Chapter 1: To Look Up

I pull my coat tighter around me and continue walking slowly and carefully. I wear a scarf on my head decorated with chrome pendants, just as I wear matching appliqués all over my clothes that sparkle in the moonlight. I'm not the type for shadows, so why should I try to wear something subtle?

I enjoy the cool air and gaze pensively at the clouds of breath, following the path that fate has laid out for me. The crunching under my boot soles has an attractive echo, but it doesn't carry far. I am tempted to change my rhythm, to dance through the forest, but I hold myself back with a smile. I expect to meet someone here and have no intention of stumbling at this time.

I am not aware that there is a caern or a sept here, so I am waiting before I give a greeting howlm as it is too cold for me right now. But there is something that draws me here and I have learned to follow my inspiration and dreams.

Leaves gently crushed under his massive paws as Voice-of-Rust slowly made his way through the forest. He was a nightmare given form, a towering werewolf of black fur that had rough rust-colored patches erupting across his body like corrosion spreading over metal. His eyes were odd orbs of brown, but saw clearly this night.

Still, the Metis was ill at rest. He always was on this side of the gauntlet. This world had always felt hostile to him, while he was at home in the umbra surrounded by the spirits he had come to regard as close kin. He sniffed the air, looked around, pivoted his ears, looking for the source of his unease. He resented the trees. He wished for his home of concrete and steel. An odd thing for a garou, he knew well. It was not something he gave voice to for that reason. Still, he had been compelled to come, following he lead given by Mama Rat. He held up his paw, the trinket dangling from his wist from some strapping band extending under it, and he focused, feeling for its tug in a certain direction. There. He continued onward, eager to have this matter settled...

Ulysses inhaled the brisk night air. His wolf senses were sharper, but even in his human form he had the honed instincts of a predator. This was the place his ancestors had guided him to with dreams. Dreams of violence and fire. The violence didn't phase him, it probably didn't phase any Garou. And as for the fire, well, like the song said "Fire is the Devil's only friend."

Even though he was were his destiny had drawn him no destiny seemed forthcoming. Dreams were something you couldn't demand answers from. If they revealed anything they did it in their own time. He thought about shifting to his wolf form to take advantage of his wolf senses. Perhaps it was paranoia but he sensed he wasn't here alone.

Staś, as he was known here, sat down by the water and waited for someone... or something. He looked at the slowly waving reflection of the moon, by something felt off about it, maybe something about the way the light moved on the liquid surface... He couldn't tell exactly what it was, but it made him with uneasy.

His contacts have told him the place and the time to be, but did not specify for what. Some sort of informant with inside information on some big corps, he assumed, but looking at that moon brought back the memories of slaughter and the smell of blood. This was the same moon when it first happened... He knew they would be looking for him, they would scour the world to find him, if nothing else, just to save face.

Could this have been a set-up? Can he trust his new contacts? There was nothing to do now but wait.

*Snap*. Someone was here.

He crouched, ready to escape, and looked around for any sign of danger. He had to focus. Even if this was a set-up, those clueless soviets were not his real enemy now. Something far worse is coming and he is on to it.

There!

Is that a... teenager? He could see very well, but it was girl. Is she who he is waiting for, or just some crackhead lost in the woods?

Deep in the wood is a big, hulking form, larger than a regular wolf. With a deep breath, I turn towards her, a small cloud of warm air hovering shortly over my head, walking directly toward her. Up until now, there was no attack, so why should it come now? I didn't do anything to anyone in the last time, not here at least.

Enjoying the ground under my feet, the soft, crunching noise, I shorten the distance. When I'm at a range I don't have to shout but is far enough to defend myself should I err, I stop, straighten up - and growl in Garou, but in a manner of consummate elegance:

"I'm 'Dust Eater', metis Galliard of the Silent Striders. This time, this place, were laid out for me."

Let's see what happens next. The mantle was cheap, but the rest would be a pain to replace.

Stanisław (Staś) Mikołajczyk & Aisling "Ash" Byrne
Staś looks at the girl, studying her.

What's this tainted nonsense she is blabbing about?Could she... be one of them?

It is then he realizes the girl mentioned Gaia. Gaia as in... the tribe he was assigned, or belonged, to or something. He was still trying to figure that one out. All this werewolf business was still very new to him. Had you mentioned it to him a few years ago, he would have thought you were crazy.

"Did you... did you say Gaia? Are you also from the..." He leans closer and speaks quieter, as if sharing a secret that not even the trees should hear. "... tribe?"

This felt risky, but I guessed worse case scenario, she is just tripping on some bad acid and the whole tribe thing wouldn't sound that weird anyway.

