12-17-2013, 11:44 AM
Phoebe was a bit uneasy that a Galliard would be leading the Revel. Sure Hector does a pretty damn fine job rousing the masses when he and his packmates tell their stories, but this? This is a different thing.
Immediately that uneasiness dissipates in a flare of Rage.
Hector makes his way through the ranks toward Desert Oracle, but when he tries to shove the Theurges he finds himself before a wall of black fur. Even in the warform Siren of Persephone is tall and too skinny, but this form is roped with lean muscle. Her claws are just about as sharp as anyone's, her fangs just as capable of tearing out Hector's throat.
The Oracles are all women grown. They are all warriors of Gaia. They can take care of themselves. But Phoebe is their leader, and so when Hector goes for Winona her Alpha's teeth snap so close to Hector's face he can feel the hot steam of her breath blown across his skin. He shoves at Keisha and Phoebe lowers herself to all fours, an awkward position in a humanoid form. She sinks her claws into the hardpacked earth, digs great gouges, hackles rising as she snarls. Phoebe chose this high exposed location because the Garou of Denver have been disparate for too long. Just as she showed in her first challenge for Caller, they may be wild and untamed. They may be city-bridled. But deep down (or riding on the surface of their skin, rippling through the bristle of their fur) they are all Garou. They needed to be brought together, to stand together, to be united.
Echoes of the Lost completes the rite Phoebe started. He builds up their Rage and soon they will run together, Rage together, roar and howl and hunt together. They will chase down an epiphling summoned for the purpose, by Phoebe or her sisters or some other Theurge in the snarling, growling crowd.
The howl goes up. When Phoebe joins in it is not the lovely captivating melodious voice they all know she has, but short and harsh and angry. Then she's off, running on hands and and then four legs as she shifts to something made for speed and power and slaughter.
Immediately that uneasiness dissipates in a flare of Rage.
Hector makes his way through the ranks toward Desert Oracle, but when he tries to shove the Theurges he finds himself before a wall of black fur. Even in the warform Siren of Persephone is tall and too skinny, but this form is roped with lean muscle. Her claws are just about as sharp as anyone's, her fangs just as capable of tearing out Hector's throat.
The Oracles are all women grown. They are all warriors of Gaia. They can take care of themselves. But Phoebe is their leader, and so when Hector goes for Winona her Alpha's teeth snap so close to Hector's face he can feel the hot steam of her breath blown across his skin. He shoves at Keisha and Phoebe lowers herself to all fours, an awkward position in a humanoid form. She sinks her claws into the hardpacked earth, digs great gouges, hackles rising as she snarls. Phoebe chose this high exposed location because the Garou of Denver have been disparate for too long. Just as she showed in her first challenge for Caller, they may be wild and untamed. They may be city-bridled. But deep down (or riding on the surface of their skin, rippling through the bristle of their fur) they are all Garou. They needed to be brought together, to stand together, to be united.
Echoes of the Lost completes the rite Phoebe started. He builds up their Rage and soon they will run together, Rage together, roar and howl and hunt together. They will chase down an epiphling summoned for the purpose, by Phoebe or her sisters or some other Theurge in the snarling, growling crowd.
The howl goes up. When Phoebe joins in it is not the lovely captivating melodious voice they all know she has, but short and harsh and angry. Then she's off, running on hands and and then four legs as she shifts to something made for speed and power and slaughter.