The moot started. It was this moment that Nate had been waiting his whole life for. This would be the moment he finally exacted revenge for what he lost fifteen years ago. The records had revealed, finally, the one he had spent his life searching for. He was here, still active, unrepetant. He would die here, unshriven. The records had revealed, also, another disturbing fact, one which troubled Nate more than he ever cared to admit. The moot was about to open.

A sultry voice from the shadows behind Nate stopped him as he was about to enter the caern, "Are you not going to even say hello to me?"

Nate stopped. He wasn't the only one present at the caern's entrance, "You take a great risk in coming here, Kathryn, they will be on the lookout for any and all Wyrm-taint."

"Fear not for me, sweet youngling," the voice replied sweetly, "I've merely come to make sure you uphold your end of the bargain."

"What do you ask of me?" Nate queried.

"A simple matter," said the voice, "I've been watching the one you have identified as your mother's killer..."

"If you wish me to spare his life, I'm afraid I will have to withdraw myself from our deal," Nate hissed venemously, "His life was forfeit the day he raised his dagger against her fifteen years ago."

"His life is of no concern to me," Kathryn replied, "But his dagger, that is something of great interest to me. The coils of the Wyrm are a mysterious thing, for the dagger is none other than an instrument I have been seeking for many a year. Strange, isn't it, that we both, meeting by chance in Egypt, find we are now seeking the same figure, one for his life, and one for his weapon. My demand is this, when you are finished with him, bring the dagger to me."

"The dagger is of no concern to me," Nate said, "It is the beast that wields it that is my interest. Once I have blotted out that stain, the dagger is yours to do with as you wish."

Without waiting for a reply, Nate strode into the caern. He had now missed the opening, and the proceedings had progressed to the cracking of the bone, the time when any complaints were to be made public. Nate sighed in relief, if he had missed this, his revenge would have had to be delayed. Now, though, it was time.

Nate felt almost giddy as he stepped forward to be heard. There was a slight gasp from some of the elders as the albino metis foreigner stepped forward to be heard. Nate waited for a moment, the elders furiously debated among themselves, trying to decide whether or not to let him speak. A single observer, though, was not quite as indecisive. A Shadow Lord got up and stepped forward. Clad in a richly feathered cloak, his ebon hair fell in richly braided locks across his face, partially covering the scarred remains of what was once his left eye, by his side hung a dagger that, even without any supernatural aid, could only be a rather powerful fetish, "What is this preposterous nonsense!" he bellowed, catching the attention of all, "This verminous, halfbreed whelp presumes that he has the right appear in front of us, in our holy caern, let alone speak as if he were a creature of consequence here? At the least, I say we throw this upstart out of this land with a smarting hide for his arrogance!"

"Silence, Paul," One of the elders warned, "You would do well to remember this is not your caern. It is the decision of the elders that the foreigner may be permitted to speak." The elder turned to Nate, "Know, though, that what you say had better be something of import. Your form is, at best, a blasphemy in the eyes of Gaia, therefore, we are expecting that your words and actions here will make up for it."

Nate nodded respectfully towards the elders. I turned towards the gathered caern, "My apologies to all for my sudden intrusion here, but there is a matter that demands my attention. A matter that will bring to light a criminal who is standing here among you. Before I reveal who it is, though, I must correct a mistake made by the elders. I am not, as they claimed, a foreigner here. For not ten miles from this location was I born. I am a native to these lands, though my travels have taken me far and wide."

Nate stole a quick glance at the silenced Shadow Lord. He seemed to have taken a sudden interest in what Nate was saying. Good, he thought, he is suspecting something, probably is being bugged by something half remembered. Let's see if I can't give him more than just a suspicion, Nate thought. He addressed the Shadow Lord, "Paul West, member of The Inquisition, do me the great honour of standing up and stepping forward."

Paul was so shocked at this that he obeyed out of pure reaction. "Good," Nate said, once again turning to the rest of the sept, "I'm sure you are all aware of some of Paul's accomplishments. While certainly not on the level of some of the more legendary Garou, his life is certainly not something to smirk at. I, personally, was more than impressed upon hearing one particular story about his exploits. I'm sure you've heard it before, about how, fifteen years ago, he and his pack fell victim to a surprise attack by the Black Spirals, and how he, being the only survivor, fought them off single-handedly."

There were nods of assent within the crowd, even Paul was now preening himself slightly. Nate smiled, then continued, "...thus, it is with regret that I inform you that that is all that was...a story, nothing more. You see, he never fought the Black Spirals. No, after they killed his packmates, he begged them to spare him, and for some unknown reason, they did, taking one of his eyes as compensation. But that is not why I'm here, I'm here to expose the reason his pack was ambushed in the first place, the events leading up to it..."

Paul, finally having gotten over the turn of events in Nate's speach, roared angrily, "You ungrateful little beast! Do you think I'm going to stand here and listen to you impune my name with your baseless accusations?"

