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 Knife of Dreams (Graphic imagery warning.)

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Rends the Gar

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Posts : 385
Join date : 2013-08-29

PostSubject: Knife of Dreams (Graphic imagery warning.)   Sun 16 Feb 2014, 02:39

Rends the Gar had followed his pack back to Perdito, eager to be on the hunt for the Phoenix and its allies but more eager to see his packmates protected in hostile territory. He had Frostblood's scent, so he figured Zoe could take a few hours to investigate the strange lights before the trail got too cold. As they got into town again, Rends went over to the desecrated church to watch over the mortals in case anything funny happened.

"Hey! Rends! Where ya goin'?"

Penelope trotted up next to him, shifting back int Homid form.

"I'ma take a watch with the humans. I figure I'm not a whole lotta use to Zoe and the other right now, so I'll rest up for the next fight."

"You need a hand? You reckon there's another spider thang in the celler?"

Penelope was grinning, almost salivating as she eyed the church, already spoiling for another fight. Rends laughed and patted her shoulder.

"Nah, I reckon I kin look after a few crippled humans with spirit biscuits stuck in they chests. You keep with the others and watch over em, alright? I'm counting on you."

Penelope nodded eagerly, scampering off to rejoin the others. Rends whistled after her, and as she turned back around he raised up an arm to her in a wave.

"You done good tonight, girl. We'll make a fighter a' you yet."

When he got to the church the humans were all still unconscious except for the Mexican with the Shadow Lord tattoo, who nodded to Rends in greeting. Rends slung his rifle over his shoulder, nodding over his shoulder towards one of the less destroyed houses.

"I'll keep an eye on 'em for ya. Go get some sleep. You look like yer gonna keel over any minute."

The man looked as if he wanted to protest, but a steely glare from Rends sent him scampering off with one last nervous look at his townsfolk. He left with a nervous nod to Rends.

Once he was gone, Rends did a quick sweep of the church, checking for any Wyrm scent. When he found nothing new, he returned to the injured folk. He wasn't a doctor, but he knew they didn't look good. He could smell some of their wounds festering already. The priest and Ranger were better off, but still unconscious from the combination of their rough days and the Delerium of the fight in the chapel. Sighing, Rends sat himself down with his back to a wall where he could keep an eye on the prisoners and the entrances to the church. It had been a long couple of days, and the promise of a great enemy to hunt left him feeling too anxious to pay proper attention to the watch. Restless, he set his rifle down and reached for the belt loop where he kept the knife Roarin' Jack had given to him.

He looked it over, admiring the craftsmanship of it. One solid piece of steel formed the blade and curved back around on its self to form a handle. The blade was razor sharp always, and the knife was so light he could barely feel it resting in his palm but in spite of the hard use he'd put it to the knife remained undamaged. Rends could appreciate good craftsmanship like that, even if he didn't know the first thing about the spiritual side of it.

This here's more than just a knife though.

Roarin' Jack had told him as much, and Zoe had confirmed it when she'd fixed the knife for Rends. It could catch dreams and play them back to you. Roarin' Jack had said he'd used it to get visions of the future and past, but Rends hadn't seen the appeal of that. He didn't want to know the future. He figured most places he went there was folks to kill and his pack to keep alive. The rest would sort its self out along the way. He felt like he understood his role as Garou and Ahroun. Kill the enemies of Gaia, live in service of Gaia, die young and strong with an enemy's throat in his jaws. But now, they were facing a complete unknown. Nobody knew what this Phoenix was, and Eaton's vision of the Skin Rippers made things more complicated. The Prodigles were in deep, fighting blind.

Rends knew that was a great way to get everyone killed.

Resigned, Rends focused on the knife, closing his eyes and focusing his energy into it. He could feel it growing warm in his hands. Even though he hadn't planned on using it he'd been sleeping with it under his pillow, the easier to reach it if camp were attacked in his sleep. Now he was glad he'd done that. He broke out in a sweat as a wave of heat washed over him, and with a sudden disorientation as if he'd taken a bad step going down some stairs, Rends was standing before his Pa, blood dripping from Pa's Crinos jaws.

