Moot: December 2003

[hazlogs]

It is currently 17:57 Pacific Time on Tue Dec 9 2003.

Currently the moon is in the waning Full Moon phase (94% full).

Center of the Caern

This area of the clearing is about 30 meters wide and is a mixture of dark soil and clay throughout. The ground is mostly mud, but patches of grass, halted by winter's cold, are beginning to peek through the ground and take root. Near the center of the clearing, a small cairn has been built with white stone and quartz--what was left of the beautiful boulder that was once there. None of the stones is bigger than a softball.

Around you, twenty yards in every direction, stretches the caern. To the southeast, a waterfall plummets over the edge of the chasm into a small pool in the caern; nearby, to the southwest, steam comes from cracks in the ground, perhaps some of the same water. Northwest, a rocky spar juts out of the ground at a low angle, showing a sloping but smooth top. The chasm walls narrow a bit to the northeast, causing some of the mist to swirl in that area.

Tabia says "Seeker's said he was gonna Rite me. Don't think it'll happen t'night or anythin', but hopefully soon."

Karl smiles, "Well that's good news."

Salem stalks into the cearn, the tails of his long black coat flaring back with each stride of his long legs. The Walker's mood and manner is tight and dour -- unsurprising, considering the moonphase.

Tabia looks to Doc, and asks, "Done any more thinkin' 'bout what our pack totem's gonna be?"

"Karl likes coyote. You like coyote. Coyote is okay with me. I do not know what Emma thinks." Doc grunts all this out. She slides her hands in her pockets. "Haven't seen much of her."

"Have either of you spoken to her about... her concerns?" Karl asks with a slight frown.

Adrian walks into the Caern quietly. The cub has been here a million times it seems, but tonight he looks around at it in a whole new way. He sighs just a bit as he walks around, as if plotting something.

Adrian stands at 5'8" and appears to be around 17 years of age. His body is starting to fill out nicely due to his well known daily routine of working out. Though not physically imposing, it seems he could hold his own in a scrap if needed. His body taunt with muscle, like a swimmer or runner.

His long blonde hair hangs loose, resting on his shoulders and falling back to hang between his shoulder blades. A rougue strand or two falls in his face, covering his cobalt blue eyes, which often sparkle. His Nordic features are difficult to miss. High cheek bones, full lips that seem destined to be kissed often. He's definitely growing into his looks and becoming quite the hottie. His skin tanned from spending so much time outside.

A necklace of rainbow colored links adorns his neck. Two gold hoops, one in each ear, catch the light occasionally. He wears a tight pair of 501's, leaving little to the imagination. He is currently bare chested, the better to show off his abs and muscles. Payoff of all of the working out he is known to do. He is barefooted.

"I would if I ever saw her," the Black Fury growls in mild frustration. "I see her hunting and stuff, we acknowledge one another, and we end up going our separate ways."

Alicia and Dakota make their way into the Caern, dressed warmly for the winter night out in the cold.

Tabia says "Seen 'er, but last I heard, she was likin' badger. An' I never heard a' him. Haven't talked t'her 'bout it in a while, though."

Karl nods slowly, watching more folks arrive. When Alicia and Dakota turn up, he smiles and makes his way over to them.

Adrian finally stops pacing and stands off on his own, a slight shiver.

Salem glances sidelong at the knot of cubs and cliaths planning a pack, grunts, and paces through the caern, settling at a spot somewhat separate from the others. Too tense to sit and rest, he simply stands and waits, hands buried in his coat pockets.

The Shadow Lord elder emerges from the night's gloom into the Caern's center. He is dressed, not surprisingly in a black longcoat. His dark eyes appraise the gathered garou silently as he makes his way to a large tree nearby.

Adrian sees Salem and nods politely to him, a greeting, a show of respect.

Doc watches Karl head over to his tribe mates. She watches Salem watch her and Tabia and Karl and she finally grunts again and crosses her arms, propping her leg up agianst a tree and narrowing her eyes.

From her spot a step behind Alicia, Dakota spies the approach of Karl and offers him a grin. "Hey, what's up?" She asks of her fellow cub.

Renee slips into the Caern and comes to a stop next to the scowling Walker, where she crosses her arms.

By the waterfall, Firewatcher pads down the trail, and pauses here to sniff at the ground. She laps from the pool briefly. She shakes her fur out, then heads to the center to join the rest of the Garou there.

Salem cocks his head and fixes his good eye down on Renee. One eyebrow lifts inquiringly.

Renee stands at a height of 5'4 inches tall and is probably somewhere in her mid to late teens. The young woman's hair is mid shoulder length and shows off a striking dye job; alternating streaks of bright blue and solid black. It's been some time since the dye job was renewed and good inch or so of brown is exposed as new hair grows in. The Gnawer's eyes are a deep chocolate brown and have a habit of darting around, taking in everything surrounds her. This gives the young woman a wary aura. Fine white scars decorate Renee's gaunt face, near-invisible testimony to a difficult and violent existence. When the young woman speaks, her voice is rough and misused.

The Gnawer's lean figure is partially disguised by heavy, fashion less, utilitarian clothing. A small nondescript t-shirt, with a heavier and well-worn flannel shirt over the top. The sleeves of the ill-fitting garment are rolled up to her skinny wrists, exposing the edges of tightly wrapped and stained bandages. Denim jeans - baggy at the legs and tighter at the waist - are kept up with the aid of a well-worn (and in places, broken) leather belt. The faded utilitarian pants display a number of small rips and tears. Far from designer ripping; the holes are a testament to a rough lifestyle. The pants almost cover a formidable pair of black, scuffed, steel-toed boots.

"Well," Karl says with a smile and turning to Alicia, "I was wondering if I should take the bones tonight and make an announcement."

