Wheel of Ptah 1~27~96

A side chamber in a building at the Wheel of Ptah. A pair of robed acolytes stand in the doorway of the chamber, white robes over their human forms. They could as well have been carved from stone. A basin of gray stone holds a small pool of sparklingly clear water, which bubbles up from a spring at its center. From the basin the water runs down in a rivulet to a hole in the floor, which leads out to the fountain in the next room. Beside the basin stands a scribe, leaning over his book and jotting notes. The floor is of red stone tiles. The air is warm and dry, but not hot. Voices can occasionally be heard from out in the hallway or outside the building.
Contents:
Anubis
Obvious exits:
Drink
The pair of Striders crosses the moon bridge, eventually reaching the Wheel of Ptah. As you step out at this end, you are met by the Second of the Sept's Theurges. Anubis whispers something to him, and he leads you both without further question to a small side chamber not far away.
Anubis shifts into homid form, more appropriate here. "There is little to say here, Sepdet. Now is your last chance to ask any questions -- I believe you have already guessed why I have brought you here."
The scribe glances up, watching for the moment without interrupting.
Sepdet has spoken little on the journey, mentally preparing herself by losing herself in the age-old familiar mindset of travelling these ancient paths. Now, all eyes as we arrive in the place she has heard of often, but never seen, she shakes her head in the negative. ~I still have doubts, Rhya,~ she says, ducking her eyes. ~But I think I can only answer them for myself.~
Anubis nods, a slight smile on his face. ~Very well.~ He looks at the scribe. ~Sepdet, Theurge, Sept of the Wheel Renewed, Candidate. Anubis, Philodox, Sept of the Wheel Renewed, Sponsor. Sponsored in turn by Horus, back through in direct line to Isis herself.~ The words are obviously something of a pass-sign. The scribe nods and jots something in his book. ~Proceed.~
Anubis turns to Sepdet. ~The Harbingers are the Striders' eyes and ears toward the future most cannot see. We seldom wish for many of the visions, but they are our burden to bear. Tonight, you will learn whether you can withstand the visions of your mind -- and you will encounter the True and the False. If you emerge sane, you will be the Wheel Renewed's next Harbinger. If you break, I will carry you back in shame to your packmates.~ It is a simple, harsh statement. ~Drink the water.~
Tarod pages: Just "drink".
l drink
The pool shimmers brightly, water running from the spring down through a hole in the flooring.
Sepdet's face blanches slightly at the blunt words. But the Striders who raised her were not gentle either, and she carefully kneels, facing her reflection--crinos, though she does not wear that shape--with a thin-lipped expression before bowing her head to lap the water.
drink
You drink form the spring. At first, nothing seems to happen. Then, without warning, your throat seems to constrict. Stars dance before your eyes, and your hands go numb. The world seems to close in around you... and then all goes black. After a short while, you feel yourself drifting, and you stop... You feel stone hard beneath your feet. Slowly, your eyes open on a truly ugly scene.
Umbra: Blasted Plateau(#1944RJ)
This is a vision near out of Purgatory itself. Dark clouds boil in the night sky overhead, lit by the occasional flash of heat lightning. Despite the roiling clouds, there is no wind -- everything is preternaturally still. This area was probably once a desert, but even the veneer of sand dunes has been stripped away, leaving barren, blasted rock. Nothing living would ever want to stay here for long; in fact, it looks as though nothing ever did live here, nor could it.
And yet ... there is a feeling all around that eyes watch your back, and the occasional sound of scraping on the rocks is unnaturally loud -- with no apparent source.
The last thing that reaches your eye in a flash of heat lightning is the scattered pile of bones -- human, Garou, wolf ... and other things of unknown origin. The moon and stars are lost behind the boiling ceiling of clouds.
Sepdet crosses her arms in front of her chest in a warding gesture, stumbling a step backwards on the dead rock. Her eyes automatically glance up to seek her name-star, then back as she forces herself, shaken, to look at this ugly vision of a broken world.
There is a soft sound behind you. There stands Anubis -- in crinos form. He does not seem entirely real, however -- his form shimmers immaterially like a ghost. And there is something else not quite right -- he is much, much younger than today. Gone are the burn scars and the white fur around the eyes.
The ghostly figure looks at Sepdet with slight amusement. ~D'Siah, is it not? The cub. Interesting that your visions should have brought you to this place.~ His tone is not mocking in the least, simply interested in a scientific sort of way.
Sepdet winces at the old name she lost. ~D'siah came and went, Rhya.~ She looks around hollowly. ~Like this place, which smells like the land we do not have.~
Anubis laughs. ~A keen intellect you seem to have developed. This _is_ the land we do not have, Sepdet. To me, you still have that name -- I am but newly Fostern myself. I assume, though, that my reality still lives in your time -- I am but an echo of him, a shadow he left here. What are you called now?~
Sepdet lowers her eyes. ~Just Sepdet. One calls me Bennu, Phoenix, because I put so much faith in that prophecy, and because--~ she holds up her hands to her face...~they pulled me back from death once. But I don't like to remember that.~
Sepdet looks at Anubis frankly, sniffing the wind as if testing his scent.
Anubis smells like nothing -- and there is no wind to sniff. All is still, despite the boiling clouds.
It is almost as though he is not really there -- a true shade.
Sepdet sighs and looks back out, glance lingering on the bones with the inner twinge of a Groundskeeper who can neither bury nor do anything to heal the spirit of this land. Without thinking, she begins to walk.
The shade of Anubis laughs quietly. ~You may as well wait. He is coming to see you.~ As if on cue, a distinct set of scraping noises is heard off to one side. Whatever it is is large.
Sepdet halts, jaw braced, and turns towards the sound.

