Ancestral Tales and Wisdom

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Ancestral Tales and Wisdom

These are the collated stories of Ancestors, one from each Garou Tribe that I found and persuaded to tell something of their Tribe’s values or history. I bring these tales back to you and share the warning I see held within. I do not vouch for the truth of the tales, only that they were truthfully told to me with witnesses. I thank Arbiter of Malice, Tsomo, Darius, Harry & Liam for being willing to accompany me as my witnesses and patron me on my Rank Quest for Athro.

I present these thirteen stories now as evidence of my efforts to fill my Athro Challenge. I challenged with permission of Oak Vale’s Master of Challenge, Falcons Grasp of Truth of the Silver Fangs. Arbiter of Malice of the Get of Fenris has accepted I have proven myself to his satisfaction as the one I Challenged and has performed the Rite of Accomplishment as witnessed and accepted at my Sept. I am now Deed Named Ancestral Wisdom.

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Black Furies
(Story of primal mysticism, feminism, protection of the weak and innocent).

A legend passed down through generations of women tells the story of an enchanted island invisible from the lakeshore.

A passageway of solidified moonlight leading from a rock to the island opens for all worthy travellers each Summer solstice for one night only, from dusk to dawn. Those who had the courage to pass through the doorway would find themselves in a beautiful garden on an island inhabited by young mystical maidens that would divine your fate or give one answer to one question.

The Women would play enchanting music, tell stories of past and future events, and present visitors with exquisite flowers and luscious tasty fruit. Shower a trusted visitor with jewels and fine soft clothing the weight of such is not felt on the skin. But each guest was told nothing must be taken from the island, or they would never go home or return.

But one Summer Solstice, a greedy visitor placed a jewel he had been presented within his pocket. When he emerged from the rock the jewel vanished and he lost all his senses and he wonders lost in the mists of the mountains and time. Since that day, the door to the island has never opened except to the pure of heart and innocent.

This shows that no matter who you visit or how you get there, follow their laws and heed their rules when in their territory. For friends can soon become your curse if angered.

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Bone Gnawers
(Story of survival, cunning, freedom).

There once came, what of late has happened so often, a hard year. When the crops failed, there was beggary and misfortune from one end of the island to the other. At that time many poor people had to quit the country from want of employment. Among others, John Green was under the necessity of going over to England, to try if he could get work; and of leaving his wife and family behind him.

John was a smart young fellow, handy at any work, from the hay field to the stable, to the law of the land and willing to earn the bread he ate; and he was soon engaged by a gentleman. Not to be paid until the end of the year, and he was to forfeit the entire twelve guineas in the lump if he misconducted himself in any way. The wages were fairly won for his good behaviour.

"Well, John," said the gentleman, "you have earned your twelve guineas, and you have been, in every respect, so good a servant, that, if you are agreeable, I intend giving you what is worth your wages ten times over, in place of them. But you shall have your choice. Will you take what I offer, on my word"? John saw no reason to think that his master was jesting with him, or insincere and, therefore, he would accept the offer.

"Then listen attentively to my words," said the gentleman. "First, I would teach you this: Never to take a by-road when you have the highway. Secondly: Take heed not to lodge in the house where an old man is married to a young woman. And thirdly: Remember that honesty the best policy.

John set out for home the next morning early, but he had not proceeded far before he overtook two pedlars who were travelling the same way. He entered into conversation with them and found them a pair of merry fellows, who proved to be excellent company on the road. Presently towards the end of their day's journey, they came to a wood, through which there was a path that shortened the distance to the town they were going towards. The pedlars advised John to go with them through the wood; but he refused to leave the highway, telling them, at the same time, he would meet them again at a certain house in the town where travellers put up.

John was willing to try the worth of the advice which his master had given him, and he arrived in safety and took up his quarters at the appointed place. While he was eating his supper, an old man came hobbling into the kitchen and gave orders about different matters there, and then went out again. Immediately after, a young woman, young enough to be the old man's daughter, came in, and gave orders exactly the contrary of what the old man had given, calling him, at the same time, such as old fool, and old dotard, and so on. When she was gone, John inquired who the old man was.

