More Tales of the Garou (part 1)
I started going through my archives...and here's what I found...
NOWHERE 2000 Call to Game
Behold, Garou! I speak to you! Cease your howls and listen. Heed this tale as a prophecy and a warning! Should you fail as a people in this task, many shall suffer for it. Many shall die. Caerns shall fall. Begin to succeed first by listening, and then by acting. That is your only hope of success.
Of the first ones of Gaia, I, Phoenix, am alone, the first and the last. I witnessed the birth of Luna in Gaia, watched her grow, I based in her power and in the cracks of the earth I saw there come Life.
But as I have told before, Weaver grew mad and hunted for Wyld, catching Wyrm in her cocoon though Wyld escaped. In imbalance, Wyrm was corrupted, and in the cracks of the earth I saw there come Death.
Since time began, a great mountain has grown and stood towering over the peaks of what man now calls the Pacific Northwest. This mountain is legendary in modern times and in old. The native peoples of the land tell of how the mountain, a wife to Mount Baker and those around him, left him to move south, but always looks back to her husband and children. It is a tale of long ago and of a long time in the making. For that long has the mountain dominated the thoughts of those who live about it.
For the Uktena, the mountain has different meaning. Long ago did a group of Garou, perhaps native relatives of the Stargazers, live in the area. They contemplated things the Uktena knew were best left alone, spirits that the Uktena had locked away. These native Stargazers heard of a chamber, deep in the mountain, where the ceiling was studded with millions of crystals, and reflected the light as if it were the night sky. Seeking some wisdom in the stars beneath the mountain, the Stargazers sought the chamber.
They found it. When they returned, they did so no longer as servants of Gaia. They did so as servants of the Wyrm. Long did they fight the Uktena, but the Uktena were too many, and defeated the Stargazers. However, so strong was the pack totem of the Stargazers that the Uktena could not destroy it. So, using their powers, they bound it to the chamber under the mountain, and is their custom built a caern on the surface over the chamber. Knowing that this spirit was one of great deception and trickerly, the Uktena realized the binding rite would not last forever. They were right. Each year, on the winter solstice, when Gaia’s power is the weakest, the spirit would try to escape. Each year, it would try some new trick or attack in an effort to break free. Each year, it was defeated.
After a time, the Uktena began to lose their vigilance. They lost heart at having to be tested so sorely each winter solstice. They lost hope and faith in their mission. Then, one year, they failed, and the spirit broke free. Terrible calamities befell the Uktena and their kin, and the native peoples in the surrounding lands. It became as if all was a lie, all was trickery, and nothing was real. A group of Wendigo, knowing the traditions of the sept and how to bind the spirit, lent their strength to the Uktena and rejuvenated their spirits, and together they were able to rebind the spirit. They renamed the Sept, too, as memory of their success. They called it the Sept of the Second Chance.
As time passed, new Garou came to these lands. The tales of this time are many, but I have seen the truth of the conflict between those who resided in the Pure Lands and those they called the Wyrmcomers. But the Garou are not ready for the truth of that tale, so I will not speak of it here. But with the passage of time also comes the completion of cycles, and once again, the Garou of the Sept of the Second Chance lost heart in their mission. Once again, the evil spirit escaped.
Who among you now remember the plauges that swept this land, eliminating entire villages of native peoples? No Garou remember, as none lived at that time, but ask the bear people, and they shall tell you of the terrible sicknesses that swept the land. Ask the descendants of the native peoples how they feel they were deceived by the white men at every turn. Ask the white men how they felt betrayed by a people who would make agreements but then not keep their word. Was all of this just coincidence? It is a spirit of deception, and it has a way of making such things happen. The native peoples suffered from the sickness, and died. Among some tribes and villages, only one in ten survived. Of those that were left, they could do nothing but concede to the wishes of the white settlers.
The spirit rampaged, spreading disease and chaos. Only through great effort did a group of Garou manage to catch it and bind it again, a varied group of Wyrmcomer tribes. They left a record of how it was done, should it need to be done again. These Garou renewed the Sept, but not knowing the language of the native peoples, called it the Sept of the Second Chance. For many years did it stand, guarding against the spirit in the mountain.
But cycles repeat themselves in their own time, and that time is not always the same from one cycle to the next. The Garou in the sept had grown few, and during one year’s contest, all the Elders and higher ranking Garou in the sept fell in battle to the spirit. So, while they succeeded that year in keeping it bound, and thus winning the battle, they had lost the war, for they could not replace their losses fast enough. This was in the year that man calls 1997. The next year, the young Garou, not knowing what should be done, put up a very good fight, but so many had fallen into Harano that the spirit broke part of itself free. That was winter solstice in 1998. Over the next several months, it worked evil in the minds and hearts of the Garou, driving them away, though they knew not why. They closed the caern and hid it against the day others would use it again. The spirit still could not break totally free, as the power of the Caern was key to how it was kept bound, and it prowled the mountain, plotting how best to use its vile powers in this new, modern age. Only one Garou, a Silent Strider, remained to keep watch on that place, a final sentinel to ring the alarm.
