Moonbridge clearance.

[flint_garou]

"The others followed; but Gimli had to be dragged away by Legolas: in spite of the peril he lingered by Balin's tomb with his head bowed."

Once it seems the scouting and clearance group has assembled, Oath-Ring lifts his head to look at those present. ~In a few days,~ he rumbles, ~the plan is to lure the wasp-spirits over a moon-bridge to a new place. Mount St. Helens. There is a place there rich in the Wyld where the wasps will be welcome. It is a long way. The Umbra will hold dangers between here and there. There are always minor dangers on moon-bridges, we can't do anything about that for them now. You are to look for large dangers. Things along that distance between here and there, which would threaten the next moonbridge and the group that uses it.

~You can avoid the sorts of small threats that will only affect the moonbridge, I will open now, if you can, or deal with them as safely as possible. Save your strength for any big threats. You're looking for the sort of thing large enough, dangerous enough and permanent enough that it would affect any moonbridge following the same sort of route in the next few days. If you find anything, deal with it if you can. Come back to report—the Alpha and the Warder will need to know what you find and what you do.~

The Gatekeeper turns to the large, floating Lune, and nods. The Lune changes—stretches, elongates, launches a part of itself out into the dark arch of the Umbra, until before them all stands a white, shimmering bridge, stretcheing from the Bawn to the south-east and out of sight. ~I leave it to your experience to organise yourselves the best way. Gaia go with you,~ Oath-Ring intones, and steps aside to let the other Garou advance. ~I will watch this end and make sure no threats follow you.~

When Bag-of-Snakes arrives on the scene she heads for Oath-Ring as if to greet him, but stops short when she sees him in a state of trance, shaking her head in irritation at the little ways of crescent-moons. Instead she looks around as if to measure the amount of other garou present and to plan how to conduct any fighting that may be involved in the near future.

Leaves-None pads into view quietly, following the scents of those already arrived with her nose dusting the ground. Her head lifts to take in the gathering briefly before she gives herself an all-over shake and sits to listen.

Speech-and-Silence hops up onto all four feet and trots over to the base of the moon bridge. He makes a great play of snuffling at the ground all around where it touches the umbral earth, then looks up and declares to the other garou with great feigned sorrow, No pot of gold! They lied to me!

Scar stirs himself and stands, stretching up into Crinos as he does so. He considers the gathering, his torn ear twisting askew at Kevin's quip.

Seeks-Raging-Water, Requiem, and Little Firebrand arrive together, coming from the general direction of Edgewood. Far above in the Umbral sky, a small falcon circles, letting out a hunting cry as her three Garou prepare to head into battle.

Wildfire had been standing a few feet from the rest, already in the war-form, sharpening his claws idly on a small rock. He nods silently to Norman as the bridge is opened. ~Those who will, follow me.~ Very little preamble today, it seems. His claws flicker in silver even as he steps onto the bridge, skin thickening as well.

Bag-of-Snakes gives the comedian ragabash a withering glare, then steps up alongside Wildfire. ~I have your back, now and always,~ she promises.

Snakepatcher admires the shine on his sharp claws, then paces over to the base, joining the Ragabash Walker. He snorts at the dismay about the lack of gold. It must be on the other side. Can you quickly run over to fetch it? He shifts up into the Crinos form and stands on two legs.

Requiem's tongue lolls, ears twisting as they catch his tribemate's comment, and then there's very little delay. The Walker cliath nods to his packmates, stepping forward. ~Let's do this.~ It's barely audible, but it's certain, and Requiem flexes his hands and arms, clearly ready.

~Skilled fighters in the front, skilled fighters at the rear,~ Scar says in a rasping growl. It's not an order, though perhaps stronger than a suggestion. ~Greener Garou in the middle.~

Leaves-None assesses the mingled Garou shrewdly for a moment and then rises to quickly follow Wildfire and Bag-of-Snakes, slipping up into Hispo as she goes. Following, following. Eyes open, ears up.

Speech-and-Silence tests the moon bridge with one paw, as if unsure it will bear his weight even in this lightest of his forms. Then he hops onto it and trots a few paces up and forward, but pauses before he passes the two Get who lead the way. I could, he allows. I'm not sure I will, though. Best if we stay together. Yes.

Seeks-Raging-Water finds one of the more suitable chunks of rock, and like many of her auspice, takes a moment to trail her claws across it, honing them for battle. That done, she begins moving toward the moon bridge with her pack, awaiting their turn to start down the path.

The Moonbridge seems to be formed of pure light, yet it is solid enough to walk upon. The path's surface is smooth, cool, and slightly slippery, and the bridge is perhaps ten feet wide, no more—enough for four abreast to move easily in Homid or Lupus but not for them to fight that way. It stretches from the ground in the Umbral Bawn, up, away, into the dark Umbral skies and off beyond what can be seen.

Snakepatcher follows the Ragabash Walker onto the bridge with confidence that no matter his weight and despite its appearance, the bridge will bear his—and that of the many other crinos.

Formation within his pack is an easy thing, and Little Firebrand breaks away from his packmates to slip amongst and past the other garou upon the bridge to scout ahead. Sights sounds and smells are relayed in a constant but unobtrusive tone to Flint and Lex over their link, trusting the other two to pass information along to the others.

Song-of-Vengeance has remained relatively quiet throughout the trip across the Umbra—growing up Human means some of this stuff is kind of new. She follows along with Little Firebrand's pack, watching, waiting.

Wildfire checks behind him once to get a tally of those coming before turning to face down the given path, even as they start to organize themselves. Without any further ado, he starts off at a ground-covering march, expecting others to do the same to keep up or stay ahead.

Speech-and-Silence makes a small wolven huff to draw the attention of Wildfire. Do you wish a scout to go on ahead to watch for danger? If so I volunteer.

Wildfire, with a simple motion, waves Speech-and-Silence ahead.