Long distance to Tarod: Sepdet is reminded of an old Egyptian myth where Sekhmet is amused by two jackals she is stalking. "Why do you not run?" she asks. "Why," say they. "You could easily overtake us. Why should we wear ourselves out and die tired?"
From afar, Tarod laughs.

A great Crinos, black and grey, climbs up upon the plateau. With a glance at Anubis's shade, he says, ~Begone, echo of the past. The real you will return to me soon enough.~ With a wave of his hand, the shade disappears. He looks at Sepdet. ~Welcome home,~ he says, expression sardonic. ~Are you ready?~
The figure smells, not of death in progress, but the dry, dusty smell of the long-dead. In fact, while great and burly, he looks none too well assembled, as though parts of him are old beyond decrepitness.
Sepdet looks at the huge crinos with more than a little trepidation. ~Of course not,~ she says, finding her dry coyote's voice somewhere in her nervousness. She does not move towards the huge crinos, eyes narrowed in wary challenge. ~Who are you? You smell like an echo of the past yourself.~
The figure chuckles darkly, and does not answer directly. ~My name does not matter. And if you are not ready ... well, then I will perhaps be merciful and simply begin with the past.~ He rakes a great claw through the still air, and the world on one side seems to rip away like a torn tapestry. Through it, a glow begins to form.
The glow becomes a fire, burning blue and unnatural. It comes closer and closer, almost a zoom-in. The whole northern side of the plateau's sky disappears like a torn scrim, and the scene becomes a familiar one, the last great gathering of the tribe -- But now you are much closer...
[regretfully I must snip a bit here]
Wepauwet scratches at himself, more fur coming loose and crumbling to dust. He watches Sepdet for a moment, gauging her reaction, if any.
Sepdet looks at Wepauwet in frustration. ~Heru was there. I still do not believe it. I never had the courage to ask him why.~
Wepauwet does not answer. He merely waves his hand again, and a new scene appears -- Horus, beset by six banes. You watch as he is shredded to pieces and pulled apart like a Thanksgiving turkey. The banes howl in triumph, and depart with trophies. All that is left are a few small fragments of bone. Time passes, and the flesh falls away. Someone approaches, though the face is not clear, gathers the bones, and treks back, eventually reappearing in familiar territory -- the Wheel.
One of the bone fragments is left on the ledge. The 'camera' ignores the person who walks away -- and shows Anubis -- recently, it seems -- pick it up. He grinds it to powder, and puts it in a pouch. Suddenly, you are at the Burial Mounds, in a crowd.
Sepdet licks her lips unhappily, having to look away from Horus' death as she did not at the last vision.
The recent burial. Thorn and the rest of the Fangs. Anubis uses the bone powder to call up Horus' image, and you notice something you and few others seem to have missed. At one point in the ceremony, Horus' arm comes up ... to point at your image. Anubis simply nods toward him. The scene disappears.
Wepauwet scratches more deeply. The skin itself peels off his arm, exposing muscle and sinew. Blood runs over the muscle sheath. Wepauwet grits his teeth, and scratches a bit more at the fur on his chest as well.
Wepauwet says, ~The past, the easiest of them.~
Sepdet seems comforted by Horus' gesture and meets the gaze of the ghost-vision wistfully. ~Not always.~ She takes an discomfited step back from the decaying creature, still not at all pleased with her guide, but waits for the next thing to see.
