An Unusual Friendship

Giftart for my good friend ~Whitemane.
I promised this to him long ago . But I know he forgives me for being late :3.
PLEASE FULL VIEW!!

Talon and Crescent meet after a difficult encounter. Difficult, because prejudices between Garou and Bastet are a hard enough thing to make any encounter between the two shapeshifter breeds a dangerous situation. But Talon is not a common Khan, and Crescent is not a common Garou. So their unusual selves turn to be some unusual friends, in the World of Darkness.

Talon char copyright: ~Whitemane.
Crescent and picture copyright: me!

The words below are the story of how Talon and Crescent met, in the middle of nowhere near the Death Valley. It was written by ~Whitemane.


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The earth was still warm after the day’s heat as Talon Osbourne trekked across the yellow dust of the southern regions of North America. His skin was blistered and burned were he had found insufficient shelter during the previous day, but he had to endure. He had gone for a week seeing barely any natural water sources, but his survival skills held him in good stead. Even in this barren landscape there was water if you knew where to look.

In the distance and through the evening haze of a red sunset, a great shadowed bank showed itself, but Talon had no idea how far it was. He mentally shrugged. It didn’t matter. One of his contacts, a Native American wanderer had crossed his path no more than three weeks earlier. The grinning young Pumonca had told of a Sept deep in the valleys, hidden away from humanity in a place where people could go missing without a trace and no-one would question it.

He had passed many sun-bleached bones, ageless in the arid landscape, testament to the harsh nature of this world. Grumbling to himself, he winced as he shifted his heavy bergen on sore, sweaty shoulders. “Give me snow.” He muttered. His kind was, after all, born to the snowy lands many thousands of miles away.

Talon wondered to himself why he was drawn to this hidden Sept, then he realised it was simple. He liked secrets and something hidden was there to be found. He knew he would most likely be chased off at the first opportunity, then again, stranger things had been known. Some Septs had welcomed him in the past. Admittedly, most had had an alternative agenda, but still, he felt the urge to seek them out. Perhaps, he reasoned, they could help him find his daughter.

As night drew in and the temperature dropped, the Khan found himself picking up the pace. He could, in all probability, have been at those cliffs a week earlier had he decided to travel in the Umbra, but the very thought of travelling in that world of dancing shadows and strange spirit-creatures caused the hairs on the back of his neck to stand on end. He shivered, but dismissed it as the cold, despite the fact he could walk through a Siberian snowdrift in little more than what he was wearing at the moment.

A smile crossed Talon’s face as he trudged onwards, drawn by something just out of conscious perception. Ever since he had spoken with Cheveyo Laughs-With-the-Stars, he had felt a pressure on the back of his head, like a gentle hand slowly pushing forwards. Unlike the feeling of being manipulated, the sensation was one he was familiar with, one of instinct rather than an external force. Talon shrugged any unease off at the though that perhaps he was being manipulated. He’d had much stranger feelings in the past that had been instinctive. The smile broadened as he remembered friends of the past and how he had been led to them. Hrolf the massive Get of Fenris, Siyanda the wonderful Swara. Good friends, both, but he had been forced to move ever onwards, leaving them behind as he succumbed to his wanderlust.

He shook off his reverie and looked up at the cliffs, his eyes glinting un-naturally in the starlight. It was a new moon, so there wasn’t much illumination from Seline, Luna, he corrected himself. He needed to remember the terms used in the Garou tongue if he was to make himself known and avoid the initial barrier of hostility that he had encountered in the past.

The night passed with many memories and Talon found himself smiling and weeping alternately as his past inflicted itself on him. He shook his head to clear it. There was no worth in dwelling on past events. He had learned many bitter lessons, but then, that was why he was still alive where so many had fallen.

Before making this trek, Talon had ensured he had cleansed himself spiritually. Six months fighting through Malfeas left an almost indelible taint on him, but after the spiritual equivalent of being placed through an industrial dishwasher, followed by the agonising sensation of having an acid bath he finally felt clean.

The feeling was worth it as Talon didn’t particularly fancy the prospect of having to flee through unfamiliar territory to prevent a pack of Garou from pinning his hide to the inside of one of their dwellings.

In the distance, a light flickered, reflecting from the stone cliffs behind. At this distance, even Talon’s acute eyesight couldn’t make out more than an indistinct blur, but the thought that he was close to another sentient creature boosted his spirits after so long alone. It wasn’t that he minded being alone, he positively relished solitude, but he did like the occasional conversation to keep his mind sharp and to stop him forgetting himself.

As dawn came nearer, Talon decided to consider finding shelter, but almost laughed out loud at the thought. He wouldn’t reach the cliffs until late under the next moon, and in this barren land, shelter was hard to find.

Reaching a dune, he started to scrape a hollow on the north side to provide shelter from the sun. Taking a few small sips from his canteen, Talon then proceeded to set up a basic water-trap. He knew it wasn’t likely to yield much, but if the worst came to the worst, there was always the easy way. He smiled to himself as, his chores complete, he settled down to sleep in the hollow he had dug himself. It was going to be another hot day.

As dawn came, there was a single howl in the distance and Talon smiled. He had found them.




Having found better shelter, Talon had all but healed when he set out the following evening, heading towards the spot he had seen the fire the previous night. He could feel energy coming from that direction and curiosity pulled him towards the fire which had started afresh as night fell, calling to him like a Siren’s song.

It was several hours hard walk as the Khan eventually came into sight of the fire, having lost sight of it behind a sand dune. This time he could see a figure dancing in the flickering light, ghostly shapes winding themselves around the lithe form as it spun and leapt gracefully. He smiled and moved closer, not trying to conceal his presence, but not trying to make himself known either.

It was evident that the dancing creature was Garou as he slowed to a stop ten meters away where a single, gnarled tree stood, devoid of leaves and baked in the sun. Carefully he removed his pack and, checking for snakes or scorpions, sat with his back against the tree, watching. The dancer moved with supernatural grace, despite the large bulk that came with the Crinos form. This close, it was easy to tell the gender, it was also possible to tell that she was a Metis, a pair of vestigial horns enhancing her aesthetics. Firelight cast her silver-grey fur in an orange glow as the unknown dancer worked herself into a frenzy of movement, yet never lost her grace. Once in a while she would cast a fine powder into the flames which would cause it to crackle and spark before settling down again.

Talon watched as the moon rose and began to sink again towards the horizon, content to sit in silence. He admired the beauty of the wolf, his kind holding no prejudices against those born of a pairing of two children of Luna.

As the dancer finished, dousing the fire by pouring sand over it with her paw-like hands, she finally noticed Talon, sitting cross-legged in front of the tree. Jumping back, she snarled, something registering in her mind that no human would sit and watch a Werewolf in Crinos without feeling some terror.

He rose slowly, keeping his hands visible, palms towards the Garou who had regained her senses and who stood now, lips quivering in a snarl. Slowly, Talon bent towards the fire and picked up a half-burned stick. With it he inscribed two runes of the Garou glyph-language in the dust. One read ‘friend’ the other read ‘Bastet’, the collective name for the Cat-shifters. With that, he stood and waited for the Wolf’s response.