Kabula giggled as she walked into the boss’ office. It looked like he’d had one of his fits again. Her packmate smacked her across the back of the head. Anger flared within and she turned to slug the arrogant little creature.
“What did I tell you about knocking?” Nuntisiwas spat, sending a chunk of glass skittering across the floor to land at the feet of his idiot henchmen. Pulling the glass shards out with his teeth was quite dramatic and it made him feel better.
“That you would cut the thumbs off the next person who failed to knock on your door before entering.” said the gore covered Philodox as he slunk in after his packmate. “However, Kabula tore the door off the hinges on our way out this morning, so there is no door and no need to knock.”
“Trust the Philodox to be absolutely literal. You could have pounded your head into the wall to announce your presence. I don’t think it would have damaged anything but the wall.” Kabula burst out laughing as F’foeg S’sap’s skin flushed a deep red. Nuntisiwas spat again, this time getting some blood into the mix. The Philodox was practically shaking with fury, grinding the teeth in his misshapen jaws together audibly. Angry thoughts flitted across his mind, striving for coherency and mostly failing.
Nuntisiwas spoke again, cutting off the metis’ train of thought. He’d seen that look of utter hatred for superiors far too many times and on far too many faces to let it go for long. “I trust you have come to report the successful completion of your mission?”
“Yes, executed flawlessly. The local Garou should be properly terrified and incensed. We made sure to kill her slowly and messily to get as much blood out of her as possible, as instructed. Now all we have to do is wait for nightfall…?” F’foeg S’sap’s voice trailed upwards, making it a question. He obviously did not like the fact that he was not privy the Nuntisiwas’ plans.
“I still think we should have partially eaten her…” Kabula added, wiping a string of drool off her jaw. She constantly salivated, but this thought clearly had some special appeal.
“I thought I told you to use a man, a fairly specific man at that.” Nuntisiwas paused in his ministrations, blood drooling out of one corner of his mouth. He quickly wiped it away when he noticed the similarity to his underling’s disgusting slobbering.
“We could not get to him, not before nightfall…” again the slight questioning tone. “So we grabbed some wench we found out alone. Ronin probably, since there was no pack with her.”
“She had a whelp though, we did that one too.” Kabula gleefully chimed in, then pointed at a tiny set of bite marks on her blood smeared forearm. They stood out clearly against her corpse white skin. “The bastard bit me too. Damn metis scum.” She looked pointedly at the Philodox as she said it, just to see his reaction. He flushed again and she could see a vein twitch in his head.
“She had a metis pup with her? How interesting.” Nuntisiwas searched his mind for a loner who would be in that area with a pup. Perhaps…? No, he’d seen her recently and it was difficult to hide such things.
“Yeah, it was real convenient too. She even had an extra knife we could use on the pup, more like a big silver letter opener really, but it matched the Klaive real nice. Put it right through her heart to hang her up on the tree…”
Kabula yelped and threw herself to the floor as Nuntisiwas roared and pitched the desk at her. “Can’t you follow even simple instructions!?” Glass shards popped and flew as his hand rearranged itself, shoving out the intruding material in the process. A few seconds later and he’d lost all hold on his human form. His coat in Crinos form was raven black with a slight oily sheen to it that made it seem almost deep purple in places. In the shadowy confines of his office, it seemed to drink in the light, making him seem even more sinister.
F’foeg S’sap held his ground. Angry Crinos Garou were just a normal part of his day so far as he was concerned. “You told us to gut and hang someone up as bait. We did that, just not with the person you intended. If we had waited to use the person you suggested, we would not have finished in time. Which would you have preferred, complete failure, or partial failure?”
Nuntisiwas snarled and dropped to all fours, creeping towards the insolent little Spiral. He so hated dealing with his type. He panted heavily, teeth inches from the metis’ face, drinking in the scent of blood on him. F’foeg’s brown hair was slowly drying into darker spikes. Under the overwhelming smell of blood, he found the scent he had feared finding. It was someone he knew, someone with a name. And under it all he could smell the rank musky odor of the Spiral. The bastard had enjoyed every minute of his task; it had excited him. Disgusting.
