Conversation at the Caern

[hazlogs]

It is currently 20:07 Pacific Time on Sat Feb 6 2016.

Currently in Saint Claire, it is mostly cloudy. The temperature is 39 degrees Fahrenheit (3 degrees Celsius). The wind is calm today. The barometric pressure reading is 30.46 and steady, and the relative humidity is 96 percent. The dewpoint is 38 degrees Fahrenheit (3 degrees Celsius.) For more detail, see: http://www.wunderground.com/cgi-bin/findweather/getForecast?query=98501

Currently the moon is in the waning New (Ragabash) Moon phase (9% full).

Caern: The Stone Firepit

A subtle undulation of the land forms an curious, natural spiral in the open ground. One side of the formation rises to create a half-circle or crescent of earth surrounding and encompassing the spiral. The ground is littered with rock and flagstones, both large and small. Someone has carefully gathered up a trove of these and erected a clear fire pit. Flagstones with smooth surfaces have been laid along the upper lip of half circle of earth around the fire pit, turning it into a nice seating area. All debris and flammable material's been removed from within the spiral, and a fire has been laid. Just beyond the spiral's edge, wood has been collected and piled for future use. Surrounding this, the rugged walls of the canyon have been half buried by the Wyld surge, making the upper slope of the valley more gentle than it was before. Stands of Douglas fir and white pines mix with hemlock, lodgepole pines, and western larch trees to fill much of the open space, but the trees here are not nearly as dense as they are in the surrounding forests of the bawn. The sparse woods allows a partial view of the sky, and both sun and moonlight filter down to create enigmatic and beautiful shadow patterns on the forest floor. That floor is blanketed with a thick, soft rug of shed pine needles, lichen and leaf debris. The moss-covered relics of old, dead trees occasionally mark a place where once great sentinels loomed above.

The caern expands in two directions from here. The escarpment wall and raised dais form one point of the new triangle, while the center of the caern and its gigantic, Wyld-influenced tree marks the other. The only obvious way out of the caern is the valley slope that leads to the central bawn.

Nicodemus starts slightly as Bad-Boy appears near him, but he recovers swiftly. "No, nothing is sacred anymore," he admits to Thane as he unwraps the vegan Thai peanut 'jerky' strip from its packaging and--thinking better of keeping it in his fingers--tosses it towards Bad-Boy. "So who is this particular character?" he asks, clearly indicating Bad-Boy.

Bad-Boy deftly catches the jerky out of the air and chews it noisily, eyes lidded and tail wagging in doggy bliss. I am Bad-Boy! he explains when done, Claith Theurge Bone Gnawer!

Clearly one of the parents of this wolf wasn't actually a wolf. Judging from the sheer size of him and his long, shaggy coat, it was probably a buffalo or a yak or something. From the looks of things, he's about a good thirty pounds heavier than the average wolf and his body thicker and blockier than what you might find while standing a good hand taller. His fur is a deep, shaggy black, longer and thicker than anything you would find on his brethren. His face, though, is still clearly wolf despite the slightly blockier appearance. His muzzle is also the only place where you see any real color to him, having picked up the color and markings from his wolfish parent.

"Not at all." Thane says as he lifts his eyes from the snoozing Mouse-Trap. "Not even for followers of other totems. The spirits enjoy an easy target, but that's his fault if he wakes up with figurative sharpie on his face - or in his dreams. Even the lesson-givers need to learn them." And as Nick asks his question, Thane points at the fuzzy Garou and clarifies, "He introduces himself as Bad-Boy, Cliath Theurge and Bone Gnawer. If I recall, follow of Otter, yes?"

Thomas turns his attention from the snoozing Justin to Bad-Boy, and rubs thoughtfully at his beard. "Glad you're here to interpret, 'cause I ain't catching most of that."

Salem drops down out of a tree at the edge of the bawn, landing in a crouch. He stands up after a brief moment and brushes off his hands as he takes in the caern gathering.

Nicodemus considers his second and last package of faux-jerky, weighs it with the apparent happiness it has generated for the Gnawer theurge, and unwraps it. "Bad-Boy, huh? You came out of nowhere. How did you do that?" he asks right before tossing the second and final piece of food to the Gnawer. His eyes glance towards Salem and he offers a quick nod.

