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 Tame the Weaver

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Rends the Gar


Posts : 414
Join date : 2013-08-29

PostSubject: Tame the Weaver   Wed 30 Apr 2014, 01:29

The Clemons brothers crept through the outskirts of town, keeping low and to the shadows. Sylvester didn't know why, but he felt that he did not want to be seen just yet. He'd transformed to Crinos as soon as they'd hit town, handing his rifle to Daniel. There was no need to hide his true nature here; the whole town was Kinfolk to some degree.

The whole town was cast in an ambient purple light. The pillars of energy had burned out quickly, but the ground its self seemed to be giving off the glow now, casting shadows in alien shapes and freakish angles. Everything had a sharp symmetry to it; the shadows lining up and dividing perfectly. Crouching down, Sylvester could make out marks in the dirt path like many things had been dragged along the ground. Oddly, the drag marks were perfectly symmetrical, never deviating even a degree. Sylvester's head was spinning from the foul energies still in the air, but he motioned for Daniel to follow as they headed for the Caern heart at the center of town.

Even in the strange light, Sylvester could see Daniel's face was pale as his younger brother caught up to him, peering ahead into the darkness.

"Whatcha reckon's goin' on, Sylvester?"

Sylvester growled in response. He still couldn't speak well in Crinos. Daniel looked nervously to his big brother, licking his lips. Before he could go on, Sylvester caught a scent on the wind and raised a hand to silence him. Breathing deeply, Sylvester's hackles rose as another growl escaped.

Blood. Lots of it. Fresh.

"Death... ahead. Follow. Silent."

Daniel nodded, quietly pulling back the hammer on the rifle as Sylvester lead the way to the Caern heart.

A park had been set up in the middle of town. Flower beds lined the way, rows of saplings had been planted with a large open green in the middle set aside for children to play in. Crouching beside the General Store in the strange angular shadows, Sylvester could now see the flowerbeds were glowing more brightly than the rest of the town. He suspected that if he climbed to the roof of the store he would see the flowers and trees had been laid out in the design of the strange Glyph from the plans. The thought was pushed from his mind, though, when he saw what was in the Green.

Pa Clemons stood in his War Skin chanting in a strange language and holding a long silver rod no wider than Sylvester's finger that tapered off into a razor point. Around him, the purple tendrils of energy danced to the rhythm of his chanting, each tendril holding one of the townsfold captive. They weren't struggling. They seemed to be asleep as they were held floating above the ground. There weren't many of them left. A pile of corpses lay beside Pa, looking pale in the alien light.

Pa started a new verse in his song, and one of the tendrils danced forward like a sunbeam in a dusty barn, carrying its burden before the Theurge. Sylvester's breath caught as he recognized his mother, eyes wide and terrified. Pa's claw reached out, grabbing her by the hair as he continued chanting. He raised her up slowly, swaying the rod in time with the song. He hit a crescendo, then plunged the rod into her eye as she screamed.

Sylvester roared, charging out of his hiding spot as Daniel screamed and let loose a shot. The bulled deflected harmlessly off of Pa's coat, and Sylvester hadn't gone five paces before he was caught up by four tendrils wrestling him to the ground as another one grabbed Daniel. They brought the boys up to their father's side, Ma was still screaming and thrashing in his grip as he broke off his song, continuing to wave the rod in time as he chuckled and addressed the boys.

"Bout time you showed up, boy. It's your party after all. After tonight, ain't nobody gonna be able to dispute our claims here."

Sylvester's only reply was to snap his jaws at his father, desperately trying for his throat. He could see the pile of corpses more clearly now. Each was missing one particular part; a hand, foot, ear. Down at Pa's feet, Mr. Henderson lay splayed out with silver stakes driven through his wrists and ankles into the ground. His chest lay open, many of the removed body parts lay inside but not enough to account for the large pile of bodies. Mr. Henderson was still breathing, somehow.

Pa slapped Sylvester, bringing some clarity back to his son.

