A Dream For Dawn's Fire

 Limbo pages all: Limbo notes for all that this happens after you've fallen asleep this evening.

You paged Blood-of-Ages with 'You awaken, naked, cuddled in the arms of a large, densely muscular man. His sun-beaten skin is laced with white scars, large and small, and his tawny hair is bleached white-gold on top, while snow grizzles the short, rough beard on his chin. In sleep, the lines of his face smooth somewhat and reveal a handsome man with a nose that was once broken badly and set worse, but the traces of the wrinkles suggests a man who has seen little happiness in his life. As you watch his face, he opens crystalline cobalt-blue eyes to your regard.
The bed is a strange rounded air mattress tucked as the floor of a low, rounded shelter made of some kind of plastic and patched many, many times with a variety of materials. A round patch opposite the occupants of the bed is, apparently, the door. A little pile of other gear is tucked off to the side.'.

You paged Scott with 'You awaken, naked, cuddling close a dusky-skinned woman. Her hair is short and kinky and sun-bleached orange-gold in front. Her cinnamon skin is smooth and soft, but is traced with a mosaic of pink and white scars, large and small. A raised white keloid on her left shoulder seems to form the shape of a crude man's head with horns or a lightning bolt, but the details have been obscured with a series of horizontal slash-scars. As you watch her face, she opens eyes the color of summer sunlight in the depths of a green forest.
The bed is a strange rounded air mattress tucked as the floor of a low, rounded shelter made of some kind of plastic and patched many, many times with a variety of materials. A round patch opposite the occupants of the bed is, apparently, the door. A little pile of other gear is tucked off to the side.'.

Scott blinks faintly, trying to rid the sleep from his eyes. He glances to the woman he's curled around, and seeks some recognition at her features. He offers a small, tentative and boyish smile.

Blood-of-Ages's hands slip over Scott's chest as she stretches and uncurls. Her eyes meet his, and she matches the tentative and slightly confused smile of greeeting while blinking the sleep from her eyes. "Morning," she whispers.

You paged Velia with 'You awaken, a little too warm and a little too dry, and are startled not to see where you fell asleep, but open landscape. The land around you is heating rapidly in the blaring dawn that fails to pinken the sky before it occurs. The landscape outside is blasted with light. The sun, just risen, glowers hatefully over the dusty landscape, making the plants wither with thirst and the animals slink for shelter in any faint shadow they can find.'.

From afar, Velia blinks a bit, assimilating her new surroundings. She stands and shades her eyes, looking around at the horizon. She loks for shelter or, failing that, land where the sun still is hidden by land formations.

You paged Logan with 'You open your eyes upon the dim interior of a small yurt: a circular shelter about six feet in diameter. Your nose tells you that you share this place with another wolf. Yes, you're in lupus.
Your tentmate is a lean, shaggy-pelted canine with ears that are far too large and legs that are far too long. Her hide is a mottled beige that darkens around her nose and down each lanky limb. Her tail is a little too short, The black, shiny nose twitches at your scent, and her ears swivel, but she seems to be *quite* asleep..
There is a small heap of gear between you, covered with a dusty, battered tarp.'.

Blood-of-Ages pages: Those are, at least, Scott-like features. I do recognize him?
You paged Blood-of-Ages with 'He's... vaguely reminiscent of Scott, yes. Not entirely recognizable. About twenty years too old. Broader and thicker of body. More scars. For yourself, you notice that your body is strange, and feels definitively like it's more comfortable in lupus.'.

Scott pages: Or recognition?
You paged Scott with 'Not a bit. You notice that your body is too big for you, really, and there are aches and pains and catches where there oughtn't to be. And the woman... there's something oddly familiar about her, but definitely not the features, per se.'.