"He is the landlord," said the servant; "and, heaven help him! A dog's life has he led since he married his young wife." John, thinking of his second given advice remembered not to remain in the house that night and made to move to the stables. He met the two pedlars, all cut and bleeding, coming in, for they had been robbed and almost murdered in the wood. John was very sorry to see them in that condition and advised them not to lodge in the house. But the poor pedlars were so weary and bruised having no time for advice wanted their promised soft beds as a reward.

John retired to the stable and laid himself down upon a bundle of straw, where he slept soundly for some time. About the middle of the night, he heard two persons come into the stable, and on listening to their conversation, discovered that it was the landlady and a man, laying a plan how to murder her husband. Seeing the trouble this was to lead, John left at first light.

At the next town he came to, he was told that the landlord in the town he had left had been murdered and that two pedlars, whose clothes were found all covered with blood, had been taken up for the crime, and were going to be hanged. John, without mentioning what he had overheard to any person, determined to save the pedlars if possible, and so returned, in order to attend their trial.

Ongoing into the court, he saw the two men at the bar, and the young woman and the man whose voice he had heard in the stable, swearing their innocents. But the judge allowed him to give his evidence, and he told every particular of what had occurred. The man and the young woman instantly confessed their guilt; the poor pedlars were at once acquitted; and the judge ordered a large reward to be paid to honest John Green, as through his means the real murderers were brought to justice.

John proceeded towards home, fully convinced of the value of the three pieces of advice which his master had given him. On arriving at his cabin he found his wife and children rejoicing over a purse full of gold, which the eldest boy had picked up on the road that morning. "And where did Mick my boy, find it," inquired John.

"It was the young squire, for certain, who dropped it," said his wife, "for he rode down the road this morning, and was leaping his horse in the very gap where Micky picked it up; but sure, John, he has money enough, besides, and never the halfpenny have I to buy my poor childer a bit to eat this blessed night."

"Never mind that," said John. "Do as I bid you, and take up the purse at once to the big house, and ask for the young squire. I have two cakes which I brought every step of the way with me from England, and they will do for the children's supper. I ought surely to remember, as good right I have, what my master told me for my twelve months' wages, Straightways John’s wife went to the big house, and inquired for the young squire; but she was denied the liberty to speak to him.

"You must tell me your business, honest woman," said the servant, with a head all powdered and frizzled like a cauliflower, and who had on a coat covered with gold and silver lace and buttons, and everything in the world”.

"I am an honest woman, for I've brought a purse full of gold to the young master; for surely it is his; as nobody else could have so much money." Replied the wife.

"Let me see it," said the servant. "Ay, it's all right. I'll take care of it. You need not trouble yourself any more about the matter;" and so saying, he slammed the door in her face.

When she returned, her husband produced the two cakes which his master gave him on parting; and breaking one to divide between his children, how was he astonished to find six guineas, in it; and when he took the other and broke it, he found as many more. He then remembered the words of his generous master, who desired him to give one of the cakes to his wife, and not to eat the other himself until that time; and this was the way his master took to conceal his wages, lest he should have been robbed, or have lost the money on the road.

The following day, as John was standing near his cabin door and turning over in his own mind what he should do with his money, the young squire came riding down the road. John pulled off his hat, for he had not forgotten his manners for his superiors, through the means of travelling to foreign parts, and then made so bold as to inquire if his honour had got the purse he lost.

"Why, it is true enough, my good fellow," said the squire, "I did lose my purse yesterday, and I hope you were lucky enough to find it; for if that is your cabin, you seem to be very poor, and shall keep it as a reward for your honesty." "Then the servant at the big house never gave it to you last night, after taking it from Nance -- she's my wife, your honour -- and telling her it was all right?" "Oh, I must look into this business," said the squire. "Did you say your wife, my poor man, gave my purse to a servant -- to what servant?" "I can't tell his name rightly," said John, "because I don't know it, but never trust Nance's eye again if she can't point him out to your honour if so your honour is desirous of knowing." "Then do you and Nance, as you call her, come up to the hall this evening, and I'll inquire into the matter, I promise you." So saying, the squire rode off.

