By the Waterfall
Contents:
Arlen
Obvious exits:
Steam Vents Center Windy Spot Up the Trail
Arlen comes walking thoughtfully down the trail, and almost runs into Sepdet.
+shift crinos
Hope-Star contorts and blurs as she is transformed.
You shift into Crinos form.
Sepdet's ears stand up like exclamation points, and she grins wryly at Arlen. ~Evening. I was going to go check on the Lady one more time before it starts getting too dark and dangerous a run. Care to join me?~
Arlen looks faintly bemused. ~And here I just came from there. Yes, I would like to. Should talk to you about that mocker thing anyway.~

Undine pages: If you're bringing Kshema, go ahead and pose her for a bit when you get here and I'll take over when I need to?
You paged Undine with 'Okay. :)'.

Sepdet pricks ears forward at Arlen, pausing before slipping across. ~Oh? News?~
Arlen shakes her head. ~Ideas wanted,~ she says, and slips across herself.
Arlen's eyes stop on her reflection in the pool at the base of the waterfall.
Arlen gazes into the pool at the base of the waterfall, and suddenly she vanishes.
Arlen has left.
+reach
You start to reach through the umbra.
Sepdet's eyes stop on her reflection in the pool at the base of the waterfall.
The landscape shimmers in a myriad of colors, and you are through.
Sepdet gazes into the pool at the base of the waterfall, and suddenly she vanishes.
Umbra: Center of the Caern
Contents:
Arlen
Whispers
Obvious exits:
South North West
Kshema is just hanging around, drifting lazily over the coulumn of stone. It waves slowly downward as the Strider comes across, hovering behind the two Garou and making their hair tremble a little with its breeze.
Sepdet gives her totem a respectful nod, oddly coming to a halt and clearing her face of all expression for a moment to face it before turning back to Arlen. ~All right. I have a few...~
Arlen gives the spirit a long look. *Evening,* she murmurs, and raises an eyebrow at Sepdet. "Yes?"

l whispers
This sinuous oriental dragon seems to be made of glass, with just highlighted areas showing its outline. It bewhiskered face is solemn and kind, and slanted silvery eyes full of wisdom. Each scale's edge glows in the moonlit umbra, long tail coiling in many undecipherable patterns. Gossamer wings furl and unfurl, but seem unnecessary to keep the strange creature hovering above the ground. The entire creature is about the size of a large wolf, long, lean and gracefully undulating through the air. There is always a slight breeze coming from the vicinity of the dragon: an east wind, of course.
+finger kshema
Information for Whispers (Alias 'Kshema'):
Whispers is connected.
Location: Umbra: Harbor Park
Other Name(s): Not Set
Race: Totem Sex: Neuter?
Pack Alpha: Sepdet Totem Incarna: East Wind
Members: Paul, Soulcatcher, Sepdet, Siobhan, and Dylan
Territory:
Position: Totem Avatar of the East Wind for Whispers in the Wind
Info: Kshema is a Hindu spiritual term, meaning "the power to guard". An apt name, considering Whisper's role as defenders and tenders of the spirits and umbral caern. The pack's name comes from prophetic words first spoken by their long lost cub Arcadia, and from the gift granted to them by Kshema to send their voices on its winds to one another.
The Wind Incarnae are strange totems of wisdom, so abtract they only exist for their followers in the umbra and in their own minds. East, in particular, grants its followers gnosis and gifts of the spirit and of resistence to frenzy, for it is associated with calm and control.

[Tromp tromp tromp tromp]

Umbra: Harbor Park
Contents:
Arlen
Undine(#4047PJcr$)
Obvious exits:
North Southwest West Bridge
Whispers comes off the bridge into the park.
Whispers has arrived.
You paged Whispers, Arlen, and Undine with 'We're actually still "travelling", Xan, discussing, but I thought we'd move to where you could eavesdrop. ;)'.

Sepdet is talking quietly as we walk, not having quite reached the park yet. The dragon, not always seen, has chosen to manifest itself with her tonight, and is ghosting and skimming along in the air a little above and behind them, each scale a glittering reflection of the half-moon.