Leaves-None silently measures her pace to keep up with Wildfire, giving her fur a brief shake as she pads along the moonbridge. The Gnawer carries an attitude of otherwise relaxed alertness for the surroundings.

Speech-and-Silence duly puts on a spurt and zips on upward until he catches up with Little Firebrand, whereupon he keeps pace with the Shadow Lord. You watch that side, I'll watch this, he suggests to the other scout.

There is nothing to cause any alarm for a time. The bridge passes at first over once-familiar terrain, showing it from an unfamiliar angle and making clear the changes wrought by the Wyld. In the direction of the Caern and with this elevated viewpoint it is possible to dimly glimpse the top of a massive tree there, far larger than any tree that existed before the wasps arrived. It's clearly possible to see a long way ahead, and to see clear space to both sides and below, making the scouts feel a little superfluous for now.

The moonbridge goes the other way to the direction in which the Caern lies, and the Bawn is soon left behind without any sign of danger appearing. The outskirts of Kent Crossing can be spotted, far below: a grey and angular shape clawing at the green of the woodlands. No doubt pattern spiders weave their eternal webs, but none of them reach up here to the moon's path. A few wind-spirits, bird-spirits and Lunes dart about, friendly enough towards the travellers and curious as to what they are doing way up here.

Snakepatcher watches the changing and changed terrain with interest, pausing to try to get a better view of the huge tree, but the march requires him to scuttle to keep his place.

~Looks almost like the tree. From. From that dream,~ Requiem mutters, noting it to himself for later thought no doubt, as they pass over the tree, keeping up and being careful of his footing on the bridge. His tail flips eagerly, and he glances at his pack alpha, and at the Fury galliard, looking ahead as though waiting for the first thing they're going to encounter.

Little Firebrand tilts an ear toward the Walker ragabash's approach. His suggestion is taken with agreement, an eye angling to look at the adren before the younger no-moon wolf angles himself away just a bit. Enough that he's still in easy sight and communication with Speech-and-Silence but away enough he can watch and listen without the other's sounds and smells as distraction.

Leaves-None eyes the landscape as she moves along, ears flicking towards the spirits and Lunes but not paying them too much mind. She keeps an eye on where the other two Ragabash are and casts her attention behind her now and again to keep the others in her field.

Scar lopes along at the back of the group on fours, favoring his bad leg but otherwise not doing badly to keep up with the rest of the group. His head turns this way and that as he goes, wary and alert.

A part of Song-of-Vengeance wishes she had brought a camera, or had at least been around to have the dream to explain the tree. She does pause momentarily to look down at the now unfamiliar Caern, running along at a slow lope to catch up, bumping shoulders with Seeks-Raging-Water and the rest of her pack.

Bag-of-Snakes marches along behind Wildfire, not troubling to make any pretence of stealth or subtlety. She looks back at any spirits that come close enough to draw her attention in a matter of fact manner, as if it's nothing unusual for a bunch of Garou to be up here—and as if they have every right to be here. Confidence, is the watchword.

Seeks-Raging-Water is a touch hesitant at first at traveling on a beam of light, her one previous experience with moon bridge travel being over almost before she realized it had begun. After the first few steps prove it to be solid, though, she begins to enjoy the experience, looking down over Kent Crossing far below and out at the bird spirits and lunes so comfortable within their own domain. As they move farther from their starting point, though, she settles more into a wary alertness, keeping her eyes primarily on the skies to her left and right, since they've got forward scouts and Salem guarding their rear.

The journey is remarkably uneventful for some considerable time. Enough that the Garou can realise just what sort of distance is involved, over a hundred miles to be covered on foot, on a bridge that seems to be arching ever higher above the ground. The few perils first encountered are easily dealt with by the group: a couple of small darkness banes swiftly dispatched without injury to the Garou. Only after that does anything new come into view: a mistiness or milkinesss far up ahead, into which the bridge vanishes.

Speech-and-Silence pauses a moment and sniffs up ahead at the nebulous prospect, then trots a little further forward, nose still aquiver and ears pricked. He turns to exchange glances with Little Firebrand. What do you make of it?

Little Firebrand isn't too far behind Speech-and-Silence when the disturbance appears, studying the strangeness with some wariness. Go with caution. May be harder to see, smell, and hear inside, and Wildfire-rhya should know what to expect. He hesitates just a moment after his thoughts, letting his packmates know what's been found, then looks at the Walker as if to ask if the older ragabash is ready to go inside.

Wildfire slows down as the scouts do, motioning the rest to come to a slow halt as well. He takes one heavy breath as he turns around to look the group over, is reminded that there's no theurge with them, and mutters something foul. He waits for word from the scouts.

Seeks-Raging-Water moves forward to relay information from her packmate to Wildfire and the others around her. ~We can expect to have our senses dulled while we're inside that, which makes it a good spot for an ambush.~

Leaves-None slows at the call, pacing a step or two ahead of Wildfire to scan the distance between the scouts and the rest of the group warily.

Pack> Little Firebrand says, "The cloud-thing is more like a layer of curtains. Like hanging sheets. Only a few small spirits are around. It's like thick, heavy fog."

Speech-and-Silence isn't about to let a junior ragabash show him up. Forward! he suggests brightly to Little Firebrand, and forward he goes, until the fog hides him from the other garou.

Little Firebrand looks amused when Speech-and-Silence takes the lead this time, but starts when the older ragabash does, into the thick and swirling fog.

Snakepatcher, deprived of getting a bird's eye view of the changed bawn, marches along without distractions until the Get calls a halt. He looks curiously ahead of the group.

Requiem steps forward to match his packmate. ~So far they. Say, only a few small spirits around,~ Requiem adds, his focus for a moment clearly on what's being relayed from his packmate, but at the same time, the Walker's clearly on edge and ready to go into the disturbance at the slightest need.

Bag-of-Snakes looks more irritated than concerned when the fog blocks their path and causes the main party to halt. She fidgets and scowls while they wait for a report back from the no-moons.