“I gave you a very simple task, which you did not complete. You said she had a Klaive, did you at least bring that back?”
“No, we needed something to stick her to the tree with and it was convenient. It also burnt.” The metis turned his hands over, slowly, not wishing to irritate his boss any further. “See?” Blisters did indeed cover the palms of the metis’ hands. “It even burnt Kabula, and it’s not like she minds the pain usually.”
“Let me see.” Nuntisiwas pulled Kabula to her feet roughly, studying her hands, which were just as blistered as the metis’. The Ahroun failed to flinch as he prodded at one large boil until it popped.
“It’s not like it usually hurts me any, not like you poor wimpy fellows.” She pulled a heavy silver ankh out of her clinging shirt and dangled it close to Nuntisiwas’ eye. She giggled wetly, spraying spit onto one of his ears. “Feel the burn, baby!”
“Enough of your foolishness!” he swatted the offending piece of jewelry away and could feel a slight cold burn at its touch, seeming to sap his strength. “You should have brought it back regardless! If you are so impervious to pain you should know better!” He stared eye to eye with the giggling Ahroun for a moment, until she sobered up. A Crinos staring you in the eye usually has that effect.
“I know you have more brains then you let on” as he tapped her pointedly on the head with one huge talon. “Why didn’t you wrap it up and bring it back?”
“Cause it burnt even through his t-shirt.” She pointed a finger at the blood drenched F’foeg. “That why he’s so messy. He took his shirt off to wrap up the knife while we put it through her. Then he wrung it out and put it back on. But it didn’t leave no marks on the shirt, just on him. It must be spirit stuff.”
"Indubitably. But, spiritual wards or no, we need to retrieve it. Someone will turn it back against us. Better to suffer a few burns and place it out of the reach of Gaia's defenders then let them use it against us, no?"
"Uh... no. Yes. Um, yeah, whatever you said. So we gotta go get it now?"
"Yes, and we'll take the others too as our quarry should be up and about as well. We can complete both tasks at once." Nuntisiwas snorted at the two. "And clean yourselves up, unless you really wish to be bait as well."

Nuntisiwas looked over his troops, such as they were. They truly were expendable, he knew it and the people he had obtained them from knew it as well. The trick was making sure they never found out just how expendable they were. They were all trouble-makers, misfits, freaks, or just plain morons. The dregs of Black Spiral society had been gathered together for a suicide mission. Perhaps it would actually help the Spirals in a way to get rid of some of these creatures, but the loss of bodies would still be a blow. It didn't really matter, it was all for the greater good of the Wyrm, right? No matter, the hunt and the kill were the important thing, not the loss of life.
“Sir, are you ready to instruct us in our duties?” F’foeg S’sap hissed from next to Nunitsiwas’ shoulder. The Philodox fancied himself the second in command, as did Kabula, and many of the other Spirals here. Playing them all against each other without losing their loyalty was a dangerous game. Giving them the information now that it was too late to turn back would do no great harm.
“Of course, I would not dream of going into battle without properly briefing my people.” He smiled stunningly, but there was a hard edge to it, and F’foeg drew back, trying desperately not to look overly frightened. The smile broadened as Nuntisiwas watched him, for he knew the Philodox was in awe of his power and would do as he wanted. It was a trick he found most useful when dealing with his subordinates as they were all cowards at heart and would not dare oppose him.
“Ah, my dear tribemates…” He didn’t have to raise his voice much to get their attention, they had been waiting for him. He took his place at the front of the motley pack, seemingly looming over them all, even the ones in Crinos. He had a certain presence about him, no matter whether he wore his native Homid form, or something more exotic.
“I have brought you all together for a very important task. No single pack could handle such a hunt, thus why I’ve gathered you together from so many different hives, to gain some of the strength of each of those places, the favor of their totems, and the wisdom of its members.” A blatant lie, but none of them could tell anyway, nor would they dare question him. They were too busy preening over the insincere ego stroking.
