bearing witness.

[Wyrmbreaker] It's just past dusk when Wyrmbreaker and the yet-deedname-less Cliath meet in the Caern. Red still stains the western sky, each sunset one step closer to a fast-approaching winter. Even in summer, Chicago is frequently stormwrought, but as the days cool the nature of those storms change. The winter coming off the lake is stiff now, and distinctly cooler than it has been the last few months.

Wyrmbreaker does not look dressed for a long journey. He's in sturdy clothes, perhaps a cut more utilitarian than his usual subtly fine gear: thick, durable jeans, a comfortable long-sleeve cotton tee, no logo, no name. His bag of talens is at his hip. Other than that, no visible provisions or preparations.

"Ready?" he asks when Christian joins him, and when the Fang indicates he is, the Lord lays his hand on the other's shoulder and finds his reflection in a small mirror he pulls from his pocket.


Lukas's spirit is startlingly strong for an Ahroun. He's a well-rounded beast, strong in mind and body and spirit: one supposes a Shadow Lord who's made it as far as he has wouldn't be anything but. The crossing is breathtakingly quick; the otherside bathed in the uncertain light of a sickle moon.

Storm clouds rumble in the sky. Their patron, never far.

"It's a bit of a run," Lukas says. "Sometimes farther, sometimes closer. It helps if you try to think of battle. Let's go."

The Ahroun drops forward, as though he'd tripped; as though he has no intention of keeping his balance. Before his hands hit the ground, they're paws. He lopes forward, a steady, ground-eating pace, a fast smooth trot that seems to lead northward.

[Christian del Piero] The subcliath Ahroun comes to the Caern when his alpha said he'd meet him. Like usual he's wearing clothes that were meant to get dirty. Work boots and jeans - both dedicated - and a t-shirt that will probably shred at some point. He goes through t-shirts like bath tissue. The chill in the air doesn't seem to bother him. His Rage is heavy even though the moon is thin. He'd said it's like his skin is on fire all the time. You can see it in his eyes when he's like this. Christian looks uncertain when asked if he's ready. He's never gone to an actual realm before. Just the Penumbra. But he stands up straight and nods that he is. Then they shoot across the Gauntlet. It stuns him for a few seconds. Like he's just been thrown into a cold lake. Christian takes a deep breath and blinks. His alpha's voice comes to him. They're going to run. It helps if they think of battle. That's all he ever seems to think about. Christian says "Okay." A moment later he too shifts into a form made for travel. He lacks self control but he's an athlete's build and stamina. It isn't hard to keep up with the larger wolf.

[Wyrmbreaker] So they run.

Northward, first. They run out from the center of the caern, passing the ghostly images of those rusting hulks they've grown to know so well. Past other things, too, echoes of a bygone age. A collapsing hangar realmside is still in good repair here. They can hear the distant sound of saws and pneumatic drills, machinery, industry. Here and there, a spray of sparks fly in memory of some long-gone welding station. And even farther back, even longer ago: the memories of the prairies this city is built on. The plains and the fields of the north american continent.

They pass all that. They pass the borders of the caern, and all at once the world is a colder, deader place, the ground dull beneath the dim moonlight, flashing away beneath their strong paws.

For the first few minutes -- or perhaps it's hours -- Wyrmbreaker says very little. He runs, sometimes slowing to put his nose to the ground; sometimes dashing straight ahead as though he knows where he's going. Once or twice he stops altogether and looks around. He's no Theurge. He has no intuition for these things. Travel in the Umbra for him is a learned thing, and like a musician with no talent but much dedication, he's gotten passably good at it. He'll never, ever be as good as even the lowliest Theurge.

Eventually Christian realizes he doesn't recognize the landscape around them anymore. Somehow the lake has fallen away from their right. The flatness to their left has wrinkled up into foothills. The ground beneath their feet begins to slope, then, and they're climbing a mountain. There's no mountain in Chicagoland. Not like this, anyway: soaring, jagged, like a section of the Rockies transplanted.

Running is more of a labor now. Wyrmbreaker presses doggedly on, his pace slowing a notch, his tongue lolling as he falls back to run shoulder-to-shoulder with his packmate.

"Looks like Luna wants us to take the long road tonight. Ever been this far in the Umbra before?"

[Christian del Piero] He misses a lot lately. It's like when he first changed. When he was young and alone and frightened. He's not frightened or alone anymore. He's still young though. And there are days when he can't hear anything but his blood roaring in his ears. It means he misses things like music or other people talking. When his vision is red he doesn't pay attention to what's right in front of him. It gets easier when he's doing something demanding. Like playing sports or tearing up concrete. That's when he notices what colour the leaves are or whether it's cold out. After a while Christian starts to look around as they run. And he's struck by what he sees. A few times he trails behind Lukas...not because he's getting tired but because he's staring at something. Then he has to race to catch up.

When Lukas falls back he can see wariness in Christian's eyes. He's not afraid. But it answers Lukas' question before he even asks it. The Fang digs in his claws and starts the hard climb up the mountain.

"Never."

[Wyrmbreaker] "I remember my first time in the True Umbra. My mentor was a Philodox, so of course he didn't take me to the Battleground Realm first. We went to the Shadow Lord homelands to learn the true laws of the tribe. We must have run for weeks. Moonpath after moonpath, so far away that I started feeling like my life on earth was the dream and this was the reality. I don't think I've ever felt more out of place than I did on that journey."

Even this slower pace is strenuous, the way they're climbing now. Wyrmbreaker pants between words, unashamed. It's a natural reaction. Not a weakness but a sign of strength: indication of his body's ability to adapt, adjust, ramp itself up in response to stress. The stones beneath their paws are hard and dry, but not cold. There's no snow on this mountain.

"It gets easier, though. We're Ahroun, so this sort of thing doesn't come easily to us. Some Ahrouns think it means we're not meant for the Umbra at all, but that's not true. We're half-spirit just like any other Garou. We belong here as much as any Theurge, and we need it just as much. Because there are wonders out here, Christian. Things that we can't see in the Realm, that remind us of why we're even fighting this endless war.

"I've met Garou who have walked on the face of the sun itself. Met him in his shining citadel. I've met Garou who have faced the spirit of their own weakness, doubt or fear in the Deep Umbra and conquered it. You go out far enough and almost anything becomes possible.[/i]"

The black werewolf's tongue lolls as he laughs, "But we'll just start with the Battleground Realm today."

[Christian del Piero] He keeps quiet a lot of the time. It isn't because he doesn't have anything to say...or that he doesn't trust his packmates. He's the youngest person in the pack. He's the lowest ranked. He didn't even make it to high school. His wardrobe is an affront to Falcon. Katherine has to nag him to clip his finger nails or trim his hair...if she doesn't do it herself. There are a lot of things that makes him feel separate. He's opened up to Lukas and Katherine and Sinclair before. About different things. Mostly he just listens. Like right now.

