The Prophecy of the Pheonix
The First Sign.
Man hunts the wolf, not for food or protection, but fear. For thousands of years they were aided by the wyrm to destroy it’s chief combatant. The Wolf. Now even their kinfolk are in danger as the forces of the corrupter begin to wage war on every facet of life and eat away at the precious resources that the tribes yet hold.
The Second Sign.
Man has overpopulated the earth. There are billions born every thirteen years. Man begins to choke out all of the natural resources that Gaia has yet to offer. Yet, Garou in their dwindling numbers begin to have difficulty conceiving, and the children that survive are only kin… as far as the tribes know. There is yet one pair that has managed to pass on their genes to eight of their ten children… proving that Gaia still favors some or perhaps her eyesight is focused on what she could once not see.
The Third Sign.
Wyrm and Weaver do battle on every level of our worlds. Humanity builds larger and more destructive weapons and plays out their conflict on the human stage. Full out wars build on every border as the threat of nuclear exchange looms. Gaia weeps.
The Fourth Sign.
Plague. With the onset of biological weapons, disease spreads around the globe, from Sars to Ebola and more. Pentex develops a bacterial infection that can even render a mighty Ahroun weak and tired. ROBBI, or Rapid Onset Bacterial Bronchial Infection attacks the respiratory process and makes it difficult to breath due to massive production of mucus. It’s difficult to treat and resists the supernatural healing of the Garou making it the perfect weapon.
The Fifth Sign.
The prophecy of the pheonix is one that most Garou children learn around the fires as a cautionary tale of what is to come. It continues as they begin to learn to fight the Wyrm as a story of what is to come… as the signs begin to appear is becomes the surety of what is. The plumes of death. Most believe them to be the plumes of smoke create by factories and missiles as larger and greater swaths of land are destroyed by the wyrm and man. The cries of ‘jobs before trees’ echo in the wounds of Gaia’s flesh as they cut away at everything that makes her beautiful and forge a path to her ultimate destruction.
The Sixth Sign.
Gaia’s rage begins to boil as her agony cuts through the crust of the globe like a hot knife as her blood spews forth on Iceland, Japan, and all over the globe.
Travel through the umbra becomes treacherous as it prepares for the final battle that is still yet to come.
The Desperate one. No one knows where the story truly came from, but the children of Gaia know the tale. Whispers of a prophecy of a man, not born of the Litany would would save them all from the coming end.
A hero of legend who would break every rule of the Litany and through it, ‘triumph’ in the Apocalypse. The Metis begin to hold to this as a hope that they will be redeemed through this Garou and that the tribes would come to know that only in breaking of the LItany would the nation as a whole survive. It is impossible to tell if this Garou has even come to be or will ever. But in the night, when the moon does not shine, stories are told of a white wolf with black eyes that was reborn… a remnant of a broken past. A dark secret that the Shadow Lords would extinguish.
In nineteen hundred and ninety nine, a red star appeared in the umbral sky, Anthelios. And had one Elizabeth Fleming not been in labor with her second child, a daughter, she might have been filled with a sense a dread. It was only days later when she peered beneath the veil that the house in New York would come to know what it meant.
(First person excerpt of Elizabeth (Beth) Fleming’s Journal)
The red star was the beginning of the end. First came the fall of the official face of the NWO. Pentex. Their leaders were said to have walked into a meeting and simply vanished. Those inclined tried to replay the visions of what had occurred only to be blinded or driven insane by it’s visage and never spoke of what they saw. Then the rumblings of an increased spiral presence in the old world. Rumors of attacks on the Fianna had sent them running, and fortifying what was theirs. Two of their scottish caerns were destroyed.
It’s Two Thousand and Four, the troubles had been brewing for years, the mortals could see the star now and even they felt something changing in the winds. Friends drifted away, and those once called family began to avoid phone calls and ignore letters. Apparently being friends with Kinfolk wasn’t as fun as your sire, the vampire. Not that I’m bitter, just—hurt. Mother Larrissa was murdered a few nights ago. I haven’t told any of the Gnawers, but we are leaving in the morning. Abel and I have decided it’s not safe here for our growing brood…and with another on the way I’d prefer it weren’t born here in the city. Not anymore.
We’ve moved the children to the island off the coast of California. The wards are in place and the faeries are fine with our occasional vampire visitors. By fine I mean that she only complains three times per visit now about the smell. We have five pups now, and yes, I think they will all turn, the first two already have. The other three have a temper like their father and as they are all boys… it’s been thrilling and interesting for me. I’ve warded this place more times than I can count and we only travel by moonbridge or mirror… the the bridges are harder to use… the umbra isn’t as safe as it used to be.
We have suitors from the Children of Gaia, Get and Furies coming regularly. I think the girls fancy a few of them which will make their packs happy, especially if they produce pups. The Fainna that have shown interest have chosen to stay with us here. Apparently they think there is something different about the land… they’ve had children too, but it’s too early to tell if they will turn. We try and keep my Revenant blood a secret, I’ve even learned to disguise my scent. It’s been passed along to the children though, so they are naturally stronger and faster than others their age. My only hope is that we can continue to keep this secret and prepare for what is to come. Viola and Percy are coming at sundown, hopefully they will stay for a time.
I wrote Angus again. More a warning than a request. The war is coming, one unlike anything that will every come again. A plea that he stay safe. I hope that he at very least chooses to open this one. I enclosed one of my pins, so that I could be sure he was at least alive, or as much as he has been in a very long time.