work turning what is left into just bare dirt. The vegetation
seems marginally healthier the further it is from the river and much
healthier towards the central area of the park around the fountain.
Construction work is ongoing here: a raised earthen berm about five feet
tall is being built all around the park perimeter, with two breaks each at
the Bridge Street entrance and the First Street end. Wooden posts are being
erected at regular intervals all along the earthen wall, while tasteful iron
gates and fences are being added at the entrances. Overpowering the scent of
living vegetation are the exhaust fumes from a busy street to the west and
an unpleasant stench from the Columbia River to the east. From the street
view or river view, the park is now isolated, as if it existed apart from
the city. People in tall buildings have an excellent view of any goings-ons
for now, though. In the center of the park, a small glade of six tall trees
and a flower bed surrounds the fountain.

The murky waters of the Columbia River flow swiftly along the east side of
the park. Bracketing the park to the west is First Street and the city of
St. Claire.

Reggie rubs his hands together as he considers the news. "Good", he nearly
sounds satisfied. "They'll get what they deserve. Tomorrow, huh? Anything I
can do before then to bolster our side up?"

Seeker looks at Sepdet. "Only those who are named will be claimed by the
Silver River?" He takes a carved wooden dagger from inside his clothes
somewhere and studies it, then returns it.

Sepdet glances towards the fountain. "The spirits of this glade and the
Mountain Bowl will be attacking with us. If you can spare any spirit to feed
them, it would help. They would prefer to fight for their caern themselves
this time, rather than to be bound." To Seeker, she nods. "From what Andrea
said, I believe that's how it works. I have never seen this done."

Seeker nods. "I have a talen which will disrupt a bane if it tries to
materialize. I suppose it will help defend the rite, but it won't do much
good in the shadow." He glances over his shoulder at someone approaching,
but it turns out to be Salem. He nods to the Walker.

Geoffrey generally remains silent and takes it all in. Just the concept of a
river of silver is enough to convince him that someone's gonna be messed up.
His attention pretty much flicks between Sepdet and Reggie, Seeker as well.

Salem stalks through the park, looking to be in no hurry to get to here or
there or any place. He returns the Strider's nod automatically, and his pace
slows.

Sepdet nods to Seeker. "Keep it for the Rite. I do not know for sure which
side of the Gauntlet they plan to perform it. I, too, have a talen that may
or may not be useful." She grimaces. "A talen to make the bearer seem like
one of the enemy to spirits. It may be useful camouflage, but unfortunately,
only for one. And I don't know who is willing to use the enemy's tools
against it."

Reggie blinks slightly at the thought of not having to pound on a spirit to
get it to cooperate, but nods again, hands still rubbinga against each
other.

Seeker sighs. "I only have two days to use it, unfortunately." He nods at
Sepdet, then eyes the cub. "Geoffrey, do you think you are ready for
something like this?"

Geoffrey pauses to himself for a moment, despite having not been doing much
to begin with. He wonders quietly at Sepdet as to wether he'll be involved
in this, but Seeker gets to it before he finishes the phrase. "Damn
straight, I'm all set on being left out of reclaiming the place."

Sepdet raises an eyebrow at his phrasing. Sometimes English still confuses
her.

Reggie's gaze studies Geoffrey. "Chickening out?"

Geoffrey raises an eyebrow at Reggie. "The polar opposite, actually."

Salem finally walks himself into conversational distance, though for the
moment, he doesn't actually contribute anything. He gives Geoffrey a bit of
a dour look.

Seeker glances at Sepdet, then frowns at Geoffrey. "That's not what I asked.
I was considering letting you help defend the caern, but if that is your
attitude, perhaps you should stay. Or would you rather come with us? I feel
you may be ready. I don't promise that you'll be on the front lines, but it
would be good experience for you."

Reggie practices a frown on Geoffrey, then, forced into backtracking the
frown, nods with a dubious air on him. "Ah--right. Your first blood?"

Sepdet gives Salem a tight smile, eyes fixed on Geoffrey--as indeed are
everyone else's, just at the moment.

Geoffrey smiles, just to shatter the tension. "First blood, you could call
it that. Front line or not I'm gonna be there, and I'm gonna get a claw in."