Still. If he's going to be in a pack he can't just listen all the time. He does that now too...but when Lukas is done talking he's quiet. Thoughtful. Trying to put his thoughts together. He too breathes heavy. "My father told me stories about the Umbra. Took me a few times after my Rite of Passage...but we never went far. He was always busy."

[Wyrmbreaker] [oh look, i totally forgot an italics in the last post *LOL*] The pale-eyed wolf's head swings toward his packmate, ears up, curious. "Tell me about your father," he says simply.

The path grows ever steeper. The cloud layer is far above; nevertheless, they can hear the rumbling of distant thunder at the mountain's peak, as though a storm of epic proportions awaits them there. Wyrmbreaker's pace doesn't flag, though. He leads them upward. After what, what did they have to fear from a storm? They are the storm.

[Christian del Piero] This question doesn't get asked a lot. Probably because he doesn't mention his father a lot. When he does all the Silver Fang Galliards are keen to hear more about him. But they know more than Christian does. He looks over their heads for a second. His Rage doesn't show itself as much in this form. It's there in his eyes...but it belongs there. It's part of him. He couldn't shift before he knew his Rage. Now it doesn't fit the body he was born with.

"His name was Endless Strike, Voice of the Dead. He was the Grand Elder of the Sept of the Painted Sky outside of LA. Met my mother in Arkansas when they were both young but didn't stay. Said he was really young and stupid back then. After my First Change he found me. Said there were stories all over about me. I kept running away any time someone from the tribe would find me and try to take me in. I didn't run away from him though. He took me back to the Sept and helped me for a while." He pauses. "He was murdered last autumn."

[Wyrmbreaker] Lukas might ask, is that why you're angry all the time? -- except he knows things like anger, like rage, can't be neatly pinned down to one single cause. Except he heard Christian when he said he ran away all the time, even before his father died. Even before he knew he had a father at all.

There's a quiet, interrupted only by their steady panting, the sound of their claws scrabbling over stone, over loose rock. "I'm sorry. My parents are kin. I've always thought I was lucky in that regard. My mate's mother was a mighty Ahroun of my Tribe. She died when Dani&+269;ka was a teenager. I can't imagine what that's like. For her or for you.

"I saw your father once," Wyrmbreaker adds. He doesn't say met; that wouldn't be true. "When my sister moved out to L.A. for law school, I went to the Sept of the Painted Sky to present her to the Shadow Lord elder there. And to demonstrate that she was cared for and that I would hold anyone who hurt her accountable, I suppose." He's laughing at himself now. "Because of course anyone would fear a Cliath barely past his Rite of Passage.

"I didn't meet him though. I just glimpsed him from afar. He looked like an honorable wolf."

A few more paces, and then there's a shoulder of rock that Wyrmbreaker clambers onto. They're closer to the summit now, and the rumble of thunder is louder. The larger wolf sits there on the ledge a moment, his body language indicating a break.

"Why did you run from your tribe before your father came for you?"

[Christian del Piero] Saying what happened doesn't hurt. He doesn't really think about his father when he just recites. He doesn't say things like "He taught me how to play chess even though sometimes I'd get mad and flip the table over" or "He taught me how to drive when I got old enough". He doesn't tell Lukas that his father was respected and hated just about equally. That he looked up to him once he got over being angry at him. Still...when Lukas says he looked honourable that does hurt. Because he stops and thinks about it. The answer Lukas gets is thought...not spoken. He was.

Then they're resting. Christian doesn't sit though. He gets his breath back quickly...but he keeps pacing. Then Lukas is asking more questions. His eyes flash. He looks away once. Then back. "Didn't do it on purpose. Things happen...I get upset...I black out. Wake up a long way away from where I started. Most of the time I don't go back."

[Wyrmbreaker] Wyrmbreaker tilts his head as his eyes -- so pale a blue they're the colorless brilliance of stars and ice in this form -- study Christian another moment. Then his tongue laps out, flashes across his black muzzle.

They are both such paragons of their tribe in this form. One black as pitch, heavy through the shoulders and chest, not so much as a dash of grey or white or red or brown on him. The other smaller, sleeker, pure white like his father before him.

"Fair enough," Wyrmbreaker says, and then turns his muzzle summit-ward. "Do you hear that? We're close." His head swings back. "That's not thunder, but battle. All the battles ever fought." There's an undeniable edge of anticipation in his tone; the excitement of blood and carnage. "It can be overwhelming at first. Stay close to me and keep to the paths. If we get separated, look to the signposts -- they'll point you out. Or you can just let yourself die. That'll throw you right out of the realm."

He stands again. This is a bark, short and -- yes, joyous: "Come on! Race you to the top!"

[Christian del Piero] His ears perk at the sounds of battle. Lukas' anticipation makes Christian stop pacing and move to stand beside him. Like he's getting ready to charge to the summit. He listens. Or tries to. Hearing that it can be overwhelming isn't the same as knowing that it will be. He nods his understanding. Looks displeased at the idea of letting himself die to get home. Which is probably surprising seeing as he has quite the collection of death scars on his body.

Lukas challenges him to race. And Christian - who looks older than 18 some days - actually grins. Wags his tail. Yips the Garou equivalent of "You're on!" A second later he's in a dead sprint.

[Wyrmbreaker] And they're off, the two wolves sprinting for the summit, large paws scattering pebbles, straining for every stride. For a while they're shoulder to shoulder, and then Wyrmbreaker missteps and skids down a few yards with a yelp, but it's not pain, only surprise, and a moment later he's laughing and letting out a high bark, scrabbling upward again.

It's Christian that crests the ridge first. It's like no summit he's ever seen before. All at once the world shifts around him -- an endless plain under a sky the color of iron. Look behind him, and the cliff that should be there is gone. There's only more flatland behind him. Here and there fires rage, smoke sifting up toward the skies, the clouds lit from below in orange and red.

The barrier of the mountainside is gone. Noise washes over him. Every boom of what sounded like thunder turns out to be artillery: from the primitive rumble of cavemen rolling rocks down slopes to the postmodern deep concusses of nuclear detonations. Below that, he can hear the rest now -- the screaming of horses and men, the clashing of weaponry, the howling of werewolves, the rattling of tanks over rubble, the roaring of bear-men, lion-men, dragons, beasts that have no name.

The landscape is populated, but his eyes can't seem to focus. Then he realizes it's not his eyes after all. It's the scene before him, shifting second by second. Look once and he sees Romans in Gaul, tight regiments against screaming barbarians. Look again and the same spot is occupied now by half-grown wolf pups razzling each other, play that somehow turned serious, that became a burgeoning struggle of dominance. Look again and those wolves are back, older now. Brothers and bitter rivals, they die on each other's klaives.

