This quiet little clearing is home to soft grasses and bright flowers almost year-round. Near the center stands the Story Tree. The squat pine has broad branches for sitting under, and a thick, climbable trunk for a Garou to sit in. Sharp, green needles can be found buried in the grass.
A pathway leads out to the northwest toward the Caern, and a much less-worn path leads into the forested foothills to the east.
Three-Blades lifts her lips in a snarling smile, glad to hear the outcome of the battle was successful.
Bernie slips quietly into view, saying nothing as she finds a seat to listen to the stories. She seems to be breathing a little hard, as if she might have been running.
The Shadow Lord's voice is exultant. "In the Umbra, the Rock Spirit gave a bellow of unbelieving defeat and fled up the mountain to the edge of the crags, overlooking the dark lake far below. There it keened and gibbered and glowered at the pursuing garou. Sepdet and the Wendigo Theurge Soulcatcher, both very potent Seers, approached the spirit and used their magics to command its obedience. Thus compelled, the spirit told Final Strike what it knew of the Black Spirals and of their loathsome totem, cursing and reviling its tormentors all the while. At last, satisfied that they had gotten what they needed, Final Strike lit into the spirit one last time, tearing it to shreds in the night air of the Shadow. Its final wails of despair echoed down the cliffs, fading off gradually into silence.
Jamethon growls deeply in his breast. Seeming pleased at a story of the brothers and sisters among the garou working together.
Guides-the-Dead shows no imminent response about the story Jarred tells; although at the mention of Sepdet her maw curls slightly.
Here the Shadow Lord sighs, an unmistakable tinge of bittersweet in his voice. "The battle was won. Glory and Honor belonged to Final Strike and Stonebreakers. Wisdom, however would wait for one last test. As the garou of Final Strike turned to leave the battlefield, a plaintive voice called from behind Nightflash's pack. Chloe, a mage and mate to the Alpha of the Hidden Walk, appeared from the darkness and approached the assembled garou, offering healing and solace. The proud garou scorned this offer, for they had survived the fight, and would heal their own wounded. They bade the mage depart from their midst. The fight was theirs, not hers. The mage argued and would not leave, rising instead into a nearby tree rather than leaving. After such a bloody battle, the garou of Final Strike had precious little patience to deal with such defiance. And who among us would trust ourselves around one who is not garou, after such a battle? She would not leave. Heart-of-Fury lunged forward at the sorceress, but was prevented from destroying her by Sepdet, who knew of the mage and of her relationship to the Sept Alpha and would not allow her to be harmed. The two began to fight, reopening the wounds of the battle moments ago. The mage leg loose a volley of her power and both fighting garou fell silent caught in a deep sleep. The mage's use of her power was so blatent.. In their outrage, the garou twice more demanded that she leave the scene of this battle, or forfeit her life.. that her powers were not needed, not wanted. She turned as if to leave, but instead fell to one knee and began to use her powers yet again, to heal one of the garou. There were no more warnings. Nightflash's claws struck with lightning speed, and the mage moved no longer. Finds-the-Lost followed, striking fast. Her blood flowed over the rocks a testament to her foolishness a testament to the sometimes boundless ferocity of our kind."
Ears definitely looks more than just a touch incredulous, now.
Alicia blinks her eyes open and listens silently, her grip around the gnawer's neck tightening a bit. Now, the fourth time she's heard this story, but never before in such depth.
Heart-of-Fury looks more than "a touch" skeptical. He glances at the listeners.
A vague snort comes from the nose of Guides-the-Dead, but otherwise the Silent Strider is indeed silent, appraising Jarred with her gaze. She seems content enough, however, to listen--and seems somewhat pleased with the telling.
Three-Blades's ears return to a bit more of a flattened state. Having heard this part of the story from Sepdet's side, her lips bare the tips of her fangs. However, there are two sides to every story, and her opinion is kept inside for now.
