2020-05-25 TPC: Scouting a Cloud, Northern End

This log has been backdated during the Liberation MUSH beta period. Please excuse any discrepancies between when it is currently dated, and anything posted in the scene. The scene was originally dated 14 months later.

Scouting a Cloud, Northern End

Participants: Abigale, Alexa, Ashlynn, Addison, Edgar

Storyteller: Nate

Location: A thick miasma over the umbral 405, northern end

Date and Time: May 25 2020

Summary: Conversations with spirits and some misunderstandings

The group of them made their way to the highway. Abigale seemed rather nervous about the trip as she had ridden in Alexa's strange metal insect. Shaking her head a bit, when they got there she would take a breath and would look back at the others "Okay...here we go?" She asked, then attempted to step sideways.


Alexa finds a suitable spot to park the car. With four passengers, the red VW was looking fairly crowded, and the Galliard took a moment to look into the rearview mirror, then around the car. She nods. "This looks good," she says. "Alright, stepping over..."

She uses the rearview mirror as a focus as she begins to cross.



Edgar is equally as unhappy about cars as Abigale. They're loud, they smell bad, and they spew out poisons. But they do allow getting around cities, without risking the Litany so he tolerates them. "Okay okay, I got this," he says and he does indeed have it. The Gauntlet passes through him, or he through it; thick, heavy, and more like moving through concrete than moving through water. But he presses through into the Umbra and takes stock of the situation.


Addison sits in the back of the the van. His feet dangle over the side of the bumper and a blindfold covers his eyes under his round full moon glasses. Looking thoroughly on edge he finally stands, feeling around in the darkness. He hears the roar of cars in his eyes and his nostrils burn with the stench of exhaust. "Hey uh..." he numbly feels around, "are we where we need to be? Don't let me walk in front of a bus or something, alright?" 

The Ragabash pauses for a moment. "Uh... guys?" Not hearing the presence of the others he realizes he's alone. Nervously, he peels off his blind and tries to find a mirror before THE MOON finds him. What a terrible night to have a Curse... 

Addison looks for a mirror in the form of the car rear-view and not look at the Moon... 


This part of the umbra is, as some spirits call it, a 'long flat'. Thick skeins of silver-grey webbing have been woven tightly together and polished to a dull sheen, smooth as an ice-rink in some parts, pitted and worn in others. Safety barriers are also firmly woven in place, though less tightly than the freeway itself. Long-standing matrix signs are similarly represented with thick clusters of grey, flickering with eerie green and orange lights now and then. Some parts of the 405 rise up above other roads, giving a good vantage point for looking down over the city.

On this part of the freeway, a pair of housecat-sized pattern spiders lurk in damaged parts, spinning their repairs with endless patience, multi-jointed legs placing each strand of webbing just so. They keep an eye on the area with one faintly glowing blue eye on each leg. 

In the middle of the road, a cluster of hoglings are huffing and chortling to themselves, bodies made of rolling fumes that mingle and blend with each other as they move slowly north, making it difficult to count how many distinct spirits there are. 

Four Garou have arrived successfully. The fifth has .... not.


"Here's hoping we don't come back to a ticket." Ash says with a laugh - the closer to the quest they come, the more rough her humor. Though she sobers up, glancing to each in the van, then turning her attention to reflective mirror. It's not like the Western Eye, where nature is thick and the Gauntlet is thin. There's a grunt of irritation from the Ahroun, taking a few moment to shake it off and re-center herself before the can get the thickened Gauntlet to part and allow her across. 

As soon as she is across, she surges to her massive warform, rolling her neck and shoulders - the shift effortless, clothing merging so she won't be pantsless later. Massive, she's mostly a bottomless black, with a white star on her chest that trails a comet's tail to the bottom of her sternum, and moonlight dappling is scattered across her shoulders and back - impossible to mistake her for anything but a Fury of the Laskaris line.


As Abigale stepped through, she immediately shifted to her Lupus form and shook herself out rather harshly. As if there were some dust on her coat. Her pattern of fur typical for a Rocky Mountain Wolf yet she had a bit of a red spot over a single eye. She watched each person cross...until she noticed something else. "Um...hey guys...where is Addison-rhya?" She asked

What a terrible night to have Curse indeed. Addison finds himself... stuck halfway between the material world a spirit. Webs. Spiders... 


Naturally, the Pattern Spiders notice a bunch of scruffy jumped-up dogs crossing over into their area. But as is typical, they continue their repair work and do nothing. The pollution banes don't appear to have noticed the Garou just yet.


Alexa breathes in deep and focuses on the mirror, on the spaces between here and not-here. She turns her gaze inward, and to any outside observer, it would seem that the girl were tranced out, staring into the mirror. Gradually, she eases her way across the Gauntlet. Gradually...
Her eye blinks, and she realizes that she is not where she once was. The Child of Gaia rises to her feet, immediately doing a head count... and then fretting her brow as she sees how Addison hasn't made it across yet.

She takes stock of the scene. Her cousin has already shifted. She sees Abigale fishing Addison out of the Umbra. Edgar seems to have made it just fine... check, check, check. The Galliard rolls her shoulders with a sigh of relief, and then hunches over, beginning to shift into her Crinos form as well.


Edgar steps through Chrinos into Direwolf as he passes out of the Gauntlet. He looks around at his warparty and when he sees Addison is not with them, a mild whine escapes his throat. He lets out a congratulatory, exultant vocalisation as Abigale fishes him out of the membrane between worlds and falls in behind, not sure if he should stand behind the Ragabash or the Ahroun or the Theurge, just knowing that this is not 'his wheelhouse'. Everyone now present, the tension in his body directs itself to the task at hand.