There's no sense of taint, though. There's chaos, there's warfare, there's noise and violence, but even the Wyrm creatures here don't feel dark. It doesn't feel as though any given battle must be won or lost, or some terrible outcome would occur. It simply feels ...

like battle. The very essence thereof. The pounding blood, the sounds, the smells, the jarring impact of combatant to combatant.

Wyrmbreaker is beside him then. He's in Hispo now. There's a path beneath their feet, hardpacked earth trod by who knows how many pairs of feet. He bumps shoulders with Christian encouragingly, then leads the way forward.

[Christian del Piero] He wants to remember this. So when Christian flies ahead of his alpha and emerges at the top of the mountain...he keeps his eyes open. There's too much to take in all at once. He tries. His eyes move quickly. His muscles ache to join in. Unlike when he encounters a Wyrmling there is no sharp stink of decay driving him to frenzy. A few times he looks back to see where Lukas is. His tail is wagging. Come on come on come on it seems to say. But his excitement is coloured with nervousness. He doesn't know what to expect. Christian was distracted. He hasn't shifted from lupus when Lukas bumps him. The huge Shadow Lord nearly knocks the Fang over. He recovers fast...shifting to his larger form as he trots after his alpha.

[Wyrmbreaker] This might be the first time Lukas has actually seen Christian excited, or happy. It's unexpected. It's infectious, and after a few paces Wyrmbreaker starts running again -- heavier in this form and slower, bounding along at a loose canter.

They pass the Siege of Jerusalem, Balian commanding from the walls. They pass the Battle of Britain, the people going to ground, their animal instincts resurfacing, primitive and ancient and so very useful. They pass a challenge circle in some wintry Sept somewhere, and Wyrmbreaker whuffs for Christian's attention, and when he looks he sees

a younger Wyrmbreaker, very young, maybe as young as Christian is now, grim and resolute and full of his own determined stoicism, standing alongside three other Shadow Lord pups.

"My Rite of Passage," Wyrmbreaker chuffs. "Don't worry. Totally uninteresting," and they're past it.

They come to a signpost. A stake driven into the earth, as high as the sky. It's moving, constantly shuffling, the signs rustling and flapping like so many wings. Every time they rearrange there's an instant when the carvings make no sense, and then they resolve. English, or Garou glyphs -- it depends on which is more familiar to Christian, closer to his spirit. Great battles, famous or infamous, seem to recur again and again; their signs are easier to find. Others, obscure, minor, take effort.

Wyrmbreaker sits before the signpost, eyes flickering to keep up.

"Any of them look interesting to you?"

[Christian del Piero] Lukas says his Rite of Passage is uninteresting. The way Christian stares at it a few seconds longer than his alpha does says otherwise. It's like he wants to know if Lukas was like he was. If he was wild and half insane or if he was brave and strong. If they have anything in common besides their moon. If they do he doesn't see it in the few seconds he watches the Shadow Lords. He looks away. They continue on.

When they reach the sign post Christian focuses. There are too many options. And there's a question in his heart. There's a doubt. It's going to be hard to find. It didn't happen long ago...but he has no memory of it. And the only other person who was there won't talk about it. He's quiet for a long time. Then he asks "Can we watch what happened the last time I raged back? In the park?"

[Wyrmbreaker] At that, Wyrmbreaker grows quiet. His grin fades; his mouth closes. He turns from the rippling, shuffling signpost and faces Christian.

"The truth is," he says, "I brought you here because I wanted to eventually show you what happened that night, if and when you felt ready. I'll tell you now, Christian: it won't be easy to watch. And ... it might make you lose time again.

"But if you want to watch, I'll go with you. And if you black out and wake up somewhere new, this pack will come find you."

[Christian del Piero] The Fang got less excited when the nature of this place sank in. Any battle...even a Rite of Passage that you think doesn't matter...it's got to matter if it's still here playing out. So what happened to Greg has to be out here somewhere. And he knows himself. He knows that what happened was so bad he blacked out. But no one can tell him what exactly happened. It's pretty selfish. There are millions of other battles he could be watching.

But Lukas says that's why he brought him here. Christian looks over at him. Sharp. His nostrils flare. There is little human in his eyes even when he -looks- human. But there's no suspicion or wariness in them. Not directed at Lukas anyway. He looks at his alpha for several seconds. Like he's about to change his mind. But then he woofs. "I need to see."

[Wyrmbreaker] "Okay."

With that, Wyrmbreaker turns back to the signpost. For a long time he sits there, staring at the signs, focusing. Thinking. Trying to bring to mind the battle he wants, the one Christian wants --

no, needs to see.

"It's like coming here," he whuffs softly, almost absently. "When you find a signpost, you put your mind to what you mind. You think about it as hard as you can, and then..."

The signs flashing and whirling about the post begin to take on a certain pattern. Over and over, Christian del Piero appears on it. Or perhaps simply a string of glyphs that seems to represent him: glyphs like youth and rage and uncertainty and strength and guilt and fear. Most of the battles there make no sense to Wyrmbreaker. Christian would recognize them, though. His own Rite of Passage. The night his father died. And a dozen others, a hundred others, minor scuffles that he's almost forgotten, deadly combat that nearly took his life.

All of a sudden the black direwolf rears up on his hind legs. He slams his forepaws onto one of the signs whirling its way down the post -- pins it with both paws, joints stiff, the way a wolf might pin a wounded bird or an insect or a rodent.

The signpost points west. It reads:

Christian del Piero
Thirty Second Silence
v.
Skull Pigs

[Christian del Piero] He's not sure about this. He's not sure about a lot of things. The night they met Lukas got in his face...asked him if he was always so confused. It had pissed him off. But there was part of him that seemed to know what he was trying to do. Just like there's part of him that knows something happened that day. People have told him what happened. It's not the same as seeing it. And he's smart enough that he knows he can't accept it until he sees it. Just being told something...that's not how he learns. He isn't fluent in the Garou glyph language. All he sees is English. It keeps him from knowing what the universe thinks of him.

After a while Lukas pins down the location. Christian's ears flick. He tries to stop the low whine before it leaves his throat. He can't. Once he makes it he seems to get his fear out of his system. Or else just ignores it. He raises his head and starts off through the roaring realm. Sticks close to Lukas. It's easy to get distracted here.

[Wyrmbreaker] Kindness is not something often attributed to Shadow Lords. But there is a certain kindness in Wyrmbreaker, and it was kindness that he wanted to bring Christian here; to show him a place where he could release his rage without endangering himself pointlessly. A place where he could train. A place where an Ahroun could have fun, and steep himself in the glory and chaos and noise of battle.

It's not all glory and chaos and noise, though. Coming in, they saw brothers killing each other. They saw nuclear bombs dropping on Hiroshima. That's war, too.