Those who pause can see that bridge comes to something like shimmering layers of curtain, formed like hanging sheets filling the Umbral surroundings up ahead. Only a few small spirits come between the Garou and this billowing, shifting barrier. Closer to, the curtains appear more like viscous fog than cloth: heavy spiderweb air that can be slowly pushed through. There's a tiny electricity-spirit. An even tinier metal-spirit, flying past with a crackling, tinkling sound and the occasional 'ping!'. The Lune gafflings still dance and play around the bridge formed by their far larger sister. None of them cause trouble during the wait.

Pack> Little Firebrand feels suddenly more angry, unexplainably. "Safe inside, but Rage is …just be careful. Let the others know, it's testing even me."

Wildfire glances between the lightning and metal spirits distrustingly. ~Even the small can carry power.~ He does, however, start pacing forward once more.

Little Firebrand, fur bristling, gives himself a shake as more information goes between him and his pack. Though he stays close to Speech-and-Silence now, his form becomes blurred and indistinct.

Song-of-Vengeance steps forward, looking to the group. ~Let a small group go into the fog to see. I have the gift of Heightened Senses—perhaps it will help with our passage.~

Seeks-Raging-Water lets out a snarl of irritation. ~We'll need to be careful. The fog is making their rage harder to control, pushing them toward frenzy. If Ragabash are feeling it that strongly, it will probably be worse for those of us born under fuller moons.~

Scar, waiting at the rear, is the soul of watchful patience. His good eye narrows at the report. ~Noted.~

Requiem is suddenly, even more alert, and he glances towards his pack alpha before speaking up. Not too loudly but so that he can be heard. ~We will all need to be careful,~ Requiem agrees, glancing about and gathering himself before proceeding, carefully, forward.

Leaves-None rumbles a faintly amused agreement with the Get and drops back to her original position. Her ears perk towards the relayed information intently before she joins the forward movement.

Bag-of-Snakes snorts. ~The very thing we needed,~ she comments with heavy irony, gazing at the fog with hackles rising.

Wildfire pauses at the very edge of the fog, tapping his silvered claws together. ~Then you may want to keep your distance from me.~ He then steps into the fog.

After a few minutes, one garou emerges from the fog. It is Speech-and-Silence, and his fur is fluffed out and bristling. He trots back to Wildfire to report. The fog conceals a strange landscape, broken and odd. And the hand of Luna lies heavier there, filling us with her Rage. But we saw no actual immediate danger. My fellow scout remains to watch. Shall we rejoin him?

Arriving somewhat late to the show, Memory appears as a black shape, well above the gathered Garou. At her side, a smaller and somewhat more shadowy bird keeps pace with her.

Wildfire actually does bump into the ragabash, causing a brief snarl for the Get. But as the news is related, he looks into the fog before back to the rest of the group. ~Break time is over. Get moving. And stay focused.~ He then heads on in.

Bag-of-Snakes bares her teeth briefly at the scout as she marches into the fog behind Wildfire.

Snakepatcher clicks his razor-sharp claws, like Owen did, and marches into the fog as well.

Leaves-None trots quickly after the Get and keeps her ears up and alert as she moves into the fog.

As each Garou passes into the barrier, and is momentarily dazzle-blinded by its strange, thick-yet-breathable presence, each also feels the weight of their Rage grow heavier. Anger bubbles close to the surface, even for those born under the smallest moons. Those who have already spent some of their inner fury feel it return anew.

The moonbridge continues out beyond the barrier, leaving it behind. Looking along it, it seems to curve, as though trying to encase the entire area in a ring of that strange and glittering layer, but it fades or vanishes or simply reaches beyond the capabilities of Garou perception. Around the Garou, the Umbra seems to have re-entered an area of solid land. It is not like the Penumbra, however. It's mismatched, misaligned, as though someone had taken all the lands of earth and broken them into pieces and shaken the pieces up before tipping them out again to form a new ground.

Incongruously, there is a small signpost visible, not too far from the side of the moonbridge but off it all the same. It's a simple wooden post rising from the ground. It has wooden board tacked to it, that once formed a pointer or finger, but it's been knocked askew. It's almost certainly not still pointing in its original direction. The whole thing is worn and weathered to pale grey-white, the surface cracked and splitting. Words are barely visible on the board to those with the best eyesight.

Song-of-Vengeance and the two members of Unfettered not already inside the fog return to their original place in the formation, careful to give Wildfire a bit more space than before, though still passing information from Little Firebrand as needed. Song-of-Vengeance seems especially alert as the three advance, while Requiem and Seeks-Raging Water concentrate on keeping a tight reign on their rage.

Speech-and-Silence skitters away from the Get, ears flat and tail lowered, before lolloping forward again to rejoin Little Firebrand and advise him that the main group of garou is on its way to rejoin them.

Scar shifts into Hispo form just before he passes the barrier. His hackles go up and his lips peel away from his front teeth; his body language goes stiff as he tightens the leash on his inner monster.

Once inside the barrier, Requiem's concentration continues, and several steps in, the cliath drops down to lupus, continuing to focus and maintain his distance from any other garou while still remaining safely on the moonbridge.

Little Firebrand approaches the sign and, after giving the words a once over adopts a contemplative look. Almost immediately he looks first as if he'd jumped head first into ice water, then complete concentration as he proverbially swims against a strong current.

Sounds begin to reach the ears of the Garou, first detectable to those with the sharpest senses. Distant gunfire, and the deeper rumble-boom of heavier explosives. Cries. Roars. Marching chants. The clash of metal. The keenest noses pick up the scent of gunsmoke and blood. The lie of the land continues to be hard to determine, confusing the eye of anyone trying to scan for danger. The earth shifts around them, with little constancy, although that solitary sign-post back behind them remains a constant, and, far, far away and off the relative safety of the moonbridge, other signposts can also be glimpsed.