Abigale would take a few minutes to fish him out. She growled and whined as she tugged on him almost comically with her mouth "Yoush neef to shtok eatin' brow-nies. Too 'at!" She said while tugging on the Ragabash to get him free of the webbing. She growled at a couple of spiders that got too close then resumed her pulling.


Ears flick back when Addison crops up as not with them. Turning, Cracks-The-Skull spies the Theurge fishing out of the in-between and dips her muzzle. <<I will bring up the rear.>> She rumbles, contented to take the vulnerable position within the pack and let those that know the Umbra take point. Already, she's keeping half an eye on the pattern spiders and playing 'spot the bane'.


Addison is ripped free of the Pattern Web. His face is the look of a silent scream as he's ripped to the other side. His forehead was dotted with cold sweats. It seemed completely lost on him, for the moment, that Abigale had called him fat. Getting stuck in the gauntlet... was existentially unpleasant. Now on the other side of the Umbra, he feels the Moon eye on him stronger than ever. He takes a deep breath through his nose and stares at the ground. Perhaps if he were shift of his own will, then he wouldn't be stuck that way for the rest of the phase? He attempts to shift up into Crinos. 


Abigale yipped and cheered when Addison got free from the webbing. Her tail wagged before she looked to the others and took point, if no one stopped her "I can uh...take point. I can talk to the Spirits. I might be a little better at that. Um...yeah. Yeah I can do that" She said, moving to the front of the pack and began to sniff around, trying to figure out a trail to follow. Though she did look at the spirits of the spiders. Wondering what they might say.


Flesh twists and shapes, fur erupts from Alexa's face, and gradually, the werewolf works her way into Crinos. Two things become apparent when she does so.

The first is her ancestry. Much like Cracks-the-Skull, Forged-in-Flames is the spitting image of a Black Fury. Dark fur, silver highlights, a large and powerful form stretching a good 9-10 feet from head to toe - if she were of Pegasus' tribe, no doubt she'd resonate more strongly with the blood of the heroes who came before her.

The second is the strong family resemblance to the Ahroun. Thankfully, in this form, she seems to be wearing a dedicated necklace of prayer beads with an image of unicorn in this form, decorated with the glyph of her tribe.

Thus changed, she walks over towards Abigale and Addison, crouching down to check in on the Ragabash who'd gotten caught. Her head turns to look down at Abigale. <<Good work getting him through, young Theurge,>> she intones in the High Speech, and spares her a smile, somewhat tempered by the fact that it is on the face of her war form. Her eyes turn to Addison, watching him, being present, but not saying anything for the moment.


Edgar keens out a happy laugh at Abigale's joke, a series of yips with a lolling wolf grin on his monstrous face, all the more monstrous for the twisted, broken cartellagenous horn on his head. Friendly, he does not look, but to the other Garou present, his body language (though tinged with fear) exudes the friendliness and warmth that he's been working on since his challenge.
He falls in to his place in line, waiting for the leader to form up and he begins sniffing for scents, acclimatising his senses to the space they came through so as to find a way back.


Abigale would look behind her at the others and let out a bark of her own "Come on! I'll take point!" She said, this time with much more confidence as she started to lead them forward.


A low rumble of approval leaves Ashlynn's throat when Abigale moves to take point. The Ahroun stepping in a little closer, and vaguely motioning the Galliard, Alexa, more towards the front so the bigger of the moon's faces can make a smaller-moon sandwich. Addison and Edgar both looked over to make they're alright - but really, most of her focus is on potential threats, and watching for trouble that might take an overt interest in the quint of wolves.


Addison grits his teeth and slowly tries to let the form come over him. The snapping of bone and tearing of flesh heralds a painful shift upwards into a larger form. For a Garou his body is particularly slender, especially of limb. However this does not detract from the lean smooth muscle that twists under his pelt. Long slim fingers end in deadly claws and behind a stern lipped muzzle are concealed long deadly teeth. A darker splotch of fur covers his left eye, and his brows are gnarled over frighteningly human looking eyes. 

Rather than the picture of raw muscle and power, Ghostwalker's Crinos is eerie to behold. In the Umbra that takes on a new eerieness to them, as unseen winds flutter his fur. It's almost as if he's more spirit than flesh. His long limbs push him-self up off the ground. He tries to assess the Umbral landscape. Whereas Abi seemed interested in the spiders Ghostwalker seems to be cautiously approaching the banes with a stealthy step. He's trying to get a better sense of their airte, to see if it smells like the cloud at all...


Abigale would look about the place and sniffed the air a little bit. "This place is bad smelling...lots of weavers. Umm...okay. Anyone able to see what could have made the holes? I'll try to talk to the spiders..." She said and would go near to one of the damaged sections the spiders were trying to fix. She sat down "Hail spirit of the Weaver. We have seen the disturbing cloud in the realm physical. What caused this damage?" She asked, hoping to at least get one or two of them to answer.


<<It'll be okay.>> Alexa's voice, powerful and smooth in this form, and she rests a powerful paw on Addison's shoulder. She stays there with him until he has fully transformed, and then removes her hand. Ashlynn's gestures get a glance and a nod.
Once she's sure that Addison is going to be alright, the Child of Gaia releases him and moves towards the front... right up near Abigale, watching the Theurge with interest. Her powerful hands flex, as though warming themselves up, but the look on her face is... focused. Thoughtful.


The two pattern spiders are joined by a third which crawls up and over the safety barrier, as Abigale approaches. Their mandibles click in a threat-display; not overly aggressive, but a warning not to come too close or that might well change. Eerie blue eyes on each of those too-many-jointed legs regard her passively, but none of them seem inclined to make conversation just yet.