Much to the spirit’s frustration, it could not work itself free on the longest night of 1999. The lingering effects of the bindings, although they had not been renewed, were enough to keep the spirit dormant for a little longer. But on a night in early 2000, Luna was eclipsed. The red moon--blood on silver, fulfilled a part of the ritual used to rebind the spirit--to rebind it, it must be partially freed, so that the bonds could be woven anew. But no ritual followed the eclipse, and the spirit found itself free, at last. For three months, the Deception Spirit feasted on the power of the abandoned Second Chance Caern.
Just after the most recent vernal equinox, a group of Garou were called together by dreams. An old spirit, known to the Sept of the Second Chance during their time as the "old man of the mountain" called them together. He realized what the evil spirit was up to. He told the Garou the story of the Sept of the Second chance, through all its incarnations, and asked for their help.
They traveled to Mount Rainier, finding to their dismay that it was almost completely drained of power. They found the written record of the old ritual in an abandoned den. They split up, with half the group trying to prepare the ritual, and the other half going to bring the spirit to bay. They failed. Although they deciphered the ritual, the evil spirit was too powerful for them. It tricked the Garou who followed it and the Garou who remained to prepare the ritual into attacking each other. Each group thought the other group were Dancers of the Black Spiral.
It was then that I, Phoenix, decided it was time to take direct action. I appeared to them and bade them to stop their bloodshed. As the light of truth burned into their awful wounds, I declared I would call a Silver Pack of the young to fight the creature. But I also sensed the final trap of the evil spirit, and gave them last warning before the avalanche on the glacier where they fought came tumbling down. I held it back for a short time, allowing them to seek some shelter. None died, but many were badly hurt.
Thus the alarm is raised. The old man has told the tale of the fall of the Sept of the Second Chance. The Silent Strider has given warning that the evil spirit is stirring. Some brave Garou have found the old documents on how to bind the spirit, and have felt the trickery of the thing. But a Silver Pack is needed to deal the final blow and bind the spirit to his prison once more.
So, Garou of the Pacific Northwest, and Garou of the Nation, I call for a Silver Pack to be formed in order to fight this spirit. If left unchecked, it will unleash a torrent of destruction greater than the plagues and wars that swept through the land only seven generations ago. Already some septs have felt the power of the thing.
Sept of the Sacred Rose, where is your caern totem? Who was the scarred man? Do you think that this is something that is unique to you? The evil spirit of the mountain is behind this. Do you think your caern will ever be safe again unless you deal with this thing?
Sept of the Crystal Lotus, do you think your war is unrelated to the spirit? It is not so. The creatures you face are emboldened by the actions of the evil spirit, for they do not have to guard their rear. They have to face only one direction: yours. Do you think your enemies will grow weaker if you do not deal with this thing?
Other septs in the region, do you think that you will be safe for much longer after Sacred Rose and Crystal Lotus are gone? Would you rather stop the desolation of war in a place far from hearth and home, or would you rather fight the Wyrm on your doorstep?
This is a fight for all in the Nation. A fight for warriors, talespinners, balancers, mystics and tricksters. You need every tooth, every claw, the better to cause wounds with. You need every voice, every instrument, the better to inspire and lead. You need every thought and every plan, the better to succeed. You need every spirit and every rite, the better to bind and protect. You need every question and every reminder, that you are no greater than the weakest among you.
I call for a Silver Pack. The evil spirit draws its strength from the strength of those it fights, so let it be known that this Silver Pack should be made up not from the Elders and Athros, but from the Adren, Fostern, and Cliath. Let this be a time when the young lead and the old follow, when youth and innovation blaze the trail for wisdom and experience. I call for the Elders and Athros to assemble and, under my guidance, test the young to see who is worthy of bearing my mark, the mark of Phoenix, the mark of the Silver Pack.
I call for this meeting to take place , at . Let them all come, the Garou you know and the Garou you do not, Garou known here and ones not yet known. To do nothing is to lose. To do something is to have a chance to win.
When the Silver Pack is chosen, then shall I make known my mission to them, and to the rest of the Garou who would band together to put the spirit back into the mountain. Go forth and spread the word to your brothers and sisters! Do not forget the other changing folk, who can lend you wisdom and knowledge that you do not have! While you are the Garou Nation, and you are Gaia’s chosen warriors, Gaia in her wisdom knew she needed more than warriors to defend her. You have need of scouts and healers, watchers and listeners. Let them all come to bind the spirit again, lest all suffer the ultimate price. The Blood Red Moon was an omen and a warning! Heed it!
Of the first ones of Gaia, I, Phoenix, am alone, the first and the last. These are the last times when the Wyrm shall rise, and its coils shall sheathe the world, and Garou will fight Garou, when the humans hunt us in strange Weaver-creatures, when death follows us like a hungry bear. We will know the last times. The People will shrink in number. There will not be enough to care properly for the caerns. The lost cubs will die or be taken by the Wyrm, and many visions will be fulfilled. Guard these signs well. Mark the last times. They are coming. They are coming.
Of the first ones of Gaia, I, Phoenix, am alone, the first and last. I have spoken.