And Lukas is not all kindness. He is a Shadow Lord in the end. He can be stern. He can be unrelenting. He can be utterly ruthless, and maybe they'll pass that battle, which wasn't even really a battle, where he held a Silver Fang kinsman's head underwater for daring to sully himself with drug addiction, for daring to try to bring that into Katherine's bed. Maybe they'll pass that other not-battle where Lukas, who Christian seems to think is all honor and nobility and the High Road, clamped his hand over his own kinsman's mouth and nose, choked off his air, asphyxiated him until he was nearly dead. For daring to spread slander. For daring to insinuate that Wyrmbreaker had killed his way to the top.

Or maybe they'll pass that battle between Wyrmbreaker and Christian's own tribesman. Dirge of the Covenant; shining-blooded Galliard. That one had lied, too. That one had spread slander, too. That one is stone cold and six feet under now.

A Philodox would argue there was just cause, each time. But that does not change that every time, retribution was swift and utterly brutal.


So: there's no hesitation in him now. The action is committed, and he'll see it through. Wyrmbreaker paces firmly in the direction the signpost indicated, and he stays to the path now. Doesn't look left, doesn't look right. Doesn't look at all the war raging around him, the mortar shells exploding inches away, the arrows flying, the blood splattering. Somehow none of that affects them. None of it, even when it seems impossible that they should avoid it, ever touches them.

Ahead, now, the chaos is thinning. The noise is falling away little by little. The skies are darkening, and the hardpacked dirt path beneath their feet is changing to grass and concrete: a winding path through greenery. Grant Park on the night of August 25th, 2010: mimicked so perfectly that Christian might think he's gone back in time.

Then he sees himself. And Gregory. Or emanations, gathered spirit energies that have assumed their forms.

Evenin', stranger, the Gregory-shade says to the Christian-shade.

Beside the real Christian, Wyrmbreaker sits on his haunches. "If you've come only to see what happened," the Shadow Lord tells him, "then you must only watch. If you act, the emanations that echo your battle will react to you. And then you will change the course of things."

[Christian del Piero] The wonder is gone from his eyes. He isn't looking around like this realm is just one big fight waiting to happen. It's like he's going to his execution. Or he knows what he's going to find once they get to the 25th of August. He doesn't shake or whine again. Christian keeps his head up.

Once they get there he stands beside Lukas. Even when he sits. He listens. And he nods. He understands. He's been able to control himself before. And other times he hasn't. The Fang shifts to his birth form. Like that will make him think before he throws himself at whatever hurts Greg...whether it's himself or a BSD or whatever else the Wyrm throws at him. Lukas in hispo is bigger than Christian in homid. His shirt is gone. He's not sweaty even though they ran all that time. His eyes flash. All the tension that was hidden by fur is visible now. Christian grits his teeth. He's breathing heavy. He rubs his chest - the spot where his first battle scar is - like his shade did seconds ago. He remembers this conversation. He doesn't remember why he let the Wyrm in. He gulps as he tries to swallow the lump out of his throat. Something rustles in the bushes. The shades of the Fang and the Gnawer both miss it. Greg-shade says "Yeah, I'm alright" and Christian squeezes his eyes shut. He doesn't open them again until he hears his shade shifting. He's never seen what he looks like when this happens. It makes his blood run cold. "Cazzo," he curses.

[Wyrmbreaker] Wyrmbreaker sits silently now, pale eyes fixed on the scene before them.

They don't have to move. The world moves around them. They follow the shades of Christian and Gregory on the last night of Gregory's life. Crown Fountain floats by in the distance. They're leaving the path, straying into the darkness.

From their point of view, omniscient as gods, the Garou can see the skull pigs this time. Christian can see where they came from, how stealthily they crept up: all that bulk, all that fell muscle and tainted blood, moving on shockingly dainty hooves.

Beside Christian, the Shadow Lord's breathing is deep and even. Warmth emanates from him, and the faint, feral, musky scent of his fur. He doesn't move closer, nor try to offer his younger packmate some sort of physical contact, some sort of physical reassurance. He stays, though, and he bears witness.

[Christian del Piero] He didn't say he wanted to watch this. And anyone with a few of their senses left can tell he doesn't. There are lots of things he doesn't want to do that he does anyway. It would be easier to just stay in the dark. Or run away every time someone shines light on him. He's not here by himself. He tries to match his breathing to Lukas'. It works for about 2 seconds. And then his shade is attacking Greg's. The huge beasts - Christian has never seen one before - abandon their breakfast and charge at them. He knocks his friend to the ground to attack them. The ground thunders as the pigs run at them. Greg's shade shifts. The Fang pales.

"Why is he - " He knows why. Because he's his friend. Friends don't abandon their friends.

It happens almost too fast for Christian to follow. One of the monsters tears Greg-shade open in one hit. It takes 2 hits for the same thing to happen to Christian-shade. Only Christian-shade isn't stunned. He winces seeing all the blood and guts that were spilled in a few seconds. Crosses his arms over his chest. Lukas can feel the heat of his Rage burn higher as he forces himself to stay where he is. The subcliath growls.

(( WP -1 ))

[Wyrmbreaker] The truth is, they had a chance at the beginning. Numbers were even when they walked into combat. Gregory was weak, but he was a cunning wolf and a good healer. Christian was strong, but out of his mind. The skull pigs were brutal and stupid. The balance could have swung either way. It wouldn't have been easy, but there was a chance for victory.

That chance was gone seconds into the battle. Maybe it was sheer bad luck. Maybe it was lack of skill, or, on Christian's part, lack of wits. The skullpigs gut them both in an eyeblink, have them both nearly on the ground, guts spilling.

Christian's shade isn't stunned. He's beyond stun, beyond emotion, beyond anything except the need to feast on flesh. No cleansing fire in this Frenzy. No redemption of glory. Just endless, tainted hunger, raw and black. It is not the first time Christian has fallen prey to this kind of Frenzy. But the young Ahroun must know that he cannot make this a habit. Death after death, Thrall after Thrall -- it'll carve him up, core him out, leave him nothing but a savage, mindless husk of himself, wyrmridden.

Wyrmbreaker doesn't say it, though. And he doesn't turn away in disgust. He watches:

watches as Gregory's shade struggles to heal himself and his friend. Watches as the both of them survive blow after blow, impossibly, escaping the clutches of death time and again. It's a miracle Christian survived at all. It's a miracle Greg survived even as long as he did. But watching, it's clear to Lukas -- would perhaps be clear to Christian, too, if only he weren't so intimately involved, so deeply entangled -- that three seconds into the battle, they had already lost.

The rest is just sheer tenacity and refusal to die easily.

