l me
Sepdet
This tiny slip of a Strider is coming to terms with her injuries. Her lithe
brown figure has regained much of its former grace, although a stumble here
or a spasm there sometimes betrays her. She holds herself close and silent
in crowds, less confident than she used to be, except when the wonder of
her new home briefly lifts the shadows from her.
Her face is no longer quite a child's, but grown wilder with age:
African features slightly distorted by a thrust-forward lower jaw which,
however, has a deer's delicacy; full lips; angular cheekbones; and slightly
weathered mahogany skin dusted all over with a fine black down of fur.
Massive fresh scars cover most of her abdomen and the back of her shoulders
and neck; there is also an Eye branded over her heart, mostly hidden by her
garments.
She wears a ripped army green tank top, a baggy old photographer's vest
with pockets stuffed and smelling of herbs, and black stretchpants that
reach just below the knee to leave bare lean calves and brown calloused
feet. Her hair is plaited in neat cornrows with a stout black braid coiled
behind one pointed ear. The gifts of friends living and dead cluster on a
leather cord around her neck: a carved wooden fish, ankh, cartouche, and a
small beaded medicine wheel.

Currently on this gusty and cold fall evening in the general St. Claire
area, it is 44 degrees Fahrenheit (6.7 degrees Celsius). The wind is coming
from the west-northwest at 12.3 mph. The ground is wet. Skies are hazy with
a probable chance of precipitation.

Umbra: Center of the Caern
The expanse of grass up and down the valley becomes much thicker here, a
circular plush carpet of deep green fibers. Lunes dance wildly in the air,
especially around the perimeter of the circle, and water sprites leap from
the cliff's edge to the southeast down to the valley floor, giggling the
whole way. An omnipresent light mist fills the umbral caern, not fully
obscuring vision but blurring more distant objects. In the center of the
circle is a large white boulder, with crystals on it glimmering with
reflected light of the lunes. Etched into the boulder is the wandering
glyph of the Wyld.
The air here is charged, and seems to tingle. Even the least perceptive can
feel the presence of this place, sense the strength here. Power
reverberates through the Earth's shell like the sound of distant thunder,
rumbling so deeply it must be felt rather than heard.
Contents:
Shadow-of-Blood

Shadow-of-Blood chuffs a greeting to the Strider. The tone is a little
standoffish, but still greeting, a few steps beyond merely acknowledging
her presence.

Sepdet tumbles down the slope, a dark shadow against darkness in the
ominously silent umbra of the new crescent moon, and crumples panting in a
heap at the bottom of the falls. She picks herself up with as much dignity
as she can muster and nods a greeting to the wolf, smelling of adrenalin,
exhileration, a little bit of fear.

Currently the moon is in the waxing No Moon phase (1% full).

Cyrano pages to Sepdet and Shadow-of-Blood: Mind if I start a scene here?

Sepdet wipes something off her cheeks and face--it looks like old leaves,
but they were clinging so tightly they conformed to her skin. Then she
shakes herself. ~Wild under the darkened sky, we fumble like newborns, lost
in a world gone strange,~ she intones softly, looking down at 
Shadow-of-Blood with a fey gaze. Then she looks around restlessly, scanning 
the lush pocket of green.

You paged Cyrano with 'Uh oh. Sepdet's _really_ odd when the moon is new.

To the south, near Bald Hill and the shiny rock, there is a brilliant flash
of light.

Currently on this gusty and cold fall  in the general St. Claire area, it
is 40 degrees Fahrenheit (4.4 degrees Celsius). The wind is coming from the
north-northwest at 15.1 mph. The ground is snowy and it is snowing. Skies
are overcast with a definite chance of precipitation.
+mp/h ACK! It just went from 'damp' to "snowing!"

"snowing!"'.
Cyrano pages to Sepdet and Shadow-of-Blood: See what happens when Coyote
comes home?
Shadow-of-Blood pages to Cyrano and Sepdet: Not at 40 degrees F, it's not
snowing. :-p

A few seconds later, the rolling sound of thunder echoes through the forest.

Shadow-of-Blood looks around, and up into the sky. Thunder?