The Tears We Weep, by Anubis Doomspeaker
My hurts fresh on me
I stagger home to the hearth
You are there for me
Your hand will soothe me
Your smile will banish darkness
Your strength revives me
Sister and brother
Husband, wife, friend or lover
We are all as one
Our pack runs at night
Under smiling Luna's face
Her light makes you glow
Your scent is of home
Your howl is music to me
We will mate for life
Sister and brother
Alpha male, Alpha female
We are all as one
You are born to us
We fear you may never change
Your life will be hard
You are born to us
We fear on the day you change
Your life will be hard
Sister and brother
Daughter, son, nephew or niece
We are all as one
We are born to you
We must learn what you will teach
And must watch you leave
We see your eyes fear
But we fear not having you
Our lives will be hard
Sister and brother
Mother, father, and parents
We are all as one
You did not ask it
You were born in pain and blood
Evidence of shame
You take scorn from all
But your heart still remains true
You fight for Gaia
Sister and brother
Even those born to Garou
We are all as one
And you betrayed us
Dancing the black spiral path
You gave up yourself
You I find, I kill
But I hope you are reborn
Clean through the cycle
Sister and brother
Our family we cleanse them
We are all as one
I miss home and hearth
Your hair, your scent, and your touch
And you miss me too
War for Gaia goes on
I will likely die alone
Far away from you
Sister and brother
The fears we share are the same
We are all as one
We are soon apart
The survivors are alone
Graves give no comfort
No touch and no kiss
No scent no chase in the night
Too soon death takes all
Sister and brother
The tears we weep are the same
We are all as one
A Tale of Khem, by Anubis Doomspeaker
A cub who would be a great talespinner someday has asked for a tale of the Land of Khem. I promised I would tell him one, and here now it is.
Hearken now unto my words and howls, my cries and growls. I will tell you a story of the fall of an empire, the death of gods, and a curse that endures millennia. It is the story of the beginning of a journey marked by years of sorrow and miles of tears. It does not tell the story of the end of that journey, for that end is not yet written.
Some of you know me. Others do not. I am the Doomspeaker, he who once smelled of death from the paths he treads and is called the Wind of Death, he who comes to tell prophecy and reveal portents. I am he who once was called Mourns for Gaia, who left an eye in the Duat, the land of the dead, to a creature that threatened the Restless so they might live on in Death. I am the father of three-who-changed, but only one-who-yet-lives, yet others who were not mine now call me father. I am of the people of the wheel and wagon, who wander the earth following their hearts. I was born under the waning gibbous face of Luna, a talespinner in the tradition of the ancient land of Khem, accursed to never walk in the footsteps of his ancestors. I am accounted an Elder, born of woman, black of coat, lean of body, long of muzzle, tall of ear, fleet of paw, tail whipping behind me as I run quietly through the worlds beyond the Gauntlet.
It was in the time when all tribes were yet new and did not mingle overly much upon the Earth. The three had already gone to their Pure Land and the rest had their territories well marked and protected among the flocks of man. One of those tribes lived in a place called Khem.
Khem was both garden and wasteland, with lush farms that sat by the riverside, but harsh deserts and inhospitable mountains that surrounded the river valley on three sides, glowing redly at sunrise and sunset. Always was the land a study in contrasts…water and dust; sun and moon; life and death; green and red; snake and wolf.
Yes…snake and wolf. Therein lies the heart of this tale. It was during a time of struggle in the land of Khem when my ancestors found themselves between two great powers. One was Osiris, who rules over the Green Kingdom. The other was Set (may Gaia curse his name), who rules of the Red Kingdom of the wilderness, cast out by Osiris for trying to take Osiris’ throne. They were brothers, born of the same mother, and the Flock accorded them gods. But we knew they were Leeches…vampires, ancient even then in that ancient time and very powerful. They were also very different, opposites in many ways. Osiris resisted many of the worst parts his nature urged upon him, while Set reveled in them. Green and Red. Life and Death. Osiris and Set.
But where does the wolf come in, you ask? I shall tell you. The Garou of the Land of Khem did not care for either of the kings. They were vampires, and thus our enemy. But Set was the worst of the two. So it was that we decided to not take part in the war and to stand aside. Of course, we weren’t completely neutral. We slew Set’s followers whenever they reared their scaly heads in our presence, and we also sometimes found it needful to kill some of Osiris’ children, but we did not commit ourselves to the fight. There was no need…yet. We should wait until one side triumphed and the victor was so exhausted that he would fall easily before our teeth and claws. It was a good plan.
The war raged on for some time…thousands of years, or s they say. Then, by a treachery we have caught only hints of, Set gained advantage over Osiris. Some say that he tricked Osiris himself, while other say he tricked those around Osiris. No matter, for the result was the same. Set trapped Osiris in a sarcophagus and threw his brother -rival into the Nile. Set claimed the throne of Osiris and also tried to claim Osiris’ sister-wife, Isis, perhaps not being satisfied with his own sister-wife, Nephthys. But Isis fled from Set, taking her son Horus and her sister Nephthys with her into hiding. Some say that she hid among the Bastet and Mokole, who joined with the Garou in hating Set.