John and his wife went up accordingly in the evening, and he gave a small rap with the big knocker at the great door. The door was opened by a grand servant, who, without hearing what the poor people had to say, exclaimed, "Oh, go! -- go! what business can you have here?" and shut the door.

John's wife burst out a crying. "There," said she, so sobbing as if her heart would break. "I knew that would be the end of it with none here to help and listen to us".

But John had not been in old England merely to get his twelve guineas packed in two cakes. "No," said he, firmly; "right is right, and I'll see the end of it." So he sat himself down on the steps of the door, determined not to go until he had seen the young squire, and as it happened, it was not long before he came out.

"I have been expecting you for some time, John," said he; "come in and bring your wife in;" and he made them go before him into the house. Immediately he directed all the servants to come upstairs, and such an army of them as there was! It was a real sight to see them. "Which of you," said the young squire, without making further words, "which of you all did this honest woman give my purse too?" but there was no answer. "Well, I suppose she must be mistaken unless she can tell herself."

John's wife at once pointed her finger towards the head footman; "there he is," said she, "if all the world were in the fore -- a clergyman, magistrate, judge, jury and all. There he is, and I am ready to take my sworn-oath to him. There he is who told me it was all right when he took the purse, and slammed the door in my face, without as much as thank ye for it." The conscious footman turned pale.

"What is this I hear?" said his master. "If this woman gave you my purse, William, why did you not give it to me?" The servant stammered out a denial, but his master insisted on his being searched, and the purse was found in his pocket. "John," said the gentleman, turning around, "you shall be no loser by this affair. Here are ten guineas for you; go home now, but I will not forget your wife's honesty."

Within a month John Green was settled in a nice new-slated house, which the squire had furnished and made ready for him. What with his wages, and the reward he got from the judge, and the ten guineas for returning the purse, he was well to do in the world, and was soon able to stock a little farm, where he lived respected all his days. On his deathbed, he gave his children the very three pieces of advice which his master had given him on parting.

With that, the Ancestor Galliard of the Bone Gnawers named "Paddreen Trelah" or Paddy the Vagabond, from his wandering life, ceased his tale and looked at us to see if we understood. The tale is certainly very ancient and has probably found its way from many different cultures. Though it appears to be an amplification of a Bardic "Triad of Wisdom."

  • Never to take a by-road when they could follow the highway. Seeking a shortcut leads to trouble.
  • Never to lodge in a house where an old man was married to a young woman without knowing the reason or being cautious of your actions.
  • And, above all, to remember that honesty is the best policy to lead to Honour for someone will find out your lies and you will be worse for it.

And I shall add my own personal fourth, if you ask a Galliard for a tale, no matter the Tribe, make sure you want to sit and hear it all, and not to expect a short version.

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Children of Gaia
(Story of Peace, healing & acceptance).

There was once two children of different families who were the best of friends. As they grew older they followed others words and deed and not their friendship. These others separated them and caused them to fight. One friend killed all the Family of the other's wife. And in turn, the second friend fought back with tales of lies to imprison and punish the other unjustly.

These two former friends wives came together to work on rebuilding the community they all belonged to. Again and again, the wives of the men found themselves working on the same field, one with a spade and another with the barrow. None achieving anything until they came together. Their work carefully wove reconciliation into all their activities until in time their children became friends and helped alongside.

The hatred of these two families could have continued for generation after generation were it not for the peace and healing that came from the acceptance of others making the first step of forgiveness and sharing of limited resources and skills to get the job done for survival. A community that can learn to forgive and work together for a common goal will be stronger than being alone. Find friends, family and pack you can work with to have a better chance to succeed.

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Get of Fenris
(Story of Heroism, Fighting prowess & survival)

The old broken-boned and sacred warrior sat with his drinking horn and biting into the haunch of a fresh kill. He spoke with fondness of his acceptance into his Tribe. He had spent his day since dawn climbing up a rocky mountain at the end of a moon long stay in the wilderness. At last, the time of his ‘homecoming’ had arrived and all he had left to do was to reach the top plateau where his people waited. He grinned at us, of course, it was blowing up a storm that day with winds cold enough so high to freeze the brass … door knobs off. He winks at us.