Scott smiles faintly, the tentativeness still lingering,"Morning." After his reply, he glances down over his own body before looking about the room and meeting the eyes of the woman before him.
Scott pages: What, if any perceptable changes do I see in me? :)
You paged Scott with 'You are more muscular, more physically powerful, that much is quickly obvious. You are also older. Probably twenty years older. More injuries, more battlescars. Here's a quick homid desc I worked up: This is a large, densely muscular man. His sun-beaten skin is laced with white scars, large and small, and his short, tawny hair is bleached white-gold on top, while snow grizzles the short, rough beard on his chin. He is still a handsome man with a nose that was once broken badly and set worse, but the traces of the wrinkles suggests that he has seen little happiness in his life. Crystalline cobalt-blue eyes observe the world with a keen cynicism.'.

You paged Velia with 'To stand, you have to set aside the ancient, dusty accordion that you were evidently embracing in your sleep, and you need to rearrange the rags that wrap your body more accomodatingly. Hm. There's something not right about this body. Most definitely not right. It could be that it's.... male?
Over your right shoulder, you see, not very far away, a small, plastic, hemispherical shelter, and another, larger one made of canvas. You may have been... sitting guard?'.

From afar, Velia looks down at...things that should not be there. She..He blinks again, and bends to take up the accordian. Again, he looks around for others, wondering all the while.

Blood-of-Ages's senses return slowly as sleep is shaken off. She pulls herself up to a sitting position on the makeshift bed air mattress, and takes a better look around, including the man she's with. Puzzlement filters into her features, and deepens visably as her attention turns to herself. Her only vocalization of the confusion comes in the question, "Where am I?"

Scott takes a deep breath, and disentangles from her as well. He shakes his head, and looks back up to her. "I don't know. This ... place is not familar to me either. Nor is this form." A pause, before he asks,"Who are you?"

You paged Velia with 'There are no others in sight, but you do hear the faint sound of what might be voices coming from the direction of the shelters. You are dressed in rags and battered boots and your long fingers poke out of the ratted ends of gloves. Your teeth feel gummy, but also broken and dulled. Fragile, almost.'.

From afar, Velia runs a finger across the teeth, frowning slightly. With an effort, the few meager possessions are gathered and..he starts out in the direction of the voices.

Blood-of-Ages's gaze breaks away from Scott, turning back again to her own body, a nervousness coming to the woman's manners. "Nor mine," she says, and then answers, looking back up toward him, "Merin."

Scott blinks, and then a bright, bright crimson flush rises across his cheeks. He glances down, the gesture boyish again and takes a deep breath and looks up at her. "Merin ... Merin it's me. Scott."

From afar, Words-of-Truth's eyes open slowly, responding to the new stimulation to his nose. He starts at first, taking in a startled rush of air, realizing he's not in the farmhouse attic, in his warm, familiar sleeping bag, but in a tent. He's not in the form he wore to bed, either, but in that of a wolf. Managing, for the moment, to remain at least half collected, his eyes quickly come to rest on the prone form of the sleeping canine.

You paged Words-of-Truth with 'The other wolf sleeps soundly, faint, gentle snores coming from hernose. (GM Note: this is the character waiting on Seirian, when she logs in. So she'll be difficult to wake until Seiri arrives. :) )'.

You paged Velia with 'The ground crunches harshly under foot. The land is frightfully silent, except for the wind and the vague murmur of those voices, and the sensation that you can almost hear the beams of sunlight sizzling across whatever they touch.'.

From afar, Velia adjusts the rags across his body and sets out at a slow but ground-eating pace for the voices. Already, he seeks shelter from the killing sun.

Blood-of-Ages pulls away from the man, almost like a gunshot, as the realization, recognition, and full waking reality is brought home to her. "Scott?" she asks, still not willing to believe, and certainyl not yet fully understanding the situation. "What are you...where the hell are we?"

Scott shakes his head quickly as his eyes scan about the room again. The color starts to fade as a serious, cool expression replaces it. "I don't know, Merin. I don't know at all. This ... isn't any place I know of. This certainly isn't ... my form." He looks back to her uncertainly.