Isis was not simply a queen; she was also a magician. Using her power, she found the sarcophagus and opened it. Osiris was inside. He was shriveled and in pain, but alive. Isis set to work restoring him, but before she could complete her spell, Set arrived, having felt his brother’s return from death’s doorstep. Set tore Osiris limb from limb, scattering him across Khem. He took Isis, Horus and Nephthys prisoner.
Few are sure exactly what happened to Isis, Nephthys and Horus while they were captives of Set, but all know that it was not good. In time, those loyal to Osiris freed them and spirited them away to a safe place with a farmer. Set had done something that removed the Ba from Horus, and it was only the magic of Isis that kept Horus from the Duat.
We wolves still restrained our claws. The portents and omens said that the battle between Osiris and Set was not yet complete. We decided to give these two powers more time to tear each other to shreds.
Using her magic and calling upon the spirits, Isis gathered together the scattered pieces of her husband’s body, and through even greater magic, called her husband back from the Duat, the land of the dead. There stood again Osiris, godlike in his power. Some say that in the Duat he met my namesake, a boatman named Anubis, who gave him the wisdom and secrets of the dead. I have spoken with the dead about this, but I a forbidden to speak of what I know of that time.
Whatever Osiris learned from Anubis, he now had the power to raise his son Horus. But for Horus to live again, he must first die, just as the cycle calls for. Thus it was that Osiris caused his own son to die and raised him again to life…life eternal. We of my tribe hear rumors of Horus, that he may yet live, but that is another tale for another time, as is the tale of those who can not die.
It was when Osiris and his followers were exhausted from the raising of Horus that Set struck. His mighty forces would have taxed their opponents even if all were fresh and ready, but now, with Osiris, Isis, Nephthys and Horus drained from their struggle, Set’s victory seemed inevitable.
Set slew Nephthys first, but Osiris himself grappled with his brother. But Set called upon foul fire to burn Osiris unto the Duat and then turned to strike at Isis. But lo! Horus himself rose to fight, Horus who died but was born again, ripping into Set’s body with a blade over and over. Horus took back the power Set had stolen from him and then began to fade himself, once more going through the cycle, as he must, the price of eternal life. Set began to heal, and Isis and Osiris’ children and allies fled.
It was to us that Isis fled with the body of her son, in the deserts where we waited for our day to come. We knew that when she fled to us it was time for us to strike. Set was weak and many of his followers had fled. Though Horus lived among us and tried to give us counsel, we spurned it, feeling the time for waiting was over.
Great were our leaders and mighty were the elders of our tribe! Greatest among those was Shu-Horus, a legend among warriors, of whom even the Silver Fangs of far off Rus had heard tales. Shu-Horus led us into them and we slew Set’s followers by the score!
And that was the problem…there were scores of them. We killed until the banks of the green Nile turned red like the desert at sunrise. We killed until the Nile itself was choked and attracted all the flies of the desert. We killed until the frogs leapt out of the water in disgust. We killed until the snakes themselves (the real ones, not Set’s brood) could not stand the smell and sought shelter in the homes of men.
And while we were killing, Set was watching, listening and learning. He learned the true names of our leaders. He learned the true names of the elders. He learned the true name o Shu-Horus himself. With these names and the power he had, he found a way to defeat us.
Thus it was that even as Shu-Horus and his pack fought their way into the heart of Set’s own sanctuary and temple, grappling with the King of Snakes himself, Set leaped aside from the conflict. Then h spoke the true names of our leaders, the name of Shu-Horus himself, and froze them while he cursed thus:
“By the names I have spoken, O Lupines, I curse you. I place my mark upon you, that you shall be forever severed from thy dead fathers and mothers. I damn you with my touch, that never again shall you rest in the lands of thy people. May the names of your ancestors be forgotten, and may their ghosts fade from hunger in the Duat. As I was cast out, so then shall you be exiled, voiceless and lost forever more.”
Thus it was the sands of Khem began to burn under the footsteps of our tribe, and we barely had time to grab a few of our possessions and flee the lands. We were exiled, accursed to never return to our home.
The story does not end here. Like all stories, the end of this one is the beginning of another. Shu-Horus led our people into exile, and many lived during our exodus that would have died but for him. But that is a tale also for another time.
We wandered, never able to call any other place home. In our wanderings, we have found many trails others have forgotten. We became messengers, connecting the Septs and warning of things seen on the far horizons, unable to call any one place home for very long.
But I say this to those of my tribe, to the others of the Garou Nation, and to Gaia herself: we will return to the Land of Khem. Someday we will break the curse of Set. Someday we will once again have the spirit of Shu-Horus to guide us. Someday we will again tread the sands and lush river valley of the Land of Khem, now called Egypt. Someday again will our howls drift across the desert up to Luna, shining down upon us, blessing us with her light.
I continue to bend my life to this task. We continue the struggle. Someday, I hope to be the one who lays a curse upon Set, making the sands beneath his feet as flame to him, making the face of Ra appear above, burning Set as kindling. Then will I speak his true name, gaining power over him and severing him from his undead followers, breaking his hold on the Land of Khem.
I will be there. Even if it is not Anubis Doomspeaker Wind of Death who utters the curse, I will be there, when the spirits of our tribe are released and throw the spirit of Set into the darkest pits of oblivion.
