Tales Sung: Willow's Memory

Halloween 2011

During the talesinging portion of the moot, Willow's Memory will rise. His Glabro flesh will be painted blue with frost, His mouth caked in blood, wild eyes and form reminding any who have met Wendigo of the powerful and intimidating spirit.

A moment later his eyes destroy the illusion, welling up with sadness as he begins to speak:

"I am not a Galliard, but spent my youth raised in a community of storytellers and hope enough of this has washed off to do my people justice. I … am, a cautionary tale made flesh, a last song for too many fallen."

He closes his eyes, then continues:

"In days before these, when my skin still felt a brighter sun, I was Fostern. Days where wisps of winds dancing between tree branches, and I was teaching the youth how to do the same. Toby had an eye for law that would astound a half moon elder, and a sense of humor so wicked, Coyote spoke his name with a smile. T'pal a young adult the size of a child, held more rage within him than most can imagine. Chooses the Largest Beast was a lupus cub I would have followed, claws bared into the mouth of the Wyrm itself, knowing we'd rip ourselves out of its belly victorious …

They, and too many more to mention in one small story all lived at the Sept of Hidden Willows, a place protected from detection by powerful rites and crafty spirits. It was a place where tacticians debated minutia, where powerful packs were the norm, where none of those packs spoke with one another.

Our Alpha, both powerful and wise knew much of the enemy and with his pack "The War Council" devised ways to destroy our enemies. Each pack excelled in one thing or another and all moved like chess pieces across board.

But as I stand here like a spirit, a memory given shape, things didn't end well. Insane and crafty, the Wyrm showed different sides to different packs, each doing what made most sense. Each, chasing the Alpha's vision, each, constructing a trap the Wyrm could never have built alone.

When my cousin in dream finally helped my mind piece together what was going on, how a sept at piece, but still divided was used against itself, I awoke to screams. My hispo legs were too slow to reach the cabin where the cubs stayed. Green flames licked its walls. Chooses' head was cast off to the side like refuse, crumpled and broken.

The next think I remember seeing was our Alpha. He was the one that pulled me out of my rage and pushed me towards the moonbridge. "The Sept of Hidden Willows has fallen," he said. "Bring our tale to our sister sept, so that we may be avenged."

With this, I saw behind him that all the beasts I killed were but a handful of what had run us over. I was the closest to the moonbridge. The Alpha's wounds were already killing him. I took his words to our neighbors and closed the door behind me."

He pauses for a second, before looking up, Wendigo makeup stained with tears and continues:

"Hidden Willows was a place were Garou were quickly becoming legends. Those I shared a home with will forever dance in the clouds above me, asking if I can touch the tales of the stories Galliards should have sung about them in coming years. But they knew … and in this hubris … in our hubris …

… we forgot to be one Sept and thus our Caern was lost. We forgot that we were one people and died as individual packs. Every cloud, every star, every blade of grass holds the face of Garou or kin I've lost there. All of them have begged me for this moment. All of them have begged me for voice."

After this Willow's will shift to Homid, wiping his face as he sits, waiting to hear the next tale.

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