Greetings. Here's the next chapter (ooooh, chapter 13, ooooh) It was actually fairly easy to proof so I'm going to make a vow or two and promise to get the next chapter up by Saturday of next week (the 19th) Why do I do this? Mostly so Tremere will get off my back about wanting some violence. No, there isn't really any in this chapter, it's a bit more build-up. However we do get to meet the evil Master for a little face to face confrontation and also explore the intended plans for Syntax. (plus the moving love story between Endelon and the myterious warrior woman is given some more time. Awww, love in the Hive warrens, how *sweet*. In retrospect (though they are fun to write) if I was ever to do this again I might just axe the faerie stuff. They do serve a few important points in the story, but overall are mostly filler. Still, it's Fan Fiction.Net so as long as I'm posting and being hosted for free I suppose I can get away with any crazy faerie extra stuff I opt to stick in.

Jinroh: By the by, man. I'd just like to take some time to thank you for your reviews and all the time you've spent reading my stuff. Usually I'm able to respond kindly to reviewers in e-mails, but you have none. Therefore, thanks for the reviews and for the time, they really mean a lot to me.

Robert R.: Mostly the same song and dance as for Jinroh. I hope you're with us long enough for me to finish this monster. I'm trying to force myself to a scheduale again (y'know, I really *used* to be good about updates. Then that accursed thing known as life just got in the way...) I'm really looking forward to your 'real' review at the end and hope you enjoy the journey of getting there.

So, I hope you all enjoy this chapter, plus that you tune in for the next one. And why would you want to do this? Well...the true nature of the mystery woman is revealed! And so is the main bad guy! Ooooh, and I also reveal the long-awaited name of the ronin! Plus we get to find out who the traitor of the tribes is as one of the companions shows their true nature! All this and free peanuts! Well....maybe not the peanuts, those can be expensive to get the good kind. Anyways, that's enough of my hot air; onto the story!

Fall of the Heroes: A Tale of Detroit

Chapter 13: Storming the Tunnels

The sun was slowly sinking down below the horizon, the last rays washing the sky with deep shades of umber and crimson. There were almost no clouds, leaving the bright spray of color uninterrupted as the deep red bled across the sky. The sounds of the forest had grown quiet, the animals slowly withdrawing to their homes for safety. Within the Raging Falls caern, though, quietude had not taken hold. The lights of the council lodge burned brightly as voices argued from within. Voices raised in anger and frustration.

Jo sat alone on the stump of a tree that had been chopped down. Her hands were buried in the pockets of her jacket as she drew it in around herself. Her legs idly swung back and forth, the heels of her boots thumping rhythmically on the side of the stump. She watched the crimson sky with a dark expression. She saw not just the reddening of the evening. She saw images in that sky.

Faces screaming in pain, their blood flowing out of them to drench the air in ruby washes of gore. She watched the moon itself, now visible in the dimming light of day, take on that scarlet and sanguine hue. She watched it shed tears of blood, three bright tears that slowly sank into the coming darkness of night.

They should have been here by now! Jo jumped at the sudden voice from behind her. She realized she had drifted off into one of the strange visions that were the birthright of her people. Warnings and portents were ever visible to a Corax. She frowned as she looked up at the sky, now seeming once again normal. She considered the signs she had seen, they did not bode well. What is keeping that fool pup?

Jo considered the three tears of blood dripping downward. Was it three heroes descending, or three deaths. And since there were four of her friends out there, which one didn't have a tear, and why? Was it the ronin, still separating himself from the pack? She sighed and closed her eyes, lost in thought as she tried to figure out what it could mean. The drops descended, she wondered if that meant

Jo turned around to look over her shoulder. Dominic stood behind her, his face dark and cloaked in the long shadows of the trees overhead. He scowled at her as he walked closer.

I asked how you were doing, and got no reply. Are you well? You look troubled.

Shouldn't you still be in council discussing things? Dominic's face seemed to grow even graver. He folded his arms over his chest and stepped over to stand at her side. The crimson light of the sky fell over him, catching in ruby highlights upon the silvered hair at his temples and in his beard. His face looked worn and defeated. Jo hadn't seen the proud Shadow Lord's spirit so painfully ground down since the Night of the Kinslayings when he had hunted and slain the Glass Walkers of the city. She nodded in understanding, realizing what troubled him so. They're still talking about it, huh?

snarled Dominic. Marn questions the truth of my claims. The others are horrified that we abandoned Moros' body to the Dancers. They wonder if this is a worthy cause. They fear it a trap. They question me again, and then continue to debate

Charlie and the others went to do something about it, muttered Jo as she turned back to look up at the red sky. She remembered again the three red tears slipping down into the darkness. They're going to go down into The Pit and try to stop things all by themselvesand they will fail.

Are you sure? Jo glared back at him. Dominic nodded. Ah, the visions He frowned and lowered his head. His voice becoming ragged and sounding saddened. I would that I could go with you. Jo cocked an eyebrow at him, but then nodded in understanding. Dominic had guessed her actions correctly, he knew her too well. The others were going into danger. She was planning to go, she had to go. Had to try and help them. Dominic snarled and nodded back towards the lodge. But someone must try and be responsible. My days of rushing off unprepared for battle are long past. I am supposed to be wiser now.

