The late-afternoon breeze lightly flittered past. A lone figure barely visible in the woods alongside the bubbling brook moved quickly, but silently. His path was difficult to follow. His hands were a blur-stooping down and grabbing some of the stream sides weeds and the occasional grapevine branch that had fallen to the forest floor in swift yet subtle movement.
The Silent Strider had not spoken to any save his pack upon returning to the caern, and even then all that was mentioned was that he would be alone for awhile.
He set to work after taking extensive labors to ensure he was well and truly alone and unlikely to be disturbed. What he was about to do was not meant for the eyes of the other tribes. The Apache took his gathered collection of woodland scrub and brush and bound it together. The end result was a crude but effective wood, weed, and stick effigy. He carefully and gingerly placed the odd skull atop the frame work and lashed it together. Lastly, he took his sash and wove it around the middle of the stacked bundle to give the appearance of a waist which blew softly as the mid afternoon breeze wafted through the trees.
The Silent Strider took some of the stream water and sprinkled the skull with a few drops and stacked wood at the base of the now lifelike shape. When he was satisfied there was enough, Zas gave a low head bow, uttering a prayer to Gaia and the spirits and knicked his hand on his blade spilling his blood atop the wood base as he leapt and danced about, hooting and yipping and clapping in native chant. Zas pranced in a circle long enough for the forest floor to be beaten down by the pounding of his feet and for the sun to be nearly set.
As he neared the point of collapse from his recent forays into the vampire lairs and his physical exertion, he felt a second wind kick in. At this point he removed the sash from the waist and lit a small fire beneath the wood frame. The bright red-orange flames licked away at the spilled crimson stains before slowly beginning to crawl their way up the rough-hewn scarecrow.
At this point Zas shifted into Lupus and let out a long medley of howls that seemed to blend and shift between a funeral dirge, a war cry, and a posthumous howl of introduction detailing once more who exactly had left the gaian world, yet also serving as warning specifically to the spirits of the undead that the Silent Strider was coming for them and that they could not escape.
When he had uttered and breathed his final breath of the howl, he breathed a sigh of relief. The rite of purification had been completed and his father was at peace. The Apache shifted back to his human form and wiped a tear from his eye before beginning to snuff out the base of the flames.
When all of a sudden the garou was thrown backwards slamming into a tree by a powerful burst of wind that erupted from seemingly nowhere. The weary Silent Strider having been caught unaware, shook himself free of the momentary stupor and readied himself to fight as he regained his feet.
As he looked up once more to the fire he noted that the flames themselves had changed color. Now they burned a bright white that was painful to look upon and even from a distance, Zas could feel heat radiating from the source. The only visible portion of the effigy he had crafted that was easily visible was his father's skull which emanated a subtle blue aura of flame. The formerly empty eye pits now full of smoldering burning coals.
A deep guttaral voice boomed out that Zas could feel almost more than he could hear. Listening to it made Zas ears begin to bleed but he could clearly make out the words as the skulls mouth moved in unison.
"Long has it been since I was sent forth from my masters side. She finds your path right and true as she guards the way to Lord Helios, so you watch over and prepare the way for the Kings."
Zas held his hands up to his eyes to try and cut down on the glare from the burning light, as he replied, "Who are you? Who is this master?"
The white light began to lessen and dim slightly, as the skull turned to face Zas and the coal filled eyes focused in.
"We are medjay, servant to Resheph and Nergal, ruler of the burning plague, flame, and horse; guardians of the Necropli of Gunu and gardens of Kirta, young Lord Montu, son of the Vulture King."
Zas blinked. One of my tribal spirits? "What have I done to receive this honor? Many have aided the Silver Fangs before. The king asked for help to kill the vampires who plague this land and my pack answered the call; this was my father's wish as well."
The white light grows very dim and the air grows cooler around Zas.
"We know not. We do only as commanded."
Zas nods, after a moment and asks, "What is it your master wishes to tell me?"
The white light flares back up in intensity, the heat returning to wash the area again. The skull moved forwards and dropped to eye level as it was held aloft by nothing aside from the blue flaming aura.
"Go on your path as you have been, but bear this boon as token of appreciation for your service."
No sooner had the words been uttered than the bright light surged skywards hurtling to a doorway through the barrier between worlds left open long enough for Zas to catch a glimpse of far umbral reaches and stars that left white spots in Zas vision for several moments after the spirit faded from view and the portal sealed.
His fathers skull rolled gently down to his feet, the eye sockets having returned to their empty black void. Zas reaches down to grab the skull which was suprisingly both cool to the touch and unfazed by the smoke from his pyre.
As Zas grips the head, he is filled by a boon from the spirits that leaves his mind spinning.
He slowly looks down at the skull in front of him and focuses in. "Thanks dad."
Home 
