Countdown to Falling Waters

A daily collection of vignettes introducing the world of Falling Waters...

Eight Days : The Transition of Lallawalla
March 2011 – Robert Moses Power Plant.

The humans were so damned quick. It had only been a few months since he had lead the assault on this place, and already there was hardly any sign that anything out of sorts had ever occurred.

This was probably just another suicide run, but he had gotten used to that. He had been woken from torpor a half dozen times in the last few years, and each time he was amazed to discover that he had not been destroyed. But once he discovered what had become of his wife, he had to act.

After that, everything had gone wrong. But if she had returned home, maybe there was still hope.

Down to the drainage tunnels. He moved slowly so as to minimize the amount of time he could be spotted. There must be watchers posted everywhere, though he could not see them. Most of the locals didn’t remember that the Robert Moses power plant was built on the ruins of another hydroelectric plant that had collapsed back in the fifties, and no one except for a few of the employees here knew that some of the old overflow tunnels were still accessible. After a few minutes he found the spot he remembered.

A swift blow from his claws and he jumped down into the darkness. These old tubes were huge, more than fifteen feet across. Every step echoed all around him. With every step he grew more surprised that no one came to challenge him.

The gates to the Caern lay open. The insides were in tatters. This was not right.

He stepped inside Falling Waters. Time to roll the dice again.

“ Garou, I have come to face your judgment."

Nothing. The antechamber, always abuzz with spirits and the conversations of the Garou, lay silent around him.

"I have come. Is there no one to answer my call. Behold, I am -"

The vampire was cut off by a cackle from the darkness, “We know who you are... Leech. But the Garou have all left this place. Only we, the dead, remain.”

He squinted, and was able to make out a faint silhouette in the darkness, “She has not returned then?”

The figure stepped into the light, and the vampire rather wished it had not; it was a wretched drowned thing, “No. The Maid is gone. Their sanctum remains only to be violated by creatures such as you and I. The justice you seek will not be found here.”

“I don’t understand. She is not a ghost to be banished, she has…”

“.. departed for greener pastures. You have nothing left, Oshagonondagie. Go fall on your sword, or meet the sunrise of whatever it is you people do when you’ve failed as miserably as you have.”

He growled, “You know that is not my name.”

“You would rather I used your real one? It’s appropriate enough. Now go.”

“I had forgotten what had become of my beloved nephews, I thank you for the reminder.”

And with a curt bow, and to the sound of echoing laughter, he left that place.

Seven Days : Bull Roarer
Zoar Valley – November 2010

From the Blog of Pierre Burton,

Goddamnit I fucking hate the woods. I hate them even more in the winter. Everything is covered in snow , and I can’t find my way anywhere because of the valley. No cell reception. No GPS. Backpacking through a fucking forest in the middle of a Buffalo winter. Who the hell sends a Glasswalker to find an eighty year old Lupus hiding in the middle of the woods? I mean, does that make any sense to you?

Boss is spooked, you can tell that. Sending me out here reeks of desperation. He knows that if it’s got a pulse I can find it, but sending me in means that there’s nobody else he can count on.

And this is assuming the old codger is even still alive. Nobody has heard one word from this dude in the last ten years.

So anyways, I’m scribbling this on the back of a rock here in the middle of this… what is this? A ridgeline? It’s all white on white, the view sucks. Things would be a lot clearer from the Penumbra, I could just step over and have an easier view, move a little quicker. But I still don’t trust the Umbra out here. Not after what happened two years ago. There’s still a shade of that… something odd about this place I can’t quite put my finger on.

Whatever, short version, I can’t find this guy for days.

So I’m working my way through some frozen underbrush, and I see some old tracks and smell an old wolf’s den. And if I’m too dense to figure out, there are hand carved glyphs all around here. There is power here, or at least there was.

The den turns out to be a small old lean-to, some small signs that somebody has been here in the last few days, but nothing since the last snowfall. Nothing fresh.