Speech-and-Silence presses onwards, though with increasing signs of skittishness in his progress. He keeps as close an eye as he can to the side of the moonbridge that has fallen to him to scout, as well as up ahead, plainly fearing trouble is about to strike.

Leaves-None bristles at the heaviness and fullness on the other side of the barrier, ears flattening slightly as she looks back towards Scar. Shaking herself, she turns forwards to glimpse the skewed sign. Padding to the edge of the moonbridge, she starts to peer towards it before the equally distant sounds bring her ears alert. A disconcerted rumble builds in her throat as she moves to keep pace with the group.

Snakepatcher's hackles bristle as he enters the fog, and he whips his head back and forth as he struggles to keep his equilibrium. He shifts down into hispo, but continues to struggle with keeping his focus.

~Fuck the signpost,~ Wildfire snarls out, every word a growl. ~We have our path. Do not leave it.~ He: presses onward, perhaps not hearing the distant ruckus yet.

Bag-of-Snakes notes Scar's shift to hispo, and somewhat grudgingly, follows suit. Her tension is still high. ~What does the sign portend anyway?~ she growls.

Writers sometimes describe things as appearing 'out of thin air'. It seldom happens that way, but this time, it really does. At the border of the chunk of land within which the Garou are currently situated, danger abruptly appears, blasting over the border of the land into view, and earshot—and smell, and giddy adrenaline-fueled reality. Horses, blue-coated cavalry, rifle-fire, and the rumble-boom of field guns, a confusion of soldiery, all suddenly arriving on top of a group of already keyed-up Garou.

Requiem shifts up into hispo at the arrival of the cavalry, snarling, and the young Glass Walker tenses stone-still for a moment.

Scar stops dead and goes rigid, choking back a growl. He cocks his head to eyeball the incoming army with mingled anger and impatience.

Song-of-Vengeance growls at the Yankees making an appearance, but is otherwise okay.

Snakepatcher freezes, rolling glassy eyes at the invading army, and violently shakes, barely remaining composed, as much as a violent Ahroun can under these conditions.

Speech-and-Silence is another one to take on hispo form when he sees enemies appear on the scene—even if, as a Briton, he lacks the feeling of wrongness that an American-born garou probably has at the anachronistic sight. He prepares to do battle, hackles rising.

Seeks-Raging-Water drops down to hispo at Requiem's silent urging, but even so, it's clear that she restrains herself from charging directly at the approaching soldiers only by the slimmest of margins. She tenses, ready to let loose at an instant's notice, but at least for the moment, holding until Wildfire gives orders.

There is definitely little patience in the Get Jarl today. The fur between his now calloused and warty skin stands straight on edge, and barely he keeps control with sheer iron will. However, the one calvary member that did appear right before him gets the full brunt of his ire as he snarls and gnashes his teeth at it.

Oh, well, there are the baddies. Circling back, Memory and her ever-present shadow sweep over the horsemen and well behind them. She opens her beak and voices something that should be familiar to anyone who has watched old western films. The 'injuns' are attacking, while whooping out war-cries. Hardly the most historically realistic sounds, but it might be enough to make the Cavalry-men worry about what is behind them, rather then focusing on the Garou in front of them.

Leaves-None freezes briefly at the explosion of sound/smell/action and then drops her hispo form low, eyeing the oncoming hooves of the horses as if seeking a path through them.

All is confusion for that initial moment, that first split second when the attackers appear. Then those Garou still able to concentrate can start to make more out of what is going on. There are cavalry, perhaps a dozen or more, already ridden down onto the werewolves: horses wild-eyed and foaming at the mouth, riders equally as wild-eyed and wielding pistols and sabers. The first blood comes not for the cavalry, or the Garou. It comes from the field-guns. Three of them, moving all by themselves, spitting fire and thunder—and heavy shells into the line of Garou. One hits Song-of-Vengeance full in the chest and sends her flying backwards, right off the moonbridge and into the lands beyond. One whizzes past Snakepatcher's ear but does not connect. The third round goes wild. Behind those three a line of riflemen can be seen forming up and preparing to fire—but the Garou have even more immediate threats to worry them. The cavalryman right before Wildfire checks as his horse rears, but the one beside him aims a slash at the Jarl's head. Two more attack Leaves-None, while single horsemen are already at each of the others and attacking with pistol or sword, with others unable to get in close yet.

Bag-of-Snakes' spell in hispo can be measured in seconds rather than in minutes. As the cavalry charge, and the projectile sends Song-of-Vengeance flying backwards, the Get explodes into a savage crinos being again, spitting pure anger and savagery at the nearest horseman. She springs upward, seemingly intent on dragging him off his steed and down to the ground.

Scar's low snarl bursts forth in a roar of fury as the battlescarred old halfmoon explodes into Crinos at the cavalryman that comes at him. In a blink he's lunging at the rider, tearing, clawing, biting, in a whirling of violence and rage.

As the cavalry charge, Little Firebrand explodes in Crinos. Eyes wild, lips drawn back in a vicious snarl, he launches at the horse before him heedless of and need to defend himself. Against the larger target his Totem's boon grants him far greater effectiveness than one would expect, and the horse goes down—but not before the rider has speared him through the shoulder with a saber. The rider seems part of the horse, not a separate entity, and, unable to recover the saber, goes for a pistol.

Seeks-Raging-Water lunges at the horse nearest her, using the Falling Touch when she slams into it, ideally sending both horse and rider sprawling to the ground. Requiem, meanwhile, targets the horse and rider closest to him. With rage-fueled speed, he pounces on the horse attempting to knock it to the ground, then bites at the rider's weapon arm with the intention of ripping it off entirely with the powerful jaws of his hispo form.

Speech-and-Silence springs aside from the cavalryman who's trying to ride him down, and makes a bolt. Not away from the enemy, but towards them, at a speed which must surely be aided by Luna's rage. He's seeking not to attack the enemy lines, but apparently to go through them to where another horseman lurks behind his forces.