Sepdet says, ~So...I don't quite know what Brian meant by getting a water-spirit to help. But he mentioned Salmon, and I've got some friendship with her. So I thought: Salmon's tough, and wise, and love clear rivers. Maybe we could gift a salmon-spirit with enough gnosis to lend the fighters her toughness and her ability to breathe the river. Or better, send a wave of her Children down the river, to clean and batter the muck in it, if we gave her a rite in her honor and enough power to make her strong.~
Arlen gives the Strider a delighted look. ~And here I was going to Dedicate Weaver toys for breathing. I would take either option, but if your friendship with Salmon is great enough, the latter would work marvelously.~
Kshema observes, serenely, *Calm is moving without grasping or being grasped. Calm is the stillpoint. Can one fight a battle, without anger?*
Arlen jerks her head at Kshema. ~Keep that Get away, then.~
Sepdet sighs. ~Well, it was a long, long time ago, and one favor, and one Fish, no matter how tough, can only do so much.~ She eyes the dark waters underfoot as we travel over th rusting skeleton of the bridge of webs and torn metal. ~I don't know if her children can come up the river this far, dammed, choked, and tainted as it is, here and there along its length. It's a lot like the Nile. I keep wishing my tribe could find a way to clear it, but that's going to take pushing the humans, and my homid tribesmates aren't influential enough to be able to do that, I believe.~ She blinks, a bit startled at Arlen's response to the spirit, as if suddenly realizing it is there in fact and not just in pack-sense tonight. She gives the wisp of dragon a wry grin. ~Tellin' me.~
Sepdet breathes a sigh of relief as the pair of Garou step off the grim bridge and reach the edge of the vital, green space around the fountain. ~Ah.~
Arlen nods. ~I shall have to see if I am able to make talens for the purpose of water breathing. I will also be making talens, just for information purposes, for the Revel this Full - we will apparently be attempting to complete the work against the hospital.~ She looks at Sepdet thoughtfully. ~Your tribe, and mine. That could be a strong Wyld force, this river, if freed.~
Sepdet looks wistfully at Arlen. ~It's an old ache for me. I've told them of it in the past, but none of us really knows where to begin. Another thing I have been thinking about though. Perhaps it is almost a blessing, if this Voice in the river spurs us to move where before we looked elsewhere for easier tasks.~
Kshema twists through the air and dives lower, skimming the ground slowly like a low-hugging mist, twirling slowly as it listens and watches with the patient presence of a huge old tree, although the spirit is not very large.
The fountain glimmers darkly under the philodox moon, and suddenly the sculpture in the center /moves/ and the waterling, silver-dark, stands on the surface of the water.
Arlen says, gravely, *Good evening.*
Sepdet givs a soft clear call as we step into the safety of the glade. *Hello, Lady. Wanted to see how you fare, before the moon makes our travel here difficult again for a hile.~
Dillan appears in a swirl of wind and light.
Dillan has arrived.
The waterling studies the Fury, the Strider, the wind-dragon. To the third, she offers her hand, in silence.
Owen appears in a swirl of wind and light.
Owen has arrived.
Kshema slowly zigs and zags from one side of the glade to the other, up and down, almost silent, moving like a kite in slow motion, or the northern lights. At the waterling's gesture, it draws in smoothly towards her, blowing a faint breeze on her waters as it salutes her gravely with its whiskers.
Arlen crouches down near the pool and watches the two spirits.
Dillan and Owen pop into sight at the edge of the fountain, one not long after the other. Dillan looks about, and quickly heads off towards the two others already here. "Hey, why ain't anyone invite me to the party?"
The waterling smiles faintly, gravely, at the wind-dragon. *Your brother is out there.* She points one slim finger towards the river, and then drops her hand, switching her serious gaze to her attendant and the ahroun he brought with him.
Sepdet comes up to a halt by the fountain with posture loosely guarded, not forgetting the dark and the dangers which like beyond the fragile protection of this glade. She smiles a little as Dillan shows up. ~A bit spur-of-moment. Wanted to check on your Lady once more before the roads between here and caern get any darker this moon. I hate travelling realmside; all those car-mirrors.~
Owen blinks, surprised to see others already hear. He walks behind Dillan for now, keeping himself out of the conversations.
Arlen says, calmly, still watching the spirits, "Because we just got here."
Dillan shrugs. He looks around again, this time finding the Undine and flashing a wide smile her way. "Uh. Car mirrors? S'up with that?" he asks, a bit perplexed. "Unless you're standin' a bit too close to the side of the road and they're clippin ya."
Sepdet's thin brows rise in faint surprise at the waterling's statement, but she answers Dillan's question by stepping up to the fountain's edge and pointing down at her reflection a bit sourly.
The reflection of that is of a delicate crinos. A halfmoon reflection.
Whispers curls around like a cat ambushing its own tail, still strangely placid even in eyeblink-speed movement, as inexorably gentle but swift as a falling raindrop. It listens silently, gravely.