I’m about to cut my losses when I decide to peek through the other side. Damnedest thing, on the other side of the Gauntlet there’s a fire roaring, meat cooking, and this ancient bastard sitting in his rocking chair. This is him. Bull Roarer. The guy’s a legend. Living legend apparently. I take a moment to shift to Lupus to be friendly about it.

I step through, “ BULL ROARER, IS THAT YOU? “ I bark. My wolf-speech sucks. I always sound like I’m yelping.

He makes some sort of indistinguishable sounds, like old rocks grinding together. Or bones, I suppose.

“HEY, I’M ROCKS THE NET, YOU KNOW ME. GLASSWALKER? YOU WERE THERE AT MY FIRST CHANGE A GROSS OF MOONS AGO.”

“Yeah kid, I remember you,” his voice is rough, like Clint Eastwood after a bender, “That runt of a Metis who never came out from underfood. Always with your ataris and your pokemans.”

“YEAH MAN, THAT’S ME. YOU’RE ALIVE. HOW... UMM... HOW HAVE YOU BEEN?”

“I’m well. Thank you child. I thought I’d be left alone here,” he reaches over and pulls the bit of meat he was charring off the fire, tearing half off for me. I wolf it down with as much dignity as I can manage, “And for the sake of my old ears, change to a form where you can talk normally.

I shift back to Homid. It’s easy to shift here, I wonder what that means? “ Right Right. Well, you haven’t been right? I mean the boss hasn’t bothered you in years. But uuuh, thing is, things have gotten kinda pear.”

“You mean the business with the Maid? So he needs to call old decrepit Bull Roarer out to help.”

What else could I have been talking about? I nod.

“This’ll be the death of me ya know, you little shit.”

“Umm… sir... I have a car waiting a little ways from here, there’s no need for you to uhh strain yourself.”

He grunts, “Cars. Idiot children,” he rises and starts to gather his belongings. Wow, that’s a Grand Klaive. I was shocked he could even lift it, “And where is Seta now?”

“He’s with the Sept. Up by the Falls. He’s trying to get all the heavy hitter together. We need to find her.”

“”Course you do son, course you do.” He gingerly sets an old bone flute inside his bag. Looking at him there, he might as well have been eight hundred years old. His eyes were clear though, and he did seem surprisingly spry once he picked that klaive up.

He whistled then, and a dozen spirits like rays of color came racing into the room, “Cars. I swear to God child. I should beat you to death with your own idiocy. Tonight, we'll fly like the wind.”

And we did.

Six Days : The Drowned
June 2011 - Niagara Falls, New York

When I heard the distant roaring of the great falls, my hands began to tremble, and the peace I had felt when I first set foot in my canoe fled. It was, I think, the realization that there would be physical pain before death that made me shiver and shake. I prayed to the Thunderer that my death would be swift and that my courage would remain with me until the end. Then I threw my useless paddle away as the canoe entered the rapids and I watched the falls growing nearer, the sky reaching down to touch the very edge of the water as it plunged into the abyss. I gripped the sides of the canoe as the current heaved the small craft to and fro, moving me swiftly to my end...
- S.E. Schlosser

Long ago, the peaceful tribe of the Ongiaras [The Neutral Nation] lived beside the Niagara River. The Stone Giants were on the warpath, Indians were dying, and it was believed that the tribe must appease the Thunder God Hinum, who lived with his two sons in a cave behind the Falls.

At first, the Indians sent canoes laden with fruit, flowers and game over the Falls, but the dying continued. The Indians then began to sacrifice the most beautiful maiden of the tribe, who was selected once a year during a ceremonial feast. One year, Lelawala, daughter of Chief Eagle Eye was chosen.

On the appointed day, Lelawala appeared on the river bank above the Falls, wearing a white doeskin robe with a wreath of woodland flowers in her hair. She stepped into a white birch bark canoe and plunged over the Falls to her death. Her betrothed, a young warrior of the tribe, heartbroken, leaped into his canoe and followed her. But his bravery failed him in the end and he watched her go over the edge.