Wepauwet reaches out with his other hand, and rips the sky down from the other side. Gone is the boiling sky -- the plateau stands amid a starless nothingness. ~The present.~ Off to the other side, a new picture forms...
Anubis can be seen, sleeping at Wepauwet's feet. As you watch him sleep, you seem to zoom into his head, and a new picture comes up as Anubis fades. Jars on a table. Many, many jars. The jars are three times the height of a crinos. Familiar people are on the rims of them, perched as though on a windowsill, and a few people are even within the jars -- Toxic. Duskreader.
Long distance to Wepauwet: Sepdet smiles. I had wondered when we would be able to pick up this thread again. Toxic assigned me to investigate.
Over the top of the field of jars, a falcon flies high. A wolf of average size runs through the group, chasing another version of Duskreader.
From afar, Wepauwet chuckles. All in time. Here's the big revelation...
A great figure towers over it all, hands outstretched. His face is lost in shadow. A jackal appears next to you -- Nekheb. ~Who is Shepitra?~ he asks.
Sepdet's eyes hurriedly skip across the jars for clues, then comes up with a start as the prickly wanderer appears. She takes another step back, snarling. ~He isn't here!~ Her hands clench in frustration. ~You know, but you never tell anything until it's too late, do you, Rhya?~
Sepdet's tone is bitter.
Sepdet looks up at the giant form, straining to make out some feature.
Nekheb laughs, and disappears. The great figure in the dark raises his hands -- ivy surrounds the table, crowding around, enveloping it all. There is no need to strain -- suddenly, there is a great flash of golden light, and the glyph of Ra burns blindingly in your retinas. In the afterimage, you recognize a familiar face...
...That odd coroner. The one who hangs out at the DWR. The scene fades out.

You paged Wepauwet with 'Warren Ramsey, the 'gardener'. :) '.
From afar, Wepauwet cha-ching.
Long distance to Wepauwet: Sepdet figgered that out last year from something said at Feralia. (well, it wasn't entirely unobvious, but I was pleased)

Wepauwet's fur begins to slough off in earnest, leaving him looking almost like a biology model.
Sepdet blinks rapidly to clear her vision, shielding her eyes with her hands.
Wepauwet gestures with a bloody, furless hand. Another pair of scenes appear in quick succession.
Sepdet turns faintly gray as the sight of her grisly guide is the first thing to snap back into focus, and she tries to keep her eyes on the visions and away from him.
A scene in Wolf Woods. A shadow of a wolf, another Garou. A claw swings from nowhere, connects with the shadow. Blood splatters, along with fur, across the bark of a nearby stand of trees. The scene fades to horrible laughter.
Wepauwet's bleeding stops, dries, scabs. The muscle tissue itself seems to begin to fade.
Another woodland, it is uncertain where. Dark shadows run through the trees, pursued by fire. The scene is engulfed in flame, and fades.
Wepauwet's ears crumble, and fall off. With a gesture, the blasted plain itself disappears, and the pair floats in blackness; impenetrably wide without light. ~The future, the dark of the Garou kind.~
A new scene fades in. Umbral woodland. A raccoon appears, walking down the trail. Bundled in his arms are a pile of trinkets; a ring, a bracelet, a wooden carving.

Wepauwet pages: Do you know Bes-por-Numin?
Wepauwet pages: Or Amarna?
Wepauwet pages: Amarna was the raven-haired woman in the first vision.
Long distance to Wepauwet: Sepdet hmms.... I think Sepdet would recognize her, but isn't sure...
Long distance to Wepauwet: Sepdet has seen Amarna's face once, just a flash, in a dream, but didn't know who she was. Bes, I've never met.