If not happier, smirked Jo as she hopped off the stump. But don't worry about it, I'd be a heck of a lot happier if you came storming after us with a dozen packs of snarling Garou at your heels. Her face grew serious then as she sighed softly. I think we're going to need them.

added Dominic with a barely perceptible grin. He patted her shoulder and nodded to her. Jo nodded back as she turned and hopped off the stump.

She started away, but spared one last look over her shoulder at him. He nodded her on, his face grim and helpless. She started sprinting down the path. As she ran her body melted away into the inky black shape of a raven. She flapped rapidly as she rose into the blood red sky and sailed back towards Detroit. Dominic watched her go, his face grim and worried.

Gaia be with you Josephine, he whispered, Gaia be with us all.


A storm was coming, of this he was certain. Cruss stood within the grove that the childlings played in when allowed out of the freehold and wishing to use their faerie powers at play. Cruss was not so old that he couldn't recall how he himself had come here to play too. Whenever he had slipped away from his aides and tutors he would come here to just exist for a few moments as a being without worries.

Such times were long gone now. He stood in the center of the glade. The blue silk of his tunic ruffling around him. His black cloak snapped in the breeze, appearing like some angry beast pulling at its tether as it fought for freedom. The sky above him was dark, dark and stormy. Snow billowed and swirled about his legs. Kicked up from the ground in spurting gusts. He waited alone in the grove, wondering where Puck was.

It had been a comedy of errors since he had allowed her to pursue the Black Spiral Dancers. First off, it had been insane for her to go. One lone faerie was no match for even a relatively inexperienced Spiral, and for her to track down a huge packit was almost a death sentence. He again wondered if he would even see her again. Despite his own personal feelings about her he didn't really wish any harm to her. Next came the problems at court. For once he had found himself arguing against his own colleagues as he had tried to convince the other nobles that it was imperative that they take some sort of action, and for once his supposed friends didn't support his plans.

Are you mad? Lord Bryis Gwydion had snarled. We are to rush off and aid the Werewolves in some mad battle against the Spirals in the very center of their black power? Are we to rush in with glittering armor and assault the dark fortress of some ancient god? I realize you are young and eager, but trust me Juvariel, sometimes it takes more consideration then action to win a war.

Cruss had felt his blood boil at Byris using his first name in court. It was as though to deny Cruss' title and relegate him to commoner standards. Around Byris, Cruss watched as men he had once considered his allies glanced away from him. Men who had spoken with him warmly as they discussed battle tactics and taking a more active stance in the wars of Detroit. Where now were their fine speeches? Where now was their bravery?

The House of Fiona has long held the wolves close to our heart, said Lady Willowquisp. Her breathtakingly beautiful face looked around slowly at the others. Her eyes that seemed to be living pools of water paused as she looked at each person there. Her soft as crushed rose petal lips pursed slightly as she finally shook her delicate head. But they are built for war, as we are built for beauty. This is not our battle, nor should it be.

Beauty can be a terrible thing, especially when angered, countered Cruss angrily. He had stood up and pounded the table loudly. Even the trickster Puck recognized the danger. Perhaps I am not to convince you by leaping atop this table and playing with toys, but it does not change the threat! Our shield has gone forth and found it is not defendingtiddlywinks from bouncing balls. But rather attempting to stop the balls from releasing a raging fire that shall destroy not only the shield, but everything about, above, and below it!

From her seat Cruss had seen Ayloshia smile slightly. He had felt a flush of hope then, surely if The Lady cast her support for this venture then the others would follow. He knew she was not one to endorse war. Indeed he had spent much of his time at council angered at her apparent weakness and foolishness. Of course that was what worried him. What if she opposed his suggestion simply to spite a longtime rival?

You are foolish, young one, grumbled Lord Uber of House Dougal. His deep voice sighed darkly. A fire is a wild thing, how can we be sure by blowing on it we can put it out? Perhaps you will simply make it more wild and thus more likely to destroy you as well.

Bulls to that! The sneering voice belonged to Lady Panegyric, the Nocker. Cruss had never much cared for her himself. She had the strange pasty complexion and swirling red cheeked face of other Nockers. And most assuredly possessed the bile filled tongue of her kith. However to top it all off she was not sidhe, she was a commoner who by dint and dumb luck had risen to the position of noble. Normally he was used to her opposing his motions, however now he was surprised to hear her scathing remarks attempting to support him. You can twist an analogy all ya want! Don't make the original friggin' point any less pointful! I would have thought you good at noticing the point in things after all, just look at that pointy head you got to use as a radar.

Lord Uber is far wiser then you shall ever be, said Lord Byris Gwyndion with a smirk as he turned his cold gaze to the Nocker. Perhaps, since your House will undoubtedly fail yet again to provide any real help, you should not even be allowed to speak.

Bite me, Byris, sneered Lady Panegyric as she made a very unladylike gesture. Lady Willowquisp flushed slightly in embarrassment, as some of the younger lords rose to their feet and scowled at the Nocker.

You insufferable twit, snarled Lord Byris. Did that mud you grow up within clog your brain? Would you have us march into the very jaws of death?

Would you have us sit back and wait for the jaws to come and claim us, retorted Cruss loudly as he slammed his hand on the table again. If so I say you are fools all!

The Lady has heard thy arguments, said Arienkel stoutly. His voice silencing the growing murmurs of the other members of the council. Cruss looked over in agitation at the court vizier, almost angered further by the attempt to restore order. But Arienkel's face was calm and stern, it held no expression but one of mild disdain for the loud yelling of the children. He peered pointedly at Cruss, who, embarrassed, slowly returned to his own seat. Arienkel nodded and glanced at Ayloshia. My Lady, what is thy will?

