"Welcome to the club."

[hazlogs]

It is currently 19:22 Pacific Time on Tue Jun 24 2003.

Currently in Saint Claire, it is mostly sunny today. The temperature is 72 degrees Fahrenheit (22 degrees Celsius). The wind is calm today. The barometric pressure reading is 30.17 and falling, and the relative humidity is 40 percent. The dewpoint is 47 degrees Fahrenheit (8 degrees Celsius.)

Currently the moon is in the waning Crescent Moon phase (31% full).

Location: the Caern

At the center, Kansas seems to perk as she hears the soft chuff. At the foolishness of her little experiment, she drops the stones and brushed her hands across her upper legs as she turns to look towards Fights-for-Hope. "Good evening," she says quietly.

At the center, Fights-For-Hope approaches closer to the Get cub, who was till now balancing stones in her hands and his posture seems confused at Firestarter's dropping of the stones. You stopped.

At the center, "Stoped what?" the cub asks, looking confused. She flickers her bangs from her eyes as she looks to the elder of her tribe.

Salem steps carefully on the wet ground around the waterfall, arms dangling loosely at his sides. A bland gaze notes the two Get of Fenris and he moves to join them in the center, grunting a hello.

Fights-For-Hope steps a bit closer now, nosing one of the pebbles she dropped in answer to her question.

Kansasnotices Salem venturing down the path towards the caern towards then and turns back to Fights-For-Hope with an abashed expression drifting across her face. "Oh, nothing. I was just..." she lingers as she looks up to the Glass Walker Philodox. "Hello Salem," she says unexpressionately.

Fights-For-Hope then looks up quickly as Salem makes himself heard, once spotting the elder Philodox he noses Kansas.~You will not get a better chance.~ This said, he tilts his head towards Salem and gives a respectful chuff. Salem-yuf.

Salem arches an eyebrow. "Not get a better chance for what?" He nods to the Get Theurge, absently, his attention focussing directly on the cub.

Kansas stumbles up to her feet. "I have been placed on my Rite of Passage, Salem-rhya." she begins, "My task is to fing another Philodox in the sept who is already of rank and convince the person to judge me in my task. Then I will judge a contest between two Garou of Jamethon-rhya's choosing, and I must determine the winner. If the Philodox of rank agrees with me, then I will be Cliath." She pauses for a moment, "Would you be kind enough to accept the honor of being the judge of rank on my Rite of Passage, Salem-rhya?"

Salem cocks his head, regarding Kansas neutrally for a moment. Then he nods curtly. "I'll do it." He turns to Jamethon. "When's this judging going to be?"

Fights-For-Hope nods his lupine head in a rather human fashion when Salem accepts. ~First of all, thank you. Secondly... now that you are the ranking philodox, I must find appropriate Garou for the challenge. Then the challenge must be set. If you have any ideas...?~ His barking trails off in a question.

Salem thinks for a moment, then shakes his head. "Nothing that I know of. Not at the moment, anyway."

Kansas watches both of the elders, remaining silent in the meantime.

Fights-For-Hope nods to this once more. ~I will make the choices then, and I will let the two of you know. Prepare yourself Firestarter.~

"You know how to reach me," the Walker tells the older of the two Get, mildly. His eye wanders the caern. "Anything of interest that I should know about? I heard that two of my packmates were involved in an incident the other night."

Fights-For-Hope thinks on Salem's words for a moment, trying to remember those in the Roach pack. ~Oh. A tainted spider spirit got found itself on the bawn apparently. It was attacked and taken care of by Sheeghan and others with her... including other children of Cockroach.~

Kansas gives a small shake of her head as she looks to the elder Glass Walker. "I'm not allowed to roam around the bawn anymore," she says. "That Silver Fang elder, uh - Tobin? Yeah, well he said I cannot go roaming around." Then she straightens her shoulders. "Uh? Spirit spider?"

Salem grunts at Jamethon. "Alicia and Yi. Alicia was injured." He arches a brow at Kansas. "You're not allowed to wander on the Bawn?"

Fights-For-Hope eyes Kansas deeply with narrowed lids as she says this last part. ~He said what?... Nevermind. If he so much as opens his mouth to you once again, tell him he is but a guardian... there to protect us from the Wyrm. He is not the Warder, who is here to protect us from the Wyrm as well as ourselves. Tell him you are on the path to being Rited, and you have my full and express permission to go where you need, when you need to. Tell that child that he can bring his scrawny ass to the den if he has a problem with that.~

Kansas nods her head slowly. "That 'em, Silver Fang elder said I wasn't allowed to. He looked like he was going to give me some corporal punishment if I told him that I wasn't going to go around disobeying him." The younger Philodox imediately closes her mouth upon hearing Fights-For-Hope. "Yes, sir." she murmurs to her elder.

