Memory

Wed, 25 Mar 2009 13:57:22 GMT

On a quiet night in which the Umbral moon in the sky is a curving sliver, the knife-like moon pokes through the sky and shadowed canopy of the towering woods within Wildfire's patrolled grounds. It is on one such night though, as they are inspecting around in the small Glade that they come upon a trail of sludge in the Umbra that does not belong in their nice, clean woods. The trail is thickly laid, smelling like spoiled milk mixed with gasoline and paint thinner, and touch-test shows it feels not unlike that of a slug's slime. The trail, around 3 feet wide, suggests this is no ordinary spirit of the forest. A sense of the Wyrm would show it definitely is not. The most disturbing thing, however, is that it leads deeper into their nice forest in the direction of the Glade. And what's worse, something has gouged out chunks from the trunks of the spirit trees along the way.

Blackriver's snort in disgust, licking her nose as if to get the scent of the slime off, and then begins to follow the trail at a quick trot. Her ears are pricked forward, snout up to sniff the air, all senses on full alert.

The previous wariness Dragon's-Fire has shown on the umbral jaunt is consumed as the Fianna lets out a low growl. Wyrm-thing, his posture cries. And immediately following that, is an equally plain emote: Destroy it. He takes the beta's position, right behind Blackriver as she trots along.

*My friends,* Finds-Spirits says in dismay as she spies the various tree spirits. She has to be dragged from damaged spirit to damaged spirit, whispering to each that she will come back to care for them once they rid the territory of the intruder.

At the sight of the hurt spirits and slime trail, Wave-Singer lets out a low, menacing growl. ~We will find whatever did this,~ he says. ~And we will give them the gift that we give to those who dare attack out land.~

Hope-Turner wrinkles his muzzle at the sight of the sludge. He moves to keep a close eye on Finds-Spirits as she lingers to talk to spirits. ~Come on. It's not good to fall behind. Luna's light is dim,~ he rumbles to the Theurge in a worried tone. To Wave-Singer, he grunts grim agreement.

The group of Wildfire continues to follow the slime trail. It gets a little wider, even, and the damage against the trees gets worse. Finally to their ears, the sounds of cracking and crunching, metallic saws buzzing, and a dragon-like roar. Ember's voice. The sound of the trees crying out can be felt more than heard by those with the Gift of Spirit Speech.

The sound makes the Fang Galliard's ears swivel forward as Wave-Singer tries to hold back the Rage. ~A Weaver machine? Here?!~ He's trying not to sound too incredulous about it.

The theurge stops short of letting out a howl to alert the intruder of their presence but she makes a savage snap of her jaws, the thin knife moon in the sky adding to her rage. ~They are in pain. It is hurting them. We will -stop- it.~ She surges toward the front of the group, just behind Dragons-Fire as they push forward.

Blackriver's ears slick back, her fur bristling, and she slides up into hispo. ~Not yet.~ She growls, slowing her pace so she can see what's going on before she rushes in to attack.

Dragon's-Fire rises into crinos at the sound of Ember's roar and the saws. The axe in his hand is clutched tightly in his taloned digits. ~They will pay for attacking our home,~ he hisses emphatically. Though he does settle marginally when Blackriver cautions them.

Hope-Turner is ready to charge, his hackles raising, claws digging into the earth. The only thing that holds him is Blackriver's order. Narrowing his eyes, he moves to guard his Alpha's flank. ~This is bullshit,~ he observes.

It's dark in the Umbral night, but not so dark they can't see the swath of destruction and sludge that leads up to a scene of a battle going on. Ember flies in a hovering, circling motion that darts here and there attempting to latch on and bite at a many armed lumbering deforester-like machine. Only, it's not a machine. It's definitely a fleshy sort of spirit monster, sporting armored carapaces here and there but with obvious chinks. Those chinks pulse and throb with what looks like the same brown-purple sludge that has spilled out into the forest floor. Smaller banes of smog and toxicity and sludge cling to the deforester. No... in fact, it seems like they don't just cling. They're integrated into the spirit itself. A terrible amalgamation of the Wyrm comes before their eyes, slowly but surely cutting away pieces of the trees. Around it, there is already some that have been felled. The tree that it's currently cutting spits out ephemeral wood chips. One part of the monster which can be considered the front, chews up the pieces of wood that are brought to its cavernous mouth filled with fangs and sap-slime.

Blackriver's gums peel back in a snarl as the creature becomes clear, and she spends a moment seizing it up. ~Dragon's Fire and Wave-Singer - attack the head. Finds-Spirits and I will jump on it and hit it where its armor is gone. Hope-Turner, attack the banes.~ With that, the lupus takes a moment to activate two of her gifts, and then attempts to leap up onto the armored creature.

Finds-Spirits shifts up into crinos as they come upon the scene, shaking with rage as she surveys the damage done to their territory. Her eyes track the damage to spirits as they survey the scene. At Blackriver's orders, she nods and darts after the lupus. Though not as well--she cannot leap like that! Nonetheless, she goes for the big thing and leaps up to try to gain a foothold, so to speak.

Dragon's-Fire is quick to respond to his alpha's command, wearing a feral grin as he bounds towards the part of the beast that is currently eating the tree spirit's form. He, too, calls upon a gift, to resist any toxins that might come his way. The battle-light is in his eyes now.

Hope-Turner remains as he is, in Hispo. He skirts to the side of the monster and calls upon his discipline and years of training to concentrate on distracting the parasitic bane that poses the greatest threat to those attacking the head. He darts in, weaves, feints and darks back out. ~Hit me with your best shot, Wyrm-filth.~

~One on the banes,~ Wave-Singer says as he lopes with Dragon's-Fire towards their position. ~Two on the arms and body.~ He gives the Fianna a wicked Crinos grin as he leaps, claws out, towards their ordered target. ~And we'll kill...the head!~

On closer inspection, the creature has a few weakspots, but it also has allies in the form of the integrated pollution spirits making up its body. Blackriver leaps a huge distance and covers enough ground before landing on the back of the corrupted beast. When she does, a fleshy sort of hole opens up alongside her and blasts a gout of flame and heated smoke that singes her fur but the damage is minimal. It's the /smell/ that is the worst, assaulting her powerful but delicate lupine senses terribly. Finds-Spirits jumps on and finds her footing less than stable as a hind paw sinks into a portion of the creature's hide between armored chunks - like jumping onto a waterbed and having one's foot sink. The pair going around to the front, Dragon's-Fire and Wave-Singer, face down the worst of it where spike-like fangs protrude out of a waiting mouth. On either side of it, left and right, there are three protrusions. The top one ends in a carapaced limb that holds a rotating saw-like appendage. The middle one has mean scythe-like pincers for grabbing, barbed on the inside with teeth and rather strong looking. The bottom one is simply hose-like and muscular, slathering sludge and slime upon the tree-bits that the beast stuffs into its mouth. Hope-Turner's darting and weaving, distraction tactics, don't seem to work very well. He's ignored. Ember, though, isn't so much as the Wyvern-spirit dives down again and rakes a claw against the beast's armor. That causes an opening in the flesh like a pore and out shoots a projectile gout of sludge towards the flying spirit.

Dragon's-Fire lets out a laugh at Wave-Singer's reference, one that's choked off as he and his parter arrive at the head. The look of disgust is obvious on his thick features. ~Fucking hell! Wave, use its own saw against it! Cut its face open!~ The Fianna goes for the next most threatening limb, which appears to be the scythe-claws.

Snapping her jaws in disgust, Finds Spirits attempts to pull her foot from the sunken trap that it seems to be in, even as she tries to use that carapace that encases the thing to pull herself higher.

Blackriver gags at the smell, almost throwing up, and looks around for the closest kink in the armour, digging into that with her clawed paws.

~Tell a story? They won't believe us,~ Wave-Singer answers as he tries to climb further. He's aiming to grab at the saw arm and pull is down into the giant machine-like creature. He strains, using his Rage to fuel his strength to try and attack the thing with its own weapon.

Hope-Turner growls in frustration when his tactics don't work, and catches one bane's spitting assault on the totem out of the corner of his eye. ~Ember!~ The sight unleashes his fury and he moves to attack the closest parasitic bane again, this time aiming to pull it clear off its host with his Rage.

The Deforester lurches as quite suddenly, as if it were /just/ noticing the Garou that have come, attack it. Dragon's-Fire grabs ahold of the scyther arm and Wave-Singer the saw arm on the left, they find the creature's strength to be... more than what had been expected. A match, for sure, for their own crinos strength. The growl of the beast sounds more like the turning of its insides, metal grinding against flesh somewhere within. The hose arm, which has been left free, turns upon the pair and splurts a sticky sludge-like substance upon them. For Wave-Singer, the feeling of it starts to tingle just a little bit, while Dragon's-Fire doesn't feel a thing. The other side of the beast's mouth and its arms continue to chomp away at the tree, making the wooden trunk like a giant cigar sticking out of a lopsided face. Up atop, Blackriver's claws sink deep into the chinks in between the armor and she finds her claws sliding through sludge. But, as she finds, the thing is definitely 'bleeding'. Oozing, rather. Finds-Spirits' climb up is like scaling a rockclimber's wall, all about finding the right spots to do so. Then she gets into the right spot up top, where she can survey and choose her point of attack. She goes rather unmolested for the moment, but can see as Blackriver's spot is starting to ooze a little more strongly. It's leaking down, starting to cover up the spot where she clings on. Down below, Hope-Turner suddenly bursts into a furious array of motion as he harnesses his rage and claws terribly into a sludgey bane on the side of the beast. It dies rather quickly under the assault, sliding off to splut against the ground and create an muddy puddle of putrid nasty at his feet, sticky and immobilizing as tar. That's not the end of it though, as when he's stuck there, the spot that has opened up gouts a flame and sets the ooze alight.

Finds-Spirits catches what Blackriver is doing and the result and starts to dig her claws into the flesh of the beast between chunks. ~We have to hurry, before it chops more spirits down!~ She does her best to brace her hand and footholds as she slashes with her one arm.

~Nrrr!~ Wave-Singer grunts as his limbs are touched by the rancid-smelling foul liquid. He tries to keep pulling at the saw-arm. ~I need aid!~ he says. ~This stuff is starting to feel like acid, and it's hard to move.~

Dragon's-Fire releases the scything arm with a sound that's half gag and half snarl once he's coated in the gunk and finds his task impossible. The axe gets lifted up high, and he changes his tactic. ~Die, Wyrmthing!~ Then he's bringing his axe down on the arm Wave-Singer is holding. He's careful to avoid his packmate's portion of the arm, instead going in closer to the body.

You paged Mekoides with 'Spending a rage for an extra attack.'.

Blackriver grunts and shifts into crinos, bringing up her claws to where one of the plates of exoskeleton meets the skin, and attempting to wrench the whole thing off.

Hope-Turner lashes out with a desperate attempt to grab onto the Deforester's body, trying to latch on and add the monster's strength to his own as it lurches. He wants to get unstuck and away from that fire!

The saw-like arm gets partially severed by the huge axe that Dragon's-Fire swings, enough so that Wave-Singer can try to pull the arm off or twist it towards the Deforester's head itself as attempted before. The mighty blow, however, draws the other arms to a halt from their normal activity, bringing the monster machine's other mouth half down upon the two. More sludge is pumped over them, this time covering their heads as well, inciting gag reflexes. The pincer arm, as it has been released, swings around to close upon the pair of Garou and presses them together, the barbed fangs on the interior piercing their abdomens. Blackriver, up above, pulls hard at the armored plate and it comes away with a slurch of sound and ooze, revealing a pulsating interior that looks vaguely like a smoking, gaseous flame held within a thin membrane. Finds-Spirits claws away at the beast's exterior, getting much the same reaction as Blackriver initially as oozing sludge spills out and slowly starts to drip. Hope-Turner manages to yank himself free of the sludge pile by grabbing onto a plate of the wyrmthing as it moves on, pulling himself to safety before the fire can catch onto his own body. Ember flies down again and helps the Child ahroun up some more, grabbing onto him and pulling hard to lift the crinos up onto the deforester beast before flying off.

Finds-Spirits starts to rip savagely at the thing, her claws hand pulling at the plates much like Blackriver, her hind feet digging into her purchase as ooze starts to drip down, making things more slick.

Around the plug of vile goo, Dragon's-Fire lets out a howl of mixed outrage and extreme disgust. The barbed fangs within make it harder for him to move far at all, so the spirited Righ starts to rip at the base of the claw that pins he and his packmate. ~Argh! Destroy the claws!~

Hope-Turner sends out a thanks to his totem over the packlink and leaps up to come to the aid of his packmates. He moves to where Blackriver has exposed the thing's interior, and he Rages to give the membrane a furious swipe with his Hispo claws.

The other Galliard is also hurting, and his snarls go wordless as he tries to find the base of the claw, the barbs digging into his gut, and pull the claw out from the base. Wave-Singer does not look pleased, obviously.

Blackriver snaps the plate of armour she's holding in two, and attempts to jam the splintered end into the membrane of fire and air.

What happens when a smoking membrane filled with gas and fire gets popped? The same thing that seems to happen with anything of that nature. As Blackriver and Hope-Turner take their turns and swipe or stab the membrane, the spirit very suddenly and unexpectedly explodes flame from all the orifices it has. Random holes open up gouting flames and putrid smoke out into the air around. Blackriver and Hope-Turner are flung off of the beast entirely by the wave of flame, the pair of them arcing down and hitting the ground like fireballs coming off a volcano. Finds-Spirits gets half-burned as flames burst from the wound she's made in the creature. Dragon's-Fire and Wave-Singer both, held as they are, dig themselves out of the claw's hold in combined effort and not a moment to soon, as the worst of the fire billows out from the spirit's mouth. The acidic stick goo catches, though, and it sets them on fire as well. Though the heat is strong, they themselves don't feel the burn just yet as the flames eat away the goo covering them.

Dragon's-Fire, when he's caught aflame, does not seem to be rejoicing in living up to his deedname. As a matter of fact, he's downright displeased by the fact of his sudden birthday candle impression. He throws himself against the ground, and does as every PSA he's ever seen has told him. He stops, drops and rolls. Most PSAs don't reccomend a constant stream of profanities, however. That's just a bonus.

Finds-Spirits leaps from the back of the thing, aiming herself toward Hope-Turner. ~I come, brother!~ she calls to him. Burned? Check. In pain? Check. On fire? No! But she's snapped into healer mode.

Blackriver lets out a yelp of surprise and pain, and begins to rolls around on the ground frantically.

Wave-Singer snarls as he's freed. ~Get to the others!~ he calls out. ~I am not bad off!~ Of course, he's on fire. He has an odd notion of 'not bad off.' He leaps away from the sputtering machine-creature, rolling on the ground in an attempt to smother the flames.

A loud groan issues out of the Wyrm spirit as it shudders and flags from its forward, steady pace. Everything seems to seep out or dissipate, the sludge catching on fire and burning. The mouth-mandible-arms shudder and shiver, then slowly go still. The beast wheezes out more fire before it all starts to dissipate very slowly in a putrid umbral steam. Unlike normal fire, though, this is a differing kind in which it isn't put out nearly so easily. Like napalm, it burns hot and painful, even the Gift of Resisting Pain not quite covering all of the heat damage. But eventually the fires are put out by rolling upon the ground and smothering them.

Dragon's-Fire's profanities melt away into a meaningless series of screams as the pain of the fire actually reaches him. But it doesn't last too long, as the fire is eventually quenched. Still, it's a painted, scalded Fianna who rises to his knees, panting. ~Is...everyone okay,~ he croaks.

Blackriver gives her coat one final shake, panting and gasping, nose twitching in disgust at the smell of her own singed fur. She gets up and surveys the damage, to her packmates, to the banes, and to the hilltop.

Finds Spirits doesn't bother to answer anyone, zeroing in on Hope Turner like a medic on a battlefield. Which she is! she starts to pray before she even gets to the Gaian, offering forth her gnosis as she attempts to heal her packmate.

The stink rising from Wave-Singer could know out a bane, if there was one left around. Smoke and acidic bile and whatever else came out of the thing, the stink clings to him as the fire goes out, he stops rolling, and starts to climb to his feet. ~I am able to perform the Ritual of Cleansing,~ he says, staggering to the group.

Hope-Turner lays on the ground. He shrinks down to homid.

Dragon's-Fire pushes himself to his feet, bolting over when he sees Finds-Spirits bent over their suddnly homid-form packmate. ~Hope, no!~ And he brings the stink of the vile goo with him. ~M-me too, Wave-Singer. We will Cl-...where's Ember?~ He immediately looks around for their totem, anxiety stamped on his weary face.

Small spot fires of the burning sludge are leaving a nasty smelling smoke in the general area, but it seems like the large deforester creature has finally come to a halt, dead in the water - or fire, as it were. Wildfire's totem, Ember, flaps overhead with another roar, this one of triumph. But there is still cleansing and healing to be done. And from the looks of it, it could take a while. More than one night's worth of work awaits them.

Finds-Spirits remains kneeling over August, still murmuring the prayer beneath her breath as she concentrates, calling for spirits to help.

Blackriver begins to pad a slow circle around the burned area, most of her attention on Hope-Turner, but sparring the occasional glance to the downed bane. ~Yes, start the rite once Hope-Turner is healed. And we need to find out where these banes are coming from. This is not the first one we have found at the glade.~

~Yes,~ Wave-Singer answers, obediently, as he starts to look around the area to see the extent of the damage. ~We will find where they are coming from, and shut it down.~

The healing touch of Finds Spirits knits much of the Ahroun's burnt flesh, though he still looks pretty bad, especially in homid. When he comes to he immediately shifts up to Crinos. ~Thank you, sister,~ he rumbles to the Theurge, and then looks around. ~We won? Yeah!~ For now, the simple joy of victory and still being alive is enough for the Gaian.

Dragon's-Fire lets out a husky laugh when August wakes back up. ~Hah! Do your worst, Wyrm! We are Wildfire and you cannot defeat us!~ Someone is a little exuberant in he aftermath, and he lets out a howl to prove it.

Blackriver visibly relaxes once Hope-Turner awakens and shifts. ~We will cleanse the place tonight. Later, we will come back, and Finds-Spirits will talk to the spirits and we will see where the banes are coming from.~

~It will take many cleansings,~ Finds Spirits says doubtfully, easing her burned flesh as she looks around the damaged area. ~ And I will have to care for and talk to the spirits before they will be ready to speak of it.~

A brief chat

Sat, 13 Dec 2008 19:14:03 GMT

Harbor Park -- Fountain
Situated in the center of a large, open meadow is a clustering of six trees, a flower bed, a few steel-and-wood benches set firmly into concrete, and a flagstone courtyard that is dominated by a large fountain.
The fountain is a wide circular pool of water some fifty feet across and about five feet deep in most places. The sculpture in the center is a mix of old and new, traditional and modern: eight concrete-and-stainless-steel slabs about six feet high are set in a rough Stonehenge-like circle around the center of the fountain. Water flows from their tops, cascading in bright mesmerizing sheets to the pool below. Rising above the steel circle is a large marble statue of the Water Bearer, an androgynous figure draped in robes of flowing water. It bears a large jug carved with various Greek symbols, from which pours a seething torrent of water into the pool at its feet.
Cars on the nearby street have an excellent view of the park as do any residents of the tall buildings which line the waterfront.
The murky waters of the Columbia River flow swiftly along the east side of the park. Bracketing the park to the west is First Street and the city of St. Claire. Recent construction work is creating an earthen berm several feet high all along the borders of the park in all directions.

Currently the moon is in the waxing Full Moon phase (95% full).
Currently in Saint Claire, it is a cloudy day. The temperature is 42 degrees Fahrenheit (5 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from the northeast at 3 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 30.28 and falling, and the relative humidity is 76 percent. The dewpoint is 35 degrees Fahrenheit (1 degrees Celsius.)

The moon is about as full as it can get, only partially hidden behind the scudding clouds. The night time drop in temperature has done a fair amount to clear the streets of people where Cole is walking, though the aisle of space he carries around himself also has much to do with Luna's ascendance. Hands tucked deep into an old leather jacket, Cole doesn't seem to have much of a destination in mind.
Aside from the casual bar-goers and the shoppers, the one group the cold doesn't discourage is the inveterate homeless who have nowhere else to go. Surely to most Olga must seem like just one more of those, though a particularly cranky and avoidable one, as she sits at the park entrance with a tin pot in front of her, her great orange bag at her side, and a deep scowl for those who cross the car-crossed road rather than pass her sidewalk gauntlet. Those who don't she meets with a vague disinterested "Spare some change?" and "God bless you," when they fail to.
Cole is either too distracted to recognize the gauntlet for what it is, or else doesn't care to move out of the way. It seems the former at first, because the Fianna's gaze is low, and there's the slightest hint of a wobble to his step. He looks up in time to recognize the guardian at the gate, though. A hand goes into his pocket, and he comes out with a very crumpled and sad-looking dollar bill. That gets dropped into the pot. "Hey, Duchess."
It's unclear whether Olga legitimately didn't notice Cole passing her by (though she certainly gave the same "Spare some change, sir?" and "God bless you,"), or if she's just seeing whether he'll cough up; regardless when he greets her her smile is broad. "Hey Brian," she says, quietly. "Sit down, it's chill as death out tonight. Lemme get you a blanket. You pursuin' your heritage by whisky, or women, tonight?" she asks, just as quiet, but sharp enough to pierce through the occasional rumble of an automobile.
Cole takes the offer, settling down a bit gracelessly. His smile seems genuine enough. "Thanks, if it won't scare anyone away. Little bit of whiskey," he admits. "Not so much as I'd like, though. Too big for anything really fun." He gestures vaguely to the sky with his chin. "Pr'lly shouldn't be doin' it, but after the last week, some relaxin's in order. How're you doing?"
"Good," Olga answers, mildly. "Good." It doesn't seem to be terribly considered. She looks around her, up and down the sidewalk, before pulling that great orange bag next to her over. "And you?" she asks. There's a hint of coyness in her voice, of mischief, which she doesn't bother to hide.
Cole seems to catch the tone, or at least suspect that there's something slightly off. He tilts his head as he looks at her. "Oh, pretty good, all things bein' equal. Worried about Jason an' the cubs. But hopefully it'll work out. And your family?"
"Good," Olga answers again, in more or less the same tone; this time there's more deception than prevarication, but she's pretty good at hiding it. "Good." She comes from bag with the fruit of her mischief, namely two cups of dented tin and a small 375mL bottle of cheap rye. Her smile is sharp and twisted, and she doesn't wait for permission before she begins to pour.
Cole seems content to leave it at that, giving no sign if he even notices. "Glad to hear it." He utters a bark of a laugh when she brings out her prize. "Now I know how you've been keepin' warm in this beastly cold." And if there isn't the sound of appreciation and approval in his voice!
Olga's grin only widens when she doesn't hear him protest. "No, no, first nip of the night, honest," she promsies, her voice dry and quick as the wind. "It's the Canadian in me. Lord knows I seen worse winters than this," she blusters, and continues without leaving space for interruption, "listen though, I gotta stick up for that boy of yours, Jason. He and his friend - Edge, right? Quiet kid - they scared up some stuff for me while I was making magic to go to Spokane. Good kid. Wild, but good. Helped me out a lot." There's at least four fingers in each little tin cup; she hands Cole his with a fair bit of insistence.
Cole takes the cup, wrapping his fingers around it. His nose flares as he takes a sniff. Apparently, cheap or not, strong or not, it's not too objectionable. "Huh? Really?" The bluster about the winters forgotten, he looks on his counterpart curiously. "What did they do, exactly?"
Olga leans forward to peer around him, up and down the street, making sure the passers-by can't hear anything. Sure enough, if they were avoiding one angry werewolf on a full moon, they're avoiding two sitting together drinking hard alcohol. "I's making talens," Olga explains, eventually. "They agreed to search out some stuff for me. I needed the bones of a bullfrog that'd never touched sky, and the tails of nine rats 'at'd died of no violence. I'm sure it was hell on 'em to find, but they managed. I was pretty impressed. I offered 'em to teach 'em a Rite, in return, but y'know, that was just quid pro quo, just sweetener. They's willing to do it anyway." This doesn't sound to earnest, but she covers it up with a sip of whisky. "Anyway what I'm saying is from where I'm sittin', that kid isn' too bad, so go light on him for me, eh?"
Cole tilts his mug towards the Theurge by way of a toast as he listens to the story. His features scrunch up as the first swallow kicks like a mule, but it's an appreciative sigh that escapes. Then he's back to listening to tje story in earnest. "They are pretty good," he allows. "'s funny you should mention him, though. Had a talk with my half moon, Rayanna about him earlier."
Olga sips a little more: she draws it through a thin hole in the lips, like she's sipping tea, just like a duchess. "Yeah?" she asks, interested, still wary of those who might be manning the sidewalks in the service of surveillance, eyes twitching here and there and even occasionally shuffling her whole body around to look behind. "I didn't know you had a Philodox, never heard of her. What'd she say about 'im?"
Cole snorts expansively. "She just came back. Spent her cubhood here. Pretty girl, little bit too cheerful, though." He shakes his head. "Anyhow. She was pissed that she didn't know that he was a-" He cuts himself off, glancing around as if suddenly realizing they're in a public venue. Not as if he really need worry, of course. "Well, knew some things that he'd done. She wanted to know why I'm letting him teach the new cubs."
"A -" Olga begins to question, but then trails off. She mimicks Cole's glance almost exactly, then takes a sip of whisky to steal herself for the question. Instead of anything coherent she merely says, unbelievably as a hair-salon gossip, "No!"
Cole flicks his gaze up from the rim of the cup. "No what? You didn't know that he was a charach as a cub? Or didn't know that 'm letting him teach cubs?" His voice, little-roughened by the spirits, holds a note of caution in it.
"I-" she begins, uncertainly, breaking off just as quickly as before. Despite the fact that she's already checked for humans around, she leans in close to whisper conspiratorially with whisky breath, "Tell me it wasn't Basil."
Cole's features pull up in a mask of perfect disgust. A telling expression if ever there was one. His breath, for the record, is likely worse from his earlier exploits. "Thank Gaia, no. It was with Feilyn, the cub of the Shadow Lords. Gone now. Killed by one of her own in frenzy, I think." From the frost in his tone, he's shedding no tears. "Does everyone really not know this?"
Olga's shoulders rise and fall within a surplus army jacket that shows hardly any movement. "I dunno," she admits, blankly, taking another sip from her whisky. "I been gone to Spokane since two weeks ago or so. How's the kid now?"
Cole matches her sip of the drink, although he doesn't partake near so daintily as his companion. "Not so good, I guess. His pack had this silver shit put in darts to fight the Dancers. Well, it worked well. But Jason ended up getting stuck, along with Ferret of Fidelity." And here a thread of worry laces his tone. "Never seen anything like it. He's turning blue, like a damned smurf. And he has no energy. Jason! No energy!" He hushes himself quickly thereafter, realizing his voice is rising.
Olga's "Shit," is immediate, dirty, and followed a half second later by her downing everything she has left. It burns and striates, her eyes are bleary and blinking as she asks immediately "What can I do?"
Cole looks into the dregs of the mug, finishing it off with a long, sustained swallow before he answers. "Don't know. I know that the healing touch you guys do is only helping so much. I think it's kinda holding it still. And he's getting these pills from a Walker kinfolk, I think. Says it'll help remove the silver from his blood in a few weeks." This last one, from his tone, is extremely dubious. "Do you know anything that might help clenase his blood? It's not Wyrm, so the Cleansing rite didn't take. I don't think at least."
"Oh, Jesus, Walkers?" Olga asks, as sharply and with as much faith as if Cole had announced that Jason was being treated by Dr. Kevorkian or Hermann Goering. "Tainted blood? Fuck that chemical shit. Put him in a bath of leeches. Every little while, you just turn him to Glabro. The leeches'll keep doing their thing, sucking out the blood and the poison, he'll put that blood back in him, and when the silver comes too much for 'im he just shifts back. That's the way you deal with tainted blood!" Olga answers, with authority she doesn't feel. It's evident by her ensuing silence, by her gravitas and withdrawal, as she pours more whisky for the both of them, that she's not too sure about this obvious procedure.
Cole seems to agree with the first part, holding out his mug to her for a refilling. The second part, however, garners a noteworth reaction. A visible shiver from the Fianna, along with a paling of the features. "Uh. You sure about that, Duchess? I mean, if the silver's in his blood, shouldn't being in the human skin be his best option?" He sounds uncertain even about his postulation, though. "I mean, I'm guessing. Do you know any spirits that do that sort of thing?"
Olga sips at what remains of the alcohol more broodingly, now, as if she herself is considering Cole's objections like they're new to her. She drinks it like the cup is a straw, her thin upper lip fluttering as she does. "Well," she admits, with a more automatic glance up and down the sidewalk, "I could look, if you want. But if you're already going with Walkers, they're likely to come up with somethin' 'fore I am. I mean, they have all their labs and experiments and shit. I don't think you're likely to get the spirits to do this for you in entire. It'll take leeches - or, sure, pills or whatever shit." She doesn't sound entirely convinced about this last, but also seems willing to sulk over her whisky about it without comment.
Cole appears less than pleased at the mention of leeches again. The whiskey is bolted down in a rush, and it's fairly obvious that the Fianna doesn't really feel the kick. A slight slackening of his features here, a rounded syllable there. The Fianna's feeling the first four fingers of liquor already. "'d be grateful if you could, though. The pills stink of a little too much Aunt Spider, if y'know what I mean? Like I said, 'm worried 'bout him."
Olga shows uncertainty, either of her cure or the man's expression. "Hey if it's workin', it's workin', right?" she asks, her tone light and not entirely sure of itself, her intention obviously more to soothe the Fostern than to make her point. "I'll look into it as I can but no guarantees, spirits're fickle." Olga's not so touched by the liquor - it's her first of the night - and glass in hand, she stands on strong awkward legs. "I know what you mean, I got debts to this kid too, I'll do what I can."
Cole seems soothed. Whether it's because he expects something or the fact that he's done what he can, there's a weight visibly lifted from him as he, too, stands. "Thanks, Duchess, I really do appreciate it. And the drink." The tin cup is offered back to her. He's not wobbling at a stand still, so that speaks to at least some competency to see himself home. "Think 'm going to head home, though."
"Pro'ly a good idea," Olga answers, standing already, her pot of change forgotten as no-one's been by this last ten minutes. "I'd offer you the drink to take with you but I'm sure y'got some tucked away under your pillow." The drink has touched her, apparently, but she's certainly neither had the volume or the time to incorporate it. "The spirits'll tell me whatever they'll tell me," she calls out after him, more loudly than perhaps she should, heedless (or perhaps intending) of the fact that others will hear her.
Cole starts to meander off in the direction of home (and here, the young man's drinking tells, for it's an uncertain gait). "'t somethin' better than that, an' that's Ellie," he responds with, in reference to the drink. He pauses in his steps when she calls out and turns enought offer a smile. "Thanks 'gain. Mother watch over you." That might be intentional of him as well, disguised as it might be in a more Christian vein. Then it's off with him, presumably to the dubious comforts of an apartment with a two month old infant.
It takes Olga just a few seconds to process the mention of Ellie - then she's spouting almost as an autonomic reaction, "Hey, you can get it up, all power to you!" She herself remains by the entrance of the park, sitting down again, her pot in front of her, her gaze on the street around and the park behind, as much on those who avoid her as on those who don't, but a grin wider on her face than the one with which she met him.

Fri, 12 Dec 2008 07:29:42 GMT

Currently the moon is in the waxing Full Moon phase (84% full).
Currently in Saint Claire, it is a cloudy day. The temperature is 44 degrees Fahrenheit (6 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from variable directions at 3 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 30.48 and rising, and the relative humidity is 93 percent. The dewpoint is 42 degrees Fahrenheit (5 degrees Celsius.)

The grotto is wrapped in thick shrouds is mist this early in the morning, the cold of last night yet to be chased away by the relative warmth of the day. Cole is a dim figure in that mist, hard to spot. His voice makes it easier, though, raised as it is in song. The Fianna seems to be singing to himself, sitting at th edge of the pool. "Another day of made-to-measure history...I don't care if your heroes have wings, your terrible beauty's been torn.."
Rayanna has looked at you!
There's no singing from Rayanna. Her climbing down to the Grotto is careful and determine, a solemn frown planted on her features, though even that somehow manages to be alluring (much to her consternation). "Cole," she says, turning the mist in spiralling waves as she descends within. And then, right to the point. "/Why/ didn't you tell me Jason was a charach? And /why/ is he teaching cubs?"
Cole cuts off his song when his name is called, looking over to the source. A smile blooms, and he stands up. Of course, the smile doesn't last too long. In fact, it's rather quickly replaced by a scowl. "I had thought you'd heard it by now from someone, if not me." His arms cross over his chest. "He's teaching the cubs because there's about a metric fuckton of them, and he's able to do the job." His handsome features seem to remain so, even wreathed in a scowl.
Rayanna folds her arms over her chest and jacket, looking grim. "Teach them what, charach? And how was he punished? Every person in this sept should know what we did. It should have been apparent the moment I walked in, instead of being /embarassed/ as I was in front of the Silver Fang Elder for not knowing." Notably, the young woman isn't make presumptions of dominance, but her conviction and confidence are clear, and she /is/ very displeased.
Cole grits his teeth. "Jason has changed," he utters. "He'd be the first one to speak out against breaking the first tenet, Oath-Sealer. Every person in the Sept does know who was there at the time." The stubborn Fianna Elder snorts. "He was punished as I saw fit. Punishments he won't forget anytime soon. He had to wear the mark of his shame on his face for all to see, and bear the very symbol of his crime around his throat. And that, half-moon, is on top of the beatings he recieved."
Rayanna does not seem impressed. "I have /killed/ charachs for their sins, Cole. I have forced them to have /true/ children to make up for their transgressions. I have ruled they be treated as metis without honor by a Sept so they would /understand/ what they almost created. Beatings and public embarassments are what you do for lesser infractions, not something so /serious/ as charach." Sighing angrily, the suddenly adult woman rests her fingers against her forehead and closes her eyes briefly. "It would be pointless for me to punish him further. But our ways are not that of the Children, Cole. We may make merry and brew spirits as a tribal past-time, but we are intentionally not forgiving to those who know the way of things and yet flout them so carelessly."
Cole utters a growl, sounding so very out of place in that human throat. His eyes darken as they sometimes do under intense emotion. "Well, how wonderful for you," he retorts. "Feathers in your hat for dealing with charachs, huh? If Jason had fucked the Shadow Lord bitch flagrantly, or multiple times, his head would still be clattering about the cave back there. But it was a one time thing. I think it's disgusting, and people wil lnever forget that he did it. But I will not kill one of the few members of our tribe here over something he did as a dumbass cub. Unless you forget that the cubs are not held to the same strict tenets of the Litany as we are?" His voice is still rich with anger, probably a side effect of the moon. "Oh, and if you wanted to see a half moon of the tribe punish him as he ought...maybe there should have -been- one."
Rayanna carefully masters herself. /She's/ not going to get all growly. So there. "My father's dead," she retorts. "So you don't need to worry about him tugging me away to the Faerie Ring again. Had I been here instead of /risking my life/ to save a falling Caern from banes, you can be assured I would have done something about it. And it's clearly not so obvious, nor often talked about, since I've been here for more than a month and didn't hear about it until just /yesterday/. That's what I'm upset about, because I totally enjoy looking like an idiot in front of lupus Silver Fang Fostern Elders. And I'm sure newcomers to the sept will enjoy that same, unique pleasure." The woman drops her hand and sighs, glancing away and suddenly looking very tired.
Cole seems to have no compunctions agaisnt getting growly. "I'm sorry if you didn't hear all the dirty laundry when you came back," he says, probably the closest by way of apology he's come yet. "But something -was- done about it. It was a mistake of passion made by a dumbass cub. He took his punishment, and his name will never be clear of it." He takes a moment to master himself, visibly rallying. "I never claimed to be a half moon, Rayanna. There were non here, and I was not going to let a Shadow Lord or Child of Gaia sit judgement of my tribe. I did the best I could. Looking at Jason now, do you think he is a bad Garou? Think he's likely to charach around every corner?" His tone is quieting. Still surly, but not with that bright, sharp anger.
Rayanna glances back. "I think he's a reckless Ragabash with loose loins," the girl quips, but frowns as she realizes she's describing Most Fianna Ragabashes. But she must admit, "Though I haven't seen any hint that he would, no. But that doesn't mean anything. I think he doesn't understand dominance and rank as well as he should. I think he can be irreverent, and is likely to be clawed one day, but I suppose you could blame that on his auspice. Either of those can lead to charach, however." She shakes her head and washes her hands of the subject. "But I'm done. Thankfully Blackriver-rhya didn't get on my case about it."
Cole seems content to let the fight, if that's what it was, go. "I'll agree with you there. He has lots to learn about when it is right to try to break down tradition and when it should be followed. But he proved himself during the raid on Traitor's Grove. Assuming all that silver in him doesn't kill him...there will be time." The Galliard frowns, shaking his head. "This shit was easier when Megan-rhya was around."
Rayanna rubs her head as if doing so might relieve some stress. "Megan-rhya?"
Cole grunts. "The first Righ I ever knew. A half moon like you. Adren. And Alpha of the Sept for all of my cubhood. She's in Boston now, or so I hear. Got pregnant, got horribly injured having the brat. Didn't want to suffer people to tend her wounds."
Rayanna suddenly rubs her stomach unconciously. "Oh. Well, I hope she's all right."
Cole lets out a breath, nodding. He doesn't notice the motion, which might be for the best. His gaze is on the pool again, or more likely firmly in the past. "I do too. Maybe she'll come back some day. 'd be glad to see her again." It sounds like there's alot of affection there, buried beneath the surliness. He lets out a deep breath. "Look, kiddo. Sorry. You should have been told, and that's my job as a Galliard. During all the shit going down, I guess I forgot." He now turns to look at her, a hint of a smile playing over his face. "But just try and remember I've got a fairly good handle on the Fianna thing. Try to teach me a lesson about my own tribe again, I'll kick your Disney Princess butt all around this clearing, okay?"
"I forgive you," Rayanna begins to say, dropping her hand. His latter comment indulges her to stick out her tongue. "I'll challenge you up and down this clearing if I think you need a poke in the right direction. That doesn't mean I'll always /win/, but." She shrugs a little. "You're still my elder, and I know what that means."
Cole seems appeased by that, nodding. "That'll have to do, I guess. So, anything else on your mind? We had a pretty good little argument going there. If you wanted we could probably still end up trying to pound the crap out of each other."
Rayanna folds her arms over her chest. "How Gladiator. I'd challenge you to a runway battle!"
Cole cocks his head, a rakish grin spreading. "Runway battle, huh? You think you could hold your own?" He rises to his feet, raising a brow.
Rayanna snorts, holding out a finger. "/Who/ was the model here, bucko?"
Cole taps his chin, as if actually considering the question. "Okay, you've got me there, Rayanna. But, yeah, I think I'd still come out ahead. What can I say, people like me." The arrogant Galliard half-heartedly strikes a pose of sorts.
Rayanna wiggles that finger. "Don't think the menfolk will choose you over me, Mr. Pomp. Anyways." She lowers her hand and moves towards the cave. "I've been out all night. I'm going to rest a little bit."
"That's Mr Pomp-rhya," comes the immediately rejoinder from Cole. He gestures towards the cave as she looks over. "Sleep well, Rayanna. I'll be around for a bit, then I'm going to head towards Edgewood. Gaia watch."
Rayanna waves and replies with a yawn, then dissapears.

Cole and Auggie discuss the New Fang in town.

Fri, 28 Nov 2008 03:43:24 GMT

Grotto
The woods part suddenly, here, amidst the quiet roar of falling water. A wide stream spills over the edge of a rocky face that is the western edge of a hill some thirty feet high. The stones are worn smooth with the passing of time, and are slick with moisture and soft mosses, but a climb up the drier rocks would not be impossible, and there is a sense of space behind the falls.
A wide pool has been carved into the earth by the rushing waters, and the tall trees have grown out around it, sheltering the grotto in a pleasantly-cool shade. Rocks, hewn from the cliff face and shouldered along the path of the stream, form a rough ring around the edge of the pool and guide the flow of water further westwards, again deeper into the woods. All manner of animal tracks are visible in the sandier areas of shore; the trees crouch close against the edge of the stream again as it passes further west, muting the dull thunder of the falls.
Faint trails, between the trees, lead off in all directions, while a determined climb eastwards would crest the rock face.

Currently the moon is in the waning Crescent Moon phase (29% full).
Currently in Saint Claire, it is clear outside. The temperature is 48 degrees Fahrenheit (8 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from the north at 3 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 30.13 and steady, and the relative humidity is 71 percent. The dewpoint is 39 degrees Fahrenheit (3 degrees Celsius.)