Hinum's two sons caught Lelawala in their arms, and each desired her. She promised to accept the one who told her what evil was killing her people. The younger brother told her of a old giant that lay at the bottom of the river. Once a year, the giant became a snake, entered the village and poisoned the water. Those afflicted would throw themselves over the cataract in despair. The old cannibal then devoured the dead.

Now a spirit, Lelawala told her people to destroy the creature. Indian braves mortally wounded the creature on his next yearly visit to the village. Returning to his lair on the river, the snake caught his head on one side of the river and his tail on the other, forming a semi-circle and the brink of the Horseshoe Falls. Lelawala returned to the cave of the God Hinum, where she reigns as the Maid of the Mist. Of her betrothed, no more is said in these stories.
- Seneca Folk Tale

Five Days : Little Fish
April 2011 - Lake Erie Marina

[Scene – INTERIOR MEETING ROOM – The room sways back and forth slightly with the tide. Around the table sit five men. THE INDUSTRIALIST is nursing a brandy and seems ill at ease. THE BILLIONAIRE is smoking a cigar and has his feet up on the table. THE STRAIGHTMAN is patient… as always. At the far end of the table, silent and brooding, sits THE LAWYER. Scantily clad women hover in the alcoves and quickly attend to the men’s every whim.]

[ENTER THE PLAYBOY clad only in a terry cloth robe and speedo, showing off a gold medallion resting in a tuft of hair nestled between chest and prodigious belly. He has a woman under each arm, whose bodies could only be attainable by the very latest in scientific advancement.]

THE PLAYBOY – Gentleman, look at this table. This. Now this is a meeting table. I had it flown in from South America. Pure mahogany. And that inlay, that’s not alabaster; that is GENE-U-INE ivory. Now that, that’s a table.

You’re probably wondering why I’ve gathered you. I think we’ve become complacent. Don’t get me wrong we can, as my mother always said, ‘measure success by our waistlines’. So I’m doing great, but CARL, you gotta eat. [LAUGHS]

Now, our illustrious and absurdly effective allies, woefully uninformed though they may be, have been gloriously effective in purging the land of our eco-terrorist enemies. I speak of course, of the self-absorbed and ignorant vampires. However, we can’t rely on blundering bloodsuckers to kill all the werewolves indefinitely. Nor is this lake going to poison itself.

Oh speaking of which, that’s real caviar gentlemen. Fresh from the Black Sea; that’s Osetra. That’s what the Czars ate. Gratis, of course. Indulge, please.

[THE INDUSTRIALIST looks down at his food, and fitfully moves around the caviar with a cracker.]

THE INDUSTRIALIST– Isn’t caviar made from sturgeon?

THE PLAYBOY – Yeah?

[THE INDUSTRIALIST pushes his plate away.]

THE PLAYBOY – We are men of industry; of action. So I say to you now, these are our lands, let us ravage them like kings! Yeah, like kings! You heard me. I’ve had enough of this pussyfooting. So yeah, Roadkill, how are the imports looking?

THE STRAIGHTMAN – Yeah, they’re good. They’re good kids. Salt of the earth and raring to go.

THE PLAYBOY – Excellent. We should throw them a party or something, get ‘em laid.

THE STRAIGHTMAN – Two of them are gelded…

THE PLAYBOY – That… that there is disgusting. [Beat pause] And you judge me. You. Judge. me.

THE BILLIONAIRE – But Gil, Gil, we have a good thing going here. Nobody even knows we’re playing in their sandbox; and we’re winning. Hell, we’ve already won.

THE PLAYBOY dashes his glass of Dom against the wall.