Erika comes into the caern, looking a little red in the face from the cold wind against her face. The Get of Fenris looks as ridged and blank-expressioned as always. She is soon followed by a Fianna in lupus, Sheeaghan, who snoops around the outer rim of those gathered to try to pick up a body to sit next to.

Alicia tilts her head to Karl and offers a grin. "Whatcha ganna tell 'em? You got shot with a bullet an survived?" She teases.

Reggie comes in from the chilly wind of the mountains, his cheeks ruddy as he hugs his fur close to his body.

Karl chuckles. "Heh, no. That I am under your paw now. I don't know if you want to tell them, or if I should."

Adrian moves over to the steam vents to catch some warmth. He looks around, as if watching for someone.

By the steam vents, With an explosive hiss, a blast of superheated steam tumbles aside a few rocks and billows into the air. Where it meets the cooler mist to the northeast, masses of fog expand outwards into the Caern before they dissipate slowly into the air.

Two familiar figures make their way into the caern in lupus, one the red-brown Fostern Fianna Jeadagh, the other his Wendigo packmate Brings-Buffalo. A third accompanies them, also in lupus, though Taslyn may well be unfamiliar to some.

Sidhefuil arrives on four legs, making good use of her fur coat to guard against an evening cooler than she enjoys. Pausing to briefly scan the crowd, she circles the area once at a trot, then finds a place to sit.

Alicia grins wryly. "You can do it." She explains to Karl, nodding her head slowly with a broad smile on her face.

Eamon looks around with raised eyebrows, impressed. "Quite a turnout tonight."

DefendsHerWorth pads in behind Jeadagh and Brings-Buffalo. She looks about to all assembled and tries to find a face she knows.

Erika looks across to the Wendigo and the Fianna of her pack, giving them a quick nod of her head. The Norse-looking woman has been looking a tad more grown-up lately, fairly more older than when she first arrived to Hidden Walk. She keeps her back militantly straight and crosses her arms against her chest.

Adrian smiles and nods to Defends Her Worth. The young cub is starting to look nervous.

Rain-Falls-Up settles back on her haunches, sitting alertly, eyes bright and ears perked. Her muzzle opens, tongue lolling out as the Red Talon begins to pant with excitement.

Jarred steps a few feet to his front left, approaching Adrian. He whispers something into the cub's ear, his face impassive and unreadable as always. Hands clasped behind his back, he returns to his place by an old oak and continues watching the parade of arriving lupines.

Firewatcher catches a familiar voice, and pads over to bump up against Eamon.

Rain-Falls-Up is a good-sized wolf with a thick fur coat. In her is a fine example of _Canis lupus_, a purely wild animal and a true predator. Long legs and large paws carry her confidently along; she has heavy jaws and prominent claws.

The Red Talon's pelt is a reddish-brown color, darker along her back from nose to tail-tip and paling to cream underneath. Black tips her bushy tail, her upright ears, and her keen, intelligent hazel eyes. A close look reveals gray and white and yellow hairs scattered throughout, and there are light areas around her eyes and upon her cheeks and lower muzzle. Her left front paw is a strikingly red color, almost scarlet.

Three-Blades arrives after hearing the howl to gather, immediately scenting about before sitting with her pack.

Jeadagh shifts up to the warform as he moves, heading over to stand with his Get packmate.

Signe climbs her way down into the caern, brushing the dirt off her hands onto the legs of her pants. She spends a moment just looking around, remembering, before finding someplace to stand and watch.

Cutter finds a place near the back to stand quietly, and Shadow sits next to him.

Adrian keeps his eyes on Olga catiously, moving away from her as she comes by him.

Standing by Alicia and Dakota, Karl looks around as wolves arrive from right, left and center. His attention lingers on the less-familiar, particularly that red one...

Shadow comes in tagging at Cutter's heels, staying close to the Fostern theurge.

DefendsHerWorth walks over to Adrian and gives him a bit of a nudge on his leg, it's a garou he knows if only in homid.

Dakota squints slightly at the crowd, leaning over to poke Karl and mutter lowly to him. "Think we can find that Talon we were told to look for?"

Rain-Falls-Up uses a hind foot to scratch an itch in the thick ruff of fur around her neck, then resumes her alert, seated observation of everything going on around her.

Adrian smiles at Jarred. He nods to the Shadow Lord, "Thank you Jarred-rhya." He looks down at Defends and kneels beside her. He smiles at her, "Hello again. I hope you like the tale."

Olga walks along the path from the waterfall to the caern's center, large, floppy shoes flapping on the floor as she goes, gaudy orange bag in close tow, looking around herself blankly at all the pre-event festivities. She doesn't go after anyone in particular, staying for now out of whatever circles are forming, merely giving Adrian a bit of an ambiguous wink when she passes him.

Karl shrugs and murmurs back to Dakota, "Don't know. Maybe you could take the bones and make and announcement too." He grins at her.

Sheeaghan looks across the caern, spotting familiar tribemates. The co-Gatekeeper tilts her head, watching those gather with slight interest. Her ears flicker forward on her pale head. Hrm. As she sees Jarred, she wanders towards him. Long time since she has seen him, she growls lowly as she arrives.

Alicia makes her way through the gathered Garou, glancing them over one by one, counting in the back of her mind all the heads and bodies that makes up the group.

Charlie, having apparently come along with Signe, surprisingly enough, looks a bit annoyed that the bigger Get made such better time than she did. Despite the fact that the Get knew where she was going, and the no-moon was simply trying to keep up. Then, the city-born and bred Fianna takes the time to actually let appreciation sink in, for the area in which she now stands.

Taslyn decides to shift to homid, nobody knows her in this form. She moves to the back of the crowd and shifts quickly, coming back into the crowd. She walks over and pats Adrian on the shoulder. "You will be great!" As she gives him a generous smile.