Fights-For-Hope grunts again at this, more then just annoyed, a little rage peaks through despite the slim moon.

Salem's mouth thins. "There's a story behind this," the halfmoon says mildly. "What were you doing when he told you this, Kansas?"

Kansas looks to Salem, trying to think back to what she was doing when she was caught on the bawn by the Silver Fang. "I was following Luke-rhya around the northern bawn." The young Get of Fenris cub says guiltily, "but I was doing no wrong, I was curious and he didn't mind it. He didn't get upset at me. Then Tobin-rhya showed up and got mad at me for being on the bawn."

Salem looks bemused. He rubs at his bearded chin for a moment, then asks, "Was Tobin acting strangely at all? Did he speak with an accent, anything like that? What was Luke's reaction to what he said?"

Fights-For-Hope looks at Kansas once more at Salem's questioning, his tall and assured posture seems to say his thoughts are already set, no matter Tobin's state of mind.

"No," says the Kansas. "We was being an arogant, pompus..." she looks up to her elders and pales color in her cheeks. "I have more brains than more than half of 'em other cubs," she states.

Salem arches an eyebrow at the cub's assertation but doesn't comment on it. He turns to Jamethon. "In my experience, Tobin's not a fool," he tells the Get. "Nor is he generally rash. I would suggest speaking to him and asking him why he made such a command." The Walker's tone is all schooled neutrality.

Fights-For-Hope turns his huffing demenor towards Salem, but finally relents. ~Very well. I cannot allow Firestarter to take from a Philodox I will not trust the judgement of myself. I will speak with him and see to his reasoning, though he has made false steps towards me. But this is between between Calls-Spirits and myself.~

Kansas raises her eyebrow but says nothing at all. The younger Get crosses her arms against her chest as she looks between the two.

Salem nods, hands slipping into the pockets of his BDUs. His head cocks, studying Jamethon for a moment. "You're Get elder now, I imagine," he says. "Since Owen has retired to the park with the rest of Reforged."

Fights-For-Hope stops now, as if never having considered the thoughts Salem just mentioned. His posture stiffens and he shifts to homid, standing up. "I will serve as I must. Owen maybe gone for a time, and till then, or till someone can prove themself a better fit through right of challenge. I will serve."

Salem's smile is thin and humorless. "Welcome to the club."

Jamethon wasn't quite expecting this reaction either, but never the less, is brought to a grin from it. "Thank you." He says, gruffly, in response. "You've been elder of your tribe for a time now. How are you faring?"

Kansas drops at her side and watches Fights-rhya, slowly nodding her head. She then gives a short-huff sound and contorts to lupus and wanders the interior of the caern.

Jamethon Ethan Black is a good size of a man, about five or six inches above six feet and looking to have about two hundred and ninety or so pounds on him as well, most of this being muscle. His normally thick and unshaven beard has been for once cleared away from his now clean shaven face, which is a mask of concentration most times, dancing black eyes that always seem to be peering forward yet still seeing all around him. Long black hair with the beginnings of greying fading into view, cascades down his back, wild in form and hanging to just below his waist. He isn't too fond of dressing stuffily it seems, for all that James wears is a clean t-shirt, and a pair of loose but well-fitted black sweatpants, the shoes on his feet are but cork sandles. Under his t-shirt, covered up and only visible when the fabric of his shirt has been removed, on his chest is a massive scar, fleshy and tortured like an old third-degree burn. A large myriad collection of scars adorn his visage at other various points as well.

Jamethon pages to the room: Hrm. Somehow my jacket appears to be missing from my @desc. There should be a leather jacket in there as well, Salem.

Salem's broad shoulders move in a slight shrug. "Well enough. The tribe's doing well enough. We take care of each other."

Jamethon reaches down, kneeling to scratch at Kansas' coat. "As all tribes, and indeed all Garou should. Some forget this... some desire power for power's sake, not the good it can do. While they can still do good... their deeds lack honor, and are often tainted with the lack of wisdom as well. Let that too, be a lesson Kansas. Power is fine thing to desire, but ambition must make way to duty... The need for it is only the need the Garou nation and indeed Gaia has for you to attain this power. Not just personal gain."

Firestarter narrows her eyes slightly as Jamethon scratches her coat. Icy blue irises look up to her own elder, before drifting towards the Glass Walker elder. I hear, she chuffs to her elder. I listen to your words.

Salem makes a sound of agreement and looks thoughtful. His eyes narrow; he's not looking precisely at either Get. "You for the Fenrir, me for the Glass Walkers. Renee for the Gnawers, and Alicia replaced Andrea as the Voice of the Goddess, for the Children. Little Bear has the Wendigo, Helen still holds the Furies." A catalog of the Sept's tribal elders, it seems. His mouth thins. "Uktena, Talons, and Stargazers... nonexistent, more or less."