Bad-Boy stares intently at the second piece of jerky until Nickodemus relents and tosses it to him. Like the first he snatches it out of the air, and like the first, gobbles it down happily. Tail still wagging, he explains that he just came from the Umbra. Otter lets me go as I please. It's really neat!

Mouse-Trap lets out a soft noise under his throat, then cracks an eye open as his nose gives a few twitches. Perhaps he can smell the jerky that was offered. Yawning, he rolls up to his paws and smacks his muzzle a few times, then squints. Hey! Bad Boy. You are still alive?

Shaggy gray and white coat, the wolf looks to be a mix of German Shepherd and wolf. Warm gold eyes are set before his long muzzle and coal black nose. His body is healthy with a bit of lankiness to it. He appears to be rather young and feisty.

"Uh." Thomas is still studying Bad-Boy intently. "Well, he said things. Something is neat. No idea 'bout the other one."

"Umbra." Thane translates over to Nicodemus on the tail of Turtle's words. "Otter's pack members can travel it pretty easily. Which answered my clarification question. But of course crossing here is fairly simple." The noise of Salem's arrival draws his attention, with just the bare bit of a nod to acknowledge him before he glances down to Mouse-Trap. "We were remarking that you should sleep here at your own risk. It may not exactly be restful."

Salem returns the nods given to him and even smiles a little at Bad-Boy's show of enthusiasm over food and Otter. Hands in pockets, he wanders over to join the others.

Nicodemus ahs at that explanation. "I was wondering if he'd been invisible or something along those lines, as I've seen at least one other garou sort of disappear in plain sight. Easier to get to the umbra here, huh? Not very surprising, honestly," he says, acting as if he didn't know this information already.

There's the sound of movement in the forest not far away, a less graceful, two-legged traverse than perhaps most Garou familiar with the area would produce.

Bad-Boy looks between Thomas and Nick with a puzzled expression. You do not speak wolf? You are too old to be cubs. What kind of Garou are you?

Thomas tips his hat to the newcomer, though there's no sign of recognition. "Evenin'." To Bad-Boy he squints, then shakes his head. "And that one I didn't get anything of other than 'wolf' and he's confused. Sorry. Body language's too different, overall. You'd think it'd be easier."

The Ahroun rolls his canine eyes upwards as his tribemate doesn't answer him. He chuffs again louder to the Theurge, then shifts up into his homid form. Justin runs a hand back through the mop of shaggy curly dark hair, dressed in a pair of sagging pants which reveal a checkered pair of boxers and a black Zero shirt. "Eh." He answers Thomas. "Can't be any worse than Felix fucking with me at night. I sleep like the dead." He reaches over and gives Bad Boy a shove on the shoulder. "Dude."

"Y'don't say," Thomas muses.

"Bad-Boy, they are not Garou. They're kinfolk." Thane explains, adding sidelong to the others. ".. he's lupus, mistaking you for Garou." And then back to the Theurge. "They don't speak wolf so if you want to talk you'll have to go Homid. If you know English, that is. I honestly don't know if you do."

Salem nods back at Thomas, amiably enough; he doesn't acknowledge the other's lack of recognition or enlighten him. He looks mildly amused, in fact. Maybe it's Bad-Boy's antics. Sound coming from the forest tugs at his attention, though, and he looks over that way.

At the edge of the slope where the forest ends and the caern begins, a young man stumbles clear of the last bit of brush. His grey, Red Sox hoodie is no longer so clean as it might have been when he began the journey, and he runs a hand back through his short hair, dusting loose a bit of detritus he's managed to gather. He stops when he sees the group gathered, and then grins rather broadly. "Oh, hey!"

A young man of average height and athletic build, he is generally seen with a cunning smile and an easy manner. His dark hair is cut short, just enough length that the waves take form. (If he let it grow out, it would probably lead to unruly curls.) His eyes are green, or perhaps hazel, depending on the light. His skin is pale and freckled, and his cheekbones, while not extreme, are prominent. The straight nose and strong chin can lead to a more stern impression, but it's broken easily when he grins.

Today he wears a simple grey hoodie with a Red Sox logo on the front. His denim jeans are, if not new, well cared for, as are the blue and grey tennis shoes beneath. Around his neck, visible against the grey of the sweatshirt, he wears a pendant of carved, black stone strung on a thin cord of braided leather.

