hazlogs | Teaching Rite of Wounding

It is Wed Oct 23 2002.

Currently in Saint Claire, it is foggy. The temperature is 47 degrees
Fahrenheit (8 degrees Celsius). The wind is calm today. The barometric
pressure reading is 30.06 and steady, and the relative humidity is 100
percent. The dewpoint is 47 degrees Fahrenheit (8 degrees Celsius.)

Currently the moon is in the waning Full Moon phase (86% full).

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.

A faint trail leads off to the east, and a bit north.

Luke has a small fire going in the firepit, and sits on a log next to it.
For once, though, he doesn't have hotdogs or marshmallows. Wouldn't really
fit the occasion.

Salem's passage through the woods is less than stealthy, though it isn't
as brutishly heavy-footed as would come from your average city-dweller. He
brushes bits of forest from his coatsleeves as he enters the clearing.

Luke was watching and listening for the Walker's arrival, and as such,
raises his hand in greeting as soon he steps into view.

"Morning," greets the Glass Walker, and it still is -- for another hour,
at least. He steps toward the Fianna and the small fire. "I apologize for
the delay, but things... came up, this weekend."

Luke shrugs. "Happens to all of us. I've had trips that were supposed to
take a week or two take over three months. A couple of days is pretty
timely compared to that."

One corner of Salem's mouth quirks upward. "Indeed." He takes a seat on a
log nearby. "Now. The ritual. You said it'd been done to you as a cub, by
Brian?"

Luke is only wearing a t-shirt, and so pulls up his left sleeve to reveal
a thin, weblike pattern of scarring against the otherwise tanned skin of
his shoulder.

Salem gives it a glance and then nods. "It's a simple enough ritual,
though of course every tribe has its variants. The way I learned it was to
rub ash into the wound while speaking a few words in regards to the cub's
bravery and valor. It's a rite of praise, after all, to showcase worthy
conduct in battle and to celebrate the receiver's passage from unblooded
to blooded warrior. At the Sept where I learned the ritual, there was
generally not more to it than that, but I know that it's not untoward to
throw a small party as well, afterwards."

Luke nods. "Being Fianna, parties tend to go with the territory. Is it
normally done not long before the Rite of Passage? That's how it was done
for the group that I fought alongside, at least."

"Traditionally," Salem says, "it's done for the first wound a Garou
receives in battle against the Wyrm. It could also be used for the first
_significant_ wound in battle against the Wyrm, or for a wound gotten in
one's first _victory_ against the Wyrm. It should happen sometime before
the Rite of Passage, though not always."

Luke adds, "All three together, sometimes. And it can happen after, then.
I wasn't sure, there. I can't imagine a tribe _not_ making sure their cubs
know what they're up against with with a significant battle pre-RoP, but I
s'pose anything can happen."

"It's not unheard-of," Salem agrees. He rubs his chin, stroking the short
beard. "Now, in regards to a demonstration... do the Fianna have any
appropriate candidates for the rite, currently?"

Luke shakes his head. "We don't have any cubs right now, no."

"Hm." Salem thinks a moment. "That's fine. Quentin will do." He tilts his
head at the Fianna. "We'll pick a day, do some, mn, 'bug hunting'. You,
Quentin, and myself... others, if you choose, but smaller is better. Let
the boy get a good chance to get his claws dirty. Presuming he gets
wounded in the battle, you can watch me perform the rite on him."

Luke says "How's this weekend? I know a spot, was originally going to use
it as part of Alicia's challenge -- there's a group of corrupted Pattern
Spiders far enough from reinforcements that we could hit them and get out
without having to worry about getting swarmed by anything. Changed the
challenge, but the spiders still have to be dealt with. The three of us,
maybe two others, ought to be able to handle it."

Salem nods sharply and pushes to his feet, brushing himself off as he does
so. "Sounds like a plan."

Luke rises as well, though with a fire going, he obviously isn't going
far. "Great." He chuckles. "Ought to bring back some memories."

Salem gives the Fianna a crooked, sardonic half-smile. "Indeed. Be seeing
you." With that, he turns to go.