Bravery in War

Rends-the-Gar bid Red Hand a good evening and took his leave, wandering back down the road. The Fenrir was intent on speaking with the leader of the Fianna, who he had not spoken with since the Prodigal's first night at the White Ash.

The Warder and his fellow Fianna Ahroun were standing outside the cabin, forming a rough ring. Enid Bad-Moon had one hand to the ground, and she was making passes over it with a long rusty knife, the movement of the dull metal difficult to follow as she played a recklessly fast game of stabscotch. Drann Lock-Step, Sara Strident-Hate, and Oren McCormick were alternately shouting jeers and encouragement; it appeared there was a fair amount of money riding on the outcome of Enid's performance. A sleek wolf with a dark pelt, Padraig's beta, Scaith, rested on her haunches nearby, her curious amusement evident in the lay of her ears and the movements of her tail.  

Padraig 'Brave-in-War' Sucat had slightly removed himself from the others, leaning against the side of the cabin. The Warder loosely held a jug of moonshine, and even at a dozen paces it made Rends' nostrils burn. The older Ahroun nodded as he saw Rends-the-Gar approach, and Scaith twisted her head around to look at the Get. Brave-in-War said something to her before nodding to Rends, directing him around the corner of the house and down toward the edge of the sluggish bayou out back.  

Behind them Enid yelled triumphantly and Drann growled chuckle, prompting a lull in noise as he crouched down and prepared to risk his fingers to defend the pride of his pack from the rival Ahroun.  

"Been wonderin' if we'd get to have a jaw afore you left. Care for a drink, boy?" Brave-in-War was a barrel of a Garou, and he smelled like the contents of a rarely-cleaned still.

"Don't mind if I do."

Rends takes the jug and downs a gulp or two, the fire of it doing much to burn away. He belches in satisfaction, handing the jug back and wiping his mouth with a sleeve.

"I'll give ya this: y'all know how to run a still."

Rends turned a critical eye to the game.

"Seems like y'all got a pretty nice little set up here. Lots of drink, games to play, the occasional Bane is nice enough to walk by and get murdered."

He doesn't say it out right, but the disdain is there in his voice as another cheer goes up from the gathered Full Moons at the game.

The Fianna watched Rends with hooded eyes, taking back the homemade whiskey. "Aye. Only the occasional troublemaker comes through, but when that happens we know how to deal with 'em, sure as sure." He lifted the jug and drank deep, smacking his lips afterward.

"If you wanted to say somethin, now is the time. Spit it out."

Rends opens his mouth, then snaps it shut. He takes another pull off the bottle as he considers his words.

"Y'all ever hear about the Battle of Nacidoches down here? With Cordova's rebellion?"

The Fianna shrugged their shoulders.

"We heard a word or two. Some uppity wetbacks got ahead of themselves and Red Oath put them down."

Rends chuffed at the all too brief summary.

"That ain't the half of it. Strange lookin' back on it now, but that story is pretty well where my pack started."

He passes the jug back, hitching his thumbs into his suspenders as he remembers their first real trial as a pack.

"See, it weren't as simple as all that. Red, the Iron Riders and Children of Gaia had done a good job of keeping the Camino Real Sept clean and pure. Weren't no Wyrm shit fer miles around in spite of it bein' smack in the middle of a small human city."

He turns to Brave in War as he continues.

"By the time my pack rolled into town, they didn't seem like they was nothin' to fight in the area. Sure we'd heard rumors of some unsavory types out in the wilderness givin' Hell to the local Rangers and militia, but that weren't our problem. We kept our Sept clean, and the local human flock to boot, all while making sure nothing bad passed through our lands. Then things started happenin' round town. Folk started disappearing. Cattle got butchered and left to rot. They figured it was jest some little Banes or a fresh Leech makin trouble, so they let the newest pack in town look into it, as a sort of trial before they really welcomed us in as one of their own."

