08-15-2013, 11:18 PM
When the last of the howls have grown dim, and when the spirits have blessed the meeting with their presence, their aura, or merely their cries from unseen shadows, the gathered septs grow serious. Their own souls are ignited, joined, unified despite the horrors they've witnessed. Many are refusing to whisper about the missing elders from Cold Crescent, particularly because none of the elders of Forgotten Questions are whispering about it. They aren't even giving each other Meaningful Glances about it.
Regardless: the moot grows quiet, and a few people shift in place but settle. It is time for business.
Avery walks forward in hispo. She holds a long, curving bone in her jaws, the edges already jagged from being broken off. If the throat-scarred Rotagar were here, she would recognized its source. Rabid Jack and Still Waters likely recognize it, too, after a moment. A few garou who have walked through the penumbra of City Park may be able to guess where it came from.
It is the rib-bone of a giant worm...thing. That Avery unzipped with those same jaws, shredding its gullet. That Avery fought with Jack, Keisha, Nina. Perhaps it is hubris, an expression of pride, to bring this bone, reminding everyone of one of many killing blows she has dealt to minions of the wyrm since coming to the city. And of course that could be what it is, for she is a Silver Fang, and what else are they, if not filled with arrogance and self-adoration?
The truth is simpler, as it often is: this is a bone she knew she had a right to. This is a trophy she knows she has a right to take, snap open, and offer back to the sept.
With a hard crunch, Avery cracks through that bone. The sound of it riots through the quieted air, and she drops it to the dirt. A moment later she rises from all fours, wearing the same dedicated black yoga pants, white tank top, and black workout jacket that she has to every moot thus far. The jacket is half-zipped, her hair tied back in a ponytail. Diamonds glint in her earlobes. Because of course she dedicated her diamond earrings.
"Speak,"
she says, and her voice rings clearly, bright and open to the farthest ears that can hear her. It has a surprising softness to it, for being so impossible to ignore; it is inviting.
"From the highest rank to the lowest, speak. Do not be hindered or silenced by doubt."
Avery turns a slow circle, her eyes meeting many pairs out there. Garou she knows. Garou she doesn't.
"Those above, elder and athro: instruct us in the truth. Speak to us in authority; do not doubt our unity tonight, or our submission to your station. Trust that we will hold to the law.
"Those who lead and learn, adren and fostern: challenge those who it is in your right to challenge. Guide those it is your duty to guide. But speak," she implores, and her eyes do fall on one of those she is speaking to directly, for a moment as that word falls just a bit quieter from her mouth. "Do not doubt your own wisdom, or doubt the necessity of your words."
Avery pauses there, her feet resting close to the bone that she has left in the dirt for now. She finds a few eyes she knows from fighting together, speaking together, from a makeshift maybe-sort-of warmoot in a hotel room not so long ago. "Those of my rank," she says, her voice rising, infused with something more powerful, though no more or less earnest than she has been thus far,
"speak up. We will all honor the law of respect; we must not doubt that those above us will dishonor the law of mutual respect. We are many tribes, but we are one people, and we share one law. We will not doubt ourselves. We will not doubt each other."
Reverence of Dawn turns, and looks to the Grand Elder of Forgotten Questions, an aged, battle-scarred Theurge whose connection to Earth is so deep that at times he seems made of stone, as slow to speak and as long of memory as the formations that surround them, solid as iron in the penumbra for their age, their meaning, their power. She is not faint of heart, but even she quails a bit to face him, speak directly to him, with anything like authority or direction in her voice. That voice does falter; it sounds more like an imploring, which is in fact more appropriate:
"We are one people. We live for the same purpose. We fight the same war. We die for the same cause."
Avery swallows. She turns again, facing the rest of the septs, lifting her voice once more. "Speak the truth, according to the law we share," she says, her voice solidified, urging, vibrating with energy. "Listen to your people, according to the law we share."
With that, she turns to the first circle, the highest ranked. She crouches, lifts the bone that stands almost as tall as she does, holding it like a curving staff. It begins to move between garou, giving weight to their voices.
--
[Truth of Gaia is active. The difficulty of the below roll is your character's Manipulation + Subterfuge. If your character speaks a falsehood, FPM me and let me know. If your character is not sure of whether what they're saying is true or not, FPM me and let me know!]