Firewatcher notices Charlie's arrival, and barks over to her, from her place near Eamon.

Dakota smirks and shakes her head at Karl, "Nah. I don't quite think this is the place to stick up a 'Help Wanted' ad. We can ask around after, tho'. Someone's bound to be able to point us in the right direction."

Brings-Buffalo sticks next to Luke, giving the gathered a quick once-over with both eyes and nose, raising his head as he tests the air.

Cutter looks around the caern, spinning an unlit cigarette in his fingertips idly.

Sidhefuil's ears flip forward when she spots Charlie, tail brushing over grass. The halfmoon greets her tribesmate with a cheerful-sounding bark.

Reggie pushes his way through the crowd to the Wendigo's side, giving a nudge in Leo's sides with the toe of his boot, and mutters a few words to him.

Blurring slowly upwards into the war form, Guards-The-Flame throws her head back and howls, paws curling into fists as she tilts her chin upwards, letting the heavens hear her cry.

Eamon suddenly realizes who just bumped him. He stares down in shock for a few moments, slack-jawed. "Holy shit! Megan!"

Alicia howls long and loud.

From Center of the Caern, Alicia can be heard to howl, ~Come brothers and sisters! Join us at the center of our great mother's heart and gather beneath the watchful eye of her sister in the sky!~

After the initial awe subsides, Charlie thumps the Get lightly in the arm, giving her a grateful nod and grin, and heads over to her tribesmates, no doubt to face a little ribbing.

Shadow settles back on her haunches, observing the virtual sea of strangers.

Brings-Buffalo nips at Reggie, able to hear him just fine in lupus from down here.

Adrian looks around for someone again and looks even more nervous.

Signe looks from Charlie to the rest of the waiting Fianna. She stands her ground, though, and doesn't follow if the ragabash joins her tribemates. For the time being, the Get simply observes, nodding on occasion if she spies someone she knows.

Firewatcher bumps Eamon again, but then settles down as Alicia's howl rings out.

Cutter cocks his head and looks towards Megan.

Adrian smiles at Taslyn, "Thanks."

Ever-Grinning shifts to lupus and gives Firewatcher a big slurp in greeting, then howls boisterously to open the moot.

The Red Talon gets quickly to her feet at the howl, her excitement racheting upward. She 'dances' from forepaw to forepaw. By contrast, the saturnine Glass Walker at the other end of the caern has a bland expression; Salem's face is set in a cold, neutral mask.

Erika is obviously here, if her fellow tribesmate notices her or not. The younger Get is standing beside her packmates, the Fianna and the Wendigo. She remains silent and watchful, having not opened her mouth once since she has arrived.

Taslyn nods at Adrian and smiles. She looks about for other faces she knows and sees Charlie. "Hey, Charlie." As a great smile comes across her face, "Good to see you again." Taslyn herself looks nervous and full of anticipation.

Sidhefuil's focus shifts from Charlie to Eamon when she hears his exclamation, eyes settling with disbelief around the wolf at his side. Firewatcher? She's quickly distracted by the opening howl, though, and throws her head up to meet the full moon with her own haunting cry.

The full moon shines her haunting cry on Sidhefuil.

Olga seems to have arrived just in time, then; she drops her bag, throws off her coat, and shifts up into her Crinos form. Fat-Ripper, now, she begins rolling her head from side to side, preparing herself, and then finally throws up her head and her voice to join the growing howl.

By the steam vents, Pacing through the steam is Guards-The-Flame, ears cocking upwards as her dark eyes gleam beneath the soft kiss of the moonlight. She opens up the rounds with the litany, rattling off the first two to Ever-Grinning, who foolishly combats the ancient laws with his own renditions and excuses. The Sept leaps up in defense, calling him down and chiding him for his foolishness. With a rumble, she growls towards the Ragabash. Soon, she questions the roll of ~Respecting another's territory~, waiting for his rebute.

Jarred shifts to his own warform, his clarion clear voice joining the others.

Adrian watches everyone, seeming a bit confused at what to do, having never been to a Moot before.

Erika shifts into crinos and greets the moon with a long howl and Sheeghan soon follows with her own haunting howl that spans across the clear night sky above them. As soon as it is completed, Judges-Souls remains in crinos and crouches to watch the others with her cold blue irises.

Ever-Grinning mutters, ~I'm on,~ to Firewatcher, then takes the warform and begins to circle the caern widdershins, moving among the gathered garou. ~Why should I respect your territory? It's such a pain in the ass to keep sniffing for piss everywhere I go, then howl to be let on the territory, then a hundred yards later start the whole process over again. It's bullshit. If we did that every time we had to go out and fight the Wyrm, we'd never get anything done. It's just a waste of time.~

Taslyn watches the others, she looks between all the others, from her fellow fianna and back to the others. A brow is raised and she still just watches, a newcomer to sept and not wanting to step on any toes by doing anything wrong.

Rain-Falls-Up, who seems to have gotten rather enthusiastically into the Moot procedure, responds to the Fool with a mocking series of yips and yowls, calling him a moon calf in everything but actual words.

Cutter calls Ever-Grinning down and chides him for his foolishness. "Don't be a dumbass," he says, popping the cigarette into his mouth.

Jarred speaks up. "Territory is generally well earned and respect is cheeply given. Sniff the piss untill you learn the value of what it marks. Then maybe someday you'll have territory of your own."

Fat-Ripper watches the Fool play her role; she tosses off cheap and easy insults, occasionally, even raising her voice, just to keep up form, but generally her heart isn't so much in this one.