Carrying:
Obsidian Pendant

Bad-Boy blinks through his confusion. OOoooooooh. He squinches his face and shifts up into Homid, which really doesn't improve his shaggy appearance (or smell) any. His clothes look like they haven't been changed or washed in years (they haven't) and his black curly hair and beard match the shagginess of his wolf form. "Hi! I speak human okay!" With that he thrusts out his fists and pops a couple of thumbs up into the air, grinning like a maniac.

At the Ahroun Gnawer's shoving Bad-Boy looks over at him eyebrows raised. "What?"

"Yes," Nick concurs. "I'm Nick Dalton, kin to the Glass Walkers," he informs the recently shifted Bone Gnawer. "Hey, S...." and he cuts himself as he notices Salem's amusement and the fact that another garou, Nolan, has arrived. "And another new person. Catch my introduction there?" he inquires.

Thomas can't seem to help grinning a little in return. "That you do." He turns to the newest newcomer, and gives Nolan a tip of his hat as well. "Evenin'. Wrong time've the month for a formal meeting, but is there another one I'm unaware of?"

Giving him another shoulder shove, Justin says, "Dude, where have you been? We didn't change the locks on the library. Huh, I didn't think you even had a human form." He says with a wily grin. Tilting his head upwards, he lifts a hand. "Hey Nolan! Whaddup dude?"

"Well, not entirely untrue, Thomas." Thane says aside to the man. "To spread out sept relations, we do hold informal-formal gatherings for the sept and all sept allies, mortal or otherwise, on the new moons. So, we're conveniently times. We also have similar but slightly more formal ones on the half moons as needed for challenges, grievances, and the sort. This sept is far more varied than just Garou, so it became prudent to open things up some. Understandable, most would not feel comfortable attending a Rage and spirit-filled bit of chaos on the full moons." As someone new arrives, Thane glances over to the Ragabash. "Good evening, Nolan. Settling in alright?"

Salem cocks his head a little, eyeballing Nolan as if taking the newcomer's measure, though his body language remains casual, loose and easy.

Nolan waves a hand toward Justin. "Yo," he calls out, before turning to acknowledge Nick. "Glass Walker kin. Got it. Nolan Fahey. Ragabash of the Fianna," he offers in return, and then turns his grin to Thane. "I'm doing just fine. Still haven't decided about the settling, or not. I got a good weekly rate at the Super8 for now, though."

"Wolves doing something new?" Thomas says, obviously amused. "Wonders never cease. --Thomas Lee," he says, both to Nolan and Salem (and possibly Bad Boy). "Uktena kin, among other things."

Nicodemus asides, mostly for Thomas's benefit, "I haven't been to a new moon moot yet, but I heard the first one was interesting--and lots of information got shared. I think I can make the next one unless there's an emergency at the office." He nods to Nolan. "Hey. Good to see a Fianna around. It's been.... Over a year I guess since I saw the last one. And you can always bunk at Edgewood if the Super8 isn't to your liking or gets expensive over time."

Fetch gives Justin a practiced, if not exaggerated shrug, like it's something he's been practicing. "Around," he answers. "You never see," he says, is deep bass voice amused. He swings his genial grin back around to the Kin. "Kin! Is good to see kin!" He puffs out his chest and thrusts a big meaty hand out to Nick. "I am called Fetch! Thank you for food!"

Throwing an arm around Fetch's shoulders, Justin gives it a firm squeeze. "Yeah, well, come around more often so we can do stuff. We're having a Super Bowl party at the library tomorrow. Felix and I got a couple of TV's fixed up and I got some coin to snag a few pizzas." With a smirk, his chin dips upwards. "You wanna come, Nolan?"

"Old dogs do occasionally pick up new tricks." Thane remarks sidelong to Thomas with a faint grin. "But both are open, so if you're so inclined you can stop by. As Nick here said, the new moon ones are designed around spreading information when folks have clearer heads to think with and brainstorm, which helps keeps us all on the same page and saves time trying to pass word around."

Thane isn't a man who's appearance stands out much. He's caucasian of skin tone with a faint swarthiness should he stay out in the sun long enough to catch a tan. His bones are pronounced, giving him the appearance of leanness despite having a solid, even musculature that speaks of someone who's gained his athleticism through rounded activity versus focused weight training. His hair is a tawny brown in most lights and usually kept in a short style. Often, there's a good day's growth of beard on his face which seems to hide small nicks and old scars. His eyes are a mid-tone blue, often held under pensive brows.