[Christian del Piero] His suspicions are confirmed. He didn't touch Greg after he knocked him to the ground. But he got him hurt. He wasn't there. Greg didn't run from battle even though it was basically him vs 2 hungry skull pigs vs an Ahroun in the thrall of the Wyrm. There was no teamwork. They couldn't communicate. When Greg healed him he had to be careful not to get in the way of his friend's claws. Christian-shade goes down first but he flies back to his feet snarling seconds later. Greg-shade isn't so lucky. And then he isn't just hurt. No one could survive the injury that killed 30 Second Silence. Christian looks as though he's just suffered the same blow. There is no expression on his face. It's all in his eyes. He's got to know that if he lets his derangement pull him under it's going to be the same thing over and over. He takes a shuddering breath. He can't believe he's still alive.

It isn't because he was the better Garou...or stronger...or smarter. It's because of the dark eyed man who comes out of nowhere and stops the skull pigs from eating both of them. If Christian attacks him now he'll be torn into pieces in seconds. He bristles with the need to attack the things that were responsible for this. But stopping himself leaves him no room to maintain his composure. He doesn't fall on his knees or sob. But he does cry...silent for a few seconds except for his breathing. Greg has been dead for almost 3 weeks and it's like it just happened.

"Vado a ucciderlo," he says. He wipes his face. It doesn't help. He shakes as the BSD and his pets walk off. His anguish is on his face now. He sounds like he's in physical pain. Pain in general makes him angry. He can't just ignore it like other people can. "Vado a fottuto ucciderlo! Siamo usciti di quello fottuto prigione insieme ed questo è come si muore?"

Christian's shade wakes up. His hand is in what's left of Greg's abdominal cavity. His eyes are dead as he uses his Rage to ignore his own spilled guts...his deflated ribs and ravaged arm...to drag his friend's body into the trees where they won't be found.

[Wyrmbreaker] If he were honest, Lukas would admit that he expected Christian to fly into a fugue again. To go dead-eyed and distant, or worse, run off into the chaos. Run through this battle and into the next, and the next, and the next, until somewhere some spirit-emanation puts a battle-axe in his head and launches him unceremoniously out of the Battleground Realm.

Christian doesn't, though. He stands there, silent and stonefaced, wet-cheeked, watching. He bears witness.

Lukas thinks that's a sort of strength.

Then Christian is cursing, and it's incomprehensible to him. Wyrmbreaker turns his head. He lowers it, bumps his crown into his packmate's arm -- the breadth of his skull enormous in this form, easily two outstretched handspans from ear to ear.

"I can't understand you, Christian," he says gently.

[Christian del Piero] When he's like this he doesn't want to be touched. It's like pouring petrol on the fire under his skin. At the same time...he's still a pack animal. It reminds him he's not alone. Greg said the same thing Lukas does when they woke up in captivity. That doesn't make him cry harder. He chokes on his tears though...coughs a few times. The war drums are back. His blood is boiling. And Lukas can't understand him.

"I said..." He wipes his nose. Coughs again. "I said I'm gonna kill that guy. This was stupid! What...what...we didn't save anyone or...or stop anything. We weren't even looking for anything! We were just talking and now he's dead and that's bull shit!"

[Wyrmbreaker] "Dying in combat against the Wyrm itself, risen from Malfeas, wouldn't make him any less dead," Wyrmbreaker replies, and for what it's worth this, too, is spoken as gently as a monster out of nightmare could possibly speak, "and it wouldn't make you feel any better. It'd still feel like a pity and a waste. And you'd still be this angry.

"Hate the ones that killed him if you must. Hate that he's dead. But don't hate the manner of his death because you don't think it was glorious or meaningful. That just insults the courage Thirty-Second-Silence showed at the end."

The direwolf stands, then, and paces to the fading bloodstain where Gregory's shade lay. Everything's fading now. The scene's almost played out. It'll fade away soon -- and then start again, repeating over and over until the end of time itself. A record. A mute testament.

"But come here," Wyrmbreaker says. "Look at this."

He puts his paw under the shaky letters scratched into the earth: effectively Gregory's last words.

[Christian del Piero] He wants to argue with him. Try to make himself clearer. But he's too angry. He doesn't know why he speaks Italian when he gets upset. Maybe because that's all they spoke in his house when he was growing up. He doesn't have an accent though. Not usually. Lukas might have noticed a southern drawl when he started speaking English again. It's hard to tell with him crying. The Fang keeps wiping his face. He nods that he understands. Don't hate how he died. Greg was brave.

Christian stands still as Lukas walks to the spot where Greg died. The grass is turning green again. He's given an order. He sniffs and follows. There's a message. It says "Not U." If he saw it before he can't remember it. The Fang covers his mouth. It's hard to tell if he laughs or sobs. He swallows again. Coughs. Takes his hand away.

"This really sucks," he says. Christian ducks down to touch the message before it disappears. He stays there. He's shaking. "I don't...I didn't..." He coughs. If he starts crying again his head is ducked to hide it. "Why can't you...stop...yourself...from going into a Thrall? Like you can a regular frenzy? I could have...I know he was brave. He was. I just..." He's going to work himself into a frenzy. He can feel his vision going red. His grief is turning away from anger and towards Rage.

[Wyrmbreaker] "Because our Rage comes from the Wyrm, just as our will comes from the Weaver, our Gnosis from the Wyld. Usually the Rage comes from the Wyrm-as-he-was. The rightful Destroyer. But sometimes, from the Wyrm-as-he-is. And Gaia herself hasn't been able to stop the Wyrm as he is."

Christian says Gregory was brave, and he knows that. He's on the verge of frenzy again, his anger building, his rage and outrage at ... everything building toward some point of no return.

Wyrmbreaker stamps his heavy paw on the dirt again. The grass, which is turning green again, the blood fading like it never was.

"No. That's not what I wanted you to see. Read what he wrote. Not you. That's the last thing he had to say to you, or anyone. This was not your fault. This didn't happen because you didn't control yourself. Or because you turned on your friend. Or because you threw yourself into danger.

"It happened because you got unlucky. They hit too hard, too fast. Even if you had your wits about you, I don't know that Thirty Second Silence would have survived. Maybe if you were both stronger, you would have both survived. But he's not dead because you did something wrong."

Wyrmbreaker's eyes are glittering at the end of that, his words low snarls and growls in his chest. When he's finished, there's a silence.

Then, quieter:

"Now, you can either accept that knowledge and move on from it. Learn from it. Or you can let yourself get angry over it again and spin off into another Frenzy where you don't have to think. I know which choice is easier. I also know which choice is right. Do you?"

[Wyrmbreaker] [and pause!]

[Christian del Piero] (( Now would be a good time to fail, del Piero... ))
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 7, 10, 10 (Success x 2 at target 7)

[Christian del Piero] Fresh from battle Christian is easier to talk to. His Rage is gone then. He's no more rational than any other 18 year old...but at least he hears you when you're talking. He can see what's right in front of him. On some level he understands what Lukas is saying. And he knows. The Gnawer Theurge never lied to him. Or said things just to make him feel better. Most of the times he said things that pissed him off.