Sepdet sighs heavily as she spies the raccoon. ~Heya, little one.~
Wepauwet drops one of the items as it notices Sepdet. The piece bursts into flame as it hits the 'ground'. The raccoon chitters. ~Hello.~
Sepdet kneels. ~I'm sorry. There will be other shinies, other packs.~
[OOC note: Anubis had not yet announced he was leaving Crossing, and it was some months before it disbanded and reformed as Ouroboros.]
The raccoon drops the next one as it nods in agreement. It, too, bursts into flame. There is a sudden flash like an afterimage picture off to one side -- a bald, tattooed albino...
The raccoon looks a bit more upset now, and seats himself a bit more carefully near a rock. Carefully, he sets out the four trinkets he has left. Two he picks back up immediately -- leaving a silver bracelet and a silver ring.

You paged Wepauwet with 'Ow, this hurts. Quiet and Patrick asked Soulcatcher and me if we would come into Crossing. I was so torn between that and the pack I dream of making. I don't know if I would have made any difference for Crossing, and never even asked Anu and Kate about it, but... (sniff)'. I know they won't last much longer.
From afar, Wepauwet nods. Fun, fun, fun. Visions are not your friend.

Sepdet makes an encouraging noise. ~Hold on a little longer, Mask. Packs rise and fall. Kit had many more games, even after Bluefur left him.~
The raccoon looks at the two silver objects -- one bursts into flame and smolders -- it is uncertain whether it has been destroyed or not. The silver ring, though, moves of its own will off to one side.
An owl flies down to land atop the shiny ring, and carry it off. The scene fades.
Sepdet sighs and nods, unsurprised, but saddened.
Wepauwet shudders, and the musculature decays at an impossible rate, falling to dust. A crinos skeleton stands there, only its eyes still intact. It gestures again, and another scene appears.
The raven-haired woman and Anubis -- standing before his den. They talk for a while, and she gestures that he should leave -- whether he wants to go or not is unclear, but it is obvious that he believes it is his duty.
Sepdet scowls at nothing and stirs uneasily, echoes of the old dream in which she first saw this woman no pleasure to her at all.
Anubis is shown, older now, running at the head of a pack of jackals -- across the blasted plateau from earlier. They run up to you; Anubis is older, grey now. Beside him stand two young, strong-looking males. ~Hello, Hope,~ he says.
You paged Wepauwet with 'Is he in jackal-form?'.
Wepauwet pages: Yes.
Sepdet drops to one knee and hesitates for a moment, glancing at the two...his own? She puts her arms around her elder's neck and rubs her face against his streaked pelt as she would never have dared to in life. ~Rhya? You will go back to guard the w'neshu, the jackals?~ It is her wistful voice again. ~In this blasted land?~
Anubis shakes his head. ~Not to guard them. To gather them, build them, and prepare them. The Conflict comes soon now.~ He nods toward each of those beside him in turn. ~My sons, Duamutef and Ap-uat.~ The two, who look much like Anubis did when you first met him, incline their heads gravely to the Theurge.
As they stand there, the pack seems to grow, more and more of the lupine forms joining in the back.
Sepdet dips her gaze respectfully to the pair, eyes glittering as she looks out across the huge gathering. There is faint hope in her expression; one reared in a jackal's den cannot help but find comfort in so many. ~I will stand at the Wheel, whatever Strider leads there,~ she says tightly. ~Have you any orders for me?~
Anubis says, ~Guard the wheel. Help the others. Slay the Wyrm. Keep them true in their hearts, for the old ones were both right -- the battle will be by the heart AND the claw.~
Sepdet gathers the sight of all the Striders into her heart, and nods. ~We will keep the Wheel, and it shall not fall before we do. Phoenix willing, it shall remain after.~
Anubis nods, and the blackness of nothing returns -- only Sepdet and Wepauwet remain. Wepauwet's eyeballs burst into flame. ~THE END,~ he says, in a sepulchural voice, and points...
Sepdet goes rigid. This, she does not know if she can see.
Anubis' place. A platform stands over the blue fire, waist-height. On it lies a shrouded figure.
Other figures fade in. Seven. Tall. Black-robed. Their faces are not visible.