You paged Words-of-Truth with 'You are smaller, squatter, broader. Your pelt is black, except for your left front paw, which is blindingly white. (GM Note:Your paw tends to be contrary and do things on its own. Don't be surprised when I pose your left paw for you. And feel free to pose your paw wandering around aimlessly on its own.)'.

You paged Seirian with 'You open your eyes upon the dim interior of a small yurt: a circular shelter about six feet in diameter. Your nose tells you that you share this place with another wolf. Yes, you're in lupus.
Your tentmate is a small, squat wolf, broad and powerful, yet possessing a strangely beautiful and elegant head that is somewhat reminiscent of the jackal heads of the Striders. Deep blue eyes peer out of that black-furred head, and close examination reveals an infinite age as well as infinite youth welling just below the surface. The left front paw is bright white beneath a coating of travel dust.'.

You paged Blood-of-Ages and Scott with 'The two of you might notice at this point that there is an... embarrassing and noticeable scent to the air in the shelter. You can ask me to be more specific, but I leave it to your imaginations. ;)'.

Scott pages to Blood-of-Ages and Limbo: No. No. I think I can guess what that is. :)

From afar, to Limbo and Words-of-Truth, Luna-Singer wakes slowly, lifting her lupine head to catch the scents around her. She bristles briefly in surprise, then calms, looking around the tent.

You paged Mark with 'You awaken, a little too warm and a little too dry, and are startled not to see where you fell asleep, but open landscape. The land around you is heating rapidly in the blaring dawn that fails to pinken the sky before it occurs. The landscape outside is blasted with light. The sun, just risen, glowers hatefully over the dusty landscape, making the plants wither with thirst and the animals slink for shelter in any faint shadow they can find.'.

You paged Velia with 'You spot, as you tramp toward the shelters, a tall, graceful woman, back braced against a tree-stump, just waking beyond the shelters. (GM Note: Page your poses to Mark and me at this point.)'.

Blood-of-Ages snorts softly, "You look more like you than I look like me," she says, tracing a finger over the strange scar on her shoulder that is as unfamiliar as the rest of her body. Her expression remains confused, a measure of panic as well as dull anger evident just below the surface. She begins searching for her clothes.

The only gear in the shelter consists of a set of man's clothing: a dusty brown tunic, rough brown pants, well-worn, thick leather boots; a slender bodkin sheathed with a leaf-bladed knife; a primitively sewn leather pack stuffed with food and some other little necessaries; and a plain, brass-hilted sword with a thick, ornately worked brass and leather scabbard.

Scott nods faintly, and glances around the room for his own cloths. He stops and considers for a moment, saying,"The Legendary Realm." A pause as he glances over the set of clothing, and says,"I'll ... take the pants, you take the tunic?"

From afar, to Mark and Limbo, Velia approaches slowly, hand up in a (hopefully) universal sign of peace.

You paged Mark with 'You see approaching you from between a pair of hemispherical shelters, a sharp-nosed, raw-boned man with flyaway gray hair. He is dressed in rags, and his long fingers poke out of the ratted ends of gloves tugged snugly over his hands. Under his arm is a dusty, ancient accordion. His hand is raised.'.

From afar, to Limbo and Luna-Singer, Words-of-Truth raises, slowly, up on four legs. Trying his best not to allow his fear to come to the fore, he looks toward the stranger, posture indicating he poses no threat, though not quite submissive. His head cocks to one side. Who are you? Where am I?

You paged Luna-Singer with 'She is a lean, shaggy-pelted canine with ears that are far too large and legs that are far too long. Her hide is a mottled red-beige that darkens around her nose and down each lanky limb. Her tail is a little too short, but her eyes are dark and quick and intelligent. The black, shiny nose twitches, almost rabbitlike, at your scent. ::>>> This is a quick lupus desc of your new body!'.

