[@13org][@Kumbaris][@Martian][@AWACS][@ReusableSword]

[b][h2]The Contribution of a Shaman and Three Gods[/h2][/b]

The songs and empowering ritual continues. Micheal can hear the fighting on the other side of the wood pile his godly friends and he are hiding behind. He peeks up at one point to see the fighting and can see over the top of it all Scarlet firing clean into the Bikers, Amanda laying about her. Xavrion adding his ability to the chaos. It's incredible to see honestly. And he feels a shock of pride run through him that he can be part of such an able and skillful team. It's incredible to see it. And almost harkens back to stories he was told of Waskechak and other great names of the past. Geronimo's rebellion, and the battles of Sitting Bull. That is what this feels like to Micheal in this moment. Pride in his soul, in his heart at that moment.

A pride that though still warm, cools like a chunk of cast iron in the bottom of his chest. A cold, heavy feeling in his very being. It's the same cold thousands of other Shaman and Shaman women, Medicine men and women who helped to face the abomination years ago. Many of them were extinguished in the fight. Burned by a cold fire, struck by ethereal coils of power, or just destroyed utterly, body, soul and mind, screaming as a dirty power struck them down. He'd been beside a laugh-lined faced Shaman who's voice when in song was like a cheery bell. He'd gasped, stopped singing then screamed as a fire of cold fire burst out from within. He'd died trying to continue the song that had kept the Great Ghost Dance going to help against the Abomination.

And here now Micheal sees a mirror, a image, a fragment of that thing from long ago. Something left over, something brought forth from that dark knife. He'd dropped his drum stick and reaches out towards the mage, "NO!" He's screamed. But too late. The man is consumed utterly and there stands in the mages place. That shard of the Abomination. His friends stand and recoil. They'd either been on the moon where it was kinda safe or in a lodge during the fight. But now they are so close. So very close. Micheal snatches up his tomahawk then angrily, "Being from Beyond! You will not remain here! By the Shaman and Medicine clans! In the name of [i]Misti[/i] Louie, Poundmaker, and all great Chiefs and Wisemen, I, Shaman Crane will not let you remain!"

He reaches down and slices the Cree Syllabic rune for Fire, then Ice, then Wind and finally Lightning into the ground. It's not a song this time. It's just a rough, empowered war cry. And he stomps his foot onto the rune for Fire. A glow forming in front of him before he strikes it with his tomahawk, a bolt of fire growling across the distance, and flaring against the things chest, "Fall!" he cries, then another war whoop, stomping down on the Rune for Wind. A near invisible blade of harsh cold Arctic wind lashing out to slash across the Horror's shoulder, "Fall!" He cries again, as he gathers himself for another attack.