Jarred says "Wisdom had indeed come that evening. But it had come at a tremendous price. The garou of Final Strike had murdered the Alpha's Mate in a hideously gruesome fashion. Surely this might seem an unwise action, for she was there to do no harm. Chloe, likewise, had ignored three distinct warnings from the battle-worn garou to leave without incident, and refused. Her pride and her stubbornness ruled her actions. Again, where was the Wisdom? In the end, I fear, there can be no judgement for either side. Both mage and garou labored under their own codes of ethics and honor. One side was stronger, and that side won the day. It is a sad thing that transpired, for mages, especially those who can be allied with the garou, are rare and wondrous creatures. At the same time, however, they are not garou. They would do well to remember this, as would we all. I mourn the slaughter of an ally, but I hail the bravery of First Strike. I see no contradiction in doing so. Perhaps those are the only important lessons to come from that fateful night. Surely we learned, and learned well, that killing can be necessary and good, yet it is not always so.. Surely, that night, we gained the Wisdom to see that even in the midst of our greatest victories, there can exist the bitter elements of our imperfection. Our ways are harsh, but that harshness is born of generations of suspicion and Take what you will from the Battle at Lake Arthur. I present it to you, a quandary. A question. A paradox. Someday I pray you will find the answers that have thus far eluded this storyteller..""
Lion's-Roar at this moment gets to his feet and peers hard at Jarred and his story, but not without sharing that same look with Steven.
Jarred nods his head, signaling the story's close. "Thank you all for listening.." He turns to the Fostern Fianna respectfully.
Ears narrows her eyes slightly at the end of this tale, clearly still rather astonished at his choice of focus, but belts out a brief howl, testament, at least, to the story's quality.
Alicia takes a deep breath and softly begins to clap, not sure if its appropriate, but then again, she is very impressed.
Jarred nods gratefully to Ears and Alicia, before moving back away from the group to allow Heart-of-Fury is room.
Three-Blades finally lets a low rumble of conclusion rise to her throat. ~Killing one who only wished to heal, especially if that one was the Alpha's mate, is not wise. However, the Garou were brave, victorious, and smart in their fighting tactics against a monster of rock. Well told, in all. Something to think about. Good story, Jarred.~ Her ears then flicker to Heart-of-Fury.
Heart-of-Fury comes to all four feet ponderously, his massive head swiveling from the appreciation of the listeners to the storyteller. ~You make no judgment?~ He seems surprised by this. Surprised and suspicious.
Ears's attention swivels to Jarred.
~Harm of someone who did not mean it does not excersize wisdom,~ the Strider says, agreeing with Yi. ~Your words were careful and your voice carried the story well. Well-told, Storm-Singer.~
Jamethon nods to this and speaks up. "There are many forms of honor... There are little ways to earn it. I feel honored for the truth I hear in Jarred's words. He may speak words he wishes not to, but that does not hold him back."
Jarred nods. "It is good to realize that circumstances sometimes dictate behavior that other might see as unacceptable. It is also good to look with criticism at one's own actions in the light of hindsight..."
Three-Blades also notes with a chuff, ~And the fact you didn't glorify yourself in the story is honorable. I've known a few Shadow Lords who can't tell a tale without making themselves the hero.~ Her hispo jaws open in a grin at Jarred.
Lion's-Roar grumbles where he stands. ~Is it even for the Galliard to make judgement, or to tell a story, Heart-of-Fury? Now, quit stalling. Let's hear this story of yours so we can get about our business. Need to hurry as is, as I have your mother in a closet, rolled in flour.~ Heckler, yes, but it seems he fully is anticipating a good story from the Fianna.
Alicia leans back a bit and offers a quick glance to Jarred, a knowing smile touching her lips. Hopefully one day, she can be as great as the other Galliard's she's surrounded by, those she look up to.
Heart-of-Fury resumes his place in front of the dormant story tree, staying in his thick hispo form. ~It was a story well told,~ he admits. He takes a deep breath. ~This is a story of more than three years past. A story of triumph with a twist of faerie magic.~ He settles ago on his massive hindlegs.
Jarred settles down to enjoy the story, relieved that his own part is over now.
Ears perks up.
Three-Blades rivets her attention towards the Fianna now, ears drinking in the mother tongue clearly.
Heart-of-Fury says, ~There was a strange force which encroached on the land north of the Fianna grotto. Shea and I were the first ones to see it -- the first to be attacked, but we were not the first to be taken. That 'distinction' belonged to a Fianna mule called Erik Daae.~ He takes a breath, his jaw set. ~Before there was the valley of the Hidden Walk, there was the potent medicine wheel of the Wheel Renewed. There was a pack at this old Wendigo caern called Blackwatch. One of our packmates had been taken by this force - disappeared for a time and forced to serve his new master by the slavery of machinery and the threads of the Weaver spinning out of control.~
Three-Blades licks her muzzletip, glancing about for a moment and renewing her focus at Heart-of-Fury when he speaks of the Weaver.
Ears has, evidently, never heard this. Nor has she heard of Erik. She's practically absorbing Steven's words through the skin.