There is a look to him, the weight of something undefined. It's like looking into the eyes of a man who has seen terrible things and was never quite was the same after. It's even more haunting considering his blind right eye is couched in scars like an attack from a bear.

Usually, he's casually dressed but cleans up when the need calls. He's never seen among the normal public in anything but long sleeves regardless of the weather, underneath showing massive scarring on on his forearms. They don't seem to restrict movement, but the oddly darkened scars are numerous like lightning bolts across his skin. Another deep slice runs at the upper portion of his abdomen.

Carrying:
Soul of Lightning

"How are your kits doing, Mr. Lee?" Salem asks, his attention turning back to the vulpine Uktena kin.

Nolan laughs at Nick's suggestion. "Because housing a bunch of rage infused monsters under one roof is a dandy idea," he says with a smirk. "I think I'll keep to the hotel while I check things out. Justin gets a glance and a grin, but no definitive answer. He may not have seemed to notice Salem at all, but the question posed gets both the Glass Walker and the kin a set of curious glances.

Thomas gives Salem a somewhat surprised look. "Doing alright," he replies. "Been a handful, as they should be. I got some good folk looking after 'em while I'm away, but I'm sure I'll get an earful when I get back. 'Specially a certain two. I'd say I never gave my mother this kind've trouble, but I'd be lying."

"You are welcome," Nick replies to Fetch. "Sorry I don't have any more with me. I packed light." He looks to Nolan and shrugs. "Edgewood efinitely has some cranky housemates, but it's free. Ish." To Thomas he says, "Two? Congratulations are in order."

Fetch looks at his hand and then looks disappointedly at Nick, slowly lowring it, not being able to hide his slight pout. He looks over at his tribemate. "Will be there. Pizza is good!"

"Cool, see you there then." Justin says to Fetch with a grin before he glances over at Nolan. "I'll see you there as well." He'll just make the assumption the smile was a yes. Brushing off his pants, he starts off back through the woods to head to Edgewood. "Speaking of food. I'm starving. I'm gonna raid that fridge. Peace, yo." He calls out to the others as he disappears through the trees.

Salem flashes a brief grin at Thomas. "Congratulations indeed." He catches Nolan's glance and takes the opportunity to introduce himself to the new Fianna. "Jack Salem, called Scar. Adren Philodox of the Glass Walkers and alpha of Sagacity."

"Children are always a handful." Thane remarks while sidelong raising a hand in a wave as Justin departs. "No matter their size, shape, or distance. Last week when I spoke with my ex-wife, it seemed my daughter had attempted to call for an impeachment of the student council president who was reportedly taking illicit bribes. Not that it, in itself, is an issue but she did so while having barged into the offices and hijacked the loudspeaker. She's a Philodox-to-be, if that possibly needed clarification. Only a year or two to go, I wager."

"Suppose it's a congratulating occasion," Thomas says, though he's lacking in the expected enthusiasm. "Thank you b--" Salem's introduction stops him cold. He blinks several times and stares at the far younger Glass Walker before he catches himself. "...Well, that was unexpected."

"There are things worth losing skin over, and things that aren't," Nolan says to Nick, still with an impish sort of grin. "Saving a few dollars for a place to sleep isn't one of them. At least not yet." Once again, though, his attention is snagged by Salem, and once again, the youth gets a curious look. "You've made a name for yourself early."

Nicodemus listens as people speak, but then cracks a faint smile as Thomas places Salem finally.

"I'm older than I look," Salem tells Nolan. He looks pretty darn amused and pretty darn pleased with himself -- especially when he glances back over at Thomas. Gotcha.

"--ready to go now, they got their surfboards an' they're goin' to the discotheque a-go-go," Felix is singing as he strolls into the caern, breaking off suddenly as he passes the trees and catches sight of the current population, "Holy shit there's a lotta y'all here tonight. I didn't miss out on a moot or nothin', did I?" He heads over to join the group, Thomas and Fetch getting particular examination as he does.

(OOC) To the caern, Fetch says "Hah! Finally found the picture: https://locashmagazine.files.wordpress.com/2013/06/reggie-watts-rainbow.jpg"
(OOC) To the caern, Fetch says "BB in Homid. :D"

"Ecch," Thomas says in response, although he doesn't actually seem terribly irritable. "So'm I, but he still got me. Don't suppose it's terribly polite-like to ask what happened." He glances sidelong at Thane. "Mine're coming up soon. Spring, I'm thinking. First time for me. Helped teach plenty've Kits, but ain't none of them been mine before."