Fat-Ripper is a large, powerful werewolf, a little taller than most; she'd be somewhere between eight and a half and nine feet tall, if it weren't for her slouch (she almost always walks around on all fours). Her arms are particularly long, and end in vicious claws. Her fur is white, mostly, though flecked with colours ranging from red to brown to black, her face being particularly mottled. Her ears are gnarled and unattractive, and a patch of dirty grey fur around one of her eyes makes her look a little silly.

Judges-Souls bangs her fist down heavily against the ground, dust lightly rising into the air. Her eyes look harshly upon Ever-Grinning. ~You fool, you idiot! You are one that has no respect for Gaia. Common sense and courtesy will save you many battles. They do not respect you if you are not poliet. I do not respect those to whom come on my grounds without invitation nor greeting.~ Her lips curl in a light snarl.

Sidhefuil pauses during the Calling to butt her nose against Taslyn's hip, a quick hello.

By the steam vents, After another law of the litany drifts by, Guards-The-Flame calls out the next, her voice rumbling about in her broad chest as she stares across at the Ragabash. ~And to what do you say, when I tell you its proper to Submit to those highest in station?~

Taslyn looks down and gives a bit of a curious look at the wolf that butts into her. She knells down and gives the wolf a scratch behind the ear. She hears the next law of the litany and frowns a little, probably about to speak her own voice.

Ever-Grinning lolls his tongue at Cutter in a grin. ~Okay, I'll just be a smartass, then, shall I?~ He growls at Guards-Flame, annoyed, and stomps around the caern like a young punk, meeting the eyes of the cubs in the crowd. ~More bullshit. I get no respect from elders, even though the Litany says they have to. If they're breaking the Litany, why shouldn't I? How am I supposed to get ahead in this society if my elders don't set a better example? Maybe we'd get somewhere if we stopped yapping about the Litany and started actually *following* it, you know?~

~Lovely,~ Salem says, twisting his voicebox into the Garou tongue and layering it thick with a sardonic flavor. ~Start with _yourself_, then.~

Rags snarls at the Fool. ~Poppycock! The Litany is for everyone, not everyone except you!~

Adrian watches Ever-Grinning and blinks a bit. He looks around for guidence, but stands there alone still, not knowing what to do.

Taslyn sighs and would speak, if she were a member of the sept. But for now, she remains quiet.

Jarred smiles coldly. "It's not a suggestion. It's a commandment. And since we know that one cannot garner respect by commanding it, I suppose you'll just have to fake it... But take care that you pretend believably. Most elders are keep observers of a cub's nature."

Sidhefuil grins as best a wolf can up at the newest Fianna. This is ~Layne,~ you know me. She billows up into the warform, nexy, to snarl back at the Fool. ~Be respectful. -Earn- respect, then be respected.~

Taslyn jumps back as Layne shifts, she blinks and does watch as the big garou now speaks.

Judges-Souls rises to her full-height, her eyes looking towards Rags. Snorting and folding her arms against her chest, she gives a stiff nod of her head. ~We are a martial society,~ she growls, as if reading her answer out of a textbook. ~We can not balence without order, but that does not mean that you are not respectful to the elders who do not follow it. They will be given as they deserve, justice will be served to those who step out of line. And those who step out of line endanger us all.~

Salem mutters something under his breath, in Serbian. Rain-Falls-Up simply looks scornfully at the Fool -- as if the idea of not submitting to your betters is as idiotic as turning your glass upside-down to drink from it.

By the steam vents, After another of bout from Garou towards the fool, Guards-The-Flame, bemused, growls out the next words. ~And I suppose you will say it is alright to eat the flesh of humans?~ She asks, ears lifting upwards as she tenses at the rage in the air.

Ever-Grinning faces Guards-The-Flame and throws his arms out wide. ~Why not? There's too many of them anyway. It's the most efficient way of dealing with the problem. Sure, there's that funny aftertaste, but who could deny that Gaia would be much better off with a few less humans running around polluting everything in sight? We've got a lot to make up for, so I suggest we get started. Nothing but people for breakfast, lunch and dinner. That should cut the population down quite nicely. Trust me, we'd all be better off.~

Brings-Buffalo snorts. We'd all be Wyrm-tainted.

Adrian grimaces at the thought of eating people.

~Repulsive,~ Doc snarls, nearly spitting at the thought of it. ~Despicable!~

Karl, now in Crinos as Whispers, whuffles at that, even closing his eyes and tilting his head back with amusement.

Reggie sneers at the Fool. ~All that trans-fats in your diet? You'd die of a heart attack before you could get up from the table! And the nothing but the same thing three times a day palls!~

Taslyn shakes her head and listens to all that is being said.

Firewatcher growls softly at the Fool. And take on their taint, to become more like our Enemy.

Jarred scowls in disgust. "I can't even stomach the *smell* of humans, let alone their taste. Wyrm-Taint notwithstanding, that's just gross."

Fat-Ripper stares at the fool, and glares a little at Reggie. ~We're as much human as wolf!~ she calls out to him. ~We need no injunction against the eating of wolf-flesh, because it is wrongness is obvious; the fact that we should need one against eating humans is shameful.~

Rain-Falls-Up snaps her jaws shut on empty air, then lifts her muzzle in a short, mocking howl. Fool fool fool!

Cutter wrinkles his nose. "Plus, you thought the FBI was annoying after one murder," he adds.

Fights-For-Hope growls out to the fool, ~You'd bring the humans down upon us like a plague of locusts by dining upon them as if /human/ was some kind of food group.~

Three-Blades simply peers with a splayed ear at the Red Talon ragabash.

Adrian notices Fights-For-Hope and sighs with a smile, the cub visibly relaxes and moves closer to his elder.

~You sick creature,~ snarls Judges lowly. ~You may as well crawl on your belly to the Wyrm! You're already digging your grave for it will be a taste that you'd never be rid of.~ The Get curls up her lips, white teeth flickering in the light from the moon. ~It is not a taste I wish to consume...~ The crinos spats aside her.