My will? Ayloshia's face shifted into another slight smile. The very mood of the room transformed to seem brighter for one passing moment at The Lady's amusement. Then just as quickly it darkened again, going almost shadowy and uncertain. In matters of war it is not my will that matters, it is the will of the people who will die. Cruss felt his teeth grinding together, he had heard these words far too often to have any doubt what was coming next. I have never ordered anyone to their death, and pray that I shall never have to. This is the Autumn of our existence, we seem to be a dying race. Is it our prerogative to seek out such conflicts like we used to do in the past? Or is our primary goal to seek to continue to hide and attempt to grow once more in power?

She looked at him then. Cruss had felt her eyes digging deeply into his own. The golden orbs gleamed with an inner light. The members of council slowly glanced at one another. Yet Cruss' gaze was frozen with Ayloshia's own. She smiled softly at him then, but it was a smile of confidence and support. He wondered what it could mean? After all, she had just crushed his position, and probably abandoned Puck should anything go wrong for the pooka.

All those who vote nay to the possibility of the attack, signify now, said Arienkel as he looked over the council. He struck the floor with his staff as he spoke a name for each hand raised. The hollow ringing seeming to Cruss to be the death knell of the city. Lord Gwyndion votes nay, Lord Uber votes nay, Lord Farntal votes nay, Lord Everflame votes nay. Lady apEliund votes nay.

I vote aye, snarled Cruss sharply as he raised his hand, glaring sharply at those who had voted for inaction.

Lord Cruss votes aye, said Arienkel softly as he spun his staff about and struck the other end, a soft humming note of calm emitting from it for each vote. Lady Panegyric votes aye, Lord DuLac votes aye. Arienkel stopped the beats, the last note fell silent far too quickly. Lady Willowquisp abstains. He turned to Ayloshia. Five nays to three ayes, with one abstention. The council seeks to avoid this battle. Ayloshia's silver hair danced slightly about her face as she continued to look at Cruss.

Then let it be known the council does not wish war.

He had glared at her then, his bright eyes narrowed in hatred of her cowardice and weakness. Ayloshia had watched him as he sat there and glared. The others slowly filed out of the room, leaving him alone in his anger. Ayloshia had damned them all, he would have to stay back and allow the Spirals to complete their evil for to act against them now would be to break the word of the council. She had risen slowly and taken a gentle step towards him. Her lips lifted in a gentle and sad smile, her eyes filled with apology. She had spoken then, her voice soft and mystical, a gentle caress of cool mist against his raging hot skin.

Tell me Lord Juvariel Cruss, do you ever find yourself displeased with the position you are forced to hold. How you must stand and speak only as your House wishes it and perhaps not as your heart does? She bowed slightly to him. Thus is how I must act, yet I must act for all the Houses at once, and all other fae of this city. Is my title truly an honor, or is it a prison?

It is a prison if you so choose to make it, he had snarled as he rose and stormed out. I go to retrieve Puck and then to wait for this dark creature to come for us as we all cower here and do nothing.

A burst of lightning snapped him out of his memories, a distant rumble of thunder echoed off in the distance. It was as though the very elements themselves sensed the growing danger and were attempting to warn everyone else. He lowered his face as he scowled, locks of his golden hair whipped about him as the wind gusted again. His cape snapped in the wind as more leaves cascaded past.

Hey! JC! How's it going? Where's the army? I can't help but notice a distinct lack of an army hanging around youdid you start telling jokes and scare them off? He glanced up at the small figure that sprang out of the woods and bounded up towards him. Puck skidded to a stop amidst a swirl of leaves and brightly colored clothes flapping about her thin frame. She grinned up at him, though already her eyes were starting to look grim. Where's the army?

Ayloshia wouldn't send one. The council voted not to get involved.

She couldn't send an army, you said she wouldn't. If she wouldn't send an army she wouldn't have asked the council to consider the request. She really wanted to be able to help. Now I guess she's stuck trying to build some defenses in the city itself.

Cruss blinked at Puck's logic, he frowned, but as he considered her words they began to prove rather insightful. It was true that she hadn't needed to talk to the council on every issue, but was her mere discussion of an issue proof that she supported it? She certainly hadn't seemed to argue for any action against the Spirals unless In that instant Cruss suddenly knew, he knew what Ayloshia had been telling him and the council the entire time. Each and every time he had argued for action against some threat in the past she had acted the same. It had been in her words all along.

Should we seek out such conflicts like we used to in the past?'

Fae tales of great heroes who preserved the Dreaming and protected the mortals, these were the stuff of legend to the fae. Cruss himself had ever loved to hear them, and had always wished that he had been born then, back when he could make a difference. He looked down at Puck, his face suddenly going dead serious.

I'm going to have to do something, he finally said. I have to do something.

Run away?

Somebody has to disrupt their plans, buy the city more time to prepare.

Prepare what?

A defense.

De fence around my house is already done.

I was offering to help you, you'll need all the help you can get.

Cruss looked at her doubtfully. Puck promptly struck a few martial arts poses. He sighed and nodded, realizing she probably was the only help he was likely to get. Also, she had already bested a few Spirals in combat, even if it was only by trickery. Could he really find any better help in such a short span of time? Besides, she was the one with the information he needed most.