Christian didn't fight tonight. His Rage is so hot he can't breathe. He seems to be hearing him toward the end...and then who knows what the teenager - with no rank and no deed name and no family outside of his pack - actually hears. Something touches a nerve. He gasps for air. He almost frenzies.

That would have been easier. Letting himself fall into a fugue would have been easier. He would have been blacked out...numb. He's not. He's angry but he didn't fly into a frenzy. He didn't Thrall. Christian wraps his arms around his scarred torso. It's not as bad as the night he'd worn himself out following Lukas' instructions in the fight against the malakhim. When all he could do at the end was pace and whine. Wait for further instructions. He still has a sliver of control left. Words fail him. The young Ahroun makes a furious - inhuman - noise and stands up.

[Wyrmbreaker] [empathy!: do you want to kill the shades, or just get outta here? +WP, let's not botch.]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 5, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6) [WP]

[Christian del Piero] (( He wants to kill the actual monsters/BSD that did this. It's a combination of hating them and being Rage 6/WP 2 atm. He's crazy enough to think that he can go after them back in the realm. He's also likely to attack anything that moves before they can return. He'd be keen on the suggestion to stick around and fight the shades. ))
to Wyrmbreaker

[Wyrmbreaker] Wyrmbreaker remains as he is, sitting on his haunches, as the rage in Christian threatens to boil over. He doesn't stand. He doesn't face his packmate. He doesn't make overt gesture of preparation -- for war, for combat, for what may be necessary.

Still. When Christian bites back his rage and keeps ahold of himself, there's a sense that Wyrmbreaker's tension abates a notch. Not much; but enough.

The younger Ahroun surges to his feet. Wyrmbreaker stands too. For a long moment the direwolf regards his packmate. Looks at him, listens to the cadence of his breathing, reads his posture and his scent. Everything, every last clue he could possibly pick up, trying to get a sense of what the Silver Fang wants.

A few seconds go by. Then he turns back to the scene. Wyrmbreaker says nothing; he does nothing. He just waits.

And it begins again.


"Evenin', stranger," Gregory says.
"Fuck. Don't do that!" Christian says.

There's a wet snuffling in the undergrowth. Moving fast as wolves, light on hoofed feet, the two skull pigs loping ahead of the Dancer: converging on the shades of the two Cliaths.

They don't get there this time. As the Christian-shade and the Gregory-shade are turning to face their unexpected visitors, Wyrmbreaker lunges forward with a savage roar. All at once the world snaps into sharp reality around Christian. He can feel the wetness of the grass beneath his feet. He can smell the air, and it smells the same it did that night, two, three weeks ago -- august, heat and humidity in the air.

Christian's own shade vanishes. He's suddenly standing in its places. He's committed to this scene now. And the skull pig nearest him is turning on its slender hooves, snorting as it lowers its head to charge.

[let's get a reaction post and then roll some dice!]

[Christian del Piero] When this massacre happened Christian was not connected to Perun. He was a worse fighter than he is tonight. He was more in control of himself at the start of the battle...yet he had flown into a Thrall. There are a few things different. His face is still damp from crying. He's so wrathful he can't breathe. He isn't thinking about how this is going to help. Like there isn't anything that can really -help-. He's not thinking at all. The only difference in how he fights when he's furious and when he's frenzied is that he feels pain. It slows him down. And he doesn't attack people he cares about. Christian flows into his white hispo form again as they run toward the skull pigs. It doesn't feel like September anymore. It's August. And he hadn't roared then like he does now.

[Wyrmbreaker] [sorry about delay -- phone call!]

[Wyrmbreaker] [Damon! +7]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 4 (Failure at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] [Stefan! +7]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 3 (Failure at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] [Greg-shade! +7]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 4 (Failure at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] [Lukas! +20]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] [BSD! +20]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 5 (Failure at target 6)

[Christian del Piero] (( +8 ))
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 6

[Wyrmbreaker] [Greg
1a Bite Damon
1b Bite Damon

Damon
1a. Body Slam Greg
1b. Tusk him
R1. Bite him, mm, tangy
R2. Again

Stefan
1a. Tusk Christian
1b. Tusk Christian
R1. Bite
R2. Bite]

[Christian del Piero] (( 1a: get behind Damon
1b:
2 Rage: all bites on Damon. Switching to Stefan if he goes down! ))

[Wyrmbreaker] [BSD
1a. hamstring Lukas!
b. flank!
R1.
R2.
R3. - bites on Lukas!]

[Wyrmbreaker] [actually swap 1a/b there. doesn't make sense otherwise.]

[Wyrmbreaker] [Lukas
1a. spur claws BSD!
b.
R1.
R2.
R3. - bites on Damon, switching to Stefan.]

[Wyrmbreaker] 1a. -2 dice! -1R!
Dice Rolled:[ 11 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 2, 3, 4, 6, 6, 7, 7, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] [dam +1]
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 2, 3, 5, 5, 5, 6, 6, 7, 7, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] [soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 2, 2, 2, 2, 3, 7, 7, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] [2A on BSD, plus +2 diff on actions.

b. chomp Damon! -3]
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 2, 3, 6, 7, 7, 8, 8, 10 (Success x 4 at target 5) Re-rolls: 1

[Wyrmbreaker] [+3]
Dice Rolled:[ 12 d10 ] 3, 3, 3, 4, 5, 6, 6, 6, 7, 7, 8, 9 (Success x 7 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] [soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 3, 4, 5, 5, 6, 8, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] BSD
1a. hamstring! +2 diff
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 2, 3, 3, 6, 6, 6, 8, 9 (Failure at target 10)

[Wyrmbreaker] b. mvmt.

[Christian del Piero] (( 1a: get behind Damon.
1b: Dex + Brawl, bite. Brawl +3, Perun. Difficulty -2, behind. -3 pool, 2nd split. ))
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 3, 5, 6, 7, 10 (Success x 4 at target 3)

[Christian del Piero] (( Str +3 hispo +2 bite +3 staging - Dmg ))
Dice Rolled:[ 11 d10 ] 2, 3, 5, 6, 6, 6, 6, 7, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 8 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] [soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 3, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] [Greg shade! Bite Damon -2]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 2, 5, 5 (Success x 2 at target 5)

[Wyrmbreaker] [dam+1]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 2, 5, 5, 6, 10 (Failure at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] b. again!
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 3, 8 (Success x 1 at target 5)

[Wyrmbreaker] [dam!]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 3, 4, 7, 7, 7, 7, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] [piggy soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 1, 3, 4, 4, 6, 8, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] Damon: x_x

[Wyrmbreaker] There's some poetic justice in this. Not in the real world, no, but here: this glorification of battle, this entire umbral realm devoted to War -- there is justice here.