By the steam vents, The rage in the air continues to get as thick as the steam that Guards-The-Flame wanders through, chuffing amusedly at the Fool's statement. Another three laws go by, and the Gaian's voice turns serious. ~Tell me, Fool, when it is deemed worthy to challenge any leader during a time of peace, you would be against it as well?~

Sidhefuil's nostrils flare, and she snorts. ~I can think of few swifter paths to The End, filling our bellies with corruption. Empty calories!~

Sheeaghan listens, sometimes twitching her tail with a light hint of amusement. The Theurge otherwise remains calmly quiet this evening.

Fat-Ripper glares around, one by one, at all those who choose to defend a tenet protecting humans by insulting them, growling a little, but not given any further definition to her feelings.

Slipping in just a hair late is Emma. Eyes search around for familiar faces, and she spots Adrian and her Elder. On normal occasions she might just plop herself anyway, but tonight she draws closer to their location, quiet and trying to do so without causing disruption.

Adrian smiles at Emma, "Good to see you are OK." He says quietly. He offers his hand for a friendly squeeze.

Fights-For-Hope looks over to Emma, offering the cub a nod and a lowly whispered statement about some kind of "training" for those nearby at the center.

Ever-Grinning says, ~Yes! Does this make any sense? Only being able to challenge the leader in times of peace? That means we have to go by what the leader says, even if the leader is incompetent and gets us all killed. And since when have we ever been at peace anyway? The time to challenge the leader is when we're at war and things are going badly. Then we get a better leader. Challenging the leader in peacetime doesn't accomplish anything. By the time we're at peace, all the mistakes have been made and there's nothing we can do about it. It's reactive, not proactive. It just makes no sense.~~

Emma gives Adrian a nod and a shy smile, then turns to nod to the one whispering to her. Her eyes search around for Olga then as well.

~And while the two of you are bickering, everybody dies,~ Whispers calls.

Fights-For-Hope lets out a harsh roar towards Ever-Grinning, ~You would have us turn our back to the enemy because we don't agree with the decisions of those our own people have declared fit to rule through rites of challenge and renown? The fool exemplifies his role tonight...~

Salem shifts up to Glabro and snarls coldly. ~A battle's no time to start fighting each other.~

Signe watches Adrian and Emma, her attention off the calling for a few seconds. Eyes narrow in Get-like thought for that small time, and then the ahroun turns her attention back to the ritual. Her natural scowl deepens.

Emma turns to give Adrian a whispered greeting then.

~Probably easier just to bite the head off of the idiot making that sort of challenge in the middle of a fight and get back to fighting the Wyrm,~ Doc offers. Even in Crinos this statement sort of rumbles out of her in a sort of drawl.

Judges-Souls gives a rough snort, her chest heaving with a short whiff of involvement with the caller and the fool. The mark on her chest displays well in crinos as she stants at her height. ~Efficiency!~ The young cliath roars. ~Do you know anything about keeping peace amongst yourself during war. We, warriors, have blood pusling through our veins during times of war. We do not thing clearly, that is why we make changes during times of peace. When we have air to breath and time to think rationally. Fighting the Wyrm is priority over fighting among ourselves!~

By the steam vents, After the last two laws of the litany are spoken, such ends the back and forth between the Fool and the Sept. Guards-The-Flame takes a moment to clear her throat, then soon rejoins the others through the mist, nostrils flaring out at the cold weater.

Fights-For-Hope looks over to Signe now, placing a hand on her shoulder to gain her attention for a moment. His expression speaks of the need for the two of them to meet later, ~After the revel,~ is growled quietly to her.

When the calling of the Litany dies down, Firewatcher moves from her place near Charlie, shifting up to crinos as she goes, to wind up in the Steam Vents. She slashes her left wrist with the claws of her right, letting her blood drip to the warm earth. ~Sept of the Hidden Walk, our duty is to our territory, our blood belongs to Gaia. Join with me, to howl out to Chimera, our totem, to ask the Lady to bless us with her presence once more, to open the inner sky to our chorus!~ And, once more, a howl rings out, started by the crinos Fianna.

Song-of-Fury raises his voice along with the Fianna.

Brings-Buffalo joins in the howl with a full-throated lupus contribution.

Sidhefuil is quick to send her voice up to welcome Chimera.

Adrian watches Jamethon for what to do next.

The Gatekeeper now, James, pays an intense scruntinizing attention to Firewatcher and her ritual. As she calls for the howl he is the first one to belt out an airy roar, turning quicking to a welcoming howl to the spirit, Chimera.

Fat-Ripper throws her voice in as well, tossing up a long, throaty howl.

Taslyn watches what happens in the center of the caern, she opens her mouth to howl, but stops short, not sure of her being able to join in as she is not a member of the sept.

Guards-Flame tilts her head up and roars out her song to the dark heavens, hoping the stars can hear her tune.

Judges-Souls howls with her blood pusling, with the heart of a Get of Fenris and a welcome to the Sept's totem.

Three-Blades chimes in with a full-volume howl - probably the loudest she will be at the moot tonight.

Whispers adds a slightly wavering, celebratory howl to the blend.

Rain-Falls-Up immediately launches into a howl, pure wolfsong, her voice rising and falling, but never exactly the same tone as those around her.

Salem shifts up to Crinos to join the howl, the sound from his throat rising from a low rumble that comes from deep within his chest. Right from the diaphram.

Doc throws back her head and joins in the howl, closing her eyes.

Signe's natural reaction is to hit Fights-For-Hope. But it's nothing more than a 'sure thing. We'll do lunch' kind of shove in the shoulder. Afterwards, she slips up and fills out into the war form to join the howl.