Did you find their lair?

I don't think they play lyres.

Cruss' hand shot out and grabbed her shirt. Somebody needs to do something, anything, to slow them down and buy Ayloshia time to gather the nobles together into some sort of plan to protect the city from whatever it is the Spirals are going to do. If we're going to do something about it, you need to tell me about their lair!

It's gray.

you didn't mean hair, did you


This then, is the great Pit of the Wyrm? Robert Sands asked the question quietly as he stepped forth into that most revered of caerns. Endelon idly toyed with the idea of executing the fomorian worm then and there, however he knew that the man had been instrumental in arranging for the ritual, and thus he didn't strike. He felt a slim, cool hand slip around his arm and glanced over. She was next to him, her white hair billowing about her face in a magical dance. He looked into her eyes and knew that she too felt the urge to kill. They shared a cold and silent smile with each other. drawled Sands, I expected more from it.

His words echoed with the strength of their blasphemy against the vaulted ceiling of the immense natural cavern. The sounds ringing off the vast stone pillars and walkways of the chamber. At the head of the procession, the victory procession, Fer-guath spun about. His heavy robes billowed around him. The amulets and trinkets woven onto his sparse gray fur clacked together in an eerie panoply of anger. His single green eye gleamed brightly from under his hood, his skeletally clawed hand clutched tightly at his staff. Below him the faint green glow of the birthing pits seemed to throb in anger, casting a sickening glow over the assembled Black Spirals and the fomori that escorted Sands.

You speak words that bring you ever nearer to death, ape-spawn. Fer-guath's voice was a hollow hiss, full of threat and menace. Around him it seemed as though the air shimmered with an angry heat rising off of him, but Endelon knew well it was the eager thrashings of the dark spirits bound to the theurge. You have been allowed here as a guest. Do not think that you are needed for the ritual.

Watch your own words, half-breed, sneered Sands as he crossed his arms. His handsome and debonair features twisting into an unhealthy sneering mask underlit by the flickering green glow of the pits. I am no less a loyal servant of the master then you are. Though I serve him by choice, rather then by being born into a deluded pseudo-religion.

A deadly quiet fell across the gathering. The disheveled shapes of the Black Spirals drew in around their leader. A few, in lupus form, snarled low in their throats as they eyed the fools who insulted them in the center of their own power. Kendar stood at the front of the line, a snarling smile on his face as he puffed on his cigar and glared with hungry yellow eyes towards Sands. Next to him Gorefist grinned wickedly, the smile twisting the scarred half of her face into a horrid visage.

Robert Sands stood resolutely as his own men drew in about him. A collection of black suited men drew in close, their eyes alert and ready for danger. Nearby lurked a trio of the silent Sweepers. The psychic assassins silently waiting for the sign to attack. A solid row of black uniformed soldiers formed a defensive line in front of Sands. Guns gripped in their black gloved hands, the green lights of The Pit reflecting off the polished faceplates of their helmets. Mr. Kay stood tall and stern in front of them, watching the assembled wolves with a cold and steady gaze.

Endelon hadn't moved from his own position off to the side. One of his clawed hands gripped the shackles of the captive tightly, the weakened Glass Walker stood weakly in front of him in her battered human form. Next to him waited her, his fellow warrior. Her bright eyes danced with eager glee as she watched the two sides face off. Her hand tightened on his arm in excitement as she smiled. He felt the hungry pulse of his blades from under his black cloak. His cold blue eyes watched everything carefully.

Sands, you shall bare your neck before Fer-guath, or I shall rip it apart and claim your head. Kendar spoke deeply and slowly, his tone and posture suggesting he was unimpressed by the possible threat of the fomori agents that Sands commanded. Next to him Gorefist grinned wider, running her tongue over her teeth as she looked at the men before her.

Oh yes, sneered Sands, I suppose that's why you're called the head collector, eh? No, I shall not yield. You dogs owe me for doing your work and putting up with you butchering some of my men. Sands straightened his tie, his eyes dark and angry as he looked over the whole of the Spiral tribe. I have served the master as well, if not better then you. I am deserving of as much honor as that wretched witch-doctor.

Foolish monkey, sneered Flea-bitten, second most powerful theurge of the tribe. His wild gray hair seemed to flutter slightly as a few words growled under his breath brought forth the silent readiness of his own dark spirits. You should know there is much in this world you fail to understand.

Stinkface and his pack pressed up near Kendar, eagerly supporting the war leader. Stinkface's mouth split open, drool gushing out around his massive fangs as he snarled at the fomori. Crouched in front of him the twin dark shapes of Treeshaker and Rockcrusher grinned wickedly as they clacked their claws together eagerly. Pugdog moved up next to Stinkface, the older warrior supporting his pack leader willingly, his stance ready for battle.

Children, children, children. Please do stop this bickering.

The voice was little more then a whisper, but it cast a chill of dread across the faces of all of those present. They turned as two figures appeared within the shattered ruins of the Maw temple on the far side of the cavern. One was a stooped figure in tattered black rags. Wild black hair sprouting from his head and chin framed the madly gleaming eyes that seemed to be aware of nothing and everything at once. His body was coated in old scars and strange runic symbols that almost looked as though they shifted subtly, as though alive and aware. He grinned wickedly, his fingers nervously twittering together as he whispered something to the figure next to him. This second, shadowy figure, looked with mild amusement at the two groups facing off on the walkways.

