On Hallowed Ground

As the pack settled in once more with their home caern, greetings offered, handshakes given and their important encounters briefly shared with the Warder; the Silent Strider made his way beyond the informal welcoming committee which had gathered near the path's entrance.

The rest of the pack could regale the curious with the packs deeds of late. The philodox felt that he had worn the crown of being the harbinger of ill news long enough for the evening, so he instead sought out different company.

After searching around, the Indian warrior found a good spot and spent some time to himself just reflecting on recent events. His moment of solitude occasionally interrupted by laughs from the crowd that now gathered about his Brothers and sister.

He cracked an eye open however upon hearing another walking nearby.

"Good evening Harvester. I hoped I might see you at some point again. Do you have a moment?" Dead hands inquired softly.

The Silver Fang nodded and gathered her robe about her, sitting down across from Zas. Tereza's gaze wandered towards the other members of sept coming and going, passing beneath the shadowed eves of earth and stone. Her eyes were sharp and scrutinizing, dark chips of jagged flint. She seemed on edge, but then again, the old Garou had been born beneath the fevered light of the Warrior's Moon.

"Speak."

Not one to waste words unnecessarily, the Silent Strider took a slow breath before looking across the space between them and beginning.
"I have come across a few odd things. There is an Uktena war chief who goes by the name Hanging Maw. He prowls the Happy Hunting gro-- er, the Dark Umbra as a spectre whose pleas to Gaia go unanswered."

He watches the Silver Fang for a moment to gauge for some form of reaction or surprise. Undeterred by much of a lack of response he continues.
"He is the only one of our kind I have come across who dwells there."

The philodox gives an intense gaze full of iron resolve. "I believe our paths have crossed for a reason. I feel that the reason is that he should be brought back to serve Gaia in the natural way, or at the very least cleave and sever his ties to oblivion."

The apache's eyes soften, "But, I do not know how or even if such a thing can be done. I was hoping you might know more?"

He starts to also bring up another topic but waits to first hear her thoughts on this.

"It may be easier to take this unhappy moroi and devour it... but perhaps the easiest solution and the best solution are not the same." One of the Silver Fang's claws wandered towards her side, unconsciously checking for dampness seeping through her white robe.

"It is difficult to offer advice without having knowledge of this particular dead man... but dead men are still men. More or less."

Tereza smiled grimly. "Often less."

"Tell me- what does your Hanging Maw care about?"

The Silent Strider's gaze followed the ahroun's hand but gave no other signs that he had observed the act.

Zas nodded in response to her initial statement, but matched her grim expression as she emphasized the dead.

Her question however seemed to have been on the younger philodox's mind for some time as he looked away from her gaze for a brief moment.

"The First Beloved of the Cherokee seeks vengeance upon the wyrmcomers for the slaying of his people. This is his goal, and perhaps his all consuming passion and reason to exist. He wages total war on those who call themselves the Hierarchy" As he speaks, the words come out with more than a tinge of sympathy, but he tries without success to mask it, by clearing his throat. "He believes himself unchanged from when he strode Gaia's face, as he is simply doing in death what he did in life-destroying the wyrmcomers, but he has no problems with their deaths feeding Oblivion."

He runs his hand over his head as he says, "But what he cares about-...I believe he cares that his sacrifice and the strength of the other great war chiefs, who were willing to give of themselves so that their people may escape and live is remembered; and that his people are protected-as any good Chieftain should."

Zas looks back to the Silver Fang and says, "That is who he is."

"It sounds as if this moroi of yours may desire revenge more than anything else. Unfortunate." Tereza clucked her tongue softly and folded her arms before her as she withdrew into her own thoughts. Zas waited patiently for a moment, the starts burning overhead in their slow ritual dance across the heavens. Crickets played their songs, and down from the river a particularly loud frog could be heard singing.

One of the Silver Fang's eyes snapped open, peering at the Philodox. "I once heard it said that revenge grips the heart like an eagle's talon. It does not let go once it takes hold."

"I do not know if this Hanging Maw can be saved. I do not know if it wishes to be saved. But I know this- you said this creature imagines it still serves Gaia." Tereza waved her hand dismissively. "Bah! It is wrong, of course; better to die than to become mad shadow clinging to grudges that cannot ever be made right."

The Ahroun slowly swept a thin hand through her greying hair, and shuddered slightly despite the warm night.

"Whether it can find redemption all comes down to one thing, I think: what matters more to Hanging Maw... Gaia, or his revenge?"

Zas B'ul lowered his head in acknowledgement of the woman's words. "Wise words. I will see them put to good use."

The Silent Strider looks up to the Silver Fang Ahroun and says, "Though he is not the only thing I wish to pick your brain on."

Sitting up he mentally recalls the packs excursion into Houston before speaking, "When my packmate and I were in Houston, we found the Fianna. They seemed to have been drawn and trapped into some form of underworld creature, that slowly drained them of their vitality and vigor as their bodies lay still and cocooned."

He gives an inquiring gaze to see if she had heard of this from the Fianna as he continued. "The entity's touch was cold and its numerous hands felt of the void but it spoke and threatened to send all of us to the deepest dark parts of oblivion."

The philodox considered the next words carefully lost in his thoughts, "Yet when I cast it down into this swirling pool of the darkumbra, it seemed gleeful."

The Apache stirred himself from his stupor. "Mocks the Night ancestor seemed to recognize what the entity was, but could not give it a name-for it was ancient, but it was clear that whatever it was, was a powerful enemy. And the creature itself claimed that it had been bound to its spot by a garou from the nation-not the pure."

Turning to face her once more, "I do not tell you this to brag or frighten you, but I wish to know if you know what this is or could be? This creature was primarily undone due to its arrogance and thinking that we were not capable of harming it, but I do not believe it was fully eradicated, and if it should return, it likely will not make the same mistake twice."

When Tereza heard Zas tell of how he banished his foe, she shook her head dismissively. "Most of the dead are insane. The mind does not last forever, but death, outside of the Mother, is eternal. It likely welcomed destruction."

When Zas went on to talk about how not even the ancestor spirits of the Shadow Lords could put a name to the creature, the Silver Fang nods quietly. "This is not surprising, but it is an ill omen." She begins to speak but then closes her mouth and is silent for a few moments. The cool night wind stirs the spring dandelions around the two Garou, making them dance and fly.

"Not all dead things are men... but you know this. Hanging Maw was one of us. But there are some dead things that were not men, or Garou, or even mockeries. They were something else. Pagan gods, maybe, or nightmares of the dead given form. Wicked old things, hungry for things that can never be."

Tereza gingerly pressed a hand to her side and wincing, stood to go. Before she disappeared down the path to the Silver Fang quarters, she turned and said this:

"If... if the dread ghost spoke the truth, I know of only one of our kind who can bind ghosts like that- the high prophet of the Sicarri."