"Well best of luck." Thane bids to Thomas. "No doubt it's always harder when they're your own. There's a decidedly exponential interest in ensuring they survive." And then Felix is arriving and the Lord says, "You just missed Justin. He was returning to Edgewood to empty the fridge. No moot, though given it's a new moon I'm sure no one would argue calling it an unannounced one."

Nolan squints, first at Salem and then at Thomas. "All right," he says, but with that slow drawl that suggests he thinks he's missing something. His hand rises, one finger running around the edge of the carved stone pendant, but his thoughtful look only lasts a moment. "So," he says to Thomas. "When you say 'among other things', you mean fox?" The arrival of the galliard isn't enough to pull his attention from the kin.

"Tell you later," Salem says to Turtle, the smirky little grin fading. "It's not a long story, but..." He shrugs.

Nicodemus gives a nod to Felix. "Evening," he offers to the newly arriving Gnawer. "I filled Thane in on Dariya from the other night. If anything noteworthy happened with her after I had to leave...." He shrugs, as if the rest really went without saying.

Thomas gives Salem a nod before he turns to Thane. "Nah, there's always that. Our process's a bit different'n yours. Less dangerous, overall, least until they're off on their own. 'Sides, ain't like I'll be their only teacher." Nolan gets a faint grin. "That'd be correct."

"Well, shit," Felix says, though it's not clear whether it's about missing his packmate or missing the impromptu semi-moot. Possibly both. Nicodemus gets a grin and slight chin-lift in return for the greeting, and a nod for information. "Awesome. Yeah, weren't much else after you left." He looks as though he's about to say something to Thane, but Nolan's question to one of the strangers definitely gets his attention: fox? The answer gets even more, and he studies Thomas again as if this foxness might somehow show.

A man that looks to be in his early to mid forties, Thomas stands at just a hair under six feet. His features are predominantly Asian (Korean, to those who can tell the difference), with almond shaped eyes dark enough to appear almost black, low eyebrows, and a slightly crooked nose. His skin color speaks mostly toward his mixed heritage; it's darkly bronzed and weather beaten, with laugh lines crinkling near the corners of the eyes. His hair is a silky black, worn long and pulled back into a neat ponytail. He also sports a goatee, kept only long enough to be somewhat bristly to the touch, the black liberally laced with a smattering of grey hairs. The man's build is lean and compact, and he carries himself with a certain athletic grace that's unmistakable.

He appears to favor simple collared shirts of various types (usually black or white), and loose fitting, well worn jeans and hiking boots, but above all, he seems quite attached to a long brown oiled canvas duster. Even in warm weather, he's rarely seen without it. Occasionally, he pairs this with a brown fedora so battered and used that it might actually appear older than the man wearing it. He's wearing what looks like small, hematite beads around his neck, but most of the necklace is tucked under his shirt and out of sight.

Nolan nods slowly at this new bit of information, and his gaze slides over to the alpha. "So, mage-cougars and foxes. Anything else I should know about?"

Thane looks back to Nolan with a thin grin that still seems amused. "Mages, foxes, raven.. oh and a tiger. And this is why introductions are so important around here. You never quite know who you're speaking to. If we were in warmer climes and closer to the ocean, I daresay we'd no doubt attract other creatures the history books like to claim are extinct or mythological. So, any little secrets you're hiding, Nolan? Coyote-in-disguise? White Howler back from the dead?"

Salem says, deadpan, "Fianna would be the perfect cover for a White Howler."

Nicodemus listens attentively and eventually ends up mouthing the words "White Howler" silently, glancing to Thomas momentarily, and then getting an "oh, right" expression.

Thomas is, sadly, not showing any foxness. He's back to rubbing lightly at his beard, with his elbow resting in the cup of his other hand. There's a comment visibly on his lips, but he loses it, and instead glances to Nicodemus at the look. "Oh, that's an old ugly story the Wolves got," he explains. "They've lost a few tribes over the years."

Nolan's grin grows ever so much broader and he throws his arms wide. "You caught me! My diguise as been shredded, my Pict nature seen. I shall hang my head in shame, now." And he does, arms falling to his sides, though the grin never leaves.

