Who is Scared of a Little Rain?

Kefka left his pack early in the morning. He was pleased with the gains that were made while he was losing his mind, but feared the cost. He shook his head slowly as he shifted to Lupus and headed into the forest. It was odd how empty he felt without his ancestors in his mind. They never distracted him, only interfered when requested or during a frenzy. Their continual presence in his mind just made him feel safe. Without them he felt anxious, exposed, incomplete... He sighed as he trudged along, gingerly making his way through the forest. His fur on edge, waiting for something, anything to make a move. Nothing did. Eventually he came upon Hard Rain guarding the caern totem who kept the once awake Silverfang King alive. Kefka stopped his approach once Hard Rain paid him attention and bowed his head low to the ground. After a few seconds Kefka stood up and shifted into homid. He took his hat off and ran a hand through his hair before replacing his hat and speaking.

"Good morning Hard Rain. I heard about the actions of my pack and wanted to apologize to ya. As Coyote's children we tend to forgo etiquette and protocol in favor of blunt truths. We're also mighty stubborn. Our intentions are good though I assure you. All we want to do is serve Gaia, and our quest to serve her has brought us to the wyrm-infested pit stain of Texas known as Houston."

Kefka stops talking and takes a swig from his flask. He offers some to Hard Rain before sitting down cross legged on the ground.

"Houston is full of all kind of wyrm shit." He spits. "I ain't worried about that right now, though. I'm focused on a creature outside of Houston... The Necromantis. If you know anything about it you feel like sharing... I'd be willing to listen. I know information comes at a cost though, so name your price before spillin' the beans as it were. If'n ya don't mind" Kefka grins and winks at the Lupus Theurge.

The shaggy black wolf stared at Mocks-the-Night. His legs were apart, his great head down, ears flat across his skull. "You are not blunt, not truthful, You are clumsy, all. Idiot pups. Not big bad wolves."

The Shadow Lord's form blurred into that of a savage looking man. Scarred glyphs etched the corners of his face, worming out from beneath his beard to crawl down his neck. His hands were stiff at his sides, the muscles taut and ready like untested springs.

"Seeing you humbled would cheer me... but I want to see our enemies brought low more than I wish to scent your tears." The theurge scowled, popping his jaw as his regarded Kefka's offered canteen. His arms remained at his sides. "Nightclaw wants the All-Seeing Echo destroyed. It is a blight in the lands of Thunder's children for far too long. Bat feeds on death and decay, and I am sure that its presence in the city is hastening its corruption."

Kefka raised an eyebrow as his mouth twitched.

"What was untruthful that my pack said? As I was not there, enlighten me."

Kefka eyed Hard Rain as we made his veiled threat. He flashed a cocky grin ready to grab his apache if need be.

"Of course you want to see me humbled. You're a Shadow Lord. I'm a Shadow Lord. Anything that hurts one of us benefits the other. I assure you though...the feeling is mutual"

Kefka winks.

"I agree that the All-Seeing Echo as you call it is hastening the corruption of the city. Hence it needs to be dealt with. But how? Surely if we destroy it with tooth and claw it will reform over time and fall deeper into the thrall of the wyrm. What we do must be a permanent solution. Have you methods to destroy a spirit entirely?"

Hard Rain ran a tongue across his teeth. "Not liars- your packmates lack the wit necessary for masterful deception. Blind optimism is compounded by astounding arrogance. I do not know how these other tribes rule their territory, but they seem to not have throated you or your pack enough." The feral Shadow Lord smiled back at Kefka, his homid teeth still sharp, clearly reminiscent of fangs.

"Remember your place, adren, and I will help you."

The theurge stroked his beard absentmindedly, his fingers eventually wandering lower towards his scarred throat. "Bat's mind is gone. That was its first offering to the Wyrm. Your prey knows nothing, nothing apart from degradation and loss. It will not reassert itself swiftly if you use your claws and fangs..."

"...yet you could do more. Feast upon its tainted flesh until there is nothing left. The Necromantis is corruption incarnate, a lesser god of death. It is not without risk. I wonder if this is what Nightclaw intended to do, before he was commanded to stay here. Perhaps such a sacrifice is your place, ragabash."

Kefka furrows his brow.

"I know my place Athro, it's to serve Gaia. All I do, I do for her."

He is quiet after Hard Rain mentions sacrifice.

"I will not pretend to know what Nightclaw had planned for the Necromantis. It's not my place to know what he intended to do. What I do know is that GrandFather Thunder himself chose me for this task because Nightclaw displeased him. If Nightclaw wants the Necromantis destroyed...perhaps I have been chosen because I can look at this with vision not clouded by vengeance. What if the Necromantis could be brought back to Gaia? If that is possible that is the action to take. By bringing the Necromantis back to Gaia we would hurt Houston while also learning secrets on how to undo the damage that has been done. The war our ancestors started is what drove Bat to the Wyrm. Should we finish what was started, or should we try to undo the damage we have done?"

Kefka shrugs at Hard Rain.

"I don't know the right answer. But I will do whatever it takes to rid Houston of the Wyrm. If I can't wake the Necromantis and bring her back to Gaia... Then I will feast on its flesh and make sure it never comes back. I will do what has to be done for Gaia."

A vein twitched in Hard Rain's cheek. "Where have you heard such tales? Make no mistake, our tribe destroying the Necromantis is a penance, yes, but not for the sin of driving Bat to the Wyrm. That Which Flies in the Darkness was always of the Wyrm, hiding its true nature from the rest of Gaia's trusting children. Our ancestors discerned the truth. We carry on in their footsteps."

"The only damage we have done has been to Gaia's enemies."

"What has instilled in you such a mistrust of your elders, your betters?" Hard Rain stepped closer, and sniffed at Mocks-the-Night, even though both wore homid form. "I do not wish to be your friend, New Moon, but you and Nightlcaw both hunger for the same thing, I can smell it."

Kefka frowns.

"I have heard tales of our tribe from only two; Drowns His Foes, and Illyana. Neither are Galliard so the story may have been told incorrectly...possibly on purpose."

He pauses.

"My mistrust of those in this caern also is due to Drowns His Foes. He warned me there were masks here. My mother died bringing an end to these Masks... mine own vengeance is what led me here. But as of late I fear I may have been tricked.

Kefka is quiet before chuckling.

"It's a good thing you don't want to be my friend Hard Rain...if everyone wanted to be my friend then I wouldn't be fulfilling my auspice."

"Whoever Drowns-His-Foes is, he has no authority in our territory," Hard Rain growled. "The Masks were failures. Each one seeking to cow others and become alpha. It only sows discord."

The older Garou's ears pricked up and he listed to a far-off deer cry before he continued his line of thought. "I have hunted spirits who ran with them. Never have I scented a living Mask. There are none here. Your hunt, a fools errand."

The theurge turned away back toward the deep woods and after only a few steps began shifting back into lupus. He grunted out a single phrase in the First Tongue:

"Strong lies always hold some truth."