Ever-Grinning sighs in relief. ~Glad that's over.~ He then lifts his muzzle to the sky and howls loudly again to welcome Chimaera.

Jeadagh throws back his head and adds his voice to the howl, calling upon Wyvern's gift to his pack, and invoking Call of the Wyld to make sure his voice travels far. Let everyone in the area know of his respect for the totem of their sept!

Cutter plucks the cigarette from his mouth and looks around, vaguely uncomfortable, before murmuring "Aroo."

Adrian watches everyone, a smile on his lips.

Shadow finally opens her mouth adding her soaring howl to the cacophany of the others.

Emma stops her discussion with Adrian while the howls echo around her in a din of dissonance. She shifts upwards then, following the lead of her Elders, into crinos.

Fights-For-Hope pats Adrian and Emma on the back at his sides and looking once quickly to each of them, renews his howl.

Adrian notices everyone shifting and does so as well, slipping into Crinos and joining the howl.

Fire-Dancer tips her head back and gives a shot at her first real howl, her voice blending in with the others.

Taslyn looks to either side, shrugs and does the same, adding a throaty and loud howl.

Sheeaghan howls with passion, interwined in greeting to the spirit like a faithful friend. A guide that is always with them. The assitant Gatekeeper's golden eyes leap with excitement in their curcuits. Again, she repeats. The love of the sept is in her echoing voice as it interwines with the rest of the sept.

The steam at the vents thickens, swirling faster, until the crinos is invisible from view between the darkness and the fog. Then, from admist the fog, comes a sparkly glow, like the glowing willow the wisps which once led travellers astray. As the howl dies down, the glow is accompanied by a sound not unlike crystal chimes, eerie and otherworldly. From the depths of the mist, Firewatcher's voice says, ~Chimera answers her children's call. The Inner Sky is opened.~

Salem shifts back down to the near-man form and folds his arms across his chest. The Glass Walker continues to scowl.

Fights-For-Hope lets out one last high pitched piercing howl at Megan's words, a greeting to that which now watches over them in the Caern which is quick and soon fades.

Jeadagh lets out another, shorter howl, this time one of pleasure. It has been too long since the sept has had the proper rite for this at its disposal, and at long last, the sept has been able to renew its bonds with Chimera, welcoming her to the moot with more than mere words.

Rain-Falls-Up's howl fades away. The Red Talon sits down again, her whole posture electric with happy excitement.

The voice of Judge-Souls dies away as she looks among the cubs of her tribe, Adrian and Emma. She gives them a light flicker of her crinos-sizes ears before her turns her attention towards the opened sky.

Guards-Flame trains her eyes upon Firewatcher as she clears her throat, claws flexing a bit at her sides as she stands next to her two cubs.

Adrian shifts back down to homid and watches the sparkily area in awe.

Fat-Ripper abruptly breaks off her howl, abruptly, now that it is no longer needed, and watches the mists by the vents of steam.

Fire-Dancer doesn't bother shifting, she is too caught up in watching what happens around those gathered.

Sheeaghan looks across to Fights-For-Hope, her stand shifting from one paw to the other. Her eyes look tentively towards the Fianna, looking proudly as she watches the rite unfold.

Firewatcher moves once more, this time, from the steam vents to the rocky outcropping, where she picks up the long leg bone of a deer she had left there. She walks to the edge, so that everyone has a better chance of seeing her, and with a *SNAP* the two ends of the femur crack into two pieces. She calls out ~As the cracking allows us to reach the marrow at the heart of the bone, let us now get to the heart of the issues concerning the Sept. If anyone wishes to speak before the Truthcatcher, come forth now.~

Fire-Dancer finally takes the time to shift back into her homid form, looking over to Adrian once more.

Jeadagh steps forward, taking the bone from the Truthcatcher with a polite dip of his head. ~I expect all of you know by now that I am Alpha of this Sept. I wish to offer you my vision for this sept, and ask several things of you. First, I have taken Alphaship of a sept with only three packs. We are too many to allow this to continue. I encourage each of you to look to your left and to your right, and decide who would make a fitting packmate, and to consider the totem spirit that would best serve your purpose. I will do everything in my power to assist you in finding others for your pack, should you require it, and to see that you have someone to perform the Rite of the Totem for you. Packs are key to Garou life, and none of us are complete without one.~ He draws a breath, only having just begun.

Fights-For-Hope holds on to the crinosed form for now, with how he waits almost anxiously, there is definatly something he is wanting to say. to the sept.

Brings-Buffalo watches Luke with attention, ears cocked.

Firewatcher's ears flatten at Luke's words, but she crouches down close to the ground, behind and to the left of him, as he has his turns at the bones.

Salem's scarred face remains bland, his posture straight and tall.

Sheeaghan makes a sound in her throat in reguards to finding pack members. Apparently this Fianna Theurge, Alpha of Crescent Wing, is looking for a few new members, although she does not go around announcing it.

Fat-Ripper listens closely to the Alpha's words. She looks about her, at the assembled garou, but does not let her gaze remain on anyone for long. Then she looks to the ground.

Jeadagh goes on, ~Next, on the matter of our cubs. I have seen how often that cubs left at the farmhouse are away from their tribe, and so long as I am Alpha, while a cub is at the farm, he may be taught the fundamentals of our ways by any Garou who is his senior. Several of our tribes are too few to allow otherwise, though a tribe who does not wish their cub to be in this situation may of course keep the cub on their tribal territory. I also call upon at least one other to make the farmhouse a permanent residence. Trevor is the only Garou other than the cubs residing there, and before him, there was no one.~ Still not done, despite the length.

Brings-Buffalo's ears flatten at that, but he listens.

Fire-Dancer lets slip a little growl, and continues her whispering with Adrian.

Three-Blades chuffs aloud, adding that passage rites would still need to be done by tribe elders of the cub.