You paged Wepauwet with 'Meanie. :)'.
From afar, Wepauwet is much meaner than you imagine, my dear girl. :)
From afar, Wepauwet laughs. And yes, I'm making this up as I go. I have a tiny little post-it with notes jotted on it. This is why I never remember stuff. :)

The one in the most ornate robe removes his hood. ~Ah, so she returns to us. Welcome to the fruit of all our labors, Sepdet,~ Horus says. He smiles toothily.
Sepdet holds her breath. ~That is not you,~ she says, pained, and keeps well back. ~It is not Heru.~
Horus laughs. ~Oh, I am real.~ He gestures. ~Allow me to introduce my companions.~ To his right, an unfamiliar woman's voice speaks. ~The Wyrm was more powerful. War is its tool, and we were fool enough to meet it on its own terms. If you can't beat 'em, join 'em.~ She removes her hood -- the raven-haired woman again. Amarna.
Sepdet looks at Amarna with hate that flashes to pity. ~You let him close to you from the start, Rhya. Aset's face you had, but her brother Set's as well. I saw it long ago, when you took Heru's bones and scattered them so I couldn't find them.~ She looks down at the fire. ~But you missed a trace. The Wyrm always misses something. There will be embers, no matter how many of us fall, Heru.~
Horus gestures left, and the next figure speaks. ~Too many seek to win, both the Wyrm and the Garou. The End comes, Sepdet; we must think of what is beyond the horizon. The End is inevitable, and all the lines of reality converge in the end. This is the convergence. It is prophecied, and has come to pass -- we are one. This is not good or evil -- it is Truth.~ The hood falls. Anubis.
Again, Horus gestures right, and the next speaks. ~Reality as you know it is a mockery of the End Time. Laugh while you may, and fear and wonder if you wish, but the ultimate irony is that all is one. All came from one, and to one it returns. What a great joke.~ The hood is removed. From the dusty parts of your memory, you recognize him. Thoth.
Sepdet listens grimly. ~The wyrm, the weaver, the wyld--in the beginning there was balance. If it comes back to that, in an egg...so be it.~
Horus gestures left again. The fifth figure speaks. ~At last, daughter. At last I have found a way to purge the evil from Garou. You need to remake the society, destroy what was there. We have finally done that, and are ready to move on to a better thing.~ Anpwhotep removes his hood.
Wepauwet pages: It is obvious that Jackal is who's speaking.
Sepdet does not meet her shattered stepfather's eyes, nor deigns to answer the one that speaks through him.
Long distance to Wepauwet: Sepdet aiiiiighh!!!!. (Jackal: the only part of Tep with a backbone, and the least likeable one.)
The last two stand with their back to you, facing the figure on the table. The next one steps to the side, and pulls off the shroud from the figure's head. It is the dark-skinned man, dead, bloated and bloody-faced. ~My dear sister, it is good to see you again. At last we will finally be a family.~ Sebek removes his hood and turns to look at you.
Sepdet's eyes brim at the face a mirror of her own. ~Sen...~ At that, she finally steps forward among them, placing her hand over her twin's small one, to look down at the face of the dead one her twin has uncovered.

Wepauwet pages: The one who originally issued the challenge. Bes-por-Numin.