Ashlynn keeps an eye on the three spiders when they click at Abigale, body language reflecting her alertness - ears high and twitching to pick up sounds, nostrils flexing as she pulls in scents. Tension is under all that fur, ready to move should there be an indication of a need for it.


Edgar falls down onto all fours, the natural Hispo pose, and drops down into non threatening body language, his shoulders relaxed. No reason to be threatening the Weaver Spirits when the Theurge wants to talk to them. His nose sniffs at the air, no real idea what he should be looking for in the scents, this being his first Umbral Death cloud. <<Smell bad, wrong>>, his limited Garou vocabulary in Hispo adequately expressing his thoughts on the current predicament.


Abigale would take a long inhale and steadied herself. She trained for this. She can do this...they were spirits like any other. She stood up on all fours and bowed her head to the spiders and took only a single step forward. "We mean no harm to you. Or to this mighty work of the Weaver. My pack and I are here to help allieviate the problem and prevent further damage to this place. We seek your aid to prevent further damage. Aid us, what happened here? What caused this?" She asked


Ghostwalker grits his teeth and back away from sniffing range of the Banes. He creeps back towards the other wolves. Hearing Edgar growl out about the clouds' stench the Crinos lifts a long arm towards the cloud to point at it and move with serpentine fluidity then over to the banes. He tries to impart what he learned to his packmates. <<"Same... smell...">>


The pattern spiders consider Abigale's words, her bowed head and the way she has phrased her request. A few of the blue eyes blink and flicker, and then one moves slightly forward. It makes gestures with three of its forelegs, sketching something out that makes absolutely no sense to those without spirit speech.

SPIRIT SPEECH TRANSLATION: The spider's motions describe a little floating blob that zips around like an annoying insect. It is precisely six point one centimeters in diameter, and drips glowing yellow stuff in its wake.


Alexa picks up on Ashlynn's alertness, and she, too, a spitting image of the same lineage, perks up her ears and swivels them forward. Her tension is more subdued, but she's clearly at attention too, looking perhaps a bit protective as her eyes dart from the young Theurge to the spirits. She tenses slightly as the spider approaches, but when she sees that it begins weaving something - something only a spirit worker could hope to understand, but communication nonetheless - the tension bleeds from her shoulders. She smiles slightly again, a hand going up to her prayer necklace, eyes on the exchange, trying not to think about the stink that both Edgar and Addison have now brought to words.


Abigale looked at the message a bit, sitting back a bit to scratch behind her ear. "That is...disconcerning. Do you know which way it went by chance? Or how it caused this kind of damage to your webbing? You aid is invaluable Master Spirit of the Weaver and it is very much appreciated! If you could be so gracious as to answer those two remaining questions, then we shall leave you to your work unmolested and we shall deal with this problem. For Mother Gaia and the Weaver" She said, keeping her head bow low and kept a respectful distance.


Edgar tenses, just a smidge, at the mention of doing anything for the Weaver, but dealing with Spirits is beyond his comprehension, something he knows he doesn't know how to do, so he stays quiet but balking internally. He instead keeps his attention on the horizon, looking for threats that could be sneaking up on them, <<nose down eyes up>> he murmurs to himself repeatedly and quietly, using it as both a personal mantra and a reminder to not let his excitement and nerves overwhelm him.

The spider makes a few more gestures, before settling back with the other two.

SPIRIT SPEECH TRANSLATION: The spider conveys that the drips of yellow stuff are what causes the damage. The last time it saw the thing, it was headed southeast along the highway. It has been around a bit.


Ghostwalker's ears flatten to his head as he peers over at the spider's natterings. The Ragabash was apparently a little more mistrustful of what the Spider relates, in no small part because he was just stuck in the Web. The crinos tilts his skull contemplatively. <<"Firefly?">> He puzzles. <<"No...">> No. That was silly. Firefly wouldn't do this. The Uktena shakes his mane as if to shudder as he realizes what the spiders must be talking about. <<"Furmling...">> The Ragabash peers towards the rest of the pack, almost warily. He searches for the sign of recognition in the brows of the other Garou, as if to try and determine if they knew what a Furmling even was. The deeper scowl on his own face indicated that the Uktena definitely knew himself. 


If 'Firefly' or 'Furmling' means anything to Forged-in-Flames, the Galliard doesn't show it. Instead, her eyes turn thoughtfully to the Ragabash, reading the expression on the spirit-wolf. Her body remains calm, though her eyes are alight with caution now. <<I don't suppose you know what the Spider is speaking of, Ghostwalker-yuf?>> she asks.


Abigale seemed a bit perplexed by the answer Ghostwalker gave "I don't know what that is...sounds nasty though" She said, sticking out her tongue. "So...the weaver spirit said that a spirit, a little ball leaking yellow goo has been moving around the area. The goo has been what's causing the damage to the highway. It was last seen heading southwest from here. It's small I think...we could move together with Addison scouting ahead and Ashlynn in front for defense. Edgar and I could bring up the rear with Alexa in the middle.


Cracks-The-Skull gives a small shake of her head when Ghostwalker looks her way - unfamiliar with the various inhabitants of the Umbra to a degree. Can't be good, though, judging by the look on his face. Alexa asks what she is wondering, so she silently looks between them, then looks in the direction that Abigale indicates. <<If it is small, then there are many to make a cloud so large.>> she rumbles as she moves to set up as point.


Edgar almost lets out an instinctive growl at the word 'Furmling', he knows enough about the creatures of the wyrm to know what it is and to be appropriately apprehensious, but he doesn't want to spook the Weaver spirits. He runs through a mental checklist and he's done what he can to prepare to do battle with the wyrm and he does it as part of a sept. He lets out a questioning yip <<nest where?>>, tilting anxiously from side to side.