Arlen observes this silently, as she'd already noticed some time ago.
Sepdet blinks and grins. ~Oh, right. It doesn't matter now. Dillan, I look like that in car mirrors, no matter what kind of veil I'm trying to keep. It's a little distracting.~
Owen steps forward to check out this talking water-spout, then coughs as he notices Sepdet's reflection.
You paged Dillan, Owen, Whispers, Arlen, and Undine with 'Duh. Sep's in crinos, so for once she matches. :) Player forgot.'.
After a moment, Kshema uncoils and drifts away, closer to the river. It's not yet leaving its packmember, but it's curious.
Arlen finally asks Owen, most of her attention still on Kshema, "And who would you be?"
Dillan's torn away from Latifah to eye what Sepdet has to show him. He eyes the reflection, then Sepdet, then the reflection again. "Uh-huh...?" Sepdet's explanation clears things up, however. "Oh. Gotcha. That's pretty fucked up."
Sepdet nods firmly at Dillan in succinct, and grim, agreement. ~Of course. That's what caused it after all.~ Then watches her spirit go with a faint expression of trepidation, but also trust. ~So it _was_ just a Voice. I thought that, at first, but so many people saw things in the River--I changed my mind. It's a voice. An ill wind?~
Arlen averrs, ~There are physical things in there. If you think it itself is not physical, perhaps it employs minions.~
Undine pages: I think it won't go all the way out unless you let it. It's promised to always be near you, of course.
Dillan gestures vaguely out towards the river. He squints, looking that way. "So, y'all still yappin' bout that thing that's s'posed to be out there? I still ain't seen nothing."
Undine remains standing on the surface of her fountain, arms crossed, head held high. She seems to be looking at... nothing. Everything.
Sepdet grimaces, ~Maybe the wyrm-things in the area are drawn towards the voice, too. The river isn't clean.~ She bites her lip, gives a soft sigh looking out at the dark water, and continues to monitor her friend closely.
Arlen looks, suddenly, from Dillan to the waterling. ~You protecting him?~
Arlen pages to Dillan, Owen, Whispers, Sepdet, and Undine: That was in SS. Really.
Long distance to Undine: Sepdet will let Kshema go look. She trusts his judgement fairly well, even if she worries. She knows he's wiser than she is. ;)
The waterling lowers her gaze to Arlen. *Protecting him? I protect him. He protects me. I know of the wings above the water, but it does not sing to me.*
Owen scratches at the side of his head, trying to follow the conversation as best he could, feeling very much like he has stepped into the middle of something. "Pardon. Owen Hollsinger. Get. Mo..." He glances at Dillan for a second. "Ahroun."
You paged InleRah with 'Gosh, our totem actually employed by a GM. Xan needed to give us some clues.'.
Arlen says, *Wings above...? Do tell,* she says, leaning forward in her crouch, eyes intent. After a moment, she adds, ~I meant, protecting him from the... Wings.*
Kshema moves further out, above the water, a tentative, thoughtful motion. After a moment, there is only a faint shimmering to show where it is, vision obscured by the clinging darkness.
Undine pages: Would you like to see through his eyes?
Dillan looks curiously towards Arlen, listening.
Sepdet listens intently, and not to anyone here. Her eyes have lost focus, as she continues to stare off into the dark where the glittering small dragon vanished. She takes another deep breath and slides into a different form, where it is easier to stay calm, focussed, patient, and unworried. Mostly.
+Shift glabro
Sepdet contorts and blurs as she is transformed.
Arlen answers Owen, absently, ~I know of Modi, yes. Arlen Kosmopoulos, Lightseeker. Theurge of the Black Furies, packing under Weasel.~
You shift into Glabro form.
You paged Undine with 'Yeah!'.
The waterling raises a hand, fingers spread, towards the river. *It does not sing to him. It does not sing to me. It is wings above water, and it is hungry. It tastes your terror, your anger, it eats the flailing against death and the corruption in the heart. I do not know it well. It is not of my skin.~
Undine whispers "Darkness against darkness, and then a swirling as Kshema tastes it with wind-whiskers, tendrils of being lending sight past sight. Wings cluster there, folded together, like a raven at rest-- but so many wings! A flight of ravens, a dark seraphim... the wings are closed."
Owen gives Arlen a nod, glances at the spirit, then turns to look out towards the river. "Um..."
*Yes, but he is of the same angry blood as we are. Hence, my curiousity if this lack of singing was something of your doing. But, my other question - It is not in water, it is not of the water. Which means, Sepdet, your Totem is going to get chomped upon.*
Says Arlen.