Hope-Turner comes to the edge of the grotto this cold November evening, and like always, sends out a polite howl before entering.
Cole seems to be in residence, as that familiar voice rises in answer quickly enough. "Come on in, brother. Got some news to share with you, if you haven't already heard it." Cole's standing by the shore of the pool.
Currently the moon is in the waning Crescent Moon phase (29% full).
Currently in Saint Claire, it is clear outside. The temperature is 48 degrees Fahrenheit (8 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from the north at 3 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 30.13 and steady, and the relative humidity is 71 percent. The dewpoint is 39 degrees Fahrenheit (3 degrees Celsius.)
The Gaian trots on in, and makes his away around the pool to where Cole is standing. He seems in relatively high spirits, judging by his posture and gait. Hope-Turner has news also. You first!
Cole turns to face Hope-Turner, smiling faintly at his packmate's mood. "One of Jana's relatives is coming to town. I got a call from some arrogant prick of a kinfolk about it." The Galliard shrugs. "Wants to know about her death."
Hope-Turner chuffs impatiently as Cole speaks. She's here! Hope-Turner met her! He shifts up to homid, before continuing. "S'creepy, she looks almost just like her. Seems a lot... cheerier though. I told her some stuff and told her to talk to you, cuz she had questions about how," and here his mood dampens somewhat, "Jana's body was recovered."
Cole clears his throat, looking away and at the ground. "Fuck," he intones with real feeling. "Just what I want. We never did get her, Auggie. By the time we were able to get the war party formed, she was completely gone, man." It looks as if this fact bothers him more than a little.
August' frowns. "Ah, shit, I didn't realize." He tenses, then shrugs a shoulder, releasing it. In a quieter tone, he says, "No matter. You and I know she went right home to Gaia, she found her way. S'just... maybe gonna be hard to explain to family."
Cole sucks a breath and nods. "Yeah, it may be. But they're gonna have to suck it up and like it. So, tell me about her. I gather her name is Zosia, and she's a Sulkowski too. Must mean she's fairly closely related."
"Cousin," August replies. "I thought she was her sister when I first saw her. But yeah. Seemed cheerful, polite, well-bred, fuckin' snooty, but - you know, Fang." He snorts and shakes his head. "I didn't get to talk to her that long."
"Y'ever notice how the Fangs have more kinfolk than the Fianna, but only half as many last names?" Cole gives an uncharitable snort, seemingly cranky. "But yeah, guess that'll be for a fun conversation. Probably Uncle Fuckin' Piyotr wanting to know. Waited long enough, though."
August' rolls his eyes. "I know, right?" He picks up on the Fianna's cranky mood, and cants his head sympathetically. "What's wrong, brother?"
Cole shakes his head quickly. "Bah, not much, really. Just, hearing about this new Fang coming to town's had me thinking about the past today. Combine that with teaching the cubs and all that, just feeling stressed, y'know? Could use another bar fight or somethin'."
August' sighs lightly. "You've got your share of cubs now, dontcha? Lemme know if you need help training any fat moon kids." He squats down to rest his bottom on a nearby boulder. His pursed lips show some disapproval about the bar fight, but he only mutters, "I know how you mean."
August' nods slowly. "Gareth, eh? We just got a new one ourselves. A no-moon." He frowns at Cole, trying to read his packmate. "You... sure you're okay? I can take over your patrol if you're tired!" He smiles earnestly, doing his best to be helpful.
Cole's smile grows a bit at his packmate's effort, become more sincere. "Busy times, I guess. It'll pass when I don't have what, five, six people looking for housing and not knowing what the hell they're doing. At least Ray's back. She's helping out alot, too. What's your guy called?" The offer to take over the patrol gets a thoughtful look. "I might actually ask you to do that. Haven't spent a night at home in a little bit, and Ellie and Meggy are probably gonna wonder where I got to.."
August' nods. "He's called Darius. Smart kid, I think he'll do fine." At Cole's acceptance of the offer, he nods. "Sure thing, man. But, on one condition. You take us out after this Zosia stuff gets dealt with, cuz I think I might /need/ a drink after that."
Cole laughs, and it's genuine. "You got a deal. It'll be my treat, and I won't even start a brawl this time. How about that?" He cuts a sly glance towards his packmate. "Besides, taking you out to drink is almost free. One drink, and you're leaning against the wall and slurring."
August' chuckles sheepishly. "Yep," he concedes. "I'm just a one-hit wonder." His hand goes down unconsciously to rest on the fabric his scar.
Cole shakes his head when he sees the gesture. "Maybe, but you got it for a good reason, man. Just ragging on you is all." He tugs his flask from his belt. "I'm gonna have a swig or two to protect against the cold. Care to join me?"
August' smiles. "Okay. It /is/ kinda chilly." He tugs on the flaps of his hat, gathering them around his face. "So... remember what I was tellin' you at the pool hall? About the wolf? Well, I kinda, accidentally, erm, kidnapped someone. But let them go. And it's all good now."
Cole's eyes widen for a moment at the confession, and his gaze is completely on his packmate. "Wha? C'mon man, more details than -that-!" He takes a belt of the swig, then passes the whiskey-laden container over.
August' takes a tiny swig, and passes back the flask. "So, that old wolf scent came through our territory again. I trailed it back to an old clearing, and it lead to a /bicycle/. So, I waited for the bicycle's owner to come back, and it was this kid, and he smelled like the wolf, so I figured he was Garou, like Dancer or Ronin or somethin'. So," here he looks down, "I beat him up and dragged him somewhere, and questioned him. But he didn't shift, and really the kid was scared shitless of me, and said he did research about wolves for someone named Dr. Meeko, and /then/," he he pauses, wrinkling his nose, "I found out it was his bag that smelled like wolf, and not him. So I let him go."
Cole frowns at that. "Dr. Meeko. That sounds strange. I wonder..." He takes another swig, then caps the flask and puts it back on his belt. "Okay, that's something I'll look into, see if I can find something about. Wonder if this wolf is something that came from the good doctor's handy work. A stupid, odd-smelling wolf. Y'think it could be Weaver-tainted?" There's a look of distaste on his face as he mentions it.
August' purses his lips. "Not sure. But this kid had silver on 'im, and that set off all my alarm bells. Name was Forrest Archer." He sighs. "Haven't smelled the wolf since, though, and I think that it happened... uh, Wednesday night?"
Cole nods, obviously making mental note of the name. "Okay, more stuff to check up on. Wednesday's still too close for comfort. I don't like strange wolves in our territory." He runs his hands back through his hair. "You told Blackriver about this?"
August answers with a negative grunt. "Haven't. Should." He cants his head. "Was thinking about asking the Walkers to check up on those names, also."
Cole nods emphatically, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. "Yeah, makes sense. You do that, I'll see if anyone else I know might have heard of them. Can cover more ground like that, yeah?"
August nods slowly, his eyes going distant. "Yeah." He hugs his arms around his chest, and is silent a minute, before asking out of nowhere, "Do you know the Rite of Contrition?"
Cole blinks once, but then nods. "Yeah, sure," he responds cautiously. "Why do you ask?"
A slight smirk comes to August's face. "Silvertip was askin' me about it. I think he wanted me to teach it to him." Here, he surpresses a little chuckle, and his light expression slowly fades into a frown. "But, yeah, it got me thinkin'. There's things I've done... that might warrant it, had they been more recent? At my rate, I'll probably need it sometime."
Cole snorts. "You thinkin' about teachin' it to him if you did know it?" There's a slightly sharp edge to his words. There's obviously still no love lost between himself and the Wendigo. "I can teach you, sure."
August shrugs, posture becoming markedly submissive when the edge comes into Cole's voice. "If he asks me again, I won't say no. I can imagine why he wants it," the Gaian mutters. "But that's not why I'm askin' you."
Cole shakes his head quickly, obviously trying to rid himself of the fit of temper. "Sorry, man. That guy's always rubbed me the wrong way. Probably springs from the time when...no, wait, it's pretty much every damned moment of his life."
August comments very quietly, "I'm not sayin' he ain't a total dick. But he could wipe the floor with me. Like I said, if he asks me for somethin', I'ma give it to him." His posture slowly relaxes.
"Yeah, well, make sure you get a good price from him if you do," Cole responds, still grumpy. He kicks idly at a stray stone. "'s kinda funny. It's Reggie of the Uktena who taught it to me in exchange for...y'know, I can't quite recall what I taught him in exchange. It was just a bit after Jana...well, you know. I thought I needed to apologize for things, so I jumped at the chance."
August looks down, following the path of the stone as it tumbles down the rocky bank before landing in the turbulent water with a 'plunk.' "You... weren't the one who needed to apologize for things."
Cole shakes his head quickly. "Oh, no, not for that. Not for how she died. She took the point. Always had to be such a...such a Fang about thing. No, it was for missing the Gathering entirely. Reggie knew I had, so he played it out that I should probably apologize for missing it." He grunts. "Guy's smarter 'n anyone gives him credit for. Anyhow, the rite's probably worthwhile to have anyway."
August nods. "'Kay." His cheerful mood he came in with has been infected by the topics, and by Cole's own grumpiness. He hugs his arms around his chest tightly. "Well, I don't have much in return to offer you. Silence, I'd bet. Cuz you know Cleansing and Talisman Dedication, yeah?"
Cole perks at the mention of the last rite, turning his eyes on his packmate. "Actually, I don't know Dedication yet. Y'want to make that a trade?" He flashes a grin, looking up at last about something.
August raises his brow. "You don't?" He seems surprised, but does crack a small grin. "Okay, that works."
Cole shakes his head, ruefully. "Always keep meanin' to learn it. So far, I've had to have Aubrey dedicate everything I wear. Means I usually only wear the one outfit until it wears out, or something." He shrugs once more. "But no more!"
August lets out a mirthful snort. "Yeah, don't go crazy, Mr. Wardrobe. You can only dedicate as much as you have the spirit for." He lets out an amused breath and shakes his head, previous glumness almost forgotten.
Cole makes a playful (yet obscene) gesture in his friend's direction. "Oh, I know that. But at least I change change what I wear every once in a while without having to beg my local Theurge!" This truly seems to excite the Fianna.
August smirks. "Dude. Honestly? That's like the first Rite you're s'posed t'learn." He casts a mock-condescending glance at the Fianna. "Could show ya right now!" He gets up, managing not to stumble on the loose rocks of the Grotto's bottom.
Cole grunts, giving the Ahroun a playful shove as he rises. "Just show me, and can it with the editorial commentary. Punk." He sniffs as if offended, but it doesn't seem to dampen the grin.
August is able to keep his balance, and shove right back at the Fostern in turn. But he's quick to get to business, hand going into his pocket to produce a small-bladed knife. Since when did the hand-me-down kid get nice things? He flicks open the blade, and zips open his dufflebag. "Let's dedicate a sock to you. Unless you have somethin' else you'd like?"
Cole shakes his head, all signs of horseplay disappearing as he gets into student mode. "That works fine. 've seen the Fianna version of things a few times. Should be interesting to see how you Gaians do it."
August takes out a sock, a knitted wool-type thing, and it at least seems clean. "Nothin' fancy. You take some of your blood, sprinkle it on the object to be dedicated." He indicates for Cole to hold out his hand.
Cole makes a sound of mild surprise in his throat. "Huh." He extends his hand as indicated, seeming not too nervous about it at all. "Same thing for us, except we add the juice from a clover and a bit of spit too. Fire if you really want to be fancy to heat it all together."
"Yeah. Well, we Gaians could add Rowan berry juice and put fuckin' quartz crystals and prisms on top, but that's all pomp and circumstance, tryin' to appeal to the spirits." He grins. He takes Cole's hand and makes a cut no deeper than necessary, the sharp blade slicing him quickly. The Gaian wipes the blade on the sock, and gestures for Cole to hold his hand over it while he speaks a prayer.
Cole does as he's directed, wincing only momentarily as the blade slices. He turns the cut palm over the garment, eyes slipping shut as August intones the prayer. "Huh, good to know."
August nods. "You can practice that, and y'know, you've probably heard it done enough in your tribe, y'can direct it towards th' right spirits." He holds the sock out towards Cole. "'Gratulations, you have a sock."
Cole lets out a laugh at that last, slipping the sock onto his injured hand. Then he rises up into crinos, and the sock predictably expands around it. ~There. No cut, and now I've got a sock puppet.~ He shrinks back down, tugging the stained sock off his hand. "Thanks, man. I'll have to practice it, give it a shot. Y'want me to show you Contrition, now?"
August shakes his head. "Nah. You learn Talisman Dedication good first, then you can concentrate on teachin' me. 'Sides, I don't wanna spoil my good mood." At the very mention, a slight frown tugs on his features, though he shakes it off.
August also asks, of the puppet, "What's his name?"
Cole nods, flashing a lopsided smile. "Sure thing. Thanks. 'm sure once I got this down, I'll get lots of use out of it." He looks down at the puppet, contemplating for a moment. "I don't know. Maybe 'Stained'. Or 'Tide'? You gonna want this thing back, or something?"

Halloween! (Long)

Wed, 19 Nov 2008 01:18:09 GMT

>

Kent Crossing, East Side
The sparse buildings which rise around you could alternately be referred to as quaint, rustic, or ramshackle, depending on your point of view. Most are constructed of wood, rough mortar, or some combination thereof; they huddle just back off the potholed tarmac of Highway 22, most sporting wide porches upheld by old square-hewn columns and large signs with faded paint depicting their various purposes. Bushes and evergreens are scattered in amongst the buildings, as well as a fair amount of open dirt; to the south, a pair of rusted old train tracks meander their way out of the west and curve gently southeast through the forest.
Highway 22 runs east-west past the buildings, further into town to the west, or out of town to the east. An old, poorly-tended road weaves south into the trees. On the north side of the street, the local inn/tavern stands between the two

other wooden buildings.
Contents:
Rommy
FeilynDEAD
Rite of the Hunting Grounds
Obvious exits:
North West East Thompson House Women's SHelter White Stag County Line Road

GM okays. "So. You people. Each of you has come across a black cat of spirity nature, carrying candy in SOME way. Cole's has a plastic pumpkin bucket in its mouth, August's has a small pillow case with about a handful of candy in it, Rommy's has a plastic grocery bag with a bag of mixed candies (which it's having considerable difficulty with), and Jack's is just carrying a box of chocolates in its mouth. Jason won't have a cat he's following, since he's been investigating the area."
The All Venerable GM says: The cats are pitch black, with white glowy circles for eyes, and they have no features except for what shows in their outlines as they move. They're also inky. They seem to have wisps coming off them like ink suspended in water. And they're all converging towards Kent's Crossing.
The All Venerable GM says: The cats are manifested spirits. Also, http://www.ourpetplanet.com/uploaded_images/115399_56182_827831e78c_p-726660.jpg . So they're "flesh and blood."

It's a curious pair who find their way towards the quieter side of Kent's Crossing. The packmates Cole and Auggie are following their strange feline companions curiously. Cole seems fairly in control of himself, while Auggie seems less so. In fact, the uncharitable might go so far as to say August is 'blasted' or even 'shitfaced'. "C'mon, man," Cole mutters. He's dressed up as if for a costume party and his costume is that of the Headless Horseman. A white linen shirt ends at the neck, and the voice comes from somewhere in the chest region.
Jack, meanwhile, is tailing his cat on foot, eyeing it dubiously. It had found him just outside of town at a gas station; seeing a spirit-cat with a bar of chocolate perched atop of a gas pump is enough to raise a few eyebrows. He watches it a tad warily, though he has a cigarette lit and occasionally takes a pull from it.
August stumbles along after his packmate. His 'costume,' if it could be called that, is a thin white undershirt with the word 'GUCCI' written on the front in black sharpie. "Mebbe they's spiral kinfeffs. Or spies of the Wyrm," he stage-whispers suspiciously at Cole. "'ve gotta bad feelin' bout this," he mumbles, path meandering.
At some point in his normal patrol of pack territory, Rommy ran across (almost quite literally, as he had been jogging). Damn cats! Of course, the odd smell caught his attention, and he follows the creature deeper into the city and the less patrolled areas of the territory. He's not wearing a costume outside of currently looking like the fonz with a shaved head.
"Only one way to find out," comes the muffled voice of the horseman. Cole keeps his pace sedate out of consideration to his impaired packmate. "If they are from the spirals, we're pretty fucked. You couldn't handle another swig from the flask, much less anything else. But why would they be carrying candy?"
The cats are each doing their things. August's and Cole's cats are busily working together, and encouraging each other with chitters of Spirit Speak. Everytime one lags behind to re-manifest, the other waits, and then needs to re-manifest itself as

well, and it's generally a very strange little circus. The other cats continue apace, with the same sorts of behaviors, unwavering in their dedication to get to Kent's Crossing, with CANDY.
Jack stops as his cat drops the bar of candy, taking a drag off the cigarette. He, being a stick in the mud, is decidedly not dressed up for Halloween. "If you're wyrmy I swear..." He grumbles under his breath, starting up again as the cat trots down the sidewalk again.
"M'fine," August grumps, picking up his pace a bit in an attempt to prove the point. He narrows his eyes as the two cats chirp at one another, wrinkling his nose somewhat and unconsciously sticking his tongue out. "Now what the'hell do'ya supposh they're up to?" He sways.
Rommy pauses as his cat nearly dumps candy all over the ground, and seems rather displeased with itself while it snaps at the bag again for a better grip. The metis just sort of stares at the thing and follows, mystified.
Cole snorts. He's taking the situation rather well, if the tone of his voice is anything to go by. "No idea, but they're working together. Y'think they want us to follow them?" The oversized shoulders rise in a shrug, and the Fianna ambles onward after them.
Those who are in the city may notice that the cats are completely unnoticed by people and completely silent, but as the cats walk by others, the humans tend to scratch their legs without thinking. Cole's cat looks back at him, bucket in its mouth, and gives him an expressionless stare, then trots on ahead in the manner of a Cat with a Plan. Upon entrance of the city, all cats are silent.
Jack eyes the people as they pass, and eventually his cigarette is snuffed out and his hands are pushed into his jacket pocket. He stays casual as he continues tailing the feline - or, really, as casual as a ragey garou can. At least people avoid him a bit.
August somehow manages not to trip as he skitters along after the cats. Just before the forest turns to houses on the outskirts of Kent's Crossing, August stops and puts a hand against a tree. "Man, you go on ahead, I'll catch up," he calls to Cole. The Ahroun shifts up through the forms to hispo, presumably to detoxify for a moment. In the process, his 'costume' is shredded.
Rommy continues to make his way through the farmland, abandoned lots turning into more cultivated fields with white-washed farmhouses and the like. Eventually, he makes his way further towards the city, rubbing his teeth self-conciously.
Cole shrugs in response to the cat's glance back at him. "I sure as hell hope you're not bad luck," he asserts as he starts to make his way into town itself. Auggie's statement gets a 'sure'. "I'll keep an eye on your kitty, too." He does his best to avoid the majority of people he sees, which, considering he's roughly six and a half feet tall and headless, is more or less easy.
Jack avoids the people along the sidewalks, and he still eyes the cat with increasing suspicion, but is not particularly obvious about it. To the outside eye, he just looks faintly grumpy. Blah.
Hope-Turner tries not to lag too far behind, just taking enough time to clear his head (and bladder) before shifting back up to homid. He picks up the remains of the shredded t-shirt and jogs after Cole and the cats at a quick pace.
Jason emerges out of the forest at a light jog on the heels of another spooky kitty, this one carrying a Scream mask and trying to balance a few bits of candy in it. It's not working well. The Ragabash is hauling along his own plastic pumpkin bucket. Whenever the cat stops or slows, he also slows, keeping a generally safe distance between him and the spirit.
As our intrepid heroes and their shady cats--pun intended--make their way towards the center of town, it becomes apparent that these cats are not the only ones. The trail of candy on the ground from dropped buckets and containers gets thicker and with a startling suddenness, there are cats. Everywhere. They're all headed to the same point, walking on roofs, through walls, across crates. Those that have to re-manifest while standing on something find themselves shooting through the surfaces, candy very much not in tow. To this end, random passersby are getting pelted by small handfulls of candy and buckets. The general assumption is well-summarized by an older man shaking his fist at the room. "Damn hoodlums!"
Rommy slows his journey in the city once he realizes just how /many/ of the cats there really. Rubbing his head, he says, ".. Holy."
Cole can't help but let out a laugh. As strange as it is, seeing people getting pelted with various Halloween implements tickles the Galliard. This lasts until the moment a little plastic skull bounces off the neck of his costume. Then, somewhat shamefacedly, he continues. "Auggie, this gets weirder and weirder."
Jack doesn't quite stare at the crowd of cats. In fact, really, he barely hesitates, though he exhales a slow breath out, giving a glance around - trying to surreptiously note exactly /where/ they're all headed to. He also grumps as he gets pelted in the shoulder by a piece of candy, shoulder hitching slightly as he sends a sidelong glare at the culprit. Hmph.
August manages to catch up to Cole without much difficulty, now that he's unimpaired. He looks at the cats suspiciously, even more so now that their numbers are apparent. He doesn't seem too amused by the candy-dropping antics. "Still got a bad feeling about it."
Jason's cat picks up the pace as it gets closer, and Jason breaks into a run to follow it. As he gets close to the city, he takes in the mind-boggling number of spirit cats in surprise. The street-clothed Fianna brushes by a Headless Horseman talking with a shirtless dude, eyes still on teh ground and following the cats.
Following along, Rommy lifts up the collar of his jacket and stuffs his hands into his pockets. He idly wonders if spirits poo.
Cole grunts as a blonde-headed shape brushes past him, then speaks in a mock-spooky, sepulcheral tone. "Jaaaassooon, your time has come, we have come to claim youuuu." Auggie merits another snort. "Not disagreeing, it's fucking strange." And still, he follows.
The cats all seem to be headed towards the center of town, to a fountain. The area is pretty deserted. In fact, it's completely deserted. That is, except for the GIANT HERD OF CATS. They all seem to be sitting their with their candy, waiting for something.
Jason spins around and holds up his fingers in a cross at Cole, slowly backing away. "Away, spirit! I've already sold my soul to Bailey's and Pizza Hut...oh, hey Cole." The boy drops his hands, grinning, "You know, I know being a father is hard, but it's nothing to lose your head over."
August snorts and shakes his head at the exchange between the Fianna. He takes a few paces away from them, keeping a wary eye on the cats as they congregate around the fountain.
As the various groo approach the fountain, a kid who'd been hanging way back fearfully tries to stop them. "Don't go over there, man, it feels like, it feels like...like bad stuff, like..." But as he gets nearer to the groo, their Rage scares him off instead, and he squeaks running the other direction in terror.
Jack spots August after a moment and angles over that way, looking grouchy in general. Though, the kid's words draw his attention over, and he eyes the kid as he skitters off. A glance is given to the area in question, eyeing it and all the felines.
Rommy eventually rounds a bend, following his cat like a hunter. Then, however, there's a host of familiar scents, and he strays from the creature a bit, sneaking over towards August and Jason with the intent of resting a stealthy hand on both of their shoulders.
Cole rolls his eyes, as impossible as it is to tell. "Harhar, good to know we're not the only ones here. You're drafted, kiddo." When the kid protests, he turns as if to make an answer, only to find he's run already. "Well, can't say we weren't warned, can we? C'mon, into the breach!"
Jason snrks and taps two fingers against his forehead in a casual salute to Cole. "Whatever you say, boss-man. Now we just gotta find out where the eff these cats are heading. Oh, sugar-rush?" He holds up the pumpkin bucket, and it's full of assorted candy, offering it to them.
Jason snrks and taps two fingers against his forehead in a casual salute to Cole. "Whatever you say, boss-man. Now we just gotta find out where the eff these cats are heading. Oh..." He holds up the pumpkin bucket, and it's full of assorted candy, offering it to them. "How about a sugar-rush before batt-GAH!" The hand on his shoulder gets a grab around the wrist and the ragabash is stepping away, attempting to twist the grabber's arm around...but stops when he sees who it is. "Rommy, geez man..." Jason laughs, letting go.
August peers after the kid as he runs, troubled by the situation. But the younger Ahroun is on edge, and now that he's not inebriated, there's little that escapes his attention. Hearing the familiar footfalls, he spins to catch Rommy in the act. Jason's reaction does bring a smirk to his face, but it fades rapidly.
As the cats wait in front of the fountain, about half of them turn their heads to stare at the garou. The other half keep staring at the fountain, and the water starts slowly turning orange. *Mama is here!* one chirps -- and somehow the party can understand it. A clatter of breath and purrs and small cat sounds descends on it, and it flattens its ears against the clamor. Apparently most of the cats are under their own little Rite of Silence. Unfortunately--especially for Rommy--all the cats reply, *Mama is here!* and all of their crashing, meowing, purring, chirping, spirit talking, bucket dropping, and candy eating sounds descend upon the area, multiplied by the hundreds and hundreds of cat spirits.
Jack finally arrives over to where the garou are collected, looking grumpy. "Th'hell is goin--" And then, there is a veritable feline a cappella, and Jack hisses out a sharp breath, eyes locked on the fountain.
Jason gahs in surprise, dropping the bucket he's carrying so it spills half its contents on the ground as he claps his hands over his ears. He watches the water turn orange with a look of mild shock... "It looks...like they're summoning a Tang spirit."
Rommy grins and offers Jason's arm a firm pat. To both August and Jason, he flicks his head towards the cats. "Both of you following these ca-TAH mah duh hwoon dahn!" The metis claps his hands to ears and turns away, crouching down, swearing something that sounds fiercely innapropriate and rather Chinese.
Cole pauses, almost finding the first cat's reply endearing. If only it wasn't all so damned cryptic. The two new Garou each get a nod (which ends up looking more like a bow from a headless man), apparently accepted at face value. "Who's your mama," he asks of the spirits. Or starts to. Then the cacaphony starts and it chokes off in surprise.
August just blinks and frowns at the cats when they /talk/, and the flood of noise brings a grimace to his face. A horrified, questioning look flashes from Cole to Rommy to Jack, as he brings his hands up over his ears.
The Rite of Silence repercussions dies down after a pretty short time. Half the cats again start hopping into the fountain and disappearing. The other half stare at the garou. *You are expected!* they chorus, as one. *Mama wants guests for the Day of the Thin Veil!* As if to reinforce this, a jovial female voice calls from, apparently, across the Gauntlet. *Yes! My favorite day is here! Please, come, join me!* And it seems they don't have much of a choice, as the remaining cats, thoroughly manifested, start to surround and herd them towards the portal.
Jason actually laughs a little at this, turning a glance back at the rest of the Garou around him. With just a shrug, Jason stoops to pick up the plastic pumpkin bucket off the ground and half-walks half-jogs towards the fountain at the vanguard of the group.
Jack gives a quick glance back toward the street, as though checking for people, though he finds himself getting herded by...cats. "They seriously want us to--" It's cut off at the end as a dark expression crosses his face. No, not happy.
Rather still busy rubbing his ears, and momentarily quite deaf, Rommy stands slowly, and turns towards the assembled Garou, wincing and frowning heavily.
August tries to force himself away from the cats as he's herded, not really kicking the feline spirits (that would be disrespectful) but nudging and prodding with his feet and shins. "This has to be a trap," he growls.
Cole starts to move forward as the cats push them along. "There's hundreds of 'em, looks like we're going no matter what, might as well make it a party," he asserts. Head (or lack thereof) held high, he marches towards the portal with Jason. "Of course we'll come to see your mama! On our way, ma'am." This last is said to the disembodied voice.
The cats keep piling up, herding them all in, regardless of what they feel like doing. *Mama likes candy! Bring her candy!* The chorused voices is a little creepy. *I do,* giggles the female voice. It sounds a little young. *Please come visit! I do so love when the Veil is thin!*
Jason pats his bucket as he hops up on the fountain's edge. "I've got the candy. Coming in...I guess." He looks into the fountain dubiously, but then bravely plugs his nose and hops into the rippling, opaque orange waters.
Jack glances sideways to the Headless Fostern, and he quite clearly is not particularly pleased with this turn of events. Glaring at a cat as he nears the fountain, the philodox snorts at Jason as he bails in, and seems quite content to go about crossing over in the normal way.
Rommy can't fight (or doesn't have the energy after that sonic assault) the inexorable flow of the cat-spirits, and so with a heavy, rather irritated sigh, allows himself to be pressed forward. "I'm punching somebody after this," he says, perhaps too loudly, ears still ringing.
August crosses over begrudgingly, snarls from the Ahroun audible even over the din of cats as he voices his displeasure to the cats. He even forgets his manners and slaps a few of them away from his face.
They are all tossed into the portal and the world turns upside down. When they arrive in the umbra, the cats have become normal, less creepy housecats. Or they would be less creepy if it didn't look like they had skulls painted on their faces. They all gather around a girl, about 7 years old, beswathed in a short, punky black dress, a big black witches hat with orange flowers, and black and orange striped stockings. Her eyes are bright orange, and her face, framed with straight black chin-length hair, lights up in a smile. *My guests!* she chimes happily, clapping her hands together. Behind her is a table, completely covered in the trappings of a feast. All around them are huge decorations of all different kinds, practically screaming Halloween. Beside and behind the girl is a tall thin man in black attire, with a giant jack-o-lantern for a head. *Indeed,* he responds dryly to the girl, flame spurting out his mouth.
The garou look a little different. Cole looks the closest to how he did, except now he can see. Except, it's from a different vantage point, as his (still fully functional) head is now cradled under his elbow. His real severed neck now fills the place where his costume's neck once was. He continues to live, breathe, and function completely normally.
Jack is decked all in black, and with a cape. Jack...is Batman.
Rommy has gotten fuzzier. His jaw is covered in scraggly 5'o'clock shadow, and his hair, dirty blonde, extends past his shoulders. His teeth are the same, but much has changed about him. He's Sabretooth, from X-Men.
August is now big, thick, and his eyes have completely yellowed -- cornia included. One arm is bigger than the other, and his skin is red. He's Hellboy.
Jason is blue, with three-digit hands and feet. A long devil's tail protrudes from his coccyx. Nightcrawler.
Cole stumbles a little once he appears, the new vantage point soemwhat disorienting, to say the least. He actually almost drops himself before he catches hold. "Holy fucking shit," he gasps. Before turning his head to face their apparent hosts. "Uh, begging your pardon, ma'am. I seem to have gotten ahead of myself." It's doubtful whether he knows he's doing that.
Jason takes one moment to look at his hands, his skin, his forked tail...and he yells out, "Fucking awesome!" There's a PAF! of blue smoke, and Jason is standing by the little girl with a big grin on his face. He puts the pumpkin bucket in the pumpkin dude's arms. "I brought candy." PAF! He's sitting on August shoulders, holding onto his horn subs. "This is the best Halloween /EVER/!"
August has to catch his balance before he can even take in the scene before him, out of whack due to the heavier arm. He steadies, then peers around. Cole gets a stare, and the Gaian clears his throat and looks down. Uneasily, he makes his way over to the table.
Jack, dour and grumpy, finds himself in a billowing cape and in a suit of pure awesome. He takes a moment to stare, and then hisses out a, "God damn it," seeming slightly exasperated. However, he straightens, imposing in all his Batman-glory. And, despite all of it, he says dryly but not without a certain amount of humor, "All this and I don't even get th'Batmobile? Seriously."
Rommy, growling with no lack of irritation, somehow seems taller and larger than he was before. And the hair. The man tugs at it. Ow. "What the /hell/," he half-snarls, flexing his free hand. Which promptly spouts claws from the fingertips. The metis stares at them. "Okay, that's new." Hoping for the best, he touches his teeth. Still there. "/Damnit/." Figures.
Pack> Cole says "A strong shock of alarm goes over the packlink. "HOLY GODDAMNED SHIT I'M A FUCKING HEADLESS GHOST!""
Pack> August says "Nothing intelligible from Auggie. He's all !!!"
Pack> Helen says "Whaaaaat the fuck?!"
Pack> Cole says "Cole seems slightly less...excitable now, but is still tense. "I'm the fucking headless horseman in the Umbra!""
The girl gasps in delight. *Candy!* she chimes. The jack-o-lantern man hands her the bucket with a sigh of defeat. *She does this every year,* he confides in what seems like fond exasperation. The girl meanwhile takes a handful and throws it in the air, spinning happily. *The Day of the Thin Veil!* She tugs on her hat brim and it drops down to cover her body, only to rattle back up like a window shade and reveal her as a cheerful, dancing skeleton. She spins her skull, her body spins with it, and now she's in a traditional white-sheet ghost outfit. *Today is the day we feast in celebration of the dead! Today is the day we honor the spirits in all they do! Today we honor Gaia with food and joy and fun! Ohhhh, I'm so glad the humans thought of costumes. It's such a fun idea!* She bounces, back into the form of a witch again.
Pack> Helen says "Dude. That sucks. What'll your wifey and kiddo think when yo ucome home? Ha ha!"
Pack> August says "...Spirits are fucking with us. It's... it's not real."
Pack> Cole says ""Helen. Shut. Up."
Pack> Cole says "I do not even want to think about what this all means, and that doesn't help."
Cole looks distracted for a moment, but the celebratory air definitely catches his attention. As does the change of forms! "All honor to Gaia and those who have gone before," the Fianna mutters, lifting his head in a 'salute'. "So, uh, hey. I guess we party!" Well, someone's getting into it quickly enough.
Pack> Helen says "They like to fuck with us. Go with the flow, boys!"
Jason taps his heels together at that, the end of his tail flicking in the air in thought. "Honoring Gaia with food, joy, and fun? Dayum, that's an idea I could get behind!"
Rommy still can't quite seem to get over his hair - running his hands through it, sniffing it. Once he notices August, however, he takes a surprised step back. "Whoa!" And then Jason, who's peered at. "Jason?" Head reeling, he turns to the girl, then Cole. "Is that really /wise/?"
Jack just stands there stoically and eyes the girl and his temporary companions, black-clad hands folding in front of him. Quite dubiously, at that. And then, Batman eyes Rommy, and snorts in agreement, though doesn't say a word yet.
August fidgets at the edge of the table, before moving to stand next to his headless packie. "I guess it's all right," he mutters. He eyes Rommy, then Jason, then Jack (and his costume does get a slight smirk). "This isn't real. Spirits just like to fuck with us, so." He gestures at the table set before them.
You paged Rommy with 'A worming tendril comes from the Galliard, and the Galliard actually turns his head with his hands, facing you. ((She fucking took my head off. I'm going to play really goddamned nice until it's attached. And if she's on the level...this could be goddamned awesome! And it's good to finally meet this 'Rommy' person.))'.
Rommy pages: The chill of adrenaline (and creep factor) can partially be felt through the link, the metis narrowing his eyes slightly at the disembodied head. ((... Cole-rhya? Auggie's packmate Cole-rhya?))
You paged Rommy with 'Cole himself emits more than a bit of that same adrenaline feeling. ((Yeah.))'.
The girl plants her hands on her hips, regarding Rommy petulantly -- and it is SUCH a Heather look to her too. *Honoring the spirits isn't wise? It's a celebration! A celebration of those whose lines remain untainted, and a memorial for the lives people and spirits and Garou lived before they fell to the taint. It's a celebration of life and death and a cycle in everything! And one of the best cycles of /all/ is the digestive cycle! I put a lotta work into this, including having my friends get all kinds of candy for me, and now I have my guests! /Plus/ I won't turn you back if you leave, so nyeh!* It's a playful threat, but a real one nonetheless. This is confirmed by the jack-o-lantern. *She's right, you know. She's an Incarna of Cunning.* The girl bounces. *Treats and tricks are equally wonderful!* she chimes.
Rommy pages: Certainly not comfortable with the situation, and more than a little angry (hey! he's Sabretooth!), the metis concedes. ((... Yeah. point. If she doesn't screw us all over.)) Pause. ((And nice to meet you to. Proper introductions after, hey?))
You paged Rommy with '((Let's pray. And deal.))'.
Jason looks down at August and blinks, looking offended. "This isn't real?" BAMF! He's standing in front of Hellboy, one hand on his hip, the other poking him in his malformed arm. "This isn't real? Well I'll tell you what, it's real enough to me. I don't know if--" Something the girl says catches his ear and he looks back over his shoulder. "Wait, so if I leave now I get to stay all teleporty?"
Cole shoots Rommy a look by simpe expedient of literally turning his head towards the Gaian. He moves to sit at the table, setting his head down on the cloth. "Samhaine! The -true- name of the holiday! So everyone just enjoy. It's good for you." Then he turns his head (again, literally) towards the pair of spirits. "Thank you for having us, spirits. What are your names?" Jason's antics get a wry grin.
Rommy meets Cole's look and seems to twitch a little. Talking disembodied heads tend to do that to people. Attempting to slide his hand over his head and getting hair instead of bald, the metis grumbles (how characteristic!) and also takes a seat at the table, motioning for the others to do the same. "Fine. See? I'm staying."
August huffs and smacks Nightcrawler's hand away with his 'normal' arm. "D'ya mind?" he growls. Turning his back to the Ragabash, he moves to pull his chair out with his huge stone arm, miscalculating his strength, and splinters it, the wood tearing apart with a resounding creak. Oh dear. If the red-complected demon could blush, he would. "Sorry!" he cringes at the spirits.
When his elder takes a seat at the table, Jason appears in the spot next to him. BAMF! He's really getting his money's worth from this.
*Do you really want to trust a Cunning Incarna?* The Jack-o-Lantern says dryly. Everytime he speaks, flames spew from the pumpkin's carved mouth. It's /badASS/. The girl merely titters happily and grabs a brightly colored cupcake from a pile. It /is/ quite a huge pile. *Baasically, what'll happen, is whatever you don't want will happen. So if you leave, you'll turn back into regular ol' Garou you. And if you stay, you'll get to PARTY before you become regular ol' Garou you. I don't want nothin' from you guys, I just want some company! To celebrate with you! It's my /favorite/ day!* As the other gather around the table, she looks utterly gleeful. She's literally walking on air. Or, well, skipping in this case. She smiles brightly at August. *Don't mind the chair, it's fine! There's plenty!*
Suddenly there's a nose in Cole's hair. Snorf. Snorf. Should he turn around, there's a black horse standing there, with flaming eyes. Snorf. Whuff. It paws the ground. Well, you can't be a headless horseman without a horse, now can you?
Eyeing the others once again - and then eyeing the spirits - he starts forward toward the table, cape billowing about him. He finds a seat at the table, still as stoic and unchanging as ever. He startles a bit at the appearance of the horse, just a bit, eyeing the creature dubiously. Still, not a word for now.
*Nina!* chimes the girl. *Well, sort of. Someone gave it to me at a party like this years ago. I like it!* The Jack-O-Lantern merely offers a *Jack.* And seats his spindly self at the table.
Jason grabs a handful of candy corn and starts popping them into his mouth repeatedly. "Really?" he says to the spirit girl, Nita even. "Well, I think it should be noted that I would /hate/ it if Rosario Dawson were sitting naked in my lap right now. It would be absolutely horrible." He elbows Cole and throws him a broad wink. A little odd since he's elbowing to the side and winking at the head on the table in front of him.
Cole looks like he's about to say something more, then his hair is snorfed. It's enough to drag a yelp of surprise from the Fianna. "Ah, Gaia, Stag, Luna and Jesus!" Cole just has to turn himself to see, eyes still white and wide. "O-oh. Of course, of course. Nice horsie?" He reaches out to pat his hand along the horse's muzzle. The comment from Jason makes him smile. He really tries valiantly not to. He really, really does. He fails.
Rommy -Sabretooth eyes the various foodstuffs on the table dubiously, and abstains. "Who's Rosario Dawson?"
August sits /carefully/ in another chair, and he finds some Reeses pieces in front of him. He munches on a few, more out of politeness than hunger. He nearly chokes on them when the horse appears out of nowhere behind Cole. He coughs, and pounds himself on the chest (again with the correct arm!), then reaches for whatever's on hand to drink. To his delight finds the ornate goblet in his hand full of Pabst Blue Ribbon. Down the hatch.
A piece of candy corn bounces off Jason's head as he turns to stare in utter horror at Rommy. "You don't know Rosario Dawson?? She's only the Incarna of Hotness, the Sultana of Sultry, the Goddess of Gotta-Have-It! If your life doesn't have Rosario Dawson in it, it's not worth living." This last part is said with finality, and a bit of a pitying look directed at Rommy.
*As you wish!* chimes the girl. And there...is Rosario Dawson, next to Jason, arms draped over him. There is Rosario Dawson, full lips, luscious hips. There is Rosario Dawson. And she's a zombie. She plaintively chews on Jason's head. *Any other requests?* Nina asks brightly.
Pack> Cole says "There's a sober moment of silence from Cole. ((Fucking Christ. I was almost going to ask to see HER again.))"
Rommy peers at the zombie dubiously, then turns to Jason with a heavy frown. "You want to mate with a wyrm-thing?"
Jack, too, abstains from eating or drinking, and he gives a bemused snort at Jason. "Well, you got what y'wanted," drawls Batman, amused.
Pack> Breaks-the-Cycle says "((Who is her?))"
August now snorts his beer at the zombie's appearance. "Gah!" It seems eating and drinking aren't his strong suits.
Pack> August says "((DON'T.))"
The unreality of the whole thing gets to Cole, if it hadn't already. He bellows a deeper-than-usual laugh, strange because he doesn't even have a connected diaphragm to power it. "Hah! You should have asked for 'no teeth', Jason!" Reaching out, the fostern grabs a handful of Reese's peanutbutter cups. He eats a couple of them (WHERE DOES IT GO WHEN HE SWALLOWS?), then holds one out to his new equine friend.
Jason turns his head with this huge smile on his face...and there are teeth in his scalp. The boy blinks, watching forlornly as one of his gorgeous woman's breasts falls off and rolls under the table. "Well...crap," is all his can manage to say. Instead, the boy knocks the rotting corpse backwards off the bench. As it falls, he reaches out and grabs her head, popping it off like a grape off it's stem. The blue boy just drops the twitching head on the table beside Cole, grinning broadly. "At least I can say I got head from Rosario Dawson."
The zombie falls over twitching, off the bench. The head rolls onto its side on the table, lolling. Then her glazed eyes fix on Cole's attractive, very close head. She chews the air in his direction, making odd gurgly noises. *You did ask for it!* Nina grins. Jack-o-Lantern pours himself a tall glass of wine. Cole's horse gladly eats the Reese's, and chuffs pleasantly.
Rommy just sighs, folding his arms over his chest and sinking into his chair. Such a worthwhile 'costume' and nothing to fight. "August," he says in a deadpan. "I'm having so much fun. Tell me how much fun I'm having."
August wipes the beer from his mouth with a sleeve and his gaze flicks to Rommy. "Dude. You're having so much fun right now, and you don't even know it." His enthusiasm just about mirrors the other Gaian's.
Jack half-turns to see Rommy, eyeing him with less than terrific enthusiasm. "I am never trusting a cat ever again," he drawls, evenly and dryly, and it's probably the truth. Ah, garou.
Cole rolls his eyes, then focuses on the head of the starlet near him. Delicately, the Galliard reaches out with his free hand and picks up the head by the hair. It gets rolled across the table to fall away onto the ground. "There is that. And you should thank our hosts for that! Nina and, er, Jack, thank you for having us. This is...the most interesting thing I've ever seen." He seems pleased enough with what's going on. Then he flicks his gaze towards the Gaians. "Guys," he croons. "Let's not be bad guests, huh? I propose a toast!"
Jason lightens up, picking up a mug of...yup, that's grape soda. Awesome. "Good damn idea, Cole. So umm..." He raises the glass up towards their hosts. "Most interesting and memorable Samhain party I've ever been to, Nina and Jack. And that's saying something!" Technically, both those statements are true. He turns his yellow gaze to the spoilsports down the table.
"Oh, lighten up and just ask for something. It's more fun than sitting around moping."
The sound of beats and theatrical screaming is heard, and a hoarde of zombies shuffles their way to behind the table. R.D.'s corpse joins them, and they start shuffling out to Thriller. *Those are entertainment for the night. I saw it once, very strange. You could watch them. Or you could fight them if you want! Anything you want I'll give you!* She seems excited at this prospect.
Rommy eyes the girl. "When you say 'give' and 'want' you mean 'offer a twisted version that satisfied a particular vein of humor,' yeah?" He's not yet lifting any drink to toast. What a lump.
August raises his glass silently to Cole's toast, and considers. Hellboy gives the zombies a dull glance, and then he looks back to Nina hopefully. "Can I have... a Gibson Flying V guitar that shoots death rays of heavy metal to fight them with?" He steeples his fingers, big hand against small, in anticipation. More quietly, he amends, "Couldja make me be able to play real good too?"
Rommy turns to August and blinks. "I think I understood about half of that."
Jack-Batman eyes Cole. "I'm still waitin' for my damn Batmobile," he says, flatly, and then eyes the Zombies with a certain amount of dubious tension. And then, he eyes August again. Wat.
"Thriller. Nice touch." Cole rises from the table, leaving his head still sitting there. His body bows at the waist towards the hosts, an elegant movement. Then he reaches out and picks up a goblet full of a fine, rare mead. "To our hosts, thank you for the best hospitality I've ever had. To those who have passed on, we're still thinking of you. Some of you, every day." Cole's face, on the table, looks somber. It doesn't last, though, as the goblet is tilted into the head's mouth.
Jason raises his mug in solidarity, nodding heavily to Cole's words. "Cheers, to the living and the dead, may they both find happiness." He knocks back his drink, some of the purple liquid spilling across his blue skin. That done, he slams the mug down and hops out of his seat to BAMF! over to the other side of the table among the zombies. "Alright, you shambling Bob Fosse's, let's see what you can do." And...yep. Yeah, he's doing the funky chicken.
The zombies regard Drab wearily, pausing in their dance, then going at Thriller with great intensity. Well, as much intensity as a zombie can have anyways. Yeah, that's it. It's a dance-off.
Nina smiles at Rommy. *No! I want you to have fun! And you don't look like you're having fun.* At that moment a guitar appears in August's unwieldy hands, to his exact specification. The tuning knobs have what appear to be red LCDs on the end, but August knows with his /mind/ that he can shoot lasers with it. Also, despite the huge bumbling nature of his fingers, he can play it very well. At the same moment, the roar of an engine is heard. BATMOBILE. It roars around the bend and rolls to a comfortable stop.
August finds his wish come true, and with a whoop of joy hops onto the table. Despite being ampless, his first notes reverberate loudly, as he launches into the American anthem Jimi Hendrix-style. At the same time, he unleashes a purple laser into the crowd of dancing zombies, and one evaporates into a pile of dust. "Badass!" he crows, thoroughly cheered.
Jack looks infinitely satisfied as the batmobile pulls into view. To Rommy, he says, "/I'm/ going to go check it out." In there, somewhere, is some sort of invitation. And, avoiding the laser zombie show, he heads over to the batmobile. Ohho, keys are in it, too!
Rommy watches August with brows furrowed and a mask of disbelief. Shaking his head, he reaches for a goblet of something, and raises it in a belated toast, though he doesn't drink anything from it. "I appreciate your thoughtfulness, Nina, but there's nothing I want that you can give me." Pushing himself up from the table, he bows respectfully, cup lowered. "I honor the ancestors in my own way." Jack's 'invitation' draws his attention, and seems infinitely better than the awkward situation at the table, so he begins to head in that direction, albeit at an easy, slow gait.
Cole looks over as August blasts a zombie from existence. He looks suitably impressed. And the Batmobile? Just...holy shit. Then he lifts up his head, turning to face Nina. "I want to ask for a favor. I have someone I want to...no, need to see. Can you bring the dead back, like they were?" There's no glee, no joy in his voice or expression now. In fact, he's uncharacteristically somber. He lays a hand against his erstwhile mount, running his fingers through the horse's mane.
Nina starts to ask Rommy a question, but he's turned away. She looks mildly disheartened. In the meantime, BZORT, DEAD ZOMBIES. There's vaporizing zombie dust left and right as August goes nuts with his new guitar. Jack's batmobile is fully functional, and as the distance opens up, there seems to be stretch upon stretch of road, with obstacles, stock baddies, killabitch all around! *Hmm?* Nina asks Cole. *Oh...well, no, actually. The dead usually go on, do other things, become other...particles? before they come back to the living. Or they may already be incarnated. I'm sorry. Is there somethin' else though?* Her eyes are pleading. Please? Please? Something else?
August thrashes fiercely on his guitar, sending laser beams ricocheting all about the place, but thankfully none hit any of the celebrants present, save the zombies. Eventually, he tires of the new toy - it's too easy to keep Hellboy's interest, and the notes die just early enough for him to catch a snippet of the horseman's request to Nina. He gives his packmate a Look, rank be damned. That's just not good.
Jack gets into the batmobile, letting Rommy in the other side if he so wishes. Hah! Holy shit! /Batmobile/. For now, he doesn't pull out, just absently looking the thing over and seeing what all it's capable of. /Bat/. /Mobile/.
Jason is just dancing along in the background, ahving taken up the lead dancer role after the head zombie was disintegrated by August's blast.
Rommy looks over the sleek machine rather placidly, just not quite getting it. "What's a batmobile?" The following glance over his shoulder is directed at Cole. "I think she wants you to pick something entertaining, Cole-rhya."
Cole nods, or he would if he had the leverage to do so. In any case, his expression falls. "You have no need to apologize. You're already giving us this awesome gift. I, uh." He considers for a moment. That pleading expression makes him stop, try to think of something. The Look is missed, but as if he can sense the emotions directed his way, his shoulders slump. "Fuck you, Auggie," he says without turning. "I had to try." It's not angry at all. More like resigned. But Fianna don't stay sad long. He nods to Rommy's assessment. A look of sudden understanding splashes over his face. "My family. They once had something, a long time ago, that was lost in battle to the Wyrm. A grand klaive, by the name of Stag's Horn. I want it. Or as close as it gets. I think those zombies have danced long enough." He looks hopefully at Nina again at this, and then gestures toward his mount. "Come here, boy."
Nina brightens at this. The horse comes over and the Klaive is pressed into Cole's hand. Nina pops a cupcake into her mouth, beaming happily, then starts taking out giant kerchiefs and filling them with food. Nom. The batmobile is fully and completely decked out in everything Batman has ever used it for. It's a MONSTER of a machine. August's guitar starts doing light shows with its lasers. It's pretty impressive.
The demon that is August's face falls and his shoulders slump at Cole's "fuck you." "I was just concerned for you. Whatever." Hellboy sighs down at the guitar at it does its best Close Encounters of the 3rd Kind impression. He slumps down into a chair and begins picking at it absently, playing a more grim and forboding tune.
"Only th'most awesome car ever," Batman replies to Rommy, turning the car on and bringing it to life with the rumble of ...well, a lot of horsepower. "Get in." He seems somehow darkly satisfied.
Rommy peers inside the thing curiously. "This thing has gotta be filled with pattern spiders," her observes reluctantly, slowly easing himself into the passenger seat.
Cole takes his head under his elbow, and looks at the blade in his hands. It's a look of exaltation on his face now. Man, highs and lows! Then, as if born to it, he vaults into the saddle atop the horse. The huge blade glistens in one hand, incised with Fianna runes. "Jason, might want to move. It's time to RIDE!" And with skill that's not his own, he kicks into a gallop, bearing down on the zombies.
Jason turns in the middle of a dance step to see a horse bearing down. His eyes widen and he yelps in surprise. BAMF! He's now riding on the back of Cole's horse, facing backwards and watching the trail of destruction the Headless Horseman is leaving behind. "Well, curl my hair and call me Ichabod." He turns around and grins at the back of his Elder, glancing at that klaive he's carrying. "Looks like it's been a good day."

You paged (Rommy, August, Jason, Jack, VenerableGM with 'http://www.catskillcomics.com/beckheadless.JPG'.