It's the shade of the scrawny Theurge that tears the first skullpig's throat out. The very one that killed him in life: going down in a tangle of hooves and torn flesh, a last shrieking squeal tapering to nothing.

The other one wheels. With a bellow of rage -- not at all the sort of noise a pig would make, or anything of this world -- it charges Gregory instead.

[Stefan action change:
1a. charge Greg!
b. tusk Greg!
R1/R2 unchanged.]

[Wyrmbreaker] [1a. -2 dice.]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 3, 4, 6, 6, 7, 8, 9 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] [base dam +4 (charging tusks!) +4 (suxx)]
Dice Rolled:[ 13 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 2, 2, 4, 4, 4, 6, 6, 7, 7, 8 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] [soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 3, 4, 5, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] b. tusk! -3
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 3, 4, 4, 9, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] base dam +3(normal tusks) +1(succ)
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 3, 4, 5, 5, 6, 7, 7, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 4, 5, 5, 9, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] [Lukas, R1 - biting Stefan now]
Dice Rolled:[ 13 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 4, 4, 5, 5, 5, 7, 7, 8, 9, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 8 at target 5) Re-rolls: 2

[Wyrmbreaker] [dam +7]
Dice Rolled:[ 16 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 2, 2, 4, 5, 6, 6, 7, 7, 8, 8, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 4, 5, 8, 8, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] BSD, R1 - biting lukas!
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 3, 3, 4, 5, 7, 7, 8, 9 (Success x 6 at target 4)

[Wyrmbreaker] dam +5
Dice Rolled:[ 14 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 2, 2, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 6, 7, 7, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] [lukas soaks!]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 3, 3, 4, 6, 8, 9, 9 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Christian del Piero] (( R1, switching to Stefan ))
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 3, 3, 3, 5, 6, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 4 at target 5)

[Christian del Piero] (( +3 ))
Dice Rolled:[ 11 d10 ] 3, 4, 4, 5, 5, 6, 6, 9, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 1, 3, 7, 7, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] Greg - done with actions.

Stefan - attacking christian!
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 2, 2, 3, 4, 4, 7, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 4 at target 5)

[Wyrmbreaker] [base dam +2 (bite) +3 (succ)]
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 3, 6, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[Christian del Piero] (( Soak! ))
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 3, 4, 4, 6, 7, 8 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] Lukas, R2 - biting Stef!
Dice Rolled:[ 13 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 5, 5, 7, 7, 8, 8, 8, 8, 9, 9 (Success x 8 at target 5)

[Wyrmbreaker] [dam+7]
Dice Rolled:[ 16 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 2, 4, 4, 5, 5, 6, 6, 7, 8, 8, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] [oh come on, Kahseenothulhu!]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 3, 4, 4, 5, 5, 6, 8, 8 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] BSD R2 - biting Lukas!
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 2, 3, 5, 5, 7, 7, 8, 9 (Success x 6 at target 4)

[Wyrmbreaker] [dam+5!]
Dice Rolled:[ 14 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 1, 4, 4, 5, 5, 5, 6, 7, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] [well at least kahseeno is an equal opportunity pwinker.]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 3, 7, 7, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[Christian del Piero] (( R2 ))
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 2, 3, 4, 4, 5, 6, 8, 8, 9 (Success x 5 at target 5)

[Christian del Piero] (( +4 ))
Dice Rolled:[ 12 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 2, 3, 6, 6, 7, 7, 8, 10, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] [soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 2, 4, 4, 6, 8, 8, 9, 9 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] Stefan, R2 - Bite Christian! with my dying snortbreath!
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 1, 4, 4, 5, 5, 6, 7, 8 (Success x 3 at target 5)

[Wyrmbreaker] [dam+2]
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 2, 3, 4, 4, 4, 5, 8, 10, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Christian del Piero] (( Soak! ))
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 3, 3, 4, 6, 6, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] lukas: biting stef!
Dice Rolled:[ 13 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 3, 4, 5, 5, 5, 8, 8, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 7 at target 5)

[Wyrmbreaker] dam+6
Dice Rolled:[ 15 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 3, 3, 3, 5, 5, 5, 7, 7, 8, 8, 8, 9 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 2, 5, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] x_x

BSD - R3, bite lukas!
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 4, 6, 7, 9, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 6 at target 4)

[Wyrmbreaker] [dam+5]
Dice Rolled:[ 14 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 2, 2, 3, 3, 4, 6, 6, 7, 8, 9, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] [soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 3, 3, 4, 4, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] [end of round. tally in action order:

Lukas - OK
BSD - 2A
Christian - 4A
Greg - 2A
Damon - x_x, 4 overkill
Stefan - x_x, 2 overkill]

[Wyrmbreaker] Always a bittersweet thing to relive a battle you fought. Always hard to see how things could have gone. If that pig hadn't gored him so terribly in the first instants. If it hadn't opened Greg up navel to neck. If he hadn't been out of his mind; if Greg's attacks hadn't been so futile.

If, if, if.

Some part of Wyrmbreaker wonders if this is really helping. If killing these shades that killed his friend is really helpful for Christian, a sort of catharsis -- or if it'll become another point of shame, later. Some part of him had hoped they would fail as terribly as Christian and Greg had that night. Then he could look at his packmate and say,

See. It wasn't you. Anyone would have died.

A different outcome this time, though. Their luck is far better. They're both much, much stronger than Greg and Christian were that night. Even with a third opponent, a Dancer Ahroun striking at them, the balance is squarely tipped in their favor.

A second is all it takes to bring the first skull pig down. Two more, and the second joins it, half a ton of fetid weight dropping heavily to the bloodstained grass. Now there's three of them against one Dancer.

[Wyrmbreaker] [Greg
1a. GB on self
b. GB on Christian
c. soak talen
d. gnosis battery!]

[Christian del Piero] He's as useless now as he was when the battle first took place. And he's not out of his mind. He's actually here. Fighting. Greg is still up. He'd be proud of the scrawny Gnawer for taking one of them down if it meant that they would both walk out of here when it was over. When it's over he'll think about what it means that Lukas was faster than he is. That Christian himself may as well not have been there. The bastard who left him alive is still up. That's who he goes for next.

(( 1a/b
2 Rage: bites on BSD. ))

[Wyrmbreaker] [Lukas
1
R1
R2 - biting bsd!

BSD
1a. Mind Blast Lukas!
b. Bite Christian!
R1. again!
R2. one more time!]