From the other side of the freeway, the cluster of smog-banes breaks apart into three distinct clouds of disgusting scent, all three of them muttering and burbling and coughing. The sounds are caught by Edgar's keen ears but mean little. Abigaile also hears however...

SPIRIT SPEECH TRANSLATION: They're basically mocking the pattern spiders, calling them 'snitches'


<<"Southeast,">> Ghostwalker corrects the younger Uktena. He turns his dark eyes back to Alexa and tries to convey what it was. The Homid was not used to the limitations of expression of the Crinos shape, and much less articulate than in his breed form. <<"Bane... of Bale Fire. Bane of... Wyrm's Blood. Painful.">> Crudely, he tries to impart the dangers of what the faced. He then tries to remember how to deal with such things. <<"No biting... Any weapons?">> While trying to impart this knowledge to Alexa and Ashlynn he completely misses what the Hogglings are sputtering about. 


Abigale's ears flatten as she growls at the three clouds of disgusting scent. "At least they help fix...not break things" She muttered. Trying not to be disrespectful but clearly she lost her cool for a moment. She looked to the others "We should get moving. Ashlynn and Addison, take point. We should be after this...Furmling thing. Get rid of it before it causes them more damage" She said, giving the bane spirits another look before grumbling to them.


Abigale would have started moving but she stopped as she looked to the bane spirits and huffed. She looked to the others and made her way towards them. Her head bowed a little though she still did not approve of the insult to the Weaver spirits. "Why do you refer to the Weaver Spiders as these 'snitches?' They required assistance. Do you know this furmling thing?" She asked them.


Edgar shrugs a little and flexes the barely independent digits in his Direwolf forepaws <<claws weapons good?>> he asks Addison and nods at Abigale <<then we hunt>>, his words slurring a little as an unconscious snarl twists his snout.


Alexa's brows furrow at Addison's description. She nods slowly in acknowledgement of the spirit wolf, and then looks down to the Theurge, who has quite happily taken up Alpha position in this Umbral pack. The Fostern's eyes flick towards the distance, then she nods. <<Alright. Falling to the middle. I'm going to invoke the old pact with Fire and hope that it helps here. Cracks-the-Skull, you learned the same Gift as a cub, did you not?>>
Her eyes turn to her cousin. She reaches back and materializes a rosewood staff at the mention of weapons, though her eyes remain on the Black Fury.


No weapons for the Ahroun. <<I did.>> Ashlynn rumbles, looking back to study Alexa a long moment before bowing her head. A moment's focus and gnosis is drawn on to invoke the protection that a flame-spirit taught her. Rolling her shoulders, lips peel back from teeth in a savage 'grin' before she swings her huge head towards the southeast, slowly starting to stalk that direction. <<With luck I will have a new scar and a tale for my cousin to howl to the Lunes.>> Eagerness creeping into her posture.


The hoglings huff and cough in Abigale's direction, the sounds somewhat mocking even to those who don't understand the full context. They don't come any closer, but nor are they moving away either.

SPIRIT SPEECH TRANSLATION: Tattle-tale, tattle-tale, silly little wolf-bitch wanting to fix things. Go away.

Ghostwalker utters a noise halfway between growl and grunt at Abigale's assessment that Weaverlings were any better. He then gawks at Abigale attempting to communicate with the Wyrmlings. <<"Careful!">> He growls, looming to stand over the Cliath protectively. <<"Bossy...">> The Ragabash clucks his tongue a little at Abigale. His arms move, readying themselves to scoop up the Lupus if he needed to. He squints at the Banes trying to understand them. 


Edgar nods at Ashlynn and takes his place in the out-facing back to back circle. Rearing threateningly at the Banes and lets out a howl to the Lunes, a beam of moonlight coallesces on him, bathing him in the Moon's blessings. Pacing a little anxiously he awaits instruction from the current leader, swaying a little as he does, instinictively trying to make himself look bigger.


Alexa nods to Ashlynn, and then focuses herself as well. A clawed hand goes to the pendant on her chest, and she whispers reverently of the spirits of Flame. For a moment, heat seems to emanate from the Child of Gaia's form, and when her eyes open, they're briefly lit with unseen fire before returning to normal. 

She has a question on her tongue, but she sees that Ghostwalker is scoping out a tense situation right now. She takes a step forward, using the staff as a walking stick, and turns her eyes on the group of Banes now.


Abigale's nose crunched up as she felt their stench roll over her nose. She said Addison move over towards her and she rolled herself. She growled again "Icky icky nasty nasty spirits. Always make things mean and rotten. Tell me why it's here. Or I make you go away so you can't make it all fall down"

Immediately, Abigale feels the rage bubbling up within herself as she effortlessly shifted to her Crinos form. Looking much more akin to a Red Rolf in this state as she snarled "Start. Talking"


The reaction from the smoky spirits is immediate, the trio splitting again as a fourth one emerges, all four of them cowering down against the silvery webbing of the freeway, flattening somewhat. One of them makes a desperate-sounding huffing noise followed by the slow roiling sound of a pot of water boiling over and hissing, though there's a sense that it is also trying to sound as helpful as possible.

SPIRIT SPEECH TRANSLATION: We are here because we are here! Grass spirit is where grass is. Fish spirit is where fish are. We are here because we are here! Same for flying one.


Ashlynn pauses in her steps and turns towards the words spoken to the spirits, the taunting and the reply. She turns her attention to Alexa, tilting her head. Ears flick back and she starts to stalk back towards the group, ready to interject if needed. The four spirits cower, and she chuffs an approving sound. <<Come. Our prey is to the Southeast.>>


When the Theurge of all people rockets into Crinos and glares down the banes, Alexa can't help but give a crooked grin, her calm facade breaking for once, and showing the rage that's been bubbling just under the surface. The nod that Ashlynn gets is fierce and eager, but then she adds for thought, <<Give our Theurge one more moment,>> she tells the Cliath.
Then to Ghostwalker, she quietly adds, <<To confirm, we are safe to rend this foul Furmling bane with the sacred claws Mother has granted us? Or must we avoid touching it at all.>> Her eyes flick over to the Ragabash.