From afar, Luna-Singer blinks. Oooh.

Blood-of-Ages's frustration seems to grow with the strange gear found, but Scott's suggestion of where they might be seems to quell her anger for the moment. Eyes widening a little, she hesitates, and then nods, quickly taking up the tunic.

Scott slips on the breechs, and settles them about his waist,"It's the only explanation that makes even the vaguest amount of sense. Even so." Another glance around,"I'm not sure where we are within the legends. I don't recognize any of this." He moves over to pick up the sword and unsheath it.

The sword will not come from the sheath. There is a forbidding tingle to its hilt.

Scott blinks faintly, and removes his hand from the hilt. He pauses a moment, and then wryly offers the sword to Merin to see if she can unsheathe it.

Blood-of-Ages finishes tying off the tunic, an awkward glance given to the other galliard before she tries to take and unsheath the sword herself.

The sword refuses to budge, vibrating irritably.

From afar, to Velia and Limbo, Mark raises a hand back to the approaching man. "Hello."

You paged Mark with 'You are perhaps a little surprised to find that you have a lovely woman's alto voice, and a long, graceful woman's body.'.

From afar, Mark hmms. "Yes, surprised would be a good decription."

From afar, to Velia and Limbo, Mark then stops and looks at her hand for a few seconds.

From afar, to Mark and Limbo, Velia says "Greetings, stranger. What is this place. I seem to be lost."

From afar, to Limbo and Words-of-Truth, Luna-Singer sits up, looking at the other wolf in curiousity. This one is called Luna-Singer. Who are you? Her entire pose speaks of restrained inquisitiveness.

From afar, to Limbo and Luna-Singer, Words-of-Truth pulls back in on himself, slightly, at her brief introduction. A moment later, when he's done analyzing the scene and focuses on her words, he rushes forward a few steps, exclaiming, Luna-Singer! He then slows again, unsure. Luna-Singer? It's me. Words-of-Truth?

Scott doesn't seem quite as nervous, at least on the surface although those that know him would see some real and tangible signs of a touch of fear and forboding. "I guess it doesn't like either of us." He moves towards the door, and pokes his head through it to take a look at what's on the other side.

Blood-of-Ages sets the sword down with a frown, and a rather uncomfortable look. "Apparently not," she says without taking her eyes far from the sword. ether it's because the sword makes her nervous or because she wishes to avoid looking at Scott if she can help it is unclear.

You paged Velia and Mark with 'From the smaller shelter, a tousled white-blond man's head emerges from the small entryway. His compelling cobalt blue eyes peer around curiously.'.

Mark pages to Velia and Limbo: Well, I guess you found this place.

Mark pages: How am I dressed?

From afar, to Velia and Limbo, Mark seems distracted and looks down at herself as she answers.

You paged Mark with 'Loose, dun-colored clothing, pretty easy to maintain and nondescript tunic and trousers, with tough-soled traveling boots.'.

From afar, to Limbo and Words-of-Truth, Luna-Singer pulls back a moment in surprise as Words-of-Truth rushes forward, one paw half-raised. She lowers it as comprehension dawns. Words-of-Truth? It is you? Does not look like you.

You paged Scott with 'You see a sharp-nosed, raw-boned man with flyaway gray hair. He is dressed in rags, and his long fingers poke out of the ratted ends of gloves tugged snugly over his hands. Under his arm is a dusty, ancient accordion. He is talking to a tall, graceful woman whose movements are languid and dreamy. Her body is a slender, rounded shape, which covers the hard muscles beneath the tanned skin, and dark, determined eyes that peer outward with the sharpness of a hawk's vision.

The landscape outside is blasted with light. The sun, just risen, glares hatefully over the dusty landscape, making the plants wither with thirst and the animals slink for shelter in any faint shadow they can find.'.

You paged Words-of-Truth and Luna-Singer with 'You both hear voices outside.'.