Zombies are laid to waste under Cole's mighty swing. Poof! There's a bag of sweet treats in everyone's lap, ready as a goody bag. Nina stands (or rather kind of floats upwards) and claps her hands. *When everyone is done,* she calls, *I would like to give one big exultation to the dead, to the spirits, and to Gaia! I think...I think your type kind of howls right? Well, you can do whatever but! That kind of thing!*
August puts the guitar aside, and well, it just kind of goes away when he's done with it. He grunts and nods at the spirit's suggestion, drains the rest of his goblet of PBR, and watches his packmate slay the zombies for a few moments. His hand goes into a pocket, and he absently brings out a locket, looks at that for a while until somebody else starts the howl. Then he joins in, as he is, not daring to try and shift right now.
Jason rises up onto both feet, balancing precariously on the back of Cole's mighty steed. He opens up his arms, puffs out his broad chest, and gives out the best howl his human-shaped lungs and vocal cords can give. It's a howl that is flawed, imperfect, but from the heart. Gaia's blessings on those who have passed! Greatest happiness to them in this life and in the next!
Cole turns his head around to face Jason, his grin showing far too many teeth. "Strange, but good, BAMF." As Nina speaks, he sighs, beheading one last zombie for fun. Then he lifts his own head to the sky and lets out a howl. A howl that even his lupine form might be jealous of. And there really is exultation in his voice, a fierce joy he sings out to the dead. The living remember, it says. The klaive is lifted to the sky, too.
The batmobile is taken for a spin (poor Rommy), though Batman proves to be a fairly skilled driver, though whether that's his own skill or not is unknown. The car slides back into place neatly (and man, that thing handles awesome) and the doors open with a hiss just in time for the candy to appear and him to be able to hear the words of the girl. He steps out of the car and shifts - oh, hey, batcrinos - and he howls, as well, though a little less loudly than the others.
Rommy works his way out of the batmobile a bit dazed, but not so much to not add his voice to those currently echoing in the air in praise and thanks.
The haunting, shrill note of singing from Nina's voice sings through their exhultations. And then it seems like the voices of thousands, millions are rising with them. The air reverberates with clean, healthy energy. And close to Cole, he might hear the sound of his lost packmate, howling with the rest. And Riot and Cael, and Felix, and all the dead all giving voice to their celebration. *Honor them tomorrow!* Shouts Nina above the din. And then in whirlwind it's all gone, and they're in the middle of Kent's Crossing clutching their respective bundles of sweets.
For just a moment, it's as if Cole's face lights up from within, and as the howl fades away, he's wreathed in a beaming smile. He doesn't even have time to respond before he's suddenly clutching a bag of sweets instead of his head, face still pointed towards the sky. "Yeah, I'm gonna do just that," he mumbles.
Jason sucks in his breath at the sound of that howl, his own catching in his throat. He spins around and finds himself staring down the dark expanse of the Kent's Crossing at midnight. The ragabash's heart catches in his throat and, with trepidation, looks down at his hands. Pink, like usual. He shuts his eyes tight, a rush of repressed regret and what-ifs suddenly hitting him from all sides.
August grits his teeth and shuts his eyes as the howl crescendos to include the howls of those deceased. "I do everyday," he growls out in response to the spirit, then opens his eyes and finds himself back in the Realm, locket still in his hand. He snaps it shut quickly and replaces it as he shakes his head, then dusts himself off a bit, checking to make sure his body is as he remembers it. "At least, I try."
Rommy's return to the Realm is a matter of relief, and a grateful, if sharp, exhale of breath. And then he realizes he's holding a bundle of candy. Huh. "I'll be honoring them as I patrol to make sure no wyrm-things take advantage of the evening," the metis mutters. "Everyone okay?"
Oppositely, Fallout's howl suddenly cuts off sharply, and the crinos' ears pin - and then the world twists and he's back in Kent's crossing, mercifully back in homid. However, his features wall over quickly, though he looks dark and guarded. Not a word is said, and he just shrugs his jacket up closer to his shoulders and drops the bag of candy in a pocket. Rommy's answered in a dry, "Yup."
A cat nearby rubs against Jason's legs, and then pads off, apparently a high-willpower critter. The night is silent. The air seems a little electric, and the Veil is certainly thin. It's midnight. Welcome to Halloween.
Cole nods his head. "Yeah." He sounds a bit shaky as he says it, though. "Fuckin' Gaia. I can't believe that. I mean, I do, but." He cocks his head, hearing the distant sound of a church bell. "Happy Halloween, everyone."
Jason opens his eyes again. "Right, happy Halloween," he smirks for a moment, then looks up at Cole. "Wanna go get drunk?" His tone is flat, but his eyes are begging his elder to say yes.
Rommy nods, slowly, rubbing a hand over his now-bald head, and feeling somewhat mollified because of it. He then turns to Cole. "Okay, now for that real introduction. Name's Roman Akana, but I go by Rommy, or Brother of the Wind Storm. I'm a metis Cliath full-moon of Unicorn's Kids, and alpha of Tenacity under the East Wind. Good to meet you."
August blinks as he regains his bearings. "I'll be damned." He scratches the nape of his neck, and looks at Cole and Jason. "Mind if I join ya? For company, not getting drunk. This time," he gives a short, rueful look to his packmate at the addendum. Jerking a thumb at Rommy, he adds, "Rommy's good people. The best in fact."
Cole offers his hand out towards the Gaian, still wearing the smile of a moment before. "Brian Cole, Cole to everyone. He-Whose-Words-Burn-Like-Dragon's-Fire, or if you don't have a year, Dragon's-Fire. Fostern Fianna Galliard, human born and Righ of my tribe for the Hidden Walk. Beta of Wildfire under Wyvern. Always good to meet a friend of my friends." And he sounds like he means it. August's question gets a nod, and a faintly guilty smile. "I think you really should."
Jason smirks at August. "Damn straight you can. And hell, everyone here's good people. S'not like you can leave anybody out here, right?"
The churchbells ring and the night goes on, and Jack only eyes the street with some amount of dark thought. The other garou are eyed momentarily, his jaw setting, and then the philodox merely gives his head a shake and digs out his pack of cigarettes, remaining slightly removed from people, though not moving to leave just yet.
Rommy offers Cole's hand a firm shake, and a broad, toothy smile. "Pleasure's mine." He glances to the perpetually brooding Jack and shrugs.
August brightens as the offer is extended by both Cole and Jason. "Cool." To Cole, "You still wanna make that party or try a bar? My ID /might/ work."
Cole shakes his head, his costume now open at the throat to reveal his face. "Nah, I think the talking that's gonna get done needs a bit more privacy, y'know?" He looks towards Jack. "Hey, Batman. You want to come with too?" He gestures in the direction they came from originally. "There's always a spot to sit and something to drink at the grotto."
Rommy thumbs towards the Tenacity House, to the north. "I think I'm gonna go get some shut-eye. Not that booze does anything for me anyways. See you all around, yeah?"
Jason smirks, counting all the people who would likely be coming. "If we're going to the grotto, I may have to stop by Edgewood and dig into my stash." He pats August on the shoulder. "Hey, if you guys need privacy, I can skedaddle. No hard feelings." The Fianna raggie offers a nod to his old trainer, "Hey, Happy Halloween, Rommy. Be safe, yeah? And I can't wait to see what costume you'll be wearing tonight." He grins.
Rommy snorts over his shoulder. "You're seein' my costume, dude."
Jason grins broadly. "Party pooper. What will Heather say?"
August shrugs at Jason. "Hm, yeah, no more alcohol for me tonight. Although..." He trails off as Rommy makes to leave. "Gaia guard Rommy."
Jack's attention is dragged over by Cole, in the midst of lighting the cigarette. A pause, and he rolls a shoulder in a shrug. "Think I'll get back t'the city," he replies, somewhat dryly.
Cole lifts his hand in a farewell to the pair. "Okay, well, Gaia go with you all, then. C'mon, guys, it's a long walk back." He gestures for Auggie and Jason to follow him.
Jack sort of mock-salutes the pair, and then limps off wordlessly on his own way, digging in his pocket for his keys.
Jason shoves his hands in his pockets and grins, catching up so he's walking alongside the Galliard. "So what've you got stashed back at the Grotto, Cole? I know I have a bottle of Bailey's and a six pack of Full Sail back at Edgewood."
August digs around in his dufflebag, finds a little plastic baggie (it's the plastic wrapper from a pack of cigarrettes, lit shut on one end) and stuffs it into a pocket. He moves to walk slightly behind the pair of Fianna, mostly tactiturn on the walk to the Grotto.
Cole grins at Jason. "Whiskey, and lots of it. Thats' what we're drinking tonight. Uisge means water of life, you know. And that's what we'll have." He walks on for a little bit, before something catches his attention. "Auggie, what is that locket? I've seen it like three times today."
August's hand goes to the locket, he takes it out again. "It's nothing," he mutters, but hands it over for his packmate to see. The thing is on a nice gold chain, but the piece itself is cheap. Plastic, even, with gold foil leaf covering it and flaking off. Like something you'd get out of a toy dispenser at the grocery store. It holds the picture of a girl, a brunette in her mid-twenties, cute but not pretty. He doesn't give Cole much time to look at it before his hand is back out, palm open, in silent request.
Cole takes the offered item, and looks at it, peering at the picture inside. When the palm's out, he lays it back down, smiling. "Nothing, huh? Who is she, Auggie?" His voice is soft, encouraging but not wheedling. "C'mon, with all the bombs I've dropped on you today about Jana, I think turn around is fair play."
August stows the locket swiftly, this time in his bag. "A girl," he grumps, sullenly, though he does go on. "Who I knew, at the Western Eye." He glances at Cole sidelong. "Who I ain't seein' anymore." Avoidant and stubborn, he focuses his eyes on the path ahead.
Cole shrugs his shoulders again as he moves into the night. "Because you don't want to, or she doesn't want to, or what?" Cole is not the type to let such a story go unheard. He shoves his hands in his pockets, tucking the packet of candies away for now.
"It's /not/ a happy story," August warns, though it's a half-hearted warning, and it's clear he's going to tell it anyway. "Dancer's took her. There was a raid on a kin house where she stayed. We found her, got her back, but..." He gestures vaguely. "Cleansing didn't help. They broke her mind. Guess you could say she didn't want to, then." He shrugs, trying to look impassive, and failing quite miserably.
Cole stops. Right in midstep, turning to look at August with a look of horror on his features. "Oh fucking god, Auggie. I'm sorry man. I mean..." He flounders for words, and for once, none seem to come to him. At last, he shrugs, sighing. "Damn, I'm sorry I gave you shit before."
August sighs. "Don't be sorry, man," he says, shaking his head slowly. His features tighten and some Rage comes to the surface, but he tamps it back down with surprising ease, given the circumstances. "C'mon. Let's go get you drunk, I'll get stoned. Fucked up shit has happened to us both," he offers weakly, but does extend a hand to Cole.

Graveyard chat.

Wed, 19 Nov 2008 00:49:57 GMT

Burial Mounds(#3207RJ$)
This wide clearing in the midst of short, dark pines is rough with wild grass and bare stone. The air is a bit cooler up here in the foothills than below, and the majestic peaks of the nearby mountains rear up over the eastern treetops. There is a vine-covered boulder standing under the edge of the somber evergreens to the east. The air here is prenaturally still and the grass waves not at all for there is no breeze that blows through the pines. It is silent, no call of bird thrown from the treetops to dance gaily in the open spaces. Occasionally chill fingers run up your spine.
There are +views here.
A faint path leading downhill to the west is the only exit from the clearing.
Contents:
August
Obvious exits:
Forest
Currently the moon is in the waxing New Moon phase (8% full).
Currently in Saint Claire, it is a cloudy day. The temperature is 52 degrees Fahrenheit (11 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from the northeast at 5 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 29.90 and falling, and the relative humidity is 86 percent. The dewpoint is 48 degrees Fahrenheit (8 degrees Celsius.)
August is standing in the ninth row of graves, the hood of his jacket pulled up against the intermittent drizzle on this cloudy fall day. The Gaian is looking at something in his left hand - from far away it looks like a necklace, a bit of sparkle catching on the chain that dangles.
Dragon's-Fire arives from the south, slinking quietly into the memorial for the honored dead. His ears tip forward when he spots his packmate, and he seeks out a questing tendril of thought even as he approaches. ((Auggie.))
August snaps the locket in his hand shut quickly - that's what he was holding - and stuffs it into a pocket. Over the packlink, Dragon's-Fire senses surprise, but no reply. The Ahroun turns and gives Dragon's-Fire a thin-lipped smile, stepping away from the graves. "Hey."
Dragon's-Fire emits a feeling of sadness as he looks at the first stone. This one knows this place well. First and last in this row, he notes. The first will always hurt the most. The wolf rises up into Cole's form. "I interrupting something?"
August lets out a breath. "Yeah I feel the same way," he mutters, giving the first stone a backward glance. At the question, he shakes his head. "Nope. Just havin' a think." He shrugs off some of his somberness, and cants his head at Cole. "What've you been up to?"
Cole turns his gaze back on the first of the graves, that of their first alpha. "I hated you for a little while, you know," he states, possibly appropos of nothing. He sounds almost thoughtful about it. "When you left, I was pissed, but it started just a little bit before that. Not big then, just a little hate."
August nods and grunts at the first statement, but his eyes widen in surprise at the second revelation. He lets out a long, slow breath through his nose, wheels visibly turning behind his eyes, his jaw setting in tension. "Okay," he growls, the word laced with confusion, hurt, resentment, and several other strains of more ambiguous meaning. More flatly, he asks, "Why?"
Cole jerks his head towards Jana's grave. "What she said in her letter to you." There's no vitriol in his voice, it sounds like someone who speaks of a past that's become distant to him. "It started that night we shared secrets with Prettytail, when we released her as our totem. You told us what Jana had written in that letter. Fucking morbid, writing out a dying letter, anyhow." He rubs the back of his neck, looking weary. "When she said she loved you, or could have, at least?"
August frowns. He closes his eyes at the mention of the letter, letting out another short breath. "Okay," he grunts, no meaning in the word this time, just buying time while he thinks up a response. His eyes snap open, and he glances at his packmate sidelong. "You were... jealous?" he mutters dubiously.
A faint smile tips his mouth upward. "Yeah." Cole shrugs his shoulders, turning away from the grave. "Yeah, I was. Hell, I'm surprised no one in the pack knew, honestly. Guess we weren't that good at getting secrets. Auggie, man, I fucking loved Jana."
At Cole's admission, August's frown is replaced by a slight smile as he releases a snort. "I knew, a little bit. Felt it more than knew. But like, it wasn't something you could say out loud. Back then," he says quietly. "About Jana, I mean. I didn't know you /hated/ me." Some tension and incredulity creeps back into his tone.
Cole has the good grace to look embarassed. "Not as if I do anymore. But you gotta understand, I was hurting from losing her, and then I heard that letter. It wasn't a good time. 've changed since. Don't even feel annoyed about it anymore." He steps back from the grave. "Still love her, but I know that you didn't have anything to do with how -she- felt. Talked about that to her after she died. In a dream, I think. Not sure if it was real or not. Nightmares I was having stopped after that."
August nods slowly, some sympathy creeping into his features by the end of Cole's explanation. Some recognition too, at the mention of a dream. His tension isn't long-lived. "Yeah, it's long past. Things're different now." He leans back onto his heels and looks at some distant point in the woods, letting the silence settle a moment. "Fuck. Despite my scar and all, I could use a drink."
Cole looks up, raising a brow. "What happens when you have one?" There's curiosity in his voice, some of the sombre tone falling by the wayside. "So, yeah. Figured I should eventually tell you that I hated your guts for a bit. Kinda thing that you should get out of your system now and then." It ends in a smile, a bit of forced humor.
August grunts an affirmative. "Yeah, it's better to let shit air out than bottle it up, I guess. I mean, uh, I understand why you did. I've had to have some shitty conversations about things I'm not proud of, since coming back, so." He winces, but seems none too the worse for wear. "Liver doesn't work at full capacity anymore. I'm a lightweight." The skinny Gaian shrugs and grins.
Cole clears his throat, loudly. "Well consider shit aired, then," he observes, then pulls the ever-present flask from his belt. "Here, if you think you can handle some Jamie's." The Fianna pauses a beat. "I'm still glad you're back, though. Couldn't do any better than having you in the pack."
August reaches for the flask, considerably cheered. "Oh rad, you have whisky?" He unscrews the cap deftly and takes a long pull, coughing a little as it goes down, though he's good enough not to backwash. He hands the flask back, grinning lopsidedly, face flushed. "Yeah, s'good to be back! Like I said, I'm just glad you'd have me."
Cole takes a swig from the flask as well once it's returned before laying it back in its resting place. "Of course. Want to get the hell out of here, man? Stay here too long, I'm gonna get drunk and sob like a little girl or something." His flashing grin belies the statement, though.
August gives a sharp nod at the suggestion. "Good idea," he mutters. The Ahroun looks to follow Cole's lead, zipping up his jacket.

Time of our Lives, pt. 2

Fri, 25 Jul 2008 04:46:18 GMT

The Wyld spirit lifts one arm and a five by five foot pillar of sand shoots out of its fist. Crashing into Reggie's chest, neatly knocking him out of the way and nearly thirty feet distant. Seems to have randomly picked its target, from the defending Garou. The arrow the spirit was attacked with, sinks into its side, where it rots and falls to the ground.
Endures-Pain sprints after Flood-of-Flame once she has finished her howl, ready for the battle.
Flood-of-Flame makes a surpised, high-pitched bark as Reggie goes flying, and watches with horror as Artemis' arrow simply rots at the touch of the creature. ~Don't touch it!~ he howls, and tries to darts to the the side, trying to get out of range of the creature's attacks. Bloods-Bane's eyes go wide at the sight. He starts looking around the beast for any weakness or some way to defeat it. Howls-For-Glory stands behind the sand monster, and throws a rock at it experimentally. Blotches, looking as dismayed as everyone else at the thing's seeming immunity, tries to sneak around the creature, to join Cole at the rear.
Pierces Ice snarls as the Uktena gets battered to the side. One of her ears flicks backward, all of the hesitation she allows before she rushes to attack the beast. True to wolven form, she strikes for the legs to disable. The intent is to keep it from getting to the heart of the caern. If breaking a leg is enough to turn it away, all the better, but if not, at least it will be slowed. Right behind her in the attack, White Bear rushes forward with his spear in a massive paw-hand, striking higher than his alpha. Untangler moves as the Glass Walker does. His hispo jaws seek purchase low on the leg opposite Jacinta. Bites the Belly of the Spider, after a signal from her alpha, hangs back. Crashing head over heels, Reggie finally drags to a stop, and untangles himself as he spits out a good amount of sand. Eyes watering as he blinks furiously, he scrambles to his feet and blurrily looks one way or the other to reorient himself, hands raised defensively, should the golem be right by him.
By the waterfall, ~The Stag said it rivals Chimera - can we summon Chimera to help deal with it?~ Pathfinder calls, still hanging far back from the creature.
Rifthealer turns and races back to Guards-the-Flame's side, gritting her teeth hard, frustrated. ~Can any call Chimera? If this thing is as powerful as the Lady is...~ Guards-the-Flame howls, ~Someone make sure Reggie didn't end up like that arrow!~ as she starts to dance back and forth before the creature, trying to draw its gaze for a moment, before rushing in with her claws blazing, becoming a fast, silver blur, hoping to find a spot behind the other knee. Three-Blades, at a loss, flattens her ears back as she sees Reggie get knocked aside like a child's toy. Hearing the theurge's suggestion, she perks, shifting to her warform as well and crouching to get a good idea of where to start attacking.
By the steam vents, Blurring fowrad, Lures-The-Beast and Endures-Pain zig zag towards the creature quickly. The Black Fury goes high as the Silver Fang aims low. The Fury's claws dive for the creature's eye as she leaps high, hoping to strike true and hard, while the other goes for about the mid waist, using her claws to try and find purchase and knock it over with her weight.
The thrown rock is merely absorbed into the creatures body, disappearing inside of its mass. The attacking Garou certainly seem to be irritating the creature, as it comes to a stop and rises up. Supporting its weight on two massive pillars of sand. Pierces Ice's claws sink into the soft sand and out again, any damage she causes is just covered up by fresh sand. The same happens to all the others that are attacking the beast. Their natural weapons tear out hunks of sand, only to have the creature heal as swiftly as it is harmed. Teeth grind and the great eyes closes, before more pillars of sand shoot out of its body. These are smaller then the earlier attack, only two by two feet, but they still have enough power to knock Pierces-Ice, White-Bear, Untangler, Bites-The-Belly-Of-The Spider, and Guards-Flam and good five meters distant. Other then being a bit winded, with sand in their eyes, ears, and mouths, they are unharmed. As Lures-The-Beast attacks, her momentum allows her to be absorbed to the waste. She hangs inside the creature's middle, before being 'spit' out. Thrown head over heels, like some Garou cannon-ball. As all this is happening, the mouth extends, swallows Endures-Pain whole. The Silver Fang becomes a second Garou Cannon-ball, as he gets spit out the back end.
After hitting the ground and getting back up, Guards-The-Flame snarls loudly and glances over to Pierces Ice and Sifhuil, looking for help with this one. ~We can't hurt this thing physically. I'm out of ideas.~ Three-Blades backs up more as the beast easily defends itself against the attacking Garou. The Gnawer's lips pull back in an uncomfortable 'grin' with teeth bared. ~Does not look like we can stop it, but...~ Rifthealer can only nod in agreement. The two packmates seem to give ground in sync, one looking ready to run in and heal if necessary, and the other staring hard at the enigma of the Wyld spirit. The ragabash eventually backs up far enough that she stands right before the small cairn of shattered crystals, and waits.
~Dig at it! Dig the sand away!~ Blotches suggests, while charging forth from the rear, hands cupping like shovels. She sets to work on one of the creature's legs. Howls-For-Glory quickly moves to dodge the flying Silver Fang. He looks over his shoulder at the other Garou and remarks, ~That was successful,~ then moves in to dig at one leg of the creature, next to Blotches. Blood's-Bane shifts down to Glabro. Calling on his Rage for speed, he runs out of the area and straight to the waterfall. He pulls off his leather jacket and does his best to make some kind of water carrying vessel, getting as much water as possible before coming back. Once he makes it, he throws his jacket at the beast, hoping to hit with the water-bomb. Flood-of-Flame growls low in his throat as he watches the guardians scattered, along with his tribal Elder, and the Silver Fang jettisoned out of the creature's rear. Noticing Dillen as he runs to get the water, he grumbles, ~Make water. Good idea.~ He drops to all fours, steps up to the creature's leg as if it were a urinal, lifts a leg and lets fly.
Pierces Ice rolls with the blow and scrapes to a halt on all fours. She turns back to the attack once more. This time, as she reaches for the creature, it is not to cause biting or crushing damage, but instead to tear as much sand free from the mass as she can. Returning alongside her, White Bear continues to use his spear, stabbing deeply into the mass, while Horace takes his cue from his alpha and uses his claws to pull sand free. Holly, once she returns to her feet, puts her arms out straight before her and a look of concentration comes over her face as a sharp breeze starts to form around her.Blinking out sand, Reggie regains vision in time to see others fall to sandblasting, and he howls a promise of vengeance, spitting out more sand. Moving over to the caern's waterfall, he scoops up a crinos hands' worth of water to dash at the moving sandpile.
By the waterfall, Finds-The-Path frets by the water's edge, personally disagreeing with the whole strategy, but realising there's not much to do but join in. Hopeful he's doing the right thing, he lowers his head to the water and slurps up the largest Crinos mouthful he can, bounding towards the thing, and firing a stream into it's chest.
After rolling back to her feet, Endures-Pain growls in mixed anger and embarrassment, then starts at the back of the creatures legs, trying to use her claws to scoop away the sand furiously with a determined speed. Lures-The-Beast once more comes from the front, howling her rage, barreling forward in an attempt to join in with the others, shoveling away at the joint in where its knee would be.
Sifhuil has disconnected.
Well, if nothing else, the materialized spirit seems rightly pissed off now. The water attacks do seem to be affecting it. As Auggie pees on its leg, a patch of yellow sand becomes, well, more yellow and sloughs off, while the water bomb causes a bit more in the way of apparent damage. The physical attacks seem to be working as well; even as White-Bear's Spear gets sucked right out of his hand. Rising up onto its hind legs, the Spirit uses those massive arms to swat at the attacking Garou like flies. The thing is amazingly fast, as it once again bats away its attackers. As before, they are sent flying, further this time. Still, as in the previous attack, they are not seriously hurt. Holly is the last one to go, as she gets nailed with another one of those sand pillars and is smashed into the ground. Ow, broken ribs. Seems that Call of the Breeze was working very well and earned Holly special attention. The creature appears, at most, to be half a foot shorter now and maybe a little slimmer. Still, any sense of victory is short lived, as the spirit starts to shake. Sand clouds out around its body, as it turns back time. Removing the water(and urine) from the sand that was soaked and returning the dry sand to its body.
"Get it into the water!" Dillen cries out as he heads for the waterfall again, dousing himself under the water, letting his clothes get good and soaked before running back to the beast. Blotches follows the others' lead, and gets to her feet, to run for the waterfall, while others keep the thing from reaching the caern's Center. Howls-For-Glory goes tumbling, pushing himself up while he shakes his head. ~Knock it into the pool,~ the Galliard cries. He follows the actions of his companions, and dives into the water and making his way back. Flood-of-Flame roars in frustration as the creature uses it's powers to somehow turn back the time. He also runs toward the pool, rumbling out, ~How can we knock it in? Our attacks do not drive it back! Can we get water into the eye?~ Still, he douses himself like the others, soaking his fur and getting a mouthful, before running back toward the creature.
Shifting back down to the Glabro form, Alicia slips her jacket out of dedication and makes her way to the waterfall. Seeing how this was working, she tries to gather up as much as she can and then rush back over, hoping to get the creature in the eye if possible. Rifthealer jerks away from Three-Blade's side and goes for the waterfall, shifting to glabro once she gets there so she can make use of her own leather trench coat. It's filled with water, and right beside Alicia, aims for the same location. Yi also gets the idea, and hurries her way down to the pool of the waterfall as well. Shifting to Glabro, she strips off her enlarged jacket and creates a similar water'bomb'. In tribute, the Gnawer ragabash smirks as something comes to mind before she throws and she shouts out, "SQUIRTLE!"
Angered by once again being thrown, enraged by seeing the spirit's swift recovery, Pierces the Ice once more returns to the fray. White Bear seems right and pissed about the loss of his beloved weapon, even as he gets knocked far and back again. Shifting down to Hispo, he storms after to bat at it with his paw, invoking the old Ahroun domino gift. Horace turns instead to his fallen packmate, and as Holly pulls herself to her feet, the Ragabash puts himself in a position to protect her. Bites the Belly of the Spider, meanwhile, once again reaches inward for the gift from her Tribe. Shaken at watching the sandpile's recover, Reggie makes a short sprint for its feet, sliding to his amble belly before it, and becomes a Uktena speedbump.
The pair of Theurges, Fang and Fury, follow along with the other's brillance of getting themselves soaked, landing in the water and making sure they are utterly drenched. After which, they blur back forward in a speed of rage, diving for one of its legs, hoping to give it the 'hug' of its life.
More water, ugg! All in all, this as been an extremely patient Wyld spirit, but it now looses its temper. Endures-Pain and Lures-The-Beat, are absorbed into the creatures form, as soon as they come into contact with it. Only this time, they are not spit back out. Just as White Bear attempts to take a swat at the monster, it slams a heavy hand down. The poor Glass Walker never makes it too his target and when the hand is lifted, he is no-where to be seen. Pierces-Ice's arm gets stuck up to the elbow, before she is slurped into the heart of the beast. Howls-For-Glory meets a similar fate to Pierces-Ice, only he gets spit out again as a year old toddler. Huge chunks of sand fall away and the Spirit takes several steps forward, covering a surprising amount of ground and stepping on Reggie in the process. Crushing most of the Uktena's ribs. An arm lifts and aims for Holly, but engulfs Untangler instead. No-one re-appears, or is absorbed, as the creature falls forward, covering the shattered Quartz in the center of the Caern. It becomes a giant pile of unmoving yellow sand.
Staring, Guards-The-Flame watches the world become full of leaves. She takes a few steps confused, spinning in a circle, growling, feeling her ears ring. ~Is everyone still alive?!~ She calls out, growling loudly as her body shimmers with its silver armor.
Bloods-Bane stops in his tracks, blinks, and then vaults into the sand pit, digging furiously to try and get the others out. not caring about the beast. His hands fly quickly as he does. "Fuck it. Just dig." He growls out.
Cole looks around, swimming in a pile of clothing that are many sizes to big for the child. Surrounded by a monsters of both fur and sand, he does what any sensible toddler would do. He screams, loud and lustily.
Yi looks without doubt like she's going to freak, but manages to hold it down. At least with the heat of battle she could blame the adrenaline and Rage, but this... this is a bit much. She starts to back peddle away from the scene. "I... We better go get the Warder and the Alpha..." she says to Dakota.
A slightly broken Rags struggles to raise his head, using his elbows as leverage, but fails, as he spasms in pain from breathing not being compatible with his ribs. He shivers as the process of Garou healing shifts his ribs back into their proper places, and is immobile, listening to the screams filling the caern.
Blotches lunges for the once-monster, and pile of sand to help dig her sept-mates out, ears flattening back at the child's wailing.
Dakota flips down into the lupus form and does the fasted damned backtracking she can to get /away/ from the creature, not that everything hasn't gone to hell. They need to get help. She whines and looks between her packmates, eyes gone wide and her fur puffed out in alarm. Let us go get the Alpha.
Flood-of-Flame howls out in frustration and rage at the disappearance of so many. Not seeing any other use for his claws at the moment, he also sets upon the pile of sand, digging furiously in the hopes to unearth someone.
By the waterfall, Finds-The-Path ignores the falling leaves, when they let him see, and rushes forth to assist with the shifting of sand. Checking nobody is behind him, he tunnels in, letting his lupine instincts take over, sending sand flying back between his hind legs.
Lumbering through the grass, Guards-The-Flame makes her way over to Reggie, kneeling down next to him. One heavy paw is placed upon his chest, starting the healing process as she concentrates.
Holly is shocked, she stands there for a short moment with her eyes wide open, uncomprehending, like the sight of the consumption of three-quarters of her pack is still flashing before her eyes. Suddenly she starts, like everything's clear again, reality has set in, and she too rushes off to the sandpile as fast as her legs can drag her, to try and dig out her pack, her face a contorted mess, played over with rage, guilt, fear, and already sorrow.
Cole still squalls, for lack of anything more productive to do. And boy, does the Galliard's heritage show through in the size and capacity of his lungs.
Yi backs up into a tree, and looks down at Dakota, her expression just one that conveys one having seen something so utterly horrible to render one speechless. Cole's wailing doesn't help either. "Let's... let's go get them." Swallowing hard, she turns to look back towards the sandpile. "Alicia," she calls out hoarsely, "Dakota and I will get Megan and Seeker..."
What was an inert pile of sand literally explodes with a deafening bang. The entire body of the creature is scattered the length and width of the caern and everything is thrown into total chaos. Autumn leaves fill the air obscuring vision and making it impossible to see more then two feet. The steam vets go berserk, as massive amounts of steam make their way to the surface. Somewhere, over the screaming steam of the vents, a giant tree can be heard crashing to the ground. Those close to the sand pile get blasted nicely, taking a fair amount of damage and loosing some skin. Those on top of the pile, loose more then that. First their eyelids are blasted out of existence, followed by their eyes and most of their skin. Only their Garou abilities to heal save them from dying.
Guards-Flame grunts loudly as she feels the armor protect her, but not enough to stop the blast from taking off some fur. Good thing she can't feel the pain at least. She glances down to Reggie, then whips her head around once more, moving over to scoop up the child that is Cole, curling his small infant body close to her chest.
Blotches howls in pain as the sandblasting scours most of her skin off and sends her reeling back. Instinct has her shifting down to Glabro as she falls to the ground in serious agony.
As the sand blows, Dillen falls back onto the pile itself, screaming out. His hands go to his eyes to try and stop more sand from entering them now that he can no longer close his eye lids.
The sensation of a facial scouring, like steel wool against skin, is a new one to Bites the Spider, and she responds with a piercing howl of pain before shutting her mouth as tight as she can get it, when the sand tries to force its way down her throat. It's just as her lips begin to peel away that it stops, and she finds herself blind and palsied, struggling to get her paws beneath her.
Ashley wakes up and slowly pushes her way to her feet, glancing around slowly with a blink of her eyes. She looks older, by almost ten years or so. She stares, just.. stares... blinkingly, not saying a single word.
By the waterfall, Finds-The-Path yelps in pain as the explosion scours away most of his face, simultaneously sending the beast hurtling back, mouth gaping with pain and the grit of sand in soft places.
Rifthealer looks like she wants nothing more to run and not stop, and then everything explodes. She's far enough back to avoid the full force of the damaging blast, not that she could feel it right now anyway thanks to her gift. Whining, she jerks her head to Yi. Go! She howls. I must stay to heal! It looks like it's taking every effort she has not to flee, her limbs shaking with the effort.
Flood-of-Flame lets out a weird, gurgling shreik as his fur, then his skin, then his eyes and all other sensitive parts are sand-blasted from his body. Then, the shreik falls short and the Ahroun is quiet - his tongue and now vocal chords are also gone. All muscle and bone, he just lies there - his mouth open in a silent scream, oozing blood.
Well, when Ali goes to pick up the infant Cole, there's quite a surprise. In somewhat tattered and ill-fitting clothing, a very much changed Cole is looking confusedly up at the elder of the Children. "Alicia?" His voice! Well, it's deeper, now, and his features have lost the remaining babyfat he may have kept. The Galliard who sits there looks to be almost twenty years old, now.
When things finally start to settle down, the Caern looks a fair bit different from before. Where once there were tree-stumps and saplings, massive oaks, firs, and hardwoods now stand. Aged only Gaia knows how years in a matter of seconds. There are far fewer trees then before, but the ones that remain are healthy. Between the new trees, there are those that have fallen. Some seem to have done so recently, while others are well imbued with rot and moss. Some may notice that all the trees are not new and that the largest ones are those that were chopped down by the Dancers a few years ago. Having miraculously re-sprung form their stumps. Not that all the trees that were chopped down have returned to their former glory, as most remain as stumps. The quartz stone at the center of the Caern is whole once more, while the spray-painted Dancer glyphs and markings have re-appeared near the rock slab. Those that were 'eaten, have re-appeared. If looking a little different from before, but all are healthy and alive. Even Cole is back, only he looks older then before. Some look a little older, while others a little younger. Pierces-Ice doesn't seem to have changed much at all.
~Rifthealer, I need you here!~ Shouts Guards-The-Flame over the roar of confusion among the Garou, curling the screaming child tighter in her arms. With that, she moves on to the next, Holly, who is standing by, reaching out to touch her face. ~Stay calm Wendigo.. I got you.~ When suddenly the child that is Cole 'grows up' in her arms, she simply /stares/ at him. Holding him up like a rag doll, she says. ~ You are older... ~
Yi doesn't even need Rifthealer to say - she's off like a shot, panicked into a shift to her fastest form of lupus and off into the woods. No one's going to stop her for sure - not now that she's fox frenzied.
White Bear bursts out, looking terribly frantic. The white Ahroun whines and turns about frantically, the wolf form terribly panicked splays his ears back. While he's not much taller than before, he's filled out considerably: definitely not the juvenile he started out at the beginning. The wolf looks like a fully grown adult.
Jacinta pushes herself up to hands and knees, eventually into an upright kneeling posture. She blinks, raising her hands to brush sand from her eyes, and finds long hair in the way. She pulls it to the side. As her eyes clear, she starts looking for the rest of her pack. "Horace? White Bear! Bites!"
Rifthealer pumps herself back up into Crinos form and moves straight for Flood-of-Flames, kneeling down beside him, her face tight with restraint. Her paw-like hand is set against him and invoked her healing gifts, inwardly praying for all she is worth.
Cole meets Guards-The-Flame's eyes. "I.." He goes quiet, obviously having to work at assimilating all this information. He's got a bushy red beard and long hair that remains surprisingly well kempt.
Julie whimpers quietly in pain and fright, then gets to her hands and knees and feels her way along, to find a place to curl up and rest.
Horace is still for a long time, playing possum, as his mind tries to put all the pieces of the last five minutes back together. When he finally blinks his eyes open and looks around, it's too a slightly larger world than he'd left, as the boy's lost more than a few inches. He peels himself from the ground, looking around blearily, everything about him changed. His face is rounder, pudgier, and lower than it had been, it's like a raphaelite cherub with the eyes forced down with hooks where his pronounced epicanthal folds hang. He's no taller than 5'2"; the boy doesn't look like he could be that much older than thirteen. He looks around himself uncertainly, like everything's gone strange, until he hears Jacinta's voice, which jerks his head around to her. "Hi," he says slowly, not sure of anything.
Reggie is out cold as the explosion deposits its fallout, but he's soon to stir about again, and he shakes his head quickly, winces, then slowly, as he tries to figure out if he's in the same caern as before, or if he's awake.
~You look cute.~ Guards-The-Flame says, putting him down, then starts to heal at Holly's face, shifting back down into the Glabro form, placing her hands against her cheeks.
Ashley has disconnected.
Dillen stays on the ground, trying not to move. He moves his hands from his eyes and he stutters. "Can't see." He covers his eyes again. "Oh shit..." As he lays back again.
By the waterfall, Finds-The-Path lays where he landed, curled up in the best foetal-position his Crinos form can manage. He hears nothing but the ringing in his shredded ears, his world a burning darkness... Most of his skull is exposed, with thousands of sand particles firmly embedded into it.
Cole stands unsteadily on his legs, running his hands over his face. "No. No. No." He continues that mantra for a long moment, before he hears Dillen's words. "Dillen?" He blanches when he sees the extent of the injury. "Oh fuck. Dillen! Stay homid!" Cole shifts into crinos, and scoops to pick up the Get. ~I will take you to a safe place. Hold your hands over your eyes.~
Alicia snaps slightly. "Cole, make sure he stays in a form he can heal in!" She says, concentrating on the Wendigo for a few moments, before making her way over to Dillen. "Dakota, get Karl after this." She says with a grunt. "Once he's fine, have him get to someone else that needs it, maybe Reggie again. Everyone, stay PUT an be calm, alright? We got healers making rounds."
Flood-of-Flame would moan as Dakota heals him, but his skeletal muzzle just opens and shuts. Slowly, as the healing light eminates from the Theurge's hands, the Ahroun stops bleeding and oozing so much as the healing helps his skin along in growing back. The blind Ahroun suddenly thrashes his head around, and grumbles crudely. ~Rrraaa?~ Seems his vocal chords haven't totally healed.
~Getting there!~ Rifthealer huffs in frustration and with a sigh pushes Flood-of-Flame to the ground. ~Stay still! You will be fine, try to relax, I will be back.~ And as much as she'd rather not leave him, she does, and goes over to Pathfinder to repeat the process of healing.
Dillen lets out a grunt as Cole picks him up. "Fuck. Not changing." He spits out some sand. "Never going to a beach." He says.
Reggie senses his name being used by a familiar voice. Reassured that he's among familiar people, if not surroundings, Reggie tries out his voice, is choked by sand, starts a bout of coughing, combined with grimaces about his still-healing ribs. Speechlessly, he shoves out his hands impatiently, attempting to mime that healers should go move off to someone more in need.
White Bear looks panicked around, his ears pinned back as he jerks around and sees each of the horribly wounded. Bites! he barks, running off to the Theurge from his pack. His expression doesn't change, dancing between paws as he struggles to think what he can do to help his packmate.
Howls-For-Glory sets Dillen down. ~Yes, Guards-Rhya.~ He shakes his head. ~She is right. Change, and heal. The Theurges will find you. I will stay here.~ He takes his position near to his Get friend, close enough to be sensed, for those that can't see.
Jacinta turns toward Horace's voice, still looking for the rest of her pack. When she spots Alicia healing the Theurge, she is quick to rise to her feet, and even as Josh rushes to Holly's side, Jacinta moves in a circuit, first grabbing the younger Ragabash.
Flood-of-Flame whines softly as Dakota pushes him down, and goes... well, she goes away. He's blind, can't speak, and hears chaos all around him. It's no fun.
White Bear calms down considerably, ears still pinned back. Creeping forward to the elder, he comes along side Jacinta and looks up at the pair. Horace, of the two, dominates his attention.
Kneeling next to Dillen now, Alicia uses the last of her healing abilities upon him, pressing her hands into him. She lets out a tired breath, feeling her head start to buzz as one gift wears off.
Howls-For-Glory looks back and forth, clearing his throat. ~We need to get everyone to the farmhouse infirmary. Who's able to carry, and who needs to be carried?~ The Galliard stands up, doing his best not to panic and to forget the massive changes that have taken place. To do this, he distracts himself by taking charge.
Horace allows himself to be grabbed, barely even seeming to notice. He staggers along behind her, his sense of balance slightly off, but he seems reassured to see, at least, that his Alpha is alive. The boy scans his eyes quickly around, another wave of relief passing over him as he sees White Bear, though in his frantic scan he fails to recognize any difference. "Where's Holly?" he asks, plaintively, until he sees her, at which he rips himself out of Jacinta's arm, as well as he's able at least, to go to her.
Reggie manages to get himself to his feet, and shuffles about on his feet tentatively to gawk at all the changes in the caern, and gawk directly into the damaged faces of the Garou at ground zero, then gawk at the glyphs that've reappeared, and look about for any more surprises.
By the waterfall, Despite the best healing efforts, Pathfinder is looking better, but still has a lot of sensitive structures that need time to heal, namely those of sight and smell. His hearing will also return in due course, but for now at least, he couldn't find his way around if his life depended on it.
Rifthealer whines softly in her throat as she looks down at Karl, but again, she can't stay and stands up to see who else needs healing. Julie is spotted and she heads over to her, to repeat the gift again, the theurge looking progressivly more and more exhausted.
Jacinta looks on the unconscious form of her former cub. She gives a sharp nod to no one in particular and looks again at the boy Horace has become. Her back stiffens, chin lifting as she takes a moment to assess the caern. Then, another sharp nod and she turns her focus to her pack. "White Bear, take Holly to heal at the Bluff. Take the boy, too, and see that he is ... protected. Watch him, until we know what all of this means." That said, she looks around the caern again and calls out to the others. "I need 3 who are well enough to guard this night. Who will follow me?"
White Bear shifts from paw to paw nervously before finally seizing on the task. He announces he will do that, before turning to. Hurrying the short way, he shifts up into Crinos: the previously obtrusive mane is totally in the way, and he has to brush it out of the way before he can gather up the Theurge.
Dillen reaches and pats Alicia. "Thanks." he says quietly. His head shakes some. "Someone get me somewhere?"
"I got your back Jacinta." Alicia says as she rises upwards after healing Dillen. "No problem. I still got some work to do around here. Dakota, stay with me tonight. Someone needs to go get Megan and bring her out here."
Julie thrashes an arm out as she is touched, but calms when familiar sense of healing starts to flow through her. A groan, and she is at least able to get to a sitting position, the bleeding stopped, the scream of raw nerves subsiding. "Thank you" is managed, somehow, to whoever the healing soul is.
Howls-For-Glory looks up. ~Pierces-Ice-Rhya. I will guard tonight, if you will have me. I will bring whoever needs it to the infirmary, first. Bloods-Bane, are you ready?~
Dillen nods his head a little. "Yeah."
Horace tries to follow along with Jacinta's instructions, but he's unable to properly put them together, and he struggles visibly. "What do you want me to do?" he asks her, not finding his name in the list of addressees. It's only later, after a moment of looking at his Alpha uncomprehendingly, that he realizes he is the `boy` she spoke of. He looks worriedly around, settling his eyes on White Bear for the first time fully seeing him in his new skin, mature and adult. He shrinks from him, like his packmate's been replaced, and then again looks around nervously, waiting for someone to explain it all to him, to tell him it all makes sense and will be alright.
Flood-of-Flame just growls softly. Though he can't speak, he can hear what the others are up to, and he indicates, as best he can through lupine body language, that he doesn't want to be moved. Staying put! The stubborn Ahroun would flatten his ears and puff out his fur, if he had such luxuries at the moment.
Rifthealer stands back up and settles down into her homid form with a loud, tired exhale of breath. Nodding to Alicia, she heads over to Flood-of-Flames side and kneels back down beside him, placing a hand on his big crinos shoulder. "Holding in there, Aug?"
Reggie attempts to speak up to Jacinta's call, starts coughing, and smothers his cough as he stands, movements slow and tentative, and manages a raised crinos hand and a firm nod.
By the waterfall, Finds-The-Path shrinks down to Lupus and rolls onto his stomach, wherever the hell he is, he figures he'll stay.
Jacinta nods appreciation to Cole and Alicia, moving to examine the changes to the caern. When Horace speaks she turns to him, a calming smile aimed his way, though the perceptive may notice it is forced. "Untangler, go with White Bear and look after Holly. We will understand more, later." Reggie's attempted acceptance of her request gets a quirk of an eyebrow followed by a shake of the head. "No. Heal tonight. Help tomorrow."
White Bear gestures eastward, holding Holly in his broad arms. ~Come with me.~ He repeats, before starting to plod off to the Bluff at a slow and steady pace.
Jacinta gestures to Finds-The-Path and Auggie, including them in her admonition to Reggie.
Howls-For-Glory picks up Dillen as delicately as possible in his corded arms. ~I'm taking you to the sick-place, in the big building. You will be safe there, and can heal. We will guard the Caern and work this all out.~ He keeps up a steady stream of chatter in the mother tongue as he trundles off, to occupy his friend's mind.
Horace nods slowly, the movement strangely flaccid in his new body. He doesn't move at first though, he just looks at his hands, and by the frustrated, confused look on his face, like his own body isn't his anymore, it's clear he understands something. Finally he begins to move after White Bear, not looking at him, keeping his eyes fixed on the ground.
Flood-of-Flame nearly snaps at the hand Dakota places on him - being blind, he had no warning that the contact was coming. But when he hears her voice, he just whines at Dakota. It's a strange noise, tinny and gurgly, not much like what one would expect from a Crinos throat. He just concentrates on keeping his breathing slow, trying to calm himself in the wake of all this pain and chaos.

Time of our lives, pt. 1

Fri, 25 Jul 2008 04:45:27 GMT

Among the Steam Vents
The ground here is hard and rocky and barren, unlike the greener swath visible through the steam to the north. Small, narrow cracks network the area, steam trickling out of many of them, probably at least partly fed from the stream flowing underground from the east. The warm circulating steam fills the air around here, warming those nearby, leaving a thin sheen of dampness on almost everything around, and making the rocky ground that much more slippery. Sometimes, a blast of hot steam bursts up from some of the cracks, making the temperature uncomfortably hot an releasing a strong odor of minerals with sulpher undertone.
The old growth forest surrounding the caern has been hewn down out to 150', leaving only stumps as tombstones for the mighty trees that once sheltered the caern. The ground has a light covering of grasses and weeds and wildflowers and occasional sapling trees, but nothing larger than that.
Through the mists, you can see the caern circling towards the walls of the crevice, north towards the rocky slab; east, you can hear the waterfall; the caern's center lies to the northeast. The valley continues towards the southwest.

Currently the moon is in the waxing Gibbous Moon phase (60% full).
Currently in Saint Claire, it is a cloudy day. The temperature is 53 degrees Fahrenheit (11 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from the southwest at 8 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 29.84 and rising, and the relative humidity is 63 percent. The dewpoint is 41 degrees Fahrenheit (5 degrees Celsius.)