Seeker nods at Geoffrey, considering him a moment. He looks at Sepdet, "What
do you think, should we bring him along?"

Reggie breaks into a sudden grin, and shakes Geoffrey by the shoulder,
"That's the spirit! Speaking of spirits--", he turns to Sepdet, "--There
isn't much time left. If you could go tell them I'm nobody to flee from, I'd
like to gi give them what I can."

Salem doesn't return Sepdet's smile, though his eyebrows lift slightly and
the hardness of his expression lightens just a tad.

Sepdet shakes her head. "I hope we do not have language problems like this
in battle," she growls. To Seeker, she replies, "If he thinks he's ready to
be tested, let him fight as an adult... or die as a Garou. We will neither
protect him nor hold him back."

Sepdet then turns to Reggie. "I think we should all cross," she murmurs.
"One last night... before the fire. I can think of no better place to
prepare ourselves, and our friends."

Seeker nods, then looks back at Geoffrey. "Do you understand what we're
asking of you?"

Geoffrey grins. "Oh loud and clear. We go, we kick around some nasties, we
risk getting wiped off the face of the planet. Sounds like a plan to me."

Reggie looks agreeable to the suggestion, although a shadow of puzzlement
crosses his face as he works out the Theurge's words.

Salem gives Geoffrey another eyeball, briefer this time, his expression
mutedly wry. Then he says to Sepdet, belatedly, "'One last night'? Don't
tempt fate." His voice is utterly deadpan.

Sepdet shakes her head at Salem. "For good or ill, this solstice is one of
great change. Come." She turns, scanning the darkened meadow for unwanted
watchers, then heads to the fountain.

Sepdet makes her way towards the fountain in the center of the large, open meadow.
Sepdet has left.

Seeker arches an eyebrow. "So you're willing to put your life on the line,
as we are, to win back the caern? Think about it, now, don't just spit out a
smartass reply."

Geoffrey shrugs at the general confusion. Perhaps its just his youth showing
through, one way or another the idea has beem passsed. But with the
departing of his elder, he follows.

Geoffrey makes his way towards the fountain in the center of the large, open meadow.
Geoffrey has left.

Reggie makes his way towards the fountain in the center of the large, open meadow.
Reggie has left.

You make your way towards the fountain in the center of the large, open
meadow.

Harbor Park -- Fountain

Seeker enters the glade in the middle of the open meadow.
Seeker has arrived.

Sepdet's eyes stop contemplatively on her reflection.
Sepdet seems to shimmer momentarily, and then vanishes.
Sepdet has left.

Geoffrey's eyes stop contemplatively on his reflection.
Geoffrey seems to shimmer momentarily, and then vanishes.
Geoffrey has left.

Seeker's eyes stop contemplatively on his reflection.
Seeker seems to shimmer momentarily, and then vanishes.
Seeker has left.

You start to reach through the umbra.

Salem's eyes stop contemplatively on his reflection.

A ripple of Umbral wind swirls about you, and the Gauntlet parts.

Salem seems to shimmer momentarily, and then vanishes.

Umbra: Harbor Park

Reggie appears in a swirl of wind and light.
Reggie has arrived.

The moon is gaining ground, but the shadows are still deep, strange, and
restless. Beyond the glade's glow is darkness, unsettling sounds of scraping
metal, scuttling feet in the distance. The chainlink fence is a jagged,
web-encrusted wall.

And yet it dwindles to insignificance beside the pulse of life that makes
the meadow and fountain area fairly glow. It was always a haven here, and
now, with the incursion of spirits from the caern, it's practically a sea of
bright lights, spirits small and large in constant movement, everything from
squirrels to ribbons of living moonlight. They flock and stream towards the
gathering of Garou as they appear one by one.

Salem cracks his knuckles, taking in the gathering of spirits, the contrast
of dark and light. He takes a deep breath of the Umbral atmosphere.

Geoffrey woahs to himself, that is a lot of spirits. He takes to hanging out
by Sepdet's side, as it seems to be the place for him to be.

Seeker lets Geoffrey's response go until after they're done here. He looks
around in wonder at the myriad spirits gathered, although his face remains
stony.