Pa stood in the town square, the village around them caught up in an inferno as the old Theurge chanted a song that made Rends' skin crawl. There were bodies scattered everywhere, Rends and Pa were the only living souls here. They were both standing in the center of a ring of glowing runes written in what looked like blood. Pa was holding a Klaive in one hand, and in his other he raised a struggling woman up into the air by her hair. Rends felt his stomach drop, ferocious anger welling up at what was to come.

Not this! Anything but this again!

She screamed, and Rends recognized his mother just as Pa swiped the Klaive across her throat, the body dropping to the ground. Rends screamed, struggling to transform and tear his father to bits, but the dream was in control. Rends could only watch as his Pa raised up the still dripping head of his mother, holding it like a cherry on a stem as he lowered it into his mouth. Rends screamed again as the now twisted, monstrous form of his father turned to regard him, still chanting his song.

All at once the fires went out, Pa vanished, and everything went black around Rends. He could still smell the fire though, could feel its heat on his face. He heard a shuffling off to his left, and he instinctively raised up his hands and a rifle materialized in them. He saw a sudden motion and pulled the trigger.

It was only then that he saw his younger brother Daniel standing over their youngest brother, Travis. Travis' face had been ravaged and his entrails hung down past his knees in a gaping wound. The bullet caught Daniel between the eyes, and blood started pouring out through the gaping wound. Rends screamed again as tears streamed down his face he dropped the gun and fell to his knees as his dead brothers shambled towards him, dead eyes searing into his soul with their silent accusation.

Rends curled up in a ball, crying and trembling, willing the dream to end but it wasn't finished with him yet.

He felt the world shift around him, and with a sick twist in his stomach Sylvester uncurled himself, looking out on the new scene before him.

He stood in the center of the Camino Real Caern, the deep night all around him silent and solem. The two raised mounds of fresh dirt where his sept mates lay burried were in front of him, shoots of new grass starting to sprout out of the graves. Sylvester reached up to take off his hat and from the corner of his eye he caught another small clearing with piles of fresh dirt and deep pits sitting at the ready. There was a white linen sheet next to each pit with what looked like a body lying on top of each sheet and a lone figure standing with its back to him next to them. Already knowing what he'd find, Rends tipped his hat to All Friend and Lune Stalker before making his way to the clearing.

His packmates lay on the ground, grey and cold. He silently approached, choking down the urge to vomit. They were older than they were now, faces lined and in Mocks' case some gray starting to peek out in his hair. Rends stood next to the other figure, both of them silent for a time. The other figure was silently weeping. Weeping so silently that Rends wouldn't have even known of it if he couldn't smell the salt tears on his face. Rends turned to the stranger, but was surprised to see his own face staring back, haunted and aged with more than years.

"Don't do like I done, boy. Don't let your rage direct you. We are like a fire. We need direction and control 'afore we can get any good done. Control and direction. If'n ya ain't got that, you'll end up destroying everything you fight for. Don't do like I done. Let the full moon guide your Garou ways, but let your human heart temper it."

A warm breeze came up behind Rends, and the scene before him blew away like grains of sand on a porch. He felt a chill, felt like he tripped, and was back in the church drenched in cold sweat with tears still streaming down his face. He sat there for a moment, trembling silently as waves of emotion overcame him and he struggled to contain the Rage inside. After a few minutes, he was able to wrest control back. He held up the knife again, staring at it as he wiped his eyes with a dirty handkerchief. He resisted the urge to snap the thing over his knee.

God damn you, Roarin' Jack.

He put the knife away as he got to his feet and slung his rifle over his shoulder. The humans had barely moved, though the Ranger seemed to be coming to. He left the church, spying the rest of his pack gathering outside. He didn't know how long he'd been out, but it looked like they were done with their task. Rends wiped his nose again with his shirtsleeve, clothing sticking to him in spite of the breeze thanks to his sweat. His head was swimming, he was confused, angry, grieving, and scared. But none of that mattered. His pack needed him to be strong, smart. Whatever else he'd seen, he'd learned one thing from the visions.

Being a Warrior is more than killing enemies. The hunt was on, but when they found the Phoenix Rends the Gar would know it well, and he would strike it down before it could take anything from him. Now greatful for the delay in the hunt, Rends rejoined his pack eager for news.



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