Finding herself at odds with not one, but two horsemen quickly cuts Leaves-None's plan of getting on the other side of the horsemen short. Her form blurs a bit at the edges before she bursts upwards into Crinos, turning her claws on the horses before their riders, seeking to take them down to her level.

Though the pain of sabre tearing through flesh doesn't appear to register, it adds fuel to Little Firebrand's unbridled attack. Locked in frenzy, he claws and tears at the horse and rider he's already knocked down with a wildness and none of the careful strategy he usually employs.

Snakepatcher whips his head about to find what just zipped by him and finds the cannons. Snarling and taking the cannonshot quite personally, he lunges through the line of horsemen towards the cannons behind them, hoping to turn the cannons towards the riflemen, or if they refuse, to rip off their wheels.

Wildfire can be seen to shrug as the other calvaryman swings a sword into the side of his head, the metal making a dull 'thwack' and little else. Bad choice. The Jarl chooses now to vent his rage, pouring it on the horse and the man riding it while ignoring the one that he snarled at a moment ago.

Memory keeps making noises behind the riders, trying to distract them from the Garou they are attacking. She adds a few big bangs to her repertoire, mimicking the Calvary's guns.

Memory's efforts are a drop in an ocean, given the existing noise and confusion. The three big guns roar once more, shot screaming through their own lines and felling one rider from behind. The other two rounds strike Seeks-Raging-Water and Bag-of-Snakes. The Shadow Lord is flung backwards as Song-of-Vengeance was earlier, and the single-minded Bag-of-Snakes is dislodged from her target, but both sets of claws have already taken a heavy toll—the Get's moreso than the younger Cliath. The Lord's target is down and the Get's still stands but barely, and both are torn up. The Jarl's first target is down and scrabbling weakly, but the one he roared at rallies and plugs him with a pistol bullet, this time doing some small damage. Speech-and-Silence's sprint goes unnoticed in the smoke and roar of the battle, rounding the riflemen to come on the commander broadside. Firebrand lives up to his angry name, his opponent trying to give as good as he gets but weakening faster than the Garou. Salem, on the other hand, turns his first target into so much spirit-rag-and-bone, emerging, frothing and with eyes rolling, from the center of the fury and looking blind to anything but the pull of his Rage. Snakepatcher barrels up to one of those field guns and starts to disable it with violence. Leaves-None takes a pistol-bullet to the shoulder for her own efforts, and still has two cavalry attacking her that look in reasonably good shape. Even in hispo, Requiem's mass alone isn't enough to bring down a cavalryman, but he seizes the spirit's weapon-arm which prevents him from taking damage.

Slavering, Scar crouches low over the tattered remains of the horse and rider that had attacked him, and before the spirit bodies can dissipate, he tears into them again, ignoring the battle to rip and consume as much as possible, as fast as possible.

Bag-of-Snakes seems not to care about pain or injury, or anything much except bringing her injured target down and sinking her teeth into it.

Snakepatcher uses his great jaws to remove wheels from the field-gun with all the ease of a hooligan removing wheels from a wheelchair. He doesn't manage to get the gun aimed towards the riflemen, but at least that's one less gun aiming and shooting at the Garou.

Little Firebrand throws himself almost wildly at the next of the nearest calvary men around him as the one he'd dealt with first quickly gives up the fight and dies. Savagely, with claws and teeth, still in the throes of frenzy he aims to take down the next horse and rider in similar fashion as the first.

Once through the line, Speech-and-Silence, still moving at preternatural speed, flings himself at the horseman who's bringing up the rear, jaws and claws both flashing as he attacks.

Wildfire spends a brief moment of concentration before bending down towards the horse he just fell, still kicking or not, to seek a purchase as it would seem.

Leaves-None snarls at the impact and pain and gives up the two-front approach, instead launching herself in a claw-first lunge up at one rider. She'll use the horse as a ladder if it gives her more purchase in her ascent towards the rider's head.

Memory falls silent, as she focuses on watching the carnage below her. Unless one of the garou seems to be on the verge of dying, she'll content herself with keeping an eye events as they unfold.

Seeks-Raging-Water staggers back to her feet after the impact of the field gun, a bloodied mess but still alive. She's still riding that razor's edge between control and frenzy, will alone keeping her from toppling over it. While the horse she downed struggles to get back to its feet, the Ahroun keeps it between herself and the guns as she bites for the rider grabbing a limb in her teeth and shaking back and forth for all she's worth. Requiem, meanwhile, continues his rage-fueled strike on the cavalryman he injured with the goal of finishing it off and moving on to attack the next one. Reeling from the impact of a cannonball fired, Song-of-Vengeance howls in rage, launching herself toward the line of calvary. Field guns take a few minutes to reload, so closing the distance does multiple things—makes it harder to aim, for one, and might spook the gunnery crew into making a mistake or spook the horses. Claws slash at the horses' legs, seeking to dismount their riders and open a hole for the other Garou to attack the guns.

The big guns fire again. The partly dismantled one fires blindly, taking out two of the riflemen in the process before exploding with enough force to fling Snakepatcher backwards, into the hindquarters of a cavalry line horse, which is too startled to react. One of the others hits Leaves-None and sends her flying, with just enough time to grab or claw the head of the rider she attacked as she goes backwards. The other gun seems to have something against Seeks-Raging-Water, and hits her again squarely despite her attempt to find cover. In the process it rips the cavalryman's arm from the Shadow Lord's mouth and disables it. Bad of Snakes and Requiem both tear madly at their respective foes, taking fire from other horsemen. The Get's is turned into so many ribbons, edges fading; the Cliath's is not far off that condition but still has a little life left. Song-of-Vengeance, visibly badly injured, goes barreling blindly through the cavalry line, taking minor nicks and scratches on the way. Three cavalry take advantage of Scar's distraction to chop and fire at him, leaving him hedged in on all sides when his feast fades. Speech-and-Silence speeds not unlike one of the bullets whistling around the area, smack into the leader, who doesn't even seem to have spotted the Garou. As if in slow motion, horse and rider, together, tilt and keel over, and start to fade.