Scott mutters after taking the landscape outside the hutch in,"We /definitely/ aren't in Kansas anymore."

Blood-of-Ages finally looks up, toward the door. "Do you recognize it?" she asks.

From afar, to Limbo and Luna-Singer, Words-of-Truth looks down upon his body, as if for the first time, noting the black fur in place of white, save for his left paw, which remains true to its usual coloring. My fur! You... also do not look like y-- The young wolf pauses, then, as the voices filter in from outside. He looks toward the entrance, then to the other, questioningly.

You paged Words-of-Truth and Luna-Singer with 'Words-of-Truth's white left paw scratches idly at the bedding.'.

From afar, to Limbo and Words-of-Truth, Luna-Singer also cranes her neck towards the entrance, eyes wide and bright. What's out there?

Scott shakes his head again. "No, I don't. Sun-baked land, nothing I've seen or recognize from the Legends. There are people outside though. We might be able to find more out if we talk with them." He pauses, hesitantly about to speak and then quiets.

Mark says "I haven't been here long myself. Where do you hail from?"

Blood-of-Ages takes another look around and then nods. "I think getting out of here would be a good ide.." she trails off, noticing Scott's expression. "What is it?"

Scott shakes his head, saying quickly,"Nothing. Let's go." With that he steps outside, also a touch quickly before she can query him again.

From afar, to Limbo and Luna-Singer, Words-of-Truth does not know, Luna-Singer. He begins to take the first tentative advancements toward the entrance but pauses mid-step, looking incredulously at his left paw.

You paged Words-of-Truth and Luna-Singer with 'The words come clearly through the canvas from the outside.'.

From afar, to Limbo and Words-of-Truth, Luna-Singer cocks her ears towards the voices, then looks to Words and his paw. What is wrong?

From afar, to Limbo and Luna-Singer, Words-of-Truth doesn't look up at her, his eyes remaining focused on his forelimb. It... moved. As if responding to his words, the black wolf's paw again moves, this time inching toward the entrance of the canvas shelter.

Blood-of-Ages follows Scott outside the shelter, with only a slight frown as an answer.

Velia folds his arms and listens.

Limbo pages all: Limbo takes the time to put up the quick homid descs I've prepared for the four of you.

Mark pages to Blood-of-Ages, Velia, Scott, Limbo, Words-of-Truth, and Luna-Singer: That'd be good.

Scott: This is a large, densely muscular man. His sun-beaten skin is laced with white scars, large and small, and his short, tawny hair is bleached white-gold on top, while snow grizzles the short, rough beard on his chin. He is still a handsome man with a nose that was once broken badly and set worse, but the traces of the wrinkles suggests that he has seen little happiness in his life. Crystalline cobalt-blue eyes observe the world with a keen cynicism.

Merin/Blood-of-Ages: She is a dusky-skinned woman, her hair is short, kinky, and sun-bleached orange-gold in front. Her cinnamon skin is smooth, but is traced with a mosaic of pink and white scars, large and small. A raised white keloid on her left shoulder seems to form the shape of a crude man's head with horns or a lightning bolt, but the details have been obscured with a series of horizontal slash-scars.

Mark: This tall, graceful woman seems to always be at rest, even while in motion. Her movements are languid and dreamy, and her body, a slender, rounded shape, seems to only enhance that illusion. In fact, close observation reveals hard muscles beneath the tanned skin, and dark, determined eyes that peer outward with the sharpness of a hawk's vision.

Velia: Dressed in rags and battered boots, this raw-boned greybeard is never seen without his cracked and aged accordion case. Long fingers poke out of the ratted ends of gloves, protected as best he can manage from the sun and other elements. Though his lips are dry and scabbed, though his teeth are stained and broken, this man with the Irish brogue can sing like an angel, and just his speaking voice is enough to entrance any auditor.

Scott takes a deep breath and gives a nod to the others gathered outside. "Hello."