The final figure turns toward you, and reaches for its hood with oddly-familiar hands...
A true mirror-image of you looks you in the eye. Your mirror image speaks softly, but the words thunder in your brain. ~In the End, Everything simply IS. HOPE. IS. DEAD.~
From afar, Wepauwet is going to use a little GM fiat here and basically make you black out here. Choose your pose to do so.
Sepdet gropes for her brother's hand for support...and loses his touch, as the world falls away from her.
Wepauwet's bone-body explodes into oblivion as Sepdet passes out.
out
Your vision blurs, and you fall heavily to the ground. You are unconscious for an indeterminate period of time, and then you wake on the cold tile floor of...
Wheel of Ptah(#1927RJ)
A side chamber in a building at the Wheel of Ptah. A pair of robed acolytes stand in the doorway of the chamber, white robes over their human forms. They could as well have been carved from stone. A basin of gray stone holds a small pool of sparklingly clear water, which bubbles up from a spring at its center. From the basin the water runs down in a rivulet to a hole in the floor, which leads out to the fountain in the next room. Beside the basin stands a scribe, leaning over his book and jotting notes. The floor is of red stone tiles. The air is warm and dry, but not hot. Voices can occasionally be heard from out in the hallway or outside the building.
Contents:
Anubis
Obvious exits:
Drink
Anubis looks down at Sepdet as she opens her eyes. ~Welcome back.~
Anubis contorts and blurs as he is transformed.
Anubis shifts into Homid form.
The scribe looks on, waiting for the young woman to recover.
Sepdet covers her face, unmoving for a while. Finally she looks up numbly, wiping away tears. She makes no sound.
Yasif Hassan does not move to help her. He waits, not knowing even if she still retains sanity.
Sepdet signs, not speaks: One does not fight truth.
Yasif Hassan smiles faintly. He steps forward, and extends a hand to her to help her up.
Sepdet is no weight at all as she stands, taking the hand tightly. She looks down at the water, neither happy nor sad.
Sepdet says, ~You...you said: fight Wyrm. Hope. But in the end. Balance. The Wyrm and we will be same. Why hope? Why fight?~
Yasif Hassan cocks an eyebrow. ~I am not certain what you mean. We always must hope, or we fall. We always must fight, until the End Time wraps all of reality into one.~ He turns her toward the scribe. ~It may be hard, but you must tell him of your visions now, before anyt detail fades.~
Yasif Hassan pages: Just make a simple pose saying you either do or don't -- I don't expect you to repeat the whole thing.
Sepdet swallows and walks over to the man. After making sure he understands, she lapses back to sign again to repeat what she has seen: apparently it is easier for her than speaking right now.
Oddly enough, the scribe seems fine with the sign -- he apparently can write without watching himself do so. He transcribes it all and nods.
Yasif Hassan takes a knife off the scribe's stand. ~You have seen well, Sepdet. Truth is not all it seems. A true seeing can be misinterpreted -- do not be drawn into believing that seeing with your eyes will show you all. Some things may not be as they seem.~
Yasif Hassan holds the gleaming dagger lightly. ~Bare your heart, Sepdet.~
Sepdet nods, and drops her cloak to the floor, slides her travelling-clothes...a simple knee-length flannel tunic...over her shoulders, baring herself to the waist. Her brown skin is still faintly gray, but she stands quite still.
Yasif Hassan draws with the point of the blade over the center of her breastbone -- an udjat, the Eye of Horus. ~So marked are all the Harbingers,~ he intones, and then re-covers her with her clothing. ~Congratulations, Sepdet, and consolations. Regardless, welcome.~
Sepdet seems to consider for a careful moment, before she says, ~Thank you, Rhya.~ She sags slightly, the shock of what's happened finally catching up with her, and looks back at the pool, where a mule's reflection, as always, meets her gaze.
Yasif Hassan says, ~Now go, and get some rest. The guides will show you to a room. We go home tomorrow, and I can answer questions then.~
A guide comes in, waiting patiently.
Sepdet pulls her cloak around herself, though here is surely not cold. After a faint thin smile at her elder, she pads after the guide.

Yasif Hassan pages: Poof, end of story. :)
You paged Yasif Hassan with 'Somehow 'wow' seems an inadequate thing to say, under the circumstances. :)'.
l yasif
A tall young man, probably in his mid- to late 20s. His eyes look decades older, as though an old man looks out from behind them. His skin is fairly dark, possibly of arab descent. His hair is nearly jet-black and cut fairly short, his eyes darkest brown and deep. His face is impassive, a study in neutrality at most times. He is dressed oddly, in the off-white robes of a desert nomad.
He has a great deal of scar tissue on one half of his face, as though he was once horribly burned. He looks quietly back at you.
From afar, Yasif Hassan chuckles. Well, here's the catch -- you get to emit stuff on the Feralia run. I've got enough prophecy sucked out of my brain to give myself a headache. :)
Long distance to Yasif Hassan: Sepdet ooos, you evil, evil man. Okay. Good thing I have some plots planned for the next few years. Maybe I can get Eligio to @emit a few cryptic hints, too.