Reggie takes time as he enters the Umbra, part of it enforced by the slow
crossing, part of it voluntary as he drinks in the partially moonlight
scene, filled with spirits.

Sepdet waves to Seeker mutely to continue the... interrogation. She seems to
be more solid here, somehow, more relaxed. A shimmer brings her to her shape
of habit. ~Friends,~ she calls, in a voice modulated to be heard by all,
~Tomorrow, we cast our foes in the silver river. Tomorrow, we strike the
blight and take on those who have dared to drive us from our home. Tomorrow
is a night of fire, rage, and fury. Tonight is a night to gather ourselves,
drink deep, touch earth and remember Gaia is no farther away than our feet.~
She holds out her hands to the nearest flurry of wings, a black and white
flash of chickadees.

A bevy of bright button eyes appear around the fountain's edge. Heaped and
rounded forms of massive old raccoons trundle into view, small hands and
masks and tail-stripes startlingly black against the glimmer of air.

With a birdwatcher's fevor for counting distinct species, Reggie squints
from one end to the other, sorting out most of the spirits, his attention
held longest by those with black and white feathers.

Geoffrey takes more than his allotted few moments to think about his answer
to Seeker. Eventually he works it out. "Yes, I am." All that mulling and a
three-worder is all you can get out of him? What a rip off. His attention is
immediately drawn back to the spirits at hand, as they're a lot more
interesting that battle discussion to him at this point.

Salem simply lets the scene wash over him, hands folded into his coat
pockets and his expression quiet and dead neutral, or at least a reasonable
facsimile thereof. A scuttle of puppy-sized cockroaches, aware of the
Walker's bias, crowd close 'round his ankles and over his boots, but the
half-moon hardly moves.

The gray shape of an owl wings down, angling past Seeker's shoulder. Its
beak clacks close by Geoffrey's ear, a jarring sound, before it swoops up
and floats out on the wind.

Sepdet kneels to let a flash of red nip at her fingers--the fox dashes off
on nimble white feet.

Seeker nods. "All right, then. I expect nothing but your best tomorrow.
We'll have instructions for you tomorrow. Obey your elders, don't go off and
do something foolish." He holds out his arm and an owl-spirit swoops down to
perch on it, its claws digging in. Gnosis, rather than blood, bleeds out to
feed the owl. It takes off again, its wings silent in the night.

Geoffrey flinches at the close call via owl, caught him off guard. He
settles down to a seat taking notice of some of the smaller spirits. All
sorts of forest critters running about, but he keeps an eye on the fox or
two in the area. Apparently they're intriguing.

The black and white wings of a magpie spirit flies towards Reggie's outheld
hand, feeding on gnosis and a shiny trinket, which it holds in its beak as
he flaps away.

One of the raccoons sits up, bold as brass, right by Geoffrey, and starts
trying to dig its way into his pockets.

A voice, improbably, comes from the fountain itself. There's something
shimmering under the water, but what it is one can't easily guess. It speaks
directly to minds, not with words: Each night we strike. Each night we fight
against the creeping darkness, so that poisons don't take hold. We have been
carrying the battle to them for a moon. Are you ready at last, slow solid
ones? Have your plans been laid?

Salem bends down, lowering himself gingerly onto one knee to offer up what
little spirit energy he can afford to the largest of the roaches clustering
around him, a massive insect twice as long as his foot. The others are not
entirely neglected, however; he strokes each carapace with a reverence
normally reserved by the now-dead Howls-While-Dreaming.

Geoffrey just sort of hangs out there, sitting on the umbral ground. He
pretty much lets a couple of the critters that seem to like him do their
spirit thing. He doesn't know how to release gnosis or any of that, but
seems happy to be literally hanging out with spirits.

Salem, rather belatedly, lifts his head, diverting his attention from the
avatars of his adopted tribe to the mental voice coming from the fountain.
His lips thin in ill-controlled irritation.

Aha! Bic lighter. The raccoon thief bears it away triumphantly and starts to
wander off, leaving the larger spirits to discuss the big issues.

Sepdet turns towards the water, squinting. ~We are ready. Be at Jade's lake
by sundown. She who holds the silver river has summoned us there.~ She
glances sidelong at Geoffrey to see how he's handling it, and if he has
anything to say in return. Then her eyes travel to Salem.