Speech-and-Silence has no time to triumph in his victory; instead, as soon as he regains his feet, he's running again. In the other direction, the one from which the cavalry appeared. It doesn't seem to be a coward's flight, but rather, as if he has another target in mind, as yet unseen.

~More incoming!~ Memory bellows, surprisingly loudly for such a small creature. Compared to the garou below, at the very least. ~Think it's the group that this one was running from!~

Little Firebrand continues to claw his way through his next target, heedless of damage from the cavalry-spirits.

Bag-of-Snakes's enemy is fading, but it doesn't seem to stop the ferocity of her attack. She claws and bites at it as it dematerialises, some of her slashes going through to tear up the umbral ground below.

Leaves-None growls and grabs for the head of her target with her claws before the impact of the shell knocks her backwards, aiming to take it with her. When she does land, the Gnawer rolls gingerly to her feet and scans for targets while gulping air back into her lungs.

Scar goes down in a hail of sabers and bullets, and for a moment things look very bleak for the old Glass Walker as he slumps to the ground, unconscious or dead. And then he's up again, a myriad of wounds closing, mismatched eyes wide with renewed fury as he launches himself at his attackers for another round of violence.

Wildfire finishes seeking purchase on the horse, oblivious to his surroundings even as another bullet strikes him, sinking claws into flesh if need be before giving a mighty heft. There's something monumental apparently in mind.

Seeks-Raging-Water is hit again and thrown backward even as she kills the cavalryman she was fighting in the process. Miraculously, although shaken by the blast, she doesn't look to have been badly wounded by it. Even so, it takes her a moment to clear her head, so she's not immediately back on the offensive. Requiem howls in pain and fury but nonetheless kills his opponent, before turning to mount a sideways charge against the gun that has had it out for his pack's alpha, snapping and tearing at anything that gets in his way. Song-of-Vengeance fights defensively, staying out of the muzzle arc of the field gun, trying to heal up before assaulting the gun again, even going as far as grabbing it by the wheel and yanking it, trying to spin it on it's axis, aiming it AWAY from the group of Garou.

Little Firebrand tears and shreds, using claws and teeth to cut through flesh and cloth alike. The damage and injuries from surrounding calvary only egg on his anger and further fuel his rage, though he's obviously bleeding and hurting none of it's given a second thought. When one enemy is down, he angles on to maul the next.

Snakepatcher is nearly as startled as the horse, and he lashes out, slicing out a chunk of horsemeat from the plumpest region of the equid. He continues butchering the horse with merciless efficiency.

Warning given, Memory disappears from view, as she flies off in the direction that the riders came from.

The badly-injured Song-of-Vengeance can do little to harm the big guns, and goes down under a volley of rifle-fire only to struggle weakly back to sufficient consciousness to try and drag herself into cover. That same volley blasts across the whole line, catching friend and foe alike. Little Firebrand creates his own mini-circle of clawed and fanged death, not unlike Requiem but with less control; Scar leaves a far wider and bloodier swathe in his wake, the aged Walker putting paid to any doubts about the capabilities of that Tribe's hand to hand combat capabilities. Snakepatcher's single heavy blow throws his victim right back on its haunches, unable to stand on all fours again. Leaves-None can find fewer cavalry to face, caught as they were in rifle-fire, but the line of riflemen itself is unbroken. Wildfire is flexing muscles and preparing. Bag-of-Snakes is taking gunshots as she tries to eat rapidly-evaporating spirit-stuff, and Speech-and-Silence is heading off towards the sound of new hoofbeats.

Scar continues to act as a whirling vortex of mindless and relentless violence, berserking his way from one target to the next—and one can but hope that no ally gets in his path of destruction.

Speech-and-Silence suddenly begins to set up a dreadful howling and wailing, running back and forth and generally appearing to make himself as conspicuous as it's possible for a garou to make himself. And given the power of a hispo's howl, that is fairly conspicuous.

One gunshot that the cliath Glass Walker takes, or his existing injuries, but something snaps, and the death and destruction that Requiem creates loses that edge of control, he stops seeking bigger enemies against which he has a tactical advantage. The galliard snaps from hispo into crinos and simply begins rending the nearest enemy in front of him with teeth and claws before moving on to the next.

Leaves-None assesses the field between gulps of breath, quickly moving in a path that aims to take her either to one end or completely around the firing line. If she can succeed in flanking the riflemen, she'll come at them from the side, claws and teeth at the ready.

Seeks-Raging-Water continues to hold things together, despite her rapidly fading control and the near constant impetus to frenzy. With two of her packmates out of control, she keeps an eye on them as best she can, but begins making her way toward the fallen Fury Galliard, focusing her attacks on any opponent that threatens her ally, looking relieved when it becomes clear, at least, that Song-of-Vengeance is still alive as she begins increased efforts to take cover.

Bag-of-Snakes seems to finally realise that she's attacking empty air. With eyes full of nothing put pure bloodlust she lurches back to her feet and throws herself at her next target, one of the remaining infantry who's survived that whiff of grape-shot.

Snakepatcher takes a break from butchering the horse to stare at Speech-and-Silence. He's gulping air from exertion, but he seems otherwise himself.

Wildfire hefts the horse and rider up enough to sling it into the path of another rider nearby. Horse-legs are usually a bit frail, one would hope. That done, he looks off towards where Memory had called out a warning and charges forward, snarling in fury.

