Epilogue: Remembrance

Puck's eyes opened with a flutter. The wide, multicolored eyes glanced about in surprise as she sat up slowly. Above her stood Arienkel, the sidhe sage frowning slightly. Kneeling in front of him was Ayloshia, The Lady smiled softly, her golden eyes gleaming. Puck stammered in surprise.

I'm not dead?

Such would seem to be the fate that has befallen us, grumbled Arienkel. Ayloshia grinned slightly, her bright smile seeming to wash warmly across the room. She stood up, her long silver hair dancing lightly about her.

You were very lucky, my friend. If Lord Cruss hadn't brought you to me as quickly and carefully as he did I question whether anyone could have saved you.

Puck sat up, hissing slightly in pain as she felt the stiff soreness in her belly. She winced as she glanced down and saw the thick bandages that swathed her middle. Where is the old boy? What happened to the Spirals? Did the city blow up while I was out?

Outside, destroyed, no, replied Ayloshia with a light giggle. Rejoice my friend, the sun rose this morning and children awoke and smiled at the possibilities. The Dreamers were protected, and all is well in Detroit. Ayloshia reached down and helped Puck stand, the pooka wobbling slightly uncertainly on her feet. You and Juvariel are heroes now.

muttered Arienkel, there is even talk of a celebration ball in your honor.

Really? Cool! Puck couldn't help but giggle. Does this mean I get to sit at the head table and make a speech?

Table yes, speech no, replied Ayloshia as she helped Puck pull on a warm bathrobe. They stepped through the door of Ayloshia's bedchamber and out into the hall. Lord Cruss waited uneasily there. His once fine clothes rent and stained with patches of blood and grime. His worn and sunken face looked haunted and worried. He looked up sharply as Puck and Ayloshia stepped into the hall.

Greetings and stuff, JC!

Puck! You're okay! He beamed brightly, and then seemed to catch himself and took on a sterner look and tone. You, ahem, you gave us all some concern. Puck noted as his face flushed with relief and she grinned wider.

Awwww, JC, you were worried about me!

No, just caring for a fallen comrade, he stammered stiffly.

You were fretting over me!

No I wasn't.

You were a black ball of despair.

That's rather overstating it

It was like a Shakespearian tragedy!

Or comedy, murmured Ayloshia softly to Arienkel. She and her advisor watched as Cruss turned and walked off stiffly, hotly denying Puck's ever more outlandish claims. Her arms waved about wildly as she pantomimed how Cruss must have thrown himself about in his great anguish. Lord Cruss started to look ill. Ayloshia grinned slightly. You know, Arienkel. That could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

Arienkel looked at her aghast and disbelievingly.

Ayloshia just smiled mischievously.


He lay on the floor of the cabin. His red hair spilled out around him. His hand rested on his chest, fingers lightly brushing over the scar that lay across his heart. Above him he watched as the morning dew dripped in through a small gap in the ceiling. It slowly ran down an old and twisted support beam. The golden wood worn down into a path from the many droplets that had gone before. The water collected at a certain point, where it lost the will to go on. Another drop would meet it. They would tremble in anticipation.

They would touch.

The droplet would glisten and gleam with its newfound joining, its mate, its pack. But then the force of the weight would prove too much. The effort of being a combined unit would twist and wrench it to the side. It would tremble in fear. Then it would plunge down over the edge, spinning and tumbling down into the darkness.

The droplet caught Conner on the cheek. Looking almost like a tear as it rolled off his face. Outside he could hear the activity of the caern. He and the others had returned to a hero's welcome. Even now the cries of joy and the sounds of the music filtered in to the cabin. From outside the door came Charlie's excited knock. He called in, shouted about how the ritual was about to start and Conner was needed.

Needed.

He looked down at his left hand, at the bottle it held. He looked at the amber liquid sloshing around inside. It seemed like forever since he had gotten a good drink. He lifted the bottle slowly, admiring the moisture on its sides, the fresh bubbles that frothed within it. It had been his only true friend and protector these eight years. Eight years of avoiding the nightmares. But he had gone back, had walked those tunnels again, and this time he had come back clean.

He rose lightly to his feet. He brushed the water from his face. He glanced up at the path of the droplets. One of his fingernails shifted into a curved claw. He reached up and lightly carved a new path for the water to follow. One that would carry it gently to the floor and to a crack that lead to the moist earth below. He watched the droplets flow down the new path, gingerly at first, but then with more surety. He glanced at the bottle and then set it down.

Dawn would come soon, and the time for nightmares was over.