"You're a witness to history, boy. We ain't never had an opportunity like this. Kinfolk are somethin' special, and not just because they breed more Garou. Their blood's stronger than that of other men, gives focus and power to certain rites. Or it would, if those idiots in the Nation would use it to its full potential. What you're watching tonight is my life's work. Garou and Kinfolk blood and flesh, living and dead mixed together on a Caern on a moonless night. With certain rites in place and help from some friendly spirits, it's impossible to say what we might be able to do tonight..."

He laughed as he dragged the rod against Ma's throat, her eyeball still stuck on its tip. It made a sound like tearing paper as her body fell free.

"But I, Tames the Weaver, aim to try."

He kicked the body over towards the others, flicking the eyeball into Henderson's open chest as he opened his mouth, lowering the severed head like a plucked cherry.

Sylvester roared again, his eyes rolling into the back of his head as he thrashed against his ethereal bonds. Pa swallowed, looking pleased with himself as he stabbed the rod into Daniel's mouth, tearing free the tongue and slitting his throat open as he deposited the tongue, licking the rod clean.

The ground pulsed, flashing brilliant light up from the blood runes set around Henderson. He spasmed as his wounds closed, sealing in the bits of flesh. Taking up his song again, Tames the Weaver chanted as the wounds closed and Henderson cried in pain. Kneeling at the had of the bound Garou, Tames the Weaver rose the rod like a dagger, waiting for the wounds to completely seal before plunging it into Henderson's head between his eyes, then sucking on the other end like a straw. Henderson screamed, then seemed to deflate as the life was sucked out of him. The purple light was brilliant now, bright enough to hurt Sylvester's eyes even in his frenzied state. The earth shook beneath him, and the tendrils holding him slowly became more solid, stronger. Sylvester's mind was starting to go fuzzy, lost to the haze of rage. He could just make out the hulking form of his father. He seemed to have too many arms now, and stood tall above Sylvester's head. The smell of spider silk and fire ants filled his nostrils. He thought he could see a gargantuan form rising from the earth beneath his father, Tames the Weaver straddling it like a horse as he howled in triumph. Sylvester could just register a howl being carried on the wind in reply, a call to war. He passed out as roars and the hateful crikcrikcrik of cicadas filled his ears.


He was laying on grass, the sun shining down on his face. He could hear faint howls, cries from a nightmare. Opening his eyes, Sylvester saw that he was on a hilltop. He sat up, taking in his surroundings. The town lay below him.

Or what was left of it. What hadn't been burned had been crushed by something truly enormous. The green, where the Caern heart had lain was a massive pit. Sylvester couldn't see a bottom to it, but the sides of it were lined with what looked like massive spider webs.

Sylvester felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Turning around, he saw the reason. Standing there in full light of day a half dozen Crinos stood, most with feathers or bits of rock woven into their hair and with bison skin shields or tomahawks at their sides. Each one also bore serious wounds, still bleeding and many looking green and leaking puss. They regarded him silently for a moment, then turned and limped into the plains without a word.

Anger filled sylvester. How dare those Injuns judge him! It was their own damn fault for not killing Pa years before when they'd had their chance! Instead of doing their duty to Gaia they'd been too busy murdering Travis! Served them right to lose a few limbs!

Spitting, Sylvester got to his feet. He was about to head home, but realized there was really no point.

Everyone's dead or gone. Ain't got no chores to do now or nothin'.

He stood there thinking for a moment. His whole family was dead except maybe Pa, and God knew where he was.

"Well now what the Hell do I do?"

The wind gusted, and a piece of paper smacked into Sylvester's face. He recognized it. It was a letter he'd gotten from a surveyor's office, saying he'd come into some land in Texas. Ma'd read it to him and they'd had a good laugh over it, she'd thought it was a scam from the start. But now, with nothing else to do, Sylvester found himself considering the letter.

"Ah Hell. Why not?"

And with that, sylvester stuffed the letter into his pocked before shifting into Lupus and bounding off to the East to catch a Steamer.

He was angry, scared, confused, but most of all he hated his father. But he burried it all away, ready to take it all out another day. He could use that anger, but not right now. Now he needed to focus on the journey, and making a new name for himself away from the sickly little Caern and his insane Weaver riding father.
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