THE PLAYBOY – Winning? You call this winning? Picking up scraps? Eating leftovers? What have you done? [POINTS at THE INDUSTRIALIST] Oh, go local sports team! Rah rah! You think you’re hot shit? What about you? [POINTS at THE LAWYER] Are you going to sue the Garou? You gonna subpoena them to death? With your subpoenis? And Yooooou [Point at THE BILLIONAIRE] Oh look at me, I built a ghetto housing project, I’m so racist. How edgy is that? You make me sick.

YOU... CAME TO ME; YOUR TAILS BETWEEN YOUR GODDAMMED LEGS. Your penny ante schemes and bullshit had gotten you as far as you were gonna get. Where were you? Pissing the bed every night, with your twelve hundred count Egyptian cotton sheets, hoping the bad things in the night weren't going to find out about you.

Who was there for you? Who took you in? Who made you safe? Who made all the bad things go away? Who sat you at a table of your enemies and made your cup runneth the fuck over?

YOU WANT THE GUNS? YOU WANT THE MONEY? THE WOMEN? THE POWER? You wanted your enemies out of the way, and your own scared tushies safe and sound. Little fucking fish in the big scary pond.

Who did that? ME. THE BIG FISH. THE BIGGEST FISH. GIL FUCKING FISCHMAN! You want to know who the man is? You're looking at him; I’m the goddammed man. And the man says: It’s time to get things done.

Four Days – Summer Barbeque
July 2011 – The Penumbra

[SCENE – Backyard and driveway of an upper/lower duplex somewhere in Buffalo. Many spirits flit about, but six spirits seem more tangible than the rest. An open cooler sits on the ground, full of ice, and overflowing with frosty cold Pabst Blue Ribbon. An attractive 20 something blue haired, horn rimmed bespectacled Hipster chick smiles and shares the pilsnery bounty, she is LA BOHEME Totem of Cunning. Standing by a smoking Weber grill, full of sausages, Sahlen’s dogs, and burgers, a tanned skinned man in an A-line undershirt tends the food. He is the quintessential GOOD NEIGHBOR. Sipping on a beer, looking to all umbral witnesses as an example of passive Jainist statuary, RECLAMATION watches all.]

[LA BOHEME] Well, we have a Hoyt in state government, so there’s that right? A home town boy done right….right?

[GOOD NEIGHBOR] Yeah, shame of it is though, there has been a Hoyt watching out for the B-lo for three generations. [He sighs and puts another hotdog on a bun, an ephemeral wisp of light swoops by snatching it, chattering something about relish]

[RECLAMATION] The wheel…..turns…. the world…. Is made….. anew.

[LA BOHEME flashes it a dirty look] Did you get that from a fortune cookie? Do you have my lucky numbers?

[RECLAMATION] Thank you…. For….. the beer.

[GOOD NEIGHBOR] I invited the rest of the gang too, haven’t had the family together in a while. This… this’ll be nice. I think.

[With the sound of an electric guitar riff and a small explosion, a figure rockets down onto the driveway, smashing a small crater in the pavement]

[LA BOHEME] Wow, melodrama much?

[THUNDERSNOW!] WHATS UP BITCHES! YOU BETTER HAVE THE BEER CUZ I BROUGHT THE PARTAY! WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHA!

[RECLAMATION, after a long pause grumbles with a sound of crumbling plaster] Wow…. Just wow.

[THUNDERSNOW!] HOW BOUT THIS HEAT! WOOHA! TOOK OUT AIRCONDITIONERS IN A RETIREMENT COMMUNITY TODAY!!!! DARWIN FOR THE WIN!!!1111!!!@

[GOOD NEIGHBOR] Everyone is welcome here…. Even you. ‘Brat?

[THUNDERSNOW! Bending his gigantic ten foot form at the waist graciously accepts the sausage]
[The Weber spits and smokes, an ember falls on the driveway and expands into a pseudo-humanoid figure]

[THE ETERNAL FLAME] You have summoned me, I have come. What is your business?

[GOOD NEIGHBOR] Oh hey, EF, good to see you showed up.