Sepdet starts and almost falls as she turns sharply on one foot, nostrils
flaring to test the wind. ~I don't know. There are strange things about
under the stars tonight.~

Cyrano pages: Burnt ozone. Possibly some form of ground lightning, but the
thunder should have come much faster.

Falcon's Wing pads in from the north, apparently on a sort of patrol, nose
twitching.

Sepdet frowns, lips pursing as if at an acrid scent. ~Something...~ she
whispers. She shakes her head and starts picking her way warily back up the
valley towards the south rim, curious and anxious and a little wobbly still
from her recent run.

Falcon's Wing follows, ears back slightly, Blurring as he goes.

Noises, like seven or eight two-legs moving through the underbrush, raise
from the south like drums in an old British jungle flick.

Falcon's Wing comes out with a small whurf, and looks to Sepdet.

Shadow-of-Blood looks to the south, snorting in perhaps just a bit of
exasperation.

Trees a half mile away can be seen to throw themselves back from the path
of the whateveritis, and occasional glimpses of motion can be caught by the
watchful eye.

Sepdet jumps again, rather more edgy than usual tonight. ~Ai. Thought you
were Shadow-of-Blood.~ Even in the umbra, it takes her several minutes of
scrabbling to haul herself over the edge with her arms. She peers off into
the dark, listening and sniffing, and suddenly breaking off with an
expressive, if unintelligible, Egyptian curse. She starts jogging south as
best she can, shifting up.

Falcon's Wing blinks, shifts into hispo, and ranges off to her side, warily.

It bursts through the trees a quarter mile from the southerly-ranging
Garou, a large grey rhinocerous. If one were still noticing things, one
would notice the well-muscled man lying on its back and clinging to its
neck. If one were still noticing, the man seems to have a coyote's head.

Shadow-of-Blood just stands and -stares- at the rhinoceros.

Falcon's Wing stares at it for a moment. I want that Gift of Stormcloud's,
he mutters, and stops short.

Sepdet stumbles to a halt, ears standing out like exclamation points, and
also gazes for several disbelieving seconds at the behemoth lumbering
towards them. ~No. Can't...can't be.~

Cyrano becomes more visible now, as he yanks at the beast's neck, or his
head, or his ears. "Stop, damn your blind eyes! Stop! We're there!" he
shouts at it.

Shadow-of-Blood wonders -what- this huge blasted thing -is-?

Falcon's Wing moves a step forward. ~Sepdet? That's... who is that up there?~

Sepdet blinks at the voice and moves forward again, waving her arms and
trying to deflect the large spirit. *Hold up! Mighty one, hold! Our trees
are too weak for your feet!*

Cyrano swings over the great beast's head, hanging before it as he hangs
from its shoulders. It slows at this, and stops. *It is cold. It is cold
and it is dark. And I hunger.* Cyrano detaches himself from the beast, once
he's convinced himself it actually stopped. "Good journey, stout one.
Welcome to your new home." He pats its neck familiarly.

Falcon's Wing shifts into glabro and calls up to the... person, "Um, Hello?
Why is this... here?"

Sepdet pants and continues to stare. ~Coyote?~ She wipes her face again, as
if hoping maybe some of the wyld-goo she got plastered with earlier is
affecting her eyesight. ~Coyote, is that you?~

Falcon's Wing shifts into Glabro form.

Cyrano turns his head, the coyote-face beaming. "Wise one. I've done it."
He bows in as courtly a manner as a naked coyote-headed man can. "Here he
is. His name is Lochaba, and he brings the magic back."

Cyrano
A lithe coyote spirit jaggling which seems to be in constant motion, like a
moth dancing about an unseen flame. His rusty blood red coat is of a nearly
uniform colour, except for the lighter band near the tip of his tail.
Complementing his coat are his vivid amber eyes, examining everything
within line of sight over and over.
He favours his right foreleg slightly, and his opposite ear is torn.

Derrick gapes.

Shadow-of-Blood looks from the behemoth to the two-legged coyote, and his
stance shifts to a more understanding, and perhaps disgusted, one. This
explains much.