Jarred's eyes close slightly as the fostern's words conjure of memories of Joseph Soulcatcher speaking to him of the caern of long ago.
Jamethon appears quite pleased, content in an odd manner as he looks to the new story teller. No vested intrest in him himself, but still seeming curious as to what the elder has to say.
Lion's-Roar just smirks, an expression that carries over even in his massive, hispo form, as the Fianna goes straight ahead with the story.
~Erik and Ever-Grinning were taken, and then some others -- names which may not mean much to you youngsters and newcomers: Dusty the one I remember the most. Dusty was a slight, tall young man, shy and reserved. He was a galliard, but not the kind of duel in storycraft. He was a member of another pack of old called Usual Suspects, lead by a Silver Fang ... friend called Derrick Falcon's Wing.~ Steven pauses here, some ineffable sadness and memory readable through his body language.
Lion's-Roar straight out growls at the mention of the Fang.
Ears, who's heard of Derrick mostly because of later events, quirks her eyebrows curiously at this wistfulness of Steven's. Perhaps it's just that she rarely sees him in any mood other than anger.
Jarred perks up at the mention of Derrick, who has been spoken of fondly by many.
Guides-the-Dead has no true reaction towards Heart-of-Fury's remarks about the Silver Fang.
~Without our ragabash -- Eamon Ever-Grinning -- we asked another Fianna Davy Wears-the-Woad -- to scout out this 'nest' of the Weaver's. He did so, and we discovered to our horror that they had been horribly -- and permanently mutilated. Much like the Garou we just left at Gaia's Tears, these...~ Here the Galliard almost spits out the word, ~ 'conversions' left the Garou brainwashed and slaves to something completely alien to everything that any of us including the Sept's Alpha, my Righ -- Brian Heartsfire -- had ever seen before or since.~
Ears's ears splay back slightly at mention of Davy, but she still seems intensely fascinated by these Weaver beings.
Three-Blades wills her ears up to hear the story, the horrors done to one of her own moons compelling.
Heart-of-Fury says, ~They have been twisted with machinery -- electronics and circuits and other such things. Bodies broken and minds held in thrall, their arms had been removed at the elbow with an almost eerie preternatural precision. In place of hands, they had what I can only describe as powerful lasers, unnatural eyepieces and many had external tubing and wiring connecting parts of their bodies. Davy lead Blackwatch and the Suspects a long way north to where our Garou packmates were being held and we were determined to retrieve them.~
Guides-the-Dead's ears flicker. ~How strange.~
Jarred barely represses a shudder at the thought of such creatures. "Monstrous..." he mutters.
Ears doesn't bother to repress her shudder.
Lion's-Roar just keeps an even, narowed stare upon the storyteller.
Heart-of-Fury says, ~The metis, Erik stood silent guard over a cave, while overhead my friend and comrade Eamon floated in the air. Some little ways further off in the cave was Dusty. The Righ formed a quick plan -- we subdue only -- we do not use our open claws and teeth. Davy and Derrick stealthed forward as their moons are wont to do. The rest of us gathered in a phalanx behind the mighty adren ahroun. That's when all hell broke loose.~
Jarred is riveted to the story. Hell indeed.
Ears leans forward slightly in anticipation.
Lion's-Roar is standing, staring at the Fiaana with a critical eye as he tells his story of the past.
Three-Blades remains silent, both captivated and eager to hear what happened.
Heart-of-Fury says, ~One of the consequences of an old battle was Heartsfire's susceptibility to sudden, bright lights. They blind him completely, stun him -- he literally cannot see for several long seconds after. Yet this is what happened -- a bolt flew from what-was-Erik -- pure white light, dazzling in the dim forest -- and struck Anne, an Adren Black Fury Galliard, long since gone from the Walk. With our warleader now blinded, and under fire, we all rushed to do what seemed best. Davy and Derrick sprung from their hiding place and attacked Erik -- the shooter -- each in his own way.~ The hispo's muzzle parts in agreeable amusement as he speaks, ~I remember Davy was as fond of carrying a baseball bat into battle as I was of drinking the beer he delivered. He used that club to good effect that night, indeed.~
Three-Blades rumbles softly, imagining the scene that must've been.
Jarred smiles a bit at this thought.
Better late than never. Joshua Halfhand pauses near the woods long enough to catch the flow of the story, nodding with satisfaction at something the Fianna galliard says. Moving with surprising stealth for such a big bulk, the Get moves for an empty spot near Lion's Roar.
