It's getting cold and due to get colder, the smell of moisture in the air and frosting on the wind. Overheat the full moon glows in a clear starry sky and the woods would be quiet save the cry of wolf howls and rippling growls that echo through the trees. Moot is a modest affair with the caern's population slim but Garou gather still as is their duty, their bodies illuminated by the fire that helps ward off winter's coming chill. Consumes-Shadows is present among them, the Shadow Lord elder looking particularly somber and deep in thought. The Ahroun stands with his arms across his chest, the talons of one hand tapping idly against his scarred forearm. Other groups of Garou are present, chattering in their little packs or tribal groups, but the Lord stands alone.

It seems that the Shadow Lord won't be alone for too long. Justin ambles over towards the Elder with a new-found swagger in his step. Now that he has announced to the Sept he is a Fostern, he can't help but feel pretty good about his state of affairs. "You look lonely." He drawls out to him, giving him a bump of the shoulder with his own scrawny arm.

~Why should I be?~ Asks Consumes-Shadow as he looks down to the Bone Gnawer. ~Even if my pack may be facing splitting apart, it doesn't mean anyone has died. There is a sept here. Ronin are lonely. Not that all may care that they are.~ He snorts quietly before shifting the topic, ~So I see your name remains the same even as a Fostern?~

"Yeah. Well.. your packmate didn't bother to hook me up with a deedname. Even if he did, he'd probably give one that is long and goofy. I like Mouse Trap. It works. It's the one I gave myself since I didn't even get one after my passage rite. It seems everyone is just fucking lazy when it comes to me." Justin says with a smirk on his face. "Anyways, if your pack /does/ break up, you can always join us coyotes. We're the honorable type that I'm sure you'd fit in with."

Felix saunters along after his packmate, taking in the current arrangement of Garou as he goes -- who's chatting with whom, how pleased or otherwise they seem to be doing it. He gives Thane a nod of greeting, and Justin's suggestion gets a small laugh. "Renowned far an' wide for our honour and wisdom," he agrees, "Can't see how anyone could resist."

~Hah.~ Remarks the Adren dryly. ~I would hate to inflict a Shadow Lord upon you and make anyone suspect you're up to no good.~ Consumes-Shadows gives a nod of his head towards Felix. ~In any event, that doesn't surprise me Dawn-Howler declined to give you a name. He's not a fan of your's but honor dictated he accept the challenge or be looked upon poorly, especially after his actions. Clever, by the way, to challenge him. In any event, Coyote-followers aside, it's good to hear your pack is going strong. I might see to reforming a new pack as Guardians, if there are willing participants, but time will tell.~

<OOC> To the caern, Fwiffo sighs. Can't really do a revel of two...
<OOC> To the caern, Justin says ".. Three. Felix is here."
<OOC> To the caern, Fwiffo says "Oh, funny. I didn't read Consumes-Shadows as a name for a moment there."
<OOC> To the caern, Felix heh.
<OOC> To the caern, Consumes-Shadows eyes.
<OOC> To the caern, Fwiffo says "Don't hate me!"
<OOC> To the caern, Felix says "...and now I am imagining Thane devouring Elan. >_>"
<OOC> To the caern, Fwiffo says "Right in the nostalgia, Felix."

"We're always up to no good. You'd probably elevate our illustrious status even more." Justin says with a wide grin on his face as he glances over to Felix and nods. "Yeah, it was pretty clever, huh? It's why I challenged him. I figured if I would have bested him, it'd be an epic prank. A lowly Gnawer that he thinks is a piece of shit stepped up and took down a Silver Fang at his own game of cunning."

Consumes-Shadows utters a quiet chuff of amusement. ~Somewhere, I suspect you have Lord blood, boy. Or perhaps the Gnawers just learned a few lessons from us. I suppose no one will really know.~ And time passes and the three converse until moot proper begins. The totems are honored, the Fool is scorned, the Cracking passes without bloodshed. It's typical and largely uneventful with the largest part being the passing of news and fretting ovet the long-running threats to the caern. As the moot concludes, Consumes-Shadow steps forward with a booming, roaring howl. ~The time for talk is over! The moon is full and too often have we sat idle while the Wyrm rages. Tonight we fulfill our duty to Nation and Gaia. Tonight we glory under the guiding light of Luna. Tonight we HUNT!~

"I liked it," Felix says, nodding at Justin's profession of cleverness, and settles in when the moot begins, for certain values of settle. He's restless, although not quite so much as to be out of line; it's not that he isn't paying proper attention, just that he can't currently stay still for very long. The passing of news and other information actually gets quite a lot of attention, really, along with the stories and songs, and the howl is nice and enthusiastic. Perhaps not quite as much as the way he hops to his feet when Consumes-Shadows begins the revel, though.