Doing her rounds through the Caern, Alicia is picking up what appears to be a straw wrapper on the ground, scowling to herself. "Ooh.. if I find out who dropped that.." She murmurs under her breath. Her hair is tied back in a red hankerchief, wearing a pair of baggy jeans and a College sweater. She appears to be covered in dirt, and there is a rake laying near by.
At the center, White Bear is there. He's there every night. Always at the same place, almost always by this time. The Crinos has his back to the fir that has so often been pressed into service as his seat, spear planted like it always is: Not too farm from him, butt first in the ground.
There is a feeling of power in the Caern tonight, similar to the sensation of when the Caern's spirit is summoned during a Sept moot. Tendrils of this power make their way out of the Caern's heart and into the Bawn. Any creature with an attachment to the spirit world can feel the disturbance. In the Caern itself, the air all but vibrates with the suppressed energy; as if something is coming. Good or bad, it's impossible to tell.
Julie has no real reason to be here, other than probably just wandering. Her excursion cross country made her return to her roots, in a sense, going to lupus in wooded areas for speed and hunting. Now, though, she's in human form, wearing what she always does, hands shoved in her pockets. Scuffing along the rocks, working her way down, and in the center. A frown, hand leaves a pocket to rub at the back of her neck. "This ain't feelin' right," she mutters, probably to herself.
At the center, After a long walk through the bawn from the brownstone, Dillen finds his way to the Caern. He shrugs a little when he sees White Bear and walks over to him. "Hey White Bear." He looks around like someone tapped him on the shoulder. "Is it just me or..." He looks around more. "What the heck is that?"
Dakota bends down to pick up the rake, twirling it around briefly in her hand like a color guard member with a flag. Seems the Theurge is assistant the groundskeeper tonight. She opens her mouth halfway to say something to Alicia and then stops, narrowing her eyes and slowly looking around and then towards the center of the caern itself.
At the center, Reggie, hit by the impulse to check in on the caern today, follows up on his impulse. He pauses before clambering down the trail, giving himself time to gather the breath to navigate the way down. Sensing the mysterious presense of White Bear, he veers over to him, treading through the shattered rock particles littering the ground.
Cole arrives in homid, buried deep in a hooded sweatshirt. For those who saw his injuries earlier, they seem to be...just gone. He seems to be almost walking in a daze, obviously called by the sense of power about the place. He looks briefly surprised to see so many people there. He lets out a low whistle.
Dark eyes glance upwards slowly as Alicia feels the shiver run up the back of her spine. She glares slightly and glances off towards the Bawn, shifting her shoulders backwards to pop a few anxious joints, then shifts her gaze to Dakota. "You feel that? Something is coming, powerful." She murmurs.
Dakota narrows her eyes but keeps ahold of the rake, pointy end up. "...yeah... but what?" She murmurs and moves closer to Alicia.
Auggie's form appears on the wooded crest above the Caern. He peers down curiously, at first drawn by the strange energy he could feel even from the edge of the Bawn, and now his curiousity piqued by the large number of Garou around. He picks his way down the trail, and makes his way over to Dakota and Alicia. "What's... going on?" he asks his tribemates, cautiously.
The ground rumbles and some of the cracks by the steam vents widen, as the steam that normally spews forth slowly dissipates .
Cole moves over to Alicia and Dakota, when he spots them. "Is this supposed to happen, or something," he asks, a moment after Auggie's question. At the sound of the rumbling, the Fianna spins to face the steam vents. "I'm guessing no," he answers his own question.
Julie draws up to a halt, frown deepening into a scowl, and she shoves braids out of her face, and looks about. She sees others, and their reactions, so at least she knows she isn't the only one sensing something odd about the place.
East of the caern's centre two small wolves trudge slowly up to the Windy Spot, talking amongst each other and eyeing the throng of Garou, Pierces Ice curiously, Untangler with something close to suspicion. The strange sensation is noted and the Ragabash stops, nervous, looking around and sniffing as if to decipher the source of the strangeness by smell. The Ahroun goes a few paces forwards, calling out to White Bear, letting their packmate know of the two Wendigo's presence.
At the center, White Bear blinks stupidly, almost not hearing his name as his head cants at all the sudden arrivals, like moths to what ever the power is. Standing up, he jerks his weapon out of the ground to hold it at the ready, sniffing at the air. After more than a moments hesitation, he tilts his head back and howls his packmates and the Warder, just about when the other two pack mates arrive.
"Dunno.. it doesn't stink... /yet/." The Groundskeeper murmurs as she continues to study the air, sniffing lightly. She takes in another deep breath, then slowly lets it out as she hears Auggie's voice. "Aug', hit up the center... don't know if we'll need anyone protecting the heart or not. Dakota, stick close to me, whatever is happening, /I/ may need a healer."
The sleek, lupine form of the Fianna Philodox -blinks- into existence near the waterfall, ears thrust forward, fur bristling along her back and around her neck...but in a manner suggesting an electric excitement or curiosity, rather than fear or anger. She's obviously sensed something out of the ordinary in her umbra-side patrol, and seems to have passed over to see if the same stange feeling resonates through the caern, here, as well. Her nose works at the air, but she seems certain whatever is coming won't be sensed in this sort of fashion. Eyes snap toward the steam vents when the earth splits.
In the windiest area, Jacinta heads into the center.
At the center, Dillen looks over to the vents and then to White Bear. He raises a brow and looks around at all the others. "What's going on?" He asks to anyone that will listen. His eyes scan the whole area, trying to find something out.
"You stitch my back, I'll stitch yours." Dakota murmurs as she stands shoulder to shoulder with Alicia, still weilding her rake. May come in handy.
"No idear," Julie pipes up as she heads for the heart of the Caern, eyeing the others, suspicion growing as she glances toward the vents.
There is an extended moment of silence from the vents, before sand explodes out of the cracks and shoots up to a height of over twenty feet. There is a rasping grating sound, as the yellow and white sand emerges from the cracks in the ground. Those too close to the vents get coated in the fine particles, which gets into absolutely /everything./
Alicia braces herself as she clamps her mouth shut, fingers curling into tight fists as she shoots herself up into the Glabro form. Coughing, she grates back. "Someone call for help!" With that, she blurs into the Crinos form rapidly, digging her claws into the ground, taking a few safe steps backwards.
At the center, Dillen lets out a "Holy Shit!" As the vents blow. He covers his eyes for a moment and then looks back to the vents and those standing near them. "You okay?" As he takes a few more steps towards Alicia. He also shifts into glabro.
At the center, Reggie begins to hollar a hello at White Bear, only to have his hollar drowned out by the latter's howl, and he whisks his stare about, looking to see who's present, only to stop, transfixed by sand shooting and blowing about.
Cole steps back as the others make their way to the center, moving so that the sand misses him for the most part. He shifts up into Crinos, a growl escaping his lips, though no enemy has shown itself. ~What is this?!~
At the center, "What the fuck?!" the Gnawer Galliard exclaims as she throws her hands up and steps back, at the eruption. Surprise has Julie automatically shifting up into Crinos, to defend the Caern.
Dakota jerks back with a startled yelp and shifts into the warform, abandoning the rake to bring up one furry arm to protect her nose and mouth.
At the center, Auggie obeys his Elder wordlessly, setting his jaw tight as he makes his way toward the center of the Caern. Nodding to the other Garou present, he doesn't get far before the explosion happens. Practically jumping out of his skin at the sound, he whirls around to see the spire of sand shoot up into the air. His body shoots up into Crinos, as he is dusted with the sand particles.
At the center, Untangler draws back further at the sudden movement, though he's far enough off not to be anywhere near the sand that falls like a geyser. Confusion displays firmly on his face, but after a brief freeze in which he doesn't think or do anything, he looks up at Pierces Ice, not looking for answers, looking for instructions. He moves off as he waits for those instructions, automatically, trying to flank, well, whatever.
The sand is beginning to form a rather large pile as it settles, the mound is starting to move of its own accord. It shifts, trickles, and surges, as it takes on what could be considered a solid yellow form. Massive elephant-like legs hold the fourteen-foot body up and off the ground, while ape-like arms rest their knuckles on the ground. The creature has no apparent head, but a huge eye in the middle of the chest and made out of white sand, blinks, then looks over those gathered. A mouth comes into being just bellow the eye and opens wide, revealing serrated shark-like, white teeth.
At the center, "I've got a bad feeling about this." Dillen says with a low voice, looking up at the mass of sand. "What the heck is that?"
Jana pages: Wow. What's going on?
At the center, White Bear barks wordlessly in warning at the explosion, head jerking to the side and closing an eye as a snap of a reaction. The weapon is clenched in either hand-paw as he watches the monstrosity grow out of the ground.
At the center, Blotches growls low, and takes a step closer, eyeing the monstrosity. ~How fight sand??~
Glimmering in a silver halo like a protective shield, Guards-The-Flame stumbles back a few paces, shooing the other Garou back a bit, her body tensed, ready. ~It doesn't smell like the Wyrm, but what the hell is that?~ She calls back to everyone.
At the center, Sifhuil, looking wholly unamused by the vents' unusual activity, blurs into her war-shape in a heartbeat. ~You weren't invited,~ snarls the Fostern Fianna at the cohesive, towering lump of sand. She backs defensively away, preparing herself for combat while her eyes sweep over the thing in search of a vulnerable spot.
At the center, Reggie blinks away some adrift sand particles from his eyes, the better to stare at the apparition. Rather than ask others what it is, he tries the direct approach with a hollared, "What are you?"
Howls-For-Glory growls, slinking back as Guards-The-Flame directs. ~Earth spirit,~ he asks, uncertainly. He flexes his claws nervously.
Rifthealer snarls lowly and eyes the.. whatever the hell it is. She stares at it closely and arches her back like a nervous cat, sticking close to Guards-Flame.
At the center, Flood-of-Flame's hackles stand straight up, and he growls low and deep in his throat. ~Not Wyrm?~ he rumbles, ears flat back, stalking around the thing, making sure to stay well out of reach of those arms, and teeth. ~Why is it here?~
At the center, Bites hurries to catch up with Untangler and Jacinta, not more than a few minutes behind the other Wendigo. Seeing the strange creature in the heart of the caern brings her to an abrupt stop, ears pinning back.
At the center, Dillen shifts up into war-form as well. His head cocks to one side and he looks around the beast, finding angles to fight it if the need arises. His fists clench as he walks around to the side of the beast, still checking to see what or why it is here.
After looking over those gathered in the Caern, the creature turns and begins to lumber toward one of the clear-cut areas. The old growth forest that the Black Spiral Dancer's cut down when they invaded a few years ago. It completely ignores those gathered, as it passes over the now quiet steam vents.
At the center, Pierces Ice doesn't stop to inquire as to what the creature is, or what its purpose is here. She bares her jagged teeth at it in warning, before moving quickly towards the Caern's centre, eyeing the beast suspiciously, like a strange animal that's invaded her territory. She orders her pack with her, to defend the centre, joining the Gaian Ahroun there. Untangler follows automatically after her, barely even needing the order.
~Theurges, some feedback, /please./~ Rumbles the Fostern Child of Gaia as she slowly stalks after it, starting to get frustrated. She shifts her gaze to Rifthealer and,Howls-For-Glory.
The sensation of power that everyone was feeling before is most defiantly coming from this creature. The air nearly hums with suppressed energy.
At the center, Blotches is trying to sift through old tales in her scatter-brain head for anything similar, while sidestepping to keep the creature close and in sight.
Rifthealer flattens her ears and looks a bit bewildered as the creature seems to give them all a shrugging off. *Who are you?* Barks out the Theurge in the spirit's tongue.
At the center, Bloods-Bane follows the beast, curious as to where it is going and also watching to see for any danger the beast may cause. "Whatever it is... I ain't leaving it alone."
At the center, The sleek silvery figure of Endures makes her way into the caern, perhaps attracted by the commotion or some other thing. Regardless, spying the situation, she trots toward the very center of the space. She inspects the thing from behind, following along to hear the response to Rifthealer.
At the center, Reggie, sighting some Wendigo, paces towards them, offering brisk greetings towards Jacinta and Horace, and directs a pointed query towards Bites. "Can you talk to spirits?"
Howls-For-Glory makes sure he's not in the thing's way, primarily. ~Talkative,~ the Galliard rumbles, dryly. He meets Guards-The-Flame's gaze, and takes a stride toward the pair of Garou. ~It hasn't attacked yet. Can we risk it?~
At the center, White Bear follows after, the coat on his back sticking strait up. The Guardian follows in tandem the side, pushing past people as necessary. ~Sister-Alpha?~ He inquires in a low rumble.
~No, it will probably kill us with ease. Let Rifthealer try and make contact with it. So far its not being aggressive.~ Guards-The-Flame growls towards the newly minted Fianna Cliath, continuing after it as it moves, carefully watching how it reacts to the Theurge's words.
At the center, Bloods-Bane listens to the other's words. He pauses for a moment and looks about for something.
At the center, Flood-of-Flame stalks after the strange creature as well, his coat as puffed as it will get, walking lupine-style on all fours just in case he needs an extra pair of legs for a burst of speed. His aggressive posture toward the sand-monster would be comical, considering his inexperience and the creature's size advantage, except for the seriousness of the situation.
The critter, whatever it is, completely ignores the Garou. Its as if they are not even worth its time. Having finally reached the stumps that surround the Rock slab, the Sand-Monster rears up onto its hide legs. Attaining a height of just under twenty feet.
At the center, Sifhuil moves as the creature does, stalking through the caern as it seems to move with some intent toward the clearing. She keeps her distance, continuing to study it as closely as she can without knowing what it is or where it's come from--and why it's here. She will wait for it to take the offensive, and go from there.
At the center, Bloods-Bane curses quietly and then resumes his following of the beast.
At the center, Blotches snarls as it ignores any and all, coat bristling. She starts for it, fingers flexing. ~Speak, you!~, she howls, as she approaches.
~Don't try and piss it off Blotches.~ Guards-The-Flame rumbles loudly as she continues to stalk after it, keeping a fair distance, her eyes focused upon those dagger like teeth. ~Rifthealer, you getting anything from it at all?~
At the center, Endures abruptly shifts up to crinos, her eyes narrowing as the creature ignores Rifthealer. Stalking along like the others, she watches it intently, a touch puzzled. Finally, ~I must admit, I've not seen a spirit like this.~ The Silver Fang theurge admits this with a certain reluctance as she moves closer. The Bone Gnawer gets a contemptutous look. ~Wrong language.~
Rifthealer follows after the beast at what she can only guess as a safe distance, eyes narrowed as she tries to think of what this thing is. ~Nothing.~ She replies, but tries again, louder this time. *Why are you here?*
At the center, White Bear rears backward, pointing the weapon up as if it was about to come down on him any second. His ears splay back, the Crinos Guardian moving out of the way. His ear jerk nervously, still waiting for the the alpha of the Guardians to give an order of some sort.
Howls-For-Glory shadows the Child of Gaia Galliard, listening for any revelations from Rifthealer. Unsurprisingly, he's taught with tension, waiting for this creature to prove its intent.
At the center, Pierces Ice growls out lowly at White Bear for him to hold his hand, to follow her lead in trying putting the Ridgeline pack between the monster and the cluster of stones at the centre. That is what matters. She knows it is hard but let the others deal with it. Save your Rage. She twists her head towards Holly, searching for the Theurge's opinion on the creature, on what it means to do.
At the center, ~It not answering /anything/.~ Glare Endure's way with that look. Blotches knows others are trying to speak to it, and frustration is clear. A stop, though, a good 15, 20 yards away, growling and shaking with anticipation.
At the center, Two more Theurges join the commotion in the Caern: the Crinos form of the Black Fury, Artemis and the Gaian, Finds-The-Path in Hispo. There's a lot of confusion, and not much fighting. For the time being at least, the pair stay back.
At the center, Bites turns to Reggies, her ears still pinned back. I can, she answers, but seems reluctant to move forward.
At the center, Sifhuil states clearly what should be obvious for now. ~It is not interested in communication. Just watch. Be prepared to attack.~ Her eyes find Howls-for-Glory amongst the Garou, then cut back to the visitor.
~Warriors of the Hidden Walk.. if this thing starts to get aggressive, we can't let it get past us to the Guardian's.~ Commands Guards-The-Flame as she rumbles aloud in her throat. ~Its not of the Wyrm, and it doesn't seem to acknowledge our prescence, but that doesn't mean we won't get our asses handed to us.~ She sniffs the air some more, shifting her gaze about. ~Keep eyes and ears open, in case something -else- comes out.~
At the center, Endures-Pain snaps at Blotches, less than impressed. She returns her attention to Rifthealer, however, waiting to hear the results of the second attempt. She moves forward as close as she can get without actually going up to the outcropping itself.
At the center, Flood-of-Flame stops when the creature of sand does, his ears flat back, his eyes full of confusion and anger. He steals a few glances at what the other Garou are doing around him. At Guard's-Flame's command, he decides to just hold his ground, at the edge of the scrub the creature is standing in.
At the center, Bloods-Bane stands, looking at the creature. He growls slightly,. jaw twitching and hands moving in and out of fists. He is just out of reach, waiting for someone to give a command to charge, lining up to thrust his claws right into that eye.
At the center, Finds-The-Path tries to make sense of the scene, and after his Elder's words, needs no more encouragement to cautiously approach the steam vents from which it surely came, sniffing.
By the steam vents, Trudging along next to the other Gaian Theurge, Lures-The-Beast, holding a large bow in her paws circles slowly, eyeballing the sand creature. She flicks her ears forward some as she reaches to her shoulder, drawing out a long arrow, notching it, but holding herself until further command.
At the center, The huge form of Reggie shadows over the shorter lupuses of the Guardians, as he scknowledges Bites' answer with a jaw-set nod, wary eyes fixed on the sand creature. "Ask it what it wants", he encourages Holly, regardless of the failure of the other Theurges.
At the center, Three-Blades hurries towards the caern at the call for help, slowing to a stop once she's seen others, and particularly the sand beast. The Gnawer ragabash blinks in surprise, ears forward as she wonders why no one has moved to attack such a monster yet.
The sand-being's body twists, as it swings those massive arms in a half-arc. Sand sprays from its fists and wherever it lands, things start to change. A sapling grows into a fifty-year old oak, only to rot and fall over on its own accord. Trees re-appear on empty stumps and grass grows at an alarming rate. Not that much of this can bee seen very well; its as is a leaf-bomb just went off, as pounds of autumn leaves go flying off the trees that are growing. Engulfing the entire area in a cloud of yellow and red.
Howls-For-Glory watches the trees react to the touch. ~Sands of time,~ the young Fianna asks, incredulously. ~Don't let it touch you!~
Rifthealer snorts loudly in frustration. She must not be getting any answers. She takes a few steps closer and stops again, narrowing her eyes with her ears tipped forward towards the sand creature. At the explosion of sand, she whirls and makes to put more distance between her and the beast. ~Is it of the Wyld?!~
~My Gaia..~ Guards-The-Flame rumbles loudly in shock as she stares openly, taking a few steps back quickly, flattening her ears back against her skull. ~I have no clue what to do here, Theurge's, suggestions?! Where the FUCK is Fights-For-Hope?!~
At the center, Bloods-Bane growls. "How the hell do we fight something we can't touch?" He is itching for a battle now, pacing back and forth from one foot to the other.
By the steam vents, ~Arrow?~ The Black Fury asks as she steps foward, pulling back on the bow, tightening the string, eagle eyes narrowing as she rumbles loudly.
At the center, Blotches throws her arms up to protect her eyes and nose from flying debris, crouching down. ~Someone make it rain, and wash it away?~ is suggested through the turmoil.
At the center, Flood-of-Flame blinks at the shower of leaves. At Howls' warning, he backs up a few paces, wanting to get clear of the sand spray, but not wanting to give up too much of his ground. ~Fight sand with... water?~ the Gaian Ahroun thinks aloud, ears flat back as he does his best to think on his feet. Hearing Blotches suggest something along the same lines, he looks over his shoulder and nods at her.
At the center, White Bear hears the Alpha of the Guardian's commands, pretty much ignoring Alicia entirely. As he back-pedals, the Ahroun raising one arm to shield his eyes. None the less, he works his way back to where he was ordered.
At the center, Three-Blades watches the phenomenon of the rapid growth and decay of the trees. Her ears flatten and she proceeds to join Blotches, swinging towards the others to get closer, but not too close.
At the center, Endures-Pain jerks back at the reaction by the creature, keeping out of reach of the sand and the rest. ~Seems of the Wyld, yes, Rifthealer. Water--wears away sand. Seems like a good idea.~ She looks about, growling a bit. ~No one here can do that, yes? Create water?~
At the center, Finds-The-Path has his attention drawn firmly away from the gaping cracks from which the being came, and bellows his advice, hoping it isn't lost in the chaos, ~Don't fight it! Is it healing the damage? Maybe it will leave when it's done?~ Good old pacifist Child of Gaia.
At the center, Blotches isn't as stupid, or crude, as some might think. Unfortunately, creating water is not on her list of can-dos, so she edges back, still in the crouch, and rumbles at Three as she draws up near. ~Weird.~
The two arms thunk heavily into the ground, as the creature re-settles on all fours. As the leaves settle, it starts to move on to the next area of decimated forest.
~Remember this day Howls-For-Glory, it'll make one hell of a story.~ Guards-The-Flame calls over to the younger Galliard as she follows after once more, furrowing her brows, flexing out her claws.
~If it attacks, what about driving it to the waterfall.~ Rifthealer barks out to be heard over the din of voices. ~At least if it's mud it can't spread like sand can.~
At the center, Reggie breaks off hectoring Bites to wield off an attack of...leaves? Flailing wildly at the attacking cloud of loose leaves, spitting out a kamikaze one, he glares about for the source.
At the center, Flood-of-Flame suggests, ~Carry water in skins, and throw it onto the monster?~ That's the best he can come up with. At Pathfinder's suggestion, and as the creature moves on, he makes a low growl, considering. ~Maybe Finds-the-Path is right. Maybe we should leave it be.~
At the center, Three-Blades snorts lightly. Whatever it is, why does no one summon one of their pack's spirits to talk with this thing?
Howls-For-Glory snorts. ~As if I could forget, Guards-The-Flame-Rhya.~ He follows along with the group as the creature moves. ~Is it hurting anything? If not, we should just watch it.~
At the center, ~I think they tried.~ A growl is cast toward the others, before Blotches grumbles in frustration.
At the center, The three Wendigo move around the cluster of stones at the Caern's centre as the creature moves, always keeping themselves between it, though their manners differ wildly. Pierces Ice oozes irritation and worry from between her clenched teeth, her paws work at the ground, it's obvious she wants nothing more than to leap forward and do something, anything. Untangler's concerns take a more passive form, his legs seem locked in place, his ears are flat enough against his head a level could be rested on them. Holly's concern is mixed with an intense curiosity, and she just watches the thing in awe, barely even registering Reggie's previous.
Now that the leaves have settled in the one area where the spirit cast its sand, there are now mature trees where there were none before. Plenty of stumps and downed trees remain. There are far fewer saplings, many of which seem to have disappeared all together. All in all, there are fewer trees then before, but the ones remaining are older and appear to be healthy.
At the center, Sifhuil seems surprised by her tribesmate's observation, and eyes the creature with frustration and confusion. Its purpose here seems totally lost on her, but she realizes full-well what might happen if it comes into contact with any of the Garou, and that's enough to set her into motion. She attempts to draw on Chimera's gift to pinpoint anything that might shed some light on how to deter the thing.
At the center, Blotches picks up one of the leaves that had floated to the ground in front of her, and sniffs at it. Eyes narrow as they study what effects the creature seems to be having.
At the center, Endures-Pain moves forward to inspect the area that was just vacated. At least, as much as she dares while still staying out of the beast's sandspray range. ~The forest here, where it has left, looks better. Some trees fixed, many others not.~ She sounds intrigued, the curiousity and fascination that theurges have with spirits outweighing her hostility at the moment.
At the center, Three-Blades looks up at the larger Gnawer, nose working as she scents the area. An ear splays.
At the center, Bloods-Bane ventures over to touch one of the new trees, testing it for solidness. "Is it trying to rebuild the forest?" He says to the others, "Repair what was done?" He steps closer.
At the center, ~Only the strongest survive?~ Blotches points a clawed finger in the direction of suddenly older trees. She holds out the leaf for Three to sniff.
Glancing over her shoulder to the others, Guards-The-Flame looks pointedly at Pathfinder. ~Umbra, take another Theurge and a warrior with you.~
Some of the leaves appear to be freshly shed, while others are well decayed. Otherwise, they appear to be perfectly normal.
Howls-For-Glory looks back to the forest left behind as Endures-Pain makes her announcement. This doesn't make him any less tense, though. ~It seems to be helping us. But what if it doesn't like the changes that WE'VE made? It might try to undo those. And us.~
At the center, Flood-of-Flame blinks, as the leaves clear to reveal the creature's work. ~It is making old-growth. Better forest.~ The young Ahroun seems pleasantly surprised, approving. He looks back at the other Garou, paticularly his tribemates, his hackles going down slowly, tail wagging cautiously.
At the center, Endures-Pain lifts her head at Guards-the-Flame's words. ~I will go.~ The Silver Fang gathers herself up to her full height, curiousity warring with arrogance as she stands there.
At the center, White Bear's head stays hunched, remaining rather rooted in place where Jacinta told him to be. He splays his ears, wincing as he shakes his head at all the chatter from all the others. Curling back his lip back, he looks rather irate at it all in addition to the tension of the situation.
Guards-Flame nods her head to the Silver Fang, then rumbles towards Flood-Of-Flames. ~Go with them, they will need strong claws in case the otherside is bad.~
As before, the creature rears up onto its hide legs and spays another area with sand. As before, leaves fill the air.
At the center, Finds-The-Path grunt/snorts his understanding of the instruction, and bulks up into the warform, assembling with the gathering party in preparation for the side-step.
At the center, Endures-Pain moves forward toward the others, watching the new growth with interest.
At the center, Three-Blades licks the front of her nose as she hears Guards-Flame's delegation, backing up so she puts a good tree between her and any sand that would come her way. Either way, she growls with Blotches, if someone sees this thing it will be bad bad bad.
At the center, Flood-of-Flame dips his head once to Guards-Flame, and starts toward Endures-Pain and Finds-the-Path.
Rifthealer flicks her eyes between Guards-the-Flame and Three-Blades, whining something quizzical in her throat. Then, with a more determined posture as she steps behind Guards-Flame, the theurge begins a low rumble in her throat that carries up into a lilting howl. It sounds vaguely like a summon.
At the center, Blotches chews on a thought for a moment, then looks over at her friend. Silence, though, she discards the idea, and turns her attention back to the creature. Then she does speak. ~If it stays in caern, no one will see, but us.~
At the center, Sifhuil examines the sand-beast's apparent improvements from a distance, but snorts in frustration. She creeps back toward the Waterfall, preparing to move into the Shadow. If battle is necessary, she'll be stronger there.
At the center, Reggie battles the leaves by batting them out of the air, and glares with angry suspicion at growing piles of leaves as though suspecting a leaf-monster to be coming next.
At the center, Finds-The-Path, Flood-of-Flame and Endures-Pain glance to each other briefly, looks of understanding and comradery, before the Gaian Theurge leads the troop to the water's edge to make the transition to the other side.
At the center, Three-Blades tail lashes with her discomfort at the situation in general, ears tilted back even as Rifthealer howls. But this will be bad anyway - things like this are not supposed to be on this side.
At the center, Bloods-Bane watches the others shimmer into nothing and then looks back to the beast. "So do we just wait for them?" As he steps a little closer to th beast, taking a look at it.
Howls-For-Glory growls. ~A sandbox reject is messing with the Caern, and all we can do is watch.~ Apparently, Luna's light is getting the better of the young Galliard.
At the center, Three-Blades looks back at Blotches with a twitch of alarm. If that is what happened, then we /have/ to worry.
Rifthealer gets a look of dismay and growls, jerking her head to her two packmates. ~I am crossing. He may have the answer.~ She turns and runs for the water through which the others just passed to follow them.
Unperturbed by the Garou moving about the Caern, the spirit finishes with the area around the rock slab and starts toward the windy area. Here, mist and wind come together to create a fog. The monstrosity stops, stock still, staring into nothingness.
Guards-Flame blinks her eyes for a few moments, then glances around slowly to the others, feeling the fur on the back of her neck stand up.
At the center, Three-Blades gives herself a rough shake and considers, with a feigned lightheart, that perhaps we haven't been doing a good job of keeping up the caern, and that Gaia took it upon herself to make things get better faster.
Howls-For-Glory hunkers down as the thing apparently stares off into space. ~Let's hope they're having more luck in the Shadow,~ he rumbles, grimly.
Well, that didn't last very long, as the creature seems to come to some decision. After a slow turn, it begins to stop its way toward the center of the Caern.
At the center, Bloods-Bane finds himself following the beast, slowly walking to it's side, still just barely out of reach. He looks at it with some kind of wonderment and awe now. The fog, however, causes him a little uneasiness. He looks to where the beast seems to be looking.
At the center, Blotches rumbles in agreement. ~Hope not,~ is all she can say, until it begins to move inward, rather than outward. Now she straightens.
At the center, Bloods-Bane stops and watches again. "It's going back. Do you think it is going home?"
At the center, White Bear raises his weapon, holding it up as the thing starts heading for where he is. He frequently looks over to Jacinta, before on back to the thing headed his way.
Back peddling, Guards-The-Flame doesn't turn her back on it. She flexes out her claws and rumbles loudly in her throat towards the monster, eyes narrowing. ~You are not going into her heart.~ She rumbles, ears pinning back against her skull.
At the center, Reggie freezes mid motion of brushing off dead leaves, and adruptedly raises alerted eyes towards the still form of sand. His posture is wary.
At the center, Three-Blades twitches again with a startlement, looking briefly bewildered with something in mind.
Howls-For-Glory follows the Child Elder's example, raising himself tall. His eyes light up from within as he waits for the action to erupt.
Stomp-stomp. The creature makes very slow progress, as it takes its time. Where its feet and hands touch the ground, grass either grows or turns yellow, in preparation for a winter that isn't here quite yet.
Blotches glances aside, at Three, then rumbles in question. There's that look in her eyes, and Blotches recognizes it.
Three-Blades splays her ears back out to either side as she notices Blotches looking at her. Rifthealer, she chuffs back, says that it is an old old spirit. Very old and very strong like the caern's totem.
Bloods-Bane turns to the others and nods. "Really?" He wonders even more at the beast.
Blotches hrms? at that, and tentatively takes a step closer to the lumbering sand-form.
Untangler's fur bristles and he lifts one paw like he's going to bolt, forward or backwards or somewhere at least, but he puts it back firmly down, eyes hurrying between Pierces Ice and the towering creature of sand. He whines out his upset, glancing at the others.
Bites the Spider's curiosity seems to have been sated, as once the monster begins to advance it slips from her eyes and is replaced with stark worry. Her fur bristles and she gets low against the ground, sniffing out ahead of her, like a huntress stalking very unfamiliar prey, sizing it up to see if it's worth the risk. Pierces Ice-rhya, she finally offers her opinion on the matter, though her whine is tremulous and uncertain. I don't think it means any harm.
Howls-For-Glory looks wary. ~Does that mean it's friendly?~ The Galliard shadows the movements of the sand-thing, looking it over. ~My, what big teeth you have.~
Bloods-Bane steps closer as well. He comes closer to the beast, bowing his head a little for respect of spirits. "Thank you for the help." He says to the beast.
Once again, the creature rolls to a stop, actually seeming to notice the Garou for once. Namely, all the Garou between it and the very heart of the Caern. That huge mouth opens and closes a handful of times, sand teeth grinding together. It doesn't look particularly friendly. If anything, it seems a little irate.
~Rifthealer is saying that its difficult to defeat, but she doesn't know why its here. Our totem spirit is trying to speak to it.~ Guards-The-Flame rumbles as she stares back at the sand monster, glaring, claws flexing back and forth.
Bloods-Bane looks to the ones that block it. "Move out of the way." He waves a hand in the air.
Three-Blades stamps a paw against the ground, frustration rising a level as she looks to Guards-Flame and those blocking the way. A low chuff from the ragabash indicates that there is no reason it should be here... that she wonders why it has awakened and formed here.
Howls-For-Glory watches those teeth gnash, and backs slowly away from the thing, never taking his eyes off of it. ~It doesn't seem to like being blocked from the heart. It may want to take over,~ the Galliard muses to himself more than anyone else..
Pierces Ice finds a good outlet for her pent up rage at Bloods-Bane's order, and she snarls distractedly at the Get for attempting to order her out of the thing's path, vacate her position. She glares at the thing, bubbling up to Crinos as she does, teeth bared, but still trying to make sense of it all, to decide.
Blotches suggests, ~Point it toward the vents, where it came from?~ Her own arm lifts, to point straight in that direction.
"I think it just wants to go back to where it came from." Dillen says, following up his previous statement. "If it wanted the Caern, it would have taken it already when it was closer."
By the waterfall, The party - Flood-of-Flame, Endures-Pain, Rifthealer and Pathfinder - return from the Umbra, coming from relative peace back to the chaos.
By the waterfall, Rifthealer rears up to her full height, nostrils flaring as she sweeps her eyes towards the creature and roars out. ~It is of the Wyld, as powerful as Chimera with the ability to control time. It is not here to help us, it has no reason. It must be stopped!~
One arm moves forward, then another, as the Spirit starts up its lumbering pace once again. Right for the shattered crystal at the Caern's heart.
By the waterfall, Endures-Pain howls as soon as she returns, echoing what it is that Rifthealer has said. ~It has no rhyme, no reason!~
Guards-Flame flicks her ear towards Pathfinder, then back to the other Theurge's. She rumbles loudly, asking for Sifhuil's advice as the Half Moon, and Jacinta's as the Guardian.
By the steam vents, The Black Fury who still holds the arrow tightly in her grip, continues to take aim, staring right at the eye of the beast. She is tensed, ready, looking frustrated. ~Just give the word.~
By the waterfall, Flood-of-Flame rushes to join the throng of Garou attempting to bar the sand-creature from the center.
Three-Blades finally breaks from Blotches side at the call of the theurge. Bubbling up to hispo, the ragabash bares her teeth. ~Maybe it wants to eat the power of the caern?~ Her now huge paws take her closer towards the sand beast.
~Do what you must,~ shouts the Alpha of Manitou's Ridgeline, ~But keep it from the heart!~ That said, she takes a step forward, interposing herself more directly between the spirit and the former tablestone.
The spirit is a lot closer now, close to touch some of the Garou protecting the heart of the Caern.
By the waterfall, ~What are our options?~ Pathfinder asks, mostly of the Umbral-party, hoping to incite some brainstorming. ~Can we Bind it? What else can we do, aside from trying to kill it?~
White Bear cocks his arm with the spear behind his shoulder as ready to throw, lips curling back to expose even more teeth at Dillen's attempted order.
Bloods-Bane looks to Rifthealer. "Maybe it will heal the crystal like it did the trees?" But still, his fists flex and he moves closer. "Say the word and I will attack, however." He moves closer to the beast.
Sifhuil reappears realm-side to quickly rejoin the others, taking note of the way things have progressed. She, too, begins to move in defensively toward the caern's heart, looking displeased. The Fianna considers something, attention going first to Artemis. ~Do it now!~ She waits to see how the arrow will work, before committing to anything else.
By the waterfall, ~If it is so powerful, there is little we can do other than trying to kill it. Would you be capable of binding Chimera?~ Endures asks this of Pathfinder, taking a few steps toward other garou as she talks.
By the steam vents, ~I got the shot, and I am taking it.~ Lures-The-Beast says as she shifts the heavy bow in her hands. ~I can bind and summon.~ She remarks towards the other, before releasing the large arrow with a fluid grace and expertise born of her tribe.
Reggie shifts into the war form, as he stands his ground, physically barring the sand spirit's path.

Sat, 12 Jul 2008 06:42:29 GMT

Ouch! (Posted by request)

Mon, 10 Dec 2007 17:43:06 GMT

Suggested Listening: Next Contestant, Nickelback

Bawn: Northern Forest(#3012RA)
Dark and forboding woods stretch in all directions but the north, the trees close together as if they were soldiers closing ranks against the enemy of Man. The trees here are tall, and close off all light from above, like they were pillars in some vast cathedral to Nature. Songbirds flit between the branches and the snuffling of small animals comes from the brush if one listens close enough. The busy interstate highway to the north, though, drowns out most of the subtler sounds in that direction.
The northern edge of the bawn is marked here by the unavoidable length of Interstate 90. Near it, the sounds of traffic drown out the more natural sounds of water and wildlife. In all other directions, the traffic noise recedes into the background.

Currently the moon is in the waxing New Moon phase (2% full).
Currently in Saint Claire, it is a cloudy day. The temperature is 33 degrees Fahrenheit (0 degrees Celsius). The wind is calm today. The barometric pressure reading is 30.31 and falling, and the relative humidity is 92 percent. The dewpoint is 31 degrees Fahrenheit (0 degrees Celsius.)

It's a small moon and a good time for Garou to do battle, without frenzying. Steel-Claws makes her way to a pre-designated place in Crinos, shield on her arm and sword at her hip.
Kaz has, apparently, gotten wind of this, as she limps in a bit after Laora. Possibly she was following her.
Cole is already waiting, the axe his challenger made for him hefted on his shoulder. He's waiting in Crinos only a small amount of nervous movement betraying any anxiety.
Steel-Claws' nostrils flare as she comes to a stop in front of Cole. Without a single word, she starts unbuckling her shield and setting it aside. Her sword belt follows a short time later.
Cole acknowledges Steel-Claws' and Kaz's arrival with a heavy nod and a snort of breath in the chilly air. When his opponent starts to disarm, he speaks. ~Steel-Claws. It is good to see you once more. But I wish to speak to you before we fight. Do you still wish to have this battle?~ He inclines his head questioningly, waiting for the answer.
~Are you afraid of me?~ Steel-Claws asks, lips pulling back from her teeth. ~Yes, I do. My reasons for Challenging you remain the same.~
A bellow of a laugh comes from Dragon's-Fire then, barrel-chest heaving. ~Afraid? Of you? I pack with a Fenrir! I know what meaningless bluster is!~ His grey eyes narrow. ~I had hoped you would show better wisdom than this. At your age, you must be a Cliath for a reason. Spirals circle around us, and you would have a Challenge? I offer you a chance to quit the challenge, and no one will speak ill of it, or they will answer to me. Show the wisdom we Moon Dancers should have.~
Steel-Claws's hackles lift. ~If you did not want to do battle, you should have chosen different terms. Do not insult my Wisdom, just because you are having second thoughts about the Challenge terms /you/ set.~
Cole lets out a growl. ~I was hoping you would learn in your time here. Obviously you are more foolish than the cubs we teach.~ He draws himself up, arms open wide, and in that moment, looks every inch the purebred Fianna he is. ~Well, then, foolish child. Since you will not use your mind, use your muscles. No weapons. No giving in to frenzy, and no showing any fear. Are those the terms we agreed to, Mistress of the Challenge?~
Steel-Claws's lips pulls back in a silent snarl, ears laying back against her skull. ~At least I was not willing to ignore am insane Silver Fang, who talks to dishes.~ That said, the smith throws back her head and howls.
Steel-Claws howls long and loud.
From Bawn: Northern Forest, Steel-Claws can be heard to howl, ~~Laora Steel-Claws and Cole Dragon's-Breath do battle for Eldership of the Fianna. Come witness.~~
Kazz mutters, "She believes as she believes. Ain't an easy thing, for her or others. That's all."
~Should I have slain him because he is odd? They are our kings, moon-calf! If they become dangerous, we shall put them down. But I will not go to war with a tribe because you are angry they have a silver-plated knife. Now, then.~ Dragon's-Fire takes a step forward. ~Let us finish this.~
Melodie comes trundling up to watch the free entertainment, taking a seat on the ground safely out of the likely combat zone.
Steel-Claws snarls and snaps, foam forming around his muzzle, stepping away from her weapons. ~War? War? I merely had the guts to tell him the /truth/, then accept his Challenge when he called me a liar. I won. I broke his punny weapon. Now he clings to mine, as if it was his old one. You would be fool enough to follow an Insane King, in to the very jaws of death? You are the fool.~
Dragon's-Fire steps into the center of the area, obviously preparing for the clash to come. ~I have never seen this knife. I merely had to accept the word of a...~ And here, the word 'psychotic' is forced through vocal chords not meant to make them, ~Bitch who cares more about weapons than the marriages she destroys. Come now, fool, coward and worse. Before you embarass the tribe any more.~ The Galliard brandishes his claws and croons insultingly at his opposite.
~At least the kin has bred now!~ Steel-Claws bellows, as she launches herself at her opponent in a blur of motion.
Kaz blinks at something, and then leans forward in interest, now that the fight's started.
As Steel-Claws launches herself forward, Dragon's-Fire jumps backwards. Her first claw goes a bit short while her second and third strike true. Dragon's-Fire is left with an X of claw marks across his chest, blood welling up to cover a chest that suddenly... doesn't look like it's put together properly. He roars in agony and rage, directly into Laora's face. The sound is unnatural and piercing, causing the audience no small amount of discomfort as well.
Kazz scrabbles backwards a touch, unconsciously.
Steel-Claws's ears lay flat and she back up a touch, panting heavily, her eyes going wide. For a space of two seconds she goes rigid, but she does not flee or show fear. With a bellowed roar, she launches herself at the Fostern once again.
Melodie makes a little 'ooh' sound, grinning at the opening volley.
Dragon's-Fire moves, despite the horrid injuries across his body, as though he doesn't feel a single thing. He lunges to meet Steel's charge, a claw lashing out to intecept her movement. At the same time, he tries to keep his body clear of the attacks coming his way. And again his muzzle cracks open. The hideous cacaphony of the banshee's wail hits the air once more, right in his oppoenent's face.
Dragon's-Fire uses his rage to ignore the pain of his injuries and immediately faces yet another brutal assault. Steel-Claw's hand swings past the Fostern's already maimed chest, leaving a shallow surface wound. But she snaps her head forward into a follow up strike, jaws barely missing his throat and sinking into the muscle between neck and shoulder. Dragon's-Fire's claw ends up buried in the Cliath's stomach while his howl rends the air right next to his opponent's ear.
Melodie clasps her hands over her ears as the cry goes off, but does not feel compelled to flee. She grins like this is hugely entertaining.
A shudder wracks Dragon's-Fire's body as he forces himself to stay awake by sheer force of will. It's little enough, as far as such things go. With his opponents' muzzle lock onto him so close, he makes a swipe at the last target to present itself. His free arm moves to fly across Steel-Claws' face near her eyes.
Steel-Claws jaws loosen, but just enough to strike a second time, trying to get the Fostern's throat in her jaws.
Dragon's-Fire puts his hand on Steel-Claws's face and pulls down /hard/, raking his claws across her right eye, rending it in half and leaving a beautiful set of claw marks across her face. At the same time Steel-Claws sinks her jaws into Dragon's-Fire's throat and squeeze hard. The Fostern can feel his windpipe flexing, though the other Garou hasn't crushed it... yet.
That last show of defiance seems to have taken it out of Dragon's-Fire. His claw drops from Steel-Claws' face, dripping fluid. The teeth locked around his throat and the overwhelming weakness rush in, and he shuts his eyes. ~Yield. I...yield.~
There is a pause of a few seconds, then Steel-Claws jaws unlock, as she takes a step back and shakily lifts her head in a howl. ~I have defeated Dragon's-Fire,~ she howls. ~I am Steel-Claws and I claim Eldership of the Fianna!~
Dragon's-Fire slumps to the ground as he's released, already falling into his birthform. And my, he's bleeding quite a bit.
From afar, to the room, Ralock is now done with is part, the rest is for y'all.
Melodie lets out a little cheer. "Congratulations, Laora-rhya, of the Fianna!" She eyes Cole a little warily. "Is he gonna be okay?"
Kaz says, "Huh," as if fascinated, and then adds, "Good job, Loara." And then she's down and doing first aid on Cole. That coat's useful.
Steel-Claws staggers from one foot to another, then drops to one knee, panting heavily.
Melodie moves forward, to look over Kaz's shoulder, very curious as to how this part is done.
Kaz, once she's done making sure Cole won't die of bloodloss or anything, asks Laora, "You want some help there?"
Steel-Claws gives her head a shake, her destroyed eye dripping goo. ~I will heal.~ A pause. ~My thanks.~
Kazz nods once. "OK." She starts to rummage in her pocket, and then stops. "I'll be back in a sec," she mutters, and tromps into the woods. A few minutes later, she comes back.
Melodie inspects Kaz's handiwork curiously. "If I'm gonna join a healing pack, I guess I gotta learn this stuff, huh?" She grins up at Laora. "I'm glad that there's another woman Elder."
Blood and saliva dribble freely from the new elder's jaws, as she slowly stands. Clearly in a great deal of pain and stumbling a few times, she reclaims her weapons, then shifts down in to lupus.
Melodie looks up at Kaz. "I can carry him, if we wanna get him to the Farmhouse or something. I'm the Cliath, and you're the Fostern, so I should do the grunt work, si?"
"Hold up a bit, I just called Cutter." Kaz eyes the out cold Fianna. "Suppose we could just /start/ carrying him, but then Cutter wouldn't know where we were."
Melodie nods, and sits still, watching over the fallen Fianna until Cutter arrives..'.
Steel-Claws lays down on her belly and pants heavily, intestines getting a bit dirty.
Severs lopes through the forest, bursting into the clearing, and shifting up quickly enough that he stumbles. Cutter buttonholes Kaz immediately. "Which one of them first?" he asks breathlessly.
"Hi, Cutter. How's life?" Kaz points to Cole. "Laora's said she don't need it, so her and her intestines are gonna have a lie down, instead."
Cole, for the benefit of any new arrivals, has a chest that doesn't look together right any longer, a fair set of wounds at the throat and shoulder, and probably a very uncomfortable week ahead.
Steel-Claws' tongue lolls as she continues to pant, shifting around just enough to watch Cutter out of her remaining eye.
Melodie grins at Cutter. "Hey. We got a new Fianna Elder now. Really makes you want to never do one of these challenges, doesn't it?"
Cutter nods and whips a knife out from inside his jacket, thumbing the tip as he approaches. At Melodie's words he pauses. "This... was this a Dominance fight?"
Kaz nods. "Ayup. For Elder, of all things. So Loara's it."
Steel-Claws stands shakily, a loop of bowel and fat dangling from her middle and nearly touching the ground. ~Dragon's Breath chose the terms,~ she says rather weakly, barely managing the Mother's Tongue in this form.
Melodie makes an 'ew' face at Steel-Claws, but bites back any commentary.
Cutter shakes his head and mutters something under his breath as he kneels next to the fallen Garou. Drawing the knife across his palm, he holds his hand firmly against the broken ribs.
Kaz plunks to the ground.
Steel-Claws stands in place, legs shaking a bit. Actually, she wobbles more then stands. Taking several quick steps to her left to avoid falling over. Back to den, she says, then starts limping north.
Crick, crick. There's some repairs of the worst of the sounds Cole has suffered. Consciousness floods back in, along with a metric assload of pain. "Oh, fuck," comes the first words from the Galliard's mouth. When he's realized who's gathered, he simply gives a curt nod. "Cutter. Thank you." A shift has him in a stumbling lupus form a moment later. Steel-Claws is Elder. A respectful incline of his head, and then the Fostern wordlessly makes his way into the woods.

Mon, 09 Jul 2007 21:19:15 GMT

So, someone by the name of I Hate All Life on the Shadownessence forum posted this. I was a few paragraphs in before I realized what was going on. See if you can, and groan with me!