Fat-Ripper looks up at that, surprised, and then looks back down. She sits down, letting her arms rest between her knees, watching him continue, thinking hard.

Rain-Falls-Up licks her nose, then lies down, listening without comment.

Sidhefuil revels in the Lady's presence at length, eventually turning her attention to the Cracking. Thoughts turning to the matter of packs, her eyes search the gathered for certain individuals.

Ever-Grinning sits quietly listening to Luke, proud to have another Fianna alpha.

Jeadagh agrees with Three-Blades, ~It can be no other way than that.~ He continues on, then, ~The greatest thing that I feel this sept needs, however, is a specific purpose. A goal to reach toward, more specific than simply combating the Wyrm wherever it dwells and breeds. And I have already begun that. First, we must strengthen ourselves here. With a Warder who does not feel the need for Guardians, Scourge has begun heavily patrolling the bawn ourselves, and I have begun work toward creating a rotation of Guardian packs, not merely one or two individuals. Crescent Wing is the first, and I have spoken with others about packs that may soon form adding to this. Once our defenses are stronger here, we move to offense into the city. And while we are doing this, I have already spoken to our Gatekeeper about gathering allies from other septs, forming moon bridges for mutual defense. And eventually, because no war can be fought on the defense, for offense. So long as I am Alpha, I aim to guide this sept toward ridding us of the threat that Seattle poses. With a strong sept with active packs, with allies by our side, we _can_ reclaim Seattle, just as we reclaimed Hidden Walk.~

Fire-Dancer tightens her lips and stares at Adrian. A nod is given and she whispers once more.

Brings-Buffalo growls in agreement, standing.

Three-Blades flips her ears forward at that. Send the Dancers and leeches all back to the deep they spawned from, she growls in a throaty anticipative way.

Fights-For-Hope stands a little taller now, not hunched a bit forward before as he was in anticipation, in case he draws any scrutiny. He growls out as his role of Gatekeeper is mentioned and simply nods to the calling that has already been asked of him, and accepted.

Guards-Flame raises her ears upwards some as she slowly nods her head, arms crossing about her chest.

Sheeaghan gives a light nod towards Jeadgah. Then, the pale lupus head of the Fianna turns towards the Bone Gnawer and lightly chuffs. It begins with the strengthen of our own sept. As a sept and has individuals.

Salem's expression remains bland, though his lips thin slightly and his mismatched eyes narrow in thought.

Fat-Ripper looks at that, considering. She says nothing, gives no sign of her thoughts, not that they'd be particularly interesting, anyway.

Taslyn listens intently and bites at her lip a little. Her eyes are wide and completely taken in by everything around her. She moves close to the other Fianna, waiting and watching.

Jeadagh gives the sept a short time to respond, and then says, ~Lastly, I remind you that the positions of Groundskeeper and Master of the Rite are currently unfilled. I hope this will be remedied very soon, for the good of the Sept.~ That done, he offers the bone back to Megan.

Firewatcher takes the bones back from Jeadagh, ears flickering, then calls out, ~Those who wish to claim these positions, come forward now, and be ready to face challenge.~

Brings-Buffalo shifts up to homid, striding to the Truthcatcher with a hand out for the bone.

Leonard takes it as Megan hands it to him and turns, looking at the assembled. "I hear our alpha's call and I answer. I will take Groundskeeper of this Sept. It has not been cared for in too long." He hands the bone back to Megan, retaking his spot, but not his wolf form. He crosses his arms and stands, head high.

Three-Blades looks to Leonard, not for challenging but for indicating her approval. Wendigo cared for this land long ago. Good that a Wendigo will care again.

Reggie's hand whips out, not to take the banes, but to thump Leonard on the shoulder.

Leonard jerks forward a little with a soundless oof, then gives Reggie a cocked eyebrow.

Stepping up to recieve the bone, Sings-To-Spirits holds it above his head for all to see. ~There are three breeds, five Auspices and twelve tribes. Nobody does more than what it is fair to ask of them, unless they must. If too much is piled on them, it is not good for them or the Sept. If something is not good for a Sept, it is not good for Gaia. I would serve Gaia, and the Sept in every way I can. Therefore tonight I challenge Luke-rhya, Alpha of the Sept of the Hidden Walk and Righ of the Fianna, for the position of Master of the Rite.~ Having said this, the Galliard turns to the one he has named and bows his head to show his respect for the Elder. The whole thing, from wording to bowing is highly formal and ritualised.

Taslyn watches Sings and beams, a great smile across her face.

Sheeaghan is not surprised to see Sings-To-Spirits step up to ask for rank of Master of Rite, in fact, she was expecting that it would happen. She nods her head, flickering her tail in approval.

Fire-Dancer frowns a little, and shrugs at Adrian.

Leonard watches Trevor with a bit of tension that eases when he reveals what he's challenging for. He regards the older galliard with a thoughtful look.

Fights-For-Hope stands, nodding once towards Leonard, and again towards Sings, he apparently is quite happy to remain Gatekeeper for the time being.

Jeadagh answers the challenge equally formally. ~In my time as Master of the Rite for Hidden Walk, I did everything in my power to learn the rites that the sept needed, and to spread that knowledge so that it would never be lost again, as so much was lost not long ago. It was Rites that brought you here, Sings-to-Spirits, and you have proven yourself a fine teacher, and most knowledgeable. I charge you to continue the task I began, and that you have already proven yourself so capable of.~

Leonard nods to this, folding his arms again.

The bone is returned to Megan and both Fianna Galliard and Theurge step back among the crowd.

Taslyn takes in a deep breath and smiles widely at Trevor's accomplishment, much like a daughter would for her father.

~If there are any others who wish to announce challenges,~ Firewatcher calls out, ~be they for rank or for honor, please come forth now.~

Sidhefuil barks out her approval loudly to Sings-to-Spirits.

