More Guardian Fallout

[hazlogs]

The Sept Compound(#2075RAM)
Contents:
Shea
Steven
Derrick
Anne
Dusty
Current Compound Residents (Updated: Jun  8)
Windchimes
Obvious exits:
Ash Grove  Groundskeeper's Shelter  Faint Trail  

It is currently 12:44 Pacific Time on Fri Jun 13 1997.
Currently on this calm and hot spring midday in the general St. Claire area, 
  it is 77 degrees Fahrenheit (25.0 degrees Celsius). The wind is coming from 
  the southeast at 3 mph. The ground is wet and it is drizzling. Skies are 
  overcast with a definite chance of precipitation.
Currently the moon is in the waxing Half Moon phase (54% full).

Steven chuckles softly. "It's been so long since I worked the earth. Back at 
  my da's farm we had mostly wheat but my ma kept a small garden around in the 
  back yard. When I was smaller she'd take me back there and have me weed the 
  rows." He grins, eyes slightly distant. "That was a much simpler time for 
  me."
Erik steps back into the compound, pausing briefly at the treeline to glance 
  around.
Derrick says "I did some gardenin' back at home. Nothin' huge, 've course, but 
  I think I could expand that a bit... I guess we couldnt' have stuff like 
  cows there, though."
Derrick looks slightly disappointed.
Steven's expression turns from wistful to vague anger in a heartbeat's time. 
  ~Metis. Come here. We need to talk,~ he says roughly, eyeing the other 
  Fianna Galliard.
Shea grins at Derrick. "You'd do better t'wish for sheep an' goats, lad. An' 
  even they'd have a rough time of it, when the moon got fat."
Anne waves and vanishes northwards, steps quiet as usual despite the spring in 
  her step.
Anne has disconnected.
Erik sighs quietly, the sound more resigned than anything else. Shifting the 
  strap of the violin case on his shoulder, he moves toward Steven. "Yes?"
Dusty stands up as the Fianna appear to begin talking amongst themselves, and 
  withdraws to the edge of the clearing.
Derrick pauses in the middle of taking out his knife. "Heh. Yeah. Get sheep, 
  and some of the lupes might... forget, sometimes. But either way, y'think 
  they'd work at all?"
Steven levels a finger at the other Galliard and says, through a clenched jaw, 
  ~What do you have to say for yourself? You've been bullied into doing an 
  extremely foolish thing. Do you honestly think you can serve this sept as a 
  Guardian?~
Derrick clenches his jaw, picks up a stick, and starts whittling it somewhat 
  more fervently than might be necessary.
Shea's shoulders rise and fall. "With rich enough soil, an' a good hand t'tend 
  them, plants might do well. If you can keep feet an' cigarette butts out of 
  their beds, while they take hold. That'd be your challenge. It's not too 
  late for some things t'bear fruit, yet."
Stormcloud enters the compound.
Stormcloud has arrived.
Derrick waves his knife. "Tomatoes'd work. We couldn't have corn this year, or 
  pumpkins, but there's plenty of other stuff... Carrots, celery, radishes, 
  that sort of thing. Onions, maybe even. They'll work fine, if I get 'em 
  tomorrow... And talk t'Mark. I think he's still headin' things up there, 
  right?"
Erik remains silent for a moment, and when he does speak, his voice holds a 
  note of stubborness. Maybe it's the waxing moon, or the stress of the whole 
  guardian incident. Maybe he's just tired, or it's a combination of things. 
  But he answers Steven with a hint of uncharacteristic ire, shifting smoothly 
  to the Garou tongue and speaking it with no hint of a sore throat. ~I 
  offered my services to the Warder, as Strong-Tree rightfully pointed out I 
  should. The Warder chose to make me a guardian, and that is what I shall do, 
  until I'm told otherwise.~
Shea nods. "T'the best of my knowledge. Has he got his voice back yet? I need 
  t'have a talk with some about it."
Derrick hesitates. "I... Well, I don't think so. Last time I saw him, he 
  hadn't, anyway."
Shea tsks. "Won't do. Not at all."
Derrick shrugs, in the middle of a whittle. "Last I talked to him, I think he 
  was still assumin' he could get some Warper to deal with it."
Stormcloud makes his way into the clearing, peering around and keeping to the 
  edge of things.
Shea frowns. "That doesn't make any sense, t'go ask for help from a Warper, 
  when it's a warper that cost him the voice in the first place."
