In your dream, you stand in a bleak, empty shell of a land, blasted by heat, wind and cold each in turn, not even strong enough to hold sand to it. A barren plateau where nothing could likely live for long, and it appears as though nothing ever could. And yet, there is only a short distance away a temple-like building.
Sepdet glances around at the blasted place numbly, gut whispering to her of the last time she stood in such a land...and certain she will probably never see it again. She turns towards the temple, simply placing one foot before the other.
The temple grows in your vision, slowly but surely, until there is nothing else. Great frescoes of scenes from Egyptian myth cover the walls, tall pillars support the stone roof. A single, dark entrance opens into the interior.
You step inside, feeling around you. The walls are close, as is the ceiling -- a square tunnel perhaps five and a half feet on a side leads into the interior. As you walk, the light of the entrance fades and disappears. You walk on for several minutes, before a faint firelit opening appears in the hallway up ahead.
Sepdet takes in each and every thing with the preternatural clarity of senses that take control during situations such as these, when time seems to crawl and every detail is burningly clear. She continues towards the faint red light without slowing her stride.
You step unhesitating into the light. A small, beautiful chamber opens before you. Lit by torchlight, it holds gleaming, priceless trasures of every description. But what grabs your attention more are the three carved sarcophagi on the far side of the chamber...
The left one appears oldest; it has been tarnished with age. However, it also has the most intricate design upon it and seems to glow almost with a faint aura of power all its own. The design upon the front depicts in great detail the history of the god Horus, and in fact the hawk's head is atop the body etched into the sarcophagus lid.
The center one seems the most 'real' -- it dominates the room. It is also the largest. It depicts a number of scenes of Garou, probably Striders, locked in bloody battle in the desert with the moon high overhead. The head on the sarcophagus is one of a jackal, but is subtly different than the one usually associated with Anubis.
The last, and furthest right, is the smallest and most unremarkable. It depicts a priest in a temple, then the same man in a multitude of different places as though depicting his walk through life. Oddly, this one also has a hawk's head, though it is surmounted by a golden disk.
Sepdet examines the writing upon each, not touching, at first. She wonders silently, thoughts halfway translated into sign on her hands. Horus. Anubis. The Harbinger...in every incarnation down through the ages?
Silence reigns in the room. You notice that each sarcophagus is slightly ajar, enough to get a grip if you so desired. The more you look at the figures' heads, the more you can associate them with particular mythological figures. Horus on the left, for certain. The center one is slightly off from Anubis, perhaps Ap-Uat or Wepwawet, possibly even Duamutef. The right is almost certainly Ra, though he looks much more like a priest with Ra's head than Ra himself.
You paged Anubis with 'Training and custom rebels, at first: to open up the sarcophagus, especially of the most honored of all, is against Strider ways. And Owl knows the time she spent caged in one was her worst nightmare. But this is dream, and after whispering a soft prayer to each, she sets her small hands under the great lid of the first one, starting at the left.'.
The lid is far too heavy to move, but as you pull at it, there is a loud, rough scraping of stone on stone as the lid of the center one begins to move...
Sepdet drops back and into the Egyptian equivalent of kneeling, facing the coffin with arms raised and bent before her, palms out.
A figure, wrapped in linen but for its great lupine head, steps from the coffin. It smells of the dry, dusty smell of the ancient dead. Its great red eyes bore down at Sepdet. Amazingly, the figure laughs -- a humorless, dry laugh, but a laugh nonetheless. ~Welcome back to my country, Sepdet. You've been knocking at the door for weeks. What do you want?~ Wepwawet, whole again since your last meeting with him, smiles sardonically at you.
Sepdet ducks her eyes shyly. ~It hasn't been a matter of what I want since I decided I would drink, Honored One. It is simply the direction my heart says I must go. I was supposed to bring healing and hope to a time and place well-chosen: this was said over me when I was born, perhaps by a madman. But I cling to it. My time and place are the Wheel Renewed. It has been injured. I want it healed, and I am offering...whatever I have...that may help bring that about.~
Wepwawet nods. ~Ah, that. The place is right, Sepdet, but the time is not. And the gift of being a Harbinger is not returnable. The next time you visit my land, it had better be to contact the Alpha of my Sept, not to return a gift.~ He pauses for a moment, looking coolly at her. ~But your motivations are good. Perhaps I can help a bit.~ He walks over to the sarcophagus on the right and opens the lid.
Inside is a dessicated corpse, thousands of years old and wrapped in its burial shroud except for the head. As you watch, the face begins to fill out a bit, though appearing a bit superimposed, as though you are in fact looking at the body and seeing its separated spirit. The face looks vaguely familiar, though you can't seem to place it precisely.
The dead man in Ra's priest's sarcophagus smiles -- actually kindly, compared with Wepwawet's mocking look. He speaks English, rather than Garou: "Hello, young friend. The problem that you have not yet noticed is that the caern, and its visions, are a much larger problem than only one person, tribe, or perhaps even race can solve."