Velia smiles. "Indeed. How are we come to this place, then?"

Mark says "Hello. This is your camp?"

Scott says "Um. Not exactly."

From afar, to Limbo and Words-of-Truth, Luna-Singer eyes the rogue paw for a moment, then precedes Words to the entrance, nosing the flap open to look out.

The larger, hemispherical shelter (the canvas yurt) parts in one spot to reveal a wolfy nose.

Mark quirks a brow. "Then what are you doing inside someone elses tent?"

Scott blushes profusely, saying,"I awoke there, but it isn't where I fell asleep."

Velia blinks. "My tale as well. What name did you go to bed with?"

Mark smiles. "Stolen by the faeries were yeh?"

From afar, to Limbo and Luna-Singer, Words-of-Truth comes up beside his packmate, eyes still upon his paw, testing it as he walks, then pokes his face beside her own, peering at as well.

Another nose appears, accompanied by a lupus face.

Limbo pages all: Limbo throws up lupus descs.
Velia pages all: Velia marvels at Limbo. :)

Seirian: She is a lean, shaggy-pelted canine with ears that are far too large and legs that are far too long. Her hide is a mottled red-beige that darkens around her nose and down each lanky limb. Her tail is a little too short, but her eyes are dark and quick and intelligent. The black, shiny nose twitches, almost rabbitlike, at your scent.

Logan: He is a small, squat wolf, broad and powerful, yet possessing a strangely beautiful and elegant head that is reminiscent of the jackal heads of the Striders. Deep blue eyes peer out of that black-furred head, and close examination reveals an infinite age as well as infinite youth welling just below the surface. His left front paw is bright white beneath a coating of travel dust.

Scott glances back to Blood-Of-Ages before swallowing and saying,"Scott Spirit-of-Words."

Velia blinks and chuckles. "Velia Varro Iceheart. Once again we walk in your dreams, alpha."

Mark sighs. "Always dragging us about in your wake, are yeh? Well, where did you take us tonight?"

Mark turns in a circle to look at the land around the camp.

Scott takes a deep breath, the blush lingering on his features,"Why ... what makes you think this is a dream? I thought ... we somehow ended up in the Legendary Realm."

Blood-of-Ages's gaze moves over the others appraisingly, settling on the wolves with a strange kind of fixation. "Merin, Hawkmoon," she answers, looking again between the others, and then to Scott, "Walking in Dreams? Your pack?" After a pause, she adds, "I'm flattered, but why drag me into them?"

Luna-Singer pushes her head all the way out of the tent, looking in curiousity at the four people outside.

Scott glances back to Merin and says,"We've ... there has been a matter in the dream, part of it the Wyrm seeks to corrupt that my pack has been trying to help save. But ... that doesn't explain this. This isn't the same place, I don't think."

Mark looks curious. "The legendary realm? I've never been there before."

Velia shakes his head. "No, unless it is a place blasted and scoured by it's influences. Yet, there is life here."

Words-of-Truth looks toward the four, then back at Luna-Singer. He indicates them with his nose, a signal to follow, then pads out of the tent. As he slowly approaching the others, he chuffs softly. My pack? It's me. Words-of-Truth.

Scott says "Well, everyone is here. The question is why."

Luna-Singer trails after Words-of-Truth, looking around at the world outside the tent. She whuffs at her packmates in greeting. Luna-Singer here.

You paged Words-of-Truth with 'A fluttering piece of parchment catches your eye, tucked under the edge of the yurt you just left.'.

Velia smiles at Luna-Singer, and Words-of-Truth, then turns back to Scott. "Has anyone seen anything familiar here, yet?"

Blood-of-Ages pages: There isn't anything else around here, is there? Merin wouldn't, I mean, consider it a breech to shift here?
You paged Blood-of-Ages with 'No. You don't see anything except, possibly, in the far distance toward the just-risen sun, a shadow of what might be a habitation.'.