Abigale would roar, letting out this furious howl as she bent herself down low and raked her claws on the ground. "I suggest you leave here. If I smell so much as a whiff of your rotten stench anywhere near my quarry, words can little define your suffering. Your furmling's machinations die here and now. Be gone!" Abigale roared once more, making herself as big and as terrifying as possible. "GO!" She bellowed. She would not move, waiting to see how fast they would flee from the area.


Edgar nods respectfully at Ashlynn after she stares down some Spirits, not really understanding how she did it (he knows a little about Spirits, but not much) and then waits waits for the party to sally forth and and pads along in formation, ready to protect his hunting pack against any threat that should come. <<Theurge word fighter>> he says approvingly.


Ghostwalker stands up as the Lupus snaps back at the Banes. He sweeps his long neck back towards the group. <<"This place... needs cleansing... more powerful than I know.">> He looks down at the Cliath. <<"We'll come back... deal with these ones later.">> When Alexa asks if they can rend at the Furmling the Uktena replies warily: <<"It will hurt...">>


As much as they might like to, the hoglings don't go far. They cower a bit more, then slowly regroup and begin wandering across the freeway again. Not fleeing, just going back to whatever it is they were doing before.


Abigale snarled at them again, even feigning a claw swipe to get them to move faster away. She snorted once, moving away from them as she rejoined the group. "We go. Ashlynn and Addison take point. Alexa take middle. Edgar stay in the rear with me. We go" She said, shifting herself back down to her Lupus form "I have had enough this filth..." She said, starting to urge the pack forward.


Forged-in-Flames nods firmly at Addison's words, and takes her bo staff into both powerful hands. <<First we cut the rot,>> she adds. <<Then we clean the wound.>>

Then Abigale comes back, and the fury in her voice is apparent. Alexa's fingers curl around the staff and squeeze at being so bossed around by a Cliath, but- she was heading up the War Party. They were in the Umbra. She takes a deep breath to calm herself, and then begins to set out, eager to take out the rage in her heart on a foul servitor of the Wyrm.


Ashlynn growls out a chuckle, <<Small but fierce.>> almost to herself as she watches the temper of the Theurge. Ghostwalker's words win a bit of familiar goading for Alexa from the Ahroun. <<Not afraid, are you, little cousin?>> Little. As IF the Galliard doesn't have an inch or two in height on her. Taking point once more, she starts towards where the cloud was headed.


<<"Only Rite of the Opened Sky could cleanse this... or...">> Ghostwalker doesn't state the alternative. <<"I don't know it.">> Indeed, that was a powerful rite. The Ragabash stands and starts slinking in the dirrection of the southeast. The Uktena lets out a chuff and squints at Abigale as he starts off. He uses is long crinos arms to move in an apelike lope. He attempts to run to the front and then slip into a more stealthy creep as the approach their prey.

Ghostwalker is attempting to run ahead and then be sneaky.


Edgar nods in agreement with the plan and forms up with his party, <<Not me>> he says to Ghoswalker before he runs ahead to be sneaky, Ragabash gotta Rabagash, <<ready>> he says and growls excitedly, waiting for the next command, aware of his place in the task, a competent fighter but not much of a tactician, able to take a punch, and able to heal, so he will do what he's told.


Alexa affords her cousin a crooked grin. <<Just using my Gaia-given brain, cuz,>> she says. The banter seems to be familiar. Rather than rile her up, it actually seems to settle her down a notch. <<I know it's hard for a big strong full moon like you, but you should try it sometime!>>
Her eyes dart ahead, keeping an eye out for this glowing ball of balefire... though she trusts Addison's eyes to spot it before she ever has any hope to.


Abigale's fur seemed to lower as they moved away from the clouds of smoke. She snorted once and took up her position in the rear next to Edgar and behind Alexa. She seemed to be calming down and seemed more relaxed by only a small margin. Her leadership already having a little effect on her mind as she was now in a pack, even if only temporarily.


Edgar watches the banter, like it's a game whose rules are a little beyond him, listening and quietly repeating parts of the conversation to himself in low, quiet, broken Garou, limited by his form.


Ashlynn keeps her pace steady, letting Addison easily take o the front to do the scouting. A look back and she wrinkles her muzzle up, waving Alexa back. Disliking their rear being full of squishies and exposed. Whether the Fostern listens to the Cliath Ahroun or not is not going to slow her down. It's a suggestion, not an order, really. Goal oriented, Ashlynn keeps to a steady pace that is meant to cover ground quickly without seeming rushed - accounting for the slowest among them when setting the pace.


The long, flat expanse of the freeway unfurls under trotting paws. The clouds swirl around the not-quite-a-pack, making the eyes sting somewhat. There is no sign of a glowing ball of annoyance, though they do pass another cluster of smoky banes as they go.


Taking the scouting position, Ghostwalker sniffs around and searches for signs of their prey, trying to stay hidden from the notice of the lesser Banes.
 

<<The Cliaths have a lot of opinions about where I am in the marching order,>> says Alexa with a wry note of amusement. Her eyes scan the cloud, and her nose wrinkles a bit. Still no sign of the Furmling. She glances to Abigale's now bipedal form, then down to the Hispo. Still close enough that she could intercede, with them right on her heels, she reckons. She stays in position, following Ashlynn, feeling the weaverish tapestry of a walkway beneath her massive paws.


