"Are you asking why I'm challenging, or why I've chosen you to challenge?"

[hazlogs]

It is currently 17:24 Pacific Time on Wed Feb 5 2003.

Currently in Saint Claire, it is mostly sunny today. The temperature is 44 degrees Fahrenheit (6 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from the northeast at 10 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 30.33 and steady, and the relative humidity is 70 percent. The dewpoint is 35 degrees Fahrenheit (1 degrees Celsius.)

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

Cave on the Island

The entrance to this hole in the ground shows signs of many passings, the rough edges of the soft rock are worn away. Inside, you find a comfortably large limestone cave. Stalactites hang from the ceiling, but are high enough overhead so as not to wound careless foreheads. The floor of the cave has been smoothed out, and is surprisingly clean, indicating that the dweller herein has taken pains to make it so. There's probably room for two or three people to sleep stretched out. A small fire pit resides near the entrance, and the air currents fortuitously carry any smoke out of the entrance. A couple of stalagmites have been hewn off and now act as low tables. Whoever lives here shows a knack for making things comfortable.(+view)

A well worn passageway leads out to the narrow hidden entrance to the cave. It's a bit of a scramble to get out.

From a distance, at the edge of Ouroboros's territory, Salem howls -- a short but polite request for permission to enter.

Tempered-Blade's howl echos back: Welcome.

The Glass Walker arrives at the cave some time later, shifting to human form as he ducks inside. "Evening. Is Andrea in?"

Tempered-Blade is curled up licking the remains of her dinner. She is speaking with Jade. I do not know if she will stop anytime soon.

Tempered-Blade

It would be hard to mistake this wolf for anything completely natural. When the light strikes just right, hints of silver flash from beneath the dark grey and black fur of this wolf, gleaming far brighter than normal grey fur. Tempered-Blade holds herself with far more poise and command than any normal wolf could muster, and her vivid green eyes shine with a bright amusement.

Her fur shades to black on her muzzle, legs and tail and is kept fastidiously clean. Muddy paws are tolerated, but ground in dirt is not. In this form, the wolf smells of slightly damp fur and pine needles with a faint hint of a metallic tang.

"Ah." Salem thins his mouth, looking faintly disappointed, and then shrugs it off. "I'll seek her out another night. Actually, I'm glad to run into you, at least, Tempered-Blade."

Tempered-Blade is not sure howling a request to enter our territory counts as running into, but she will accept that. Why?

Salem smiles rather crookedly, then folds his arms across his chest and gives her a direct look. "Because I'd like to challenge you for Rank."

Tempered-Blade cocks her head to one side. You would, would you? And why is that?

Salem cocks his head. "Are you asking why I'm challenging, or why I've chosen you to challenge?"

Tempered-Blade follows Jade. Do you really expect her to clarify her questions?

"Touche," says the Glass Walker, with a wry little chuckle. He rubs his chin. "Ideally, of course, I'd ask another Philodox, or another Glass Walker. Neither are available. Lacking that, I can think of no better moon to ask for a test than a Ragabash."

Tempered-Blade flicks her ears back, amused.

"Particularly," Salem adds, "a sharp-minded Ragabash with the wits to follow a spirit like Uktena."

Tempered-Blade laps at the bone. Flattery will get you everywhere.

Salem replies, dryly, "It rarely hurts." He arches an eyebrow. "I understand, though, if you don't wish to give an answer now. Even if you wish to wait for the next Moot."

Tempered-Blade wishes to know the answer to the first question that you asked. Why you challenge?

Salem tucks his hands into his pockets; his lips purse. "Because it's time," he answers simply. "I've served my tribe at every level, from omega to alpha. I've done my duty to the Sept and been there for whatever was required, and I've kept my tribe together following the loss of our previous elder." He meets her eyes. "I deserve the chance to prove myself worthy of Fostern," he says, without any false modesty. "And I intend to get that chance."

Tempered-Blade nods her head. I accept. At the next moot, I will name your challenge.