Endelon watched the two shapes with a mixed sense of awe and surprise. The Mage had always been here, and didn't impress the Master Assassin at all. However the second shapeit was The Master, the force that had planned out the retrieval of the Dark Crystal, and the return of full power to The Pit. Never before had the enigmatic force deemed fit to reveal itself to any but its most senior of agents. Yet here it was, standing quietly before them. Endelon knew then that this was indeed the final step of the plan. Soon, very soon, the great Tyranthraxus would be freed from his prison and the city above them would be corrupted and fall to the powers of the Wyrm.

My dear Fer-guath, show Robert some respect, without him we would have never gained the resources needed for this ritual. Mr. Sands grinned victoriously at the hunched shape of Fer-guath. And Robert? Please be silent about things your simple mind knows nothing about.

Robert Sands' face fell as he turned to look in shock at the shadowed form of The Master. The assembled Black Spiral Dancers sneered and chortled at the monkey being put in his place. The Master started walking slowly across one of the great stone walkways that arched above the deep pools of primordial green ooze below them. His movements were smooth and easy, the movements of a warrior. The Mage skittered along behind him, his beady mad eyes wavering about as he gibbered away in some mad tongue. The Master obviously understood him, for occasionally he would whisper replies.

As the pair approached Fer-guath bowed deeply to them, following suit so did the rest of the tribe. The fomori looked uncertain, but something about the approaching shape made them drop to one knee and bow their heads to it. Robert Sands shifted uneasily, but he too bowed in respect to his master.

Endelon, however, did not. Perhaps it was because he had a hold of the prisoner, and didn't want to give her even the slightest chance of escape. Perhaps it was because he didn't bow to any member of his tribe, being too proud of his own prowess to accept another as his superior. Or perhaps it was the soft and sure grip of her on his arm as she smiled at The Master, her hazel eyes gleaming eagerly as she stood tall and waited for him to approach.

Take her to the chamber, said The Master to The Mage as he nodded towards the slumped and beaten form of the Garou. He then looked up at the white haired goddess who stood ready and alert. Are you sure she is a theurge, a powerful one?

The she-bitch stinks of Gaia's touch, she replied in her light and musical voice. She will serve as the perfect vessel for the return.

Yes, powerful, good, yes. The Mage giggled excitedly as he sniffed at Syntax's hair. Endelon motioned his head slightly towards Stinkface, and the pup and his pack lumbered forward to help The Mage move his captive. The maddened sorcerer waved for the Dancers to bring the prisoner with them as he turned and started off along a upward rising walkway that twisted and writhed up towards the ceiling far above until disappearing into a dark crevice in the wall.

You have done well, my dear. The Master's hand reached out, thin fingers lightly brushing through her wild mane of white hair and down her delicate and fragile seeming face. Soon you shall receive your reward. She grinned at him, her lips parting to reveal bright white teeth. The master turned to glance at Fer-guath. What of Dominic and the others?

Fer-guath shook his head slowly, his green eye glinting nervously as he looked at his lord. managed to escape my packs. But, he quickly cut in, they are running weak and frightened. My sources tell me that both he who rends the darkness and the bird are at the caern. They are foolish enough to think the tribes will help them now!

The Master slowly moved closer to Fer-guath. His hands flexing as they slowly transformed into the blackened claws of a werewolf. What of the others? What does your spy there tell you?

Fer-guath meekly ducked his head as he hissed the words. The last I heard, they seemed to be planning to come and disrupt the ritual. But I don't see how-

The voice of The Master seemed to grow incredibly louder, causing all those nearby to falter back from the sheer force of it. In the same instant The Master's hand lashed out, striking Fer-guath hard across the face and casting the frightful theurge to the ground. Do you think them so inconsequential?! My old friend, Slash is not to be underestimated! Nor are any who travel with him!

Perhaps my men should set up a security perimeter, offered Sands suddenly, grinning smartly as he attempted to further demean Fer-guath's position. However The Master simply spun on him, eyes pulsing a fiery orange-green.

You diseased monkey shit, don't you dare suggest that you can even understand what needs be done! Sands fell back, silent and white-faced. The Master snarled as he drew himself up to his full height. I will prepare the temple's defenses. Fer-guath, you shall prepare for the ritual. I want it ready to begin as soon as possible. Go! So saying, The Master seemed to blink out of existence.

Endelon watched Fer-guath stagger to his feet and quickly gather his fellow theurges to him as he rushed towards the temple of the Maw. Sands and his fomorian cronies slunk off into the shadows. Kendar bowed to The Master as he and the other Dancers started to prepare to defend the temple. Endelon slowly turned away and started walking back into the tunnels. He felt a light hand on his shoulder and a whispered question near his ear.

And where is the great Endelon going, hmmm?

The Master said there were Garou in the tunnels. He glanced over at the petite and delicate killing machine next to him. Her floral dress shifted slightly in a subtle breeze as she pressed up near to him. I am going to hunt them down and kill them before they ever get here.

She smiled. Let me come too, I hunger for blood.

They shared another cold and emotionless smile, their deadly eyes glimmering. Endelon knew that for the first time ever, he had found someone like himself. And together they were going to slay anyone who got in their way. The disappeared into the darkness.