The Jarl bodily tosses one cavalry horse-and-rider-spirit into another and takes them both out in a two-for-one deal. Frenzies take their toll on the soldier spirits and the cavalry unit is dismantled, dismembered, and several other words beginning with 'dis'. This makes it a worrying lookout for any non-spirit still close to one of the Frenzied Garou. One big gun reminds the world that it is still functioning as its fire knocks the wind out of Little Firebrand and flings him over a lip of land twenty feet back. Leaves-None charges in on the flanks of the rifles, who seem oblivious to her oncoming attack. Seeks-Raging-Water comes under fire as she fights her way towards Song-of-Vengeance, but her claws also do damage and a rifleman falls. Snakepatcher's pause lets him hear the new hoofbeats falter in response to Speech-and-Silence's howling.

Snakepatcher tenses, turns as if immediately expecting more horses right behind him, and howls a sharp warning to the group of Garou. ~More are coming!~

Scar puts an end to a dying horse's nerve-wrecking screams with a snap of his jaws, then lifts his head and looks around, fanged muzzle still hanging open, eyes wide and mindless as he looks for his next target.

With most of the Garou farther back among the riflemen, Seeks-Raging-Water apparently decides that the best way to protect herself and Song-of-Vengeance alike, while also assisting her other allies, is to deal with the remaining field gun, since she's one of the closest to it. She takes the barest of moments to search for any weaknesses that she might exploit, and then launches at it with rage-fueled speed attempting to destroy or disable it. Whether or not she succeeds in doing so, she'll be making her way back to cover as quickly as possible afterward.

Speech-and-Silence redoubles his efforts, even throwing himself to the ground as he howls, whines and ululates.

Memory makes a re-appearance. ~Not enemies! The Yakima are not enemies! They are hear from the Battlerealm! We need to close a gap to send them home. I need a wolf to follow me! Follow me!~

The fury with which Requiem had taken to dismembering the cavalry is still there, and unfortunately for the cliath, the nearest person is his tribemate. There's the anger and speed of frenzy as the cliath recklessly, heedlessly, thoughtlessly launches himself towards Scar, fighting brutal against the bigger Garou.

And that call from the raven brings about a sudden and miraculous change in Speech-and-Silence. Instead of rolling about as if in a fit he leaps to his feet. ~Here! I am nearest,~ he calls out.

Leaves-None falters in her charge at the remaining riflemen when the call from above reaches her ears. A quick glance upwards at the raven and she changes course abruptly, dropping into Hispo for the sake of speed.

Wildfire glances around for the next target and to get an idea of what's going on elsewhere on the battlefield. For a moment he's distracted by the goings-on over yonder, with Kevin putting up such an extraordinary show. Luckily, he's combat-savvy enough to clock his tribemate—his tribemate!—charging in snarling and slavering. Quick as a wink, with the aid of his own rage, he dodges Viv's charge and smacks her with a rabbit punch as she goes past him, off-balance.

Seeks-Raging-Water suffers the same problem as Snakepatcher. Dismantling the gun puts it out of effective action in the long run, but the resulting blast as it gives up throws her up in the air to land ten feet back and knock her unconscious. As a bonus, it also takes out some of the riflemen. A Thralled Scar finds himself presented with an enemy on the form of a Frenzied Requiem, something that can only end badly. Leaves-None and Speech-and-Silence go haring off after Memory in response to the Corax's call, their departure unhindered by friend or foe. Snakepatcher comes under fire from the riflemen, but can see leaves-None and Speech-and-Silence running off after the bird then pausing to look at something. Little Firebrand is still trying to scramble back into the area after having been blasted over a drop in the landscape. Song-of-Vengeance is not in any shape to do anything much at all apart from keeping her head down. The spirits continue to do nothing novel, very much as if they are running through rehearsed moves, the rifles firing in unison and in ranks. Wildfire takes down his fellow Modi, helped in this by rifle-fire, which catches Bag-of-Snakes in a couple of places. He's also hindered by it, as something finally manages to hurt him, spirit-bullets not, apparently, being the same as bullets in the physical Realm. Fortunately the experience does not invoke yet another Frenzy.

The battle-hardened Philodox and the young Galliard clash together in a frenzy of teeth and claws, neither side giving any quarter, neither side showing any mercy. And there's a moment when Requiem seems to get the upper hand with a vicious slash at Scar's blind side and a kick to his stomach. But Jack Salem doesn't have the reputation he has for nothing, and the tide quickly turns for the cliath as the adren bears down on him, talons ripping through fur and flesh, and locks onto his throat with his fangs. He bites down, hard.

Even his death throes continue to give claw against the Adren Glass Walker, but it's for naught in the end. Requiem's dying breath is a loud one, enraged and pained howl that abruptly cuts off. Silence.

Snakepatcher begins to react to the Corax's call, only to be beaten by not one, but two others who respond and move faster. He stalls, grumbling as though his engine's stuck in gear, although he's under fire by the riflemen, and turns back to see Garou on Garou action. He reacts by charging towards the Walkers, preparing his gift of Falling Touch to take Salem down. He's done it once before, can he manage it again?

Wildfire, gasping for breath after laying Viv out flat (and seeing her revert to her birth form), takes another look around and sees, too late, what's going on between Salem and Flint. The Jarl begins to charge at the Glass Walkers with all his might (and his speed) in the vain hope that he can repeat the knockout procedure with Salem before it's too late. A vain hope indeed, as it proves.

Memory is off to whatever gap in the Umbra she was talking about earlier, with her ever-present Stormcrow shadow and the Garou that have decided to follow her lead.

Scar, as it turns out, isn't at all difficult to subdue; the death of his tribemate at his own claws acts like a shock of cold water, abruptly dousing the fires of frenzy; he puts up a token resistance at best, and that sluggish, as if stunned.

Speech-and-Silence follows after Memory, up above, until she reaches a large pile of what looks like ordnance. As he does so, he shifts into crinos form, the better to start picking up crates from the pile. ~We're gonna blow a hole in reality!~ he calls out, with a distinct note of glee in his voice—perhaps the only garou on the scene to have come out of the fight unscathed and in the best of moods, and little knowing the havoc that's going on back at the main battlefield.