This is something kinda cool: parts of a transcript for an anime-style Werewolf: the Apocalypse movie! I managed to rescue this from some obscure part of WW's pre-nWoD Werewolf site, I can't remember the URL now. I tucked it away on some CD ROM and just now found it. Of course, the movie was never made. I don't think any animation cells were green-lighted for it. But the folks at WW actually wrote part of a movie up, which is sweet even if nothing was ever done with it.

I'm gonna copy-and-paste part of the transcript here, (what would've been) highlights from the movie. I don't know how much I can get away with pasting without getting in trouble with the WW staff, especially since it seems like this putting this script up online seemed to be a slip on someone's part. But I figured just a little can't hurt.

Before you judge this too harshly, people, remember it's only an anime. (Or would have been, had it been It's made for us fans, but it was also meant to have broad appeal. So if it seems campy and cliche sometimes (or even mostly), that's just part of the anime genre. I admit, a lot of the transcript looks pretty silly. The dialogue written for the Mokole and Rokea characters indicate they're all really dumb (or at least have a poor grasp of language). In any case, Mokole aren't super dino-warriors that follow werewolves around, fighting for them. Nuwisha do not speak in rhyme and use fetish slingshots.

The slated voice talent was mostly in-house, which I imagine was meant to save money, but they apparently planned to snag some well-known people for the anime as well.

King Albrecht (Silver Fang): Ethan Skemp
Evan-Heals-the-Past (Wendigo): Chris Campbell
Hide-of-Iron (Get of Fenris): Bill Bridges
Antonine Teardrop (Stargazer): Matt McFarland
Mari (Black Fury): Geneine Gerafalo
Cries Havoc (horned Child of Gaia): Dennis Leary
Wrecked-Car (Bone Gnawer): Weird Al Yankovic
Antihelios: James Earl Jones (wow!)
The First Ronin (BSD): Justin Achilli
The Perfect Metis (BSD): Leonard Nemoy
Zhyzhak (BSD): Gilbert Godfrey (I'd imagine in a grating feminine voice)

FROM SCENE ONE
At the Cental Park caern, King Albrecht and Hide-of-Iron discuss strategy while a spying Scrag watches from the Umbra.)

Hide-of-Iron: Every time I hear reports from our scouts, my Rage boils! When are we gonna start bustin' the Spirals' chops?!
King Albrecht: Hide-of-Iron, I need you to take your pack to the Unicorn Sept in California.
Hide-of-Iron: But, Albrecht--
King Albrecht: Listen, Hide-of-Iron. We don't have enough Garou to mount a full-scale assault on a hive. Now ready your pack for departure.
Hide-of-Iron: Your days are numbered now, you Spiral creeps!
King Albrecht: Now all we need is a lot of Gnosis... and a lot of luck.
The First Ronin: (whispering to himself while observing the conversation through the Scrag's senses) More than you imagine, King Albrecht...

Hide-of-Iron and his pack -- Growl, Hatchet and Bawn -- are later ambushed and killed by a pack led by the First Metis, who then leads several Spiral packs against the Unicorn Caern

FROM SCENE TWO
A pitched battle between Gaia's heroes and the forces of the Wyrm; five Mokole fight on the side of the Garou. Albrecht and the First Ronin face off.

King Albrecht: One shall stand... one shall fall.
The First Ronin: Why throw away your life so recklessly?
King Albrecht: That's a question you should ask yourself, Wyrmspawn.
The First Ronin: (As he leaps to the attack) No! I'll rip you apart with my teeth and claws!

The First Ronin and the Wyrm's minions are defeated, but at the cost of Albrecht's life, who died protecting Even-Heals-the-Past. Albrecht passes on the sacred Gaia's Heart fetish -- which all Garou kings must protect -- to Antonine Teardrop.

FROM SCENE THREE
The critically wounded First Ronin and his pack float in the deep Umbra after Zhyzhak usurps leadership of the Black Spiral Dancers. The great Red Star -- Antihelios -- speaks in a booming voice as the pack floats nears and begins orbiting him

Antihelios: The First Ronin...
The First Ronin: (waking from near-coma) Who... who goes there?
Antihelios: It is I, Antihelios, that summons you.
The First Ronin: No one summons me!
Antihelios: Then it pleases me to be the first.
The First Ronin: State your business...
Antihelios: You seem to be in a poor position to make demands. But very well. I intend to send you to destroy the Heart of Gaia. It is the one thing -- the ONLY thing -- that stands in the way of the Apocalypse.
The First Ronin: The Heart is already gone, destroyed with King Albrecht!
Antihelios: You are a fool. The Heart of Gaia still lives in the possesssion of the one known as Teardrop. I will restore you and your pack, and you will go forth and destroy them!
The First Ronin: I'll be commanded by nobody!
Antihelios: (Begins consuming the First Ronin and his pack) Very well. Proceed on your way... to oblivion...
The First Ronin: Nooooo! I accept your terms! I ACCEPT!!
Antihelios: Excellent.

Antihelios' red light envelops the First Ronin, then his pack, healing them and strengthening their bodies. The monstrous features and wounds of the First Ronin are smoothed away, and the powerful physique and visage of the Perfect Metis are revealed.

The Perfect Metis: I will crush Antonine Teardrop, and every other Gaian Garou, until the Gaia's Heart fetish is destroyed!

At this point, the Perfect Metis and his Red Star Pack return to their hive, kill Zhyzhak and retake the leadership of the Spiral tribe.

SCENE FOUR
There are several battles as the forces of the Wyrm pursue Gaia's werewolf packs. Antonine and Cries Havoc's pack recruit Wrecked-Car and several Bone Gnawer packs in a junkyard caern, and fight the Red Star Pack. The Perfect Metis nearly kills Antonine and takes the Gaia's Heart fetish. The Stargazer is healed through Wrecked-Car's Gifts (he's apparently a Theurge), then everyone performs a rite which involves awkward dancing. Elsewhere, Evan's and Margrave's pack, along with their bumbling Mokole allies, face a small army of Rokea in the Umbra. With the help of an annoying rhyming Nuwisha that just happens to be hanging out in that part of the Umbra, they finally manage to defeat Qyrl's minions, who had been manipulating the weresharks.

SCENE FIVE
The battle climaxes as Antihelios manifests in the Plain of the Apocalypse, and the Garou go there to stop him. The two hero packs are actually consumed by Antihelios, but manage to somehow survive and fight Spirals and weird spirits inside of the Red Star. Here is where Evan-Heals-the-Past and the Perfect Metis face off.

Evan-Heals-the-Past: Give me the Heart of Gaia!
The Perfect Metis: (holds up the Heart of Gaia, worn around his neck) The Heart of Gaia will do you no good! I tried using it to control Antihelios myself.
Evan-Heals-the-Past: It won't work in the hands of the Wyrm-tainted!
The Perfect Metis: (falls to the ground, in agony) Yes, master... I will obey... I'll kill the Wendigo... (leaps upon Evan and pushes him to the ground) I'll rip out your eyes!
Evan-Heals-the-Past: (lays his hands on the Heart of Gaia and takes it as the voice of King Albrecht echos, "Now". Evan gains the power and strength of an Elder Garou from the fetish) This is the end of the line, Wyrmspawn! (Evan grabs the Perfect Metis and throws him for distance)
The Perfect Metis: Nooooooooooo...!

Evan leads his pack and Antonine's out of Antihelios, who is consumed and destroyed by the unleashed energy of the Gaia's Heart fetish. The Wyrm's forces fall and Gaia is saved. Evan, the new King of the Garou, makes a speech about peace and Garou brotherhood in fromt of the assemble army of werewolves. The movie ends.

#25: Garou and robbers

Sun, 04 Jun 2006 03:24:21 GMT

Suggested Listening: Social Distortion's Sick Boy

Regan Avenue West, Downtown
For two or three blocks, between Thirteenth and Fifteenth Streets, red-brick apartment buildings alternate with the occasional small, struggling side garden or a small business. A pizza parlor decorates the corner of one intersection, and a relatively prosperous deli takes up space at another. Along one street, a fire station interrupts the other buildings, small but obviously in good condition from frequent need. Graffiti shows on sidewalks and on a few of the buildings, but is not prevalent. The road has been paved sometime within the last few years, to judge by the lack of potholes.

Currently in Saint Claire, it's a sunny day. The temperature is 76 degrees Fahrenheit (24 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from the north at 15 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 30.08 and falling, and the relative humidity is 49 percent. The dewpoint is 56 degrees Fahrenheit (13 degrees Celsius.)
Currently the moon is in the waxing Crescent Moon phase (35% full).
Another pleasant day in St. Claire. The sun is shining, it's a bit windy, cooling off the worst of the day's heat. The plate glass doors of the local McDonald's swing open to reveal Cole. He steps through, blinking at the transition in light levels from the restaurant. In his hand he clutches a paper sack containing today's oh so healthy lunch. Look, there's already grease stains showing!
Alexander is wandering the streets of St Claire, due to lack of anything else to do. His new house would be a lot more interesting if the other Fangs were there. Or if it actually was furnished in more than a few rooms. "Cole." He smiles as he sees the Fianna step out of the fast food joint.
Aiyana just happens to be in the area herself, although her nose wrinkles a bit as she spies the fast food joint. "And me without any cash," the Ahroun laments, shaking her head. Tucking her hands into her pockets she continues on her way, gaze low until she almost smacks into Cole. "Hey, you! Olga said it's cool, and whenever y'wanna drop by, just get one of us t'show you around. A'ight?" she greets, smiling, before nodding politely to Alex.
All those Garou'ly-ish people in one spot, and where is Joey? She's on the other side of the street, quietly spying on the familiar faces. Her motion is limited, in hopes that her stillness will keep them from spotting her - but that is all thrown into the air, when a smug teenage minority rushes past her. Her satchel is cut from her shoulder and the boy takes off running. "HEY! Thief! Stop him, thief!" she screams, turning to run after him.
What a coincidence, meeting everyone here today! Cole shoots a smile Alexander's way. "Hey, Alexa-," his greeting is cut off by two things nearly simultaneously. First, Aiyana almost knocks into him, and then he hears Joey's cries of thief! He only spends a moment looking at the victim before he recognizes her, and he turns to run in the same direction as the thief, just on the other side of the road. "GottarunalreadybeentherethanksAi!" His food gets dropped a few feet in front of his Gnawer Ahroun friend. Burgers from heaven!
Alexander seems about to say something, before Joey's cries cut him off. Recognizing the voice and the girl herself, the Kin takes off with Cole. Apparently though the Fianna is faster, which isn't really surprising, the Fang Kin lagging slightly behind as they chase the thief.
Hey, that screaming voice sounds really familiar. Spinning in place as the call of thief goes out, Aiyana zeros in on Joey's position. She takes a step, as if to head over towards the girl, but then lo and behold, free food! Grabbing the bag but not opening it the Ahroun sprints across the street to go make sure Joey's all right. "Hey, he hurt you?" she calls out, turning to watch Cole and Alex give chase. She'll let the boys play cop, for now.
Joey was about to give chase herself, but there were simply too many people that moved into her path. "He took my bag! Someone, please... stop him!" She slumps though, already figuring for the worst. The puppy chow, her tube sock of money, her make up, all gone... When Aiyana shows up she just startles and looks up at her, shrugging and glancing back down to the sidewalk.
The thief is in full tilt as he tries to escape. He gets few complaints as he runs, other than those who yell for being in their way - but no one seems to have the good Samaritan spirit today. He doesn't give up his movement though, and as he gets to the end of the street, makes way to cross over to the other side. -Clueless of course, that someone on that side of the street has him in line.
Cole can't help but grin as the thief crosses over the side of the street. His approach isn't the subtle one, exactly. When and if he gets close enough, he's just going to barrel into the thief, to try and take him onto the pavement. But that's not just yet. He pours on a burst of speed, beginning to breathe more heavily.
Alexander too manages a burst of speed, so things remain pretty much the same between him and Cole. It's clear the young man's aristocratic frame wasn't built for this sort of thing. But there's something faintly exhilarating about it, as opposed to sitting in drawing rooms sipping cups of tea and gossiping.
Aiyana crouches down to a more eye level, tilting her head at Joey. "Well, I'm more than sure Cole an' his buddy will get your stuff back. It'll be a'ight, okay? Don't look so down. Sides, if they can't catch 'em, he's gonna have me on his ass." She grins at that, a hint of a predatory look creeping into her expression. "So why not sit back an' watch the show, huh?"
Joey sighs, and looks up then, curiously. "Huh?" Her eyes focus down and around the street to look. "Wha? Whoa..."
The thief crosses the road and begins to slow down, expecting he has gotten away. It is not more than a split second after that, in which Cole plows into the kid and they both go skittering to the pavement. People gasp, point and scream, and most certainly - if it continues to develop, will be calling the police.
Cole lowers his shoulder at the last moment, aiming for the kid's chest. And then there's the impact. Unfortunately, while it was a good hit, it was a good enough one that it put Cole a bit off kilter as well. Skitter, skitter, roll. Grunting, he tries to sit up. In any case, he can't grab the loot right away.
This is where the fact that Alexander was a little behind Cole turns out to come in handy. Slowing down as Cole impacts, the Kin is in control enough to not get caught up in the scattered bodies and instead make a grab for Joey's bag.
Aiyana smirks a bit, even applauding softly at Cole's tackle. "Nice one," she comments, before turning back to Joey. "Y'see? All better now, and the only one who's really hurt is the punk that messed with ya in the first place. Now ain't that pretty cool?"
Joey raises her brows up, "Y-yah, I guess so." She looks onward anxiously at the event opposite her and the Ahroun. "Should we go over there or?" She pauses again and looks on.
The kid lets out a grunt of his own, rolling onto his back. His eyes roll once, but he shakes his head viciously, and tries to hurry back to his feet. For one moment, he looks as if he is about to pull something out of his pocket, but instead scrambles to just get away. - A worried, frazzled expression on his face. Alexander easily grabs the bag, heavy enough for that of a Gnawer.
Cole pushes himself to his feet, wincing at scraped palms. Ah, that'll be easy enough to take care of at a more private place. He looks after the kid, and looks as if he's just about to renew the game of hit and....well, hit. But he shakes his head. "Little punk," he mutters, turning.
"You think he's worth calling the police for?" Alexander asks, looking down at the thief with a sneer. The bag is held in his arms, the weight slightly unexpected.
Aiyana hmms for a moment. "We can, if y'want to. That way y'can get your bag, and thank the lovely men who risked their lives to rescue it for you." She grins, then starts to head over, still holding Cole's food in one hand. "Nice job, guys! Shoulda roughed 'em up a bit more, though. Think he'd look nice with a broken nose," she growls, loud enough for the running thief to hear.
The thief hurries off, running as if he'd just seen a bear in down town St. Claire. Joey walks up alongside the Ahroun, and with anxious eyes, looks to her bag. "Yeah thanks guys, I'd be lost without this thing." She reaches out to take it from the kin.
Cole smiles towards Aiyana, huffing a last hard breath before wiping his brow. "Thanks. Yeah, would'a been an improvement, but he looks as if he might have had a knife, or a gun, or something." This last is thrown in for the inevitable onlookers. Never know who's listening. He holds out his hand toward Aiyana. "Thanks for picking up my lunch. And you're welcome, Joey."
Alexander looks slightly shocked, as the adrenalin is now burnt off and he's thinking normally again. "No problem." He tells Joey, handing over the bag. Maybe staying at home, while boring, is safer in the City of St Claire.
Aiyana hands over Cole's food fairly easily, for a Gnawer. Gasp and shock. "Hey, no prob. Gotta eat, y'know?" Glad to see Joey in better spirits, she turns to smile at the cub. "Hey, so how've you been? Puppies are rampagin' about, y'know. Little heathens."
Joey looks into her bag, a little distracted at the moment. At the mention of puppies though, she perks up even more. "Look!" Her bag is opened and a small bag of Puppy Chow is produced. "And this too," as she brings out a long rubber pull toy. "Think Raul will mind?"
Cole gives a nod. "Yeah, especially now. Worked up an appetite with that run." The bottomless pit of the Fianna, everyone! "I hate to sack and run, but I have to get back to the farm. I've got..ah...chores to do. Catch ya all around?"
There's a noticeable shiver from Alexander when Cole mentions the farm. The Kin really doesn’t like that place. "I'll see you later, Cole." He manages a smile.
Aiyana waves to Cole, "Thanks again, man!" She turns and stares at Alex for a moment, having no clue who he is, but since Cole knew him she'll be nice. "Hey. I'm Aiyana." To Joey, she laughs and nods. "I think he'll thank you for gettin' such nice stuff for the kids. You're gonna spoil 'em rotten, though," she teases.
Joey grins a little bit, "They're puppies, that's what you do with them. Besides, better to spoil them now so they can get big and strong and do better on their own some day, right?" She looks between the two, "Oh, Aiy! This is Alexander, he's cool."
Cole tries not to grin at Alexander, remembering the effect it had on the Kin. "No prob, Ai. Anyone SHOULD have done it." He shoots a sweeping glance around the crowd of people milling and grunts. He smiles at Joey. "Have fun with the puppies." And with that, the cub is off, moving down the streets.

#24: Pornhouse rules

Sun, 04 Jun 2006 03:19:27 GMT

Suggested Listening: Rent OST's Rent!

Odeon - Lobby
The Odeon's lobby is testament to a faded and perverted glory. The deep crimson carpet is thick in places but in others stubbly as velveteen, and the rich pattern of tangling flowers is everywhere marred by dark stains. The walls are clothed in kingly purple tatters of wallpaper, and covered with faded posters featuring women and men in various states of undress, posing with various degrees of tastelessness, and screaming out titles like "Male Service", "Bang Bang: a Sexual Explosion", and "A Slip of Her Tongue" in garish lettering. There's no light in the room but what comes in from the street, and during the day the actresses look grey and ghoulish, and the bright reds and purples of the room faded and dusky; and at night, the place might as well be covered in thick black paint.
Immediately in front of the entrance is dull matte turnstile which no longer turns, where once tickets were taken. To the right are a pair of doors which some joker has labeled "Pimps" and "Hos" with red spray-paint: these are the washrooms. To the left are a pair of doorways which lack actual doors, and opposite is a grand set of boarded doors which lead into the theatre proper.

The Odeon's lobby is dark, its windows boarded up, its door shut tight. There's enough light to make the turnstile gleam dully, and the glass cases of the movie posters shine, but not a bit more. What little there is shines mostly from a doorless room to the left of the entrance, where it streams through unopposed, and from where also comes the sharp tak-tak-tak of sewing needles colliding in a repetitious beat.
Cole opens the door, peering into the darkened place as he steps in. The dimly seen movie posters are enough to make the young cub pause in bemused wonderment. So this is the Gnawer hangout, eh? He hears the sounds of the needles, although he doesn't recognize what they are. Seeing as that's the source of the light, he heads there, anyway. He's got several small boxes and one medium one in his arms. "Hello," he calls out.
"Yullo," Olga calls back from her perch on top of the massive wood desk in the office, her voice just as hollow as her needles. She's sitting cross-legged with her elbows on her knees, lazily working at turning a spool of wine-coloured yarn into a glove, and not doing a very good job of it. When Cole's visible at the doorway she glances up at him, her face blank and expectant.
Cole gives a half-hearted smile. "Hi, Olga-Rhya," he says, after an awkward moment of silence. "I don't know if you remember me from the farmhouse or not, but I kinda talked to Aiyana, and she said it was okay for me to show up around here."
Olga swallows Cole's greeting like it were extract of menthol, her face twists up uglily and then droops down a half inch. "Don' call me Olga-rhya," she requests, lifting her eyes up at him. "Jus' Olga. Olga. If you wanna get formal y' can call me Her High Imperialness the Gran' Duchess but not that fuckin' `Olga-rhya` crap, makes me sound like an intestinal disease or somethin'." It takes a half second of silence for Olga to get off her tangent, during which she looks at Cole as if trying to remember what she was going to say. "Yeah," she finally confirms, "I remember you. It's cool for y' to come by but you should stop at the door rather 'an wander in, jus' treat it like you would somebody's house, y'know? So anyway, whaddya want?" Her question is blunt and to the point, there's no malice or haughtiness in it, but neither is there much of an invitation.
Cole nods several times during that short tangent. "Yes, Olga. I'm sorry about that, but no one seemed to be around the door. I didn't mean to offend." He offers forward the boxes he's got in his arms, setting them on the table. The largest box is the kind that they put a dozen or more donuts in at the larger donut chains, and the smaller ones appear to be juice boxes and soda. "Well, I wanted to get out of the farmhouse for one. But I thought that if I was going to visit your home, I should bring something." His arms, once relieved of their burden, go behind his back. He takes the moment to look around.
Olga waves a dismissive hand at Cole's polite apology, a frown once more slipping across her features, though this time a slightly guilty one. It transforms into a cool look of appraisal for a few seconds as Cole sets the boxes down on the desk beside her, and she looks down at them, and takes a few quick snorting sniffs at them. A widening grin cracks her face in two and she looks up at Cole again. "Well, hell," she says, "fuck that. Welcome. Any time you wanna wander on in with food y' can consider this your grungy porn theatre away from home." Like a striking snake her hand abandons its task and darts out towards the doughnuts, opening the box, snatching one, and bringing it swiftly back to her mouth in two fluid movements.
Cole's expression changes from nervous to happy in a moment almost as fluid as Olga's movements. A grin answers hers. "I'll make sure to remember that, Olga, thank you." He gestures to the twelve-pack of soda. Generic cola, it appears. "Want something to go with that doughnut?"
Olga indulges herself as invited, her knitting abandoned to grab a coke with her now empty hand, snapping it open and beginning to gulp. "So," the Gnawer says, between mouthfuls and breaths, with many more of the former than the latter, "what d' y' want, really?" She obviously feels there's some favour expected in return for the food, and she just as obviously doesn't object, in fact the expression on her face is one of amused and interested curiosity.
Cole holds up a hand, reaching for one of the cokes. "Really, I don't want anything. I was raised to bring a gift when you visit someone the first time. Plus, the Litany says to respect your territory, and all that. This is just a way to break the boredom of staring at the attic walls." Well, it may be more than that, but he doesn't give that away. He pops the top to the soda he grabbed and takes his own sip, breaking eye contact with Olga.
Olga's happy suspicion lasts only a few seconds longer, and she gives it up with a surprised lift of her shoulders and eyebrows. "Well, congrats, Bri," she say, lifting her cola at him in salutary congratulations, "y'were raised right, then. So you're free, eh? A'right then. I'm surprised you'd come 'round here, though, 'nd bringin' gifts, no less." She lifts her eyes and waits a second to see if they can connect, but there's as much nervousness in them as challenge. She's quiet half second as if in consideration of something, and then she says, "So's 'at mean you understand? 'Bout Todd? Why 't was done?"
Cole's smile, which appears again at the congratulations and compliments. He meets Olga's gaze when she seeks it. This makes it easy to see the shadow of hurt that flickers over it. He swallows something, which could be either cola or emotion. "I..I hadn't even thought of it that way." He rolls the can in his palms, eyes dropping again. "Todd...didn't have his shit together, that's for sure. He was a friend, and I...don't like that he could get killed for being a fuck-up. But I guess I understand." He sets the can down and rubs the back of his neck. "It would be worse if it looked like you didn't care when you came over that night." He bristles for a moment. "I hope you kicked the shit out of that as-" He cuts off, mid-expletive, for some reason.
"No," Olga answers, glumly, like she's resenting the fact. "I clawed his lung out, though. I don' remember much of it, actually, when I woke up all I know's he was upstairs in the infirmary and my arm was bunged up all to hell. Tha's how it goes, y'know, you don' often remember what y' did when the blood all rushes to your head like that, when the Rage comes on." Her tone gets a little rougher and lower as she speaks; but then it levels up to agree, "He is a serious asshole, though, yeah."
Cole raises his gaze to meet Olga's. "I'm glad at least one person agrees with me. Megan-Rhya didn't take it so hot. Said I should respect the higher in station. Boy, that was not a fun class of combat training, if you get my drift? Wonder if the jerkoff even got punished. Probably not, seeing as how all he did was piss off a cub and a Gn-" He cuts himself off again. "Sorry."
Olga finishes her doughnut and sticks one stubby finger after another into her mouth so as not to lose a millilitre of sugar. She doesn't object to Cole's comment by word or expression: "Jus' telling it like it is, dearie," she says, placatingly. Her now free and almost clean hand ducks into an inside pocket of the coat resting next to her to dig out a package of cigarettes, which she extends towards Cole in mute offering. "I honestly don' know how that boy made Cliath," she says, tangentially, as she draws it back afterwards.
Cole shakes his head to decline the offer. "Wish he hadn't," he comments, brow furrowed and eyes dark. He takes a thoughtful sip of soda. "I didn't get a chance to say it, really, that night, but I'm sorry you had to do something like that." He glances out the doorway of the office.
Olga again waves a dismissive hand, but this time, there's more force to it, it's more of a demand and less of a request. "Yeah, so's I," she mutters under her breath. She leaves it at that, jerking a cigarette free of its foil packaging and shoving it into her mouth. Her hand then goes to her box of matches and soon there's a bright spot of light dangling between her lips.
Cole clears his throat, nodding. "So...how's living in a porn theater working out for you?" The look on his face even as he speaks it shows it's not probably a question his higher brain functions would have recommended.
"Uh," is all Olga can say for a few seconds, before amusement sets in at the expression growing across Cole's face. "It's not like we still put on shows, y'know," she jests with a small tilt of her head. "Don' think Megan'd approve. So's not much different than living in a real theatre, 'cept the floors are stickier."
Cole, as all fifteen year old males do, appreciates a dirty joke, or a hint at one, when he hears one. He lets out an amused sound between a grunt and a snort. "Well, you could get someone to clean up the place with, like a day's work or so," he suggests, in a friendly tone.
Olga speaks and moves more slowly now, relaxing a little, alternating between puffs at her cigarette and small swigs of pop. "It'd take a helluva lot longer 'an that," she says, "and it'd take a rug shampooer and we don' got power. Anyway, it's not somethin' I'd put anybody through and we got more important things to see to, anyway." She pauses a moment, tapping off the edge of ashen crust on the desk, and then, pointing the small tube at Cole, she adds, "Y'know what'd really kick ass, though? Mushrooms. Fungus. Somethin' growing, something alive."
Cole grins at the thought. "Something you could eat, maybe," he jests. "No, I know what you mean. Something that'd bring some life here. Something that doesn't need too much sunlight, but just helps, right?" He leans against the least dirty patch of wall he can find, soda can in hand.
Olga nods absent-mindedly, smoking and drinking. "Y'see," she says, waving can and tube around, "it's more than jus' having a plant to spruce up the place. It's something that'll fight the decay, that'll replace it with growth, that'll make it worth something. It's bringin' the Wyld here, it's about bringin' some rat spirits around. It's all about how what's here does to what's there," she says, `there` being explained by a small circle drawn in the air with the glowing end of her cigarette. "Y'can call it Theurge feng-shui if y' like."
Cole nods in return. "It makes sense, from what everyone's told me. The Wyld likes growing things. Well, it shouldn't be too hard to get mushrooms or fungus, at any rate. You could just get some manure from a farm or something, and grab mushrooms from out in the woods. Dice 'em up, toss em' in and give them plenty of dark and damp. Boom. Instant garden." He smiles with enthusiasm for the minor project. As if he's craving something to do, after so much confinement.
Olga hunches up her shoulders; "I dunno," she says, "I dunno how mushrooms grow. Prob'ly could ask the Children," she offers, with a small grin crooking the corner of her mouth. "But, yeah, 's a pipe dream. I got too much to do, still gotta teach a whole shitload to Jo, 'cause it's about time for her to go on her Rite of Passage. Plus there's, well, Gnawer shit. Nothin' to concern others about."
Cole smiles at something or other. It's doubtful whether he gets the reference to the Children, not having had that much indoctrination about the stereotypes yet. It's clear his smile is polite agreement, rather than understanding. "Hey, Garou are Garou." He gives an impish grin. "Just don't tell Megan-Rhya I said that, or I think she just might kick my ass. Tribes are great and all, but it seems like we're all made for the same thing."
Olga doesn't know about that: she glances up at Cole, face tightening a little in disagreement, her head rolling from side to side. "All made for the same thing, yeah," she notes, stopping the movement of her head and taking a drag, "but not all the same. Gnawers are my family, I watch out for 'em and them for me in a way far tighter and stronger 'an just with the Garou. Don' go all Coggie on us, now, Megan's right about some things."
Cole shrugs eloquently. "Well, yeah, I guess. Maybe the adults know things I don't. Just maybe." Coming from someone his age, that's a rarely heard sentiment. "I'll just make up my own mind on things if it's all the same." He finishes off his soda, idly crushing the can in one fist with a 'crunch' that he seems to find satisfying.
Olga takes a small puff of her cigarette, ejecting smoke up at the ceiling, folding her legs tighter underneath her over the desk. Resting by her are two boxes, one full but one of doughnuts, the other the same of pop and juice. "Yeah," she says, "sure, whatever makes y' happy; though y' don't gotta go any further than the Roach Motel or the Fangs' place, 'nd then back here, to see that what I'm talkin' about's true."
Cole cocks his head to the side a bit, looking quizzical. "Where can you find the Fangs' place you mentioned," he asks, curiosity in his voice. He looks around for a trashcan for the soda can he crushed a moment ago.
A wide, cruel grin stretches across Olga's face as Cole asks his question. "Well if rumours're to be believed they ain't got one anymore," she says, taking obvious pleasure in that statement. "They're homeless as we are, and that's just fan-fucking-hilarious. If you wanna find out for sure, though, y'could ask Jervis. How come y'ask?"
The steps creak a bit as Joey makes her way down from upstairs. She is just about to pass the office, when the voices catch her and she stops to peak in. "Hey.. uh ya guys want anything? Gonna go get ice cream."
Cole clears his throat. "No reason, really," he responds, saved from further explanations by Joey's appearance. "Hey, Joey," he greets his fellow cub. "I'm all set with what we have here."
"Hey, Jo," Olga greets the cub almost delicately, her voice quiet. She opens the box of doughnuts and shows off two neat rows of doughy confection. She gives not another word, though she does accompany the gesture with a raise of her eyebrows, apparently feeling that's all the invitation needed.
Joey ohs, "Well, better to spend someone else’s money than my own right?" She steps inside the office, pausing halfway, "Ya talkin' private? Like, should I grab-n go or what?"
Cole looks to Olga, then shakes his head. "No, just shooting the breeze," he says glibly. He eventually settles on just setting the can down at his feet.
Olga doesn't answer Joey explicitly, probably considering Cole's enough; she just offers again a doughnut, nodding her head. "How y' been, kid?" she asks her, again, a little tentatively.
Joey reaches in to take a donut, grabbing one up and bringing it to her mouth as she nods, "Aight. I like Raul. He's cool." She munches down a big ole bite. "So yeah, alright I guess." She doesn't make very good eye contact with either of them though. But, such is Joey.
Cole looks around for a moment, then clears his throat. "I think I'm gonna start back home. 's getting sorta late. It was cool to talk to ya', Olga. See ya, Joey."
Olga's eyes flicker between the two cubs and she's quiet for a moment, then she scratches at her cheek with the fingernails of her cigarette hand and looks directly at Cole. "A'right," she says, with a rumbling roll of her shoulders. "Thanks f'r the grub, and y're welcome back anytime."
Cole offers a smile. "Thanks, Olga. See you both later, then." He makes his way back out of the office, toward the door. And of course, there's a moment's pause to glance at the movie poster. Then, he's gone, out into the city.

#23: Puppies and nervous kinfolk

Sun, 04 Jun 2006 03:03:20 GMT

Suggested Listening: Our Lady Peace's: Clumsy

Farmhouse: Kitchen and Dining Room
Homey is the first word to come to mind when looking at the farmhouse's kitchen. Dark, wood-paneled wainscoting covers the walls to about waist height, dark beige wallpaper continuing to the ceiling. Twin refrigerators occupy the north wall, facing the large six-burner stove on the south. The kitchen counter runs the length of the eastern wall, broken only by the double-basin sink. Cabinets run above and below the counter and a twin-pane window is set in the wall above the sink. A small pantry is set into an alcove alongside the refrigerators, presumably holding the deep freezer as well as shelves of dry goods.
Some twelve feet above the floor, a large chandelier hangs from the ceiling, lighting the dining room and casting long shadows over the bar to the kitchen. A long table occupies the center of the dining room, three chairs setting along each side, and one on each end. On the west wall, a large window looks out on the trees alongside the western pasture. Set into the north wall is a large cabinet, its glass doors closed on shelves containing a full compliment of fine china and glassware as well as a few decorative nicknacks. On the east, a wide bar separates the dining room from the kitchen.
An opening in the southern wall allows passage to the front entryway of the house, while a sliding glass door in the kitchen opens to a clearing behind the house.

Ah, Gaia, it's good to be a cub, sometimes. This is one of those times. With almost no activity going on within the Caern, Cole is enjoying a (very) late breakfast. A bowl of cereal in milk is clutched in one hand, a spoon in the other. The Galliard moves to the table, sitting down unceremoniously.
The front door opens very carefully, and Alexander peers around. "H...H...Hello?" It's barely a murmur, although he doesn’t realize it. Shutting the door behind him, the Kin moves through the lower floor, always peering around doors before entering. He looks ready to break and run at any moment, despite doing his best to disguise it.
Cole doesn't hear the Kin's murmur, unsurprisingly. Though he does notice when Alexander at least peers around the right doorway. He looks up, a spoonful halfway to his lips. He sets it down, quite aware that this is a new face. "Hey, there," he says, in a neutral tone.
Perhaps Alexander is in fact insane. It would seem he finds Cole eating cereal terrifying. "H....Hello." He manages, with a quick nod. "I....I..." Whatever he's about to say gets lost as he swallows.
Cole raises a brow, a slightly disbelieving look settling over his features. Maybe this is the Curse that he's been taught about. Which would mean...this one's a human? "My name's Cole," he interrupts, smiling in an attempt to be friendly and unthreatening.
Alexander jumps at the flash of Cole's pearly whites. "I....I..." He tries again. "Aubrey.....Jervis...Tobin." He's just throwing names out now, hoping one will grant him amnesty from this terrible feeling he's in the grip of.
Cole's smile withers away, not having had the intended affect. He attempts to keep his tone friendly, at least. "Oh, so you're friends with them? I don't think they're around, unfortunately. Haven't seen anyone, really. So...what's your name?"
There's a clattering at the back door, Raul bumping it open with his elbow and coming in, carrying a large cardboard box with him under one arm.
"G...G...Gr...Alexander." Alexander manages all in a rush, before jumping almost literally out of his skin at the disturbance from the back door. "F..f...family." Presumably he means either Aubrey or the Fangs are his family.
Cole nods, taking the news in stride. A glance at the somewhat respectable clothing and hair leads him in the right direction. "Jervis and Tobin are family," he asks, clarifying, before looking over to the sound and its source. "Uh. Hey." It seems like a day for strangers!
"Jervis is a freak," Raul announces, though it's cheerful enough. "Put the kettle on, kid," he then addresses to Cole, setting the box down on the sideboard and adjusting the blanket over the top.
Alexander nods gratefully to Cole. "F...f..family." He repeats, before Raul's comment about his childhood friend causes him to turn his attention to the newcomer. "J..Jervis..." He manages to say it quite strongly, but it all falls apart after that and no more words come.
Cole grins as he takes a closer look at Raul. "Is that some sort of saying, or do you actually want a kettle on the stove? And hey, Jervis isn't so bad." He tries to communicate through a glance not to break this obviously delicate Kin's little mind.
"Yes, I do actually want a cuppa," Raul directs to Cole. "Not some secret code mumbo jumbo or slang for hot sex." He reaches into the large cardboard box and draws out the groggy form of a puppy, roughly 6-7 weeks old and well grown. "Almost feedin' time."
Alexander seems to be unable to look away from the box as Raul reaches into it, but seems relieved when the only thing to come out of it is a puppy. He even manages a very strained smile. "P..puppy." Perhaps he's one of those 'special' types.
Cole almost (just almost!) tells Raul he can get his own, but then realizes that probably falls into one of those 'best avoided' commentaries. Besides, this is amusing. "I assume 'cuppa' is some obscure slang for tea?" Oh, the boy's showing his youth and inexperience, there! He nods to Alexander. "Yeah, a puppy. Huh." And then it strikes him. A Fang Kin who mentions Aubrey. It looks like Cole's face might just crack and fall off with his attempts not to grin or, worse yet, break into spasms of laughter.
"Tea, coffee, something hot and drinkable," Raul tells Cole dryly, not even trying to avoid the potential innuendo. He then looks to Alexander, remarking, "Yeah. Mine."
"Y...your puppy." Alexander smiles. Perhaps he doesn’t really understand what Raul means. The Kin then begins to inch away from the Cole when he notices the transformation on the cub's face.
Cole turns around rather quickly, shoulders betraying a slight tremble as he moves to the kitchen. The potential entendre whizzes right over his head. "Coffee, coming right up," he says, in a bit of a strained voice. He disappears into the kitchen, where occasional snickers and the clattering of mugs can be heard.
"So, what's your name?" Raul asks directly of Alexander, regardless of his smart clothing, big ring or Russian looks. "An' what are you doin' here. Take y'time 'bout answerin'."
Alexander seems very wary of Cole's shoulders trembling like that, looking to Raul as he answers the question. He seems grateful for the point about taking his time. "G....G...Gr..Alexander." A pause, before he moves onto the second part. "F...f...family."
Cole comes back a short time later, a trio of mugs held in his hands. He gives Alexander as much space as possible as he passes him getting to the table. "Here you go. Coffee," he slides the cup toward Raul at this. "Hot chocolate," and the mug is set next to the bowl of cereal. "And tea," he finishes, holding the cup out for the Kin. It's a mix of every tea he could find in the kitchen that promised anything to do with relieving tension or calming. Chamomile, mint, you name it.
"Gracias," Raul comments to the cub, cradling his pup in one hand, whilst clasping the mug in the other. "So. What's everyone been up to this mornin'?"
"T..tea." Alexander smiles, although he seems a little nervous of taking it from Cole. But take it he does. "Thhhanks." He moves away to sip on the tea. It tastes funny, but it does seem to have a slightly soporific effect.
Cole nods, giving a shrug. He seems to have mastered his amusement in the short time he was away. "'Welcome, the both of you. Uh. I don't think I caught your name when we met on the porch," he comments. "Cole."
From afar, Alexander can just imagine the next time Cole and Aubrey meet. Should be amusing.
"Raul Fixes-Stuff," the gnawer responds shortly to Cole, between sips of scalding hot coffee. "Gnawer, knife-moon, yadda yadda." He then nods to the pup in his hand. "This is Smudge. The other two, who are still asleep, are Badger and Lady."
Alexander, perhaps mercifully for the other two, doesn’t say anything. He just stands there drinking tea and trying not to shake too much.
Cole doesn't seem inclined to interrupt Alexander’s silence. Maybe he'll compose himself. "Cute. They're..." He seems to search out the tactful way to say this. "They're yours?" Well, that was just eloquent, wasn't it? He glances at the puppy, sleepy as it is.
Raul nods at Cole. "Yeah. Just about getting old enough to hang out with padre, instead of Madre."
Either Alexander is composing, or he's moved up to frozen terror. Either way, it's far more peaceful.
Cole grins at that. "Cool." The catch-all phrase for his generation having been used, the cub settles back to eating his now soggy breakfast. "Oh. Uh, not much going on today. Just taking a break today, y'know?"
Raul looks to the Kin expectantly.
Suddenly aware something's expected of him, Alexander manages to actually get a word out without stammering. "Nothing." The tea must be having a calming effect, since he's even able to add. "Quiet day."
Cole takes a moment to look vaguely impressed. "Looks like we're in the same boat, then, Alexander." Maybe a little empathy will calm the little spa-...poor man down.
Raul offers a smile and nods, sipping his coffee and then putting the mug down. "You mind putting some of the stored meat in the microwave to defrost?" he asks politely of Cole. "Deer or pig will do. Any cut."
"Yes." Alexander nods, sipping on his tea. He manages a quick smile for Cole, less strained than before.
Cole picks up his bowl, shrugging. "Sure, see what I can do. They're already weaned," he asks, conversationally. He gives a muted smile back to Alexander, making sure that it's only a curling of the lips, and no teeth. He's not so bad, once he gets calmed a bit. He's back into the kitchen, searching around.
Raul nods at the cub. "Yeah. They're taking mushed and minced meat now, though they still like milk - Madre is starting to run dry. Pity none of 'em are fully 'rou, though. Still, more Kin is a good thing."
"Kin." Alexander smiles at Raul. He's Kin. Maybe this place is safer than he thought. Then there's a look of understanding, as the man suddenly realizes the pups are Kin.
Cole makes some garbled sound of understanding and agreement, not yet making his reappearance. There's the sound of the 'nuke starting up, and of dishes being washed.
Raul nods at Alexander. "Yeah. You've heard of lupus Garou and lupus Kin, right?"
"Yeah." Alexander nods, looking at Raul over his cup of tea. The cup seems to have become something of a comfort blanket. "Had some back home."
Ding! The nuke announces the defrosting's completion. Cole uses a sharp knife to quickly cut up the meat as small as he can. He grabs a bowl, puts the chunks of pork in, and comes back into the room. "Where's home," he asks, on his way by.
Raul nods to the pups. "These are lupus kin too. Only, a lot of Gnawer kin has canine blood too, 'cause of us living in the city, where there ain't too many wolves 'part from other 'rou."
"W..West Virginia." Alexander replies to Cole. Raul is apparently slightly less threatening. Remembering what he was taught about the Gnawers, the Kin merely nods.
Cole sets the bowl on the table before Raul. "Kin is Kin, I guess. They're always needed." He sets himself back down at his seat, taking his own mug and taking a sip at last.
Raul offers a crooked smile. "They are. These guys kind of make up for my last litter." He gently pets Smudge's muzzle as the puppy stirs more actively, smelling the defrosted meat. "Not long now, pup," he rumbles to the squirming baby, depositing him back into the box with his siblings and heading over to take the bowl of minced pork.
Alexander falls silent, not daring to ask what happened to the last litter.
Cole pushes himself up, taking his mug with him. "Well, I should probably get going with my day. It was good to see you again, Raul. Good luck with Smudge, Badger and Lady." He nods toward Alexander. "And it was good to meet you, too. Say hi to Aubrey-Rhya, if you see her." He deposits his dishes in the kitchen, and starts to move out to the porch.
"Walk with Gaia," Raul bids to the departing cub, nabbing his seat at the table after putting the meat into the microwave on full power.
And there's a long, appreciative whistle from the front portion of the house, and that's it from the cub.
"Aubrey's not here for a bit." Alexander sounds rather sad about that. The whistle makes him jump out of his skin once more.

#22: Saturday night is alright for a fight

Sun, 04 Jun 2006 02:58:23 GMT

Suggested Listening: Nickelback's Next Contestant

Big Red Barn
The barn is built in the old style, a vast three level structure that is greater in height than a mere three stories, actually closer to five. Great wooden posts support the weight of the upper levels and roof, sunk into the hard-packed dirt floor of the first level like a sparse forest of regularly spaced, naked trees. The stalls and flagstones which once were here have been torn out to leave a rather open area where even crinos Garou may roam freely without fear of running into anything but the supports or the walls or the ladder at the back which allows access to the other two levels.
The first two levels are relatively open to each other, the second being only little wider than a catwalk going around all the walls but the front one, which has massive, twenty foot tall doors set into it. The third level is a true second floor except for a place cut out that allowed hay to be tossed down to the ground floor when the farm was actually worked. Now, it is a hayloft where Garou can sleep outside of the house.