All Silent Striders will be there on that day.
NOWHERE 2000 Call to Game
Behold, Garou! I speak to you! Cease your howls and listen. Heed this tale as a prophecy and a warning! Should you fail as a people in this task, many shall suffer for it. Many shall die. Caerns shall fall. Begin to succeed first by listening, and then by acting. That is your only hope of success.
Of the first ones of Gaia, I, Phoenix, am alone, the first and the last. I witnessed the birth of Luna in Gaia, watched her grow, I based in her power and in the cracks of the earth I saw there come Life.
But as I have told before, Weaver grew mad and hunted for Wyld, catching Wyrm in her cocoon though Wyld escaped. In imbalance, Wyrm was corrupted, and in the cracks of the earth I saw there come Death.
Since time began, a great mountain has grown and stood towering over the peaks of what man now calls the Pacific Northwest. This mountain is legendary in modern times and in old. The native peoples of the land tell of how the mountain, a wife to Mount Baker and those around him, left him to move south, but always looks back to her husband and children. It is a tale of long ago and of a long time in the making. For that long has the mountain dominated the thoughts of those who live about it.
For the Uktena, the mountain has different meaning. Long ago did a group of Garou, perhaps native relatives of the Stargazers, live in the area. They contemplated things the Uktena knew were best left alone, spirits that the Uktena had locked away. These native Stargazers heard of a chamber, deep in the mountain, where the ceiling was studded with millions of crystals, and reflected the light as if it were the night sky. Seeking some wisdom in the stars beneath the mountain, the Stargazers sought the chamber.
They found it. When they returned, they did so no longer as servants of Gaia. They did so as servants of the Wyrm. Long did they fight the Uktena, but the Uktena were too many, and defeated the Stargazers. However, so strong was the pack totem of the Stargazers that the Uktena could not destroy it. So, using their powers, they bound it to the chamber under the mountain, and is their custom built a caern on the surface over the chamber. Knowing that this spirit was one of great deception and trickerly, the Uktena realized the binding rite would not last forever. They were right. Each year, on the winter solstice, when Gaia’s power is the weakest, the spirit would try to escape. Each year, it would try some new trick or attack in an effort to break free. Each year, it was defeated.
After a time, the Uktena began to lose their vigilance. They lost heart at having to be tested so sorely each winter solstice. They lost hope and faith in their mission. Then, one year, they failed, and the spirit broke free. Terrible calamities befell the Uktena and their kin, and the native peoples in the surrounding lands. It became as if all was a lie, all was trickery, and nothing was real. A group of Wendigo, knowing the traditions of the sept and how to bind the spirit, lent their strength to the Uktena and rejuvenated their spirits, and together they were able to rebind the spirit. They renamed the Sept, too, as memory of their success. They called it the Sept of the Second Chance.
As time passed, new Garou came to these lands. The tales of this time are many, but I have seen the truth of the conflict between those who resided in the Pure Lands and those they called the Wyrmcomers. But the Garou are not ready for the truth of that tale, so I will not speak of it here. But with the passage of time also comes the completion of cycles, and once again, the Garou of the Sept of the Second Chance lost heart in their mission. Once again, the evil spirit escaped.
Who among you now remember the plauges that swept this land, eliminating entire villages of native peoples? No Garou remember, as none lived at that time, but ask the bear people, and they shall tell you of the terrible sicknesses that swept the land. Ask the descendants of the native peoples how they feel they were deceived by the white men at every turn. Ask the white men how they felt betrayed by a people who would make agreements but then not keep their word. Was all of this just coincidence? It is a spirit of deception, and it has a way of making such things happen. The native peoples suffered from the sickness, and died. Among some tribes and villages, only one in ten survived. Of those that were left, they could do nothing but concede to the wishes of the white settlers.
The spirit rampaged, spreading disease and chaos. Only through great effort did a group of Garou manage to catch it and bind it again, a varied group of Wyrmcomer tribes. They left a record of how it was done, should it need to be done again. These Garou renewed the Sept, but not knowing the language of the native peoples, called it the Sept of the Second Chance. For many years did it stand, guarding against the spirit in the mountain.
But cycles repeat themselves in their own time, and that time is not always the same from one cycle to the next. The Garou in the sept had grown few, and during one year’s contest, all the Elders and higher ranking Garou in the sept fell in battle to the spirit. So, while they succeeded that year in keeping it bound, and thus winning the battle, they had lost the war, for they could not replace their losses fast enough. This was in the year that man calls 1997. The next year, the young Garou, not knowing what should be done, put up a very good fight, but so many had fallen into Harano that the spirit broke part of itself free. That was winter solstice in 1998. Over the next several months, it worked evil in the minds and hearts of the Garou, driving them away, though they knew not why. They closed the caern and hid it against the day others would use it again. The spirit still could not break totally free, as the power of the Caern was key to how it was kept bound, and it prowled the mountain, plotting how best to use its vile powers in this new, modern age. Only one Garou, a Silent Strider, remained to keep watch on that place, a final sentinel to ring the alarm.