Kristine also seems to be fashionably late, hanging out near the edge of the area to watch her ex-packmate work his magic.
Heart-of-Fury says, ~As we all rushed forward, Eamon opened fire on us from his vantage point overhead, and hit me square in the back. The air was filled with sound of my agony and the bitter smell of charred muscle and burnt hair. Another flash since Brian into bitter frustration, and the others tried to get to some kind of cover -- protect me and the temporarily impotent Righ. They succeeded, but I do not remember precisely how.~ Heart-of-Fury pauses, blinking once, taking a soft breath, as he collects his thoughts. ~Unknown to us at the time, was that there was /another/ floating Garou conversion overhead. It was now that Anne -- wounded by Erik's first blast began to shoot arrows at these floating arsenals. Her arrows lanced through the air and when they hit their targets, they erupted into an intense burning flame. She could only use them against targets that had not once been members of this sept.~
Ears winces at the description of those arrows.
Guides-the-Dead grimaces at the mention of the arrows that burst into flame. Her eyes narrow slightly in a sort of wince.
Lion's-Roar snorts, his scowl turning up into a smirk at some part of the Fianna's story. He does, however, also manage to tilt an ear towards Joshua as he arrives.
Heart-of-Fury says, ~This second floater exploded into a shooting star of flame and hit the ground with a wet thud, the tatters of his body floating after like some kind of macabre snow. The two ragabash, meanwhile, have charged Erik, along with the others in our party -- the balance of Blackwatch: Firewatcher, Thatcher, Heartbreaker, myself and the Righ, along with Talks-to-Ghosts and Suspects. White laser fire breaks out, but the targets manage to dodge most of it and Davy's club strikes with a kind of street tough efficiency. Whack! Whack! Two wicked hits connect to the head... the metis goes down. That's when we find out the final, gruesome modification that had been made: a six inch spike slide out from his forearm and he began to move with a mechanical grace and ferocity that he never possessed before.~
Ears, again, shivers. It's apparently the idea of such bodily modifications that's disturbing her.
Jarred looks with shared revulsion at Ears, shuddering himself.
Three-Blades' hackles rise a bit, can't really imagining this in reality. Cartoons, sure...but real life? Her lips lift in a silent snarl at the gruesome, cold image.
Kristine's upper lip curls as she recognizes the story. She heard the same story from an old friend, a victim, actually, and she still doesn't like it.
Joshua Halfhand's face twices in a grimace as he just shakes his head. The big man bumps the wolf-form Get on his furry shoulder as he settles down for the rest of the story.
Heart-of-Fury says, ~Another one of these strange cyborgs shows up then. Laser leveled at our party... we were rapidly outnumbered and many of had taken harsh burn wounds. That's when Davy scored another hit on Erik and he crumpled to the ground, unconscious, but breathing. One down, but more to go, the enemy all around us -- we all knew that if any of us were captured this night we would share the same horrible fate as our septmates. Under fire, our most potent fighter still blinded -- we decide that one -- and a metis at that -- will have to suffice. We desperately scramble for cover from these blistering white shots, but with our wounds the situation looked... grim.~
Three-Blades growls softly, feeling the images dancing in front of her eyes as she gazes towards the torch Jarred had brought earlier.
Guides-the-Dead is silent, listening to the story.
Heart-of-Fury draws himself up, now, coming to all four paws. ~He was /blinded/, but not helpless or /witless./ In grave need of a calvalry, Heartsfire lifted his head up high, his throat producing an affected keening summons, a call to the ancient allies of my tribe. I do not understand the precise mechanics of such magic, but whatever Brian offered to the Fae, it must have been quite an enticement. The ground shuddered as /something/ answered his magical call for help. A little ways off in the distance a /mountain/ opened, as if on a set of hinges, and out stepped an /enormous/ troll hefting an axe the size of the tree behind me.~
Ears's glance drifts from Steven to the tree, and back to Steven, eyes widening.
Joshua Halfhand mutters to Lion's Roar under his breath. "Holy shit. I didn't know they could do that."
Three-Blades also gazes away from the fire to the tree, then imagines an axe that big, and her ears flatten.