Sepdet's body shivers, but it's almost as if her face is disconnected from it, muscles flat, slack, and neutral, as if reading a weather report. She continues to watch nothing, and barely responds to Arlen above a whisper. *My Totem does not fear. He does not flail. He does not grasp. I see it now.*
Arlen peers out into the water. ~Handy quality, that.~
Undine whispers "Kshema coils around the wings for a moment, calmly investigating. And then there is a twitch of movement, and it's like a veil parting. Wings part in front of the face, the body, and bright green eyes gleam out at you-- at /you/ past Kshema. Then it stretches, wings unfolding. Two sets on its back, and where a man might have legs, more, more. five sets, perhaps, stretching and fluttering. It has a thin torso, male, and arms-- it stretches and a lock of feather-dark hair falls across one eye. Kshema, being the essence of wisdom, darts away then, and back towards you."
Kshema abruptly darts back across the river towards the gathered Garou.
Arlen has disconnected.
Owen arches an eyebrow, thoroughly confused now.
Sepdet lets out a whoosh of breath like she'd been holding hers, though she'd been breathing normally the whole time, and grins wryly up at her dragon as it shoots back like a goosed kite. *Having fun?* she ask the totem drily, as she struggles back to the here and now.
Kshema only twitches whiskers at the Strider, perhaps amused. *You saw.*
Sepdet dips her head with a mixture of respect and familiarity, holding her hand up flat to touch the dragon's chin as it floats by. Her movements are almost dreamlike as she interacts with it, although, as she turns back to the others, she becomes more animated and speaks more naturally. ~Apologies. Doing a bit of scouting through a wiser pair of eyes than my own.~ Her brow furrows as she processes whatever she just saw, and she finally avers, ~Ugly damn big pile of bat-dung, it is.~
Owen finally has to ask. "What is?"
Dillan jerks a thumb towards the river. "There's something out there, says everyone." HE shrugs. "I ain't seen it, but apparantly I'm inside the cone of silence."
The waterling smiles faintly at Dillan, but lets Garou handle Garou things.
Sepdet adds to Owen with a dry chuckle, ~And, ah, hi. Sepdet Swims-through-Silver, Strider Seer.~ Her eyes flick merrily up to the scaley-fellow and back. ~Follower of the East WInd, as you see. Um. Kshema was looking out over the river. There's a wyrm-spirit there, a cousin of his, which....~ she grasps for words for a moment, trying to translate Wind's rather alien perceptions into coherent language.
Sepdet shrugs helplessly. ~It's a world of wings, black wings, woven together in an egg like a nest. At least at first. Then it was realizing...er...~ she chuckles, still talking the way Kshema thinks. ~Er, it woke up. It saw the solid--I mean it was looking at me, at us, standing up here on the shore. It had a head, and a body like a man's, and green sharp eyes, and hair, but mostly all I--Kshema--saw was wings. Then Kshema came back, before it took it into its head to chew on him.~
Owen crosses his arms over his chest, litening.
Sepdet laughs ruefully. ~There goes all Kyle's and our plans to dredge the river--although that may be a long-term good as well. So. It's _sort_ of solid. Your Lady here calls it 'Wings'.~ She nods respectfully to the waterling. ~And that's really what it is, wings with a voice. And a nasty, nasty will. So. Next question. How do you deal with a flying thing?~
Kshema circles around the Strider, and then around the fountain, and then around the Strider again. *It is intelligent,* he observes.
Sepdet nods ruefully to Kshema. ~Very, or it wouldn't be able to say just the right things to irk those it talks to.~
Owen nods. "Yeah. How's that thing gonna get cleared out? Plans yet?"
Dillan nods, and purses his lips. "Okay, so we bring a helicopter up to this side, and go do flybies on the bitch? It'd be keen if we could get one of them bitchin' 'nam copters." He takes a moment to get a little more on-track. "'k, fine. So how d'we get out there to beat on it?"

You paged Undine with 'One thing I'm not sure...does it have a body? I mean, spirits are always a bit iffy on that subject, but Kshema saw...some sort of body? Like his own manifested dragon-shape, which one can at least sort of touch when he's close by?'.
Long distance to Undine: Sepdet isn't sure how much of Kshema's sight was impression, how much 'solid'. I assume it's a real body, but I want to make sure.
Undine pages: Trust a wind to know what wings feel like. :-) You can assume that's fairly solid.

