Battle of the Pit

Overview

The Southern White Howlers had been fighting the Wyrm in time sense immemorial. They had known no other tribes in their fight so far to the north save their northern brethren, a faction of the tribe, whom had long ago split and had gone deep into the ice planes. The southern white howlers had followed herds to the softer climate in the south lands. This was during the ice ages and the world was harsh to all, most fell to the harsh climate and few had learned to master the open tundra as well as they had. They had not only managed to survive but learned to thrive by the standards of the region. Centuries have past and the cold of the ice age receded. This opened trade in the world and Tribes that were not known to the Southern White Howlers came from other lands with open arms of friendship. These Garou tribes had come forward now that the lands had defrosted.

Though the new tribes never stayed for long often following herds for the hunt, as the winters were too brutal by most people's standards. It was in this time that Southern White Howlers had their first chance to interact with the Garou Nation. They had been invited to a moot, a grand celebration with tales of glory and honor, tribes from far and wide came to give their stories because their history is recounted by the Gallards and retold from generation to generation, they feasted, they told stories, they reveled. It was a glorious moment that they all enjoyed, a festival for days for the glory of Gia.

Eventually a cycle of cold and darkness creeped back into the world separating the Southern White Howlers yet again from other tribes. This was the time that the Wyrm had been looking for and came forth from their rift into the world, unphased by cold, and enjoying a prolonged darkness they invaded. They took a new approach this time, their cruel taint plagued the world, infesting people and creatures rather than assaulting and killing directly. This tactic showed to be very effective.

Battered and beaten by the infections and taint and having witnessed their own kin fall to the wrym slowly by the banes, the Elders of the Southern White Howlers got called the tribe together to make a terrible choice. Eventually through much debate the majority chose to assault the Wyrm directly, hoping to weaken it enough to secure their homeland and some of their kin at the expense of their warriors lives.

It was also decided that They would send a call for aid to each of the European Tribes of the garou Nation that they had bonded with, but received no answers. The warriors of the tribe were marshaled and marched into the Pit, hoping to gain a decisive victory in the war against the Wyrm, but fearing their end.

Into The Fray

To the Pit the Southern White Howlers marched, their spirits high despite the fear trying to grip at them, their determination was as steel. They knew that the Wyrm's methods had been tactically sound and was slowly killing their people. They had a simple choice to die slowly or stand mighty and fight gloriously. Their only lament that they were fighting alone. They had thought they had fostered Kinship with the Garou Nation and that they would have respond to their call for aid and that they would share this glory for the honour fo gaia. So why had they not come? They had found a Gateway to the Realm of Malfeas itself. Blight to nature and all that they stood for!! But Alas, No call was answered, the Garou Nation had not heard their call or worse had turnned their backs on them. They were alone..

Arriving at the pit they readied themselves for battle and death. They put aside their concerns, ate one last meal together and readied themselves for Battle. They had but a short distance before they would cross over the edge to the pit. As they crested the rim of the forlorn landscape and looked down at the horror that was the gateway to hell itself. A massive host of the Wyrm creatures. The Leaders of the Tribe, the shamans and heroic warriors gave their final words of encouragement and bade them to be ready for Battle. Together they moved forward into hell on Earth.

What happened next was the embodiment of glory on a scale that made the gods blush, the Southern White Howlers caught the Fomori unaware. They charged in with their lines fully formed their Garou warriors changed into beasts of war, the Crinos, the human kine expertly keeping ranks, hearing the encouragement by their monstrous kin's savage display of prowess. They smashed into the ranks of the Fomoriv their initial blow decimating the first few ranks that had weakly formed. The initial impact was so fierce that there was a glimmer of Hope and possibility that they would break the demon lines under the assault. sadly as the element of surprise fades the sheer size of the femori host rallied against them.

The Fomarch Counter assault

Then forward came the Fomarch. Creatures of immense power and size they pushed back the assault and created a pause in the battle, which allowed the Fomori to gather their strength.The Southern White Howlers held their lines strong and many of the Fomarch fell, Then came forward the Fomorian, the clear leader here. It smashed through the left flank and caused massive casualties and injuries. In response many of the oldest and most powerful white howler garou gathered together to take the Fomarch head on. Many brave warriors selflessly died during the assault, their lines held strong however and their prowess forced back the Fomorian and its Fomori troops. As Dusk rose shadows danced all about them, darkness tugging at their very souls. Their Hearts felt the burden of long day of fighting and many lost. The Southern White Howlers and their kin, their numbers depleted but not yet broken continued to fight because anything else meant certain death.. Just before the pitch of night took its final hold. as the final rays of light started to faded. The Southern White Howlers surveyed their remaining numbers one last time. knowing that darkness was not in their favor here. The resolve of both Garou and Kine alike started to falter as they knew that they had not the strength to finish the job that time was not their ally..