Steven's temper flares. ~Then for the love of Gaia, Metis, what can you do? 
  You certainly aren't going to spread good will being what you are. You can't 
  fight very well, and this is first damn time I've not seen you slink away 
  from a confrontation. When you're standing across from a bane or some other 
  Wyrm servant, how will you react then? Tell me that? What will you do for 
  the Caern then? Die? No. This place is too precious for that. And if not 
  that, then think about how this makes our tribe look. Think about that, then 
  for a moment? I begin to wonder if you can ever break this streak of 
  foolishness that seems to follow you around.~ He backs up and turns his head 
  away, spitting.
Stormcloud finds himself snorting at Shea's comment, but does not bother to 
  correct as his attention strays towards the other Fianna.
Derrick makes another rather too fervent cut with his knife, and doesn't 
  answer Shea quite yet, his jaw tightening.
Erik again remains silent for a moment before answering, long fingers 
  clenching at his sides. ~That is for the Warder to decide, sir,~ he says, 
  stiffly. ~Not I. I do as I am instructed.~
Derrick takes a breath, and answers Shea, "There're 
  Warpers who work for th' Wyrm, but there's good ones, too. Kinda like Garou, 
  sort of. So I don't see the problem in going t'a Warper who doesn't work for 
  the Wyrm, or am I missing something?"
Steven takes a deep breath through his nose and then exhales slowly, narrowing 
  his eyes. ~As you no doubt know, Metis, I have Challenged Strong-Tree over 
  this ridiculous affair. If I win, she will train you or take your place. If 
  she wins, I will quit harrassing you.~ He pauses, but continues, his voice 
  starting quiet, but near thundering as he concludes. ~But rest assured, 
  Metis, if you are to be a Guardian, then you are going to be a worthwhile 
  one! To me, my sept, and my tribe.~
Shea arches an eyebrow. "If I'm cut with a blade, either dirty or clean, an' 
  the wound doesn't heal itself, is it wise, d'you think, t'lop off the bit 
  that's been cut with the same blade, t'take care of the problem?"
Derrick wrinkles his brow. "I wouldn't think it'd be analogous, but I'm no 
  healer. Who would you rather he talk to?"
Derrick blinks. ~I guess I got the story wrong then. I thought you folks went 
  up against one?~
Shea holds off her answer, to hear the response from Stormcloud.
Stormcloud scratches idly at his side. Yes and no. Warper, but had a spirit 
  possessing. Spirit alterd Talks-to-Ghosts and Defends-the-Wolves.
Erik is again silent for several seconds, regarding Steven with shadowed eyes. 
  Then he bows, stiffly and tensely. ~Of course, sir. Is that all?~ Stress 
  radiates from his voice, his posture.
"Huh." He looks to Shea, and asks, "So then talking to a Warper wouldn't be 
  like... recutting the wound?"
Derrick pages to Steven, Shea, Erik, Stormcloud, and Dusty: Er, Derrick does.
Shea purses her lips. "It'd be better then t'have healers tend t'him, an' see 
  if there's anythin' t'be done before anyone goes off assumin' that it was 
  either warper or spirit alone that stole his voice."
Derrick looks at Stormcloud. "I think he said he had?"
Steven says, ~That's all you have to say, Metis? That's it?~
Derrick's jaw clenches again.
Stormcloud looks back and forth between Shea and Derrick, working hard to keep 
  up with the English. He had, yes. Not injured Talks-to-Ghosts was. Changed.
Erik clears his throat slightly and lapses into Gaelic, weariness starting to 
  become dominant over the tired anger. */What more do you expect me to say, 
  sir? I follow orders./*
Derrick shrugs. ~Well... Shea was assuming we should try something along the 
  lines of Mother's Touch anyway. Yes, ma'am?~
Steven's reply is kind of strangled string of curses, clenching his fists, as 
  he turns away and limps off as quickly as he can toward the ash grove again.
Stormcloud fehs. Waste. Will work on him as well as this one.
"I was sayin' that we ought do everythin' in our power, bef..." Shea trails 
  off, and her eyes narrow, slightly, on Stormcloud. "Everyone's entitled to 
  their opinions o'course. There are diff'rent ways of healin', all the same. 
  He ought see a healer, before a mage. That's the end on it."
Erik remains standing as the other Galliard stomps off. Standing and
  silent.
Steven leaves, traveling down the path to the west.
Steven has left.
Stormcloud agrees, albeit tersely. This one simply doubts any here can help 
  him, although no disrespect is intended to our healers.