Nate rounded on Paul, letting a bit of the emotion that bubbled within him for fifteen years to the surface, "You will stay silent and listen, you cowardly little vermin!" Paul shut up out of pure shock, Nate continued, refusing to let up now that some of the anger was flowing out of him, "I know exactly what happened that day, fifteen years ago, because I watched it all happen. I saw you kill Linda West, I saw you beg for mercy from the Black Spirals, I saw it all...father!"

Nate heard murmurs start up immediately within the crowd. Holding in his rage for a few moments, Nate turned back and addressed them. As much as Nate would have liked to kill him then and there, he reminded himself that it would be so much more satisfying to expose him first, "You heard me correctly. He is my father, as ashamed as I am to admit it. It wasn't until I examined the records of this area that I figured it out. Paul West, and Linda West, two Garou that got along far too well to be simple packmates. Why don't you ask Paul why, exactly, he was patrolling in that exact area when the Spiral Dancers came? Why don't you ask him why Linda, the Garou who supposedly meant most to him, disappeared several weeks before this? Why don't you ask him why her corpse was found among the mangled corpses of his packmates, with naught but a SINGLE DAGGER WOUND TO THE HEART?"

Nate now turned to the elders, "I present to you, esteemed elders of this caern's totem, the evidence that that abomination standing there is responsible for bringing me, a metis, into this world. An offense punishable by death, if I remember correctly."

Nate brought out a small fetish of his own. It looked like little more than a locket, but the recognition on the elders' faces told him all he needed to know. They knew it was a lineage-chain, capable of identifying the direct kin of the Garou it is dedicated to. Without further pause, Nate tossed it to the feet of Paul West, where it immediately began to glow. The elders, once again, conferred quickly upon themselves, "By the evidence before us, Paul West has been found guilty of breaking the Litany. As such, the law requires that he be put to death."

Nate stepped forward again, "If it pleases the council, may I suggest the manner in which his execution be carried out?"

The elder nodded, "It pleases the council. Let us hear your suggestion."

Nate continued, "This waste of Garou life is responsible for the death of my mother. I request permission to end his life myself, in one on one combat."

The elders hesitated, not quite sure of whether or not to assent to this. "Of course," Nate continued, "Should I fail, the death of a metis is certainly not something to be frowned upon here, is it? And then you can execute him in your own time."

Another conference among the elders. Paul's expression drifted constantly between fear and rage. A decision was reached, "Permission granted, the duel shall take place here, now."

Nate smiled, as did Paul, "At least I can wipe my unfortunate mistake off the face of Gaia before I die," he snarled, withdrawing his dagger.

"Father, you've tried to bury this event for fifteen years, I've been trying to bring it to a resolution, let us see who is the more dedicated between us," Nate replied.

Though only having one arm, Nate wielded the scimitar with frightening skill, easily parrying the swift strikes from Paul's enchanted dagger. A circle of Garou quickly formed around the two, watching in amazement as the silver blades flew around each other in an ever fluctuating spiral. "You have some skill," Nate panted, "but I can see that it has already rusted around the edges, when was the last time you've been in a real fight, you pathetic cow?"

"My whole life is a fight against the Wyrm," Paul gasped back through gritted teeth, "and little wyrmlings like you, the hideous offspring of it."

"So, since you're my father, and I your offspring," Nate rejoined, "does that mean you are admitting you are the Wyrm incarnate?"

Paul roared in inarticulate anger. Nate saw an opening and went for it. Suddenly, Paul jumped back. Holding the dagger in the air, he shouted "Sunbeam!" From the heart of the dagger came a blinding flash. Nate stumbled backwards, rubbing his eyes. Paul, grinning, moved forward for the kill. Nate, sensing the danger, countered. Swinging the silver scimitar blindly in front of him, he shouted, "Glitterdust!"

A gray cloud seemed to burst from the fetish-sword and envelope Paul, who immediately dropped to the ground, scratching himself in agony. His entire body was covered in a fine sprinkling of silver dust. He looked up in surprise as Nate stood over him, scimitar raised in a grim finality. Seconds later, Paul's head rolled to a stop several feet away.

An hour later, the revel had begun. Though Nate usually took part in these, seeking desperately for an emotional release that ever eluded him, he left the caern early. Almost as soon as he emerged from the sept, he caught the whiff of that exotic scent which plucked so well at his emotions. Following it into the surrounding forest, he found Kathryn in a shadowed glen. "I believe you wanted this," Nate said, tossing the dagger that originally belonged to Paul at her feet.

"No," she replied, standing up and sidling over to Nate, "I merely needed the dagger...what I want, is something entirely different."

The clouds drifted off, and the newly waxing crescent moon bathed the two passionately embracing Garou in its sickly green light, as if the Wyrm itself had blessed this union.