Hope from the Darkness

As the Southern White Howlers reformed their lines for one more triumphant charge in a day full of glory and heart but ultimately end believed to be loss and sadness. A single Loud clear sound could be heard above the noise of battle, a sharp note from a horn rang out seemingly from all directions at once. The sharpness of the horn's sound rises as the tone grows it becomes the clear sound of a howl. it was such a clear and sharp note that froze the battlefield, Garou and Femori alike. In that pause it brought for the remaining white howlers it brought a forth a spark recollection. It brought an energy that revitalized the remaining warrior's hearts with hope and their bodies with power. Their call for aid had been answered! But by whom?

That was a Horn of the North, but are they white howler horns? Confused but hopeful they looked up eagerly to catch a glimpse of their would be allies and potential saviors coming from the Northeast end of the pit. What they saw was a ghost in their minds, their eyes deceive them, an impossibility. They did not see the Tribe Get of Fenris, not the Tribe Silver Fangs, Nor the proud Tribe Fianna, It was not they who came forward through the darkness unto this this dismal and forlorn battlefield. They did not come forward to save the hundreds of kinfolk and garou who had be lost in the underground, those few whom did not sucome to the plagues. It was not the Garou tribes that had pledged their aid to the white howlers against the black spiral dancers and their femori allies. They were White Howlers.. They have white furs dawning their shoulders they have banners flying Proud with a variation of their tribe sigil. The silhouette of great beasts could be seen, Their Long teeth gleaning and powerful legs digging into the dirt in anticipation. Cheers erupted from the Southern White Howlers as the Horns of these new White howlers rang out again this time almost in direct defiance seemingly directed to the Fomorian general itself warning him they had come and with its impending doom.

Fianna

Silver Fang

Get of Fenris

The Horns were joined by a chorus wolf and bear howls, not to be outdone the humans erupt in a great cheer, diminishing any other noises. the collection of sound became so deafening a sound that it sent chills of terror to creatures that fear not. The Southern white Howlers braced for battle and watching the new army gather are stunned and amazed as the have never before seen Gurhal and Garou under the same banner yet along claiming to be of the same tribel. Yet they could not deny their eyes. The Fomori stepped back in hesitation, knowing no fear but understanding death. The cacophony of sound snapped the Southern White howlers from their awe. As they refocused to the newly arrived army they became Inspired at the sight of this sea of fur clad warriors coming to their aid. At the tip of the spear strode a small woman who possessed a presence of command and power that was well beyond her diminutive frame. Her hair shown like silver streaks of moonlight her eyes shined like a roaring fire in darkness, even in the dim light of the setting sun it is obviously that she has a deep cut across her face, which does little to diminish her beauty and does much to increase her presence. She pauses, her gaze surveys the field of battle with a practiced eye, her gaze is stern, focused and hinting at experience well beyond her apparent years. In her hands she easily turns about a great sword in anticipation and though it is significantly larger than she, it moves with an ease that shows strength greatly beyond her supple frame.

Taerlach and her mighty band of warriors lumber forward toward the embattled tribe as if still waiting for the right moment to strike. Their fervor and passion gaining extra edge of power at the sight of their kin, beaten, battered, death all around them. But Not broken. The Southern White Howlers had clearly been pressed to their limits. Seeing this Taerlach called out in a voice that boomed well beyond her stature. "These are our Kin, let nothing stand before us, my brothers and sisters! Secure our people!! Einherjarian to me!" Taerlach's ranks surge forward with great purpose, the lines of The Einherjarian forces moved as a wave of death at her command, an impressive host of warriors. As the Last rays of light. Taerlach pauses for just a moment as the last rays of light fad from the sky with a thoughtful look upon her face.