Alas! Felix doesn't look visibly disappointed, at least. Maybe the foxness will appear later. Salem's remark gets a soft snort of a laugh, and Nolan's reaction a proper one. "Well, what're you gonna do now we caught you, aside from head-hangin'?"

"I'll leave you to the judgement of the Philodox, then." Thane says with a wave of his hand towards Salem. "My packmate is insisting I come investigate something - though nothing to worry by the sounds of it. So I need to take my leave. Take care, all." And that said, the Lord is headed off.

"Oh, I remember hearing about the White Howlers," Nick says to Thomas by way of explaining his earlier expressions. "It's just been so long since I'd heard about them that I'd half forgotten the name." He scrutinizes Nolan again, just in case he /might/ be a White Howler, but it's clearly him just playing along to Salem's joke.

Salem gets himself comfortable on the ground, legs stretched out, leaning back on his hands. "Tell us all your tribal secrets and then go get some kinfolk so you can restore your line. But no dancing," he says dryly. "Not even at weddings."

"No dancing? You ruin all my fun!" Nolan gives a laugh, shaking his head. "No dancing, no secrets. That's the rule."

"Well, you got yourself plenty've company in that regard," Thomas tells Nick. "Whole lot of folk would just as soon forget the name entire. I've ended up giving too many Lost Cubs the basics, though. Couldn't forget if I wanted to."

"Well, shit," Felix mutters again as Thane takes his leave, and exhales a puff of air before looking back to the others. "How about if he's restricted to line dancin'?" he suggests to Salem, "Prolly can't get in too much trouble doin' the Electric Slide." He moves to take a seat on one of the logs.

"No clogging," Nick suggests whimsically as an additional option--as if that might have ever been an option.

Salem makes a show of seriously considering the matter. "As long as there's no twirling. You know." He leans to one side to free up a hand and makes a spiralling gesture in the air with a finger.

"A line dance!" He looks around at each of the others and then starts to move. It's even sillier without the music, but instantly recognizable as the Macarena, and the man even starts humming along with the steps.

"Ach, no," Thomas says, waving both hands in a warding gesture. "I'm fair sure raising the dead ain't permissible either."

Felix laughs again, and obligingly chimes in, "Darle a tu cuerpo alegria Macarena, que tu cuerpo es pa' darle alegria cosa buena," to support Nolan's attempt. He pauses after the first 'Hey Macarena,' though, glancing to Salem, "I dunno, man -- is doin' the jump after each one too close to twirlin'? Maybe I wasn't thinkin' that through enough. ...also I have no idea what the words mean so we might ALSO be raisin' the dead. Prolly ain't worth the risk."

Nicodemus starts to look interested at all this talk of dances, forbidden and comical. "The garou have their own language, own culture, own government of sorts. Surely they have some kind of traditional dance, right? Perhaps performed at moots?"

Thomas shakes his head at Nick's question. "More like several cultures that occasionally overlap in obvious ways. I've seen sacred dances, but they weren't Garou dances, they were Wendigo, or Uktena, or some blending of the two, or something adapted from specific Native cultures for rituals. Wolves ain't that...what's the word? Homogenous. Not any more'n humans are."

Salem watches the tomfoolery with a faint grin; Nick's question provokes a nose-wrinkle, though. "Right, what Thomas said. Though back when we were trying to invoke the Wyld, at that one moot, some people danced. The only time I've seen dancing at a moot." He lies back, hands behind his head, one ankle crossed over the other.

Nolan throws his hands up into the air. "Well, that's that, then," he says, a little short of breath, and stops to rest with his hands on his knees. "Any other secrets you'll have to pry out of me with a spoon."

"Wouldn't mind if we DID have dances," Felix says, "...but I'm pretty sure if we did someone woulda told me about 'em by now. Oh, incidentally," he turns to Thomas, "seein' as we ain't met yet: Felix T. Sinclair, Lets-Them-Eat-Cake, Cliath 'Gnawer Galliard, packed with Tactical Frivolity, under Coyote." He doesn't get up, but does toss off a bow from where he's seated, complete with sweeping arm movement, and give the Kitsune a grin.

Nicodemus hmms at Salem. "Much as I'd love to see one of the real moots held on the full moon, I don't think that'd be particularly wise nor safe for a kinsman like myself."