The warriors and hunters of the Caern are lead out onto the bawn where the engling hunt is to begin. Reflection's-Howl of the Fenrir starts a howl with a eerie keening sound to it as several points of light begin to shimmer in mid-air just a few meters out from the Garou. The leader of the hunt seems to have expected this and quickly, by practically barked our orders, organizes several groups to fixate on each of the lights.

Taking the form of the Hispo form, Mouse-Trap moves along with the Wyrmfoe's instructions and takes off after one of the lights. He finds himself in the Shadow Lord's camp, giving a chuff to his packmates who attended to do the same. Howling loudly to the sky which sounds more like the barking of an angry dog, he takes off through the night with a gleeful look upon his face.

Consumes-Shadows joins the Coyotes - perhaps due in part to some opinion of the Wyrmfoe or simply by how own choosing to provide extra muscle for the young pack. He moves alongside Mouse-Trap, leaving the younger Ahroun to guide his pack as the Adren provides leadership. ~Don't rush in until we learn the nature of these things. Surround it, watch each other's backs and be ready to strike once the enemy shows its hand.~

Lets-Them-Eat-Cake follows his Alpha's lead and instructions, shifting to Hispo as well and running exuberantly along with his pack. The Galliard joins Mouse-Trap's howl, his own more on the melodic side of things but no less emphatic for it.

The lights suddenly take off, but they all fly to, around and through each other as they take on various forms of brightly glowing light. Doves, deer, what appears to be a pixie, a couple of rabbits, wild turkey, goose and others. The group consisting of the Coyote pack, Consumes-Shadows, and others is fragmented slightly in the early chaos but Mouse-Trap, Consumes, and Lets-Them-Eat-Cake remains in their group on the tail of the pixie spirit which leaves a glorious trail of sparkling dust behind her.

~We aren't a war pack.~ Mouse-Trap calls over to the Shadow Lord with a wily grin upon his lupine muzzle. ~We got our ways that seem to work in our favor. We will defer to your lead though, as you /are/ our better.~ As they barrel down the path after Tinkerbell, he runs through the glittering dust, letting it sparkle about his fur.

Mid-run, Consumes-Shadow begins on two legs and thumps to the ground on Hispo paws. ~I know you're not, but Rage is Rage. We are predators, regardless of how wily our totems. Never forget.~ When their prey shows no signs of harming them, the Lord picks up the pace and begins to move towards a flanking position. As he goes, he keeps his eyes fixated on the pixie, studying his prey as they pursue it.

Lets-Them-Eat-Cake aims toward the other flank, unless given other instructions, getting sparkling dust over his own fur as well. He laughs, focus mainly on the pixie, but keeping an eye on the location of the others as well. ~We're damn festive-looking predators just now.~

The dust fades a few seconds after it lands on them but there is definitely a tingle there. This spirit's chosen form seems to have a side-effect of shedding small bits of gnosis out into the air. The hunt goes on for some time, with the spirit darting this and that way. The hunting group comes across others, tracking their spirit occasionally but each is enjoying the hunt too much to do more than give brief acknowledgements.

The group hears the pixie laugh like music, a flute's perfect note traveling through tiny silver bells. The spirit is enjoying this, certainly and is eager to do its part in the cycle. Suddenly, as the spirit peels away from the group further out, some kind of thing that looks like it is made of uncooked grey clay's psuedo-pod latches on to the spirit which screams out in a terrifed cry which is greatly dischordant with the still lingering wonderous laughter of just a moment before.

~Woah! That's not cool! That /thing/ just ate Tinkerbell!~ Mouse Trap howls out to the two members of his pack as he gives a jerk of his head. ~Fan out, form a triangle about it, come it from three directions. I'll go in first to test the waters.~

There's a brief, gruff snarl from Consumes-Shadow as the pixie spirit is caught. He takes up one of the flanking positions as he'd suggested surrounding earlier. He curls back his lips and gapes salivating jaws. The Adren roars out as he swings his head at the grey mass and whatever shadow it may cast to send droplets of saliva flying.

Lets-Them-Eat-Cake growls, startled, as their quarry becomes something else's, and there's a hint of a nod along with the other signs of acceptance of Mouse Trap's instructions as the Galliard heads to the next unoccupied point of that triangle, attention on his teammates and their new adversary as the remaining sparkles surrounding them fade away.

