Story Time

[hazlogs]

It is currently 18:53 Pacific Time on Tue Jan 28 2003.

Currently in Saint Claire, it is clear outside. The temperature is 47 degrees Fahrenheit (8 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from the north at 6 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 30.22 and rising, and the relative humidity is 83 percent. The dewpoint is 42 degrees Fahrenheit (5 degrees Celsius.)

Currently the moon is in the waning Crescent Moon phase (27% full).

Storeroom

A large, cold storeroom. Rows of empty metal shelves are bolted to the concrete floor, and light's provided by a few naked light bulbs hanging from the ceiling. There's a bare mattress on the floor, along with a caged iguana and some of Cassiel's other things -- clothes, blankets, a pillow, and the like. There's a bathroom at one end of the storeroom, but the water's been turned off. The single door leading out is usually locked, and has a bolt on the outside to secure it further.

Cassiel's Elder, teacher, and captor arrives as he always does -- announced by the scraping sound of the metal bolt sliding back and the turn of the lock, and carrying food. Nonperishable stuff this time, in cans. He got her a hotplate a week or so ago, but the accomodations in general remain... primitive. Urban primitive, but still primitive.

Cassiel is sitting on the mattress, where she usually is, reading a book with Zilla stretched out across her lap. At the sound of the door opening she peers up, grunts something that may or may not be a greeting, and returns to her book.

Salem arches an eyebrow, then closes the door behind him. "Hello to you, too." He sets down the plastic grocery bag of canned food -- beefaroni and soup. Then he stands over her, arms folded.

Cassiel looks up again, this time actually setting the book aside on the bed next to her. "What brings you by today, besides to drop off more food and stuff," she replies, letting one hand run down the iguana's side as it naps.

"A bit of history," Salem says evenly. He settles down crosslegged on the bare floor nearby, elbows resting on his thighs and fingers folded together in front of him. "Who we are, both as a people and, specifically, as a tribe."

Cassiel ohs. "So storytime then. Haven't had one of those in a bit." She grabs a piece of scrap paper serving as a placemarker nearby, then puts it in her book and closes it. "Tell on. I'm listening."

Salem nods, then begins. "I've already told you about the Triat," he says, taking a bottle of water from the grocery bag and unscrewing the top. "And how it went bad, as far as we know. This takes place much afterward, when the world was recognizably our world, but still primitive. Before the first city, before the rise of human civilization. Do you remember the Imperigium?"

Cassiel squints her eyes a little bit, biting the tip of her tongue as she think. "Was that the thing when the Garou were wiping out stuff, like humans?" she asks, still not sure of the answer.

"Humans, specifically," Salem says with a faint grimace. "'Culling the herds,' they called it. Keeping the population down. It was ended by the efforts of the Children of Gaia, the Black Furies, and the Stargazers. We didn't exist then, not yet." He takes a sip of water. "Afterward, the Garou faded into the background. The elders set down the law of the Veil, and humanity started the process of forgetting we existed... and they started building cities. The first city."

Cassiel hrms. "If we didn't exist then, then what were we? Just tribeless Garou, wandering aimlessly?" She tilts her head, folding her hands into her lap as she continues to listen.

"We were part of other tribes," Salem says. "Our tribe begins, though, soon after the Impergium ended. The elders of the Garou Nation charged a number of Garou to form a pack whose purpose was to watch over humanity. To keep an eye on them. They did the same for the wolves, but, mm. Wolves don't do very much." He smiles thinly, just for a moment. "They called this pack the Warders of Man."

Cassiel stretches out on the mattress after placing Zilla next to her. "So did we come from that pack? I can't imagine how a pack, if it had members from other tribes in it, would decide to renounce their original tribe and decide to live with humans."