Anuket "Dust Eater" Mohsen & Voice-of-Rust
The odd one approached. Voice-of-Rust watched intently for treason. It could be a Dancer for all he knew. He rarely interacted with humans, but he knew enough to know this one's appearance was abnormal. No fur. He sniffed the air. At least it did not smell foul. Then it introduced itself. It spoke in riddle, but Voice-of-Rust was well used to that from interacting with the spirits.
"Strider." Voice-of-Rust growled in reply, his massive maw forcing out the word while he paced to the side, sizing up the odd Garou. The brown orbs that were his eyes never seemed to blink, nor did they leave the newcomer. His ears twisted, checking for ambush.
"I am Voice-of-Rust of the Bone Gnawers." There was another growl. "I am here by the will of Rat."

Voice-of-Rust & Anuket "Dust Eater" Mohsen
I stand still as the creature approaches and circles me. What else can I do, challenge it? I remain calm, listening, especially for the tell-tale sounds or silence of an attack.

Then it becomes an introduction, albeit a fragmentary one, but still a person who belongs here. A city wolf, even more so than me. Not a Philodox, they know how to introduce themselves. Not a Galliard either. An Ahroun would probably be more aggressive. That doesn't leave many possibilities.

"Voice-of-Rust, I greet you. Rat seems to have guided you well."

I slowly spread my arms, even though the cold comes closer to my skin, but that's a small price to pay right now.

"You are a guest here, just like me. I invite you to find our hosts. Or you may prefer to join me in a Howl of Introduction, however far it may reach."

Patience. Sufficient patience.

"Hi little buddy, what are you doing out here?" He reached out to it like one would reach out to pet a really cute puppy. "Do you wanna be my friend?" He had few enough friends, estranged from his family as he was. He didn't think he was guided to this by fate, or ancestors or whatever, but he was willing to accept the happy coincidence. "I've got some biz to take care of right now, but we can go burn stuff later if you want to..."

Stanisław (Staś) Mikołajczyk & Aisling "Ash" Byrne
Black furies? Staś considered the name for a moment.
Sounds like some sort of social movement... a violent, anarchic one. But she is a Garou, not just a rebel teenager, so it could mean something else entirely. He was told there were other tribes, but this was the first time he met someone from one.

"Why? you don't like my..." He stops talking as he realizes that was not English she spoke. Nothing wrong with other languages, he himself was not a native speaker. But that was something else completely.

This was the language of the wolves who guided him through the frozen tundra as he escaped. He focused for a moment. No, her smell was not the same as theirs. 

"Are you the informant I'm supposed to meet here?"

Voice-of-Rust & Anuket "Dust Eater" Mohsen
"Hosts?" The crinos replied with a questioning snarl. What was this Strider speaking of? A howl of introduction? He was aware of no other Garou, had seen no mark of territory.
"I see no markers that other Garou have claimed this place. Who do you speak of?" Voice-of-Rust growled with annoyance.

Voice-of-Rust & Anuket "Dust Eater" Mohsen
I lower my arms again, closing my coat, look at him and nod.
"You didn't expect me here, and I didn't expect you either. But if we both felt the need to come here, there must be a reason. I suspect someone else will still be here."
I slowly shrug my shoulders.
"I could break my feet in this forest or shorten the whole thing with a howl. Someone will appear and either attack me or welcome me."
I look thoughtfully into the forest; it's not overly large, as I could see from the map on my way here, so a howl should suffice. I take a deep breath, then shrug my shoulders again, this time to myself, find a good spot and start to undress.
"So I'm going to do this now. I'll leave it up to you whether you want to join in or stay away."
I'm not really cold yet, but the cold is unpleasant despite its dryness. Transforming into wolf form, just as hairless as I am as a human, but even more gaunt, I enjoy the sensation of the forest before sitting down on my coat and letting out a howl.

Voice-of-Rust & Anuket "Dust Eater" Mohsen
"You assume things of me." The Bone Gnawer replied, keeping his distance but relaxing his pose.
"I did not feel the need to come here." Voice-of-Rust's rasping voice clarified while tilting his head a little, his strange eyes seemingly looking into the far distance, seeing something unseen.
"Rat sent me."
For what theurge could disobey his tribal totem? Rat was many things. A survivor, humble, but never weak. Only a fool would underestimate Rat. Rat protects the Bone Gnawers, but always remains paranoid and secretive, especially in her spirit avatar. Voice-of-Rust did not understand why Rat sent him here, but never doubted it was important that he did. To what end? Who could say..

He watched the metis transform, his shame manifesting a thousandfold, and begin the howl. After a moment he joined in, announcing his name, his tribe, his auspice.

Stanisław (Staś) Mikołajczyk & Aisling "Ash" Byrne
"Tainted?" Staś asks, confused for a moment, assuming that had something to do with the curse. Then he remembered this was not a curse. He had to get that idea out of his head. "Ah, yes, the Wyrm, yes. I have been told about it and that there were many tribes of werewo... Garou."

He stops for a moment, looking at the girl. "Well, I guess I must have gotten some taint on my way from work." Staś replies, unsure how he could have gotten tainted, if the girl was pranking him or, perhaps, if this was some sort of code used to identify the informant... one he was not told about. "Anyway, the name is Stanisław, but call me Staś"

Then, they hear the howl. Staś  turns around "'Dust Eater? What is that?"