Abigale's bipedal Crinos crunched along with them. This form still made her feel a little less uncomfortable. But here it was better to be ready for a fight then to not be. The cliath had a plan for how to possibly attack this. Though she didn't know where the spirit was. She'd know more once it was found. The weaker and less experienced pack members would be in the back where it was slightly safer. She could handle herself in a scrap and she was also here to keep Edgar safe. She wasn't sure if he could fight. "If we find it, I have a plan on how to face it" She said, growling at the bane spirits a little as they moved away from them. "This place has awful air..."


There is currently still no sign of the furmling. The cloud extends over a mile into the distance - it could be anywhere. Given there are pattern spiders repairing the damage, it is quite difficult to track where the furmling might have gone, since it is flying and the only trail was those little drops causing pitting in the roads. Ashlynn manages to spot one or two, but they look quite old, easily a day or so since the damage was dealt.


<<Going to let us in on the plan before we get there, or wait til we're in the middle of the fight?>> Ashlynn chuffs. Unlike Addison, she makes no bones about being where she is and doing what she is doing. weaving here and there to search for sign, she pauses long enough to rub a claw-tip in one of the pits in the road, then moves along to the next, ears pricked forward.


<<Philodox, middle of pack>>, Edgar, asks with a wolfy grin and a shudder in his shoulders by way of laugh, but he makes no movo to change his position. <<Air bad>> he says and nods at Abigale <<help fight?>> he asks, trying to relate the two statements. But he has no actual plan, wondering what the plan could be.


Ghostwalker seems to be having little luck finding the Bane in question. He tries to loop around and meet back up with the hunting-pack. <<"No luck?">> He bwoofs at the others. As he approaches the group he seems to look directly at their Galliard. <<"It may be hiding... Maybe you can flush it out?">> 
 

Abigale nodded once to her "When we find it, we will encircle it. Addison and you engage, Alexa goes in next then myself and Edgar swing to get it caught up. No escape and we take it down. Like hunting big deer" She growled ou, limbering forward. "The rest of us pin it so you and Alexa and Addison can kill it. Make sense?" She asked then nodded to Edgar "Yes you help fight. We need to strike as one"


Forged-in-Flames glances to Ghostwalker, then shakes her head. <<I've not learned that Gift yet,>> she says simply, nose still curled up from the all-pervading stink that surrounded them. She needed a ritual cleansing and an evening in the light of the caern's fires after this, and the slight curl to her lips suggests that the stink is worse than she's used to from the city's umbra.

<<Does anybody else have a means to track this thing?>> she asks openly, her Galliard tongue handling the High Tongue with all the eloquence it can. <<Eyes and ears are turning up tragically little. We need a new approach.>>


Abigale shook her head a few times "No I cannot. I can speak to the spirits. I am not adept at hunting the Wyrm"


<<What I am seeing is a day or so old. Maybe longer. Are we certain this is the right place?>> Ashlynn asks, looking towards some of the smoke spirits and gesturing. <<If I break one, can you make it talk, Theurge?>>


<<Hunted Wyrm before>> Edgar says to Abigale and sniffs the air <<Wyrm smell everywhere, no track, no scat; find>>


"That is what the weaver spirit said. I could speak to the bane spirits. We could attempt to break one. What's one more layer of corruption removed?" She asked while looking to the others around her. "I would be loathed to admit it but I may have messed up a little. I assumed the work to the bridge was recent." She rubbed the back of her head. A little bit of a black mark on her leading. She was trying at least!


As it happens, there are still some hoglings in view. A cluster of three, rolling and wisping along, on the other side of the freeway. They are paying no attention to the Garou as of yet.


Alexa's snarling fades, and her head turns to the Theurge thoughtfully. She nods in acknowledgement of her admission of fault, and then takes a moment to center herself - easier said than done when the rot of the Wyrm's corruption burns its way into her spiritual lungs, and the quarry seems long gone. She holds a hand to her chest, two fingers pointed up the sky.
After holding this pose for a few moments - hand to chest, her other hand holding the rosewood staff - she lets out a slow exhale and opens her eyes.

<<We ask more spirits,>> she says, nodding to the Theurge. <<You did a good job on the last one. I believe in you.>>


<<Mistakes happen, still foes to slay>> Edgar says in a series of growls and yips, supportive even in his Direwolf form.


Ghostwalker squats down on his haunches to contemplate the young Theurge's plan. Eventually he gives a hesitant nod. <<"Be careful,">> he warns the younger Uktena. <<"Evil spirit... deceptive.>> He looks at the banes himself, suddenling coming to a conclusion about something himself. Apparently the Ragabash had an idea. The Crinos then bobs his head in a nod. <<"I'll go with you...">> 
 

Ashlynn stops and looks towards the little cluster of spirits, then back to the others. Ears slick back along her skull in a reflection of irritation. After a moment, she turns to watch any potential weaver spirits - looking for sign of movement. If they are following the cloud, then they would be repairing the work behind it, and thus, where they move towards might be the right direction.


Abigale would listen to them as she nodded to Ghostwalker. "You do the talking on this one. I am not well versed enough to speak with Banes. Please take point but I will help if I can" She said, moving a little behind Addison.


The Ragabash puts the slyest coyest smile on his face, trying to project as much sleeze into his Crinos shape as possible. He slithers up to the banes, speaking the tongue of spirits. <<"Hey there... friends...">> He flashes a little bit of tooth and fang. <<"Do you perhaps know who could teach me... the Gift of Balefire.">> Perhaps they'd give into their inclinations to try and tempt a "foolish" and "power hungry" Garou. <<"To make my enemies suffer.">>
 

The three hoglings burble and roil in thought, muttering amongst themselves and giving the slinking ragabash some sly, sidelong looks. Shapes appear in the rising fumes above them, accompanied by the sound of hissing and spitting, like water dropped onto a hot rock.