Derrick shrugs. ~Can't assume he hasn't already anyway.~
Shea says "No. An' you can't assume he has."
Shea waves a hand, and climbs to her feet. "It's Mark's decision, in the end. 
  Opinions are just that. Opinions."
Derrick says, ~Didn't say I was doing so. I was just sayin' what I'd heard 
  off've him.~
Shea nods, with a smile. "You'll excuse me, I hope." She turns to head off 
  down the path again.
Erik shudders suddenly and slumps down where he's standing, a bit away from 
  the fire. Pulling his knees to his chest, the Metis folds his arms on top of 
  them and buries his face in his arms.
Shea leaves the compound.
Shea has left.
Derrick watches Erik with some concern, but keeps whittling, not inruding.
Erik murmurs under his breath, a steady stream of quiet, stressed Gaelic, 
  muffled through his arms.
Only when Steven is gone does Dusty make any indication that he is here or 
  lsitening, and only then in the form of a motion to pulls his guitar case 
  towards him.
Derrick heaves a sigh and keeps whittling.
Stormcloud stands up, preparing to leave. He looks around the place is if for 
  the last time, then limps off.
Erik eventually stops mumbling to himself and lifts his head, shoulders 
  slightly hunched as he glances around. Very quietly, he says, "...Sorry."
Stormcloud leaves the compound.
Stormcloud has left.
Derrick looks ostentatiously around the Compound. "Don't really see anyone you 
  need to be sorry for, but I'll keep this one for sometime when you actually 
  need to apologize to me, maybe?"
Erik utters a weak, shaky laugh. "Um. If you prefer it, sir."
Derrick waves his knife absently. "That I do, sir, that I do..."
Erik laughs again, the unsteady titter of someone who's just survived, say, 
  the charge of a rabid bull.
Derrick gets up and throws his now sadly depleted whittling stick into the 
  fire, and grabs another log. He starts to say, "So, Erik..." and then trails 
  off. "Nevermind."
Erik's breathing eventually returns to normal. At hearing his name, he lifts 
  his hed and turns toward the Fang. "Er, yes?"
Derrick shakes his head. "I was just going to make small talk. Like askin' how 
  the actual Guardianing's going. But then I thought maybe I shouldn't bug 
  you. So I won't."
Cassandra enters the compound.
Cassandra has arrived.
Cassandra wanders down the trail and immediately heads for the fire, waving to 
  those present.
Erik takes off his hat, rubbing the top of his head through the mask. "Um, 
  well..." He pauses, nodding respectfully toward the Fury before turning back 
  to Derrick. "I, um, like it. Actually."
"Like what?" Cassandra inquires casually, pulling a box and a lighter from her 
  pocket. "An' d'you mind if I smoke?"
Erik erms, putting his hat back on his head. "Being a guardian, ma'am," he 
  replies, politely. And then, after a hesitation, "And... and, um, I'd rather 
  you didn't, ma'am."
Cassandra shrugs. "Cool." She tucks away the box and lighter with no further 
  fuss. "So you're a Guardian here?"
Erik spreads his hands in a vague gesture. "It seems so."
Cassandra nods. "Good luck to ya, then. Y'know, I don't think I know ya."
Shadow Eyes enters the compound.
Shadow Eyes has arrived.
Shadow Eyes pads into the Compound, tail wagging and tounge lolling.
Erik glances up at the new arrival and lifts a hand to the Gnawer in weary 
  greeting.
Shadow Eyes pads over to Erik, and nuzzles his leg. Hello. This one is glad to 
  see you. He gives Erik a friendly bump, and greets Cassandra also, wagging 
  his tail to her. Hello. It is good to see you again.
Cassandra grins at the new arrival. "What've you been up to?" she asks, 
  mock-warily.
Shadow Eyes lolls his tounge. This one has been in the woods recently, to talk 
  to Echen about the hosiptal scouting. This one has heard many things, out 
  here. Not much news from the city, save that Thunders Claws seems to have 
  found his new pack.
Erik reaches out absently and buries gloved fingers in the Gnawer's neck-ruff, 
  scritching.
Cassandra nods. "Cool. Jimmy asked me to pass the word too, but I ain't seen 
  him."
Shadow Eyes closes his eyes and raises his muzzle, giving little whining sound 
  of pleasure. He opens his eyes at Cassandra's statement. Yes, this one has 
  papers to give the Righ, with many numbers he will wish to know. I have been 
  hoping to run into him.