Continuing he explained his fingers bleeding raw from all the cuts of the sharp rocks and crevasses, a broken collarbone from an earlier fall, a swollen shut eye from having been clawed by the eagle as he reached in to collect an unbroken feather from her nest. He did not say why that was a requirement but just grinned with a twinkle in his remaining eye when we asked. As he pulled himself over the ridge at his finish point relaxing to marshall his strength for standing and triumphantly greeting his Tribe, the mountain ledge collapsed and he fell down again. He was unable to finish his story for laughing. Finally, when he was able to talk again he said it was the easiest day of his life and had us all toast to his successes as he put an unbroken eagle feather back in his cap.

Just when you think you have finished and have time to relax watch out for harder surprises on your climb to the top. The end is not always where you think it to be. So hold on to what is precious to your goal and as many ups and downs you have, continue on, for there is always something harder to do in the future and today is the easy one for it is done. Don’t forget to laugh, it eases the pain.

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Glass Walkers
(Story of Adaptability, forward-thinking, living amongst humanity).

There is a tale of a two-headed Spector that travelled on the dark fog filled nights around the valley from Pub to each cottage of the valley. It is said the poor man was lost on his way home and fell down the cliff and split open his head so hard it fell in twain. Those with guilt who feared to encounter the spectre refused to leave their homes after dark on such nights thereafter unless “some urgent necessity compels them”.

On one such night, there was an urgent need to be out late. What that need was will remain with his wife, his lover and himself. This drunken miner on the early morning shift how had stayed out a little overlong with being unable to enter his home, his Wife having locked him out. So back to the pub he went, to give one or the other of the women time to cool off and let him in either of their homes again. A ‘true believer in apperations’ he paid the price for his tardiness and cheating ways.

“He had no alternative but to pass the haunted spot, or to have a night’s parade in the chilly air. Not liking the latter option, he determined to proceed despite his dread. He went on courageously until within a few yards of his hoped-for warm bed when he fancied he could see something – he paused, and lo! it was no less than the dreaded phantom.

“He could not speak: neither could he move backward nor forward – he remained transfixed to the spot for several seconds, but as soon as he thought the spectre was disappearing, he made a desperate effort, and reached the house, wherein he repeated undefinable prayers to his preserver for opening the door to him. His feelings and begging for the remainder of the night can be imagined better than described”.

The following day, he attempted to walk to work as normal. But the event had proven to be too traumatic, and feeling weak, he was forced to sit down in a “fainting state, the fright all over him still, making him dizzy and ill”. Fortunately, his colleague was heading in the same direction, and when he saw his fallen comrade he assisted him home to rest on his ‘deathbed’ until he was recovered the following day. Many a night now in the same pub, his tale earns him a pint from a stranger on foggy dark nights.

Sometimes even the most ridiculous story can get you out of trouble with your wife, a day off work with a hangover and pay for future nights drinking all in one. We left the ancestor with smiles on our faces to continue our hunt. I could swear though that a brief glance back I saw the ancestor turn away with two heads, or should I say one split in twain. It was foggy by now and I couldn’t be exactly sure. So you should always listen to the ridiculous with an ‘open mind’ in case it is true.

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(story of Passion, family, & Celtic mysticism).

This was the story of an Ancestor of the Fianna Tribe. I will not say his name for it often calls him, and it is not something I would deliberately do to another of my Tribe without a strong need to. There was once a wolf born and his passion and anger were so riled that he spent many years hating and killing. His hatred turned inward on his own mind corrupted and turned him crazy and he was unreasonable in his vengeance. Always to have a reason as to why he should kill yet even more humans, even those not directly responsible for the crimes against him. His hatred led to his own death too soon.

Passion for the right cause is just and honourable. But even justice taken too far and too long can corrupt without you ever noticing the danger. Accept the aid of your Pack and Family to help keep your passion pure and wise as you follow your calling. Do not lose yourself to the task taken hold but stay true and pure so you can finish in honour.

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Red Talons
(story of Rage, primal existence, animalistic).