Tempered-Blade slicks back her ears and looks up at you thoughtfully. If you were setting a challenge for yourself, what would you test?

Salem smiles. It's faint, but genuine. "Thank you." Then he sobers, pondering the question for a moment. "Honestly? Something to show that I really am a Philodox, and not just an Ahroun with delusions of grandeur." That wry touch can be heard in his voice again.

Tempered-Blade has always respected the half-moons. We have too few at this sept, she fears.

Salem nods. "Unfortunately, yes. Still, young Lyra has potential, and Francisco will do well once he's recovered from his ordeal."

Tempered-Blade cocks her head. She does not know the last.

"Skyscraper?" Salem asks. "Taller than me. Thin. Tends to look rather punk. Colored hair, multiple piercings, that kind of thing." His mouth thins. "He's missing the piercings now, but still has the tattoos."

Tempered-Blade looks down at the silver tracings that run through her forelegs -- just visible underneath the fur. They are harder to make go away.

Salem studies the Fianna's lupine form and nods slowly. "True. Unfortunately, the cost laser surgery is, mm, prohibitive."

Tempered-Blade chuffs softly. Mine turned to silver-colors after I was cleansed. It is not something I would recommend to the faint-of-heart.

Salem's eyes narrow faintly. "No... the silver rivers aren't something to commit oneself to lightly." He cocks his head. "Why did your pack take that path, by the way? Somehow, I've missed hearing that story." One corner of his mouth quirks upward. "Or a decent summary of it."

Tempered-Blade will tell if, if you never let Faces-Shadows know that I did so. It was his fault.

Salem smiles crookedly and gives the Fianna a Boy Scout salute. "On my honor as a Philodox. My lips are sealed."

Tempered-Blade chuffs. It will not help. He can find out secrets. But ... "I will simply have to hope he can't catch me to kill me." Susan shakes out her braids as she shifts and says, "Do you even know why we travelled to Erebus?"

Salem lowers himself to the floor of the cave, sitting crosslegged. He shakes his head. "I'm guessing that it happened while I was away from the Sept"

Susan nods. "There was a fetish that was unravelling and needed to be purified. Ouroborus -- and I was very new to the pack at this time -- agreed to take it to the Silver River for cleansing."

Salem rests his elbows on his knees, steepling his fingers between them. "Makes sense. A normal Rite of Cleansing wasn't sufficient, then?"

Susan shakes her head. "Not even close, I'm afraid. Erebus -- like many things in the Umbra -- has its own set of rules that you must follow. One of those rules is that you're challenged by a guardian."

Salem cocks his head slightly. "Challenged? How so?"

Susan shake her head. "I don't honestly remember it clearly. The memory blur from the Silver River extends some in both directions. But you must pass the Guardian without fighting. Patrick took offense at something and the guardian attempted to throw him into the river. As his packmates, we objected to this, so we all went tumbling in. Along with the fetish which I imagine is still there."

"Christ," Salem mutters. He grimaces. "Is it as bad as they say?"

Susan fiddles with her braids. "The Lady of the River blunts your memories. I remember being cleansed; remember some pain, but not nearly as much as I know was there. And it is not torture. That's important to remember. The silver purifies, and much of the agony comes from realizing that you are not what the Mother wishes you to be."

Salem nods, lips thinned. "Still, thank Gaia for blunted memories."

Susan nods. "Oh yes. Very much so. Still, I can not imagine who I would be had it not come to pass.

"None of us would be who we are, if not for our scars." Salem smiles thinly. "Inward and outward." He takes out a brass pocketwatch and glances at it.

Susan yawns. "I should go check on Andrea and Jade. Make sure Jade hasn't completely befuddled the Alpha."

Salem stands up, tucking the pocketwatch away. "And I should get back to the city." He inclines his head to the Fianna. "Thank you again, by the way. Please give Andrea my regards, and let her know I'm available at her convenience."

Susan nods. "Will do!"

"Gaia walk with you," Salem says in farewell, and then departs.