Sepdet chews this over, thoughtfully, keenly aware of the totem who's probably a damn sight smarter than she is hovering serenely somewhere nearby. ~Well, originally we'd been planning to use talens to help us fight in water, and all that. The trouble is first--not water. Second--and here's the trick--not fight. Or at least not fight with anger, or fear. Kshema's been known to do that; his elders can mow throough an enemy as sure as an arrow through a target, and with as little wrath. But that's not exactly a Garou specialty.~
Sepdet thinks some more. ~So far, it's been trying to lure those who are susceptible towards it.~ She smiles thinly. ~Time to try the same thing on it. I wonder what Mother's Touch would do to it. If it's so keen on fighting and hurting and anger and fear, that might give it a stomach-ache. Might not, though.~
Owen scratches again at the side of his head.
Sepdet mutters, ~I still say I should just have Dylan invite it over and reason it to death.~
Sepdet's face suddenly clears and she smiles at Dillan a bit mischievously. ~You're a Shadow Lord, right? Not going to be horrified if I suggest a dishonorable tick?~
Owen clears his throat, putting his hands pack into his pockets.
Dillan looks as innocent as a newborn kitten. "Who? Me?" He leaves the floor to the Strider. "Do tell."
Sepdet leans forward and lowers her voice to a whisper, barely audible above the faint hum of Kshema's foiled wings. ~The key is not to fight. Lure. And have some sort of 'present' waiting for it. A trap with teeth. No anger, no rage, no fear. Just something that will not do well to any creature that means ill. Maybe we could do a _big_ old Rite of cleansing, but bind the rite into a Talen so it's released when a Wyrm-thing comes close to it.~
Sepdet glances towards the waterling. ~Besides. I think the Lady would like it better if we used something...purer. Healing, rather than hurting.~
Dillan nods, listening carefully. He's still waiting for the 'dishonorable trick' part.
Sepdet shrugs. ~That's it. Though what sort of 'lure' we need to think about more. I'm half-afraid to discuss it here anyway though, for all our quiet; it may be able to hear us.~ She raises her voice again and shrugs. ~I just don't know.~
Dillan nods, looking out towards the river after sparing a glance for the Lady of the fountain. "Sounds good. We can grab more people to help, too."
Undine lifts one slight shoulder. Flatly, *When the hurt can be healed no other way, death is acceptable. Too many of the Destroyer's children are not salvageable.*
Kshema twirls, spiraling and says softly, *Remember, it is intelligent. It must be a great lure indeed to tempt it from where it is strong and you are weak to where you are strong and it is weak.*
Sepdet murmurs, ~I'll talk it over with Arlen and mebbe some other of the more 'cool-headed' Garou. Poor Kyle-yuf. He really needs to sink his teeth into something, and I'm not sure his way's possible in this case.~ To the waterling, her expression goes softer. *I know. My packmate, Dylan, seeks to find an alternative to the Garou way, that will Cleanse without Claws. Sometimes it's necessary to cut away a sick branch that can't be healed. It is, however a loss...at least to the plant.*
Sepdet nods grimly to Kshema, a stray thought drifting towards him. *Perhaps we shall have to find a means to drop the Trap in its heart. Some Garou also have Wings.*
Dillan nods. "I like it. I hope it works, is all I'm worried about. Ain't gonna be as effective as a straight-up beatdown, I think." He shrugs, and looks to the fountain again. "And, yeah, I think it'd go over a little bit better with the more permanent residents."
Owen's only reply is a grunt. "Well, whatever you wanna do, feel free to seek me out for an extra hand."
Sepdet nods thoughtfully to Owen.
Owen turns and heads back realm-side.
Owen goes home.
Sepdet glances up again as the moonlight starts to fail and sighs. ~I'd better get back so I'm not working in the dark. I'll let you know, Dillan, what sort of brainstorming we come up with.~
Dillan ndos, his voice louder than the Strider's. "You betcha. I want in. I'll do whatever I can. Make -sure- you get ahold of me before anything goes down."
Sepdet nods firmly to Dillan. ~Will do. Will need the theurge with the city-smarts, and--~ she taps the fountain's rim, ~this is your worry.~ Then she gives a salute, tapping her priestess' lock to Dillan, favoring the water-spirit with a respectful smile, and turns to start heading back.
Dillan grins, flashing a lopsided peace sign out towards Sepdet. "Thanks," he says, "May Gaia watch your travels," he says, a bit out of character.
Sepdet's voice drifts back, ~And Fog your "cool".~ A bit more awkward for her, but well-meant. Then she vanishes in the darkness, the glimmer of the dragon curling behind her like a lemon peel.
bridge
You head out onto the dark expanse of the bridge.