Salem says. "I'm getting to that." He frowns faintly. "You must understand, the Garou were very, mm, feral in those days. Tooth and nail and whatever Gifts given to them by Gaia. Powers from nature, from animals, from the spirits and their ancestors... not from humanity. The Warders of Man, as they watched humanity, saw them do things they hadn't thought of before. What humans lacked in physical prowess they made up for in inventiveness. The Warders of Man became... fascinated, and started copying the humans' inventions, sometimes improving them with the use of spirits. The bow and arrow, for example... we learned that from humanity. The pack grew larger was use of such weapons became more popular, and the pack became... not a tribe, really, but a society of like-minded Garou. But they still did not live in the cities. Not yet." He takes another sip of water before continuing.

Cassiel ohs. "All right. Guess that makes some sense. I think. But wouldn't we have been creative enough to do all that stuff on our own, or were we content to just use fangs, claws, and that sort of thing?"

Salem's smile is thin and humorless. "The Garou Nation was _quite_ content with their natural weapons and their traditions. It was a simpler world. Less complex. They could afford to be lax and lazy. But several, wolf-born most likely, and they were much more numerous then, likely the controlling force in the Nation, started to feel threatened by the Warders of Man and thought about disbanding them and reinstating the Impergium long enough to destroy the first city and the humans within it. The Warders responded by moving into the city and breeding with the humans there so they could claim them as kinfolk. To protect them." His mouth thins. "I apologize if this all sounds a bit rough and vague, but we have nothing from that time but oral tradition, and our tribe isn't much on oral tradition. Still, it was around the time that we started living within the city walls, living as _humans_ do, mind you, not as street scum or beggers the way the Bone Gnawers did, that we stopped being a pack or a society and started being considered a tribe. A small tribe, granted, but still a tribe."

Cassiel shakes her head and waves a hand in the air. "Eh, I've read stories that were more boring and vague. You're doing fine." She folds her arms and rests her head on them, glancing up occasionally. "So why didn't the Gnawers just join with us and make one tribe that way? Or were they happy living like that? I can't imagine why someone would be, but hey. That's just my opinion. I like having four walls around me and food every day."

"Better to ask one yourself," Salem says dryly. "Many Bone Gnawers are simply unable. They are, quite bluntly, the dregs of Garou society. Any Garou that can't hack it anywhere else ends up in the Gnawers. Or dead." He pauses a beat. "There was a time, in the early twentieth century, when there was talk of our tribes merging, but that fell apart when the Great Depression hit, and we've since gone seperate ways. Different philosophies. The Bone Gnawers, and their totem, the Rat, believe in survival at all costs. Ours, Cockroach, believes in survival and adaptability. Bone Gnawers are the champions of trash. We Glass Walkers are the champions of the city."

Cassiel nods a bit. "Ahhh. Following you now. Do you think there would ever be a time where the two might actually become one tribe? Like, after the Apocalypse or whatever? I doubt there'll be many cities left after that happens."

Salem considers this, lips thinned. He shrugs. "Hard to say what will happen after something like that. We may. Then again, the Bone Gnawers may join the rest of the Nation in celebrating the destruction of human civilization, while _we_ are set to the task of helping build it back up." He exhales a sharp breath. "That is, if there's anything left to rebuild. Our primary duty is to Gaia and prtecting Her."

"That's gotta be a tough decision. Help Gaia, or help the people you've lived with your entire life, and who are pretty much the skeleton of your tribe." Cass shakes her head. "Of course, it seems nothing about this protecting Gaia deal is ever an easy decision."

Salem's eyes narrow. "There is no decision to make, Cassiel. By helping humanity, by keeping the city clean and fighting the Wyrm within it, you help Gaia. The city is of Gaia. Humans are of Gaia. The ferals and the Luddites out in the woods and in the gutters will disagree with you, but that's what separates them from us."

Cassiel bites her lip, but doesn't vocally give a reply. She just nods instead and rolls onto her side, waiting for Salem to continue.

"The real war is here," Salem continues, tapping the concrete floor between them. "The caern is out there in the woods, and that needs protecting too... as does the land surrounding it. I've done my time out there to help guard it, as will you when the time comes, but the city is our home. You understand?"