[THE GOOD NEIGHBOR Looks at each gathered Incarnae and then at THUNDERSNOW!] Is this everyone then?

[THUNDERSNOW! Mouth full of dripping sausage give him a shrug] MMPPHHGUEMPH

[GOOD NEIGHBOR] I’ll take that, sadly, as a yes.

[With a sigh, he takes off the apron and hangs up his tongs, spirits whipping in to serve themselves like eager children]

[GOOD NEIGHBOR] We all know how bad things have gotten for our half-blooded children.

[THUNDERSNOW!] BOTH SIDES!

[GOOD NEIGHBOR] Indeed.

[RECLAMATION] The Old Guard….has fallen. Blown aside… like autumnal leaves. The new generation….must take up it’s role…. In the battle…… unending.

[LA BOHEME] I’d say the only thing Seta has done right was sending the pups to ground. Nobody thought of doing that with the others, and now they’re all but lost to us. At least we still HAVE Garou. Have you SEEN what a city without changelings looks like? Not cool.

[GOOD NEIGHBOR] Sister, you are correct. The Alpha has utterly failed in his
responsibilities. So the task then, falls upon us. We must help, aide, and assist these cubs and cliath, empower them, gird them for war, and allow them to flourish. Without them our hands have been tied.

[THUNDERSNOW!] THIS HEAT IS BULLSHIT!

[GOOD NEIGHBOR] That is no mean feat. The portents are not good. New leadership will be needed if our wayward sister is ever to be found. I’m asking all of you. Go to them… watch over them, this is our chance.

[RECLAMATION] This is….our time.

[ETERNAL FLAME] A time of strife, but a time of hope as well.

[LA BOHEME] Allright, Saturday. Let’s fucking DO this!

Three Days : Dancer
Devil's Hole - 2008


They will not break me. He stands right in front of me, mocking me for not having had the strength to end my own life. He is right, the bastard is right. He threw a knife at my feet and told me to be done with it, but I could just have easily have ripped out my own throat. But I'm a coward. Always have been. What hope is there left for me now?

Have they already broken me? I have been rotting in a hole in the earth for the last... i don't know how long. The only way I can measure time is when someone above poars gruel into my oubliette. But I lost track of time. Lost track of counting. On the ground, slurping up what substance I can, trying not to eat my own filth. They will not break me. I am Garou. I am a Child of Gaia. They can torture me, but they can't degrade me. I can be strong.

Now I am in a room and this vile Wyrm thing is berating me. He tells me that I have no understanding of the world besides that which has been brainwashed into me. He tells me that the truth of the world is not pretty, but it is necessary. He says the Garou have always been of the Wyrm. He says that it is obvious. Were we of the Wyld, shouldn't we be creators of something? What have our people ever created? We are at the heart destroyers of things. This is a badge of honor. This is our function. But the world has been broken, the Weaver has gone mad and corrupted the world. Only a few of the Garou still perform their intended function. Only the Dancers have been pure to their roots. Not been corruption by the insanity of the Weaver. Madness, all of it. But maybe there is some truth there? No. I will not be brainwashed. I will not.

He laughs at me and leaves the room. Bent creatures enter, and for a time they put their silver hooks into me. Raking me, showing me my own internal organs, one by one. They are ever so patient. They don't use the silver much, just enough to keep me open. The real work they do with steel. Better so I can heal their work.

Sometime after my bladder and before my liver, I pass into insensibility.

I am dressed now. I am awake. I am wearing a suit. A monkey suit. I am in a classroom. The man sits at a desk and gestures to the chalkboard. Why would I wear such a suit as this? Am I not of the Wyld? Why would I cover myself in the Weaver's web? I should be happier naked, clad in the moon. I have no reply. I am confused. I don't know what is happening anymore. I am too weary to curse him, I take off my clothes. Better to do little things. I don't want to hurt anymore. I hurt so bad.

