In the long run, we're all doomed. Even the gods eventually deplete their karma and die, though it takes millions of years. Buddhists say that the grief the gods feel upon recognizing their imminent death is greater than all the joy they felt across all the eons of their long lives. Thus, the only true happiness comes from escaping the cycles of birth and death. Do you think that much pain is possible, Tavypib? Speaking of pain, what about those corpses you left in the snow?
You return to the cor
Ah. Ah, no. I cannot force you to take action. I am not what I once was, and I cannot write my desires into the book of the world.
Still, the cat is right: you left a dead man out in the snow. You thought that on your own, I didn't think it for you.
The storm-colored cat hops off the brick wall and starts cutting through the woods. You shake off the snow covering you and stamp your feet.
The spirit turns and beckons for you to hurry. She looks tired and thin, with patches of missing fur and blood on her paw pads. No, I…do I really look like that? Great Gaia, you're right. Once, I shamed the sphinxes, haunted the dreams of tigers.
And you don't have many chances left. You've failed twice tonight: first when you failed to kill the rider, then when you let Black Tarn kill the traveler. What will they do if you fail a third time tonight? If you can't learn something to help your wounded packmate?
"That's bullshit, cat! I killed the Bane, and I did my best at the Speedway!"
"If you're trying to teach me that my elders are wicked, I don't need your instruction. I know."
"If I were a less trusting soul, I'd think you're deliberately turning me against my fellow Garou."
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