Some time ago, the Ancestral wolf’s primal stare accused us, there were free places to run for days without the stench of humans in the air. He took us for a run through fields and forests. Over deserts of sand and snow. Splashing through the cooling clean fresh water to quench our thirst. Hunting when we were hungry and moving on. To look up at the stars and at bright Luna and have your heart be refreshed by the peace flooding into you. Suddenly the run stopped and a city blocked the path. We turned to another direction and ran again. This time there were oil spills and contaminated or dead prey, all the food for our hungry bellies disappeared. This happened over and over with all directions being closed and trapping us in by some form of destruction or sign of humanity. Rage filled our hearts but there was nowhere to release our fury… We wait for some time... The wolf turned to us again a growl of warning and impatience and ran off leaving us alone and lost to find our own way to paths that all led into crowded cities and that hide the sky's beauty from us. We forgot how to move as fast as the wolf in the wyld free places and he vanished from our sight as the light of the city blinded us and we lost the refreshing light of Luna in our hearts.

Run free so you remember the joy of it and don’t forget to live not just exist. The free wyld places need our help to survive or we will not only lose them but also a part of our souls too.

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Shadow Lords
(A story of strength, ends justifying the means, manipulation).

A long time ago, a Leech ruled over a human settlement. He was cruel, and cunning, and ancient. He had killed a warrior of the Shadow Lords many generations before and kept as his prize a mighty Fetish. The Shadow Lords wanted it back. But they knew they could not just storm his keep, for it was guarded by his servants during the day, and the vampire was too powerful to take head-on, and he never left the safety of the keep. So they waited. And they planned.

For three generations, the Shadow Lords, bit by bit, married their Kin to the farmers surrounding the keep, whose fields fed the mortal servants of the Leech. And one day, once they deemed enough of the farmers were loyal to them and not the Leech, the Tribe called upon spirits of fire to burn the fields, while the Kin sowed the ground with salt.

And then they left, retreating to the woods to harry any travellers or suppliers that would approach the settlement. They did so for a year and a day before returning to the keep. The human servants had fled, fearing starvation as much as the wrath of the leech lord. Those that had remained had been drained by the leech as it grew more and more desperate for blood. The Shadow Lords found the ancient thing, a desiccated corpse in the bowels of the keep, where the sun could not reach. They removed its head, reclaimed their Fetish, and tore down the keep, as a warning to any other undead that would dare to face the Shadow Lords again.

This is to show that whatever it takes, no matter the cost, waiting, remembering and patience sometimes wins out in the end. Reckless hot-headed actions aren’t always the answer.

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Silent Striders
(a story of travel, death, loss & hope).

While we searched for months no Ancestor of the Silent Striders could be found. We approached an old Elder of the Silent Striders that was travelling in the umbra on his own quest. With sadness and loss in his eyes told us our search was unfulfillable. That all the Ancestors of his tribe were gone, lost to travel and death or contact ever again with their tribe due to an ancient vanquished enemy in the Tribes history.

He continued to tell a story of a Cow and a bridge. He began by describing a prized cow, of beauty and producer of rich creamy milk that belonged to a blind old woman of Wales. One could go so far as to think of it as a Golden Cow once sacred to many in Egypt. The cow was the only one for miles around and helped the villages provide milk and cheeses. Without it the old woman and the village were doomed to a harsh winter, perhaps even causing the death of the youngest and old from starvation.

The cow was lost on the other side of the river and the old blind woman couldn’t get across to bring it safely home as the river was flooded. There was no bridge and the stepping stones being washed down the river, scattered and unreachable.

After spending the storm, sheltering with the old woman he promised to bring back her cow. Off he went to find a way across the river and to bring the cow back. By the time he made it to the other side and all the way back to the cow, he could see the old woman was talking to the Devil. In a bid to buy the woman’s soul, The Devil promised the old blind woman he would build a bridge in exchange for the life of the first living thing to cross. Being old the woman agreed for the sake of the village. Her dilemma being to give herself for gaining the so much needed Cow she was trying to save.

The Devil weaved his magic and up arose a stone bridge. But before the woman could cross a wolf sprang from the bushes on the other side of the bridge giving himself to death for the old woman, and the cow and the village.