The spirit is covered in this gunk which flows onto the surface of the spirit and in through its mouth, covering the poor thing entirely, inside and out. The spirit is suddenly silent, the sounds from other hunting groups which are fully engaged in their hunts is intensified now that the laughter and movement through the trees is no longer pounding through this group's ears. The pixie looks the same, but dark and dull. The dust still flows from off of its form and they too are dull and grey and sad, landing heavily on the ground where the grass beneath doesn't wither and die but simply falls over as if even iit were suddenly depressed.

When the Shadow Lord's saliva goes flying the spirit notices its hunters and as opposed to the playful nature of before, appears genuinely afraid and begins to fly away once more, attempting to make it through the largest gap it can in the three, between Consumes and Mouse Trap.

With a snarl in his jaws, Mouse-Trap blurs forward to close the distance, then makes the giant leap forward, looking to drive his jaws into the beast and drag it ot the ground. He calls upon his gift of falling touch to make the job easier.

~Capture the engling!~ Consumes-Shadows snarls commandingly at the coyote pack. ~This thing is a parasite. It is consuming the energy of the faerie. We cannot let the little one escape or it will be as the other is.~ He turns his focus back to the parasite itself and lunges forward. He does not move directly for it, though, and instead moves to lash out with his forepaws to claw at the creature's shadow with the speed of his totem and an experienced Ahroun.

Lets-Them-Eat-Cake eyes the effect on the pixie, though he seems about to attack the grey thing with the others until the Shadow Lord gives other instructions. He goes directly for the engling, then; it arguably has reason to be genuinely afraid now, since as he starts to move he says, ~'fraid I don't have any way to =capture=.~ He puts on a burst of speed and leaps to try to catch the poor pixie in his jaws.

The spirit moves fast, as the pixie did before, but doesn't seem to have the same guile or playfulness. It moves in a straight line without much in the way of any real attempts at dodging. Mouse-Trap's first attack does miss, just from having to close the distance. The Gnawer's falling touch does hit the mark and seems to have an effect, despite the strangeness of the target. It suddenly loses the power of flight and lands, still in a run. In a one-two, Consumes-Shadow's swipe at the thing's shadow sends it sprawling foward, and the jaws of Lets-Them-Eat-Cakes snatches it up. Perhaps, due to the warning from the Shadow Lord, the spirit isn't immediately crushed and destroyed by the Garou's might.

<OOC> To the caern, Lets-Them-Eat-Cake is a little confused how many things we have.
<OOC> To the caern, Consumes-Shadows thought there was the pixie and the parasite?
<OOC> To the caern, Fwiffo says "Just the one. Spirit with a parasite on it. We're.. basically done? :)"
<OOC> To the caern, Fwiffo says "I mean, I have to run as it is in just a minute. But there is definitely a decision to make and some aftermath."
<OOC> To the caern, Consumes-Shadows nods, "Alrighty. Sorry, was helping with the offspring. I thought there were two spirits. XD The pixi and what attacked it.

Scrambling up to his paws, Mouse-Trap watches the two packmates deliver the attack upon the spirit. Settling himself down on his haunches to watch the show, he thumps his tail heavily upon the ground.

As the infected spirit is captured, Consumes-Shadow lifts his head to howl. He summons the nearest Theurge or Theurges in range, bidding them to come inspect an injured spirit. Once done, he turns back to the Gnawers. ~We could destroy it, but as it was sent to us by the caern totems I will leave that decision to those more familiar in spirit matters than I. So we will wait. There is bound to be a Theurge near.~

<OOC> To the caern, Consumes-Shadows says "Can leave it at that, pick up another time? Mebbe James can hear the howl then?"

The spirit doesn't whimper, whine, or cry. It does look afraid though, silently and mournfully. Like a sad dog in a cage in an 'adopt this dog or it will be murdered' commecial. In fact, that is what Lets-Them-Eat-Cake literally seems to taste. Sadness in a raw distilled form and though he knows it is an effect, the Galliard Gnawer can't help but feel this sorrow begin to take hold as the spirit in physical form lingers in his mouth.

Once he has it, Cake attempts to hold the pixie as lightly as he can manage without letting it get away, but given the effect just its dust has on other spirits at present, is more willing to risk more harm to it than intended than allowing escape. He sits back on his haunches as well, looking reasonably pleased with the capture at first, but he gradually settles lower, ending up lying down with his head resting on his paws, still holding the spirit but looking unreasonably melancholy.