Rite Exchange

[hazlogs]

It is currently 12:59 Pacific Time on Fri Oct 18 2002.

Currently in Saint Claire, it is a cloudy day. The temperature is 49
degrees Fahrenheit (9 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in
from variable directions at 7 mph. The barometric pressure reading is
30.06 and rising, and the relative humidity is 93 percent. The dewpoint is
47 degrees Fahrenheit (8 degrees Celsius.)

Currently the moon is in the waxing Full Moon phase (81% full).

Location: Harbor Park -- Fountain

The Shadow-Lordish Glass Walker stands over by the river, his breath
visible in the chill autumn air, his coat buttoned shut and his hands
buried in his pockets. Eyes hidden behind dark lenses, he appears to be
watching the Columbia.

At the rate he's going, the Fianna's rather distinctive woodland camo
painted truck will become a familiar sight in the parking lot near the
park. Several times in the last few weeks, anyway. Getting out and locking
the door, he takes a moment to put his keys into his front pocket before
heading toward the same general area of the park he met Salem at the last
time.

[Luke]

	This young man comes across immediately as the outdoorsy type.
He's always been athletic and active, but has filled out quite a bit in
the years since arriving on the farm, his musculature showing the
definition that comes from regular workouts and physical labor. His skin
is a healthy tan, though it hasn't done anything to rid him of the
freckles that dust his nose and cheeks. His hair, once a tousled mess of
rust and chestnut, has been cropped back to a military regulation
high-and-tight. His eyes are an expressive pale green, almost always
determined and confident, frequently with a gleam of mischief and matched
by a playful grin, though a touch of sadness will emerge from their depths
when he thinks no one is watching. For all that he can be extremely
relaxed and lackadaisical when he chooses to be, there's a strong streak
of military discipline that runs through him - he's still likely to refer
to his elders as sir or ma'am, he usually stands when they enter a room,
and he's prone to standing at parade rest when he's not lounging.

	His dress does nothing to change the initial impression. His
standard attire is a faded pair of blue jeans or shorts with a US Army
t-shirt, both of which are marred by sweat and dirt from his outdoor
activities more often than not. He very seldom wears shoes when he's
around the farm and bawn, his feet calloused enough that this doesn't give
him many problems. When he does wear them, it's a pair of sneakers that
are well worn in, having seen their share of miles over all sorts of
terrain. The one real constant about the young man is the presence of a
metal chain around his neck; a soldier's dog-tags, kept protectively
close.

Salem cuts a distinctive figure standing there near the river, tall and
dark and quite alone. Despite the cool weather, the park has several
visitors this early afternoon, but none that are anywhere within the
perimeter of potential violence that seethes out of the former Ahroun.

Luke comes to a stop a few feet from the Walker's side, looking out over
the water as well. "Afternoon," he greets. His only concession to the
cooling weather so far is a sweatshirt rather than his usual tee.

Salem turns slightly toward the Fianna and dips his head slightly. "Mr.
Cassidy," he says, all detached courtesy. "What can I do for you today?"

Luke says "Maybe nothing, but from what I've heard about you, you seemed
like a good candidate to ask. Looking to do a little learning, and want to
get outside my normal circle of friends. Get to know some of the folks I
haven't crossed paths with too much. Have a small scar on my shoulder from
the first fight I got in after I came to the farm. Was hoping to learn how
to help some of the younger ones mark the occasion, when the time comes."

Salem folds his arms across his chest. "I know that one," he says, tilting
his head as he studies the Fianna's face. "I can even teach it to you...
for a price, of course. Fair exchange."

Luke answers, "A lesson for a lesson, if know one you're interested in. If
not, I'm sure we can work something out." Finally, he turns his head
toward the other. "Looking for anything in particular?"

"The Passage rite's high on my list," Salem says. He's apparantly given
the matter some thought, enough that there's little hesitation in his
reply. "Questing Stone as well. If nothing else, I wouldn't mind knowing
the one for cleansing Wyrm-taint."

Luke says "Option B is your best bet from me. Was the first one I learned,
back when I was with Pathfinders. Comes in handy quite a bit."

Salem nods. "I've been meaning to learn it for a while, but never seem to
find the time." The halfmoon shrugs, turns a look around at the park in
general -- keeping an eye out for trouble -- before focussing back on the
Fianna. "All right. When do you want your first lesson?"

Luke says "When it comes to that, you're the boss. I live out at the
grotto, but have wheels, so can be around town when I need to be. I'd even
go first, if you wanted me to. No one waiting on me to learn; the kids are
all grown up. Think you'll be needing to find anyone soon?"

Salem grimaces faintly, hands vanishing back into his coat pockets. "I
_do_ have a missing packmate, but two of our members have already done the
rite without success. Our totem's making inquiries." He shakes his head.
"No, I can teach you the Rite of Wounding first. It's not that difficult.
Will you be free later this weekend?"

Luke says "Missing packmate? Let me know if there's anything I can do to
help. Could ask Eamon to come talk to you, maybe. He's got a knack for
finding things that's a little stronger than Questing Stone. But as for
later, I don't have drill this weekend, so I'll be around, yeah."

The Walker purses his lips. "Eamon... hmn. I'll keep that in mind. Right.
As for the other... I'll be in touch." He cocks his head at the Fianna.
"How _is_ your branch of the family these days, by the way? I recall that
you've recently had a pair that graduated."

Luke says "Still not where we used to be, when our elders were around." He
chuckles a bit at that. "The cubs that I grew up with and I _are_ the
elders, now. Still blows me away, that. And Megan and Steven would only
have time in grade on me. But we're getting things back the way they
should be, slowly but surely. If you know Tobin, he graduated right along
with my pair, and the three of them are in the process of finding a totem.
Merlin, I believe. Taking a long time, but they're confident their
patience will pay off."

"It figures that a pack of Theurges would seek after one of the more
obscure spirits," Salem remarks dryly, with a faint quirk of a smile. "No
offense meant, of course. I remember the old guard, Brian particularly.
Good to see the new guard is coming along so well." Again, the Walker's
manner is nothing but polite, almost pleasant over that aura of controlled
rage.

Luke chuckles. "Yeah, especially those three. Though at least it's a bird
of prey, and not one of the _really_ out there ones. A bird of prey may be
wise and cunning, but you can understand where they're coming from most of
the time." He pats his left shoulder. "Brian's the one that made sure I
had something to remember that first fight by," he says, "among other
things. Though mostly Megan was responsible for me."

Salem nods, the thin little smile still lingering at the corners of his
mouth. "Who's elder, if you don't mind me asking?"

Luke says "Layne. Philodox. And challenging Seeker for Fostern, which
makes life easier -- would be a little odd if three of us outranked the
elder, y'know."

Salem rubs at his chin, taking a surreptious glance at his watch as he
does so. "Ye-es... it's for similar reasons that I'm hoping John succeeds
in his challenge before Alicia manages to pass the one I presume you'll be
giving her." He gives another of those thin smiles.

Luke nods, understanding, and not oblivious to the glance at the watch.
"Announced Tuesday, if all goes according to plan." At the moot, of
course. "But, anyway, I'm starved, so I think I'm gonna leave the office
to you, if you don't mind."

"Not at all," the Walker replies smoothly. "Be seeing you, then."

Luke says, "Later," and then takes a step backward before about-facing and
heading for his truck.