It is said the Devil has not visited that village since because of his embarrassment of losing to an old blind woman and her ‘dog’. The bridge still stands and the villagers use it to bring their cows home from pasture by tradition and honour of that long ago sacrifice.

From this, we learn that even if a bargain is made, a promise given, or even a curse issued, sometimes things are more important than living to see it through, but community lives on without us if it can be protected and our actions and choices can affect others much longer than we expect.

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Silver Fangs
(A story of Pride, Leadership & Tradition).

We found ourselves in a grand hall, flanked on all sides by warriors in functional, yet ornate armour. Seated on the throne is a man, his age near impossible to tell thanks to Silver Fang longevity, dressed in regal clothing, a circlet on his brow. It was easy to see the similar appearance features between this Ancestor before us and one of our travelling seekers. Such happenstance occurs often in the umbra many Theurge tell me.

The Silver Fang King and our companion, Darius, were peas from the same pod stock. Looking across from each other they could be twins of the same birth, of which this was obvious to us all. The most noticeable difference between them is their eyes; Darius’ eyes are storm grey, the Ancestor Spirits are an emerald green.

Darius glared at the Ancestor with naked hatred, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. The Ancestor spirit doesn’t seem to notice and introduces himself as Jacob Morningkill, the King of House Wyrmfoe. He tells the tale of his rise to power, how he consolidated the Silver Fangs in North America and lead them to greatness until he was betrayed and murdered by jealous subordinates. The account of the tale gets a snort of derision from Darius, which does not go unnoticed by Jacob, who makes his way down from his throne and stands before the young Ahroun.

“You have something to add, Great-Grandson?”

“Aside from the fact that you went mad with power, exiled all who disagreed with you, and nearly ruined our House? No, nothing Great-Grandfather,” Darius replies, holding his Ancestor’s gaze. Sighing, I begin to see where my difficulty in diplomacy might lay in this meeting.

Ancestor Jacobs eyes flash with rage, and he hoists the young Silver Fang up by the front of his shirt. Darius gestures for his companions to stay back as Jacob rages at him, spittle flying from the spirit’s mouth as he shrieks.

“You know nothing of kingship, fool! Nothing! None of them were worthy! None of them deserved to serve me! They were traitors, failures, weaklings! I should have killed everyone one of them before they betrayed me!”

Jacob pulls Darius close, the two practically nose to nose.

“You would know something of failure, wouldn’t you!? If not for your dalliance with that whore of a Strid-”

His words are cut off as Darius’ fist crashes into his face, hurling the stunned spirit to the floor. Rage and murder flash in Darius’ eyes as he glares down at the spirit, his hand falling to the hilt of his blade again as he begins to draw it forth.

I stepped between the two, for I was the cause of this meeting and should at least attempt to reconcile the two Silver Fang, one Dead one living while there was still a chance of peace. Being Irish myself and having kissed the blarney stone it took much talk and persuasion to bring the heat down from the brink of impassioned fighting.

After calming down, Darius glares at each of the other Ancestor Spirits in the room. “Jacob’s madness nearly destroyed our House. And your cowardice let him. House Wyrmfoe will never again fall to the level it in your day. I will not allow it.”

From this tale and encounter, we learn that family can hate each other beyond death but should not air their laundry in mixed company. Internal relations are best handled after wine and meat to show tradition and understanding. Be willing to hear both sides of a tale before drawing the sword for blood. Passion colours our minds so we only hear what we want to. Don’t jump to the defence of the first side you hear.

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(A Story of Balance, control & insight).

There is a distant mountaintop, in the Umbra, one that is said to scrape the ceiling of all that is or was or will ever be. On one of the mountain’s plateaus, swathed in wintry winds and ancient furs, a woman sits. She is Sees The Distance, and the words of Luna say she was at the founding of Shigalu Monastery. Sees The Distance tells the story of Gaia in the distant past, of a time when the Triat was in balance, and the Garou knew peace.

This shows that even when things change so much so as to be unrecognisable, the past can still give us clarity and insight to help us find a balanced control into the future if we are strong enough to hold the course.