Sepdet's mind quickly races behind her eyes, struggling to come up to speed
in time to hide the dismay in her words. ~Lochaba. You have come to help us
from a far country? From the green lands south of my own people's home.~
She raises her hands palms-outwards in a gesture of respect.

Lochaba peers in Sepdet's direction, then nudges Cyrano rudely. *I hunger,
Jackal. For several suns I have hungered. You said there would be food
here. A plentitude.*

Derrick says, somewhat flummoxed, "Is he...? You... Is he supposed to be a
Totem?"

Cyrano lolls his tongue and shrugs, hands out in a gesture of 'what can ya do?'

Sepdet contorts and blurs as she is transformed.

Cyrano says "I don't suppose we have any rutabagas."

Shadow-of-Blood looks at the rhino, then at the two-legged coyote again.
Fool you are in the tales, and fool you are again. Can you not feel the
power here, and its protection by Fog and the Wyld itself?

Derrick says "Well, it's not like we had Fog (which is supposed to be kinda
secretish) when he left..."

Sepdet opts out of her fighting-form to think. ~I'm afraid so, Derrick.
Ahm.~ She continues inspecting the rhino worriedly. *Hunger for what, old
one? This place is not like the land you come from.*

Lochaba blinks. *This one has been told there was food here. The land is
plentiful in rutabagas and the sweet powdery things that come from your
lands.*

Long distance to Seeker, Cyrano, Derrick, and Shadow-of-Blood: Sepdet
doubts i have ever heard the spiritual word for 'rutabega' before. ;)

Seeker approaches the others cautiously, seeing the rhinoceros spirit.

Cyrano looks scornfully at Shadow-of-Blood. "And of course I felt the
power. I am not so much a fool as your people paint me. But it felt no
different than the power this majestic beast has radiated for the past
moon."

Seeker rests on his haunches hear Sepdet.

Cyrano coughs. "A moment. You say that this land is..." His furry brow
wrinkles, and he turns to Sepdet.

Derrick sits down on a rock, holding his head in his hands. "God, I have a
headache."

Lochaba leans against a tree. *I wish to be taken to the marshmallow
fields.* it announces.

Sepdet gives Cyrano a worried frown. ~I see you've had some great
adventures, coyote-friend,~ she says cautiously. ~But...this. I don't know.
This isn't really the sort of place his kind usually live.~

Seeker looks at Sepdet. Not for a long time.

Cyrano rolls his eyes. "If t'were any easier to find one of the appropriate
power..." he says through clenched teeth. "Most of them told me to let you
all languish in your own stupidity."

Derrick looks at Shadow of Blood. ~Well, he meant well...~ To Cyrano he
asks, "Since when have we had rutabegas around here?"

Cyrano rubs his hand across his brow, still speaking through restraints. "I
had to tell him /something/ to convince him to come. Not in front of the
ino-rhay, all right." He tugs his head toward the beast.

Derrick shrugs. "He's gotta learn sooner or later that you've, um, sold him
a bill of goods. I mean, c'mon."

Lochaba lifts its head and sniffs loudly. *I do not smell marshmallows. But
they must be near. Do they grow amongst trees?*

>From afar, to Seeker, Cyrano, Sepdet, and Derrick, Shadow-of-Blood whacks
Derrick. I'm supposed to be the blunt one here. ;)

Derrick looks enquiringly at the rhino. "Pardon?"

Seeker looks at Cyrano. What *did* you tell him?

Sepdet clasps her hands behind her back and shoots Cyrano a less
sympathetic glance, stalling. *I am not sure. What are these marshmallows?
I know a small human food called that, but it is weaver-made, and we have
none here.*

Cyrano shrugs, clasping his hands behind his back as he takes a few steps
back into the trees. "Well. Here he is, I've fulfilled my quest. Must be
going. My lady's..."

Derrick says, immediately, "Nope. You're not leavin'. You got us into this,
you gotta help us out."