Heart-of-Fury says, ~Even in the midst of this fierce battle, /all/ of us -- except Brian -- looked completely disbelieving and overwhelmed by this sudden ... fairy tale come to life. The troll strode forward in thick ponderous steps shaking the ground as he moved toward us. Like he summoned mountain-sized trolls all of the time, the Righ looked up and called in his pleasant Irish baritone, 'Get me the floating one, would you?' And like that, the troll turns and starts to pursue Eamon as he beat a slow retreat away from us. Even controlled as he was, he was not exactly eager to face such an enemy.~
Lion's-Roar snorts, but keeps his voice low to keep from interrupting the story. ~What? Call on others to do their fighting?~
Joshua Halfhand mutters back, "Call faeries and shit."
Lion's-Roar flicks an ear. ~Not too surprising.~
Three-Blades swishes her tail a little, humoured by the action. ~Just like a TV show.~
~Whatever it took to make such a plea to the Fae, it had robbed the adren of his strength and he fell unconscious before us, although it had literally saved us from death -- or, in this case, an even worse fate. Our pack, those who were able, at least, rushed to gather around Erik and Brian, and we all began the slow march back to the south, although we had only managed to reclaim one of our septmembers.~ Here, the Fianna exhales, falls quiet, his remaining eye glittering and studious.
And it was just the metis. The currently present metis watches Steven, intently, still drinking the words in despite the occasional slight shiver.
Jarred sits back a bit, taking it all in.
Lion's-Roar shifts upward slowly into the warform and stands to his full height. Arms crossed, ~You brought back... the metis?~ He doesn't bother to hide the scowl, but then, his ears are splayed in humor.
Three-Blades flicks her ears, curious as to what happened with the troll the size of a mountain.
Kristine leans up against a tree, always ocnsidering Steven's stories to be a treat, no matter the occassion.
Heart-of-Fury says, ~That night, yes. That business with the troll and the rest of our Weaver tainted foes was not yet concluded though. The next night, the troll came to the Fianna grotto and deposited Eamon -- unconscious into our care. And very much later, the Fae returned to collect on the debt that they were owed -- but that is a different, sad, story for another time.~
Jarred looks over to the fostern. "Well told, Heart-of-Fury. It must have been an amazing battle. I would like to have seen Heartsfire and the rest of you in action that night."
Heart-of-Fury dips his head, politely. ~Not quite as flowery as your story, I'm afraid,~ he admits. Then he shifts into crinos. ~Jarred Song-of-Fury, you have challenged me for the rank of fostern, and you have pitted your skill against mine. I have asked you to tell a story which shows Glory. Do you believe you have done that?~
Alicia nods her head and smiles, finally showing a bit of movement from her dazed spot next to the Gnawer New Moon.
Jarred nods. "I believe that I have."
Ears's expression seems to indicate /she/ thinks it did, even if he chose an odd way of doing it.
Three-Blades blinks a couple times, and flicks her ears to either side. ~A story to be remembered,~ the newmoon Gnawer chuffs quietly. Her attention turns briefly to Alicia and then goes back to the challenger and challenged.
Heart-of-Fury says, ~I asked you to tell a story which demonstrates Wisdom. Do you believe you have done that?~
Jarred thinks for a moment about that. "In truth, it was difficult to say what was wise and what was not, in my story, but on the whole.. yes. I believe that Wisdom was served, though it was clearly a treacherous and difficult road to follow."
Guides-the-Dead believes that both of your stories were glorious, honorable and wise in different points.
Lion's-Roar just stands there next to Joshua, arms still crossed as he keeps his silence for now.
Three-Blades chuffs in agreement with Allie, though the decision is not quite hers to make. Her eyes gaze towards Heart-of-Fury, tail twitching, waiting for the fostern's answer.
Kristine's eyes glance back and forth from Galliard to Galliard, an eyebrow arched.
Heart-of-Fury looks at the Shadow Lord, his talons flexing, more from force of habit than nerves or anxiousness. ~I have thought long and hard about you, Song of Fury. I have tried to set aside my personal feelings about your tribe, and focus only on you, and your deeds I know of, as a member of this sept. In truth, I think you are a gifted storyteller, and you certainly have a flair for words; these things I readily concede, but there is more to the rank of fostern than flowery language and dramatic hyperbole. I have just returned from a fight far to the north of here in a sept which is not my own. I shed blood there, saw acts of intense bravery, and saw some of the Garou there take awful wounds in the name of this War which we all fight. You must be willing to collect stories of Glory by participating in acts of Glory. You must be willing to collect stories of Wisdom by participating in acts of Wisdom.~ The Fianna pauses, collects himself, and then continues, ~It was /not/ wise what we did -- what /I/ did that night on the island at Lake Arthur. Glory must be tempered with mercy and wisdom, or it is only mindless destruction, not the righteous victory Gaia demands. That is a lesson I learned at such a high cost, and it is a lesson that others, including you, must come to know.~ Finally, Heart-of-Fury says, ~I have high standards for myself, and for those would challenge me. You are close to the mark, Jarred Song of Fury, but you are not over it in my opinion. You will one day be a fostern of this sept, I do not doubt, but that day is not today.~
Three-Blades' ears flick back momentarily, the challenge unsuccessful sinking into her mind. Amber eyes turn to look at Jarred, and the Shadow Lord's reaction.