[Wyrmbreaker] [lukas - chomp bsd!]
Dice Rolled:[ 13 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 2, 2, 3, 3, 3, 4, 4, 5, 6, 8, 10 (Success x 2 at target 5) Re-rolls: 1

[Wyrmbreaker] [...fine, i'll say it! IA IA KAHSEENO FHTAGN.]
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 3, 4, 5, 5, 6, 7, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] [you vindictive bitch.]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 3, 4, 5, 6, 6, 6, 9, 9 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] BSD
1a. Mind Blast! -1WP. Wits + Alert, resisted by WP roll!
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 7, 8 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] [wp resist roll!]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 3, 6, 8, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] ...guess no mind blast. b changed to: try again!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 1, 4, 5, 7, 8 (Failure at target 6)

[Christian del Piero] (( 1a: Dex + Brawl, bite! Dex +2, hispo. Brawl +3, Perun. -4 pool, 1st split/wound penalties. ))
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 2, 4, 6, 6, 6, 8 (Success x 4 at target 5)

[Christian del Piero] (( +3 ))
Dice Rolled:[ 11 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 2, 3, 3, 6, 7, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] [soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 4, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Christian del Piero] (( 1b: -5 ))
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 5, 7, 8, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 6 at target 5)

[Christian del Piero] (( +5 ))
Dice Rolled:[ 13 d10 ] 1, 3, 5, 5, 5, 5, 6, 7, 8, 8, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] [soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 5, 8, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] -_-!

[Wyrmbreaker] The creatures here don't know they're emanations. They behave like the ones they mimic. They think like them, move like them, plan like them, act like them.

The Dancer, outnumbered and cornered, draws on his darker powers. He locks eyes with Wyrmbreaker. He shreds his own will to subjugate the Shadow Lord to the Wyrm's, but Lukas's reputation for control, for a steely will, is no idle rumor. Twice the Dancer tries to blast him into quiescence. Twice, he fails.

There's no third time. The angry young Fang comes in snapping. The first bite catches only fur.

The second tears out the side of the Dancer's throat. There's a hot splash of blood, salty on his tongue, so vivid and real he forgets this is not. The Dancer drops, breathing shallowly. It would be utterly trivial to kill him. But if he does, this scene will end. And the Greg-shade, who looks and smells and feels alive, will be gone.

Wyrmbreaker stands with his forepaws apart, his jaws wet with blood. His sides move with every breath. He watches to see what the Fang will do.

[Christian del Piero] Really...he wants that bastard dead. But Christian isn't stupid. He acts stupid. But there is a brain in his head. And once his Rage is drained...it helps. He isn't thinking clearly. But his Rage overpowers his ability to control himself about as much as it does on a normal day. And it's not as hot. But he's not as strong. What he wants to do is keep tearing into this thing until it vanishes. Then go find its realm counterpart. Now he knows what he looks like. What he's capable of. He knows that if he goes after him alone he -might- survive. If his luck holds up.

He also knows that he didn't get to say good bye to Greg that day. The last thing he said to him wasn't even words. It was a vicious snarl right before he attacked him. Greg is just a shade of himself here. It's not even his spirit. His spirit's gone back to his homelands. But it's something. Christian's eyes may as well be beacons of insanity. They illuminate just how cracked he is. It's worse in his human form. At least in this form you know he's a monster. Not a human or an animal but a monster. You just sense it when he looks like a scarred troubled young man.

A growl dies in Christian's throat when the BSD falls. His teeth are bared. His face and neck are red. He looks toward the Gnawer who kept him alive more than once. For a second Christian looks like he hates him too. It's just pain. This hurts. And what happened tonight doesn't change a thing. He's still dead. The kid shifts back to his birth form. Wipes at his face. It's blood and sweat now...not tears.

"You should have fucking run," he says to Greg's shade... almost whimpers. Wipes his nose. Sniffs. He looks down for a second. Grinds his teeth. Looks back up. "Thank you."

[Wyrmbreaker] Wyrmbreaker is somehow reminded of his journey through the Underworld in the rite of reawakening. He's reminded of the seventh gate, his own, and the dreadful task that awaited him there. He remembers asking the shade of his mate

a question she would not answer. She is not here, the spirit that wore Danicka's face said instead.

Some part of Lukas wants to say the same to Christian. He's not really here. He doesn't, though. Maybe that's mercy, too. Maybe it's just that he knows Christian already knows that. And this is something.


"What," the Gregory-shade is saying now, "and leave you there? You’re my best friend Christian, well ... you might have to duke it out with Penny for that... She’s tough too! Way tougher than than a stinky skull pig.

"Anyway, run away? What you think I am? Some kind of low-born cowardly Gnawer?" Gregory grins, that wolfish carefree grin and he licks his tongue over his teeth, but then it fades and he dips his muzzle. "You wouldn’t have left me."

[thanks to nomey for the greg-text!]

[Christian del Piero] He knows it's not him. It looks like him. It sounds like him. It kind of smells like him. But it's not him. It doesn't mean anything less to Christian. When they get back to Chicago...if he lives long enough...he'll talk to Greg's grave like he's actually there. Only Greg won't answer. Christian's eyes are shining in the dark. He keeps swallowing and sniffing to stop from breaking down. It would be easy to wallow. Beat himself up. Say "Yeah but I did leave you" or "Then why did I frenzy" or anything else that Lukas covered already. Maybe he does anyway. But he keeps it to himself. When he speaks he's barely audible. "Yeah," he croaks. Sniffs again. "I'll...I'll see you on the other side, you jerk."

He turns away before he can see Greg's shade fade into nothing. Wraps his arms around his ribs. And walks.

[Wyrmbreaker] Christian turns away too quickly to see what expression Greg's shade might have had on his face. It doesn't matter anyway. That's not Greg. Whatever those expressions are, they're drawn from ... god knows what. Their memories, maybe. What the universe thinks of Greg. Greg's spirit itself, far away now, somewhere in Rat's homelands.

That last option is the best. It might be the one Christian hopes for, or holds on to somehow. That even though Greg isn't here, maybe this place echoes Greg in some way. Echoes his essence. Echoes who he was. If nothing else, he knows this: the real Greg wouldn't have left him, either. Didn't.

He turns away. Behind him, there's a muffled crunch: his Alpha ending the life of the Dancer and with it, this iteration of the battle. The world begins to change around him. The blood on the grass has a different smell now, purer. His own, and Gregory's. The bodies on the floor do not belong to the Wyrm. Everything he's done tonight, everything he's changed sweeps away, fading from the center out, like a piece of paper held too long over flame.

Before long, even that vanishes. The battle resets, or perhaps simply goes away until someone comes looking for it again. Grant Park fades around him, and his wounds fade with it. He's back on the hardpacked dirt path, the din of a million battles raging around him. His rage is still spent. He feels hollowed out, burned clean.

He doesn't say anything. Neither does Wyrmbreaker, pacing beside him; otherwise giving him space, time, room to sort his own grief out. There's no discussion between them, but they're heading for the border of the Realm now.

Time to go home.