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(A story of Curiosity, Secrets & Mysticism).

Once there was a boat and a young sailor sat within that boat alone. Following his longing, he sailed the seas of his curiosity until all sight of land was lost. A storm crashed him around the waves until the young sailor thought he would be drowned. He awoke to see three beautiful women standing over him on a golden beach and clear blue skies above. For many years he stayed with the women and they accepted him into their hearts and to the warmth at their fires. He was taught their language, and the ways of their universe. He helped raise his many children in the separate knowledge of those women's skills so they would not be forgotten. Later when he had built a new boat he was saddened his wives and children would not come with him but he promised to return. The women and his children carried the boat with him to the sands where he set sail into the blue waters again. In payment for the kindness that the women gave him, he kept their secrets and his vow of silence not to betray their ways but to try to help others with this knowledge to make the stormy seas safe for all to sail. Until he was betrayed. He may still sail the seas looking for his paradise lost.

Knowing knowledge does not mean it can not be lost if you forget your past and lose your way. You may not always be able to return if you travel too far from your Family, but you should never stop trying.

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(A story of Hatred, purity, isolation).

There within the snowy blizzard, we came upon two that looked almost identical but for their ages. One could have been the Son of the other but was instead a visiting direct blood relative. With the snow and the ice cold biting winds stinging our eyes the Ancestor of the Wendigo Tribe and the younger turned to us at our approach. The younger speaking up for us and acting as our interpreter so the Ancestor would at least hear our request and not dismiss us without a word heard. The Ancestor told us his story.

As Elder at the time, Talks with Pines was a fairly territorial Wendigo Theurge of the Washoe tribe. Hunting, fishing, giving advice to the younger warriors, and hearing more and more of the tales of taint they came across each moon gathering. He heard, then saw personally that many had trudged through his lands bringing impurity and the corruption of greed into his homelands. The Elder visioned and dream spoke with many spirits of his birth land and of the crisp clear air and knew something had to be done to protect the spirits, his lands and people from Taint the outsiders would bring.

Upon hearing that a large group of Weaver and Wyrm tainted individuals were going to be going through his land yet again he made a plan. He vacated his home fires and sent his family and tribe members to areas of the best shelter. Giving them instructions to gather provisions and fuel for a long harsh winter, those that followed his instructions survived where others incurring his wrath and purging cold did not. He left his family and set out into the wilderness alone, strong and stoic in his belief that he would succeed or die to try.

Talks with Pines called upon the spirits of the West Wind and of Wyndigo to purge this outsider and a tainted group from his lands. For months he gave gifts of gnosis and animal flesh, sometimes even his own flesh due to frostbite or giving his own hunted meat as a sacrifice as he worked his plans.

He called and maintained the blizzards of that so so cold and storm-filled winter of 1846. Seeking his own shelter and warmth by digging into the 10-foot snow banks he called down nature’s vengeance on the heads of his enemy. Long cold weeks and months past but he didn’t give up, his hatred of the wyrm keeping his internal fires burning and his mind pure and focused.

Notably when he and the Spirits were done tainted bones lay dead in a valley of pure covering snow. Minds cleansed that could be cleansed. Sharpened fear of the travelling caravan kept them in place while the cure was completed. Thus causing the death and ending the cannibalistic nature of the invading tainted outsiders in the Truckee mountains. Though it didn't stop the movement of the intruders permanently he did get rid of the primary taint for long while. It did slow down the flow of corruption and made Talks with Pines a legend.

This shows to us that while there is even only one able to continue the fight something can always be done. Not to give up and to find the internal fires that keep you fighting back. Death and struggle may come to us all but to choose our own path is to stay pure.

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This concludes these 13 fables told to me while questing for Ancestors.

For I am,

Naomi O’Mannion
Ancestral Wisdom, formerly Reads-The-Threads.
Athro, Bitten into the Nation as Galliard
Born of Fianna.
Talesinger of Oak Vale


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OOC: Craft 5 Author if you are reading the tale.

Player Email: Josie R
Storyteller: Liam D

Storyteller Email: staff list