Thomas tips his hat to Felix, as he's done to just about everyone who has entered after him. "Thomas Lee, Uktena kin and, as already pointed out, Fox."

"Probably not," Nolan says to Nick, and he straightens once again. "Too many rage infused monsters in one place. Not really a safe spot for anyone. Makes you wonder why it was ever arranged that way in the first place."

Salem tilts his head to look at Nick. "Hm. The really /interesting/ part is actually near the start, when the Inner Sky is opened and the totems make an appearance. Usually a /spectacular/ appearance. Quite a show, with lots of howling." He shrugs. "After that, it's mostly business. Announcements, newcomer introductions... often a story at the end. Then more howling, and the Revel, which... no, I wouldn't recommend any kin be anywhere near that." He glances over at Nolan. "The Umbra's brightest and safest. Plus, while the new moon might mean less frenzies, it's also traditionally a time for secrets and stealth. A moot is... the opposite of that."

"Nice meetin' you," Felix says, "pretty sure you're the first fox I've met." He nods to Nolan, agreeing, "I wondered, but yeah, I reckoned like he says, nice bright safe Umbra. Well, relatively speakin'. S'pose you could do 'em on half-moons an' split the difference on the dangers, 'cept then you'd have 'em twice as often an' might be it ends up it ain't bright enough AND you ain't got folks enough calmer to be worth it."

Nicodemus steps away from the group, going over to collect his hiking backpack. "Live vicariously through the stories of those who've survived," he says, summarizing the advice he more or less was just given. "I'm going to go set up my hammock and sleeping bag and turn in for the night--about a hundred yards north of here," he says, mostly to the other Walker present. "Mr. Lee? A real pleasure to have you back in town. Hopefully we can catch up later."

Thomas tips his hat once again. "I'll look forward to it. Good night, Dalton." He turns back to Felix with a faint grin. "Could be. We don't tend to advertise though. Ain't generally healthy. Not too many Foxes in the Americas though, even these days."

"Gets pretty dark out here," Nolan calls to Nick. "Try not to walk into a tree."

Salem sits up and nods to Nicodemus. "Sleep well."

"Kinda a shame. Ain't that many people get to introduce themselves as a fox an' not come off real conceited," Felix says, grinning back to Thomas, and then lifts a hand in a slight wave to Nicodemus. "Night, man. Sleep tight, don't let the Guardians bite."

"Now I know you ain't met another Fox," Thomas remarks, with a faint, whiskery sort of grin.

Nolan watches the kin leave, but then turns his focus to Thomas, one eyebrow arched in curiosity. "So you're typical of your kind?"

"He's actually the /second/ Fox we've had in town," Salem says, finally getting back to his feet. "She left after she'd done what she came here for, though." He wanders off toward the center of the caern.

Caern: The Center Tree

The center of the caern is devoid of the thick vegetation that inhabits the rest of the forest. The ground is flat and well trodden, its rich, dark soil nonetheless still carrying the scent of the woods--moss and peat mixed with pine needles, detritus, and the dampness brought from life-giving rain. The wide, empty clearing is dominated by one living exception to the absence of vegetation: an impossibly gigantic and ancient tree growing out of the ground near the very center. The tree defies logic. Grown in the span of a single year, it nevertheless has the size, apparent age, and character of the greatest and most ancient of forest sentinels. It looms over everything, silent and watchful. The backdrop to this commanding presence is almost as remarkable. Spanning the entire length of the old caern's chasm and completely encompassing the southern half is a colossal remnant of the wasp nest built during the Wyld surge. The towering walls of the nest are as strong as the earth into which they're built, their surface smooth to the touch and colored in shaded swirls of beiges, browns, yellows, and reds in a hypnotizing, pleasing way. Oval shapes bulge from the wall in places, while others sinks inward, giving the whole thing a haphazard air.

The caern's triangle extends out from here in two directions. On one side, the escarpment wall with its natural dais can be seen. The opposite side holds the stone firepit.

Contents:
The Caern Tree

From the stone firepit, Felix hehs, and looks faintly surprised at Salem's remark. "Yeah?" He can't quite resist, "...was she foxy? An' what'd she come here for?"

Salem pauses near the caern tree, head cocked, and thinks. "...You know, I don't actually remember." For the first time this evening, his good mood withers. He stands there frowning for a few more moments, then shakes his head and moves off, heading out of the caern.