Lochaba shakes and steps toward Sepdet. *Marshmallows. Sweet powdery fruits
that grow in these lands. Vast fields of them, turning the plains white.*

Sepdet wrinkles her face. *Lochaba,* she says gravely, looking up into
squinty eyes, *such things do not grow in this land. Did Coyote say Wheel
Renewed? But he was mistaken. The Wheel of Ptah, perhaps, has such
things--I do not know. We would be honored if you chose to help us fight
our foes with your strength. But I am not certain we have meet gifts for
such a one.*

Lochaba swings its head toward Coyote, who is still slowly edging his way
into the woods. *Your emissary has gotten us lost again?* it rumbles. *You
do not have marshmallows, nor do you have rutabagas?*

Seeker pages: Good thing I can't understand Spirit Speech. :)

Derrick shifts down and moves to flank the Coyote.

Sepdet says carefully, *We may be able to provide some for you, but no,
this is not a land where they grow.*

Lochaba snorts and paws at the ground idly. *When I could have gone to the
Wheel of /P'Tah/ which is only a few suns trot away, instead of tromping
across the Deep for a full /moon/??*

Long distance to Seeker, Cyrano, Falcon's Wing, and Shadow-of-Blood: Sepdet
carefully does NOT give her name, so that those bastards at the Wheel of
Ptah won't know why they have a hungry rhino on their doorstep should it
come to that.

Cyrano crouches down and leans toward Falcon's Wing. "He angers again. I
hate it when this happens. It's so destructive."

Falcon's Wing looks alarmed. ~Yes, and in our nice shiny new Caern which
I'm the sort of Groundkeeper of. Perhaps you could... guide him away? There
are certainly things to eat here. Just not rutabegas.~

Cyrano coughs again. "I. Er. He's rather fussy. And he's got his heart set
on marshmallows." He shrugs. "I don't exactly know why."

Falcon's Wing cocks his head. "I might have a bag of 'em in my pack. But...
I mean, it's not like he wouldn't eat a bag of them in one gulp.~

Sepdet dips her head gravely at the rhinoceros. *I am not certain if our
cousins in that other place have such things either, but they are wise and
have much lore. I am sorry, great one. Would you care for a small offering
before you depart?* She nods hurriedly at Derric.

Falcon's Wing shifts into Glabro form.

Cyrano glares at Falcon's Wing. "A gulp! Is a gulp preferrable to a rampage??"

Derrick rummages, and comes up with a half a pack of marshmallows. "Must've
eaten some," he mutters, and dumps them next to the rhino (sans bag.)
"Indubitably,~ he mutters to the Coyote.

Shadow-of-Blood thinks the coyote has lost what little mind it might have
once had, and the rhino should be sent back to its own land. Enough damage
has been caused to the land here.

Lochaba calms slightly. *A show of respect and, perhaps, of apology. That
would do much to balm the wounds done to me. Yes.* With surprising labial
dexterity, it lowers its head and eats the marshmallows, one by one, making
contented little rhino noises.

Cyrano glares once again at Shadow-of-Blood. "Much like your kind. One
tries to do you a service and you urinate on it. I'd forgotten why I'd
forsaken your caern."

Derrick says, ~Hey, calm down, Coyote. He's a Talon, he's never nice to
anyone.~ He grins at the Rhino and says, not that he'll understand, ~Wish I
had the veggie in question...~

Sepdet kneels and helps the rhino eat, concentrating very hard on not
getting her fingers munched. ~It wants marshmallows. It wants respect. It
wants...some vegetable I don't know.~ She stifles a laugh. ~We should be
nice to it; maybe it would help us in the hospital attack.~ She sounds more
than a little doubtful however.

[Scene being set for Robert's arrival]
Somewhere off the southern edge of the valley, under the mysterious dark
blanket of a moonless night, three Garou and a coyote are clustered edgily
around a very, very large rhino spirit discussing what on earth to do with
it.

Derrick says, ~Yeah, maybe he'll knock it down.~

Derrick pages to Cyrano, Sepdet, Shadow-of-Blood, and Robert: There's a big
Rhino eating some marshmellows. Everyone's standing around staring at it.
It's all Cyrano's fault. There. A scene.