“We will be hunting the most dangerous prey any of you have ever seen. Many of you have felt the burn of silver, the rake of claws, or the agonizing kiss of balefire, but that is as nothing compared to what we face now. Our foe is clever and strong as any of you, versed in both the ways of the Gaian Garou and our own ways, but loyal to neither. He is an opportunist of the worst sort, one who walks between two worlds but belongs to neither. We got after the most deadly of foes, a wolf who has joined the ranks of the undead!”
There was stir among them at that. Outright fear showed on some faces, puzzlement on others. He doubted any would be brave enough to question him outright, but he would need to allay their fears before they set out.
“Ah, but you must be thinking, are not the undead servants of the Wyrm just as surely as we are? That they may be, but they serve themselves first and foremost and do not pay proper homage to their true master, to the one who gives them their power. They are treacherous creatures, and this one more so than any other for he wears a familiar face. He must be destroyed before he turns against us, unless you wish to wake some evening to the feel of treacherous fangs in your throat…?”
They still didn’t look enthusiastic about the prospect of fighting the undead, but the nervous looks into the gathering shadows seemed to indicate they would do as told. They were convinced of the necessity of the mission if nothing else. That was all he needed. The sun would be down soon and his prey would be drawn to the bait left out earlier. If a few of his soldiers were still uncertain, there was nothing he could do about it now. Time was of the essence.
Nuntisiwas threw back his head and howled, shifting to Crinos in the process so that the sound broke and distorted, dropping several octaves in the process.“We hunt! We chase! We kill! Death to the abomination!” The others answered, though their howls were tentative at first. But fervor is contagious, as is fury, and soon enough the Spirals had worked themselves into a properly murderous mood. Some had already succumbed to frenzy by the time Nuntisiwas finished his howl and went leaping into the darkening forest. Just so long as they found something to spend their fury on, preferably the actual target, everything would be going according to plan.

Nunitsiwas bounded through the snow, the scent of blood in the air drawing him just as surely as it would draw his prey. Soon it would all be over. He ran in front of the pack, leading it on, glad that the frenzied creatures behind him were bound to his will for the moment. His nose twitched and his eyes flew wide as the scent he’d so long sought after came to his nose. He’d tracked the creature seemingly forever, but the scent had never been so fresh, so immediate. He’d been running on the memory of it for so long that he stumbled, shocked at its actual presence.
He leapt forward, eager for the kill, bounding into the clearing. Blood covered the snow and a body lay among it, seemingly sleeping. He howled and leapt for the body, his rage temporarily overcoming all sense. His teeth tore into the throat of the corpse, the cold flesh easily giving way before his fury. The taste of cold, dead blood in his mouth brought him back from the brink of madness. He peered at the corpse’s face, a face he knew, but not that of his prey. His legs grew weak for a moment as the person’s name tried to claw its way to the front of his mind. No, no time for regrets, I will remember later, when there is time for proper thought…
He recoiled and looked around frantically, wolfen nose twitching furiously, trying to pick up the faint scent of the abomination. There! He leapt to the chase again. It HAD been here, but it was gone now. He ran, the forest blurring around him, blundering into trees he didn’t see. He couldn’t lose the scent now, even as it wove in and out with the scent of another. He snarled in fury that someone would dare take his kill from him and pressed himself ever faster. There was only the scent trail. Nothing else mattered. Everything else was an enemy to be overcome, the forest, the one who ran before him, his own body and its demands that he slow down. None of it mattered. The beast will die tonight. The beast will die tonight. The beast will die tonight. The thought ran through his brain and drove him on, the beat of it matching the pounding of his feet, of his heart, of his obsession. Somewhere behind him the rest of the pack ran, but he was only faintly aware of their existence, of the mad wails that rang through the forest.