The flashlight flicked on, splitting the darkness in a beam of light. The beam glinting over the scorched rubble and ruined equipment. Thick boots clumped over the burnt and ashen remains. Little gray clouds of ash puffed up around each step. Charred and splintered boards still stuck proudly and mournfully up into the air. Looking like nothing less then trees after a fire. The melted cables that lay in pathetically strangled clumps were like the blackened vines that had fallen off the trees as they had lost their leaves and branches.

The small figure stood alone amongst the destruction, and felt saddened to see it. The place had been something of a home for her, at least at such times as she had stayed there. So many deaths to build the place, and almost as many to defend it. Including her friend. She lowered her head, feeling a momentary pang of grief. But then dark eyes narrowed, and thoughts of grief were pushed aside. The world needed saving again, and darnit, that meant it needed her.

The searching beam of the flashlight paused as it spotted what it was looking for. Small, thin lips quirked upwards in a smirk as she approached the back wall of the gutted and burnt building. Pale, thin fingers reached out and probed along the floor, brushing aside ash and other debris as she searched for the small latch. Finally she found it, and gave it a few turns. Carefully twisting it one way, and then the other, unlocking the security combo. Finally, with a small click and a smooth hiss of hydraulics, the panel slid aside.

Just like a jungle, even after the fire there are the signs of buried life. She grinned as her face became washed in a bright glow from the computers hidden within the basement, safe from the fire. One of the screens flickered and a gleaming blue spider formed upon it. The sharp lines of the spider shone like cut crystal as it turned towards her.

Statement: Systems have suffered a ninety percent cut in capabilities. Conclusion: The Black Spiral Dancer attack has proved very costly. Statement: You are Josephine Corven, my friends call me Jo. Syntax has you listed as an acceptable user. Query: How may I be of service?

Hiya, Blue Storm, said Jo as she smiled at the spider. I know that Syntax burned up a lot of her own energies when helping form your body. One could almost say there was a lot of you in her or vise versa tell me, how portable are you? Literally, that is.


Lightning cracked through the sky overhead. A breeze whistled through the leaves, shaking the branches and causing the limbs of the forest to bend and quiver. Charlie glanced up at the sky and frowned. Black clouds were gathering. The black clouds of a storm. The thunderheads rolled forward, their billowing black masses roiling with the power that lurked within them. Sharp bursts of light seemed to arc and dance from one black beast to the next. Gaia's fury made manifest.

The air feels angry, growled Leona as she shifted uneasily. Her tawny fur rippling in the strong gusts of wind. Her tail was held out stiffly behind her as she silently trailed alongside Charlie. Her padded footsteps making little sound as she walked through the thick layers of snow that coated the forest floor. Something has upset Gaia. She shows her displeasure.

Charlie couldn't find it within himself to try to suggest that Leona's thoughts were anything but the truth. He felt it himself, an electric tang in the air that was more then just lightning. Something was starting tonight from which there could be no turning back. He looked ahead at the ronin and Snapback as the pair worked at clearing away a large mound of rubble and rock. The ronin had said that here was the place where the last of the heroes had escaped the tunnels, and here too was the place they would enter.

I found something, grunted Snapback as he pulled away a large flat rock. Inscribed upon it was a large rune. Charlie recognized it as an ancient form of Garou writing. The rune had one meaning. Danger.

It's the final warning, said the ronin softly as he reached over and pulled back another rock. Underneath could now be seen a sloping dark passage. It may be a little tight, but in lupus form it's not bad.

Snapback snarled slightly, his lips curling back as he looked over. We are to crawl in, like dogs?

You can stay behind if the indignity is too much to bear, sighed the ronin as he knelt in front of the hole. Charlie walked up and rested a hand reassuringly on Snapback's shoulder to cut off any hot-headed retort from the metis. I'll go first, said the ronin as he eyed the hole. You others shall follow behind once I make sure the coast is clear. Try not to talk too loudly or upset anything. The Spirals will be on high alert during the ritual. They are too close to victory to afford any mistakes nowjust as we are too close to defeat.

So saying he closed his eyes in concentration. His clothes seemed to blend into the thick red fur that sprouted over his body. The wild, long, and shaggy hair on his head remained so in his wolf form, almost appearing like a lion's mane. The red furred and scar covered wolf growled softly as it eased forward and slipped down the hole into the impenetrable darkness beyond.

Can we really trust him? Snapback asked the question sharply and suddenly, his hunched shoulders tensing as he scowled at the hole the ronin had disappeared through. He nearly slew all of his own pack the first time he went into those tunnels. How are we to know that we are not next?

I'm not sure I trust him either, growled Leona softly, her ears falling back against her head as her tail flicked nervously. He kill two of his own pack. He is nameless, a forgotten wolf. He is without honor.

Dominic doubted him, grunted Snapback as he looked down at Charlie. He called him urrah, he called him tainted by Wyrm. He is leading us to our deaths, if not by his hands then those of the Spirals.

And what would you have us do, asked Charlie as he matched Snapback's stare. Would you have us flee back to the caern? Perhaps just wait and see if the Spirals really can release one of the most powerful servants of the Wyrm?

Leona shook her head, perhaps this is foolish. We are not the great heroes, we are just three pups in over their heads. There is no shame in turning back. Snapback is right; all that awaits us down hole is death.

There is no need to be a hero, snarled Snapback.