Much to the spirit’s frustration, it could not work itself free on the longest night of 1999. The lingering effects of the bindings, although they had not been renewed, were enough to keep the spirit dormant for a little longer. But on a night in early 2000, Luna was eclipsed. The red moon--blood on silver, fulfilled a part of the ritual used to rebind the spirit--to rebind it, it must be partially freed, so that the bonds could be woven anew. But no ritual followed the eclipse, and the spirit found itself free, at last. For three months, the Deception Spirit feasted on the power of the abandoned Second Chance Caern.
Just after the most recent vernal equinox, a group of Garou were called together by dreams. An old spirit, known to the Sept of the Second Chance during their time as the "old man of the mountain" called them together. He realized what the evil spirit was up to. He told the Garou the story of the Sept of the Second chance, through all its incarnations, and asked for their help.
They traveled to Mount Rainier, finding to their dismay that it was almost completely drained of power. They found the written record of the old ritual in an abandoned den. They split up, with half the group trying to prepare the ritual, and the other half going to bring the spirit to bay. They failed. Although they deciphered the ritual, the evil spirit was too powerful for them. It tricked the Garou who followed it and the Garou who remained to prepare the ritual into attacking each other. Each group thought the other group were Dancers of the Black Spiral.
It was then that I, Phoenix, decided it was time to take direct action. I appeared to them and bade them to stop their bloodshed. As the light of truth burned into their awful wounds, I declared I would call a Silver Pack of the young to fight the creature. But I also sensed the final trap of the evil spirit, and gave them last warning before the avalanche on the glacier where they fought came tumbling down. I held it back for a short time, allowing them to seek some shelter. None died, but many were badly hurt.
Thus the alarm is raised. The old man has told the tale of the fall of the Sept of the Second Chance. The Silent Strider has given warning that the evil spirit is stirring. Some brave Garou have found the old documents on how to bind the spirit, and have felt the trickery of the thing. But a Silver Pack is needed to deal the final blow and bind the spirit to his prison once more.
So, Garou of the Pacific Northwest, and Garou of the Nation, I call for a Silver Pack to be formed in order to fight this spirit. If left unchecked, it will unleash a torrent of destruction greater than the plagues and wars that swept through the land only seven generations ago. Already some septs have felt the power of the thing.
Sept of the Sacred Rose, where is your caern totem? Who was the scarred man? Do you think that this is something that is unique to you? The evil spirit of the mountain is behind this. Do you think your caern will ever be safe again unless you deal with this thing?
Sept of the Crystal Lotus, do you think your war is unrelated to the spirit? It is not so. The creatures you face are emboldened by the actions of the evil spirit, for they do not have to guard their rear. They have to face only one direction: yours. Do you think your enemies will grow weaker if you do not deal with this thing?
Other septs in the region, do you think that you will be safe for much longer after Sacred Rose and Crystal Lotus are gone? Would you rather stop the desolation of war in a place far from hearth and home, or would you rather fight the Wyrm on your doorstep?
This is a fight for all in the Nation. A fight for warriors, talespinners, balancers, mystics and tricksters. You need every tooth, every claw, the better to cause wounds with. You need every voice, every instrument, the better to inspire and lead. You need every thought and every plan, the better to succeed. You need every spirit and every rite, the better to bind and protect. You need every question and every reminder, that you are no greater than the weakest among you.
I call for a Silver Pack. The evil spirit draws its strength from the strength of those it fights, so let it be known that this Silver Pack should be made up not from the Elders and Athros, but from the Adren, Fostern, and Cliath. Let this be a time when the young lead and the old follow, when youth and innovation blaze the trail for wisdom and experience. I call for the Elders and Athros to assemble and, under my guidance, test the young to see who is worthy of bearing my mark, the mark of Phoenix, the mark of the Silver Pack.
I call for this meeting to take place , at . Let them all come, the Garou you know and the Garou you do not, Garou known here and ones not yet known. To do nothing is to lose. To do something is to have a chance to win.
When the Silver Pack is chosen, then shall I make known my mission to them, and to the rest of the Garou who would band together to put the spirit back into the mountain. Go forth and spread the word to your brothers and sisters! Do not forget the other changing folk, who can lend you wisdom and knowledge that you do not have! While you are the Garou Nation, and you are Gaia’s chosen warriors, Gaia in her wisdom knew she needed more than warriors to defend her. You have need of scouts and healers, watchers and listeners. Let them all come to bind the spirit again, lest all suffer the ultimate price. The Blood Red Moon was an omen and a warning! Heed it!
Of the first ones of Gaia, I, Phoenix, am alone, the first and the last. These are the last times when the Wyrm shall rise, and its coils shall sheathe the world, and Garou will fight Garou, when the humans hunt us in strange Weaver-creatures, when death follows us like a hungry bear. We will know the last times. The People will shrink in number. There will not be enough to care properly for the caerns. The lost cubs will die or be taken by the Wyrm, and many visions will be fulfilled. Guard these signs well. Mark the last times. They are coming. They are coming.
Of the first ones of Gaia, I, Phoenix, am alone, the first and last. I have spoken.
