Faoiltiarna Fistbreaker McLir

Faoiltiarna Wolfcaller

Mate to Storm the Wolfcaller       

Ireland, during a time when magic was still the mightiest force on the earths. There had been peace 'tween the Garou and the Sidhe for over fifty years, true it was an unesy peace, but all believed it boded well for the marriage of a Garou Princeling, Arawn, and the Sidhe princess Deirdru. Any who knew them, knew their deep abiding love for one another. But there were a few who did not wish the mixing of the bloodlines that would result in the possible fulfilling of certain prophecies in the birth of their bairns.
The wedding was beautiful and without a hitch, and the newlyweds, both of nobility among their kinds, set up to live their life together in a modest manor house. They had many bairns, each showing some of the gifts of their mother or da. The couple loved each other very much, (and often!) for there were in that house no less than 20 young ones ranging in age from 17 down to a babe in arms. Then the trouble broke out.
The Garou, who had ideas about purity, attempted to raid the manor and kill off as many as they could. One of the daughters, Faoiltiarna, shrieked in rage as they tried to attack one of her sisters. Two Garou clasped their hands to bleeding ears, then dropped as she fell upon them with the rage of her father's kind. The remaining attackers fled, realizing that they were perhaps too late in stopping the prophecy. One bairn was dead, Audra, who was but two years of age. Faoiltiarna was crushed and disconsolate that she had failed to save her baby sister.
Time passed, many more raids upon their home, disguised as cattle raids, but there were few cattle stolen since the true objective of the raids were in the house.....the children. The Children of Arawn and Dru had grown in number and grown strong. So one day, Tarna and a couple brothers and one sister went in search of the herbs their mother needed after the last attack. It must be said, not only were Arawn and Dru stubborn about their refusal to ask either side for aide, since they were now atacked by both Garou and Sidhe raiding parties, but the peace tween the tribes had slowly been dissolving at the seams and they had no desire to sunder it completely.
Now Tarna, her brothers Shraven and Eammon, and one sister, Iseabail, had gone looking for the herbs and roots needed for poultices, tisanes, and teas....and had consequently wandered far from home. Tarna was still the oldest in the party at 27 and still unwed. She would chose none who had asked for her hand, finding fault with each and everyone, much to her Ma and Da's consternation.Shraven was next at 20, then Eammon at 19, and Iseabail at 16, each proficient in their style of weapons and magics.
They were sighted by a few Garou who were not kin, and were chased though the forests. Tarna's only thoughts were to get the younger ones out of danger, so she concentrated on luring the hunters away from Eammon and Issy. They escaped, but Shraven fell in battle, right before Tarna's eyes. She watched in horror as they out numbered her poor brother and surrounded him, much as a pack will cut out a sheep.
Pushing herself to her fallen brother's side, she stood over Shraven and wished them home. There was a crack of thunder, lightening filled a sky that seemed to split in half as the portal opened. Dragging Shraven's body through she tried to go home.....But fate has a way of changing even the best laid plans. She and her brother's corpse fell through the portal into another realm. When she awoke, everything was different but similar at the same time. Summoning all her strength and courage, she laid the funeral pyre for Shraven, allowing no tear to fall til her task was finished and the flames were lit. Sobbing she dropped to her knees, a Banshee/Werewolf all alone, far from all she knew.
As the flames grew higher, Tarna sang the keening death song of the Banshee for her brother. Then a shadow detached itself from the surrounding trees and stepped towards her. Even in her grief, she noticed the figure and immediately grabbed for the swords at her sides.
"Hold! Please! Hail the camp!"a female voice shouted from the cloak wrapped about her, "I am Lila, gypsy of Angaron, can you understand me? I mean no harm."
Tarna relaxed a little, her shoulders slumped as she looked towards the pyre. "Greetin's, "she whispered.
A long conversation ensued, about Tarna's mother and father, her family, the troubles 'tween the Garoun and the Sidhe that Tarna's family seemed to be stuck in the middle of and how she came to be here in Angaron. Lila listened, then persuaded her to to go with her to meet the leader of the realm, Lluna.
After the flames had burned out, Lila led Tarna back to Angaron's camp and introduced her to Lluna. Faoiltiarna's story was retold to those at the fireside and they welcomed her into their realm, making her feel as at home as they could. Lluna chuckled a little when she heard of the wolf blood in Tarna, saying that one member of their camp, who was away at the moment, would most likely love to meet her. Tarna just raised a brow, thinking she would keep this male at arm's length as she had all others.

About a fortnight later, Tarna was wandering through the woods, gathering herbs. She soon found out that she and Shraven had not been the only ones to travel through the portal. Before her stood two hunters from her homeland. Bother leapt to the attack, and with a Banshee's wail she held them at bay, until suddenly, one howled. Tarna winced as she heard the familiar call to the hunt and wondered how many others had followed besides these two.
Answering howls rent the air, making her suddenly realize that traipsing off in a new land had not been one of her brighter ideas. Then off to her left, a strange figure seemed to just appear from the trees. She shied away, unsure what to think. His face was painted, but not in the way of the Celts or the Picts, it was like nothing she had ever seen before. He spoke, eyes flashing in rage, "Who dares to call MY pack? And for what reason?"
The hunters answered that they had called the local wolves to aid them in destroying this impure female who was a bane to their existance. Tarna protested, "I am not impure just because m'Ma was Sidhe an m'Da was Garou!!" She stood defiantly, infuriated by their insults, her deep flame red hair whipping about the face in which two hazel eyes blazed with the fury of the wolf.
The stranger glanced at her, did a double take, then turned to the hunters, "She is not your concern anymore, "then turned and motioned to the wolves around them to back away from her. He approached her cautiously, unsure how she would react. Their eyes locked and she nodded slightly, hypnotized by his the deepness of his eyes. Turning as one, Tarna and the stranger looked to the hunters edging in close to her. The first hunter tried to strike at Tarna with his sword and found the stranger's axe-like weapon in his arm and Tarna's sword in his gut.
As a team, they turned to face the second hunter, who was leveling a cross bow at Tarna's chest. The man in face paint howled, and holding up his shield, threw himself between the bolt and her. The bolt sank into the shield as Tarna glared at the hunter, pointing and shrieking at him. He slapped his hands over ears that were spilling blood and dropped to his knees. She charged forward and knocked him to his back, tears in her eyes as she muttered, "This is for Shraven,"and buried her short sword almost to the hilt in his chest. Pushing herself away from the rapidly cooling corpse, she leaned against a nearby tree, gasping for breaths of fresh air.
Her eyes flew open, hands scrambling for a weapon when she felt a light touch on her arm. It was the stranger, "I am Storm the Wolfcaller, I mean no harm. Who are you?" He gazed up at her, his eyes searching her face, meeting her gaze frequently. "I am Faoiltiarna Fistbreaker McLir, "she responded softly, "they call me Tarna in Angaron."
He smiled, "Angaron, yes, I know them, Lluna told me of you." While they were getting rid of the bodies, she told him her story up to now and he nodded, then froze as he saw a shadow moving through the trees. Tarna's ears perked slightly, head tilted as she studied the apparition before her. It was her brother Shraven, in Firshee form. He smiled, then faded out. Storm and Tarna went to the Angaron camp where the process of getting to know one another was turning more serious as the two Alphas playfully fought for dominence. Neither won, but both enjoyed it. Soon he took her as his mate, his Chosen Mate, and they have been together since.

(credit where due...background, and buttons, and some bars made by Moira, copywrited)