Jamethon doesn't mention if he was refering to any one person or group of people, but his expression definatly speaks more then his words do. He nods as the list of Elders is given by Salem, a few suprised raisings of an eyebrow here and there, but thats about it. James looks back down towards Kansas once Salem is finished, "Until you pass your rite, I'm going to have to assume that you just might not have heard me." He sighs, expression darkening as he looks to Salem once more. "Oh, I don't know if you have heard yet. A new Talon is around. Rain-Falls-Up. A very open-minding soul for a Red Talon. Hear Kaz has even made a friendship with her or something of the sort." He looks up at the sky now, "The moon shrinks, but the Umbra must still be patrolled near the Caern... So I must leave you for a time, I will return after I make my rounds."

Salem arches an eyebrow. The Glass Walker looks rather skeptical at the thought of an open-minded Red Talon. He grunts, giving the Theurge a curt nod. "Cockroach watch your steps, Fenrir."

Firestarter nods to Jamethon. I will be at the farmhouse until I hear from you again, she chuffs.

Jamethon nods to the lupine cub and with a slow controlled blurring into the Crinos form, he steps towards the cairn of stones preparing to step sideways. ~Anything else you require of me for now?~ he asks with a deep gutteral growling over his shoulder towards the two.

Salem shakes his head. "Nothing at the moment. Have a good evening, Jamethon."

The young Get of Fenris replies with a small shake of her own muzzle towards her elder.

Fights-For-Hope just grunts at the replies, and touching the stones, his massive Crinosed frame fades from view.

When the Get Theurge has left, Salem turns his attention back to the caern in general, taking it in with a thoughtful, pensive expression. His gaze wanders upward toward the knife-moon, and his nostrils flare as he inhales.

Firestarter watches the Glass Walker elder for a moment before she gives a chuff of thanks and begins to make her way towards the farmhouse at a leasuired pace.

"Good night, Kansas," Salem murmurs, without looking at her.

Eventually, a wolf trots into the centre of the caern, sniffing the air. Upon seeing Salem, Whispers sits and greets him.

That face stands out - the black nose and lips, and those deep brown eyes contrasting with the light brown/yellow of his muzzle and cheeks. You could almost describe those wide, dark ears as being square. Dark grey extends from between those eyes, and runs up and covers his head like a pilot's leather cap, then continues where it fades to black along his spine. His flanks are brown, blending into yellow on the underside, to match the colour of those strong, thin legs, right to the exposed black claws.

Salem stirs from his thoughts and turns toward the sound. He views the arrival with a flat, calculating gaze. "Evening," he says, with curt politeness. "And you are?"

I'm Whispers. One of Four-Leaves' children. Sees-True-Nature introduced us, the wolf says, hoping Salem will remember.

Salem squints a bit, then grunts and nods. "The latest rat-dog. I remember." His tone is cold. Not threatening, but not friendly either. "How long does she have you out here for?"

Whispers detects the cold attitude and he flattens his ears back. I don't know. I was going to leave soon but now Four-Leaves has given me a task. I need to stay here to complete it.

Salem takes his hands out of his pockets and folds his arms across his chest. "What task?"

I'm not good at fighting... I have to fight against other Cubs and win three of them. One in Homid, one in Crinos and one in Lupus. No teeth. I've already had one, but I lost. The Gnawer looks down as he says this.

Salem grunts, taking this in. "Who did you fight, and in which form?"

It was Darkfeather. He chose Glabro so... that's what we did. The Fury Elder - I don't remember her other names - watched us and stopped us before we could finish it. But I was losing...

The Walker's brow furrows. "Darkfeather? Mmn." His head cocks; he studies the young Bone Gnawer with one dark brown eye. "Besides Darkfeather, have you ever fought anyone? Before your first change or after?"

The wolf stops and thinks this over. Not really. Only with Fixes-Stuff, but that was when I did change. Before then, I always got beaten up, but didn't fight back...

Salem shakes his head and makes a 'get up' sort of gesture. "Shift up. Homid. Follow me." He turns and heads out of the caern without waiting to see if the cub follows.

Karl (in Homid)

This kid is around 5'2" and looks to be in his mid-teens, with dark hair that /was/ sculpted into a "bowl cut" and neatly parted down the centre - it's now something of a greasy scruffy mess. His pale skin has seen some sunlight in recent weeks and has a tinge of healthy colour to it. His nose displays a few faint freckles from childhood that haven't quite yet faded.

His very baggy blue jeans barely hang at his hips and are wearing out at the back of the cuffs where his dirty bare feet keep treading on them. The faded green teeshirt displays a few splotches of fast-food grease where washing won't remove them. A well-fitting black zip-up tracksuit jacket keeps him warm. His gangly fram once screamed "bookworm" or "computer geek", but now it's gained an added "...and I've spent the past month in a dumpster looking for old copies of National Geographic/PC Format".