The Tears We Weep, by Anubis Doomspeaker
My hurts fresh on me
I stagger home to the hearth
You are there for me
Your hand will soothe me
Your smile will banish darkness
Your strength revives me
Sister and brother
Husband, wife, friend or lover
We are all as one
Our pack runs at night
Under smiling Luna's face
Her light makes you glow
Your scent is of home
Your howl is music to me
We will mate for life
Sister and brother
Alpha male, Alpha female
We are all as one
You are born to us
We fear you may never change
Your life will be hard
You are born to us
We fear on the day you change
Your life will be hard
Sister and brother
Daughter, son, nephew or niece
We are all as one
We are born to you
We must learn what you will teach
And must watch you leave
We see your eyes fear
But we fear not having you
Our lives will be hard
Sister and brother
Mother, father, and parents
We are all as one
You did not ask it
You were born in pain and blood
Evidence of shame
You take scorn from all
But your heart still remains true
You fight for Gaia
Sister and brother
Even those born to Garou
We are all as one
And you betrayed us
Dancing the black spiral path
You gave up yourself
You I find, I kill
But I hope you are reborn
Clean through the cycle
Sister and brother
Our family we cleanse them
We are all as one
I miss home and hearth
Your hair, your scent, and your touch
And you miss me too
War for Gaia goes on
I will likely die alone
Far away from you
Sister and brother
The fears we share are the same
We are all as one
We are soon apart
The survivors are alone
Graves give no comfort
No touch and no kiss
No scent no chase in the night
Too soon death takes all
Sister and brother
The tears we weep are the same
We are all as one
A Tale of Khem, by Anubis Doomspeaker
A cub who would be a great talespinner someday has asked for a tale of the Land of Khem. I promised I would tell him one, and here now it is.
Hearken now unto my words and howls, my cries and growls. I will tell you a story of the fall of an empire, the death of gods, and a curse that endures millennia. It is the story of the beginning of a journey marked by years of sorrow and miles of tears. It does not tell the story of the end of that journey, for that end is not yet written.
Some of you know me. Others do not. I am the Doomspeaker, he who once smelled of death from the paths he treads and is called the Wind of Death, he who comes to tell prophecy and reveal portents. I am he who once was called Mourns for Gaia, who left an eye in the Duat, the land of the dead, to a creature that threatened the Restless so they might live on in Death. I am the father of three-who-changed, but only one-who-yet-lives, yet others who were not mine now call me father. I am of the people of the wheel and wagon, who wander the earth following their hearts. I was born under the waning gibbous face of Luna, a talespinner in the tradition of the ancient land of Khem, accursed to never walk in the footsteps of his ancestors. I am accounted an Elder, born of woman, black of coat, lean of body, long of muzzle, tall of ear, fleet of paw, tail whipping behind me as I run quietly through the worlds beyond the Gauntlet.
It was in the time when all tribes were yet new and did not mingle overly much upon the Earth. The three had already gone to their Pure Land and the rest had their territories well marked and protected among the flocks of man. One of those tribes lived in a place called Khem.
Khem was both garden and wasteland, with lush farms that sat by the riverside, but harsh deserts and inhospitable mountains that surrounded the river valley on three sides, glowing redly at sunrise and sunset. Always was the land a study in contrasts…water and dust; sun and moon; life and death; green and red; snake and wolf.
Yes…snake and wolf. Therein lies the heart of this tale. It was during a time of struggle in the land of Khem when my ancestors found themselves between two great powers. One was Osiris, who rules over the Green Kingdom. The other was Set (may Gaia curse his name), who rules of the Red Kingdom of the wilderness, cast out by Osiris for trying to take Osiris’ throne. They were brothers, born of the same mother, and the Flock accorded them gods. But we knew they were Leeches…vampires, ancient even then in that ancient time and very powerful. They were also very different, opposites in many ways. Osiris resisted many of the worst parts his nature urged upon him, while Set reveled in them. Green and Red. Life and Death. Osiris and Set.
But where does the wolf come in, you ask? I shall tell you. The Garou of the Land of Khem did not care for either of the kings. They were vampires, and thus our enemy. But Set was the worst of the two. So it was that we decided to not take part in the war and to stand aside. Of course, we weren’t completely neutral. We slew Set’s followers whenever they reared their scaly heads in our presence, and we also sometimes found it needful to kill some of Osiris’ children, but we did not commit ourselves to the fight. There was no need…yet. We should wait until one side triumphed and the victor was so exhausted that he would fall easily before our teeth and claws. It was a good plan.
The war raged on for some time…thousands of years, or s they say. Then, by a treachery we have caught only hints of, Set gained advantage over Osiris. Some say that he tricked Osiris himself, while other say he tricked those around Osiris. No matter, for the result was the same. Set trapped Osiris in a sarcophagus and threw his brother -rival into the Nile. Set claimed the throne of Osiris and also tried to claim Osiris’ sister-wife, Isis, perhaps not being satisfied with his own sister-wife, Nephthys. But Isis fled from Set, taking her son Horus and her sister Nephthys with her into hiding. Some say that she hid among the Bastet and Mokole, who joined with the Garou in hating Set.