Night, the landscape for that which evil thrives in darkness. The time of Demonic Fomori, Vampires, and Spirits. When the Shroud is at its weakest. With the last of the setting light the Fomori who to this point was confused with the new arrivals show of force steeled themselves and attacked both Tribes. Extending themselves out toward both directions Fighting on two fronts. The fomarch bellows "Your time has passed this is our time the time in the shadow, this is pitch, this is the time of demons." The fomarch had little to fear, he thought. "These simple mortals will fall before me and my kind. We are the masters of darkness we will snuff out your lights"

Or Are they the masters of Darkness? From behind trees shadows spawn warriors as if spat from the darkness itself, heavily armoured beings all with Ice blue eyes almost glowing through their helms visors clad in matching white furs white furs. Curiously none armed with any swords, spears or shields common of their Norse kind. Among this large group of warriors, One warrior stood clearly. He was one of the most massive of humanoids one could describe. A Towering Hulk of flesh and armour, They came from the west moving with a fluid grace and speed that defies logic. Their Group cuts a sharp angle to meet with the main host of the New White howler army. cheers arise as if friendships have reclaimed anew.. Families reunited. Promises of great joy and celebration after this "trivial" war.

The Massive Leader of the new warriors calls attention to himself as he moves to the front of the army. this man lumbers to Taerlach's side with the grace and speed of a cat and the size of a mountain. She turned and smiled genuinely at him, betraying everything about her thoughts of him in one moment. Then their forces combine. He takes a quick moment to chide "I do not believe they understand their time in this world is at an end" he smiles at her softly, and she looks up at him. He is not a garou, nor is he fera at all. Yet He stands eye to eye with many of the garou Hispo and Crinos who were in her ranks.. Only her Brave Gurahl tower over her lover, and not by much. Einherjar has piercing unnatural orbs of ice blue oceans, a blonde beard covering most of his pale white face. He winks at his beloved, "be well my dear may you find glory and victory" and with not another word together they charge fearlessly into the Fomori lines with their eclectic group of warriors.

EinherJar and his people battling to the left of Taerlach, moving at speed that can hardly be measured by the mortal eye and unnatural strength even compared to those monsters present. On her Right the Crinos war machines charged in. her center, Mortal Tribesmen armed with shields and spears. Together They cut deep into the Fomori ranks clearing a path directly to the Fomorian leader. once her army punched through the demonic line they create a ring so that Taerlach could face off against the Fomorian in single combat.

Her form has changed, her armour and armaments magically shaping along with her body, no longer the form of a small Norse warrior but now a massive Silver Crinos with a familiar scar still across its face and holding the great sword now in one hand. She strides forward with the grace of birds playing on the rising winds, and the power of a hurricane. The silver sword glimmers and shines brightly in the fire light. Standing now before the demon she challenges him with out a word, her body language alone displaying her intent. The Demon Master roared and charged in, thinking to dispatch her quickly and make an example of her to her people, with her sword at the ready they engage. This was of course the last roar made by the demonic Fomorian. Though the Battle continued to rage around the leaders even though some paused to witness the spectacle of one on one combat. Almost without effort she easily dispatches the mighty beast. The effect of her victory however was clear, the tribe cheeres as their champion felled the great demon, furthering their battle furor. Her guards now satisfied with the victory procured by their leader they then turn their attention to the remaining beleaguered Souther White Howlers and used their formation to create a protective ring around their suffering orphaned tribe mates and as their ranks intertwined and reformed they became one. Not just in that moment, but in their hearts, because from hence forth they are one tribe.

Together they pushed the Fomori back into the deep dark depths of the pit the remaining shaman working furiously to close the rift. Sealing the Realm of Malfeas having lost a door to the Mortal world the Wyrm ever patient plotted and waited for their turn to rise again, knowing that many agents still remained in the Mortal's world.

Aftermath

Most of the Eldest of the Southern White Howlers had perished in the great battle. The few Elders that remained had not the heart to question their saviors and their choice of vampire kinfolk. Not that Taerlach would have heard any of it. Their Saviors, who called themselves Ostmen or Einherjarian by others had offered them sanctuary in their tribe, had offered family, and given blood and closed the rift. The Ice blue warriors giving rights over the dead, some rising to rejoin the ranks, some sent off to Valhalla. As one they moved further into the lands in the north to rebuild, to cultivate, to watch and wait for the return of the Wyrm.

To the rest of the world, the White Howlers perished and died in an attempt to stop the Wyrm. And either Died or succumbed to darkness

Future generations claim that the rift at the Pit remains inactive. though some claim it still a weak point between worlds. Where It is assumed to be closed to this day...