Scott shakes his head,"Other than each other, no."

Mark shakes her head. "Anything in the tents?"

You paged Words-of-Truth with 'The parchment was just inside the exit.'.

Words-of-Truth turns to take another look about at Scott's que. He snorts softly as something catches his eye. Breaking away from the group for a moment, he wanders back to the yurt he and Luna-Singer just left, and bends his head to examine a piece of parchment tucked under the edge, right at the entrace.

Blood-of-Ages, almost as if Scott's mentioning it has reminded her, blushes faintly, and then says, "If no one minds, I'm going to take the wolf. Scott, you can take the tunic. We look ridiculous walking around like this."

You paged Words-of-Truth with 'This appears to be a closely handwritten piece of paper that, at a glance, appears to be a possible explanation of your situation. I'd rather pose the whole thing to the group, as it's a bit long, but if you want, I can page it to you and you can relate it as you wish.'.
From afar, Words-of-Truth will let you pose it to the group, sure. :)

Luna-Singer gives herself a shake and looks up at her packmates a moment before turning her head to look after Words attentively.

Scott blushs and nods in response to Merin, though he doesn't quite look at her.

Blood-of-Ages removes the rough tunic before shifting down. Once there, she seems somehow more relaxed although no more pleased than before.

Scott picks up the tunic and tosses it over his head.

l blood
She is a shadow, blurred around the edges even in bright sunlight. Whenever and wherever the light strikes her, she is lit with iridescent, flickering scarlet that spreads over her pelt in flashes.

Words-of-Truth takes ahold of the parchment carefully between his teeth and brings it over to the group, setting it down before the loose circle and placing a paw over it to keep it in place.

Mark says "You guys trying to guve us something to debate about at the next philo moot in there?"

Scott very obviously does not answer Mark, although he does blush again, more brightly before moving over to take the parchment and pick it up and open it.

Velia looks down at the parchment and glances to Scott.

Luna-Singer sits down, tilting her head in curiousity as she looks at the parchment.


The parchment, written in a close hand, reads as follows:

To my Renowned and Noble Ancestor: I fear that you and others may be Discomfited by your unforeseen arrival in our Era. We are a poor folk, and we make do as best we can. Near the next Town -- a little place called Kent's Cross -- is a convention from what I desperately hope is your Time -- our Rite of Ancestral Speaking was modified per my visions, and I can only pray to the Goddess that it worked Correctly -- and we do not know how to make it work. My vision has said that if we can make it work, it can make life better for these lands, and the people here depend upon our Protection and Guidance, since they have mostly forgotten their Ancestral Ways. Please, we -- my pack and I, Luna's Vanguard -- beg of you, find the way to make it work.

Since the days of the Great Darkness, the Vanguard has protected these lands. In these days of Helios' vengeance, we continue. I am, Beloved Ancestor, Kevin Drinks-Deep-of-the-Soul, metis Theurge, Adren of the Spiral Dancers -- my blood runs thick with the blood of the ancient Silver Fangs and Fianna and Silent Striders, who were tribes of great renown before the Great Darkness took most of them and forced members of the tribes to combine. The Noble Bodies that the Respected Others inhabit, you may tell them, belong to Anthony van Traelin, Silver-Lord-of-the-Plains, Scourer-of-Metal-Death, Life's-Guardian, Wyvern's Child, a full moon Adren of Gaia's Sentinels -- his blood is of ancient Silver Fangs; Blood-of-Ages, Fire-of-Night, half moon Adren of Gaia's Sentinels -- a rare wolf-born, she holds both Fang and Fianna ancestry those two are Great Lovers, our own Sacred Marriage within the pack. Their Child is elsewhere, being Cared for by friendly Kin. I mention this as I understand from some Stories that perhaps we Mules are looked Down Upon in your time. Or perhaps that was Earlier. Forgive my Ignorance.); Ciaran Harp's-Song-Slays-the-Dead, gibbous moon Adren of the Spiral Dancers -- child of the ancient Uktena and Fianna; Niobe Shadow-Dances-Destruction, half moon Adren of the Spiral Dancers -- child, as she points out, of the noble lines of the Black Furies and the Silver Fangs; and Xavier the Man, Singer-of-News, gibbous moon Adren of the Spiral Dancers -- an unlikely combination of the Silver Fangs and Bone Gnawers, from everything I've been told.