Isis was not simply a queen; she was also a magician. Using her power, she found the sarcophagus and opened it. Osiris was inside. He was shriveled and in pain, but alive. Isis set to work restoring him, but before she could complete her spell, Set arrived, having felt his brother’s return from death’s doorstep. Set tore Osiris limb from limb, scattering him across Khem. He took Isis, Horus and Nephthys prisoner.
Few are sure exactly what happened to Isis, Nephthys and Horus while they were captives of Set, but all know that it was not good. In time, those loyal to Osiris freed them and spirited them away to a safe place with a farmer. Set had done something that removed the Ba from Horus, and it was only the magic of Isis that kept Horus from the Duat.
We wolves still restrained our claws. The portents and omens said that the battle between Osiris and Set was not yet complete. We decided to give these two powers more time to tear each other to shreds.
Using her magic and calling upon the spirits, Isis gathered together the scattered pieces of her husband’s body, and through even greater magic, called her husband back from the Duat, the land of the dead. There stood again Osiris, godlike in his power. Some say that in the Duat he met my namesake, a boatman named Anubis, who gave him the wisdom and secrets of the dead. I have spoken with the dead about this, but I a forbidden to speak of what I know of that time.
Whatever Osiris learned from Anubis, he now had the power to raise his son Horus. But for Horus to live again, he must first die, just as the cycle calls for. Thus it was that Osiris caused his own son to die and raised him again to life…life eternal. We of my tribe hear rumors of Horus, that he may yet live, but that is another tale for another time, as is the tale of those who can not die.
It was when Osiris and his followers were exhausted from the raising of Horus that Set struck. His mighty forces would have taxed their opponents even if all were fresh and ready, but now, with Osiris, Isis, Nephthys and Horus drained from their struggle, Set’s victory seemed inevitable.
Set slew Nephthys first, but Osiris himself grappled with his brother. But Set called upon foul fire to burn Osiris unto the Duat and then turned to strike at Isis. But lo! Horus himself rose to fight, Horus who died but was born again, ripping into Set’s body with a blade over and over. Horus took back the power Set had stolen from him and then began to fade himself, once more going through the cycle, as he must, the price of eternal life. Set began to heal, and Isis and Osiris’ children and allies fled.
It was to us that Isis fled with the body of her son, in the deserts where we waited for our day to come. We knew that when she fled to us it was time for us to strike. Set was weak and many of his followers had fled. Though Horus lived among us and tried to give us counsel, we spurned it, feeling the time for waiting was over.
Great were our leaders and mighty were the elders of our tribe! Greatest among those was Shu-Horus, a legend among warriors, of whom even the Silver Fangs of far off Rus had heard tales. Shu-Horus led us into them and we slew Set’s followers by the score!
And that was the problem…there were scores of them. We killed until the banks of the green Nile turned red like the desert at sunrise. We killed until the Nile itself was choked and attracted all the flies of the desert. We killed until the frogs leapt out of the water in disgust. We killed until the snakes themselves (the real ones, not Set’s brood) could not stand the smell and sought shelter in the homes of men.
And while we were killing, Set was watching, listening and learning. He learned the true names of our leaders. He learned the true names of the elders. He learned the true name o Shu-Horus himself. With these names and the power he had, he found a way to defeat us.
Thus it was that even as Shu-Horus and his pack fought their way into the heart of Set’s own sanctuary and temple, grappling with the King of Snakes himself, Set leaped aside from the conflict. Then h spoke the true names of our leaders, the name of Shu-Horus himself, and froze them while he cursed thus:
“By the names I have spoken, O Lupines, I curse you. I place my mark upon you, that you shall be forever severed from thy dead fathers and mothers. I damn you with my touch, that never again shall you rest in the lands of thy people. May the names of your ancestors be forgotten, and may their ghosts fade from hunger in the Duat. As I was cast out, so then shall you be exiled, voiceless and lost forever more.”
Thus it was the sands of Khem began to burn under the footsteps of our tribe, and we barely had time to grab a few of our possessions and flee the lands. We were exiled, accursed to never return to our home.
The story does not end here. Like all stories, the end of this one is the beginning of another. Shu-Horus led our people into exile, and many lived during our exodus that would have died but for him. But that is a tale also for another time.
We wandered, never able to call any other place home. In our wanderings, we have found many trails others have forgotten. We became messengers, connecting the Septs and warning of things seen on the far horizons, unable to call any one place home for very long.
But I say this to those of my tribe, to the others of the Garou Nation, and to Gaia herself: we will return to the Land of Khem. Someday we will break the curse of Set. Someday we will once again have the spirit of Shu-Horus to guide us. Someday we will again tread the sands and lush river valley of the Land of Khem, now called Egypt. Someday again will our howls drift across the desert up to Luna, shining down upon us, blessing us with her light.
I continue to bend my life to this task. We continue the struggle. Someday, I hope to be the one who lays a curse upon Set, making the sands beneath his feet as flame to him, making the face of Ra appear above, burning Set as kindling. Then will I speak his true name, gaining power over him and severing him from his undead followers, breaking his hold on the Land of Khem.
I will be there. Even if it is not Anubis Doomspeaker Wind of Death who utters the curse, I will be there, when the spirits of our tribe are released and throw the spirit of Set into the darkest pits of oblivion.
All Silent Striders will be there on that day.