Lucas offers the other Ahroun a nod of his head. "Better to regroup and plan a way to take it back, then give the caern to them in a suicide run."
Aiyana mms softly. "Bout the same it is now, 'cept I think we had a different totem. Could ask one of the older Garou, they'd be able t'tell you for sure." She nods back to Lucas with a hint of a smile. "Yup."
Kenneth glances between the Ahrouns, and then back to the punching bag. Point taken. "Better not happen again, though," he rumbles out. "Cause then..."
"Then we'll have a lot of work to do to be of any use." Lucas says as he lifts a brow in Ken's direction, smirking.
Aiyana snerks, grinning. "I don't think they will. Not anytime soon, at least. And by then I'm sure both of you'll be Rited and impressin' the hell outta your elders. For now, though, just keep practicin'."
Kenneth has a time imagining what a Black Spiral would look like in punching bag form. "Sooner the better, I suppose. Riting, that is."
"Practice, practice, practice.." Lucas says as he finally pulls himself off the floor, stretching his arms. "Not like we got anything else to do... b'sides whittle sailboats."
Smiling, Aiyana gives a shrug. "Hey, I was a late Riter. Don't rush into it. Make sure you're prepared. Y'can die durin' it, y'know. I almost did durin' mine," she notes, snorting playfully at Lucas. "Hey, whittlin' might come in handy. I mean, what if y'get sent to prison? Y'could whittle a shiv outta your toothbrush."
Kenneth sort of looks at Aiyana like she's out of her mind. That too, passes quickly. "Like bars are going to hold in a Garou." The Philodox smirks, and then looks to Lucas. "You all healed up?"
"Ah, but there is the Veil." Lucas holds up his pointer finger. See, point being made. "No breaking out of jail using illegal supernatural gifts." Then the finger turns, and points at Kenneth. "And yes, I'm healed. Why?"
Aiyana snaps her fingers at Lucas. "Give the kid a prize. Y'can't go around shiftin' in public, not unless y'wanna get smacked by another Garou for bein' stupid. Gotta play like you're still normal, y'know? Now, if y'know how to, ah, pick locks with a gift, that's a different story."
Kenneth snorts, standing up himself. "I didn't say to blow out of jail like this is a country western." The Philodox stretches his hands out, and then looses them as he gives the Ahroun cub a wry look. "I thought I'd ask for a rematch, from that day in the woods."
Cole steps into the barn, too preoccupied to bother looking to see if anyone's already there. True to his heritage, it would seem, there's a beer in his hand, already half gone. He blinks owlishly, looking up, when he /does/ notice people there. "Oh."
Lucas grins wide, toothy. "A rematch, eh? Hmmmm..." The Ahroun rubs the back of his neck, looking like he's thinking long and hard on it. "Do we have to do the hiding and seeking, or just skip that part and get to the mud wrestling?"
Aiyana smirks. "Mud wrestlin'? Sounds like questionable stuff t'me," she teases, waving to the lost looking Cole as he enters. "Join t'party, man! Room for all!"
"Hmph. No hiding necessary," the Shadow Lord replies, gaze leveling to the lost cub, for the moment ignoring Cole and Aiyana. A slight upward tilt of his lip melts away as the halfmoon rises and then sinks into the form of lupus.
Cole's lost expression melts away, a grin coming to the fore. "Thanks. Nice to know I'm welcome in the barn any time of day or night." He lifts his drink in salute, and finishes it off at a swallow. "Blegh. Tastes like piss, still." He glances at everyone gathered, and clears his throat. "So...I don't recall seeing any of you guys around here, before."
"Lupus? Huh, alright." Lucas chuckles and follows suit. One form to the other, until the wolf is selected. Click. The big black wolf flares out his coat, puffing himself up as he eyes the other wolf. Cole, for the moment, doesn't get any introductions.
Aiyana watches Ken shift, then turns her attention to Cole. "Ah, intros. Gotta love 'em. Aiyana Hernandez, better known as She-Who-Strikes-Without-Fear t'my tribe, the Gnawers. Ahroun Cliath t'boot. These scruffy lookin' mutts here are cubs. I'm sure they can intro themselves, if they're not feelin' lazy."
A large man, oddly clad in winter's clothes, fur, in spite of the season, enters the barn, prepared to scowl at idle cubs complaining of boredom. Reggie closes the door behind himself with a shove of his arm.
Kenneth will introduce himself later. Hell, he didn't introduce himself fully to Aiyana either. The Shadow Lord cub's hackles flare up as he bares his teeth in challenge, ears forward and fiery golden eyes meeting icy blue. The two lupus form cubs might even be mistaken for the same tribe, given how similar they seem to appear. Stalking forward towards the Ahroun, the Philodox feints a charge, just to test.
Cole nods his head, respectfully. "Brian Cole, Duck-To-Water. Galliard of the Fianna, commencing my Rite of Passage." He brightens a bit at something or other, before looking over to spot the large man entering. "Well, this really is a party, isn't it?" The empty bottle is set aside.
And the Ahroun doesn't back down in the face of the mock charge, instead baring his teeth and looking like he's going to meet it. But Fears-No-Darkness doesn't, and begins to pace, inviting the other to begin circling. He shows himself off in typical wolf fashion - he's big, he's healthy, and he's got really long, sharp teeth. You are going to lose again. He mocks the Philodox with a growl.
Aiyana keeps an eye on the cubs in case things get out of hand, but she does smile brightly to Cole. "Well, g'luck with that, man! Hope it works out for ya." The newcomer Reggie is given a wave and a motion to come join the group and watch the sparring match.
Reggie turns away from the door, shielding a lighter with a hand as he lights a cigarette. Clicking the lighter shut, he looks up to regard the lupus’s face-off, and he stands a moment, bemused. These are the cubs that were whining about boredom before?
The Shadow Lord growls back, circling in turn, making himself out to be just as big, healthy, strong, and quick as the other, if not more. You just try and win, the halfmoon growls in reply, confidence in his every step. Then, again, the halfmoon lunges - the charge is different. He's practiced.
Cole smiles at Aiyana. "Thanks much, Aiyana. Hey, I have a question for ya, if you don't mind my asking. Where do you Gnawer types hang out?"
The Uktena trails smoke as he steps over to Aiyana, frowning at Cole as he does so. "You're Riting?", he asks, then pointedly looks around.
Aiyana perks up a bit. "Nah, don't mind at all!" she replies, grinning. "We just took over the Odeon. Ever hear of it? Used to be a porno theater," the Ahroun admits with an amused expression. "Now it's home. Hopefully. Welcome to the party, man," she comments to Reggie once he ventures over.
As the Philodox charges, Fears-No-Darkness does too. He drives in low and hard, to throw himself against the Shadow Lord's chest and hopefully throw him off balance. Everyone else in the barn is ignored, free to take bets if they like.
Kenneth pages to the room: Only being a Garou will you have two wolves fighting each other while a few others just stand around talking.
Cole grins at Aiyana, grey eyes giving an excited glint. "Alright. Would you mind showing me the way there, sometime? Maybe I could come hang out there?" Someone actually WANTS to hang out with the Gnawers? That must be something fairly unusual. He looks over to Reggie, and nods. "Yes, sir." Best to be respectful, after all.
"What", Reggie asks, while keeping a wary eye on the fighters, "Are you doing for this rite? Trying to find all the Gnawers secrets?"
Aiyana's brows lift, but she nods cheerfully to Cole. "Sure, bro! I'd be glad to, but just t'make sure I'll ask Olga first. Doubt she'll have any prob with it, though, I just donna wanna overstep m'elder, is all." Reggie's comment gets a low chuckle from her, but she doesn't reply to it.
Kenneth's charge isn't halted, but rather intended for redirection. Using the Ahroun’s driving energy, the halfmoon twists his body, almost cat-like, so the brunt force of the Ahroun’s blow is sunk into a purposefully retracted leg. Fangs flash, and faced with the initial opportunity to get the first blood, the halfmoon strikes from above and to the side, directing his jaws towards the Ahroun’s shoulder.
Cole grins toward Reggie. "Sorry, I could tell you, but then they'd have to kill me." He may be grinning, but, it could be the truth. Still grinning, he looks to Aiyana. "Cool! Now that I'm allowed out of this place, I want to see some sites. And hey, an old theater, porno or no..."
The teeth are buried into flesh, but it does little to hamper the Ahroun. So it seems they're gonna play dirty. That's just fine by him. Fears-No-Darkness twists his jaws around and stretches them wide, striking like a caught snake to sink his fangs deep into the halfmoon's neck.
Reggie stares unamusedly at Cole, as he dangles his cigarette between the fingers of his good hand.
Aiyana smirks at Cole. "Well, it's nothin' impressive, but it keeps the rain offa our heads, and that's good enough for us." She glances up to Reg, "So what've you been up to, bro? Anythin' interestin'?"
Ah, but like the oily snake, the Shadow Lord doesn't keep his fangs in for long. Strike and release, there is no venom from the halfmoon's fangs; only the draw of blood. The lost cub's teeth graze his neck as he hops off to one side, only causing a set of scratches. The Philodox growls low again, teeth bared this time with a slight dipping of pinkish red on the end of his muzzle. It seems the conversation happening is unnoticed.
Cole meets Reggie's gaze for a moment, and coughs. "Uh. Yeah. So." He looks back around the barn. "Huh. Those guys are gonna leave some nasty marks on each other, if no one does anything about it." He doesn't sound horribly concerned, either.
In a strangled growl, the Uktena directs towards Cole, "The only other caern in Washington State, besides us, fell. I'm in no mood for your lip". Reggie leans forward and grabs Cole by the collar in a threatening gesture.
Aiyana gets to her feet, ready to shove Reg away from Cole if needed. "The cubs are fine. You two, however, should take a step back from one another. Specially you," she directs at Reg, her eyes narrowing briefly. "Let the kid go, man. It's not like he made the caern fall himself."
Relentlessly, no sooner does his first attempt miss and the Lord scoot away, than the lost cub drives in so as not to loose distance. He moves alarmingly fast, Rage burning in his eyes, and aims a snap at the other cub that, if successful, will close on his muzzle like a steel trap.
Cole gets grabbed and looks up to meet Reggie's gaze. "I'm sorry. I didn't know." He's definitely sincere, from the tone of his voice. "But...ah...my throat sorta likes being not constricted. So...if you could let me down? Please?"
Reggie's fingers spasm, then he forces them to release the material with an effort. Clenching his hand to his chest, he turns away from Cole, and walks to the other side of the barn, cutting through the area used by the fighting cubs.
The two lupines continue their fast and furious battle. Kenneth only has just enough time to open his jaws back up. The lost cub's form moves eye-blurry fast, and his harness of Rage fueled speed helps earn him a draw of blood as fangs scrape along fangs and both muzzles are cut up, though the Shadow Lord’s has slightly deeper slices. Undeterred, the halfmoon unlocks himself from the dangers of a jaw hold and sinks down low into what should be a playbow, but really obviously isn't. With his own blur of speed his charge up is coupled with a mean full force butt of his head right towards the underside of the Ahroun’s jaw to snap it shut and drive the full moon back.
Cole rubs at his throat, though there really wasn't any damage done. He'd hate to think of what would happen if the moon were any larger in the sky. He smiles shakily at Aiyana. "Thanks."
Aiyana sighs and shakes her head, glancing back to Cole as she follows after Reggie. "Can you watch those two, make sure they don't kill each other?" she asks, looking a bit frustrated. "And it's cool, just doin' my job." Smiling faintly, she goes to catch up with Reg. "Yo, man! You wanna talk, or get out some of that aggression? Can't be healthy, keepin' it all in like that..."
Cole raises a brow. "Yeah. I guess I could...ah...bleed on them, or something, if it gets that bad." He mumbles this to her and turns to face the fighting.
Reggie pulls up short, and turns on Aiyana sharply. "I don't want company!" Never mind that he's inside the barn instead of somewhere more lonely on or around the bawn.
The halfmoon's head connects with the bottom of Luc's jaw, which sounds like an awesome collision of equally thick skulls. He takes a few steps back, snarling and bristling, but doesn't attack again right away.
Aiyana keeps her ground, standing up to her full height. "Coulda fooled me," she replies back in a calm voice. "Usually people who wanna be left alone go hide in the woods or somethin'. Now, you gonna settle down and get shit offa your chest, or what, bro?" She flinches at the sound coming from the fight, but doesn't look back.
Maybe it's the sudden tension added by the happenings amongst the others, but Kenneth's wolven instinct has kicked in and he's completely focused onto the fight. To go down is to lose, and he can't afford to lose. The halfmoon presses his thin advantage, form blurring again as his agility proves itself with a feint to one side, and attack from the other, this time another weighted lunge again, to knock the rival wolf off balance or better, onto his side.
Reggie glowers silently at Aiyana for several moments, before snarling. "Great idea. I'm going to grab a bottle and be alone with it". Deliberately pushing Aiyana aside, he marches straight for the door.
Cole decides to wait and watch the fight, to see if it actually gets out of hand. For now, though, it's...well, relatively tame, at least. Until Reggie has to pass by him to make the doors. "I'm deeply sorry, sir," he says, in a somber tone, stepping well to the side. He tries not to give the elder any reason to think him mocking, or anything but well-meaning.
Aiyana tenses at the shove, but lets Reg walk off. "Had too damn many whiners lately," she grumbles as she heads back towards the fight, eyeing the cubs closely. "A'ight boys, y'might wanna consider tonin' it down and takin' a break, y'know?"
Steeling himself, Fears-No-Darkness does his best to keep his eye on the charging Shadow Lord, and at the right time lunges aside, to collide with only air and perhaps risk overthrowing his own balance. Should this happen, it's sure shooting the Ahroun will be ready to move in to try and get the halfmoon on the ground and keep him there.
Opening the door, Reggie pauses to cast a last glare about at people, before doing his best to slam it. The door bounces open again, and he kicks it shut. The sound of his stomping off his clear even through the door.
Cole turns around, eyeing the door for a moment. Then, he casts a great big honking middle finger at the door. "Nice to meet you, too. Sure, welcome to the Fianna hangout. Please, manhandle their cubs. No, it's alright."
Kenneth doesn't, but his balance is solid - like he has a good knowledge of where all his parts and weight is being thrown about. Large paws dig into the dirt as the halfmoon whirls around, the sound of the slamming door cracking like thunder through the barn, accompanied with a hefty snarl. Night-dark fur still puffed out in aggressive posture, the halfmoon circles again, watching his opponent, unheeding of the other Garou in the vicinity.
Aiyana smirks faintly at Cole. "Aw, I'm sure after he breaks shit he'll be fine. Let 'em go." Her gaze moves back to the cubs as she shifts down to lupus herself, her tail giving a brief wag as her tongue lolls out of her muzzle. Play nice, boys.
Cole looks back, his anger, faint as it was, already fading. "Yeah, just fuming a little. Glad it's only no-moon, tonight." Seeing everyone else doing it, he shrinks down into lupus as well. I'm impressed, the wolf communicates.
Fears-No-Dark settles right into the circling, his tail held up in the air like a taunting banner. He snarls and snaps at the halfmoon, goading him, trying to prick his Rage. You can run, but you can't fight. All feet. No teeth. Run, coward!
Fearless-Strike quirks an ear, the metal in it jingling softly. Well, I'm sure it's just temporary. And impressed by what? Fears' taunts make her snort, but she doesn't comment on them.
Duck-To-Water glances toward Fearless. Impressed that they've been fighting this long, and not done anything really serious to each other.
All bark and no bite are you. Attack then! The Shadow Lord goads back, tail flagged just as high, ears pinned forward as he gauges the next opportunity to clash.
Fearless-Strike woofs softly and wags her tail. Don't count your chickens just yet, she replies, stretching herself out before returning to an upright stance. They don't seem to be done just yet.
Duck-To-Water chuffs. They will hurt each other soon, yes. Just not yet. He goes to his stomach, stretching out on the floor to watch.
Fears-No-Dark bares his teeth in a wicked lupine grin, continuing to circle, almost casually. No doubt, tho', the Ahroun is good and ready to jump back into action, but he's taking the time to enjoy himself while he waits. You are angry I beat you. I was better. You were not.
The Shadow Lord cub, if one could read a smirk on a wolf, does just that. You took too long to find me, Weak-Nose. I got impatient and let you win. Pink tongue flickers out between his fangs, tauntingly.
Fearless-Strike shakes her head once, then flops down near Duck. Like most young men, they're all talk and no game, she comments in an amused tone.
Duck-To-Water looks offended, if a wolf can. Careful, the wolf warns, playfully, tail swishing over the ground.
Fears-No-Dark snorts and pricks his ears forward. You are a bad Philodox then. No patience. You let me win then ask to fight again? Liar. His tail begins to curl slightly, and obviously he's more intent on arguing like old women than actually fighting - thank you, dark moon.
Fearless-Strike chuffs and swats lightly at the other wolf with a paw. Well, it's true. All you males do is run your mouths, like gossiping old hens. You're worse than females, I swear.
Duck-To-Water rolls to his side as he's swatted, looking on through his amused grey eyes. So you say. I don't brag if I can't back it up, he asserts.
The banter ends as soon as the Shadow Lord senses the Ahroun’s slip of fighting will. In an explosion of offensive power and speed, the Philodox roars with his attack, fangs going full force to snap at the Ahroun’s muzzle and face, even his forepaws getting in on the attack with sharp slices of the unretractable claws for any part of the Ahroun that comes into contact. The sheer ferocity is something to be noted, if nothing else.
Mmm-hmm, Fearless-Strike replies, her stance both relaxed and pleased. She's in a good mood. I try not to brag at all. Wastes time when I could be using that energy to kick the snot out of my opponent. Less talk, more combat. Her attention's diverted by one of the black wolves crying out and she gets to her feet, the fur along her shoulder blades bristling in mild aggravation. Do I have to separate you two?
Duck-To-Water grunts. I don't brag in combat. I'm too busy fighting, then. It's before it that I have to brag. Which is mostly just with friends, it turns out. He stands up, as well. Come on, you two. You're both big, strong males. We're impressed.
Now that's what he was talking about. Fears-No-Darkness rises to meet it, baring his teeth in the face of claws that tear away his fur and jaws that snap at his face and tear his muzzle. Bunching his powerful hind quarters, the lost cub pulls an unexpected maneuver. Fast and terrifying, he erupts into motion, hulking up into the larger dire wolf form and using the superior weight to drive the other wolf into the ground.
Fearless-Strike snorts, annoyed, as she rises up into her large crinos form. She doesn't move to pull the two wolves apart just yet, but she does drum the tips of her right set of claws against her hip. ~Kids these days. No respect for their elders, I tell ya,~ she grumbles, flipping her ears back briefly. ~C'mon, guys. Break it apart before you two snap and start maulin' each other in crinos. That's the last thing I wanna deal with.~
Duck-To-Water takes a moment to look idly amused at the way Fearless looks, standing her warform, like a mother scolding children.
Things just got a whole lot worse, as the scuffle of lupus becomes clash of Hispo. Blood is shed as the wolves clash, but with the small size of the lupus, the halfmoon slips like a snake around a rock, rolling away and up to his paws again. Anger blazes within. It's the Ahroun who has the weight advantage, but it's soon met with the shift of the Philodox to Hispo as well, his just a might slower without the Rage to burn in his veins and speed his change.
Fears-No-Dark looks like he still has energy to burn, and no desire to back down or lose. He stands tall and bristles, his teeth bared to the gums and a growl rolling from his belly.
Fearless-Strike snarls, then lets out a sharp, loud bark as she bares her fangs towards the cubs. ~ENOUGH!~ she bellows, stomping over towards them, clawed hands outstretched and ready to grab them both by the scruffs of their necks. ~Time out!~
Duck-To-Water watches on, now somewhat more impressed than amused. He's still in lupus, and probably the calmest one in the barn. He's on his belly.
The Shadow Lord snarls in return, wordlessly but full of accusation at the Ahroun. And in a way, it carries some triumph. The Ahroun shifted first, and this is a mild (very mild) victory. Luckily there's just enough time between the crackling of invisible lightning between the two black Hispo, that Aiyana can slip in. Not that Kenneth hears her. His target is still, locked on the Ahroun.
The older Ahroun's hand seizes the younger one's scruff, and just for a moment, the Rage sparks in his eyes. He makes a move to snap at her hand out of reflex, but realizing she is an elder, lowers his lips back over his fangs. Then, his eyes settle back on Kenneth, and growls lowly in his throat.
Fearless-Strike gives the pup a -look-, her eyes narrowing as she pushes him aside and steps between the two. ~Can we take a breather now, without one of you dodgin' past and goin' after the other? Because seriously, whoever tries that is gonna end up with my teeth in their throat, and I won't be gentle about it.~
Joshua comes in through the door at the bellowing, sliding in through the crack without opening the door too terribly far. The sight of all the Hispos and such gives even the rage-whore a moments pause, as if evaluating if this was exactly a 'safe' place to be. Apparently he lacks to terribly large of a death wish, since he shifts right up to Crinos as soon as he secures the door shut behind him, the white Ahroun leaning on that war spear of his as he takes in the scene.
Duck-To-Water looks up as the door opens, spotting the white crinos. He has enough sense not to growl, but anyone reading his body language would find it tense. Tense as hell.
~You shifted,~ the Shadow Lord rumbles dangerously to the lost cub Ahroun, not sitting at all, muscles twitching with the want to continue but restrained. Thank Gaia for the dark moon. With the entrance of yet another, the Philodox ear swivels, but he does not turn away.
Fears-No-Dark doesn't make a move to continue the fight, but remains posturing, and retorts. ~I did not frenzy.~ Which is amazing, in itself. ~You did not say we had to stay in one form. Be more specific, when you challenge.~
Fearless-Strike growls a warning to Kenneth-wolf, her fur starting to prickle up again. ~I don't want to hear it. You both fought well, so congratulate one another on a battle well done, and leave it at that. Otherwise I'm gonna get nippy.~
White Bear eyes the two Hispo, still leaning hard on the shaft. His posture changes at the words of the bone Gnawer, to something akin to irritation. ~What is going on here?~ He finally rumbles from his place by the door.
Duck-To-Water looks up for a moment, not nearly long enough to be construed as a challenge. A fight is winding down, the wolf asserts.
The halfmoon bridges his fangs together, a toothy, not particularly pleasant smile going to the lost cub. ~A re-match suggests same terms,~ the Philodox replies before gazing up at the Gnawer Cliath. Neither of the cubs looks to be backing down from one another - on the other hand, they don't look like they're going to kill each other either. The Philodox looks back to the Ahroun, silence enveloping him.
Fearless-Strike grunts softly to White Bear. ~They were sparring, but things started to get a little out of control. It's cool now. This one,~ she points to Kenneth, ~Is more like an angry raccoon or badger than wolf. Never relents, doesn't know when to quit. Head like concrete. Hard and hollow.~
Fears-No-Dark snorts back at the halfmoon. ~No terms were given then. Only to seek and find.~ He puffs up his fur again, licking his jaws with their splattering of blood.
White Bear eyes the scene. Finally, he snorts a gruff noise as he pads forward slightly, using the but of the spear like a walking stick. ~You know the rules, Strikes-Without-Fear. Firewatcher Rhya says unless they are of your tribe, you may only prevent them from killing each other. They are free to fight short of that.~ Dangerous words, but White Bear isn't thinking about that right now.
Auggie comes in from the barnyard, wondering what all the commotion and growling he hears is about. Opening the door with an audible creak, he peeks in, and notices he's standing behind crinos White Bear. *Very carefully* he clears his throat, to alert the Walker he's behind him, closes the door with a little slam, and limberly maneuvers around him to get a view of what's going on in here.
The Shadow Lord glares at the Gnawer Cliath, growling wordlessly though the wolf in him demands he submit to her because of rank. Licking at his cut up muzzle as well, he snorts at her and turns to pad further into the barn. A glance is sent back to Fears-No-Dark. ~Next time then. Good fight.~
~Same.~ Rumbles out Fears-No-Darkness, only turning away once Kenneth has. He moves over to one side of the barn and sits, finally taking the time to realize there's quiet a crowd in here.
Duck-To-Water pushes himself to his feet with a grunt. With a roll of lupine eyes, he moves toward the door. Good night. I need to sleep. Fearless-Strike-Rhya, would you ask Olga if she minds me coming to Odeon? She knows me already, I believe.
Fearless-Strike gives White Bear a displeased look. ~I didn't want to risk the chance they might fly off and frenzy on one another. If protecting cubs is illegal now, then by all means, punish me,~ she snorts in reply as she takes a couple steps away from the cubs, nodding to the cubs as they decide to play nice for now. She then glances at Duck and smiles toothily. ~I will do so, next time we run into one another. But I doubt she'll mind. Rest well and once again, good luck on your Rite.~
Duck-To-Water wags his tail, and moves toward the door. Thank you, Fearless-Strike-Rhya. With that, the wolf assumes human shape, and walks out the door.
White Bear snorts, mirroring Fearless-Strike's displeased look. ~It is a small moon. The risk is small. You are protecting them from nothing. And you are free to argue with the Alpha if you wish. However, until then you must follow the rules laid forth.~
Auggie just moves over to the side, to allow Duck-to-Water to pass by, eyeing all of the Garou present thoughtfully. It seems a bit inappropriate now to greet all those he knows - just a little tense in here. For some weird reason, he decides Fearless-Strike is the "safest" person, and raises a hand in quiet greeting to her, while moving to take a seat on a nearby hay bale.

#21: The first day of the rest of his life

Sat, 03 Jun 2006 21:11:26 GMT

Suggested Listening: Queen's Headlong

Farmhouse: Hallway and Living Room
All doorways in the front part of the house lead to the front hallway, a J-shaped area with the short tail starting at the stairs, the front door hitting the bottom curve, the doorless opening to the living room halfway up the long side, and the also doorless opening to the kitchen and dining room at the very top. The hall has a simple wooden floor, and decorated with a generic print of soft-colored flowers hanging on the wall to the right of the front door, and a tall table sitting under the print which serves as a place to toss keys. A closet under the stairs serves as a place to hang coats or to toss shoes.
The doorless opening to the living room is halfway up the side of the hall's J, and the word cozy might spring to mind when looking into is, as it seems to radiate comforting vibrations. A long couch sits against the south wall beneath a large bay window curtained only by sheers that manages to obscure the view in but only filters the day's light. A variety of out-of-date magazines are strewn atop a low coffee table; more neatly presented are the plethora of books filling the small bookshelves which line the eastern wall. Three chairs sit about the room, focused inward, to allow group conversations. Large floor pillows are stacked in one corner of the room, except one, which lies carelessly in the middle of the floor, apparently left out the last time it was used.
An opening in the northern end of the hallway allows access to the kitchen and dining room at the back of the house, while carpeted stairs twist up at the other end of the hall, leading to the second floor. A door at the base of the J lets out to the front porch.

Currently the moon is in the waning No Moon phase (13% full).
Currently in Saint Claire, it is a cloudy day. The temperature is 59 degrees Fahrenheit (15 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from the north at 8 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 30.05 and rising, and the relative humidity is 87 percent. The dewpoint is 55 degrees Fahrenheit (12 degrees Celsius.)
Well, it's a day like any other. At least, it seems that way for the Fianna cub known as Cole. He's currently gazing out the window, facing backwards on the couch as he does so. His chin is propped up on the heel of one palm, and he appears lost in thought.
Trevor comes in through the front door. He seems very serious today, and formal. "Cole?" The older Fianna calls out, not having noticed the boy staring out the window.
Cole starts at hearing his name called out, jerking his head around to face his mentor. "Oh! Trevor-Rhya! Good morning. Didn't hear you come in."
"Cole." Trevor nods once. "Have you done all you need to do this morning?"
Cole notices something is up by the lack of bantering, and stands up. "Yes, Trevor-Rhya. My chores are done, and nothing's left."
"That's good." Trevor replies. "We're going to the Grotto. We'll head into the woods, then make the rest of the journey in lupus."
Cole nods, showing a strange sort of restless energy as he shifts. "Alright. Is there anything I should bring or get, Trevor-Rhya?"
Trevor shakes his head. "Just yourself Cole. Just yourself."
Cole ventures a smile, weak as it is. "Guess I'm ready, then, huh?"
The smile Trevor returns is more confident. "Aye, it's time. Time you became a man and took your place among your Family. Come, Megan-Rhya waits."
Cole finds his smile bolstered by that. The waiting is over! "Yes, Trevor-Rhya." He brushes some imaginary dirt off of himself and looks toward the door.
Grotto
The woods part suddenly, here, amidst the quiet roar of falling water. A wide stream spills over the edge of a rocky face that is the western edge of a hill some thirty feet high. The stones are worn smooth with the passing of time, and are slick with moisture and soft mosses, but a climb up the drier rocks would not be impossible, and there is a sense of space behind the falls.
A wide pool has been carved into the earth by the rushing waters, and the tall trees have grown out around it, sheltering the grotto in a pleasantly-cool shade. Rocks, hewn from the cliff face and shouldered along the path of the stream, form a rough ring around the edge of the pool and guide the flow of water further westwards, again deeper into the woods. All manner of animal tracks are visible in the sandier areas of shore; the trees crouch close against the edge of the stream again as it passes further west, muting the dull thunder of the falls.
Faint trails, between the trees, lead off in all directions, while a determined climb eastwards would crest the rock face.
In The Grotto, an area has been marked out in the shape of Cole's moon. Off to one side of the sacred space are plain black robes for the participants to wear. Along with the robes are a large knife, clearly one reserved for rituals, a large, lightly-curved, bowl full of kindling, and a box of matches.
Megan is already there when the two galliards arrive, and although their are black robes there, she is not wearing them. In fact, she's wearing not a stitch of clothing, only the swirling blue streaks which Trevor, at least, might immediately recognize as the particular shade of woad. It's also the first time that either of them have probably seen such an overt display of, or acknowledgement of, her human ethnic origins. She is seated in a crouch near the ceremonial objects, left leg in a kneeling position, the right foot flat on the ground with the leg and knee drawn up loosely towards her chest while she waits.
Duck-To-Water pauses for just a moment's time when he comes loping into the opening from the forest. He takes in the scene, cocking his head curiously. Megan, herself, gets all of an instant's glance before the wolf jerks his gaze back to the preparations.
Sings-To-Spirits nudges the cub with his body. It's not hard, but it's hard enough to get his attention. The large black wolf then shifts to Homid, approaching Megan and dipping his head in respect. "Megan-Rhya. We are ready to begin, if you are?"
Megan pushes to her feet, more with power than any great grace, better showing that the woad really does go all the way from foot to crown. Her response to Trevor is to nod soberly, then level a heavy look onto Duck-to-Water while she waits for the Ritemaster to begin.
Cole follows suit, shifting to his birth form smoothly. His attention was most definitely gotten. He remains silent, though, apparently not knowing what to say. He meets Megan's gaze without flinching, at least.
Trevor indicates to Megan that she should stand at the top end of the moon, which she does. "Cole, if you could change into one of those robes." The older Galliard does likewise. Once Cole is changed, the Ritemaster indicates the cub should stand at the bottom of the moon. He takes a position between the two others, with the preparations.
Cole does as he's instructed, quickly and quietly. He doesn't stress modesty as he changes too much, shucking his dedicated garments and slipping the robe over his shoulders. He moves to the bottom point of the moon, watching on with anxious eyes.
Trevor places the bowl and knife at his feet, before beginning to speak. "Among the peoples our Kin originated from, it was the custom that when a young person felt they were ready to become an adult they would go before the Elder of their village. The Elder would set them a series of tasks that tested them in many different ways. Only when they had completed the tasks would they be recognized as adults. That is what we remember now, as we being this Rite. Our heritage. Who we are." There's a pause, then the Galliard turns to Cole. "Is this why you are here before your Elder today? To receive the tests of Adulthood?"
Cole nods. "Yes, Trevor-Rhya." He keeps his voice steady, even though he's visibly wound up in knots about this. "I'm here to receive the tests of Adulthood."
"Spirits!" Trevor calls out. "I invite you here who recognize the Pact to watch over and sanctify this Rite, as we test this young man for his worthiness to stand among the Fianna as an adult." He bends down and takes the bowl up, lighting the kindling. "Let this fire signify the beginning of the Rite. As the sun comes on the start of each day, now the sun has risen on the start of a new time in this Cub's life." He gestures to Cole to draw near, taking up the knife. "Hold out your hand, and give of your blood."
Cole pays keen attention to the words his mentor speaks, then moves over, his robes whispering around his legs. He raises his arm, offering his hand palm-up to Trevor and waiting.
Making a cut straight across Cole's palm, Trevor lets a few droplets of blood fall from the blade into the bowl of fire. Gesturing to Cole to return to his station, the Ritemaster throws back as his head and lets out a sound that mimics a hunter's horn. Once, twice, thrice as the blood boils away. As the third fades away, the flames become an eerie, lambent green.
Cole moves back to the lower portion of the moon. His eyes widen at the sounds Trevor produces, and even more so when the flames start to burn green. Now that's not a shade of fire he's likely to have seen before!
"Megan-Rhya, Firewatcher, Righ of the Fianna of the Sept of the Hidden Walk." Trevor turns his attention to the Elder as he places the dagger and bowl back down, the green fire continuing to burn. "This Cub comes before you to receive the Tests of Adulthood, that he might take his place among our Family. Are you willing to accept him, and give him these Tests?"
There is a twitch of something in Megan's woad obscured features, a grimace that's hard to see with an expression made so alien. But then she shifts to Glabro, and answers in the Garou tongue, ~I, Firewatcher, Keeper of the Ways and alpha of the Fianna tribe, recognize that this cub is ready to be tested.~
Cole swallows heavily, merely watching on, at this point. His arms are clasped behind his back as he waits.
"Spirits!" Trevor calls once more. "Hear this, and bear witness to it. The Cub has announced his intent to be Tested, and the Elder has announced her acceptance of him and willingness to Test him." There's a pause, before he raises the burning bowl high. "The sun is newly risen. I call for the first test!"
Megan turns to face Cole across the inscribed glyph of the gibbous moon, and they both might notice something akin to a smile tugging up one corner of her mouth, twisting the whorls of blue into odd shapes. ~From this point on, "Brian Cole" of the Fianna, you are not child, but not an adult, caught in the in between stage. You lose the protection of cubhood without the benefits of an adult, a dangerous place and time to be. Your Rite will continue until I say it is done. For this time forward, you may not talk of the terms of your tests with any by the adult Fianna--not to the other cubs, not to the other tribes, and not to your friends. Your first test is to find ways to purposefully aid, with whatever means you may find through wisdom and in the ways of a galliard, through whatever ways you determine, members of these tribes: the Silver Fangs, the leading tribe of our people; the Bone Gnawers, the lowest of our people,~ there is a significant pause here as she studies the teen, ~and the Get of Fenris, the natural enemy of our tribe. There will be other tests, which will be revealed to you over time. Do you have any questions about these terms, so I am sure you understand them?~
Cole's face slowly grows pale. He'd been told to expect something like this particular test before, but hearing it is completely different. He only shows real distaste, though, at hearing that he has to help the Get of Fenris. "Only one question, Megan-Rhya. May I speak to my elders among the Fianna about how to come in contact with these tribes that I need to help. Or is part of the test searching them out on my own?"
~By whatever means you may find through wisdom and in the ways of a galliard,~ Megan repeats, which seems to be as much of an answer as she's going to give.
Cole nods, letting out a long breath. "Thank you, Megan-Rhya. Thank you, Trevor-Rhya. I understand the terms as you've spoken them, and I will do you both proud." There's at least a bit of confidence in his voice, which could be taken as either a plus or a negative.
"It has begun." Trevor very slowly lowers the bowl, signifying the end of this part.
Megan nods her head, then breaks into a feral looking smile which becomes less so as she shifts back down into Homid. "All up to you now, Cole. You're free to go off and begin anytime."
Cole rakes a hand back through his hair and smiles. He nods. "Alright. I've got to think a little while before I start." He looks down at the preparations once more, then moves to grab his clothing. "One last thing. I assume I'm allowed to leave the farmhouse, now?" He changes back into his normal clothing as he speaks.
Megan gives Trevor a measured glance, but then says, "Yes. Since you're preparing to act like an adult, you're expected to handle yourself as an adult might." The quirk of a smile this time is a bit frightening behind the blue. "Which means if you break the Litany, you'll be tried as an adult, too. But, I'm sure you'll do fine," she says in wry cheerfulness which may not reassure.
Cole rubs his cheek, where a ghost of a bruise from the 'lesson' of the other day remains. "I have absolutely no wish to see what an adult trial for breaking the Litany is like, Megan-Rhya," he assures in a sincere tone, laced with his usual good cheer. He makes ready to go.
Megan blinks innocently with no verbal response to Cole's comment, making no effort to stop him from doing so.

#20: Riting can be such a bitch

Sat, 03 Jun 2006 20:54:34 GMT

Suggested Listening: NH Gents' And So it Goes

Farmhouse: Hallway and Living Room
All doorways in the front part of the house lead to the front hallway, a J-shaped area with the short tail starting at the stairs, the front door hitting the bottom curve, the doorless opening to the living room halfway up the long side, and the also doorless opening to the kitchen and dining room at the very top. The hall has a simple wooden floor, and decorated with a generic print of soft-colored flowers hanging on the wall to the right of the front door, and a tall table sitting under the print which serves as a place to toss keys. A closet under the stairs serves as a place to hang coats or to toss shoes.
The doorless opening to the living room is halfway up the side of the hall's J, and the word cozy might spring to mind when looking into is, as it seems to radiate comforting vibrations. A long couch sits against the south wall beneath a large bay window curtained only by sheers that manages to obscure the view in but only filters the day's light. A variety of out-of-date magazines are strewn atop a low coffee table; more neatly presented are the plethora of books filling the small bookshelves which line the eastern wall. Three chairs sit about the room, focused inward, to allow group conversations. Large floor pillows are stacked in one corner of the room, except one, which lies carelessly in the middle of the floor, apparently left out the last time it was used.
An opening in the northern end of the hallway allows access to the kitchen and dining room at the back of the house, while carpeted stairs twist up at the other end of the hall, leading to the second floor. A door at the base of the J lets out to the front porch.

Taslyn is pushed back on the couch, legs propped up on the edge and reading a book. She looks a little worse for wear and possibly tired. She flips through the pages and then closes the book, resting it on her stomach and taking in a deep breath.
Cole comes in from the porch, looking as if he just got through with doing his daily chores, by the amount of dust and dirt on him. Or maybe he hasn't taken a shower, yet. He spots Taslyn on the couch and smiles. "Hey, Taslyn," he says.
Taslyn gives a hint of a smile and swings around on the couch. "Hey Cole. How's it going?" As she places the book to her side. "Things going well for you?"
Cole nods, coming to slump in one of the more comfortable chairs. "Pretty well, yeah. Getting ready for my Rite, learning last minute details. Still doing chores, though," he says, smirking wryly. "Um...how about you, though? Last time I saw you wasn't exactly, uh, happy."
Taslyn lets out a stiffed laugh. "Well, still not exactly happy... But so is life." She changes the subject. "Looking forward to your rite?"
Cole lets out a nervous laugh. "Oh, yeah. Like a train wreck. It's pretty important. You know how you want something to happen, but at the same time, you don't?"
Taslyn nods. "Yeah. I never knew my rite was coming. They kinda ambushed me with it." She chuckles. "Come a long way since then."
Cole cocks his head to the side. "Oh? How'd the do that?" He leans back on the chair, making himself comfortable.
Taslyn runs a hand through her hair. "You don't want to know about that." She gives a hint of a smile that might say she'd rather not talk about it. "What sort of thing do you think your rite will be?"
Cole clears his throat awkwardly. "Well, Megan said that it would probably test me on Glory, Honor and Wisdom. And she mentioned I'd probably be working closely with the other tribes, aside from the Fianna." He doesn't look particularly pleased by that.
Taslyn nods. "You will do fine. Trevor speaks great things of you. Not particularly pleased that you decided to pack with Todd, myself, though." She looks at the cub for a moment. "I don't see him as an honorable or trustworthy." She takes a deep breath, "But I am sure that you will do well."
Cole actually reddens a bit at the praise. "He hasn't shown that side to me, yet. I'm going to trust him until he proves he's not worth it." He ventures a smile. "Thanks, Tas."
Taslyn nods her head. "Take an opinion though. Trust in yourself and believe that you can accomplish something." She gives the cub a smile. "Believe in yourself... If one falls, keep fighting." She gives a wink. "But you know that already."
Cole grins at that. "I'll keep that in mind. Thank you." He brushes a bit of shaggy hair aside. "Well, I should probably get a shower in before all the hot water's gone for the day."
Taslyn nods. "Yeah. You should." As she looks the cub over. "Just be positive Cole... And you can do anything." She smiles and nods. "Run on."
Cole stands up. "I'll take your advice to heart," he says, giving an impish grin. Then, he barrels on up the stairs, rattling the floorboards. He apparently did take it to heart.
Taslyn smiles sadly and watches the boy. She takes a deep breath and sighs, burying her face into her hands.

#19: I see dead people!

Sat, 03 Jun 2006 20:47:23 GMT

Suggested Listening: Gavin DeGraw's Belief

Farmhouse: Hallway and Living Room
All doorways in the front part of the house lead to the front hallway, a J-shaped area with the short tail starting at the stairs, the front door hitting the bottom curve, the doorless opening to the living room halfway up the long side, and the also doorless opening to the kitchen and dining room at the very top. The hall has a simple wooden floor, and decorated with a generic print of soft-colored flowers hanging on the wall to the right of the front door, and a tall table sitting under the print which serves as a place to toss keys. A closet under the stairs serves as a place to hang coats or to toss shoes.
The doorless opening to the living room is halfway up the side of the hall's J, and the word cozy might spring to mind when looking into is, as it seems to radiate comforting vibrations. A long couch sits against the south wall beneath a large bay window curtained only by sheers that manages to obscure the view in but only filters the day's light. A variety of out-of-date magazines are strewn atop a low coffee table; more neatly presented are the plethora of books filling the small bookshelves which line the eastern wall. Three chairs sit about the room, focused inward, to allow group conversations. Large floor pillows are stacked in one corner of the room, except one, which lies carelessly in the middle of the floor, apparently left out the last time it was used.
An opening in the northern end of the hallway allows access to the kitchen and dining room at the back of the house, while carpeted stairs twist up at the other end of the hall, leading to the second floor. A door at the base of the J lets out to the front porch.

Currently the moon is in the waning Gibbous Moon phase (67% full).
Trevor is sitting in the lounge, reading a book. It's a relatively nice day, and the Galliard is relaxing somewhat in between his various duties. His mind, however, is clearly elsewhere.
Cole comes out of the kitchen area, a can of soda in one hand, a plate with a sandwich in the other. He grins when he spots his mentor, but doesn't do anything to disturb him, just yet. That might come later, though.
If Trevor is aware of Cole's entrance, he doesn’t show it. The Galliard is clearly not reading the book that's open in his lap, anymore. He's not even there.
Cole's grin melts away, replaced by a puzzled look. He's seen people space out before, obviously, but this seems a little too...outer spacey, for lack of a better term. He clears his throat, quietly, not wanting to be too disruptive, in case it's a bad thing.
"Hmmm?" Trevor looks up, returning to the real world. "Ah, Cole! How are you today?" He smiles, before intoning with a perfectly straight face "Soon, your Rite of Passage will be. Complete, your education is not. Today, Ancestors will your lesson be."
Cole swallows, glad that his mentor now seems to be back. "Alright, Trevor-Rhya. Or Yoda, as the case may be." He sets his lunch down, forgotten, on an end table.
"Well, I have to show I'm not totally out of touch now and again." Trevor chuckles, remembering the X-Men incident. "What have you heard, if anything, about our connection with out Ancestors?"
Cole grins. "Mission accomplished. You're totally with it. Ancestors? Um, well, it would sort of be hard to be around today, if we didn't have any. But I'm guessing that's not at all what you're getting at."
"No, it's not." Trevor smiles somewhat. "You are aware of Spirits. But did you know that the most powerful of our Ancestors, the most revered among us, linger on after their deaths as spirits. Their wisdom can be called upon by Garou of their line, sometimes." The Galliards expression says that's not all, either.
Cole leans forward, an expectant grin on his face. His eyes glitter with interest. "Really? That's just...well, that's just cool. You can commune with dead Garou?"
"Well, yes and no." Trevor replies, before continuing. "But some Ancestor spirits choose to take up residence in actual living Garou. Sharing a body like that has a lot of benefits, for all the headaches it can cause."
Cole's expression screws up. "Is that anything like being possessed? Like a Fomor?"
"No." Trevor shakes his head emphatically, seeming horrified by the comparison. "It's like having roommates, almost."
Cole didn't seem too keen on the idea himself. "Just inside your body? Well, what does it do? I mean, I assume they can share little tidbits of info. Sorta like you do for me."
"Yeah. And they've seen and know a lot more than you have." Trevor seems to think it's a real blessing. "And sometimes it's a good idea to let them borrow the body for a little."
Cole raises a brow, skeptical. "Borrow the body," he repeats in a cautious tone. "Like how they say ghosts stick around because they have unfinished business. Do Ancestors have things that need doing?"
"No, not usually." Trevor shakes his head. "Bare in mind things have often changed a lot since their day. Everyone they knew is dead. They stick around because they're great, and revered, and we sure as hell need their help."
Cole nods, looking thoughtful. "How do they help, then," he asks, simply.
"Well, they might have skills you don't. Or know things you don't." Trevor begins simply. "Sometimes they'll be a different Auspice, too."
Cole grins. "You mean, I might have a Theurge Ancestor, who I could ask to help me when it comes to dealing with the spirits?"
"Exactly." Trevor nods, with a pleased smile as the cub begins to understand.
Cole leans back, thinking about that. "That's just awesome. Can any Garou do this, or do you have to be special?"
"Well, they have to be your Ancestors." Trevor points out. "And not just anybody becomes an Ancestor Spirit. And it's a two way thing. It's like good breeding, I guess. You either have it, or you don't."
Cole scratches as his chin, and at last notices the stubble beginning to make a home there. He's much more interested in the lesson, however. "Is there a test, or something? A way to tell? From what you said, it sounds like it'd kick ass. Though...you mentioned headaches?"
"No test." Trevor shakes his head. "They'll let you know when they're ready. They're remarkably good at that." The Galliard smiles. "Not literally. But occasionally they can be a little bit of a pain, just like roommates."
Cole looks down at his lunch, and picks it up. "Hey, as long as they don't drink my milk without buying a replacement," he quips, taking a bite. "Was that what you were just doing, Trevor? Talking...or, whatever you were doing?"
"No." Trevor shakes his head, voice soft. "I was spending some time at home." Not literally, obviously, since he's here and not in Britain.
Cole watches Trevor's face for a moment, then goes back to his drink. "Do you mind if I ask what you mean, Trevor-Rhya," he says in a quiet voice.
"Sure." Trevor leans back in his chair. "We can't exactly take holidays, or go home to visit our parents. But I've got a good imagination, and my memories." For a moment, he seems much older than his 26 years.
Cole goes quiet, pondering that. "I hadn't thought of it that way. I thought, way back on the first night they dragged me to the Grotto, that I'd do whatever they wanted of me, then get home. Don't think it's going to happen that way, now. Seems like all of us have a lifelong job." He, too, gains a small measure of maturity when he talks about his fate. He looks up. "Was it a good visit?"
"Yeah, we're in this one for life. There's no going back." Trevor smiles somewhat at the question. "Yes, it was, mum was baking."
Cole smiles. "Good times, then." He looks in the direction of the porch. "I think I'm going to go eat lunch out in the sun. You can come along, if you want, or you can go back and try to snag some cookies?"
"I'll join you, I think." Trevor shakes his head to clear it. "I've got the next generation to worry about now, no point trying to cling on to childhood."
Cole brushes a hand back through his tousled hair. "Yeah, but unless you're wading through Wyrm guts in the next five minutes, find your happiness where you can get it," he advises, a little pearl of wisdom he may or may not have picked up from a comic book.
"True." Trevor smiles somewhat at the comment, though he has no idea where it comes from. "But sometimes it's better to be able to make happiness where you are. And I think a patch of sun and good company sounds pretty close."
Cole pushes himself up, lunch in hand. "Now you're talking like a Fianna," he teases. He uses his hip to open the door to the front. "After you."
"Thanks." Trevor heads outside, pausing to comment. "Talking like a Fianna? Did you hear my mention alcohol?" He laughs.
Cole laughs, as well. "No, but the day's still young," he retorts, stepping through.

#18: In the wolfhouse

Sat, 03 Jun 2006 20:33:36 GMT

Suggested Listening: Boondock Saints theme, Boondock Saints OST

Porch
A lathe-turned wooden railing runs the length of the porch save where the steps are, well-worn with use. To the right of the stairs, a wide swing is suspended from the overhang which shelters this area; to the left, a small table is the centerpiece for several chairs pulled around it, all of which face out to the front yard and the fields and trees beyond. The entire area holds an atmosphere of peace and comfort during these summer days, lending itself well to evening reading, small talk, or just watching the stars. Low shrubs snuggle up to the porch held back by the railing, their flowers filling the air with the sweet scent of greenery.
An aging screen door newly refurbished stands between the heavy inner door of the house and the outside air. Four steps lead down to the lane, a number of pots with small flower seedling carefully arranged alongside them.