Salem sets a brisk pace toward the farmhouse, his long legs eating up the ground with confidence. The short teenager likely has trouble keeping up with the much taller Garou.

Big Red Barn

The barn is built in the old style, a vast three level structure that is greater in height than a mere three stories, actually closer to five. Great wooden posts support the weight of the upper levels and roof, sunk into the hard-packed dirt floor of the first level like a sparse forest of regularly spaced, naked trees. The stalls and flagstones which once were here have been torn out to leave a rather open area where even crinos Garou may roam freely without fear of running into anything but the supports or the walls or the ladder at the back which allows access to the other two levels.

The first two levels are relatively open to each other, the second being only little wider than a catwalk going around all the walls but the front one, which has massive, twenty foot tall doors set into it. The third level is a true second floor except for a place cut out that allowed hay to be tossed down to the ground floor when the farm was actually worked. Now, it is a hayloft where Garou can sleep outside of the house.

Salem paces to the center of the barn, cracking his knuckles in a less-than-comforting way. He turns toward the cub and commands, "Shift up. Glabro."

Slightly puffed and with more than an inkling as to where this is going, Karl stands looking at the older man uneasily. "Uh... okay." He shifts into Glabro and awaits the next instruction.

Salem eyes the cub critically. Even in Glabro, Karl's shorter than the Walker Elder. After a moment, he nods and says, briskly, "This isn't a sparring match, or a battle. This is a lesson. Doesn't count toward your task for Lyra. Understood?"

Karl nods. "No. Er, I mean yes. Yes, I understand."

Salem cracks his knuckles again, then lets his arms fall loosely to his sides. "Good. Now try to strike me." Despite the fact that he's still in human form, the Walker seems more than confident; his body shifts easily into a readied stance.

Karl mumbles, "This is going to hurt... Me." Louder, to Salem, he says "Go easy on me, okay?" He stands up straight, takes a deep breath, and walks to within striking distance. He tenses and throws a half-hearted punch at Salem's left shoulder.

With practiced grace, Salem sidesteps and delivers a solid cuff to the cub's ear. "Pathetic." He steps back, circling. "My shoulder? What good is hitting me _there_ going to do? Try again."

The Glabro Cub instinctively clutches his ear. "Ow..." Slightly peeved, he strikes out again, this time with a fast, yet light, thrust at Salem's stomach.

Salem blocks this one with a grunt. Still unhurt, but he nods curtly. "Better... felt the anger that time?" His mismatched eyes are intent, hawkish.

Karl nods slowly, his eyes show understanding. "Keep it coming? And you'll keep blocking?"

"If you can get one through," the Walker says dryly, "I'll buy your elder dinner." He takes a step back and makes a 'come on' gesture.

Karl relaxes his stance a little, allowing for more free movement. Locking his gaze onto his opponent's chest, he inhales sharply and quickly steps closer, directing a clenched a fist dead on for his cheek.

The young Gnawer tries gamely, dozens of times, but gets nothing through; what Salem doesn't block, he dodges... and he makes it look _easy_. Occasionally, when Karl's strike is too hesitant, the Walker delivers another hard cuff to the ear. Finally, Salem calls a halt and grunts. "Better. Not great... but better." He doesn't appear winded; indeed, the exercise seems more like a warm-up for him.

Karl nods, somewhat proud of himself. "Thanks, Salem-rhya. A lot," he smiles.

Salem doesn't smile back. "Remember your rage. It's a burden anytime you're not fighting, but when you are it's your greatest asset. Listen to it. Learn to channel it. You barely touched on it tonight."

"Hmm-hmmm. Okay," the Glabro says, scratching the top of his head.

Salem grunts. "You'll understand eventually. One more bit of advice. Start running. In homid. It's your weakest form, so you might as well toughen it up." His tone hasn't gotten any friendlier; he's like that teacher in school who knows his stuff but who you can't make friends with. Ever. The kind where it seems like if you tried you'd regret it. "Plus, in the city, you can't rely on being able to shift. You've been told about the Veil, yes?" He stares down at Karl, his expression flat.

"Yes," Karl says seriously. "Yes, I have. It must be protected at all costs." For a moment he looks as though he is about to say more, but he soon drops it.

Salem nods curtly. "I have to head back for the evening. If your elder approves, I'll continue to teach you, when I'm out here. Presuming that I don't have some duty that takes precident." He lifts an eyebrow. "Any questions?"

"No, no questions. And I'm sure it's okay. I've asked Lyra about learning to fight from others and she was all for it," the boy-beast smiles.

Salem's smile is small, tight, and utterly humorless. "Lyra isn't your elder. Renee is. Ask _her_ if you can learn from me." He starts for the door, adding, "Make sure you shift back to homid before you leave the barn."