Joshua Halfhand mutters up the the crinos next to him, "True enough."
Ears chews on Steven's words silently, some measure of respect entering her eyes. She is, nontheless, at the same time, deflating. Odd that a Bone Gnawer might be rooting for a Shadow Lord, but there you have the Walk in a nutshell.
Alicia lets out a long sigh, disapointed as well. She was hoping for a celebration this night, she even made a cake just in case. Oh well! They can eat it anyways.
The Strider has no response towards this.
Jarred turns to look at the gathered garou, silently. "With all due respect, Heart-of-Fury, I would remind you of the conditions of your challenge. You asked for a storytelling contest, not a determination of how many battles I've fought in, or what lessons I've learned in the past..."
Lion's-Roar smirks, a bit of tooth showing at the corners of his mouth. ~He's going to Hanford with me. He will learn something out of that, I am sure.~ There's no other mention about the challenge from him. He turns to look down at the other Get. ~It has been a while since we last met. And never properly.~ His arms uncross, his hands balling up into fists.
Kristine's brows arch upwards at Jarred, then cants her head at Steven.
Joshua Halfhand arches his eyebrows at that. "Funny, I thought we'd chatted more recently. Must be losing my mind in my old age." Not yet responding to the threat, if there is any, in Owen's balled fists, he says, "Go ahead."
Alicia glances over towards the two Get of Fenris, eye'n Owen's motions curiously. Pushing herself up to her feet, she dusts off her jeans, then tenses for just a moment.
Lion's-Roar snorts, in good humor at least this night. ~Chatted, yes. All talk.~ He shakes his fist at the other Get, then curls a finger at him, motioning him to get up.
Heart-of-Fury snorts softly at Jarred's reply. ~If you thought that's all this was -- a simple contest, then I'm more sure of my decision now that I ever was.~ He casts his arms wide at the group of Garou around them. ~There were many witnesses to what was said and done here tonight. If you think I have been unfair, or untrue to the terms of this challenge, then you may discuss it with Peacekeeper-rhya when he returns.~ The fostern shakes his head slightly, and adds, ~But I hope you will not.~
Joshua Halfhand returns swiftly, "Don't be rude to the challenge folks." A grin flashes across his ugly face. "You may be ready to bleed, but anticipation heightens the final effect. They'll be done soon enough."
Jarred looks closely at Heart-of-Fury. "I think that you have changed the conditions of your test. But no, I will not bother to challenge your ruling. What would be the point? Thank you for your patience, regardless." With that, the Shadow Lord turns and walks away from the tree, into the darkness.
Ears watches Jarred go, ears splaying unhappily, and then fades off into the trees herself, to patrol.
Lion's-Roar lets his voice carry this time. ~Done? I believe this challenge was over at moot when it was declared. An entertaining, evening, but futile.~ He turns this time to regard Steven.
Guides-the-Dead is gone.
Three-Blades perks her ears up at Jarred's reply, then at Steven's. Her dark furred tail swishes slowly as she thinks about the challenge and its parameters. Eyes turn as Jarred leaves, ears flattening slightly as she too rises to her paws. With a wary glance to the two Get, she dips her head to Steven. ~The challenge was to tell a story that would convince you whether he had earned enough renown to pass to fostern. I honor your decision, Heart-of-Fury-rhya, even if I may not have agreed with it.~ Her tail flickers one last time, and she chuffs a departing note. ~Gaia watch you.~ With that, she lopes off into the forest.
Heart-of-Fury just looks back at the Get. ~Nothing I said about the Shadow Lord tonight was not meant. He is close, but not ready.~ He nods toward the departing Bone Gnawer.
Alicia lets out a bit of a sigh, then nudges Three-Blades, heading back off to do her own nightly rounds. Cleaning the kitchen, and making a midnight snack. She nods her head slowly over towards the Elder Galliard and fades off as well.
Bernie rises as well, and follows the others away, looking lost in thought.
Kristine pushes off her tree, and begins moving towards the fianna.