How long the hunt took did not matter, only that it would end sometime. Minutes, hours, days, even years could have flown past and he would not have known. He was lost in the endless now of the wolf side of his nature. The space between him and his target was crossed in what seemed the space of a single agonizing heartbeat. He abruptly snapped out of the near trance he’d been running in as he caught sight of the dull silvery flash of his target’s fur. Every muscle hurt from his prolonged exertion but he pushed himself on. He could not let weakness overtake him when his chase was so nearly over.
A rough bark came from behind him “We’ll get the Klaive back boss, we almost caught up with him!” F’foeg S’sap bounded past him in Crinos, eager to redeem himself. His dark grey fur contrasted sharply with Kabula’s ghostly white form as the two slipped past.
“Thanks for breaking the trail boss, the snow’s getting deep!” Kabula barked out, kicking snow into his face. His subordinates would have to corner the beast since they were fresher. They had saved their energy by following his already broken trail.
“Fuck you, old man!” Jonathan Roark took the opportunity to cuff his leader on the way past. “Get out of the way if you’re too weak to make the kill.”
Nuntisiwas lunged after the lean, shaggy Crinos, jaws snapping shut to take a piece out of the insolent whelp’s tail. He’d reprimand him later, assuming he lived, but right now he would have his moment of glory. He would not give it away to some idiot pup who never would have amounted to anything without his leadership.
Up ahead he could already hear sounds of fighting. “Give it up, we are all around you…” F’foeg s’sap called up at his opponent.
“Never! I’ll fight you all!” came an unfamiliar voice. Nuntisiwas knew the sound of his prey’s voice, and this was not it. He caught up with the ones who had overtaken him before. The Spirals who had been trailing were only a few steps behind him now.
F’foeg continued. “Make it easy on yourself, give up now. We’ll make it quick.” The ring of Spirals laughed. Kabula literally shook with laughter, apparently on the verge of having a fit. Nuntisiwas saw nothing funny in this at all. His pack had cornered a silent Strider, not the fallen Shadow Lord he sought. He was about ready to scream in frustration. You idiots, are you so easily distracted from our true prey? We hunt the undead, not some damn fool messenger!
The Strider seemed unafraid of his fate. “What are you so afraid of? One wounded Garou with a metis pup and you are too afraid to fight!? Come, come dance with me, come dance with Ghiyath and Dhul Fiqar!”
Nuntisiwas turned away, he’d leave his subordinates to their bloody work. There was no calling them off now; he was just too tired. He’d have to try and get them back on the proper trail after they’d had their fun. And then Nunitisiwas saw him, the object of his obsession, just standing and watching the impending slaughter. His fur was a pale grey, lifeless and dull, ruffling slightly in the slight breeze. The abomination might as well be a statue for all the animation he showed.
“You! I’ll have your head stuffed and mounted on my mantle Montoya! Enough of this infernal cat and mouse!” Nuntisiwas leapt at the abomination then, claws flashing, and a roaring bursting forth from his chest.
“Do I know you?” Allonzo Montoya seemed genuinely perplexed at the furious assault directed at him and was slow in pulling his weapon. Claws struck deep and the undead creature’s precious blood splattered across the snow.
“Do you know me!? Do you know me!?” A red haze seemed to drift before Nuntisiwas’ eyes. “I’ve only hunted you these many moons, you bastard!”
“Oh, so you’re the nuisance. I’ve had enough of you!” They fought back and forth through the snow for a moment or two. It seemed like eternity. The undead wolf seemed tireless, but he had no need to breathe at all. Nuntisiwas was already exhausted from the chase, and he panted heavily. Rage was all that was keeping him fighting. Allonzo took advantage of Nuntisiwas’ growing fatigue and struckto swiftly to be seen, sinking the bane-infested sword he wielded deep into his opponent’s shoulder. Nuntisiwas screamed at the pain of having some of his very soul sucked away.
His scream was answered by a chorus of howls, clear clean ones, untouched by the madness of the Wyrm. Perhaps they would be able to save the Strider he’d given up on earlier. He didn’t really care who won at this point, just so long as they killed Allonzo as well.