Avery @ 10:45PM
[Truth of Gaia: Intelligence + Empathy]
Roll: 5 d10 TN? (2, 6, 8, 8, 8) ( success x ? ) VALID
niko @ 10:45PM
Witness!
Regardless: the moot grows quiet, and a few people shift in place but settle. It is time for business.
Avery walks forward in hispo. She holds a long, curving bone in her jaws, the edges already jagged from being broken off. If the throat-scarred Rotagar were here, she would recognized its source. Rabid Jack and Still Waters likely recognize it, too, after a moment. A few garou who have walked through the penumbra of City Park may be able to guess where it came from.
It is the rib-bone of a giant worm...thing. That Avery unzipped with those same jaws, shredding its gullet. That Avery fought with Jack, Keisha, Nina. Perhaps it is hubris, an expression of pride, to bring this bone, reminding everyone of one of many killing blows she has dealt to minions of the wyrm since coming to the city. And of course that could be what it is, for she is a Silver Fang, and what else are they, if not filled with arrogance and self-adoration?
The truth is simpler, as it often is: this is a bone she knew she had a right to. This is a trophy she knows she has a right to take, snap open, and offer back to the sept.
With a hard crunch, Avery cracks through that bone. The sound of it riots through the quieted air, and she drops it to the dirt. A moment later she rises from all fours, wearing the same dedicated black yoga pants, white tank top, and black workout jacket that she has to every moot thus far. The jacket is half-zipped, her hair tied back in a ponytail. Diamonds glint in her earlobes. Because of course she dedicated her diamond earrings.
"Speak,"
she says, and her voice rings clearly, bright and open to the farthest ears that can hear her. It has a surprising softness to it, for being so impossible to ignore; it is inviting.
"From the highest rank to the lowest, speak. Do not be hindered or silenced by doubt."
Avery turns a slow circle, her eyes meeting many pairs out there. Garou she knows. Garou she doesn't.
"Those above, elder and athro: instruct us in the truth. Speak to us in authority; do not doubt our unity tonight, or our submission to your station. Trust that we will hold to the law.
"Those who lead and learn, adren and fostern: challenge those who it is in your right to challenge. Guide those it is your duty to guide. But speak," she implores, and her eyes do fall on one of those she is speaking to directly, for a moment as that word falls just a bit quieter from her mouth. "Do not doubt your own wisdom, or doubt the necessity of your words."
Avery pauses there, her feet resting close to the bone that she has left in the dirt for now. She finds a few eyes she knows from fighting together, speaking together, from a makeshift maybe-sort-of warmoot in a hotel room not so long ago. "Those of my rank," she says, her voice rising, infused with something more powerful, though no more or less earnest than she has been thus far,
"speak up. We will all honor the law of respect; we must not doubt that those above us will dishonor the law of mutual respect. We are many tribes, but we are one people, and we share one law. We will not doubt ourselves. We will not doubt each other."
Reverence of Dawn turns, and looks to the Grand Elder of Forgotten Questions, an aged, battle-scarred Theurge whose connection to Earth is so deep that at times he seems made of stone, as slow to speak and as long of memory as the formations that surround them, solid as iron in the penumbra for their age, their meaning, their power. She is not faint of heart, but even she quails a bit to face him, speak directly to him, with anything like authority or direction in her voice. That voice does falter; it sounds more like an imploring, which is in fact more appropriate:
"We are one people. We live for the same purpose. We fight the same war. We die for the same cause."
Avery swallows. She turns again, facing the rest of the septs, lifting her voice once more. "Speak the truth, according to the law we share," she says, her voice solidified, urging, vibrating with energy. "Listen to your people, according to the law we share."
With that, she turns to the first circle, the highest ranked. She crouches, lifts the bone that stands almost as tall as she does, holding it like a curving staff. It begins to move between garou, giving weight to their voices.
--
[Truth of Gaia is active. The difficulty of the below roll is your character's Manipulation + Subterfuge. If your character speaks a falsehood, FPM me and let me know. If your character is not sure of whether what they're saying is true or not, FPM me and let me know!]
Avery @ 10:45PM
[Truth of Gaia: Intelligence + Empathy]
Roll: 5 d10 TN? (2, 6, 8, 8, 8) ( success x ? ) VALID
niko @ 10:45PM
Witness!
my whole life is thunder.