Let it henceforth be known, throughout the tribes, that Leona' Throatripper is no longer a pup. No longer ranked a mere Cliath. She is to hereafter be known as Leona' Throatripper, rank Fostern Philodox of the Raging Falls Caern. Destroyer of the Traitor Within. Marn rested his hand on Leona's head as he spoke the words. The grizzled one-eyed Get of Fenris grinned at her, and then stepped past her.

Now let us look upon this pup, who is a pup no more. Christened in the final moments of Dominic Rends-the-Darkness', this boy has become a man. He now wields Bonespur, Dominic's own blade. He has slain many of the greatest enemies of our tribes. He is not to be awarded simply the next rank of honor, he is to be awarded two rank increases. Around Marn the assembled members of the tribes murmured in surprise at the weighty reward. Let it henceforth be known, throughout the tribes, that Charlie Blackmuzzle' Snyder is no more. Before you stands Charlie Blackmuzzle' Snyder, nephew of Marn The One-Eyed', Hero of the Pit, Adren Galliard of the Raging Falls Caern. Marn smiled warmly down at Charlie Arise now, both of you, and be welcomed by the packs.

Charlie and Leona both stood up, the last remains of their pack. They had grown more in two days then they had in the two years before. Charlie heard the proud and welcoming howls of his fellows, and felt himself too tired and exhausted to care. Was this how Dominic had felt whenever he and the others had kept thanking him for things he wasn't proud of? Charlie knew that Marn had been truly accurate about one thing. He was no longer a boy. He glanced at his uncle as he passed and paused before the last figure.

Kneeling before us is what was once a forgotten wolf. But he has earned the right to reclaim his name once more, and to earn a new title. He is Conner Degear, Elder Ahroun of the Raging Falls caern. Tell us, what name do you wish to be known by?

Charlie knew Conner had felt uneasy about returning, but he had been welcomed back with open arms by most of the Garou and their kin who protected Raging Falls. But he had been totally uninterested in this ritual, he said he had been restored to glory by Dominic's words, and didn't need this business of picking a new name. Of course it was mostly a symbolic gesture, casting aside your old Garou name and picking a new one to be reborn' with. He who had been Conner Degear kept his head down and remained silent. Marn frowned down at Conner.

Well, old friend? What is your new name?

Conner slowly lifted his head, his ice hard eyes looking about him calmly. He ticked his jaw slightly upwards and looked at the moon overhead.

I am ronin.

He stood up and turned away. Behind him the assembled packs murmured amongst themselves at his odd act. Charlie quickly hopped to his feet, his hand catching at Conner's shoulder. Conner glanced at him quizzically as Charlie turned back to the packs.

Conner Ronin' Degear, the single warrior who alone strikes fear into any servants of the Wyrm! The packs chuckled. Nodding in agreement and then calling forth Conner's new name to the moon overhead. Charlie grinned over at him, the move showcasing the X' shaped scar on his cheek caused by Endelon's two knife strokes, one being his first wound of the mission, the other being the last. Come, they accept you back. Don't turn away from them. Let us leave the horrors of The Pit where they belong; buried there.

Conner nodded slowly, clasping Charlie's hand in his own. No longer a lone wolf. He was once more one of them, one of the Garou.


I was wondering when you'd show up, said Jo quietly from where she sat on an overturned log looking up at the stars. Conner, Charlie, and Leona walked up to her. She smiled thinly. I heard the howls all the way hereit was a good song, Dominic would have liked it.

You were invited, said Charlie quietly. He had been worried with how grim Jo had become since Dominic's sacrifice. She only shrugged.

I didn't want to intrude. Besides, she turned and nodded at a long, narrow bundle of twigs and leaves covered by a dark and tattered black coat, I was busy collecting up some of his things. She stood up and patted the coat. He gave me this after our first mission together. I just sorta kept it around She shrugged again. It just reminds me of how solid and protective he was, no matter how big of a jerkoff he was being.

I got this, said Leona as she held up a broken piece of black stone. It's from The Maw, I picked it up before we left. It was part of the last piece of Gaia he touched before she snarled and blinked her eyes, I just figured it'd mean something. Charlie grinned and nodded at her, patting her shoulder.

I brought this, he offered as he pulled out a small pile of papers and set them atop the coat. It's the first song I ever wrote. The original draft. It's about us. I figured he'd like to know how he'd be remembered.

I brought this, so we could forget. Conner stepped forward and lay a length of bloodstained white fur down. He looked up at the starry sky. You gave me back who I was, but all I am is who I have become. But, you became something great in your last moments, whatever your sins. He stepped back, one of his hands reaching up to brush the deep scar on his chest that lay over his heart as he eyed the white fur. Then he glanced at Charlie and grinned slightly. It is a time to allow the past to be the past.