The object of his hatred pulled the silvered blade out, boldly licking blood off the blade. He started to fade out of Nuntisiwas’s vision then. Am I dying? Pain shot across his throat, followed by a wave of intense pleasure. He thrashedineffectively, claws raking feebly at his now unseen attacker. Sounds faded in and out. He could hear the battle roaring about him, but no one seemed to care about one fallen warrior and the unseen monster slowly taking his life. Neither the Garou who’d leapt to the Strider aid nor his own underlings could save him now. He resigned himself to a slow death by exsanguination.
The pain let up for a moment, but he was too weak to rise. The creature hissed in his ear. “If you want me so badly, run so close upon my trail, perhaps I should let you have some of me. Perhaps just a little taste, just enough to let you have what you so love to hate, hrmmm? Just a little taste…”
Blood splattered on his nose and into his nostrils, making it difficult to breath. He involuntarily licked at it and gagged at the taste of the foul, lifeless ichor. “Stop torturing me and be done with it!”
“As you wish, oh mighty hero…” Nuntisiwas braced himself for the killing bite but instead was reward with the unearthly scream of his foe. He looked up to see a shining set of claws protruded from the writhing abomination’s gut. The blow from behind had caught the beast unawares and it had been unable to properly protect itself.
Allonzo looked about to wrench himself free, but Nuntisiwas reached up and hooked his own sharp claws into the shining ones that had saved his life. Silvery flames licked about his paws, but the fire could not leap from the clean white fur onto his own dark oily pelt. “Kill him! Strike before he gets free!”
The shining paw clamped shut over his own in a near bone breaking grip and Allonzo thrashed and howled, shaking with each new blow to his back. He twisted about to catch his attacker’s eye. “Let me GO!” the beast shrieked and abruptly the attacker’s grip loosened.
Again the abomination faded from Nuntisiwas’ sight and he was left looking at the stunned face of a young Silver Fang. He struggled to sit up. “What are you doing!? Kill him before he escapes again!”
The shining young Fang looked utterly stunned. “But….he said to let him go….”
“It’s a trick of the mind! I can’t let him get away again!” He lunged to his feet, swaying uncertainly. Battle still raged around him and he could see great savage wolves hounding his followers. The Strider lay amidst a ring of bodies, his thin chest barely rising and falling. Both the twisted hulking bodies of his own followers and the lean lupine bodies of the Garou who’d come running to defend their territory lay in the pile.
“Wait, wait! You’re too hurt to be chasing after that thing, it almost killed you once already! Let me heal you first.” He reached out a shining hand towards the great dark Garou who swayed before him.
“Are you daft?” Nuntisiwas had heard the Fangs were mad, but to heal one such as him was utter folly! It didn’t seem to deter the Fang any and he could feel the great wound on his shoulder starting to knit closed.
“Hey boss! We need to go!” Kabula screamed as she went racing by, two lean and hungry looking wolves hot on her heels.
The Fang’s jaw dropped. “You’re… you’re… you’re with THEM!? But, but, there’s no darkness to you…”
“What do you mean?” Nuntisiwas stared deep into the youngster’s eyes
“Your soul…” the Fang seemed uncertain now.
“BOSS!” F’foeg appeared, clouting the hesitating Fang out of the way. “It’s a total disaster, they’re ripping us to shreds! We have to retreat!” He drew back to strike again, to finish the Fang, but Nuntisiwas stayed the metis’ hand.
“We go. Now.” F’foeg bounded off as angry howls rang through the woods. More of Gaia’s defender were on their way. Nuntisiwas caught the Fang’s eye for a brief moment before bounding into the darkness. “I owe you a favor, shining one.”
The Fang watched the retreating Spirals and their leader in utter confusion. He made to call after them, but his voice fell to a mere whisper. “But how do you know my name? And how can you hide your true face from me?”

Part 3