New Guardian

[hazlogs]

Center of the Great Wheel

It is currently 15:32 Pacific Time on Tue Jun 10 1997.
Currently on this gusty and hot spring midafternoon in the general St. Claire 
  area, it is 79 degrees Fahrenheit (26.1 degrees Celsius). The wind is coming 
  from the west-northwest at 10.2 mph. The ground is normal. Skies are hazy 
  with no chance of precipitation.
Currently the moon is in the waxing Crescent Moon phase (34% full).

Erik emerges from the eastern woods, pausing at the treeline to kneel, head 
  lowered, his words a soft murmur. Only after this minor ritual does the 
  Metis rise and move into the center, his body language still containing all 
  the awe one might show in a grand cathedral.
On the southern curve, Randall heads into the center.
Randall has arrived.
Randall leaves Finds the Way resting in the shadows of the trees in the height 
  of the afternoon's heat. Himself in manform, he comes towards the Table 
  Stone.
Erik pauses, turning to duck his head to the Shadow Lord, respectfully.
"Remaining on call here, I see," comments Randall. "Yes, I heard about the 
  Guest giving you this promotion..."
Erik shifts his weight slightly. "The... Warder agreed to it, too." The 
  Fianna's voice still holds a touch of startlement at the idea.
Randall says "Of course it's Dishonourable to speak ill of one's elders, but 
  you may find his thoughts on the matter somewhat mercurial. It is but a week 
  since he told me there was no need of Guardians, and formally dismissed the 
  remainder of my pack from duty."
Erik indeed seems uncomfortable by the talk against the Athro, and he shrugs 
  vaguely. "I... just want to be, um, useful."
"Yes?" asks Randall in a 'do go on' tone.
Erik spreads gloved hands. "...Strong-Tree was right. Perhaps not about... 
  about being a guardian. I've never been a guardian before. But, well. She 
  was right. I should be doing /something/."
Randall smiles thinly and agrees, "Well yes, if your unique disadvantages 
  preclude you from so many things where contact with the outside world is 
  even a possibility, I suppose your options are somewhat narrowed down for 
  you."
Erik nods ruefully, rubbing the back of his neck with one gloved hand. "Yes, 
  um, they are." He pauses. "I don't suppose, sir, that you have any advice?"
Randall says "Well aside from seeing myself and the others of the former 
  Cerberus when we've come by the shelters, what have you ever seen of the way 
  your first Caern or former Caerns were policed?"
Erik hesitates a moment, thinking back. "Very little," he admits. "I was kept 
  away from the caern until I was old enough for my Rite of Passage, almost, 
  and then it was always considered better if I just kept out of the way."
Randall frowns a little, and gestures vaguely with one hand as he asks, "So 
  you were confined to a place the equivalent of our farmhouse?"
Erik nods. "The house was owned jointly by members of my uncle's pack. It 
  was... rather out of the way."
Randall grits his teeth a little and summarizes, "So: no precedents. So what 
  has DeRath actually told you so far?"
Erik shifts his weight from one foot to the other and lists what he's been 
  told so far, mostly a sketch of schedule and procedure.
Randall sits down while he listens, folding his legs up limberly beneath 
  himself as he finds the partial shade to the east of the Stone.
Erik has, it seems a good memory for detail, and leaves out nothing that he's 
  already been told. At least the mule isn't /stupid/.
Randall, at an appropriate moment draws on his own background. "In the Sept 
  where I was raised back in the Old Country, and at the one I joined for some 
  years here in the States, there was a pack at full compliment 'on call' 
  within two minutes of the Centre of the Caern right round the clock."
Erik folds his arms across his chest, head tited, his manner attentive.
Randall continues, "This is something... which does not apply here. Certainly 
  it is something in which the Warder can hardly expect you to act alone. Were 
  a hostile Moon Bridge to open here in the Caern, even a staunch pack might 
  not be adequate defence, but at least they could hold anything short of a 
  full assault until further aid could arrive. I think in remaining here the 
  greatest service one can perform is to be prepared to howl your lungs out 
  and hope to sell your life as dearly as possible."
Erik sighs quietly. "That's the conclusion I drew, as well."
Near the Pool, Ed appears in a glimmer of light.
Randall regards Erik for a long moment from where he sits on the eastern side 
  of the Table Stone, and nods a couple of times.
Near the Pool, Ed steps throw the Gauntlet, and shifts back down into homid as 
  he glances around.
Near the Pool, Ed contorts and blurs as he is transformed.
Near the Pool, Ed ripples and changes, slipping into Homid form.
Erik sighs again, the sound almost inaudible. Hands into his pockets, he turns 
  toward the pool, ducking his head toward the new arrival before moving his 
  glum attention toward the treeline.