Lochaba delicately finishes the marshmallows. It lifts its head. *I accept
your offering. And I shall give your greeting to your brothers at the Wheel
of Ptah.*

Robert looks around, and strides purposefully towards the rhino-spirit. As
he nears the gathering, he addresses the large spirit politely, but with
confidence. *Good evening, great one. We are flattered that you would take
the time and effort to come here and aid us in our time of need. As you can
perhaps see, however, the young coyote kit was a little hasty, as his kind
are sometimes wont to be, albeit well-meaning, as Fog is already aiding us.
Perhaps, Great One, we can give you aid in your return home?*

Cyrano pages to Sepdet and Derrick: Damn, this boy's /well/ informed.

Shadow-of-Blood gives first Cyrano then Derrick a bit of a glare, then
twitches his tail and perks his ears proudly, ignoring the lesser
creatures.

Sepdet nods up at the huge beast, then breaks into a sudden relieved smile
as a familiar voice catches her from behind. She straightens and takes a
step back from Lochaba--not too quickly, lest she appear rude--and smiles
at it.

Robert pages: Have I mentioned recently that having a Familiar Spirit
hanging around the caern can be handy sometimes? :)

Lochaba lifts its head, swinging it back and forth. *I have received quite
enough navigational aid for one moon, but the offer is seen as gracious. I
shall trust my own nose to find me to my destination.*

Derrick breathes a sigh of relief and zips his knapsack up.

Long distance to Robert: Sepdet giggles. 

Sepdet touches her priestess' lock respectfully. *Then we wish you good
hunting on your quest. If I find a place like that which you seek, I will
send you word. Perhaps we will meet again in the south-lands someday.*

Lochaba turns about, moving with some difficulty in the tight space,
managing to only push over one more tree. Without another word, it moves
south along the swath it carved previously.

Long distance to Robert: Sepdet told the rhino that the Wheel Reewed wasn't
like that, but maybe the Wheel of Ptah had 'marshmallows'. She's got a bit
of a coyote streak herself.

Derrick mutters, ~And how are we going to clean /that/ up?~ as he waves
politely to the Rhino.

Robert pages: They'd kill you, or try. Can you imagine a rhino trying to
navigate the narrow streets of Casablanca? :)

Long distance to Robert: Sepdet did NOT give the rhino her name.

Sepdet cringes at the sound of breaking wood and pads a few steps after the
lumbering giant, kneeling at the edge of the damaged area and staring off
into the woods. ~Ai.~

Robert rubs his forehead and shakes his head. "Wonderful. Looks like you &
Shea have your work cut out for you for a while, Derrick. Try to encourage
them, and lavish the attention on the broken and bent trees, both Umbrally
& in the Realm. They'll need to go grow back to normal." He smiles wryly as
he looks up at the retreating rhino. "A rhinoceros?"

Derrick looks over at Cyrano. "Certain people got enthusiastic. For which,"
he says, firmly, "We thank them. For the effort, at least." He returns to
staring at the trees for a moment, and then heaves a sigh.

Cyrano freezes, his silent and subtle retreat again interrupted. He lolls
his tongue to Derrick in great friendliness.

Shadow-of-Blood thinks the effort was great, and the intentions wer good.
Even if the outcome was probably usual for the involvement of a coyote.

Cyrano pages to Sepdet, Derrick, Shadow-of-Blood, and Robert: Thanks very
much, in case I don't get the chance to say it later. It's nice to be home.

Derrick says, ~See? Even the Talon thanks you. I mean, when a Talon thanks
you, you know you did /something/ right...~ He grins at Shadow of Blood,
saying, ~No offense intended,~ and adds, ~Although a Rhino's sort of...
improbable, in these parts. Don't Spririts sort of correspond to the non
Spirit world?~

Sepdet sets a hand against the glimmering trunk of the last casualty and
sits quietly there for several breaths, as if Mother's Touch could heal a
spirit. Finally she raises her head and looks around for Cyrano, an
expression of pained amusement mixed with her smile.

Cyrano shrugs. "Well. It is as I said. I had to range long before I found
one both powerful enough and willing to come to your aid. A long quest."
Cyrano turns to look toward Sepdet, expression uncertain.