I think you're right, allowed Charlie with a small nod. And that's why I'm not trying to force you to come. But, he looked at them, his eyes gleaming brightly. Dominic once told me that a hero was a dream, that they didn't exist. All that existed were people who did what needed to be done, and those who didn't. Slowing this ritual for even a few minutes is something that needs to be done. And I'm going to go do it.

From below came the call of the ronin, telling them it was all clear. Charlie looked at the others, and then turned and shifted to lupus as he made his way down the shaft. With a muttered snarl, Snapback followed. Leona shifted nervously, and glanced one last time up at the storm cloud coated sky. She breathed in the fresh air, and the turned and followed the others in.


You are going to die.

That would seem to be the logical end of this situation.

Stinkface glowered at the prisoner as he stood guard over the room she was being held in. It was a large, circular chamber. The floor had been carved and chipped away at until a wild spiraling design had been carved into it. Lurking around the only way in and out, him and his pack were the chosen guards for the prisoner; the Gaian Garou. Stinkface sneered at her, he and his pack had destroyed her lair and helped take her hostage. It didn't please him that she wasn't showing him the proper amount of respect.

In truth, she seemed to be taking the whole affair far too calmly. She lay upon the floor, a black rag tied about her eyes, and her hands and feet bound in silver manacles that prevented her from shifting. No concern was given about her ability to control spirits, as within this place there would be precious few friendly spirits to a technology theurge. Her slick black body suit was torn and ripped in a few places, revealing patches of bare skin and a few dried bloodstains. Yet still she lay there, calm and composed.

Can't we just cut her up a bit to make her be quiet? Treeshaker shifted unhappily, stretching herself languidly as her black eyes glared at the captive. Her twin brother lay curled up next to her, the two both in their human forms, yet so dingy and dirty as to appear more like living shadows. Tick giggled at their suggestion, the pale faced man nodding in agreement.

grunted Stinkface, we're guarding her. No one touches her. No one.

Aw, c'mon, snarled Quggis. The ragged bum rose to his feet, a wide grin of yellowed teeth appearing from within his shaggy black beard. I'll treat her real nice.

Shut up you idiot. Pugdog's hand swung out and backhanded Quiggis to the ground. The others fell silent at the veteran's cold stare. Stinkface is pack alpha, you do as he says. Pugdog nodded towards Stinkface, who nodded back. He had been surprised with the loyalty that Pugdog now seemed to show him, but he supposed the older wolf was fully accepting his defeat at Stinkface's hands. He'd just have to be careful not to show any future weakness that might make the skilled warrior decide a rematch was in order.

Excuse me, came a slimy human voice, but I hope I'm not intruding overmuch.

Stinkface looked up with a snort as he spotted the suit wearing monkey step into view. Robert Sands grinned in that easy and confident manner of his as he stepped forward slowly and with some degree of respect. Treeshaker hissed, covering her bare chest as she shifted into her crinos form, red glowing eyes glaring at the worm. Her brother only sighed and hugged himself to her, running his hands along her flanks as he too watched the human.

You must be the one they call Stinkface, I have heard much of you.

Stinkface's brow furrowed in curiosity at this odd comment. The monkey slug had heard of him? He glanced over at Treeshaker, she still glared with distrustful hatred at the human. Obviously not forgetting how he had treated Fer-guath and disrespected the Pit. He then glanced at Pugdog. The massive ahroun looked skeptically back at him and flicked his ears in a wolfish approximation of a shrug. Telling his leader he was unsure of Sands' intentions. Stinkface looked back, slowly shifting into his human form. His thin lips peeled back from jagged teeth as he grinned.

You have heard of me, eh?

But of course, Sands bowed slightly. Who has not heard tales of this young warrior who has faced Dominic, the render of darkness, in battle and survived? Who after only his first few hunts even now commands his own pack? Who has earned the respectand perhaps even the fear of the great Kendar, collector of heads.

This monkey stinks of trouble, snarled Treeshaker as she stood up and pressed herself slightly against Stinkface. She ran her hands possessively over his chest as she hissed in his ear. Speaking the language of wolves so that Sands wouldn't understand her words. He is trying to use you for something, I wouldn't trust him. He knows The Master no longer favors him.

That is true, snarled Pugdog, also speaking in the wolf tongue. But in desperation comes opportunity. Perhaps it is to your benefit to listen.

What do you want, monkey? Snapback sneered the slur loudly, making sure that the ape knew its place in this discussion. Sands only smiled, either not understanding, or not impressed by such acts.

I have heard that you are perhaps one of the best warriors to come out of this tribe in a long time. Off to the side Stinkface thought he heard Pugdog snort in disbelief. However, it was hard to ignore the feelings of pride that swelled through him at hearing someone acknowledge his greatness. I would like to think I could be of help to such a young up and comer. Sands smiled ingratiatingly.

What do you mean?

Well, Robert looked around, as though what he was about to say was a vast secret. I must admit that I have been impressed with you Black Spiral Dancers. he motioned at Stinkface and his pack. Just look at you, you're the perfect warriors and hunters. Fast, agile, tireless, deadly, mighty. I must say, you're far superior to any of the agents I have on staff. I mean, three of the regular Garou invaded and stormed about my base of operations without my guards able to do a damn thing about it. And you Dancers are supposed to be even stronger then them.

We are.

Yes, indeed. Robert placed his hands in his pockets as he cast his eyes admiringly over the assembled pack. I've decided to set up a group of, if you'll a-ha, pardon the pun, corporate wolves.

What the hell is this idiot talking about, grunted Pugdog.