"Uh-huh," the cub replies softly. "But I have to admit, that's quite a bit of things to protect for a tribe. Most just have one or the other, but we have to somehow balance the two. I guess, after time it just becomes second nature, but it seems like a lot to me."

Salem gives the cub a faint smile. "You're young," he says, taking another swallow of water. "Plus, I'm giving you the broad philosophies. The grand scheme, the wide picture. Practically speaking... you do what you can, with what skills you have. After you finish this stage of your life, your cubhood, and get through your Rite of Passage, you'll join other Garou in a pack. Between pack and Sept, you'll do fine."

Cassiel smirks. "Yeah, yeah. I doubt I'm gonna get out of this place anytime soon, and I bet leaving this cub stage or whatever is even further off. No hurry though, I guess."

Salem considers her thoughtfully, his eyes slightly narrowed. "The former will take place before the latter. You won't be in here for _too_ much longer, I don't imagine."

Cassiel quirks a brow, and doesn't look all that convinced. "Sure. And I'm gonna sprout wings and be the first flying Garou. I'll even put on a superhero costume and patrol the city while I'm at it."

Salem frowns. "Do you know _why_ I had you locked in here, Cassiel?"

Cassiel shakes her head. "Probably because you didn't want a cub wandering the streets by themselves? Or maybe you enjoy this sort of thing. I dunno."

"Not just a cub, but a doubting cub who I was not certain wouldn't simply run off to the police. Or the media." The older Glass Walker gives the younger one a wry half-smile. "When I'm convinced you're ready, we'll move you somewhere else. Without locked doors. Consider this part to be boot camp. You won't spend your whole cubhood locked up in isolation."

Cassiel ughs. "Boot camp. That makes it sound even more fun," she comments as she rolls her eyes. "But how will I be able to convince you? I mean, I haven't tried to get away yet, and I've been pretty good about being locked away in this box with no contact whatsoever to the outside world. And I won't even start on the new music I'm probably missing..."

Salem screws the top back on the bottle of water and pushes to his feet. "Where would you go, if I opened the door and let you out right now?" The mismatched eyes study her intently.

Cassiel sits up and shrugs. "Maybe back to my apartment? To actually get registered for school like I was supposed to, and to definately call my mom and let her know I'm okay. She's probably having a fit right now." She picks up the ignana and puts him back in her lap. "If you're worried about me contacting the media or police, don't be. I don't like narcs, and reporters annoy me. Besides, I don't want to be known as 'that crazy chick' for the rest of my life."

"And when people ask where you've been? When your mother wants to know why you went missing?" Salem's gaze remains steady on the girl.

Cassiel stares back. "They'll think I was out partying, scanning the local music circuit for new stuff. I've done it before. And my mom would just think I was being irresponsible. I'm a young adult, we do that sort of thing. I know my brother did."

Salem holds the gaze as he slips the plastic 16oz bottle into one of the big side pockets of his coat. "All right. Go on, then." Without looking away from her, he steps back and to the side, freeing the path toward the unlocked door. "Take what you can carry, and you can pick up the rest tomorrow or whenver you wish. The neighborhood's poor, but there's a bus stop down at the corner."

Cassiel warily eyes the Walker, then shakes her head. "I won't leave tonight. I'll wait until morning, that way you can lead me to my car, and I can drive it back here to get my stuff. No sense in rushing. I've been here this long, another night won't kill me."

Salem nods. "Fair enough. Get some sleep, then. I'll come by in the morning and bring a box or two."

Cassiel manages a bit of a smile, then curls up on the mattress. "See you then. Unless you 'accidentally' forget or something."

"I always forget on purpose," Salem retorts, with arch humor. He heads for the door. "Good night, Cassiel." He leaves... and for once, does not lock the door behind him. Isn't trust sweet?

Cassiel just shakes her head as Salem exits. She's still not sure what to make of the odd fellow...