SPIRIT SPEECH TRANSLATION: Wise wolf, seeking such strength. We know one who might. But how do we know you are worthy?

Edgar has literally no idea what Addison's plan is, because he doesn't speak Spirit Tongue. And it's probably a good thing too, while he'd have no problem with lying to a hogling, he just isn't a good liar. But he watches, watching the hoglings in case they have any treachery planned.


Abigale would look to Addison then to the hoglings. She didn't say anything to him as she was letting him handle it. But she did back him up if he needed it.


Forged-in-Flames' eyes go wide, and then slowly, a grin creeps onto her face, and a look of respect for Ghostwalker. She's clearly taking mental notes as she watches him, perhaps for a later retelling of the Ragabash's cleverness... and then her eyes pivot to the hissing and spitting forms, her free hand pivoting to hold the bo staff now.

Not seeing any spiders, ash swings her big head towards the little cluster of banes spirit, lips curling back from her teeth, working her tongue against them.


<<Must learn tribe stick biting>> Edgar says, trying to convey 'Ishkakku' in Garou in Hispo.


<<"Not worthy?">> The Ragabash chuffs. He taps his muzzle with a claw, peeling back his lips to reveal his Crinos teeth. <<"Weeeeeeeell, I suppose I could make myself even stronger... by gobbling up one of you three...">> He makes an exagerated motion of licking his teeth and peering at the hogglings as if trying to select which one he would make his dinner. He tries to project a perverse and carnal hunger into his gestures in the face of these evil spirits. <<"I'm not strong enough now? You really wish to... test me?">>
 

The shift in the no-moon's demeanour leads to a little nervousness on the part of the hoglings, and they make pacifying noises, the slow rumble of clouds bearing thunder in their words. They flatten slightly, similar to the ones before, splitting out from three into four.

SPIRIT SPEECH TRANSLATION:  No! No no. We think you are wise and strong. But Li-.. um, our friend who might teach you, he might not.


Patience grows thin, the Ahroun getting antsy with trying to *talk* to thee things and not getting very far. <<Just eat the fucking thing.>> She growls lowly, tongue still working along her teeth.


 <<Tell me then... where is the one that can teach me? Why does he hide?">> The Ragabash growls, letting his heckles down only a millimeter. <<"I grow... impatient. I am excited to learn this power and test it for myself.">> His jaws give a little snap. 


Edgar lets out a primal snarl, echoing the Ahroun's, signalling equal parts impatience and anticipation of the fight. Hoping that, since he can't lie, hopefully he can at least intimidate.


Quivering like they're made of jello rather than roiling smoke, the talkative hogling sputters something with the sound of the wind moaning through a canyon, the shapes and images in the smoke rising from it becoming more erratic as the group of Garou get nasty.

SPIRIT SPEECH TRANSLATION: Place of burning water! Where the burning water is put into metal things! Along the long flat towards the sky!


Abigale heard that and let out a small sigh and a bit of a whine. Of course it was the way they came from. Of course it was...of course the Weaver spirit was dumb. Abigale let out a low, long and very irate growl.


 <<"I see...">> The Ragabash growls. <<"You'd better not have me running in circles... If you have... I know your scent.">> He nods and slithers away from the stinky group of banes, scratching his snout. As he approaches the pack again he complains. <<"Like huffing paint... but not nearly as fun.">> He he gives Abigale an appreciative but reassuring growl as they approach the group. <<"Learn from mistakes... but don't learn to kick yourself for them.">> He tries to impart a bit of encouraging advice. <<"Spirits... tricky... or mad... Not it is in the wyld-lands.">>

Ghostwalker looks up to the hunting-pack. <<"Where burning water is put into metal things... along the flat towards the sky...">> He relates what the Banes had told him in a contemplative tone as if he's trying to puzzle out the cryptic spirit-riddle himself. 
 

Forged-in-Flames looks like she's ready to step in and speak up - when Ghostwalker returns, victorious. She gives him a cautious but respectful glance with a slow nod. <<"Spirit riddles,">> she says. <<"Clever work, Ragabash. Distasteful, but incredibly clever. What sense can you make of the directions?">>


Riddles on top of misdirection. Cracks-The-Skull bristles up and starts towards the four little spirits, hands flexing into fists, then spreading in a display of murderous claws. <<I say we kill three and take one with us to lead the way.>>


Edgar nods at Forged's words. <<Ghoswalker lie well>> he says it with a note of respect and approval, lying to an evil spirit is not a breach of the litany and while he, himself, is not equipped for it; Luna blessed the Rabash for the task, so he respects it for what it is.



Ghostwalker contemplates for a few moments, he grins at Alexa's remark about the distastefulness of his action. His skinny Crinos chest swells with pride at the complement. <<"Up on the ridge... inside the cloud.">> His Garou jaws gnash. There was no word for '7-11' in Garou speech. He tries to shape the word instead with wolf jaws, and one could barely make it out through the snarl: "Gashhhh shtashion." 

The Ragabash looks to the Ahroun to contemplate the strategy. <<"More would coalesce in the hour. Too much filth here. Need more powerful cleansing.">> He looks to their Galliard. <<"Should howl... to alert the other packs we found something... not too much detail though. Never know what might be listening.">> 


From the far distance, south along the freeway - the direction the other group went in - keen ears can hear a howl of victory in a deep, gravelly tone. No specific words, just a sense of victory over an enemy. Though, whatever they've been victorious in, the cloud is still very much present.


Abigale would crane her head up and listen to the howling coming from the way ahead "We should hurry. They finished their task...damn we really gaffed"


The howl from the south is just another layer of irritation. Leaving the banes alone, Ashlynn turns and starts to stalk towards the north, dropping to all-fours, taking on her hispo, hackles high and ears back.