Cassandra snorts. "I think he crawled into a hole and pulled it in after him. 
  I'll keep lookin'."
Erik's scritching slows, his head tilting. "...Is there something wrong, Elan?"
Shadow Eyes looks up to Erik. Not much, no. He gives a little wolfly sigh. 
  Other than the hunt we all have sworn, against the killer of Shakes' son. 
  The things I have for Echen are numbers for weaver things. ~phones~ and such.
Shadow Eyes rubs up into Erik's skritching.
Cassandra stands up, shoving her hands in her pockets. "I'm gonna go find a 
  place t'smoke. Ctach ya on the flip side."
Shadow Eyes nods. Goodbye. I shall see you later.
Cassandra waves to both Garou, then turns and heads off into the weatern 
  forest.
Cassandra leaves, traveling down the path to the west.
Cassandra has left.
Erik murmurs quiet farewells to the Fury, then turns to Elan, rubbing behind 
  an ear. "You mentioned... Shakes? His son is dead?" Clearly, the Metis is 
  out of the information loop.
Shadow Eyes flicks his ears, yes. Someone came into our den while only his 
  wife was there, and killed his son, and hurt her greatly. Just for a few 
  minutes we left her, and she was attacked. Leaping-Wind found her, and the 
  child's body. She...still does not know, that he is dead. The young Gnawer 
  is clearly disturbed. I delivered him, with my own hands....
Shadow Eyes leans against Erik, weary of the past week.
Erik murmurs something quietly in Gaelic, horrified. Then, in English, "Good 
  Gaia..."
Shadow Eyes nuzzles the Fianna. I do not speak the island tounge very well... 
  he seems distant, then nods. Yes. This one was just talking to his packmate 
  Calls-Alone. He has ideas of what to do. He bumps Erik. Sometimes this one 
  wonders what will become of us all.
Erik sighs quietly. "If... if there's anything I can do..." He pauses. "I 
  can't leave the Bawn, though. I can't go out of the woods."
Shadow Eyes rubs him. It is enough to think of us, Sing-In-Shadow. His mood 
  seems somewhat restored, and he shakes his ruff. This one has heard you have 
  had good fortune? Become one of the Guardians? Does this mean you now have a 
  pack.
Erik shakes his head. "No pack. And I don't know if it can be called good 
  fortune."
Shadow Eyes seems curious. Ah. Because it has drawn the ire of fo- he coughs 
  slightly - the Fianna that were there last night?
Erik tilts his head to one side, curiously. Then he shrugs. "They have... a 
  point. I don't think I'm really qualified to be an effective guardian."
Shadow Eyes whuffles. Why not? How are your senses?
Erik shrugs. "As good as... as anyone's, I guess. But I'm not a very good 
  fighter, or anything. The best I can do is howl a warning."
Shadow Eyes bumps him. It is something you can learn. This one has been 
  improving his fighting skills for a few months now.
Erik's tone is doubtful. "Maybe."
Shadow Eyes wags his tail. Perhaps I could show you some things? This one has 
  learned many things of far eastern fighting.
Erik shakes his head, perhaps too quickly. "No, thank you. I, um. I really 
  don't like to fight."
Shadow Eyes seems to understand. Do you fear losing control? Or hurting 
  another?
You say "Um. No. I just get... ill."
Shadow Eyes nuzzles. You dislike violence, in general?
Erik shrugs uncomfortably. "Something like that."
Shadow Eyes whuffles. That is nothing to be ashamed of, though many here will 
  not see it that way. Some would consider that a very good trait. But there 
  are things you could do that do not involve fighting. Or direct violence. 
  You could set traps, or supervise the wardings. Set up warnings, or a new 
  system to communicate. A Guardian guards. Guarding does not automatically 
  mean fighting.
Erik nods his head, slowly.
Shadow Eyes looks up at him carefully, not used to saying so much at one time 
  to the Fianna. Does that make sense? I .. perhaps talk about things I do not 
  know about.
Shadow Eyes does not want to upset you..
Erik shakes his head. "No, I understand what you're saying."
Shadow Eyes nuzzles him. This one must return to the city, to go eat at a good 
  place of cooked meat with his packmate. Perhaps you will think on what I 
  said?
Erik nods. "I will. Um. Thank you."
Shadow Eyes trots off, hoping he has pleased the Fianna.
Shadow Eyes leaves the compound.
Shadow Eyes has left.