I look forward to my return in a world made Better by your having been in it, however Briefly. With Warmest Regards, Kevin

PS--Sorry about the paw. It's got a Mind of It's Own, and I can't do a Thing With It.


Scott blinks, several times and then licks suddenly dry lips. "Gaia..."

Words-of-Truth's white paw scratches weird patterns in the dust.

Blood-of-Ages definitely seems unpleased by the news in the parchment, the hackles on the strange looking wolf rising warily.

Mark moves over to see the note. "What does it say?"

Velia growls. ~Oh Sweet Mother of us all.~

Words-of-Truth unconsciously looks down upon his left paw, which, in contrast to the rest of him, is purely white, and at the moment, scratching idly at the ground of its own will. Me... ancestor? Ours?

Luna-Singer just stares at the note a moment and blinks.

Scott hands the note to Mark and takes several steps away from the group before falling into a crouch and squeezing his eyes shut.

Mark reads the note and then looks around him. "Interesting. Shut up Miriam."

Velia coughs. "I would remind you that the um...tribal name mentioned here need not be what we think it is.."

Scott murmurs in a broken whisper,"Does it matter? If this ... if this is what is to come." He trails off and shakes his head.

Velia nods. "Indeed." She looks up. "Helio's vengence indeed..."

From afar, Luna-Singer politely asks for clarification on which one she is?
You paged Luna-Singer with 'Ciaran Harp's-Song-Slays-the-Dead'.
From afar, Luna-Singer thought so. :)

Scott pages: You done broke him! ;)
Long distance to Scott: Limbo BEAMS!!!

Blood-of-Ages denies it, as much as she can and still /be/ here. She denies it, growling a little at Scott.

Scott looks back to Blood-of-Ages, his eyes sparking with anger as he demands,"What?"

Luna-Singer scratches at her ear a moment, then shakes her ruff vehemently.

Mark says "Things have changed much over the years. Don't make your judgements too fast."

Words-of-Truth takes a few steps toward his alpha, pausing when he's nearly upon him, still looking about. This... is the future?

Velia says "Indeed. THere is something, then, we have been brought to do. Something from our time, it sounds like."

Blood-of-Ages will make a judgement. Lies.

Blood-of-Ages looks to Velia, and there's in her eyes a reluctant admittance to the wisdom in what she says, despite how much the lupus wishes to deny it.

Scott snaps at Words-of-Truth,"That is what the writing claims. I ... she is right. This /cannot/ be so. This cannot be the future."

Luna-Singer gets to her feet and looks around again. If this is the future...then a strange one it is.

Words-of-Truth backs away slightly from his alpha, then turns away, looking back the other direction, perhaps searching for more clues.

Velia coughs a bit. "Perhaps /a/ future, Scott. Read more." He looks around a bit, then back to the parchment. "It cannot hurt to try and find this place."

Scott rises to his feet. "Kent Crossing. Whatever ... whatever the hell it is we are supposed to do..." He shakes his head and turns away again, his arms crossing over his chest tightly. "Whatever it is, it's in Kent Crossing," he says more quietly.

Blood-of-Ages growls out, ~If it is 'a' future, then I assume the job the Mother has decided to send us on so abruptly is to /end/ it. Stop it. So, let's get on with it.~

Velia nods at this. "Is there water, or a map in the yurt?"

Mark says "I suspect it is at the Hidden Walk. THe note says near the next town, doesn't it?"

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