Megan is seated on the porch swing, apparently enjoying the luxury of an odd moment of downtime with a lemonade in one hand and a mass market paperback book, _Storm Front_, in the other. She snorts with amusement as she reads.
Trevor walks up onto the porch, having just arrived from wherever it is Galliard's go. The man bows his head when he notices the occupant of the swing. "Megan-Rhya."
Cole appears at one end of the porch, having just come around the corner of the house. He's got dirt on his shirt and the knees of his jeans, and a smear of it across one cheekbone. "Fianna party and I wasn't invited?"
Megan glances up from her book, then waves it and the hand holding it vaguely at Trevor in greeting, tipping a wry smile at Cole at his question. "Fianna *are* a party when there are three in the same room. No invites needed. How're you two doing?" she asks the two galliards.
"I'm doing well thank you, Megan-Rhya." Trevor replies, nodding a greeting to Cole. "Yourself? I hope you are well."
Cole gives a hybrid of a smirk and a grin. A girk? "Well, getting a little antsy, but hey, had fun with everyone's favorite Aryan barbarians the other night. Hey, Trevor-Rhya."
"As well as can be expected under this moon," is Megan's slightly clipped response to Trevor, although there is a tight smile on her face. Cole's comment grabs her attention. "You got into it with the Get of Fenris?" she asks, with obvious curiously.
"Indeed." Trevor nods, returning the smile before he took looks to Cole. "Aryan.../Oh/, the Get."
Cole shakes his head at seeing Megan's expression. "Not like that. Dillen and I got bored, and some Get named Erika invited us and Emma on a deer hunt to get the edge off." A flicker of pride on his face. "And it was pretty successful, after all."
Megan flicks a glance over at Trevor, and the perceptive might notice that there's annoyance in her expression. "Did any of you think that it might be polite for the Get of Fenris to ask permission to take a Fianna cub off and do something?" she asks, attempting some level of composure, but her syllables become even more clipped now.
Trevor's gaze meets Megan's, his own expression carefully guarded. "I am not familiar with this Erika." The Galliard admits, looking towards Cole for a moment. "But certainly there are...rules governing such interactions."
Cole's smile dies out by degrees. "Uh...I don't really know. They offered, I accepted. I didn't think it would be that big a deal..." He trails off, lamely.
Megan sighs, setting her book aside. "I had *thought* I'd told you and Aidan...but no one outside of the tribe is allowed to teach you without permission. That includes dragging you off for hunts, out to the city...all that. I'm especially upset," she goes on, letting that anger color her expression, "that they chose to do this hunting down the earthly incarnation of our tribal totem."
"And it is clear, since neither Megan-Rhya or I had given permission, this Erika did not have the right to teach you." Trevor clearly isn't pleased either, but his feelings are more guarded than the Alpha's. "It is a general rule that out of respect for our Father we do not hunt deer, except in special circumstances."
Megan gives Trevor an odd look, but adds to his words, "Or, at least not without the proper respect given. Respect I doubt the *Get* made," she spits.
Cole grimaces. "Well, they weren't really teaching me anything I didn't already know. And..hey, um, thinking. Not the Get's strong point, huh? Heh. Um." He rubs the back of his neck with his hands. "They only invited, Megan-Rhya, Trevor-Rhya. I accepted. I should thought more about it." At the last, he looks up. "Well, they did howl out a successful hunt and a call to the deer's spirit," he amends.
Megan, just for a moment, looks mollified, but then pulls together her irritation once more. "Just, don't do it again," she mutters darkly. "Erika's already in enough shit as it is."
Trevor looks over to Megan, pausing for a moment before asking "Would you like me to officially express our displeasure, Megan-Rhya, or is it something that you would rather do?"
Cole nods, looking glad to get away with such a minimal amount of fuss. "Yeah, sure thing, Megan-Rhya. I really wouldn't have done it if I thought it would be that bad. I'm sure the Get didn't think about it being against the rules. Hey, from them, it was probably the polite thing to do," he suggests, weakly.
The afternoon calm that's settled over the long stretch of country road is shattered by the growling of a bike engine. Layne pulls up the driveway moments later, dismounting and securing her motorcycle, before she takes the front steps and finds Megan. "Hey. Got your message," the younger half-moon says on an exhale, brows raised curiously. Trevor and Cole both get fingers waggled at them.
Megan arches an eyebrow in response to Cole, conveying her continued displeasure, but at Layne's arrival, she smiles thinly. She turns to Trevor, nods, and says, "Yeah, why don't you do that. Erika and I have already butted heads, and I'm sure she's going to start hating me even more soon." And with that lovely comment, she turns to Layne, and nods greeting to her, again that small, tight smile. "Hey, thanks for coming out. I know you're probably busy, but...you're about it anymore. I need you to look into something for me, as a Judge."
Trevor nods a greeting to Layne with a small smile, before turning back to Megan. "I will seek her out and do so then, Megan-Rhya."
Judges and Singers abound, and here comes someone to break the pattern. Raul, Theurge extraordinaire, comes tramping up the path towards the farmhouse, easily visible and audible, since he's whistling cheerful (and somewhat obscure) tunes.
Cole goes nicely quiet at that, looking to Layne and giving a weak grin. "Hey."
Layne shrugs unevenly at Megan's words, noting the obvious tension in her demeanor. "S'my job." Curiosity grows. She moves to lean against the railing and wonders, "What's goin' on, exactly?" Eyes snap toward Raul for a brief moment, then find their way back to Megan.
Megan, on the other hand, looks over at Raul with no recognition, clamming up. "Hello," she calls out, "can we help you?"
Trevor looks over to see who it is, before murmuring to Megan "That is Raul, the Gnawer. You remember I mentioned him?"
"Don' mind me ladies, jus' passin' through," Raul remarks in the direction of the crowd as he plods closer, winking at Trevor without qualifying 'and gentlemen'. "M'jus' gonna borrow th' cooker."
Megan ahhs softly at Trevor's undertone information, t hen raises a meaningful eyebrow at him for Raul's comment, relaxing just a bare fraction, she turns back to Layne. "Did you read in the papers, several weeks ago, about some 'werewolves' being spotted in the park, followed about a week later by another report that turned out that the 'werewolves' were a couple of kids dressed up in costumes?"
Layne gives Raul the same finger-waggling treatment, then returns attention to Megan. She smirks, dryly. "Yeah. Amusing. Something more come of it?"
Trevor nods almost imperceptibly to Megan's raised eyebrow, before commenting to the Gnawer "Sure thing Raul, just go easy on the fridge."
"Brought m'own," Raul quips absently to Trevor, stepping into the farmhouse. It's not long before the smell of fresh meat cooking wafts out, along with the occasional sizzling sound.
"Somewhat," Megan says, with a sigh. "Owen and Erika were there for both incidents. Reggie was there for the second one. In addition to the two boys who were found hurt, there were two others there as well. One had a camera, that Reggie managed to get away from him, before he got away from us. The fourth boy we've identified as a man named Bach. All of them are associated with the Beta Alpha Tau fraternity at SCCU." She puts aside the lemonade, to have both hands free now. "But, that's just background. The important bits are that Erika was in Glabro for that second incident. And Reggie, who looked at the tape, says he could see her shifting on it. Not *clearly*, but..." She trails off, letting people draw their own conclusions.
Layne's curious expression fades away, a sneer replacing the smirk on her lips. "The tape...has it been destroyed, yet? If not, I wanna see it. Where's Erika now?" She sighs the sigh of someone who is indeed very busy, rather stressed, even--but determined.
Trevor falls silent, listening to the two Philodox talk.
"I don't know, to both questions," Megan says tersely. "Reggie didn't mention whether or not he destroyed it. And Erika is probably either with Jamethon, with Owen, or somewhere in the city," she says, expression darkening. "Although, I'd asked her to stay close to the Bawn, while we still were investigating how much those boys saw. Her explanation for why she went into Glabro was...not without merit, but given the situation, ill-advised," she says, choosing her words carefully but clearly upset anyway. "I'd originally asked Owen to head this up, since he's a Fostern and he was *there*, and I thought he should cover up his own mess, his and Erika's. I had Natalie and the Glass Walkers doing as much investigating as they could into the boys and working with Owen on it. I've told Natalie this new information, and also that I'd be asking you to take it over, as I feel its moved into possible Litany violations." She sighs at the end, exasperated.
Layne taps fingers tensely against the rough wood of the railing. "Erika is Cliath, now. She can clean up her own mess. I would like to know what Owen saw, but finding the tape--if it still exists--is at the top of my list."
Some minutes after going in, Raul comes back out. With him are two large bowls - in one is what must be two packs of pork sausages, cooked and covered with ketchup. In the other is some finely minced....lamb, by the looks of things, out to cool. He plops himself down on the porch swing and begins eating a sausage with his fingers, offering the bowl up to those gathered here.
Megan nods curtly in agreement with Layne's first comment, but then offers, "Owen was *there*, with her, and as Fostern, I hold him somewhat responsible for his tribemate's behavior. Especially since, y'know," she says, some of the anger bleeding into her tone in the form of bitter sarcasm, "these boys *saw* them just the week before, and as I had to point *out* to her, they might kind of wonder what the hell these two people were doing to just *happen* to be in the middle of a National Park where they were and just *happen* to accost them, even though one of the humans had a gun." She glances to Layne, smile derisive. "The reason for why Erika shifted to Glabro, by the way."
Cole looks back up, listening to the going's on.
"Was it loaded with silver rounds? No? Didn't think so," Layne snorts. "Never mind." She shakes her head. "Sounds like a stupid mistake, the kind you only make once--if you're smart. Like locking the keys in the car." She shrugs. "From what you've said, I'm inclined to say 'charge Owen with finding an appropriate punishment for her'... But I'll question everyone, first."
"Owen's not a Philodox," Megan states the obvious. But then lets out a long breath of relief through pursed lips. "If you need me to run one of the punishment rites, or just want advice or something, you know how to find me. And, feel free to pass this information around," Megan says, including the two galliards and the Bone Gnawer in a glance around, finally giving a tiny quirk of her lips in a tiny smile. "Since that's the whole purpose of Resonance."
Raul, his offer of sausages untaken, contents himself with eating them. All.
Cole glances at Raul and his sausages for a moment, but contents himself with settling onto a rail, feet dangling a bit above the ground. He gives a wordless nod to Megan.
Layne chuckles, flatly, brushing hair from her eyes with taut fingers. "No, he isn't. I imagine having to find an -acceptable- punishment for his tribemate would be a chore. But I'm getting ahead of myself." Finally, she says to Megan about the rites, "Thanks. I may need one of those." Raul's sausages get an appreciative and even hungry look, but she declines the offer.
Raul finishes his sausages, leaving the finely-minced lamb to one side to let it cool a little more. "Any'un goin' down inta down 'n can offer a lift?" he asks openly of those still here.
Megan shakes her head at Raul, expression flat, but not unfriendly. "Sorry, I'm out here for the duration of the full moon." And from the edginess coming off her, it's not a bad idea. She looks back at Layne and gives her a tight smile. "At your disposal." She sighs, and picks up her lemonade. "Everything else going okay, then? How's the challenge going?"
Raul has disconnected.
Layne cocks her head at the Gnawer. "Sure, if you can wait a while. Need to visit the caern briefly before I head back." Gaze returning to Megan, she explains. "It's just begun. Jarred delivered the terms a few days ago. So far, so good. Must meet with Jacinta, soon." She eyes the elder Philodox wearily. "Anything else exciting happening with you?"
Megan raises an eyebrow, a flicker of anger going through her expression, but then shrugs her right shoulder stiffly. "Other than that, and finding out that the Get of Fenris took Cole out for a joyride in the forest without bothering to ask us, first, not much, really. Alicia's recovering from her injuries during the Great Hunt, and the baby seems fine. I'm teaching Eamon a gift right now, kind of slow going. And we may be adding a new member to the pack, but it's not certain yet so I don't want to say too much about it."
Cole gives a hint of a wince, leaning back against the support beam. He remains quiet, looking out, towards the woods.
"Which? Erika?" Layne glances between cub and elder. "When's Alicia due?"
Megan nods once. "Erika. And Emma," Megan provides, giving a quirked eyebrow and a glance to Cole, catching his wince, then back to the other Philodox. "She thinks she's due like end of September sometime. Maybe beginning of October. And she got pretty beat up."
"There are matters I must attend to." Trevor says suddenly, coming out of his thoughts. "Megan-Rhya, Layne, Cole, Raul." And with a nod to each, the Galliard is gone.
Cole nods back toward Trevor as he leaves, then shrugs. "I'm gonna go upstairs and write, or something. Night, everyone." He lifts a hand in a wave to all in general, and hops to his feet.
Layne simply nods to Megan, looking preoccupied with some other thought.
Layne also cants her head toward her tribemates as they depart.
Cole disappears into the farmhouse.

#17: Oh deer!

Sun, 28 May 2006 02:36:14 GMT

Suggested Listening: Metallica's Of Wolf and Man

((This scene starts in the farmhouse living room))
Currently the moon is in the waxing Full Moon phase (81% full).

Dillen looks up to the sky. "Makes me a little antsy if you want the truth." He gives a hint of a shiver. "Still beautiful though."
Cole makes his presence known by tromping down the stairs from the attic, making his way toward the porch. He's obviously been 'gotten to' by the moon, a sort of buzzing feeling to the air around him.
Emma nods to the cub. "Yah. Does all of us, to some extent. Me..." she pauses, "I feel like I'm burning up. I snap on you, I want you to just run. Run, and tell someone, or a lot of someones." She glances at the other then. "Got it?"
Dillen thrusts his hands into his pockets, "Sure. Yeah."
Cole steps out, through the door. "Gotcha," he mumbles. He nods toward his fellow cub. "Hey, Dillen."
Emma looks up and back at the other cub then. She takes a deep breath and stares out over the lane again. "I wish there was something to fucking kill."
Emma grunts, "I don't mean prey animals Dillen. I mean I want to fucking kill some Wyrm foe." She huffs, lips tightening together. "Maybe we should go for a hunt... I guess something is better than nothing." The Ahroun looks extra ornery tonight.
Dillen looks over at Emma. "I hear ya." He grins and flops down on the steps of the porch.
Cole leans against the door frame, a thoughtful look on his face, his grey eyes shadowed by his bangs. The Fianna cub's getting shaggy, by now. "God -I mean, Gaia, A deer, a woodchuck, anything. Though if there are any more coyote fomori..." He lets the thought trail off.
Emma stands up, her voice barking out in a commanding tone. "Let's go. Enough of this fuckin' sitting around." Her hands fist up as she starts down the steps of the porch.
Dillen raises a brow. "Go where?" As he looks up at Emma and leans back against the steps.
The loud, noisy engine of a dirt bike comes tearing up the driveway. Erika stops and pulls off her helmet as she sees the three coming down the porch stairs. "Hey," she says.
Cole looks up as a bike pulls up, from where he leans. "Hey," he answers, simply. He privately wonders if he's the only non-Get in the area tonight. A twitch runs through him.
Dillen looks up. "Can we kick your ass, Erika-Rhya?" He gives a sly grin. "All of us are wanting to fight somthin."
Emma gives a faint nod of greeting to the other Get. She stops at the bottom of the staircase. "We're going to the forest. We're gonna get into lupus, and we are gonna go kill a fucking bear or something."
"No," she replies in a dry tone back to Dillen. "... but I'd kick yours if you ever ask me that again." Then she looks across to Emma. "A bear? Hmm, any blessing for Gaia out of it, any reason at all why you would go out and kill something, other than to release some of your rage?" she asks.
Dillen sighs deeply and shakes his head. "can nobody around here take a frickin joke?"
Cole gives a dry snort. "Damn, I knew it sounded too good to be true." He slides to his rump, resting his crossed arms on his knees.
Emma sighs at Erika, "Better to kill something that is going to put up a fight, than end up culling one of the cubs for making bad jokes under fat moons. I can't take my rage out on what I want to... so unless you have a better suggestion, I'd like to fight something with claws, that I won't get in trouble for killing."
"Never." Erika replies to Dillen with the same dry tone. She looks towards the two cubs, before looking towards Emma. "Alright," she replies. "I caught up with a herd of deer a few miles past the border of my pack's territory not more than six hours ago. If we're quick, we might be able to take down one of them from the herd."
Dillen still sulks on the steps. He grumbles until Erika says that about the deer. "Really?" As his eyes and ears perk up.
Cole looks up, a half-grin already forming. "Venison, and a chance to do something? Oh, thank Gaia."
Emma sighs, "Don't want to kill a fucking pansy ass deer."
Erika turns to Emma, glaring. "I didn't ask you to come along." she replies. "Besides, going to the city to kill of something... wouldn't seek the approval of the elders." She looks towards Cole, "... especially his." She hops off her bike and begins walking towards the Barnyard. "Follow me if you wish to come," she calls over her shoulder.
Emma growls, looking about ready to just take her frustration out on her fellow Get. "Don't start with me Erika." She looks torn on whether or not to follow, "Where the fuck are you going anyway?"
Cole looks between Erika and Emma, and shrugs. "Got nothing better to do," he murmurs, standing up. He's conscious of the situation enough to hop over the rail rather than try to brush past Emma.
"Ladies, remember. The moon?" Dillen says quietly, trying to calm the others.
"South," Erika replies. "... and no, I am not starting anything at all. In fact, when we reach the territory where I picked up the scent this afternoon, I will let /you/ lead." she says to Emma. Then, she begins trotting towards the woods.

WWNP: North Forest
Carefully watched by the National Park Service, Wolf Woods is largely free of human influence despite the number of tourists it draws in each year. A few service roads and hiking trails criss-cross the low hills, through the thin underbrush. The trees are evergreens for the most part, though there are enclaves of oaks here and there. Here and there, trees are marked with small metal plaques - red near the north border of the park, and green further south - to tell humans what wolf pack's territory they are passing through.
This region extends about five miles south from the northern edge of the park, from the Lake Arthur annex and the edge of the old park in the west to the mountains in the east.

Judges-Souls leads the three others to the area where she had picked up the scent before, then she turns to her female tribemate. All yours, she chuffs as she steps back to follow the Ahroun's lead.
Judges-Souls watches the two cubs, then lightly nudges to Restless. Alright, she replies. You two are going to find the trail. Her ears perk forward as she listens to sounds around her. And then we are going to follow it.
Restless steps up and lifts his nose to the air. He takes in a deep sniff and then nods his head. That way? Almost questioning Erika.
Duck-To-Water lifts his head, scenting the night air. He chuffs, a soft sound of acceptance.
As the group of wolves make their way through the forests of WWNP, using keen sense of smell and sharp hearing, the animal trails aren't hard to locate. It's trying to remain quiet so as not to give oneself away that's difficult. One well worn path, near invisible to the inexperienced, but easily scented out by the wolf's nose, can be followed along, leading into a natural break in the treeline. Long summer grasses grow up in the small meadow, and for now, a very small herd of deer graze at a far end of it.
Judges-Souls nods her head, giving a short chuff before she begins to follow the trail. She follows it up wind of the herd of deer, showing the cubs how it is done by using all of one's senses. You, she gestures to Restless, to the right. And you, to Duck-To-Water, to the left. I will go center and flush them out. Try to find prey that is easy to kill.
Restless perks his ears up and looks out over the clearing. He sniffs the air again and crouches down low. His eyes look over to Erika for a moment, checking how she is postured and everything she seems to be doing. His tongue lolls a bit, excitement in his eyes. He nods his head to Erika's words and slowly begins to move to the right side of the group, being careful to make no noise or too much movement. He slowly begins to circle around the side and waits for Judges to strike.
Duck-To-Water doesn't waste time with a reply, instead using all of his (somewhat meager) skills at moving as he was shown, heading off toward the left of the herd. Now it's a matter of waiting until the herd is spooked into acting rashly.
The deer total about seven in all, each one of them a doe. Though most are of their average ages, there looks to be one dominant female as well, and she is busy grazing. One of the younger doe lifts her head as that ever paranoid sense causes her to look, and listen, around.
Judges-Souls stalks closer to the herd slowly once the two are in position. She is nearly down on her belly as she crawls towards them slowly, not making any sound at first. Then, as she gets close to the break in the treeline, she begins moving swiftly towards them. From her throat erupts a deep growl, as she begins to rush in their direction, hopefully chasing them towards the waiting males on either side of her.
Restless crouches and goes as still as he can. His breath is a little faster, excitement and all making him breath heavy. His eyes scan the group of deer, looking for the infirm or weak. Once he sees Judges move, he stays still for a bit longer, watching and picking his prey as they come closer.
Duck-To-Water hunkers down, muscles tensing up as he prepares himself for any movement he might have to make. He practically vibrates with contained energy and violence, eager for this.
The growl from Judges-Souls is enough to spook the young doe, and consequently, the rest of the herd. They all take off with heavy snorts and grunting calls of warning, breaking off in the away direction from the growl's origin, as predicted. What isn't predicted is the somewhat chaotic scattering that occurs, as each doe takes off at full flight, some in a high leaping run, others with swift, stiff-legged trots. The eldest dominant doe is just slightly slow to react, but her gait is full of vibrant health. It is she who bears down in the direction of Duck-to-Water, literally looking like she's going to end up hopping on him.
Duck-To-Water reacts, rage and adrenaline burning through him and causing him to react with increased speed. He scoots out of the way of the doe, and attempts to bite at her hindquarters, as he's been taught to do when harrying prey. Here!
Restless raises his head as they begin to run towards the other cub. He takes off in a gallop after the eldest that heads towards Cole. At least if he doesn't get her, he can keep her from barreling down another. He aims for her side, coming up in a circular motion to come up beside her and then to hopefully pounce.
Judges-Souls flickers her ears as the confusion blurs past her. Suddenly, she notices as the two cubs take after the biggest doe and she is suddenly on her feet to catch up with them to bring down the large doe. She is swift on her feet as she carries herself headlong towards the side of the doe.
The doe is fast for such a comparatively large animal. Each step, each leap is made with surprisingly precise movement. It can't however, compete with rage. As Duck-to-Water scoots and leaps for the bite, his teeth make a gash into the deer's flank, not deep, but enough to spook the doe. She lashes out in turn with both legs, one hoof catching the galliard cub's shoulder. Restless pounces but somehow this doe's move to kick Cole takes her body momentarily out of reach. Judges-Souls is but a few leaps and bounds away herself, even though the action is moving away from her as well. The other deer have escaped into the brush, and it looks like it would be more effort to try and chase them down.
Restless feels his paws go back into the ground and he continues to run at the deer, now trying to leap and sink his teeth into the flesh of her neck. His body trying to push her against the others, maybe giving them a chance as well.
Duck-To-Water gets, to put it plainly, angry at getting caught by the doe's hoof. He lets out a snarl and plows forward. If he can only cause a wound which might bleed it into weakness... He snaps at the hind legs of the creature, trying to do some damage to its mobility.
Judges-Souls gains up on speed as she makes for another round at the deer that is being specifically chased. As she runs, she blurs into Hispo before she gives a snap of her muzzle towards the doe.
Again the doe seems heavily experienced in the ways of the hunted, avoiding the jaws of Duck-to-Water with an almost unnatural ease. Restless succeeds in driving her, but at the very moment the doe claps eyes on Judges-Souls in Hispo, full fledged surprise causes the deer to stumble that one, crucial step. Restless sinks his fangs into the doe's neck close to her chest, only to receive a knee to his side, as the doe's forelegs flail out. It's Judges-Souls, whose Hispo teeth sink into the unbled flank of the doe, that manages to weigh down the animal. Panic at being in the proximity of the Hispo is expressed by the doe's heavy bleat from pain and distress. She's left completely open to Duck-to-Water now.
Duck-To-Water sees a chance to end it quickly and near-painlessly, and takes it. He moves with rage-filled quickness, jumping over Restless' form to get at the deer's throat. Once there, he tries to bite into the animal's jugular and rip outward.
Restless comes up from where he was knocked off and gives his whole body a shake as he comes close to the deer. His eyes blink some at what he has just done and what the other two are doing. This having been the first thing the cub has had a part in it's death.
Judges-Souls gets a strong hold of the doe to pull her down with her weight as the Fianna cub rips away at her neck. She growls lowly, holding on with all of her might to bring the deer down.
The hunt is, for the most part, almost silent. The struggles of predator and prey sound with mere shuffles and heavy thuds of paws and hooves against the ground. Judges-Souls weighs down much too heavily for the doe to hold up against, and the doe's hind legs buckle. Duck-to-Water's teeth bite into skin and flesh with unnatural speed, tearing out the deer's throat. The doe falls, life ebbing away with each beat of the slowing heart. Its eyes meet Restless's, and the cub can see them eventually glaze over.
Duck-To-Water, flush with victory from the hunt, bolts down the flesh and ligament that he holds in his jaws. It's over. It was a good hunt. He settles on his haunches by the carcass, looking at the other two.
Restless watches the deer for a moment longer and then the rage gets to be too much as the blood fills the air. He growls and comes in, opening his jaws and beginning to rip at the kill. He pauses however, looking to Erika, a litany law ringing in his head. That one of the kill going to the elder. He pauses and looks to Judges for some signal to go ahead.
Judges-Souls howls out the victory and a song to Gaia for the good hunt. Her eyes flicker towards Restless and she leans into the carcass, pulling away under the ribs at the most tender portion of the kill. As she takes the lead, she swishes her tail and allows the two others to join her.
Duck-To-Water bumps Judges-Souls approvingly as he starts to eat the still-warm flesh. Blood flecks his muzzle as he feasts. Definitely different from the normally mild young man.
Restless joins in and it doesn't take too very long for the cub to begin to enjoy the fruits of his labor.
Judges-Souls takes her portion of the kill and moves off a ways form the carcass. She allows time for the two to eat their fill as well. Surely they roll around for awhile with stuffed stomachs before Judge herds the two back towards the farmhouse.

#16: Mirror, mirror

Sun, 28 May 2006 02:29:42 GMT

Suggested Listening: Blues Brothers 2000 OST's Season of the Witch

The Sept Compound
Sweeping branches of trees form a sort of natural roof overshadowing most of this clearing, no more than an open space of grasses and beaten earth in the heart of the forest. Some pains have been taken to keep wear and tear on the area to a minimum, so the firepit tends to shift from time to time. The firepit, several sawn logs polished from use, and a stack of firewood discreetly piled up at the base of an old spruce under a tarp, are the only signs of constant occupation. However, a student of such things might think that some minimal landscaping or planning has been done, for the meadow like profusion of grasses and other plants has an unusually high concentration of brilliant flowers, which attract a number of bees and butterflies.
A faint trail leads off to the east, and a bit north.

Cole ambles into the area, a curious expression stamped over his features as he hears his friend's comment. Now /this/ is new. "You have to find four others, before you even get Rited?"
Auggie sighs, blowing a chunk of matted curls up and out of his face. The young Ahroun's hair is beginning to look like quite a rat's nest. "Todd, that... seems kinda harsh, but I can see the logic, there. You've pissed off a bunch of Garou here, so if everyone's pissed at you, it won't do a lick of good how good a fighter you are... if nobody trusts you. I get told all the time how your pack is like your family. So, you're asking me if I would *choose* you for my family?" He tenses, and then releases it in another sigh. "Only on the condition you *prove* yerself to be trustworthy. I mean it, there's good in you, Todd, but you're way too proud. Also, I wasn't askin' you *how* you would fight. I meant, like in the Scab? Or protectin' the Caern, or the forests?"
Paws chuffs and nods along, agreeing. I have two weeks, Dark. I hope I can prove myself for you by then. He wolfishly sighs, and turns to pad over by Cole, and pauses halfway to respond. And I would fight wherever I am needed. Friend.
Auggie takes his hands out of his pockets and folds his arms, the moon shining off his deep tan skin as he faces the Ragabash. "Yeah, well, just remember what I said to you. A lot can happen in two weeks, but you are gonna have to make some changes, Hands-Faster-Than-Head," he says, his tone flat and even. He punctuates the end of the sentence with a small, final grunt.
Paws stops a moment, and turns to face him once more. The Gnawer's tone and attitude this entire time has been as civil and polite as a lupus can manage, and he continues that. This is the first step to those changes, cousin. With a nod and a chuff of good-bye, he trots over to speak with Cole.
Auggie continues to watch Paws for a moment, and then, without a word, he turns and shifts down to lupus. The pitch black wolf pads silently out of the clearing, tail up and head down.
Cole looks down to Paws, cocking his head to the side. "So...care to tell me what's up?"
Paws sits on his haunches, and looks up, and up. Will you sit with me, please?
Cole nods. "Yeah, sure." He seems nonchalant as he sinks to the ground, one leg tucked under him, the other held out comfortably. "So...."
Paws nods subtly. Yes. It is a serious issue. I must find four Garou without a pack that would run with me. Or a pack that would accept. They do not actually have to pack with me, or each other. Merely be willing to pack with me. Or I may die. It is dire. Fellow cub, who I think to be my friend, what say you?
Cole raises a brow. "You may die? Damn." He lets out a whistle. "That is dire, if nothing else is. Before I answer, I'll say, yeah, I am your friend. But...what's this that guy was just talking about? The trust thing."
Paws nods and lets out a wolfish sigh. I. I angered his tribe brother. Enough to have him wish to challenge me. It did, though, have some good. Dark-as-Night says his brother now works much harder to improve himself. Even if it is to only beat me worse, I do not care. The same skills will serve him in the fighting the Wyrm.
Cole nods, letting out a breath. "That's true enough. Count me in as number two, then. Who knows, we may even pack it up, in the end." He shrugs, then gives a faint grin.
Paws cocks his head a bit, ears flicking. You..would pack with me?
Cole smirks. "No, I usually like getting people's hopes up and then dash them." He shakes his head. "Seriously, Todd. Yeah, I would pack with you. We're cubs, and I could think of much worse teammates to end up with."
Paws barks happily and jumps for joy! He stands on his hindlegs and turns in a circle, he is so excited! Oh, thank you, brother! With a great leap, Cole is knocked flat, and gets a big face lick as Paws wags happily!
Cole has enough time to look surprised, before he's knocked back. "Ack! Ack, c'mon! What do you eat, carrion!" He gives a playful shove to the excited wolf, grinning, despite himself.
Paws scampers off Cole, but still prances and dances. He lifts his head to the sky, and howls out for his Elder to hear, announcing his first success. The First has agreed! The First has agreed!
Cole chuckles, still shaking his head. He looks upward as Paws howls, eyes finding Luna for the first time this evening. A tight expression crosses his features, one that doesn't fade swiftly. "Yeah, he has," he affirms.
Paws continues to wag, and turns back to Cole. I would be honored to pack with you, friend. I know that we could do well. Now, there are but three to find. He chuffs, and pads back over. But I've talked too much. Your turn. Told any good stories lately?
Cole shakes his head, smirking. "Nah, not really. I haven't been able to talk to Trevor, Megan, or anybody but Aubrey for more than a minute or so, lately. It's like whenever I'm not busy, they are. And whenever they're not, I am." He shrugs. "What're ya gonna do," he says rhetorically.
Paws chuffs and pads over, sitting by him. His tail wags once, hopefully, and he give Cole's shoulder a nuzzle. Our Elders are busy with many things. We will be, too, once we Rite. They handle all the duties, and we do not. So we have much free time, and they a little. And it seems we never see them. The Gnawer chuffs softly, hoping he's not invading Cole's personal space as he continues. You can tell me one, if you want.
Cole doesn't seem to mind, having gotten used to the rudiments of lupine social interactions over the past months. "Yeah, I guess that makes sense. A story...well, let's see what I can do." He clears his throat. "Just a moment."
Paws nods, and waits.
Cole 's eyes light up. "Alright." He stands up, turning to face his friend and potential packmate. "This story, like every good story, is completely true. Every word of it is genuine, and if you look hard enough, you'll be able to find proof of that." His voice falls into a sort of rhythm, a smooth cadence that speaks much of familiarity with storytelling.
Paws chuffs, and perks his ears to listen closely.
Cole continues on with little pause to catch his thoughts. "In the land of Eire, long ago, before even the son of man's God was born, there was a village. A village like many others, unremarkable save, perhaps, for the fact of it's prosperity. The land of this village, who's name has been lost in antiquity, was fertile, rich with Gaia's energies. As such, the villagers lived in harmony with all other things."
Paws settles down onto all fours, resting his head on his paws as he listens.
Cole is standing a yard or so in front of Paws, apparently telling a story. He makes vague gestures with his hands, and moves about in an unobtrusive fashion. "As is the way of such things, though, bounty inspires envy in others. In this case, it was a sorcerer who came to call. A vile man of unlimited ambition and spite, he wanted nothing so much as to strip the village of it's vitality and harness it for his own uses."
Paws growls softly at the mention of such a villain, giving Cole some lupus-feedback.
Cole's lips twitch upward in the beginnings of a smile, but he suppresses it. "And so this man, this magician arrives, setting up his lair a half day's hard march from the village. Using his forbidden lore, he ripped the very bones of the world from the ground, using them to create his tower, a monument to himself. Made from the purest obsidian, it was, yet do dark the light could not escape it's depths. This tower rose beyond sight into the air, as if reaching with a single talon to snatch the sun and moon from the sky."
Paws barks angrily at this rape of the earth, and his huge paws scratch at the ground.
Cole 's hand rises, as if trying to illustrate the tower. "And from this defiled base, the sorcerer worked his will, siphoning away the gifts from this prosperous village. It was slow, at first. Winter came a bit early, that year. A bit colder in the mornings. The wisest of the villagers remarked on the rarity of such an event in passing, but nothing more. It was not until the spring, when the renewal of life came forth with drastically less vigor than before that most even became concerned. By then, it was too late. The sorcerer had stolen enough of the Mother's lifeforce to make himself nigh upon invulnerable. He took his weakness, and all his human flaws, everything he denied within himself, and locked it away within a very special vessel. A mirror, a full ten feet tall and framed with purest gold. One would think he might have been satisfied. But power corrupts, and absolute power...well, you have heard the rest. This was merely the beginning's of the man's ambition."
Paws growls, and all but foams at the mouth!
There's a sound in the dark forest, a burst of movement, then another, the unmistakable duet of furious predator and startled prey. It lasts a few brief seconds and then stops, the outcome hard to make out, until a piteous whine of frustration from a young mule cub whines its way out from the trees, accompanied a little after by an amused but sympathetic whuff from a larger Crinos.
Cole finds himself falling into his role as the teller of tales, his voice starting to fill with emotion as he speaks. "Like a glutton, he took, and took. The land for miles and miles around began to wither and die. Those creatures unfortunate enough to weather the assault were warped beyond recognition, driven insane by this act of.. of spiritual rape." He blinks, looking over at the sound.
Paws chuffs, and turns to study the two newcomers. A short sniff is all he needs to recognize the little metis he took care of for so many weeks, and his elder. He barks out a friendly greeting to them, inviting them in further.
A short moment after the small failure of a hunt, Squeaks-Like-a-Rat scampers in quickly from the woods, all previous traces of disappointment gone. Fat-Ripper follows closely behind, lumbering along in Crinos, plants snapping before her until she gets into the clearing, where the passage of many feet have worn the ground down. A rumbling whuff of greeting goes out to the two cubs, and she barrels over towards them, Squeaks a few meters ahead.
Cole pauses, waiting calmly. Paws' greeting sets him at ease, and he has a half smile on his features.
Paws chuffs and braces himself for a metisy onslaught of flying fur. He knows how she like to climb up his shaggy fur.
Squeaks barrels heavily into Paws legs, then scrambles around behind him to scramble up onto his back, taking hold of a great lock of hair and lurching herself up, legs kicking air beneath her. Fat-Ripper comes to a full stop a bit off the three cubs, hunching herself down on four paws. ~Hello, Paws,~ she greets him, before turning curious eyes on the unrecognized Garou, and flicking her ears.
Paws gruffs and growls a bit as she scampered up onto his back, leaning his head around to give her a sniff and affectionate lick. Hello, little one. He speaks softly and sweetly to her, wagging some. Hello, Ripper-Rhya. He gestures to Cole with his muzzle. He is the first to openly agree to pack with me. Seeker-rhya said he would, once I mature and am fully trained. Dark-as-Night is considering it.
Cole nods. "Ripper-Rhya," he says, by way of greeting.
~Does Seeker know why you asked?~ the monstrous wolf-thing asks, her ears trained on her cub. ~And who is he?~ Fat-Ripper asks as well, quite blunt in her Crinos form, attention flickering over towards the other. She rounds off her other questions with a curious, ~Do you know what I am saying?~ just to be sure. Meanwhile, the heavy mule has perched herself on Paws' back like a sailor on a crow's nest, clinging with one clawed hand while she tries to keep her balance.
Paws shifts as Squeaks sits up on his back, trying to make sure she doesn't fall off and take some of his fur with her. His ears tuck a little at the salvo of Mother's Tongue. Those are questions, right? I asked Seeker, Ahroun and Warder. I kept nothing back when anyone asked why. I explained the situation honestly and fully as I understand it.
Cole clears his throat. "Brian Cole, known as Duck-To-Water, Galliard cub of the Fianna, of the Sept of the Hidden Walk. And..yeah, I can understand."
Fat-Ripper lurches up to stand at her full towering Crinos height, then begins to shrivel up like a grape in the sun, until she's a woman-size raisin; a big woman, yes, but, still. She's got a heavy sweater on despite the summer heat, around which she wraps her arms, looking between the cubs idly. "A'right," is all she says at first, rather anticlimactically. Squeaks squeals, then, apparently quite enjoying herself: it's quite a treat for someone to allow her to ride in Lupus. ~Go, go!~ she squeaks out, shifting her weight up and down. "So," Olga asks curiously, dropping herself to the grassy ground, "what're you two doin'?"
Paws barks softly back at her, and, to humor her, begins to trot around the glade at a leisurely pace. His ears are perked, and he wags his tail, glad to carry her a round a bit. He responds to Olga's question when he gets a bit closer. He was telling a story.
Cole shrugs, gesturing towards Paws. "What the wolf said," he answers, simply.
Olga looks at Cole, hard and inquisitive, her eyes pinching up; after a moment she relaxes, glances back at Paws and Squeaks, and then looks at Cole again. "Your Elders taught you about Totems, yet?" she asks him gruffly, voice tired from walking.
Paws tires after only a few trots around the glade, and returns to Olga and Cole. He sits himself down, and gives Olga a look and soft chuff so she'll be sure to notice him there. That done, he settles down to listen. No.

((Here Cole drifts out of the conversation and ultimately leaves))

#15: Poptarts and beer, mmm

Sun, 28 May 2006 02:16:05 GMT

Suggested Listening: Avenue Q OST's Schadenfreude

Farmhouse: Hallway and Living Room
All doorways in the front part of the house lead to the front hallway, a J-shaped area with the short tail starting at the stairs, the front door hitting the bottom curve, the doorless opening to the living room halfway up the long side, and the also doorless opening to the kitchen and dining room at the very top. The hall has a simple wooden floor, and decorated with a generic print of soft-colored flowers hanging on the wall to the right of the front door, and a tall table sitting under the print which serves as a place to toss keys. A closet under the stairs serves as a place to hang coats or to toss shoes.
The doorless opening to the living room is halfway up the side of the hall's J, and the word cozy might spring to mind when looking into is, as it seems to radiate comforting vibrations. A long couch sits against the south wall beneath a large bay window curtained only by sheers that manages to obscure the view in but only filters the day's light. A variety of out-of-date magazines are strewn atop a low coffee table; more neatly presented are the plethora of books filling the small bookshelves which line the eastern wall. Three chairs sit about the room, focused inward, to allow group conversations. Large floor pillows are stacked in one corner of the room, except one, which lies carelessly in the middle of the floor, apparently left out the last time it was used.
An opening in the northern end of the hallway allows access to the kitchen and dining room at the back of the house, while carpeted stairs twist up at the other end of the hall, leading to the second floor. A door at the base of the J lets out to the front porch.

Cole is sitting at a couch, a small, leather-bound book open on his lap. He's looking down at the book, or perhaps through it, a pencil grips half-heartedly at the eraser between his teeth.
Todd comes down the stairs, a bit slowly. He walks into the living room, his right hand pressed on his ribs, left side. He sits himself down into the armchair, slowly. "Grrrrffff, hey, Cole." Todd is in Glabro for some reason, and has two bandaids on his ear.
Cole, having spent some time in Glabro himself recently, looks up, blinking once or twice. "Are you the guy who got bumped around the house and bashed stuff up," he asks, taking his pencil from his mouth.
Todd shakes his head. "Nah. That was Kenneth. Speaking off which..." His eyes narrow as he catches the blood trail and damage. "Fuck. That other cub...Lucky, Louis...Lucas! Yeah. He helped patch Ken up, and said he's clean up the mess. Wonder what happened...." He takes his hand off his ribs, and settles in the chair. "I've been asleep since yesterday. Is Ken still here? Or did his tribe whisk him away?"
Cole tilts his head a bit. "Uh..not sure? I haven't met either of them. Whyfor did you make with the fisticuffs?" He sits up, showing interest as he does. "You're the first cub-fight that I know of."
Todd nods. "You Galliards. Should I start from the very beginning, or just the part with the farmhouse?" His lips curl up into a little smile as he tugs the bandaids off his ear, revealing it has healed.
Cole nods eagerly, a grin lighting his features. "Hey, if I make it into a good story, you could reap the benefits too! So spill."
Todd nods. "Alright. But first you have to go get me some poptarts or something. I am starving for food." He smiles, and nods. "Go on. Oh...I talked to Trevor about the Minor Hunt. He thinks it might be a good idea. He's gonna discuss it with Megan."
Cole shrugs, standing up. He drops the book onto the table, along with the pencil. "Strawberry frosted cool with you, Todd?" He pauses for a moment before continuing. "Sweet. I'd love a chance to cut loose as a group."
Todd nods. "Sure. And bring a drink too! Please!"
Cole disappears into the kitchen for a while, and the sounds of someone rummaging through the room can be heard. He comes back with an entire box of the poptarts under one arm, a beer in one hand, and a can of soda in the other. "Catch." He tosses the soda towards Todd.
Todd catches the soda easily, and sets it down. He accepts the poptarts eagerly. "Alright. Here's the story. About a week ago, I got in a fight with Kenneth in the city. We were both in Homid, me, cause I didn't want him to die, and he, because he hadn't changed yet. Short version, I won. Fast forward. I'm in the dining room, eating some breakfast. Ken walks in. He sees me and goes apeshit. I get to the kitchen before he catches up and starts to throw bunches and shit." He gobbles down a tart. "You getting all this?"
Cole raises a brow, opening his book again. He starts writing swiftly. Skritch skritch skritch. "Little vague, but yeah, I am." He doesn't bother with drink or food, just yet.
Todd shrugs. "Alright. I was eating three eggs, four slices of bacon. It was in the early afternoon. He walks in the room, rushes me. I shove the table at him and head into the kitchen. I try to shut the door, he slams it open in Glabro. I whack him with a frying pan-He catches it on his arm. He throws a punch, I throw a kick. Then an Elder yells at us both, and tells us to go short that out in the barn."
Cole writes in the little details, grinning. "Okay, not the most heroic tale, but everyone's gotta start somewhere. Even if it is, 'you damn kids go play outside!' Which Elder was it? And what happened next?" He cracks open his beer, now, and takes a swig.
Todd eats another tart. "Uh..Curtis, or something like that. Anyway, we head out into the barn. I say, 'Look, let me explain why I did what I did in the city, and if you're still pissed, we'll scrap. But I warn you, I'm dangerous.' Ken just looks at me and says, 'Come on, you cowardly bitch!' About then, I praised Gaia I wasn't a Get, or he'd be dead, and I'd be culled. But, I still didn't want to hurt him. So I go down to Hispo, and try to maneuver to the door. You know, lock him in, let him cool down. But, no, he figures that out, starts calling me a coward again, and he shifts to Crinos."
Cole continues on writing, grinning. "Trash talking. Good thing you're a no-moon, Todd. I would have attacked his sorry ass."
Todd shrugs. "Well, I did, eventually. Though I didn’t frenzy or, yeah, he'd be dead. He was real green, real new. A total |Russian| if ya know. He could barely even stand up in crinos. So he goes on all fours. In crinos. So, he's blocking the door and I don't have much choice. I feint, dodge and weave, try to make it clear that I could rip him apart if I wanted. Did that for a while. But the stubborn fuck kept swiping at me."
Cole grins. "Story's getting even better." He keeps writing, and occasionally adding a bit of a doodle to the text-strewn pages.
Todd sighs. "I mean, I didn't have much choice. Apparently, this guy is gonna chase and attack me until we have a Clint Eastwood-style showdown. So, I decided to make it abundantly clear, in red, liquid letters that I was more kickass. So, a quick one-two feint, and I rip off a chunk of his leg. I mean I tore it like a drumstick. Rind hindpaw-out of the fight. Now he's stuck like a tripod, on his one hind leg and forepaws. He flailed at me, and gave me a little nick on the ribs. Lucky. That’s the only hit he got."
Cole makes a note of that, chuckling. "Way to kick some ass, Todd. Did it end there, or..." He trails off, taking the time to open his snack and take a bite.
Todd snorts. "I ain't proud. That fight was like a 6th grader beating the shit out of a 1st grader. No contest. Anyway, I cripple his hindleg. He still keeps coming. He taps into the Rage Gaia gave him, and fucking shoots at me, claws flying. Does he catch me? Hell no. I'm a no-moon, but quick as fuck. So he misses, and gets a face-full of dirt. Me, I'm not the one bleeding from a stripped leg, I got all damn day. I take my time to circle around, try to get a good position. Easy, cause he's even slower. He tries to slash me again. So I bite his fucking arm! His claws barely graze my cheek. That healed sometime in the night."
Cole leans in, listening intently. "Oh, maybe it could be used as a story about Honor, rather than Glory," he amends, considering that. "Go on? How long did it take this cub to go down?"
Todd holds up his arm to demonstrate. "So he's on the ground, grinding dirt into his wound, turning the floor to bloodmud, and I'm just chewing the hell out of his arm. I Gnawed it to the bone." He smirks, making a stupid joke. "He gets smart, and tries to get his head around to bite my face. I'm not stupid. I let go of his arm before his teeth got there. He nicked my ear, barely. But yeah, he was using rage again. So, I let his arm go, but took the muscle with me."
Cole winces. "Geez. Is this kid gonna have scars for the rest of his life, or something?" He dutifully writes it all down, though.
Todd shrugs. "Probably. Now, remember, I'm giving him about a minute or two between each of these attacks, right? So He's got plenty of time to show his throat and fucking end it. Hell, I was about to just walk away and leave him be. But anyway, I'm thinking he's really hardcore. So I back up, shirt to Glabro to talk, and ask him why he hasn't shown throat. Turns out, he was never told about challenges, or how Garou handle combat. At all. He was just dumped at the farmhouse. But somehow I explained enough that he decided to surrender. It was probably the part where I said, 'You know, one of us has to surrender. Cause if we don't, this is to the death. Can you guess who is most likely to die?' I did, of course, mention, that when he surrendered, I was honor-bound to no long attack him. Hell, I fucking offered to carry him back to the farmhouse and patch him up in the infirmary!"
Cole laughs. "And you're not proud of that." He grins, setting the book down. "At least among the Fianna, that would be a big deal in the Honor and Wisdom department. Maybe even Glory. You're still a cub, so any cub is technically your equal. This will be a GREAT story to start off with!" He shakes his head. "Sorry, got ahead of myself. So he backed down, and you got him to the infirmary?"
Todd rolls his hands in a circle. "In a round-about way. Even after he surrendered, he was acting like a total ass. I know a Get wouldn't call that an honorable surrender at all, but I cut him some slack. I even tried to explain a bit about Garou combat, when this other cub, Lucas come in. Ken wouldn't take my help, but Lucas gave him a hand up to the infirmary and bandaged him up. Lucas also said he'd clean up downstairs, but I guess not. I put some bandages on myself, and fucking crashed."
Cole nods, setting his book down after a few last notes. "And speaking of crashing, that’s what I'm gonna do in a moment." He shrugs. "Long day," he explains. "Chores to do tomorrow, and all that. Well, congrats on a fight, no matter how easy."
Todd holds up a hand. "Hey, Wait. Be sure to tell my Elders about all that gaining honor and Glory shit-before they cull my ass for beating a week-old cub. I mean. he challenged me and all but...."
Cole laughs. "Maybe I won't tell YOUR elders. Just mine, then? Hey, /I/ could always use it."
Todd wags a finger. "Don't pull that shit. You're a Galliard. You tell everybody."
Cole smirks. "Yeah, sure. I'll make sure everyone hears it, if they'll listen. And hey, you taught the little snot something about Garou! We'll have both done our job!" He holds out his hand, as if expecting a high five.
Todd gives him a high-five, smirking. "Sure. I'm gonna go get something proper to eat. See ya!"
Cole tosses off a salute, then heads up to the attic, taking his book, pencil and snacks with him. "Night, Todd!"