The man continues, "Think of the caern as a great basin of water. You yourself have only the water in your small bucket. Now, your bucket is bigger than most, but it still does not approach the size of the basin you wish to refill. However, a portion of water from many buckets can fill that basin."
Sepdet brings her hands down--a bit shakily-- and looks upon the face, relaxing as she guesses the one behind it. "I...saw that, but...still. It can only be solved by each doing their part, as much as they can." She shrugs. "This is what I could do. I do not know how to ask the others to give this, or even what, exactly, needs to be given to restore it."
The man smiles again, a bit sadly, and nods. "Nor do I have those answers. But I can tell you that your gesture, while noble, is also futile on its own." He looks nervously over at the unopened left-hand coffin. "And inadvisable as well." After a slight pause, he continues. "There are few specifics I can give you. But I encourage you to remember the past -- that caern has not always been the powerhouse that you discovered it as; once it lay so dormant only the most highly attuned could even note its presence while standing on top of it. Your entire sept will need to make a sacrifice to bring its strength back, and even then it may take a great deal of time. Gather the Theurges and speak with the spirits. Discover the history of the caern's power, and you may find a way to rebuild it.

From afar, Anubis OOC reminds you that this is NOT his story; anything that can be done to make it work with a group is totally up to the GM, I could be totally talking out my butt, OOC. :) But this is the advice this figure would give you.
Sepdet oocly grins and nods. I _already_ gathered all the theurges together once to try and do this. But they all just sat around going 'what do we do, Sepdet?'. ;)
From afar, Anubis grins. There's the challenge, isn't it?

Sepdet follows the man's gaze towards the untouched coffin and inclines her head. "We will, then," she says simply, skipping over the hows, whys, and buts of her past attempts and present uncertainties.
The man says, "You must motivate them as you are motivated. Give them a stake in it, though not necessarily the one that you have yourself. Make them take ownership for the caern and show it -- the power is there, it just needs to be replenished. If necessary, you may want to consider looking outside the caern for aid, too -- though my Garou friends seem to bristle at the suggestion." Wepwawet, appropriately enough, frowns at the man, but does not say anything.
Wepwawet finally says, "Enough, priest. Return to the mortal coil and out of my home." The face of the man fades, and Wepwawet steps back into his own sarcophagus. ~I wish you luck, young one. And tell Anubis that the Warder awaits the Alpha. Guard well the Wheel, and see truly -- whether you wish it or no.~ He raises his hand in a blessing gesture as he steps back into the hole.
Sepdet pulls her gaze away from Shepitra and bows respectfully to Wepwawet, touching her priestess' sidelock in answer. She gives no spoken reply, her gesture speaking for itself in confirmation of the ancient one's orders.
Wepwawet pulls his own lid closed over himself. Oddly, the room begins to rumble, loudly. Stone shifts on stone, and the entry behind you collapses. You notice that the lid of the left sarcophagus has fallen aside...
Through the opening of the coffin you see an impossible scene. It opens into a room in what looks like an ancient castle high in snow-topped mountains. It almost looks like a movie projection. In that room stand two men talking. As you watch, one of them, a stern, commanding man, turns to look your direction. "Excuse me; I have something to attend to," he says to the other. The other man nods, turns, and walks out of your view. The stern man comes toward the opening...
The plane of space where the ancient temple meets the otherworld room seems to grow more solid, forming almost a heat-shimmer appearance. As the man approaches the plane he seems to grow a bit, and look more and more angry. The room begins to rumble again.
Sepdet unconsciously tries to take a step backwards, facing the man tightlipped.
As the man's body breaks the plane, he shifts abruptly. His body bursts upward, becoming taller than even a large crinos, and more thickly muscled. Gone is his business suit; in its place is traditional ancient garb, and his head becomes that of a hawk. The eyes of the giant figure bore downward toward you, as though to burn straight through and leave nothing behind. The otherworld disappears as the figure slams the sarcophagus lid behind him.
Sepdet manages somehow to keep from covering her face, meeting his anger with eyes streaming.
Horus reaches his right hand upward to his own face, tears an eye from his head and holds it in his palm before Sepdet's face. ~I do not give gifts lightly, nor do I choose stupidly.~ The eye bursts into blue flame in the one-eyed deity's hand.
The figure bellows, ~YOU ARE HARBINGER!~ And slams the eye into Sepdet's chest, over her old scar. You burst into flame and the world explodes around you in red agony.
The eye on Sepdet's chest begins to smoke heavily, and the stench of roasted human flesh fills the umbral air.
You fade out of that reality and gradually back into this one. The old, faint eye scar from the klaive is gone. In its place is a thick, dark, heavy scar -- the eye has now been branded upon you as though with a hot iron. The rest of you is fine, but that's going to hurt for a while.
Gradually the smoke fades, but the stench is still there. The bowl of congealed blood is empty.