"We're ready," says the Glass Walker curtly, choosing to merely affirm the
Strider's words.

Geoffrey quirks an eye.. whatever. He's got another lighter. As odd as it
may seem to him, he nods to the 'talking' fountain. At nearly the same time
he glances to Sepdet to make sure everything is still good.

Reggie shakes his fists violently at the sky. "We will march, and destroy
those that have take that is ours", he declares.

Sepdet gives him no pointers. She's inscrutable that way. At Reggie's words,
the shimmer brightens almost painfully, then dims, as of something diving
far deeper than the fountain's bottom. Strength. Wrath. Courage. Drive them
out. Drive them out. Drive them...drive... drive... drive...drive...dr...

Sepdet leans over to trail her hand in the water, then turns back to the
others with a raw smile, some of the restless energy of the place getting
into her face and her manner.

Salem gives his head a little shake as though trying to dislodge the 'sound'
of the 'other' inside his head. Resting back on his heels, he rubs at his
face and then stands. A paler than normal cockroach clings to his shirt,
feelers waving.

Sepdet settles down, holding still until the prowling owl returns and
alights, digging into her shoulder and fairly dwarfing her. She sways
faintly on its landing. Leaning her cheek against the feathers, she looks
between the pair. ~Any last questions... dreams... gripes?~ she asks softly.
~On such nights as this, the coming thunder makes the silence louder.~

Salem absently strokes the roach that clings, kittenlike, to the front of
his shirt. "Have there been any further revelations regarding the dreams?"

Sepdet exhales. ~Depends on what you last heard. People have started seeing
the caern itself, badly damaged and polluted with their filth. They see some
sort of rite, and Fog struggling and breaking free. I deem it the Rite of
Defilement Andrea warned us about.~

Salem's lips twitch away from his teeth in a reflexive, lupine grimace.
"Which they plan to do on the full, we hope."

Sepdet looks at him warily. ~Andrea's pack thought they would attack the
Rialto and Junkyard on the New Moon,~ she points out. ~We attack now. It
will have to do.~

The cockroach climbs its way up toward the Walker's shoulder, the smooth,
overlarge insect body brushing against his bearded jaw. "I know. I know." He
smiles, a thin, tense twitch that doesn't touch his eyes. "Forgive me. I'm
feeling... pessimistic."

Sepdet tries not to flinch as the owl's claws tighten. ~I know. And for my
part, I feel the taste of death on the wind like a leaf tasting winter in
September. I do not think I will see the summer solstice. But I know we're
going to prevail. This... this is the moment for which all our past battles
were only training. I /see/ the Phoenix, more brightly than ever before.~

"Burned to ash, then born again. Hmnh. I hope so." But Salem's expression,
when he glances toward the east, past the light and into the darkness, is
bleak.

Sepdet reminds him, ~This caern has fallen and been reborn twice already.
Someday, it will be the Caern of the Phoenix. In the final days. If only we
can hold on. I think we can. This sept is like water... disorganized, and if
you hit us, we scatter; but we'll flow back.~

Salem glances back at her, then dips his head. "Of course. I forget, you've
been here since its first rebirth, haven't you?" He exhales a breath, almost
a sigh, then gently plucks the spirit from his shoulder. "You're probably
right. I'm simply... tired."

Sepdet looks up at him, betraying a wan smile. ~Rest then, and muster your
strength. This is the hardest road we've ever had to tread. There's no shame
in fear, doubt, or weariness. Just don't let it stop you from putting one
foot in front of the other.~

Salem sets the cockroach, its legs wriggling, down on the ground. It waves
feelers for a bit, then trundles away as the Walker straightens up.
"Indeed." He lowers his head in a slight bow. "Tomorrow night, then,
Sepdet-rhya."

Sepdet brushes a finger through the owl's feathers. It continues to stare
outward, eyes fixed on the eastern shore. ~Tomorrow,~ she echoes. ~Ash,
ember, egg. I'll see you there.~

Salem touches two fingers to his forehead in a kind of salute. "Be seeing
you," he says, and then turns, stepping back through the Gauntlet toward the
realm, and home.