#14: The facts of life

Sun, 28 May 2006 02:09:25 GMT

Suggested Listening: Barenaked Ladies' What a Good Boy

Farmhouse: Hallway and Living Room
All doorways in the front part of the house lead to the front hallway, a J-shaped area with the short tail starting at the stairs, the front door hitting the bottom curve, the doorless opening to the living room halfway up the long side, and the also doorless opening to the kitchen and dining room at the very top. The hall has a simple wooden floor, and decorated with a generic print of soft-colored flowers hanging on the wall to the right of the front door, and a tall table sitting under the print which serves as a place to toss keys. A closet under the stairs serves as a place to hang coats or to toss shoes.
The doorless opening to the living room is halfway up the side of the hall's J, and the word cozy might spring to mind when looking into is, as it seems to radiate comforting vibrations. A long couch sits against the south wall beneath a large bay window curtained only by sheers that manages to obscure the view in but only filters the day's light. A variety of out-of-date magazines are strewn atop a low coffee table; more neatly presented are the plethora of books filling the small bookshelves which line the eastern wall. Three chairs sit about the room, focused inward, to allow group conversations. Large floor pillows are stacked in one corner of the room, except one, which lies carelessly in the middle of the floor, apparently left out the last time it was used.
An opening in the northern end of the hallway allows access to the kitchen and dining room at the back of the house, while carpeted stairs twist up at the other end of the hall, leading to the second floor. A door at the base of the J lets out to the front porch.
(Non-Garou, please "+view curse")
Contents:
Mara
Cutter

Cutter is down in the living room, sprawled on the couch, smoking a cigarette. His feet are propped up on the coffee table, and the brim of his hat tugged down over his eyes.
Mara comes into the living room, carrying a large garbage bag and muttering to herself. "Geez, running around on all fours in the woods does not make us uncivilized. Can't anyone pick up after themselves?"
Cutter simply says "Nope," without moving or even looking up. "They're pretty much all slobs."
Cole steps out of the kitchen, half a sandwich clenched between his teeth. "'ey, 're 'oh 'obs," he mumbles to the other cub. He glances at Cutter.
Startled, Mara nearly drops the garbage bag. "Geez, doesn't anyone announce themselves? Or do they simply let themselves in the front door and then lie in wait?" She turns to Cole. "And don't talk with your mouth full unless you're in lupus. I have no clue what you just said."
This prompts Cutter to push his hat up, and sit. "I knocked. I came in, I shouted 'Knock Knock'. I closed the door. I sat down. If you're complaining about the mess at such a volume you can't hear me, then I might be able to sneak up on you."
Cole takes a moment to scowl around his dinner, but takes the food from his mouth in the end. "Gee, thanks, MOM. I said 'Hey, we're not slobs'." He addresses Cutter, next. "What, you aren't allowed to go on the Great Hunt, either?"
Mara scowls right back at Cole. "You may not be a slob, but you still have crumbs on your chin." She turns to Cutter. "I apologize. I must not have been in the house when you entered. I spend much of my time out in the barn."
Cutter studies both Farmies for a moment. "I don't think I know either of you. Cutter Thomson, fostern lord, knife moon, and part of the brave and valiant Red Cross during tonight's festivities."
Cole brushes at his chin, self-consciously. "I prefer to think of that as saving rations for hard times," he grumbles. He takes a seat on one of the couches. "Brian Cole, galliard cub of the Fianna."
Mara gives a slight bow. "Mara, Theurge cub of unknown Tribe."
Cutter sits up a little straighter. "Oh yeah, I've heard of you," he says to Mara. "You're the New Toy."
Cole raises a brow, looking at Mara. "Toy," he asks, a grin twitching to life at the corner of his mouth.
Mara wrinkles her nose. "I should be more offended by that title. But it's hardly the worst I've heard in my life. Heck, it's hardly the worst I've heard this week."
Cutter smiles, nose wrinkling slightly. "I've never been the New Toy. Nobody ever wanted to play with me. So I'm just jealous." He glances at his watch. "So are you two staying out here with Trevor?"
Cole nods, looking vaguely disgruntled as he does. "At least until the next Hunt. By then, I may have been Rited and made ready." He takes a big bite of his sandwich.
Mara nods. "Yeah. Except I need a Tribe before I ever get Rited."
Cutter says "Have they told you yet how awful the Shadow Lords are? That we're evil and sneaky and we eat kittens?"
Mara shakes her head. "Not really. Trevor said I wouldn't like you and wouldn't fit in, but that was it. No one said anything about kittens."
Cole grins at that. "I hadn't heard the kittens part. It was babies, for me. But then again, I've met a Get who wasn't a complete ass, so I'm willing to consider other opinions." He gives a shrug.
Cutter nods. "So here's the obligatory sales pitch. I'd certainly love to see a new tribe member. And if you're the type who would rather perform a heroic full frontal attack slash suicide charge than get a pragmatic and well-informed battle plan, then you wouldn't fit in. And we only eat kittens when we run out of fresh babies.
Mara grins. "Not really into the whole frontal assault thing. Like I told Jamethon when I got the Get pitch, Wolverine and his kind are all well and good, but I take more after skunk in that family."
Cole puts his legs up on one of the tables. Thump-thump. "I thought you were all about the fisher, though," he comments, off-handedly. "Nothing wrong with a battle plan," he adds in. Loves to hear himself talk, this boy does.
Cutter glances at Cole. "Fissure?" Then he turns back to Mara. "Well then. Let me know if you want to talk more, if you've got questions. But half an hour before a mighty battle I might not come back from may not be the best time."
"Fisher," explains Mara. "It's relative of the weasel. And I never said I was one, just that I wanted to /see/ one. We don't have them in Ohio."
From Center of the Caern, Firewatcher can be heard to howl, ~(without Call of the Wyld) Garou! We gather for the Hunt!~
Cole shakes his head. "Nah. Fisher. Fisher cat. Nasty little weaseloid." He cocks his head to the side at hearing the howl. "Well, there we are."
Mara asks Cole, "So, you really wanted to go?"
Cutter glances toward the back door. "Yep. That's my cue." He doesn't look like he's in a big rush to get off the couch just yet though. In fact, he doesn't make a move to stand up.
Cole nods to Mara. "Yeah, I did. Kinda funny. I just finished getting better from getting ripped up by a couple of coyotes, and now I want to do it all over again." He shrugs, then looks to Cutter. "Well, hopefully, you won't have to do too much patching up."
Cutter holds up a hand and crosses his fingers. "If I'm wearing white Geneva says they're not supposed to attack me." He tucks the other hand into a jacket pocket and pulls out a small white card. "Mara. You want to talk, get in touch with me. You don't want to talk, then you can figure out the next step."
Mara takes the card. "Thanks. And I think I might like to talk. I'm around here all the time, so I'm easy to find."
Cole goes back to his dinner, wolfing the rest of it down and wiping crumbs from lap. Onto the floor. He seems to think about that for a moment, and uses his foot to shuffle the crumbs beneath the couch.
Cutter finally gets up. "Cole. If you decide you want to renounce and join up with a tribe that provides you with free kittens, borrow that card from her."
Mara giggles. "You'll never get him away. He's too into beer and parties."
Cole shoots a grin Mara's way. "Hey, I haven't been to a Fianna party /yet/! And I can only get beer when the people who buy them don't finish off the case." He looks back to Cutter and nods, politely. "I don't think I will, but I'll keep it in mind. Thanks."
Severs quickly shifts down to four leg form, and barks! Kittens! Then, with the cigarette still dangling from his lips, he trots off toward the kitchen. His claws click on the linoleum as he pushes his way out the back door.
Mara fingers the card. "Kittens, huh? Well, ya gotta eat."
Cole glances at Mara. "I hear they're good eating." He pauses, watching Cutter trot off. "Y'know, there's a picture I'm pretty sure National Geographic would pay good money for. A wolf smoking a cigarette."
Mara rolls her eyes. "You wouldn't live long enough to spend the money. I'm pretty sure the rule about veil breaches covers that."
Cole shrugs. "Probably, but a guy can dream." He sits up. "So...ah. What are you up to, tonight?"
Mara shrugs as well. "No clue. I was told to stay around here 'cause of the Hunt. Beyond that...."
Cole lets out a sigh. "Yeah, same here. Huh." He puts his feet back on the table, making himself comfortable. "Hey, Mara? Mind if I ask you something?" He doesn't wait for an answer. "Are you supposed to choose your own tribe, or will the tribe choose you, or is some spirit supposed to tell you what's up, or something?"
"Heck if I know." Mara rolls her eyes. "Well, no, I sorta know. I'm supposed to ask around, talk with members of various Tribes, and if I like one, speak to their Elder or have Megan do it. But... I don't know more than that. Seeker said it wasn't entirely up to me, which I get, but he didn't explain how the selection works. Alicia sounded me out for the Children of Gaia, but considering she also looked me over as breeding stock with her brother, I', think I'd like a Tribe that wants me for more than my reproductive organs. Unless something happens to change me mind..." She fingers the card Cutter gave her again. "... I guess the next time I see Seeker, I ask him what I need to do to find out if I can join the Silent Striders."
Cole pales for just an instant as 'reproductive organs' are mentioned, but nods. "No one told me much about the Silent Striders. Nomads, and they're good with the spirit world. Other than that..." He trails off, and then shakes his head. "And speaking of reproductive organs, Taslyn and some Black Fury had a little clash about that last night in the barn." He shakes his head.
Mara sighs. "Is this more on Taslyn needing to have a baby?"
Cole nods. "I hadn't heard anything about it. Ahem. Anyway, apparently, this Black Fury has the only Fianna Kinfolk in town. And Taslyn asked her to borrow him for a night. Or two. Or however long it took. It did NOT go down well from there."
Mara winces. "Ouch. Maybe she should have asked for a sample, rather than the source. But it's not all Taslyn's fault. She's getting a lot of pressure to have a baby."
Cole nods. "Well, y'see, I kinda suggested dinner and a movie with a turkey baster, and that sorta pissed the Black Fury off. I left a little bit later. I'm sort of fond of my anatomy as is. But before I did, Tas said it had to be natural, the way Gaia wanted. Maybe that's a condition of her punishment?"
Mara shrugs. "Heck if I know. You'd have to ask Megan. Though, I wouldn't. I'm guessing sensitive subject all around."
Cole flops back on the couch. "Yeah, I bet. I don't think I really want to know any more about my tribemates' personal lives."
Mara laughs. "Well, wait until they start coming after you. You haven't noticed? How big a deal they make outta making babies? It's like you won the lottery if they hear you've got a kid on the way."
Todd glides down the stairs with practiced stealth, and arrives in flourish. "Hello!"
Cole smirks. "Yeah, seems that way. Though Alicia seems pretty genuinely excited about it. I guess we need everyone we can get. But don't you think they could just..y'know, relax a bit about the whole breeding thing? We're still people, last I heard." He looks over. "Hey, Todd. Poptarts in the kitchen. Strawberry, tonight."
Mara rolls her eyes. "As long as she doesn't ask me to rub her belly. It's a little obsessive. Actually, it's a lot obsessive. But you missed the squealing over a 'Gnawer with pups. As for the reproducing thing, we're supposed to be warriors and soldiers. Gaia needs cannon fodder, I guess."
Todd ticks his finger. "Yeah, strawberry. If you weren't smart enough to hoard." A shiny, familiar pouch is slipped from inside his jacket. "Huh, breeding? Oh, yeah. That important. We die young, so we need a lot of young ones, ya know." He pads over, and plunks onto the couch. "You guys want some of the good stuff?"
Cole eyes Todd. "I hope you're planning on forking one over," he comments, dryly. "Yeah, we die young. Big whoop. Don't wolves mate at two years old, or something? Let the lupus hump away in the name of Gaia, and let us date whoever we feel like. Or at least, whoever will deal with us."
Mara snorts. "Hey, you guys have the easy half of the equation. Personally, I'm going to stall for as long as I can."
Todd nods, and runs a fingertip along the edge of the pouch, leaving a neat slit behind. Creepy. "Sure, you can have one, Cole. Here." One is handed to the other boy, Todd nodding along. "Yeah, like that’s gonna work. And Mara, you won't have much choice in the matter. I hear the Alpha is really strict on the whole breeding thing. Sometimes, I swear I'm living in a damn puppy-mill. There's even been talk of me finding some pretty wolfhound bitch, or even a husky and rearing some pups."
Cole takes the poptart, his features screwing up. "Uh, Todd. Please tell me you're kidding. Because I kinda had dinner a bit ago, and thinking about using a dog as kinfolk, or even a wolf is sorta giving me the heebies and the jeebies." He mock-shudders. "Hey, it's not as if it sounds fun to have sex just for the sake of making babies, Mara. Sorta sucks the romance right out of it."
Mara nods. "More than just strict. I talked to Taslyn. Megan's threatened to take her baby -- the baby she hasn't even had yet! because she's involved with Get kin and that's not proper for a Fianna baby. And just where do you expect to find romance? Before or after you get beat up by Wyrm creatures?"
Todd takes a hearty bite of his tart, savoring it. "What, you didn't know Garou could breed with dogs? I mean, she'd have to be a stout bitch, but it can be done. Besides, there is almost no way in hell A Gnawer could hook up with a wild, forest wolf, ya know?" He continues to eat, and takes a drink from a flask, also taken from inside his jacket. "It does take the romance out of it, yeah, but ya gonna do? Get your ass kicked by the Alpha?"
Cole shoots a scowl Mara's way. "Probably after," he answers, sourly. "Got to have a life outside the 'CAUSE', I guess." He looks at Todd. "YES," he answers, emphatically. He breaks his poptart in half and takes a bite of one.
Mara grins. "Hey, look on the bright side. We could die before we ever get a chance to get to the babymaking."
Todd shrugs. "I like that attitude." He says nothing further, but continues eating.
Cole glances at Mara again. "You have a real knack for that whole 'bright side' thing, you know," he responds. He blows a breath through pursed lips.
"I was being sarcastic, you know." Mara snorts. "My point was, there are worse things then doing it because you're supposed to instead of wanting to. AND we've got more pressing problems in our lives, like making it through our Rite of Passage alive. I seriously doubt they're gonna want untested cubs running around producing pups."
Todd lets a smirk play across his lips for a faint second. "So, how soon is your Rite, Cole?"
Cole blinks once. "Ah. Sarcasm. Awesome." He looks between his fellow cubs. "You think they're going to Rite us together? I've heard sometimes, they set up packs that way. Toss 'em all together, and whoever comes out alive stays together." He shrugs to Todd. "A month, maybe two," he ventures.
Mara shrugs. "Hey, I've got to find a Tribe before I get Rited. That is, provided the people I need to talk to survive tonight."
Todd shrugs. "Maybe. But regardless, Cole, you'll be at the front. Unless we rite with an Ahroun as well, in which case, you'll be right behind him. Ya know?" He smirks a little, perhaps making a joke. "As for you, Mara, you could always be a Gnawer...."
Cole rolls his eyes. "Well hurry up, then. The sooner you get into a tribe, the sooner they'll be able to sign you up for baby-making. And getting your ass kicked by Wyrm creatures." He smirks, taking a bite of his 'tart. A glance at Todd. "And you'll be doing...what, exactly? I doubt whatever we face will want to see magic tricks. That sorta stuff's for Mara, anyway. At least, that's what they say. So, Mara." He grins. "Know any hocus pocus, yet?"
Mara shakes her head. "I'm pretty sure I already told you, I'm not Gnawer material. As for the hocus-pocus, not yet. No teacher." She stands up from where she's been sitting. "You know what? This whole conversation has been depressing. I'm going to bed. Things will look a lot nicer when we're not sitting around here feeling sorry for ourselves. I'll see you guys later." She heads up the stairs.
Cole watches as Mara walks away. "Huh. Maybe she's right?"
Todd waves goodbye to Mara. "What will *I* be doing? Me? Why, keeping Wyrm creatures from sneaking up and biting your fuzzy ass, of course." He finishes his tart, and sighs. "Besides, throwing a spear works best you are far away, right?" His eyebrow quirks. "Right about what?"
Cole laughs. "Yeah, I guess there's that. Oh, and right about feeling sorry for ourselves. I say they should have let us kick ass with some of the rest."
Todd laughs too, and casts an arm across Cole's shoulder, drawing him close. He waves out with his other arm, gesturing out, as if to some expanse. "That would be fantastic. Kicking the ever-loving shit right out of the Wyrm, ripping its blackened heart out with our claws. That’s the ticket, huh?" With out warning, Cole is released, and Todd is sprawled near at the far side of the couch.
Cole's eyes show he's imagining that situation, a grin on his face. "See? That's what I'm talking abo-huh?"
Todd smiles, from where is lounging. "Do go on, please."
Cole takes a bite of his poptart before continuing. "All I'm saying is that maybe one of the adults should have stayed back and took us on our own hunt. Something like I saw last week. Some fomori, or something."
Todd nods. "Why don't you suggest it? I've got 6 sharp throwing spears waiting to pierce the flesh of something wicked. Besides, all that sparring get boring eventually. We gotta eviscerate something, before we all go insane."
Cole gives a grin. "You sure you're not an Ahroun, or at least a galliard? Because that was a good example of what I'd say."
Todd shakes his head. "Nah. But a Ragabash should be a good scout and assassin. We all need to kick ass. Its just we kick ass from way in the back, with you Ahrouns and Galliards between us and the enemy." He smirks, and points. "You are my friend, because fomori and such must go through you to get to me. And getting past Ahrouns and galliards isn't easy."
Cole chuckles bitterly. "Oh, I don't know. Two coyote fomori nearly did. If Megan hadn't shown up, I'd have been one dead cub. But yeah. You stay in back and stab from a distance. I'll kick some ass up front."
Todd shrugs. "We're cubs. Until we Rite, we're not expected to auto-kick the ass of any fomori that swings by, much less two of the fuckers." He nods, and pats Cole's shoulder. "Hey, did you want me to make you a weapon or something?"
Cole considers that for a second. "Yeah, actually. Thanks. What do you think you could make easy, that wouldn't weight half a ton?"
Todd pauses to think a moment. "Well, a short spear would be rather light. Defensive and offensive as well..." He shakes his head a moment. "I can't make blades, you know. That’s smithing. A barbed flail would be hella painful, and strip skin right off the bone. A spiked club is heavy, but that is the point, right? A spiked hammer is shorter..."
Cole considers the alternatives for a moment, grinning at the thought. "Huh. That's allot to think about. Maybe a short spear? Seems like a useful weapon."
Todd nods. "I throw those fuckers. Though they are very easy to use when toe-to-toe. It is important to never doubt the power of a pointy stick. Right?" He smiles, and nods. "Fuck, I've got a couple of basic one laying around. Take a pipe, cut it at a really extreme angle-bam. A spear. Pretty sharp, don't worry about losing it-easy enough to make another. Plus, its hollow, so when you stab something, it bleeds out."
Cole lets out a laugh. "Damn, you're one vicious bastard. Nice idea, though. Do they throw right, though, if they're hollow?"
Todd smiles and shrugs. "I'm not vicious! Just serious about killing fomori. The faster it dies, the less damage it does, right? And yeah, they throw fine. I think they actually stay up longer, as I have to aim a bit lower to hit spot on."
Cole nods. "Exactly. Dead fomori are good. Oh, and one pointer I'll give you. If a fomori ever wraps a tentacle around your leg, and then gnaws beneath that tentacle, let the tentacle stay. It makes a natural, Wyrm-ridden tourniquet!"
Todd nods. "Useless information. A fomori will never touch me. Cause I'll kill them while they are distracted killing you. You jive?" He makes a face that clearly shows that last statement was a joke, through and through.
Cole snorts, but can't help grinning. "Yeah, that works. Man, I hope we get a better Rite than the one Megan told me about. Hers took almost a month. She had a vow of silence for the whole month, and had to do favors for other tribes, without being able to tell them what she was doing. Then, she had to dodge spears thrust at her when she was buried up to her chest in the dirt."
Todd snorts, in a skeptical way. "I'd almost call bullshit on that, but I'm afraid too. I wouldn't worry, though. Generally, from what I've been told, we can only die on Rite if we are extremely stupid or unlucky. Or Get. They send cubs on suicide missions, I hear."
Cole shrugs. "Hey, I'd believe her on that. I've seen her at work, and she kicks some ass. But anyway, I think I'm gonna crash out for the night. Talk to you later?"
Todd shrugs. "Sure. So a short spear it is?"
Cole nods, pushing himself up. "Yeah, if you would. See you tomorrow at training."

#13: I think Yi's turning Cantonese I really think so!

Sun, 28 May 2006 02:02:17 GMT

Suggested Listening: The Animals' House of the Rising Sun

((This scene takes place on the porch of the farmhouse))

Cole approaches the farmhouse from the direction of the Grotto, pausing when he notes the number of people gathered on the porch.
"Like I said." Dakota reminds with a smile. "Our primary role is building relationships with them. With those relationships, we ask them for favors, such as using them for tools when we need their help against the Wyrm, or other such tasks. We pay them back of course. We do not take selfishly from them."
Alicia waves to Cole from the bench, sprawled out lazily, rubbing her stomach slowly. "Hey Cole." She says with a grin on her face, then pats the spot next to her for Yi, now that it’s vacant.
Jamethon remains sitting where he is, shifting his gaze to look off down the road now, silently.
Yi acts on the opportunity to shift away from her proximity to the Get Theurge, but at the same time, doesn't choose to sit. Rather, the Ragabash leans lightly along the porch railing, an equidistant space from both Alicia and Jamethon. Her eyes travel back to the undecided cub, listening to Dakota talk about the spirits.
Mara thinks it over. "So, what do you recommend I work on? What kind of skills am I going to need?"
Cole lifts his arm as he move on up. He's definitely favoring his left leg, and has a definite limp to him, and his right arm looks like undercooked hamburger, but at least he's ambulatory. "Heya, Alicia, everyone."
"Well Mara, I can take you into the Umbra when the moon gets a bit fuller." Dakota offers with a smile. "That way you can get a first hand look of what you will be an adept at. Also, the greatest skill a Theurge needs is 'patience'." She says. "Spirits aren't like you and me. They don't think with a full brain. They have their own language, their own mannerisms and they are very simple entities. Sometimes you have to take things slow with them to understand each other." She flashes a quick grin. "It will take awhile for you to learn the language of the spirits, and I can help you understand and comprehend them during our lessons if you wish it. Just have an open mind, and a great deal of respect for them, for the spirits make up thousands of years worth of growth and they are wise, noble creatures."
"I'd like that," says Mara. "As for patience, I like to think I do okay. I mean, I work on it pretty hard."
Jamethon simply continues to sit and stare down the road, lost in thought and silence.
"Hey Cole, snag some bench and rub the tummy." Alicia says with a slight grin on her face as she pats the spot next to her, continuing to massage her stomach. "I got a bun in the oven."
Cole gives a lopsided grin as he trundles on up to sit down on the bench. "That's a congratulations situation, unless I' missing some bit of etiquette. So, congrats." He holds out his hand. "Will I get good luck, like a Treasure Troll, or something?" He gives Alicia's stomach a pat.
Nodding her head, Dakota grins. "Good. How about sometime during the half moon then? You and I? I can introduce you to a few spirits, help you recognize what each one is and the roles they play, and if we're lucky." She says, trying to hold the cub in suspense. "You can even meet our totem, the great Stag."
Alicia grins wryly at the patting and purrs softly to herself as she closes her eyes. "OH, maybe if you rub my feet you will." She says teasingly with a laugh, then winks to Cole. "It’s a congratulation situation. My husband and I finally got around to having one. I think we should have waited until /after/ the Great Hunt, but, what can ya do, right?"
Yi's gaze passes over Cole and the cub's injuries as he sits, apparently not recognizing him. "What happened to you?" she asks finally, assessing the wounds.
"Really? Is that his official title?" Mara grins. "Is there a slightly nifty Stag as well? But, yeah, I'd like that. I've only been to the Umbra once, and didn't really get to do much."
Dakota chuckles. "There are a number of Stag spirits. It’s just that our pack follows Stag, so, to be boastful, I say he's great." She says with a wink. "Well, when I take you to the Umbra, we'll do a lot of things."
Mara stands up from her chair. "Thanks. Since I don't belong to any Tribe, I can get training form anyone. And I mean to take advantage of that, believe me. But I should get going. I have chores to do."
Cole smiles at Alicia. "I don't need luck that badly just yet," he teases. "But I'll keep it in mind, before my Rite if the offer's still open." He's quiet a moment before answering Yi's question. He frowns. "Combat training. Megan-rhya and I each took down a coyote fomori. But you should see the other guys." A faint smile.
Alicia laughs softly and nods, glancing Cole over for a moment. "Want me to heal those wounds for you or is Megan gonna get an Ahroun to give you the warrior's rite of scarring?"
Yi ahs quietly, eyes traveling to one of the more serious looking ones - like the cub's right arm. "I suppose it should be as expected. More importantly though, coyote fomori?"
Heading inside to say good night to Mara, Dakota disappears through the door, closing it behind her.
Cole smirks wryly. "Well, maybe the rite thing's an option. But Megan said," And his voice rises a touch, a passable imitation of Megan's voice "If you get those wounds healed, I'm going to kick your ass for wasting Gaia's gifts on something so inconsequential. End quote." Another look to Yi. "Yeah. Two of them that we found. They were testing the limits of a pack of Kinfolk's territories. They had tentacles in their shoulders. And bad attitudes."
Alicia wiggles her fingers teasingly at Cole. "Ahhhh'm gonna heeeeaaalll yoooou." She threatens, leaning over playfully, but not close enough to touch him.
Yi's face crimps on one side in an amused smirk at the Megan imitation, but she nods at the cub's story. "As well you shouldn't worry about healing. But, I would worry if those wounds don't heal quickly. It means there was more to those fomori than you think."
Cole leans back, grinning. "Just as long as you stand between me and Megan-rhya." He adds in a stage whisper "I'm reasonably sure she wouldn't try to kick my ass by going through a pregnant woman." He clears his throat. "Ah, I wouldn't worry, then. You should have seen me a couple of nights ago. My arm wasn't on by much, and my leg was broken. Not fun. Now..." He presents his arm and wiggles his fingers.
Alicia giggles and wiggles her fingers again. "Well, another night or two in Glabro and you'll be spiffing." She says, and then relaxes back into the bench, sighing happily to herself.
Cole nods. "Yeah. I'm just coming back to the house to pick up some eats, then spending it in the Grotto."
Yi nods again slightly, looking amused by the conversation between the galliard and the cub. It reminds her of something. "Why not eat here?"
Cole shrugs. "I just figured a dinner under the stars sounded fun. It's a nice night to be out, too."
Yi nods at that. "A picnic under the stars," she murmurs, a smile touching her lips. "So, you are a full moon auspice?"
Cole blinks, and shakes his head. "Nope. I'm a gibbous moon, a Galliard."
Yi ohs, pushing off the railing in a moment of awkwardness, brow arching at the cub as she tilts her head in a wolfish gesture. "I'm sorry. I just thought, well, since you had been combat training, and..." she leaves off, turning that train around. "I'm Yi. A Ragabash, of the Bone Gnawers. A pleasure to meet you." Her head dips once in the greeting tradition.
Cole smiles at you, seemingly not put off by the momentary awkwardness. "Brian Cole, Duck-To-Water, Galliard cub of the Fianna. Of the Sept of the Hidden Walk." He speaks the greeting he's been taught dutifully, then relaxes. "But everyone calls me Cole. Nice to meet ya. And yeah. Megan's really concentrating on teaching me everything I might need to know."
"A Fianna cub," Yi echoes, nodding again once the full introduction is said. "I see. Perhaps you can give Mara a bit of your impression on how it is to be one of the Fianna, sometime. She seems to remain rather undecided." At the mention, the Gnawer glances in through the farmhouse window.
Cole follows Yi's glance, offering a smile. "Yeah, I was with her when she was checked for a Kinfetch spirit. She was bummed about it. I guess she still is? I offered her a sport in the best tribe ever, but she didn't take it." A half-grin.
Yi ahs softly, eyes still directed towards the inside of the farmhouse. "How about you? Were you found with a spirit?" The Ragabash asks out of curiosity, as to her it's always interesting to learn about the lives of others.
Cole nods, happy to talk to someone after two more or less lonely days at the Grotto, healing. "That's how they said they found me. I have..had a Kinfetch watching over me. And if you're in the Umbra, you can see the Fianna mark on me. It glows. It's actually pretty nifty." He lifts a hank of hair from over his right eye, tapping his brow.
Yi hmms at the cub's forehead. Obviously she can't see anything now, but the Gnawer's expression is curious nonetheless. She smiles a bit. "Like Harry Potter."
Cole winces. "Hadn't thought of that," he observes, letting his hair slip back down. "Make sure you don't mention that to anyone else. I'd hate to end up with a name like Seeker, and have it come from that." He grins.
Yi bites her tongue, and then sucks her lips in to suppress the laugh that wants to come out. "I'll be sure to tell him you said that," she says, mentioning the Warder.
Cole notices the laugh, and his grin grows. "Traitor," he accuses, playfully. "You're a Bone Gnawer?"
Yi holds up a hand, her smile playful. "Hey, I didn't say I would tell him everything," the Gnawer says, trying to manipulate her expression to something less obvious. "Yes, I am one of them, though not particularly the same. I suppose you could say I am one in essence."
Jamethon is still sitting on the porch, still silent, still looking down the road as if he expects to see something.
Cole tilts his head, a lupine characteristic he's slowly starting to take on. He seems to have forgotten Jamethon's even there. "How so?"
Yi mms softly, eyeing the top of the porch in thought. "Well, where I am from originally, things are different in some ways. The Bone Gnawers are not called Bone Gnawers, and neither are all the shapeshifters we know Garou."
Jamethon suddenly pushes himself to his feet and looking to Yi he states firmly, as if teacher to student. "Answer the boy, Three-Blades. The real answer."
Cole looks confused. "Pardon me? What are you called, then? And...there are other shapeshifters? Like what? Like lions, and tigers, and bears? Oh my!"
Yi glances back to Jamethon as the Get speaks, her own flash of confusion skittering over the pedantics. Her eyes narrow slightly, but then resume normalcy as she turns back to the cub. "The family is called 'Wang Tong.' And as for others... well, you could say that all legends have some truth to them." Another look is sent back to Jamethon, as if the Ragabash were trying to read him.
Erika stomps through the house, slams open the front door with almost too much strength as she notices the crowd gathered around the porch. She rolls her eyes, almost as if she is trying to avoid everyone but somehow ends up getting tossed back into the mosh pit again. The shiner under eye is hardly a blemish on her skin. "Emma punched me in the face.... the bitch." she murmurs, without even thinking about the conversation that is already taking place.
Jamethon is looking once more down the road before Yi looks to him again, his looking away from her something she missed. He is still standing, but his expression is not even calm, it’s non-existent, as if nothing is passing through his mind. Suddenly though, with Erika's appearance he snaps out of it and turns to look towards the Philodox. "Did you deserve it?" He inquires.
Cole perks up, despite his weariness. "Can you tell me some more about those legends?"
Owen had been in the kitchen, rummaging for a beer, when Erika stomped out of the house. Finding a brand he agrees with, he makes his way outside as well.
"Most likely," Erika replies, being the one to run her tongue off and pay for it later. She rubs her jaw with her thumb as she looks up at the towering Jamethon.
Jamethon shrugs at her answer and looks back down the road with, "Where is he?" A question that seems to bother him.
Yi was about to put in her agreement to tell the cub more, when Erika literally slams into the conversation. The congregation of Get makes her pause there, and she scoots slightly off again, closer towards the porch steps. "Maybe some other time," she says to Cole, giving him a significant nod.
Cole looks over, and is about to spout off something akin to 'Hey, we were talking', when he sees the shiner and hears the conversation. He nods to Yi, managing to keep most of the disappointment from his features. "Alright."
Erika suddenly looks towards Yi as she realizes that she might have came in at the wrong moment. "Uhm..." The Philodox’s expression looks frustrated, but she is not about to make such an explosive exit.
Owen leans back against the door frame, taking a swig of beer and saying nothing for the moment.
Yi clears her throat the same way one would faced with an inelegant faux pas. "You are alright?" she asks the Philodox, trying to push voices back into conversation.
Jamethon seems to be lost in his exploration of the tree line down the road. "He should be... here..." he trails off as he turns his head to look over his shoulder and spies the Get Ahroun. ”Of course... he could be standing behind me. That would be ok too." He murmurs then gestures to both Erika and Owen, back into the Farmhouse. "Gotta talk to you too. Mind heading back inside?"
Erika nods her head to Yi, "Yeah... I am fine." she says.
Owen is surprised to find himself being a sneaky bastard. He shrugs, then stands up away from the doorframe to walk back the way he just came from.
Yi looks back down the road as well as Jamethon continues to talk to himself, before she nods back to Erika. "Well, then, I am off." She looks to Cole, then. "I'll drop by again soon, and then I can tell you a little bit about the others." She smiles at that, before turning to make her way down the porch steps.
Cole clears his throat. "Uh, yeah. I'll walk you as far as I can before I have to head off." He seems to have forgotten his original goal in coming to the house at all. He limps off the porch, and starts down the road.

#12: Breakfast gets interesting!

Sun, 28 May 2006 01:49:35 GMT

Suggested Listening: Shinedown's cover of Simple Man

Farmhouse: Hallway and Living Room
All doorways in the front part of the house lead to the front hallway, a J-shaped area with the short tail starting at the stairs, the front door hitting the bottom curve, the doorless opening to the living room halfway up the long side, and the also doorless opening to the kitchen and dining room at the very top. The hall has a simple wooden floor, and decorated with a generic print of soft-colored flowers hanging on the wall to the right of the front door, and a tall table sitting under the print which serves as a place to toss keys. A closet under the stairs serves as a place to hang coats or to toss shoes.
The doorless opening to the living room is halfway up the side of the hall's J, and the word cozy might spring to mind when looking into is, as it seems to radiate comforting vibrations. A long couch sits against the south wall beneath a large bay window curtained only by sheers that manages to obscure the view in but only filters the day's light. A variety of out-of-date magazines are strewn atop a low coffee table; more neatly presented are the plethora of books filling the small bookshelves which line the eastern wall. Three chairs sit about the room, focused inward, to allow group conversations. Large floor pillows are stacked in one corner of the room, except one, which lies carelessly in the middle of the floor, apparently left out the last time it was used.
An opening in the northern end of the hallway allows access to the kitchen and dining room at the back of the house, while carpeted stairs twist up at the other end of the hall, leading to the second floor. A door at the base of the J lets out to the front porch.

Jervis is currently...lying on the floor, apparently in a very deep state of sleep, despite the fact that his eyes are wide open. Some thoughtful person seems to have placed a pillow underneath his head. If it weren't for the fact that he's breathing, one might almost be drawn to conclude that he's rather dead.
Cole enters the house in search of food, not feeling good enough to try and hunt up his food in the unfamiliar woods. The wounds the cub sported for the last several days are nearly gone at this point. He doesn't limp, and his arm only looks a little torn up.
The front door slips open quietly and Emma walks in. She stops to look at the prone man, one eyebrow lifting up. She clears her throat as she then spots the other inhabitant. "Is he okay?" she nods towards the oddly positioned man.
Cole has to shrug. "He looks kinda dead. Aside from the breathing thing. I just came in here and saw him." He eyes the way to the kitchen with longing, but pauses in the light of this new mystery.
Emma gives a nod and moves a little closer to the sleeping man. She bends down a bit to study him, and when satisfied he is not dead, stands up taller again. "I'm Emma Mahler, Cliath Ahroun of the Fenrir, called Dances-on-Coals. Who are you?" Her tone is friendly enough, though her eyes rest heavily on the other for now too.
Cole offers a smile in return. "Brian Cole, Galliard cub of the Fianna. They call me Duck-To-Water."
Emma chuckles slightly, "Duck-to-Water? Taking things well are you? What about him, do you know who he is?" Her head again nods down towards the other.
Jervis blinks. Slowly. Then blinks again. The movement visible upon very close attention.
Cole gives a grin. "That's what Megan-rhya says, at least." He glances down at Jervis, then shrugs. "Don't know, really. I'm guessing he's not happy, whoever he is."
Emma offers a thoughtful hmm, and looks to the kitchen. "Well I suppose the saying holds true, and we should let sleeping dogs lie. Headed to the kitchen?" Without waiting for his answer, she heads that way herself.
Jervis is laying on the floor, still, pillow behind his head, sleeping apparently. But with eyes...kinda wide open.
The rumbling sound of a motorcycle can faintly be heard coming up the land and into the driveway from the inside of the house. The purring of the engine then stalls and cuts off immediately. A few moments later, Aubrey opens the door, carrying with her a box of about two-dozen donuts and a gallon of generic orange juice. The breakfast of champions, no doubt. "Hello?" she says, as she peeks in through the door. She hasn't seen Jervis lying on the floor yet.
Cole nods. "Yeah, I just headed that way to get some eats. But now I'm sorta curious." He peers at Jervis, and then looks up as Aubrey arrives. "...I love you, Aubrey." Cole only has eyes for the doughnuts and juice, despite declarations of romantic intent.
Emma pauses to see who is heading in, then slips her hands into her back pockets. "Well, almost like breakfast in bed. At least for this guy here it would be. Too bad he's sleeping. More for us." She grins then, giving a nod to the woman as she enters before reaching out to help bring the goodies in. "How'd you get this here on the bike?"
Jervis continues the slow blink action. No other movement yet, save for breathing. His eyes stay more or less wide open, clearly not yet conscious.
"Poor guy..?" Aubrey questions before she notices Jervis and frowns. The Fianna quiets her voice, not to disturb the Silver Fang too much. "Very carefully," she answers Emma with a friendly smile. Then she hands the doughnuts right to Cole and the gallon of juice to Emma. "Take these into the kitchen and don't eat them all," she lightly warns.
Emma takes the juice and nods, "I think I can manage that." She turns into the kitchen, setting the juice down on the table while she goes to fetch glasses.
Cole salutes Aubrey. "Thanks." He moves into the kitchen, coming back with three doughnuts. "Mah sa'vyuh," he mumbles around a bite of the treat, ravenous.
Aubrey perches on the arm of the chair, looking towards Jervis with her eyes wide and curious. "Was he like this when you both came in?" she asks Cole and Emma.
Emma returns with three glasses of OJ, carried carefully together. "Yah, didn't stir at all. Don't even know who he is." She offers Cole a glass, then Aubrey. "Thanks for the treats."
Jervis slowly increases the blinking rate. His eyes roll up to the front, and he squints.
Cole takes a glass, smiling. "Thanks, Emma." He sets the doughnuts down carefully, and takes a sip. "Yeah, he's a mystery ma-...speak of the devil. Hey, guy, you awake?"
Aubrey nods to Emma, about to explain when she notices that Jervis seems to be coming out of it. The Fianna elects to remain quiet for a moment, glancing towards Emma has she hands her a glass and nods her head in thanks.
Emma takes a bite out of the donut, watching the man as well. Oooohhh all eyes on Jervis!
Jervis blinks some more. Conscious, not entirely cognizant. He turns his head a little in Aubrey's direction, perhaps recognizing her voice more than what he can see of her--which more of a cloudy mass of color. "Au'ree?" he mumbles.
Cole looks over at Aubrey. "Sounds like he's got your number. You don't know the guy?" He sits down on the couch, still eating his breakfast.
Aubrey remains where she is, not moving as Jervis directs his head towards her. The Fianna eyes Cole for a moment, but manages to smile softly before her attention returns to the Silver Fang. "Yeah, it's me. You alright there buddy?" she asks. Then she quickly explains to Cole, "We were cubs together."
Emma ohs softly at this news, and sits her butt down on the edge of the couch, watching as the sleeper awakens.
Jervis squints more, effort going into recollecting even the tiniest bits of sapience. Slowly, shakily, he sits up, muttering slurred nonsense. "ruth'r-ruckin'birtch..." He pauses again, and then looks curiously at his upper forearm, the underside having been hidden by his sleeping position. A thin...black...thing seems to be stuck in it. The object looks like the graphite stick from a mechanical pencil. Casually, and lazily, he removes it, then allows it to slip from his fingers. He then tenses, as if trying to do something. That something obviously fails, and he suddenly looks a bit frustrated.
Cole looks confused, trying to decipher the sleep-speech. "Ah, alright. Sounds happy to be awake," he observes, quietly, still chewing.
Aubrey watches Jervis, eyebrow lifted although she does not seem to say anything much to the Silver Fang. "Quite," she replies to Cole with a genuine smile.
Another bite of her donut is taken, munch munch. Her eyes watch the man very curiously. "Hey, want a donut? There is a Bavarian Crème in there still." Emma shrugs, still watching.
Jervis tenses again. He again looks sleepily frustrated. He sluggishly turns his gaze to the two new faces, or more specifically, their voices. The back to Aubrey's direction. "G'roo?" he seems to ask, motioning his head in Emma and Cole's direction.
Cole smiles back to Aubrey, before answering Jervis' question pre-preemptively. "Yeah, man. Brian Cole, Duck-To-Water. Fianna Galliard cub."
"Cole is a Fianna Cub and Emma is a Get of Fenris Cliath..." Aubrey explains to Jervis. "You did rite just recently, haven't you Emma?" she asks, trying to remember when the younger Fenrir had gone through her Rite of Passage.
Emma rolls her eyes a little at the cub, "Zealous much?" Then she straightens up, "Emma Mahler, yah, like she said, and yah, few months ago. So who is the farmhouse bum?" Another bite of donut. Munch!
Jervis doesn't seem to really listen past Aubrey's affirmative sounding response to his question. He then mumbles. "Good." And tenses again. Third time's the charm, apparently. Success!
Jervis stands, pearly white crinos bared for all to see. Not that he much cares. A split second, and all cognizance and personality is returned, seemingly, even in this bestial state. ~Much better~. He then goes about shifting back down to Homid.
Cole smirks at Emma. "Hey, I'm proud, what can I say?" He seems unphased, then looks back down to Jervis. And then up to him. And then down again. "...Silver Fang," he ventures questioningly.
Aubrey chuckles softly, her eyes gazing around to those around her before returning back to Jervis. "Feeling better?" she asks.
Emma lets out a sigh, "Right." She puts the donut in her mouth to offer a faint 'golf clap' to the Garou. "What's the encore?" Her hand comes back up to take the unbitten portion of the donut out.
Jervis smirks a little at Cole. "Give the kid a prize..." He then turns to Emma. "The world's shortest Silver Fang introduction: Jervis Michaels, Iron Eyes, Ragabash Cliath to the whiteys." He doesn't answer Aubrey, but merely nods to her, inferring that his little performance here is answer enough. He then goes rummaging through his topcoat for something.
Cole grins, giving a little bow of his head. "Nice to meet ya. Hey...do you always look like you're in a coma, or is that a recent development," he asks, wryly.
Layne has connected.
Emma finishes off her donut, nodding to Jervis. Her eyes fall on Cole with a dry smirk as she shakes her head. She remains quiet though, and offers a shrug of her shoulders. "You just recently returned here? I don't recall meeting you before."
Aubrey looks up at Jervis from her perch on the arm of the chair without saying much. She does manage to smile a little at Cole's comment, however.
Layne has disconnected.
Jervis finishes rummaging, and retrieves a pack of English Ovals. He turns to Emma, "Yeah, recently returned." He completely ignores Cole. He brings a cigarette up to his lips, and heads toward the porch door, "I'll be a moment," he says, lighting up as he exits. If one listens closely before the door slams shut, you can hear him mutter, pleased-sounding: "Ah. Mother's milk."
Cole shrugs, going back to eating his breakfast. "Hmm. Well, looks like everyone's good, now," he observes.
Aubrey rolls back her shoulders as she stands to walk towards the kitchen to snatch up a frosted pastry or two for herself. She returns back into the living room, chewing away as she looks over towards Cole and swallows. "Is Megan-rhya putting you on your Rite of Passage soon, Cole?" she asks curiously to the cub.
Emma eyes the cub and nods blankly. She listens as the Fianna talk, and keeps an eye out on the porch as well. "Oh I'm sure he is just completely ready for it. Should send him off now, right this second even!" She huffs, "How long you been here anyway cub?"
Cole takes a sip of OJ and swallows his own food. "Yeah, looks like it. She said within a moon or tw-" He clears his throat and looks over at Emma and pauses for a moment, silent. "Anyway. Yeah, one or two moons, Megan-rhya says." When he's finished, he turns back. "Three moons, give or take."
Jervis pages to the room: Dun' wait on me.
Aubrey looks towards Emma and chuckles softly. Then, she looks towards Cole and nods her head. "It sounds about right that you should be almost ready to go through the rite." she replies. "Gosh, mine seemed so long ago..."
Emma narrows her gaze more now, "So you've been here three months, and she's giving you another couple months before you rite?" Her hardened smirk grows colder, "Interesting. Must be nice to be Fianna under a Fianna Alpha." She turns then to take her empty glass to the kitchen, her head shaking.
Cole ruffles, glaring after Emma as she walks away. He turns back and mouths 'What's her problem?' to Aubrey. "What was yours like," he asks, aloud.
Aubrey looks to the Get of Fenris for a moment before she turns her gaze back to the Fianna cub and gives a shrug of her shoulders. "Six months to prepare is a short time, but you have been trained fairly thoroughly. I wouldn't worry too much about it, if I were you." she replies. Then, "I think that would be a long story to tell for another day," she answers. "I do believe that you have chores to get to, am I correct?"
Cole frowns, looking down at his demolished breakfast. "...Probably. I've been living in the Grotto for the last four days, so I guess I might owe some." He stands up, picking up his glass. "Well, I'll see you around, then, Aubrey?"
Aubrey holds out her empty glass for Cole to take. "Of course," she replies. "Now, I have got some patrolling to do." She gives a wink to the cub. "Be good and listen well."
The back door of the house opens and shuts as Emma must have slipped out.
Cole smiles. "Of course." He takes the glass, and sets it in the kitchen. "See ya."