The remaining Garou are left to pick up the pieces and to rally what's left of themselves, those still standing, to finish off the riflemen. Bullets still fly; some even hurt. Meanwhile, Speech-and-Silence, Leaves-None and Memory all seem to have vacated the area, save for that cryptic call from the Ragabash.

Song-of-Vengeance staggers to her feet, cannon-shot still making her upper left quadrant look horridly mangled, holding it together. Barely.

Seeks-Raging-Water lies bloodied and unmoving where the blast left her, so takes no part in finishing off the riflemen, though the fact that she isn't reverting to her breed form is probably a good sign. It's a safe assumption to make that she's going to be at a very high risk of frenzy when she does wake up, however.

Leaves-None behaves in similar fashion to the other Ragabash, sniffing around the large pile before carting off supplies and hightailing it after both him and Memory. Albeit with less fanfare.

Snakepatcher pulls off his attack on the Walker Adren with a great cry of despair. The hail of bullets barely registers, but he wheels about regardless to take out his grievance on the riflemen.

Scar may not be difficult to subdue, but that doesn't mean that Wildfire isn't sorely tempted to treat him as though he were a criminal "resisting arrest" by falling down the stairs at the police station. Perhaps it's fortunate for Jack Salem that there are other garou now clustering around to witness how Wildfire takes him down. In any case, the Jarl does so clinically and with a minimum of fuss and further bloodshed.

If wolves could yell out no half as harshly as mother's tongue or even human tongue, that's the word that would be expelled from Little Firebrand as life leaves his packmate. His head comes over the rise just after his angry cry, but something about making the last of approach gives him pause. His eyes quickly seek out his living packmate, offering whatever assurances and rallying motions he can over their link before turning off to follow Leaves-None. Though torn, bloodied and pained in ways he can't describe, he pushes himself into running after the older ragabash.

With two Adren Ahroun to hand, there's no doubts of the outcome Scar is out for the count, and there are still ample enemy on which to take out frustrations. They go down faster than cavalry, too. Meantime, there's no clue what the ragabash with the Corax are up to.

No clue what they are up to, but Memory can just be glimpsed way ahead. If she's with the two that ran off, they must be burning Rage to keep that speed.

Wildfire throws Scar's limp body down as though it were a cord of firewood, and with about as much care as one might treat the normal cord of firewood. The Jarl, a look on his face that could curdle milk, whirls away from the Glass Walker and instead goes hunting after those few riflemen who remain, mainly already injured or dazed by the goings-on. The Get show their foe no mercy, it is often said. Certainly Wildfire shows these soldiers none whatever.

~Is there a healer?…~ Charlene croaks, making her way over to where Seeks-Raging-Water lies, staying well and truly behind her in case the Ahroun wakes.

Memory eventually re-appears. ~Well, there is going to be an awfully big boom soon,~ she notes, absently, as the Stormcrow at her side circles lower. ~And here I come, the air-ambulance. I'll help anyone who needs a little patching up.~ Stormcrows are creepy things, with a knack for finding the weak and maimed. Noki is no exception to this rule and soon, the stormcrow is pointing out the most grievously injured Garou to Memory. Dropping out of the sky, the corax does what she can to heal those in need with the aid of her gift.

The rifles are gone and faded too, no sign left of the battle, before anything else happens. Then, far away off in the distance from which Memory came, there is a rumbling bang. As it fades, it is picked up by the land around. The whole place trembles, the moonbridge remaining the only visible solid surface that doesn't start to shake.

Less than a minute after the explosion rocks the whole area, a small dot in the distance rapidly grows into a larger dot, and then into a hispo garou, the front-runner of a little cluster of dire wolves all running at flat-out speed. It's Speech-and-Silence in pole position. ~Warning! Warning!~ he howls as he runs up to the other garou. ~This place is gonna vanish! Onto the moon bridge, everyone!~

In spite of all of Snakepatcher's beating up on various objects, he seems to be the best off of all the combatants, and so he picks up various immobile Garou to drag back onto the moonbridge, those that aren't being carried by anyone else.

Song-of-Vengeance grabs Seeks-Raging-Water as best she can, cradling the Crinos in her arms for a second almost comically before flinging her over her shoulder, and heads for the Moon Bridge.

~If you love your ass as much as you love Gaia, move, move, move!~ Leaves-None howls, echoing the sentiment with a bit less tact without ever slacking her speed.

Once Seeks is on the bridge, Char goes back for Salem and Flint. Gotta give a burial.

The shaking grows worse, the ground cracking and breaking up underfoot. Thankfully the Moonbridge stands firm. All can be helped, carried or dragged onto its smooth, white surface for the still conscious to watch the pocket Realm come to pieces all around them. The last to reach it's safety are jumping between broken fragments above yawning nothingness. It is awe-inspiring, terrifying, magnificent and sorrowful, the fragmented lands finally swirling underneath and withdrawing back to the borders of whiteness, then snapping out of existence altogether. Only the moonbridge is left, free and clear, arching unhindered through Umbral space.

Little Firebrand leaps and jumps as the ground gives way under his feet, stumbling at some points and throwing himself at others to keep away from the ever growing chasm that spreads behind him and the two elder ragabash leading the way. As he gains more solid ground, his form hits hispo and heads straight for Lex. Injuries all scream in protest though the older of the two Shadow Lords pays little mind to that as he shoves himself beneath his packmate to carry her, awkwardly, toward and onto the bridge.

Speech-and-Silence belatedly realises from the atmosphere that not all is well. ~What is wrong? We… won?~ And then he sees Flint and disobeys his own command for perilous seconds, staring at his tribemate's limp body, only moving when Charlene grabs it. He makes it back to the moon bridge by the skin of his teeth, and wearing a face which suggests that it is now a matter of little import to him whether he leaves this place again or not.