He wants to make us work for him, hissed Treeshaker. She grinned wickedly. Do we get dental?

grunted Stinkface as he stepped forward and stood face to face with Sands. His eyes locked with the humans as he sniffed at the ape's scent. He grinned slightly, crooked sharp teeth grinding together. Tell me, ape, what would these corporate wolves' gain from working for you?

Why, there would be power, wealth, honor. And, offered Sands with a knowing grin, I would need one skilled and wise warrior to serve as the leader of the whole operation.

A war leader, breathed Stinkface with barely restrained excitement.

He only offers you what he knows you want to hear. It is a pathetic appeal to greed for power.

The curt, dry voice cut through his mind and jerked Stinkface back to reality. He spun around, yellowed eyes narrowing as he glared at the bound and blindfolded figure laying on the hard stone floor. She lifted one eyebrow slightly, almost as though she could sense him watching her.

joked Sands, it seems as though the esteemed guest of honor still has some spark left in her.

Step closer to me, Wyrm taint. It is within my powers to yet show you sparks.

A-ha-ha, somehow I don't think I'm interested in seeing them.

A reasonable decision, she allowed dryly.

What are you doing awake, eh bitch of Gaia? Quiggis shuffled forward and knelt a few paces from her. His cracked lips peeling back from yellowed teeth. You're gonna be needing all the rest you can get when the ritual starts.

agreed Sands with a smirk. The ritual. What is it supposed to do again, something about giving back the full power of The Master?

Returning power? Even behind the ragged black blindfold she wore, Stinkface could see her features contort in a look of incomprehension. He found himself grinning in amusement at her apparently lost calm. I thought the ritual was one of resurrection.

Stupid slug, sneered Quiggis as he spat a blob of gummy saliva into her face. She scowled in disgust, but made no other signs of caring about his action. Quiggis snarled at her, his hand suddenly lashing out as he punched her hard in the face, her head jerking back to knock soundly against the hard stone beneath her. Don't fuckin' look at me that way, bitch!

Stinkface sprang suddenly, his body transforming into his massive crinos war-form in mid-air. He slammed hard into Quiggis' back, tearing a quartet of bloody furrows in his back and tossing him hard against the far wall with a single claw swipe. Quiggis hissed in pain as he glared back at Stinkface. What did I tell you about touching her, Stinkface growled darkly. Quiggis quickly averted his eyes, and Snapback snorted in disgust. We guard the Gaia bitch, we don't touch her! Understand?

The other members of his pack nodded in understanding. Stinkface also noticed Robert Sands smiling and nodding in respect to him. He felt his chest jut out a bit more proudly as he sensed the praise. Then came that damned dry voice, still analyzing, and still calm, even after being struck.

But, if it is not a ritual of resurrection, then that would imply

That part of Tyranthraxus has already escaped the gem, and been among you all this time, chuckled a soft voice. They all turned to see The Master silently step out of a shadowed corner. Robert Sands went slightly pale, and slipped back a few steps. The others quickly bowed. However, the prisoner simply looked in the direction of the voice.

You have been here all along, ever since the Great Heroes descended into The Pit. Have not you?

Of course, my dear, of course. The Master smiled as he slowly walked towards her, his eyes agleam and eager as they traced over her lithe and supple body. Did you think the council decided to destroy your pack simply due to fear? I am Tyranthraxus, I am the Corrupter of Souls. As soon as those fools thought me dead, I found it ever so easy to bend them to my will.

This explains much, if it is to be believed, replied Syntax coldly. Though he couldn't see her eyes, Stinkface imagined they were burning with a hard and cold hatred. He shifted nervously, almost expecting this barely contained rage to overwhelm her and give her the power to break free and slay them all. Yet she did not, he relaxed, there was no escape for her.

Though I was amused by your pack's creation of a caern of technology, I'm afraid I was obligated to destroy it. You and your kind were trying to make too strong of a Gaian nest within the city. I couldn't run the risk that you'd have found me out, now could I? Syntax made no reply, her face hard as steel. continued The Master, I found it rather rewarding when I learned that you were the one they captured. It has a nice ring of finality and completion to it. Not only do I get to destroy the last of your pack The Master chuckled to himself as he knelt beside her. One of his hands reached out and brushed at her smooth white skin. She drew stiff, which only made him smile more. but then, as I possess your body I will destroy the council. You may think of it as getting revenge, if it makes you feel any better.

The ritual, she muttered softly, and now with a small trace of fear. It's not a sacrifice. You require a fresh host body within which to combine your current body and the new energies from the Crystal.

Yes, my dear, very perceptive of you. He brushed some of her wild black hair back from her face as he admired it. I do find that entering the body of a theurge works best. They are already so open to the tides and shifting of the spirit realms. It is really quite simple. The ritual is only needed to once more grant me my full power in one body. Your body.

You will be stopped.

Somehow I don't think so. The tribes aren't going to help. I have had too long to slowly poison and corrupt their minds against action. I'm afraid you are quite alone. Prepare yourself, my dear, the ritual will be ready soon enough. Then you and I can be one.

Almost as an afterthought The Master pulled down her blindfold, revealing her steel gray eyes. He grinned at her, though Stinkface didn't know why until he finally saw that icy mask of hers shatter. Her eyes grew wide, her jaw dropped open, she trembled in fear as she looked upon the face of The Master.

You? It cannot be.