Rends gives him a frank look, as if to say starting to sound familiar?

"So we did. And thanks to us, we were able to stop one of the Wyrm's favored sons from taking everything. Cordova had been building up an army of Banes right under our noses fer months. He himself was some sort of Wyrm... thing. I still don't know what. They was thousands of Banes pouring into town that night to take our Caern. Not only that, but a crazy Mage decided he wanted to get his hands on our Caern and armed up his private army with silver to take it by surprise."

Swelling with pride, a light burned behind the Fenrir's dark eyes.

"And through it all, the Prodigals were always there on the front lines, uncovering the Enemy's plans and biting at his ankles until we could deal a killing blow. When it came down to it we had to split our defense. Red took most of the Sept into the Dark Umbra to fight Cordova in his true form, leaving only my pack and All-Friend to defend it in the physical world. When the armies came, we didn't sit back and let them move first. I took Mocks-the-Night with me and together we destroyed one of Cordova's strongest Banes, along with some newfangled repeating cannon. Chased by a horde, we rushed home to rally the defense through a dozen men packing silver. We fought. We killed, and we killed well. All-Friend fell in a hail of glory, but inspired us to kill the Mage, then hold the lines. Then Cordova came, and Rends-the-Gar met him with claws and fangs. I tore into him, and he tore into me."

Rends pulls the collar of his shirt down to show a thin silvery scar along his collar bone.

"When he could not break me, he fled as cowards do. And I chased him to his filthy nest. Then, with nowhere to flee, he done his best to kill me, but it was too late fer him. That's when Chief Bowl lead Red and the others there, and the packs of the Camino Real destroyed the thing that was Cordova."

Rends' eyes are alight with fire and pride.

"I ain't tellin' you this to brag or to add to any campfire stories. I'm tellin' you this cuz I seen what happens when 'it ain't our problem' becomes a problem. You can't have an enemy staring down on you and NOT have it be a problem. I'm tellin' you right now, if you don't do somethin' about Houston and damn soon it will be more of a problem than you can handle. You say you're weak. You say you don't have the numbers to do anything about it. We are here. We are ready to help. We're going to Houston with or without your help. Help us help you, for Gaia's sakes!"

He only realized after he'd finished that he was nearly shouting; the nearby game having gone eerily silent. Ignoring them, Rends kept his eyes on the Warder, gauging his reaction.

The Warder listened, but rolled his eyes when Rends challenged him to action. "Nightclaw has told me and my slew to hold, to defend those here. We Fianna ain't weak- we're disciplined. If you say otherwise I'd be happy to prove you wrong." He tossed the rotgut aside and folded his thick tattooed arms. Scaith loped around the cabin, her ears pricked up and alert as she stood behind her alpha, her tail lowered ever so slightly. We have scars too.

Brave-in-War still had his gaze locked on Rends. "Too many Garou under our charge here are weak in arm or head, but I'll protect 'em still. That is 'cause me and mine are disciplined." The stout creature paused, before giving vent to a shuddering belch. "The Shadow Lord, he's got a plan. It isn't to lay siege to Houston, or raid it as the redskins would, all pillaging and the like. Nightclaw Breen wants to cut the vile heart out while its still beating, and I stand by his plan. This undertaking you got yourself volunteered for, it's been a long time coming." The Fianna leaned in, and Rends could see and smell his rotten teeth.

"You don't need my help, lad. You so intent to go down there, spill your blood? Go on ahead and do your duty. I'd only slow you down."

Rends shakes his head in frustration.

"The Necromantis ain't what worries me. It's only a part of what's going on. We know they's at least one Black Spiral in Houston. And he's workin' with a mighty craft Mage. Thrown in the Vampires that's in any big city, and the Weeping Moon society, and you got a powder keg ready to blow."

Rends gives him a long, hard look.