May I join? They looked up in surprise at the figure stepping out of the shadows. Syntax crossed her arms over her chest, her gray eyes looking at the collection of items. I too wish toremember him, though I didn't bring anything.

whispered Jo as she walked up and gripped Syntax's arm. You brought yourself. Somehow, I literally think that's enough for him.

They set fire to the collection of items; watching the bright orange flames leap and dance about.

He taught me how to be a hero, said Charlie as he watched the fire.

He taught me how to hunt Wyrmspawn, growled Leona softly.

He showed me how to admit my own errors and see my own victories, said Conner.

He slew my pack, said Syntax coldly, her eyes burning with a fire of their own as she watched the flames. She then shook her head. But, I can no longer hate him for it, however much I may want to. She turned and walked away. Slowly the others also departed until only Jo stood quietly in the darkness, looking at the smoldering embers.

I didn't really expect it to end this way, she whispered softly. I just planned to help you sort out some of your problems. I was gonna hook you back up with Conner and Syntax and, she shook her head, and I guess I sorta blew it. She blinked back a few tears. I'd intended for you to be alive at the end, not to have to die killing something that should have already been dead. She scuffed her foot on the ground, hiding her eyes behind her long dark hair. you told me to never change, never lose my so-called joy for life. She shook her head. I'll do it, but only cause you asked so nicely. She grinned weakly as she looked up at the moon overhead. She still heard the howls of the Garou, honoring the fallen.

They've got it wrong, Dom, you know that, don't you? They mourn the fall of a great hero, not the loss of a friend like we did. That's why I didn't go to their rituals. That's why I'll miss you man, not because you were great, or brave, or a hero. I'll just miss my friend. Literally.

Jo watched the last few wisps of smoke curl up into the sky. They twirled about in the wind as the moon illuminated them. She smiled softly as she looked at the moon and heard the howls of the Garou. Then she turned and started walking slowly back towards Detroit. Tomorrow was a brand new day, and who knew what might happen that would need her help? Or perhaps Conner's? Or Leona's, Syntax's, or Charlie's?

After all, there would always be new heroes.

The End.

It started as just another story, but for some reason it just seemed to metastasize into 165 pages of ten point font fun. The story itself came from a half remembered line I'd come up with during a dream and scribbled down in the middle of the night. I remember most of the dream, but the notes I took were woefully incoherent. (Well, write a note at three in the morning right after waking up and see how well you do) It didn't stop me, but I must admit one line out there I really sort of expected to be better then it was. (In case you care it's the line of how Kendar collapses down to the packs after Endelon kills himyeah, that was the inspiration point. I built this story so Endelon could murder his friend.) I was somewhat expecting an epiphany or moving moment to happen now. But for some reason it mostly feels anticlimatic.

I feel as though I owe thanks to people. Mostly I wish to thank anyone *anyone* who actually read the whole thing. Honestly I can't care whether or not you liked it if you were willing to make that sort of investment into me and my creations. I also wish to thank FurySForge, Tremere, Robert R., Grayflank (the horse that writes...heh!), PK'chu, TigerClaw, Yi Hisen, and any other writers who have reviewed my works (even if I suck enough not to have remembered to mention you), you're all what kept me going.Reviews rock, as I'm sure you all know.

Special thanks to Icy Mike, who first gave me the goal to try to write a long story. Special thanks to Tremere for being there from the get-go and rooting for Jo even more then I did (really, it's sorta sick) Also special thanks to Robert R. whose gentle prodding really helped me slog through the last couple edits and actually *finish* this beast, couldn't have done it without you; thanks man! To my Mom (so I'm cheesy, shoot me) who gave me an appreciation for reading. To me Dad (cheese!) who taught me not to quit. To Tremere for getting more fun out of Jo then even I do. To FurySForge for spotting little errors and pointing out problems (whether or not I accepted them as problems) that he thought I should consider and improve on. And to my little brother who plagiarized one of my works in order to easily get a college creative writing paper. The A+ he received with teacher's adulations are of questionable benefit to him, but for some reason made my chest (and head) swell.

It is now 8:58 on a Wednesday night and I am tired and need food and lavatory breaks. I wrote this little aside mostly for myself rather then anyone else. But I well. I'm done! Now onto bigger and better things, or so we hope. Now, to close off;

Evil triumphs when good men do nothing - Edmund Burke (paraphrased)

The writing triumphs when you finish - me, alone in my room and hungry.

Night all, thanks for joing in on the journey.

Thor.