<<No fail, hunt not over>> Edgar says, trying to console his quasi-pack mate. <<Hunt with bigger numbers>>. He waits to see if anyone else howls back and, if not, honors their kill with a howl of encouragement.


The Gallard's eyes light up, and her ears swivel as she hears the howl. She belts out a long howl of acknowledgement of the other pack's glory, full-throated and deep. Then the Crinos wolf pants, and she turns her head towards the direction of the gas station, and this one, she puts fire into. A second howl follows her first, and THIS one is a Call to Hunt. The Call to Hunt comes out stronger - deep and resonant, laced with the eagerness of the hunt, invocative of glory to be earned and foes to be slain. Come North, along the freeway, her directions would say. It's a simple enough direction - without betraying exactly where they would be going.
And then she would lower her head, bowing it in a reverent gesture. <<"Senior pack should know where to find us,">> she says.

Abigale would shift down into her Lupus form. She took a moment to rouse herself from the malaise of her failure. She steadied herself and nodded "Right. Then lets get to this station made of gas. Onward pack!" She called, trying to spur her pack onward to try and double back towards the gas station.


Edgar nudges Abigale in a friendly manner with his snout <<Not fail>> he says again, repeating his statement <<Hunt still on>>, he says it and continues following in formation.


<<"You did not gaffe, young Theurge,">> Alexa adds thoughtfully, looking to Abigale. <<"You spoke with the spirits well. We simply asked the wrong questions. These things take time, and trails may lead forward and back, and be winding.">>
At the order to move out, she hesitates though. <<"Let's hear what the Adren pack has to say. I want to know if they intend to join us. It would be foolhardy to run off and engage after we just invited them to a hunt.">>


There is an almost immediate reply from the south that most here would recognise as from the Talesinger, Protects-the-Fallen. <<You're showing off again! On our way!>>


Abigale would have rushed up closer towards the gas station with her pack, stopping just shy of the station itself. Her breath was hot as she had been running alongside Ashlynn in an attempt to keep up. "Alright...is this the station of gas?"



<<"Alright,">> says Alexa, ears perking up at Sandy's howl. An amused smirk crosses the Fostern's face at what she hears, and then she falls into line behind the Theurge. <<"They're on their way. Let's see what we're dealing with here.">>

Eventually they arrive at the gas station, and the Galliard takes a crouch, nose still slightly scrunched from the bad air in this cloud. She looks out towards the gas station, trying to keep sight of the bane, but swivels an ear towards the south, keeping an ear out for the Adren pack.


<<Smells bad, but all firewater places are of the wyrm>> Edgar says it with a certainty, still loping on all fours in Hispo, <<Always prey for hunt in nests like this, nose down eyes up?>> he asks, as much to repeat his mantra as to check for the strategy, repeating it again quietly to himself <<nose down, eyes up>>


Ghostwalker grins broadly as Forged-in-Flames lets out a Howl across the scarred Umbral landscape. When the return howl comes the Crinos lets out wolfish chuff followed by a whining hound-like chuckle at the reply. <<"The Adrens want first blood!">> He suspects. <<"First share of the kill to the greatest in station... and more Glory.">> The Trickster grins and starts loping in the direction of their prey, his Crinos body using its long arms to lope like a gorilla, attemping to keep up with the other wolves.


Cracks-The-Skull slows once they get closer to the station, rearing up from hispo to full crinos effortlessly, shifting seamlessly from one to the next. Massive, she's mostly a bottomless black, with a white star on her chest that trails a comet's tail to the bottom of her sternum, and moonlight dappling is scattered across her shoulders and back - impossible to mistake her for anything but a Fury of the Laskaris line. <<Of course they do.>> Impatient, irritated, she hunkers onto her haunches and rakes her claws along the asphalt, leaving gouges in the surface, ears slicked back tight to her skull.


The place 'where the burning water is put into metal things!', also known as a gas station, sits just a little bit further north than the northwestern edge of the cloud. Or at least, this is the closest one in the direction that was given. Like most buildings that have been there a while, it is strongly woven into the fabric of the umbra, the threads of silver-grey webbing seeming slightly shimmery, as if covered in a fine layer of oil slick. It is a standard 'forecourt and shop' arrangement, with spaces left waiting for cars that will never arrive, and the windows of the shop area covered by fine webbing.


<<First share greatest station>> Edgar says with a solemn nod, agreeing with Ghost wolf, <<Glory enough in doing things well>>. He's clearly aiming for encouraging, but landing somewhere in cryptic, his language limited by his choice of hunting form.


Abigale's eyes would look over at this burning water place. Her tongue stuck out as she gagged a little at the scent of the place. "Yes...this is the place. Alright pack...lets lay low and watch. Wait for the others to arrive then get a better look at this place. I wish we had found this place sooner. The honor and glory would have been hours...oh well" She snorted once.


Forged-in-Flames gives her cousin Cracks-the-Skull a sympathetic look, though her Crinos face does not wear it as well as her other forms. She can feel the anticipation boiling up inside her too, the full moon burning in her veins, the prospect of Glory near - but she paces herself. She nods when Edgar recites the Litany. She then adds, for emphasis, <<"Their experience guides us. They've earned it, and we will yet have opportunities to earn it for ourselves as well.">> 
Forged-in-Flames' eyes turning back to the Umbral image of the gas station. Though not in Hispo, the white markings on her Crinos form are similar enough - the resemblance is strong. Her nostrils flare, as though she could scent out the bane. But so far, no signs.

(Transition to a scene with both northern and southern group. Log continues in: 2020-05-25_TPC:_Scouting_a_Cloud,_Meeting_at_the_Gas_Station)