"Let me be perfectly clear. My pack ain't here to clean up Houston. We'll do what we can, but we got our own business in town that needs lookin' after. I'm givin' you the opportunity to work with us to get somethin' done while we're here and do some real long term harm to your enemies; not the chance to let us do your work for you. Look, if you're content to sit back and babysit while a bunch of out of towners go do the dirty work, we'll be glad to take all the glory for what will get done in the next few days. I've heard stories about how the Fianna can give my Tribesmen a run fer our money in a scrap, but if that ain't the case maybe it's wise to leave the fightin' to us. We'll take care of our business, and spit in the Wyrm's eye while we're in town, but we won't deviate from our own job to do yours. Then we'll leave in a few days, and Houston will have bled from Garou claws. It may be hurt, but it'll recover.."

Rends hitches his thumbs into his suspenders, looking grave.

"Then while you're sittin' back here defendin' your holdings Houston will grow worse and worse again. Soon enough it'll be worse than it is now. And when it's gotten bad enough, I guarantee them baddies is gonna start castin' an eye at this place and it won't be jest a handful of scouts comin' at you four at a time then. We can get another pack or two to maybe move down here, but so what? If you got no more ambition than to sit back and pick at the scraps the enemy throws at you, I won't waste my friends to give up all glory so they can retire and get fat. This place is too damn big to hold against a determined assault from a large force. When they come at you in earnest, this Caern will fall. And I won't ask my friends to fight for a lost cause."

Rends spits to the side.

"But hey, I guess you was right when we first met. Leaders do tend to die around us. But every time, every damn time you mentioned, it's been because they didn't listen to us when we gave them warning, or they moved too slow when they did listen. I ain't doin' your job fer you, Brave in War. My pack ain't a part of this Sept. Houston is your problem. I ain't sayin' to rush in and start the slaughter, and I ain't sayin' you should tuck tail and run. Hell, take a page out of Mal's book and cut a few throats if that's all you can manage! But do something! Make 'em important throats while you can! You have this one chance to make somethin' happen while we're in the area, or hand over the fate of this Caern and the Republic to the servants of the Wyrm while they bide their time. The choice is yours."

Brave-in-War leaned back, letting Rends speak. When he finished delivering his call to action, the Warder walked past him, toward where the clay soil started sloping sharply downward toward the Bayou's algae-choked edge.

"Your assessment of Houston being a powderkeg is apt enough. That said, a bunch of my Ahrouns barreling into town looking to lay waste might as well be a torch hurled onto said powderkeg. It will blow alrigh' but Nightclaw seems to think this Necromantis is the key to diffusing our ticking time bomb." The Fianna spoke facing away from Rends, looking toward the cluster of woods that crowded around the bayou. "My slew will hold, and that isn't due to any shortcomings in their prowess or zeal..." The older man's profile had taken on a bestial cast in the moonlight, his jowled mouth edged with greenish fangs. He turned away once more, his head tilted up toward where Luna's slim visage danced above them.

"Our enemies are insane, and crazy and malignant, but this is bigger than just a posse of witches or vampires. Nightclaw says there are towns east of here, towards the coast, that are just like Zavala... maybe worse." Brave-in-War turned and saw the recognition and hint of pride in Rend's grim nod.

"Aye, we heard tell of what you did. Took on a whole damn town of Wyrmshits, from what I heard, Lord love ya- but you came out ahead. That takes nerve, and me and my slew respect you all the more for it. I just don't think that is the best way to go about this business here, and I am still not convinced that you are the right ones for this job." The Warder scratched himself roughly.

"There are other threats lurking in Houston, aye, but the Necromantis seems to be behind a fair heap of it. Any way you cut this, destroying a shard of a Bane Incarna is gonna look mighty fine for you, and certainly won't do us any harm."

During this discussion, Scaith, the beta wolf, had said nothing, merely watching, her nose occasionally twitching at the wind-borne night smells. Her posture and the easy movement of her ears said was clearly in agreement with the Warder.