Robert turns and looks at the coyote. *You meant well. I'll tell you
what--since the totemquest with the rhinoceros didn't quite work out the
way you'd planned, you could help the caern in another way, and make it a
little more fun to play in. You can help Derrick & Shea, but from this
side. Just encourage the trees a bit. You can even dance some with them, and
see what kind of neat shapes they can make.*

Robert pages: Have I mentioned recently how much I like Spirit Friend? :)

Sepdet's expression brightens and she nods emphatically. ~Listen to the
Warder. I'll help, sometimes; coddling the bawn-spirits is my calling,
after all.~ She gives Cyrano a familiar wink. ~Crazy coyote. As ever. I
know you did this because of our desperate need. You will at least tell the
tale of your exploits to my Galliard cub, too... I've no doubt it's a wild
one.~

Cyrano relaxes and looks quite pleased. "T'would be my pleasure, good
wrongsider, to take a hand in repairing this damage." He scratches behind
one ear with his half-hand and yips softly.

Derrick sits down, next to one of the aforementioned trees, and looks at
it. ~So, good sir, care to, perhaps, start now?~

>From afar, Cyrano wonders... perhaps a Gift called Great-Aunt's touch, that
heals plants.

Long distance to Cyrano: Sepdet giggles. Sepdet should have it by now, all
the tree-patching she's done.

>From afar, Cyrano has Cyrano teach it to you.

Shadow-of-Blood will go help healing from the south, as the trail passes
through the Talon-protected lands.

Shadow-of-Blood walks around the side of the pool and heads into the
southern woods.

Cyrano moves toward the tree, crouching at its base. "Do we expect to
revive them all?" he asks quietly, not looking up from the trunk.

Derrick glances at Sepdet, and says, ~Personally, I'd prefer it.~

Robert smiles gently. "Just try. We'll save the ones we can, on both sides."

Sepdet shoots the Warder another half-amused, half-pained glance and moves
to another nearby sapling that needs less repair. It's obviously a job her
crippled hands haven't entirely forgotten. ~Sometimes an ice storm breaks a
few. Sometimes stranger things of the wyld. It'll work out.~ She props up a
sagging branch with a bit of deadwood. ~I'll see about mixing up some of
that resin-seal I used after that lumbering Get broke half a mile's good
stand of young spruce and pines.~

Derrick takes some rope out of his knapsack and looks at it. "This stuff
gonna disappear when I leave or something?"

Robert nods to the group, saying, "I'll leave this side of things in
Sepdet's capable hands, and work on strengthening the trees from the other
side. Each side affects the other," he finishes, staring down into a pool
in the stream to step sideways.

Robert looks into the pool at the waterfall's base, gazing upon his reflection.
Robert has left.

Sepdet's hands are a bit fumbly, but she grins a tired farewell to Robert.

Derrick shrugs, and starts binding injured limbs with the rope.

Sepdet asks absently, ~Does your shit follow you when you go umbral? No, if
you put something down, it stays where it is.~

Robert pages: Well, yeah. :) Stupid but vaguely enjoyable, which is why I
told him to go on with the rhino idea. :)

Derrick says, ~Ah,~ and binds more cheerfully now.

Cyrano gently lifts the trunk of his tree, speaking softly to it and
apologising to it.

Sepdet smiles a little at Cyrano and goes back to humming as she pokes at
the smaller trees and plants, puttering like a grandmother.

Cyrano wraps his legs about the tree, stroking its trunk softly over and
over. He turns his head to find Sepdet. "I talked to my lady. She has a
fondness for you."

Derrick binds another tree's limbs, murmuring, ~Buck up,~ to it.

Sepdet glances up at the sky and back, thoughtfully. ~I'm glad. She still
talks to you? I wasn't sure.~

Cyrano shakes his head. "No. No, she doesn't speak. But she smiled. She's
very fond of all her stars."

Derrick looks back and forth between them.

Sepdet sighs wistfully at that. ~Even the fallen,~ she murmurs sadly, and
moves on to another.


Cyrano shakes his head, sending snow flying all about him, and frowns. "I
suppose I'll be short a few fingers for a while now," he murmurs to the

tree, "But not to worry. You'll be just fine."

Derrick keeps up his work.

>From afar, to Cyrano and Sepdet, Derrick goes bed soon.
Thank you for visiting.

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