He smiles then. He has food brought to me. I am so hungry. I must have regenerated my whole body a dozen times over. He gives me meat. The meat is raw and bloody and sweet. I can feel it sitting inside of me. I know what he is going to tell me. He is going to tell me it is man flesh, and then I will be disgusted and I will not eat anymore. But if I can eat it all before he tells me what it is, then I win! I will outsmart this creature.

But he says nothing. That night I sleep in a bed. But I do not sleep long. Do I? So bone tired I don't really know. But I have a dream. I dream that I am standing before a long path through the darkness. There are spirits all around, and they urge me forward. Beautiful creatures call to me to join them. Yes, I will come to you.

I pray I am fleeing into the release of death. But I know, oh God I know. I know I am only taking my first step onto the Spiral.

Two Days : Helldivers
Cairn of The Hand of Gaia – Midwinter 2010

James Seta. Why have you come here?
- Like my son, Azim Seta, who fought the Stone Giants with his bare hands, who gave his life to protect our Sept. I will fight until my last breath to bring our lady home.

James Seta. What will give up?
- Amanda Scott was my wife. She was no Garou, but she clawed at High Hat with her own broken fingers trying to protect my son. I can only give as much as she. But I give it gladly.

James Seta. Will you stay with this pack until our duty is fulfilled?
- Robert Grimmer was my pack mate. He fell when we laid siege to the Dancers. Like him, I will remain true until the end. I belong to the Pack. I have nothing else.

Michael McHenry. Why have you come here?
- My brother was Francis Xavier. He died when we were betrayed outside the Hammer Labs. I seek vengeance.

Michael McHenry. What will you give up?
- Blood Walker was my pack mate. Broken Sword cut him nearly in half. It took him hours to die. But he died like a warrior. I give up that honor. I will die forgotten and alone, in the dark.

Michael McHenry. Will you stay with this pack until our duty is fulfilled?
- Kristen Sunderland was my mother. She died giving birth to me. She did her duty. There is nothing else but our duty.

Mary Sanchez. Why have you come here?
- To find what has been lost. Without my love I have nothing else. The dead have no names. I have come to lose my name.

Mary Sanchez. What will you give up?
- Nothing else matters without our home. I was the guardian of the cubs. I watched them die. I give up a smile. I give up a laugh.

Mary Sanchez. Will you stay with this pack until our duty is fulfilled?
- I have nothing else but the pack. High Hat took everything that matters to me. I stand upon the altar and pledge myself to death.

Whispers through Doughnut. Why have you come here?
- Abraham Cohen was my favorite son. He died alone. I was too slow. Tonight, I will be fast.

Whispers through Doughnut. What will you give up?
- I go into the dark that goes down forever. I forsake my hope of life. I forsake my hope of rebirth. I will give everything but my honor to save the Maid.

Whispers through Doughnut. Will you stay with this pack until our duty is fulfilled?
- Until the very end. Until the sun burns out and the oceans boil away.

I am Bull Roarer. I have come to lead you into darkness..

I am Bull Roarer. I am an old man. Long past my time. I go gratefully, knowing I have always lived with Gaia.

I am Bull Roarer. I will go down into the dark. Darkness will not stop me. Pain will not stop me. I will find her and bring her home. There is nothing else left for me.

Grandfather Thunder. Will you come and watch over these desperate Garou. Will you let them become a pack that will think and fight and die as one?

Grandfather Thunder. Will you come and lead us through the jaws of the Wyrm himself? Will you steel our hearts against the terrors we must face?

Grandfather Thunder. Will you watch over us in our time of darkness. Will you join us in our celebrations if we should succeed. Will sing our song until the end of days?

- YES.

One Day : Beginnings
July 15th, 2011

[A handwritten letter sent to all characters]

My friend,
You are invited to a meeting of the family this Saturday, July 16th. On that day I shall welcome all of you back to the fold and inform you certain developments. At sunset I invite you to witness my performance of the most sacred Rite of the Winter Wolf.

Yours in faith,
Edgar Seta