The End of All Songs

Licking the wounds of Old

The Galliard steps forward as silence falls. Whispers take to the air in different languages, one thing in common; stories. “My first change was-” “I came from lands -” “My pack and I first gathered-” “We waited just as raven commanded-” It’s hare to focus on any one story as the galliard lays these pages whispering in his voice down. He stands with a smile looking at all who stand around, hands to his side.

“All Garou have a tale, all lands have whispers of their past.”

The whispers cease.

“Do you still hear them? The whispers of our brother and sisters? Just look about and see, you can still read these pages. You can still hear their history. For these scars that line our bodies are those tales. How well do we know each others songs?”

“Do we stand here Gets or silent striders? Silver Fangs or shadow lords? Are we the Harbingers or Seekers? Or Perhaps, are we Garou?”

Whispers Looks about for a reaction before taking a breath, shaking his head.

“Blinded we are by our hatred of the worm. Blinded and bitter. Deaf we are. Deaf and dumb. We cannot see the people! Only the shapes! We cannot hear the lesson, only the song. Where did we lose our power? Our Unification? Who here was there! Who slaughtered the bonds of the past that held us? Did we strike the final blow to each others pride?! Why do we continue to hate? Look beside you for once and see not auspice breed or tribe, but a warrior of Gaia.”

“We stand here on thrice damned lands not because of petty squabbles or licking the wounds of old. This land is born again because of our work with the brethren that took up banner with us. Those who came to the call of glory, those who felt honor bound to help restore a bit of gaia. Thos who bore the wisdom we needed to hear.”

“I have seen the love these garou bear for their mother. I have seen them do so much. We started with one spirit still holding to this land. Then before we knew it many were here to help. On the day this land woke once more, a Strider sacrificed himself to perform the ritual, and Mother’s Fury. A Get of Fenris pack fell. We are indeed Garou. We will die, do not however ignore those who stand beside you because of that. We have much to learn from the past. Hear the whisper of your brothers and sisters. Hear the cries of these undying lands. Thrice damned, much blood has been spilt on these lands, none has been ignored by gaia, nor should we then ignore that which runs through each other.”

“We are Strider, Silver Fangs, Gets, Red Talons, Shadow Lords, Wendigo, We are all these things. However we are also Garou. Let us be united, for with the end times upon us we cannot ignore the hand of our brethren due to pitiful pride. I have learned all this from the miracles I have seen.” *


The Concoliation hears the tale. Unity for unities sake as the world begins to fall apart around them. Begrudgingly the packs listens to the wisdom of Whisper’s of Forlorn Land’s tale.

Licking the wounds of Old

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