Three-Blades asks, as per ragabash are prone to do, for the new Master of the Rite to perhaps give the gathered a summary of what he is capable of doing, since not all are in the know of his skills. Of course, that can also be reserved for a later time.

Three-Blades is an average sized, wolf-like canid. She doesn't look like any purebred, that's for sure. Her fur is dark, mottled reddish-brown fur in color with a pale offwhite underside. Dark amber eyes gaze around alertly. Her ears and tail are black in color, adding a certain expressiveness to her actions in their contrast to her bodyfur, twisting and flicking with inner restless thought. A thicker dark-furred tapering ruff travels from between her ears to her withers in a stripe, fading into the rusty brown fur of her back. Scars obscured by her coat mar her body but she doesn't seem physically hindered by them. A particular scar obscured by her dark fur along her ruff and right shoulder is a crude branding glyph, an ankh with the bottom elongated and twisted for form an 'S' that ends with a tight spiral. (+detail Three-Blades's scars) Around her neck, a loose choke chain dangles with a grey tag identifying her as 'Ghost'.

Adrian looks to Jamethon at the announcement of Challenges for Rank.

Fights-For-Hope steels himself and once visibly calmed, steps forward the visage of a moving Garou statue for all the emotion he does not show. Taking the bones and pointing one half towards Jeadagh he announces with a rich and powerful booming voice, ~Jeadagh. Alpha of the Hidden Walk and Fostern... I, Fights-For-Hope, elder of the Get of Fenris here, Warrior Theurge and Gatekeeper, do so challenge you for that rank. Do you hear my challenge, Alpha of the Hidden Walk?~

Shadow's gaze moves between Fights-for-Hope, whom she studies for some time, to the Fianna theurge he has challenged, showing more interest at this than many other parts of the moot.

Taslyn bites at her lip and looks between the two forms. Her eyes are wide and watching, rapt at what words may come next.

Jeadagh steps forward. ~You are the Gatekeeper of my sept, you are my second in Scourge, Fights-for-Hope. I hear your challenge, and I accept it. You are a Theurge, so it is spirits who you will seek out. Seek out Wyvern, and from him you will get a trial of glory. Call upon Falcon, and from him you will receive a trial of honor. When those are complete, seek Chimera, and she will grant you a trial of Wisdom. Complete these three trials, and you will be Fostern.~

Fights-For-Hope nods to this and still holding the bones, but at his sides calls out a question, ~Shall I summon them to me? Or seek them out on foot and paw?~

Guards-Flame watches the going on's with an air of interest, ears flickering now and then, drawing her gaze towards Megan.

Jeadagh clarifies, ~Wyvern and the Lady are near. Falcon you may summon to you.~

Rain-Falls-Up sits up, scratches herself, then lies down again. After all the excitement of the Calling and the Litany and the howling... the lupus seems rather bored.

Fat-Ripper watches the Theurge challenge with a fair intensity, her ears twitching a little.

Fights-For-Hope nods to this and handing the bones back, he nods towards Firewatcher before returning to stand by his tribe.

Three-Blades licks her muzzle, interested at the terms of the challenge.

Leonard steps up again, taking the bone from Megan and turning to address the crowd. "Last moot, a metis was brought before the sept. A metis baby." He pauses. "Garou Shall Not Mate With Garou. A metis is living proof that someone has broken the Litany. If anyone has any information about this metis' parents, they should speak now, for the truth _will_ come out, and you will not want to be found a liar when the time comes." His eyes are hard as he hands the Fianna adren the bones.

Jarred's eyes harden.

Cutter slips his lighter out of his pocket, holding it in his palm by his hip, and eyes it thoughtfully.

Judges-Souls growls and mutters something under her breath.

Fights-For-Hope nods to Leonard at this, words wanting to be said but by his demenor he obviously holds them back.

Salem's eyes narrow at the Wendigo's words. He glances around over the crowd.

Taslyn blinks and just watches.

Sheeaghan perks her ears, looking towards Leonard. The Theurge gives a yawn, then looks blankly towards the ground before looking back up at those around her again.

Jarred shifts back to his homid form and makes his way to the center, walking carefully around the lupus form garou lounging about here and there. Taking the bones, he spares them a mildly curious look before gazing out at the others appraisingly. He raises his voice slightly so that all may hear him. "In keeping with the Alpha's gentle mandate,I would like to announce my intention to form a new city pack. I have considered several totems, but my early favorite is Fox. Fox is quick, cunning and sly. He confounds his enemies and defeats them using their own confusion. He is a sneaker, a manipulator, a shadow warrior, an adventurer. He excels in causing his adversaries to lose their way. His senses are keen and his wits sharp. This will be a pack of the quickfooted, the brave, the curious and the perpetually aware. I am starting with no pre-conceived notions. All tribes are welcome, all ranks are welcome. We will exist to serve the sept as scouts and warriors. There are many here with the talent for such a pack. I am eager to talk with any who feel they have what it takes. Most of you know where to reach me. I reside at Shadow's End. If there are those among you who wish to join a city pack, contact me. Such packs are direly needed." He turns to leave the position, but hesitates. "I would add that though Fox is a current preference, it is not the only totem available. As the Alpha intoned, the important thing is to pack with those of like mind. Remember that. Thank you..." With that, he flicks a stray leaf from his longcoat and strides back to the wide tree against which he leaned before.

Rain-Falls-Up looks up, interested, at this news. She sits up, sniffing the air as if by scent alone she could ferret out a charach.

Ever-Grinning looks interested in a pack with a totem of cunning. He mulls the idea over quietly.

Fat-Ripper glances up quickly at Jarred, and quickly turns her eyes back down. Her ears twitch again, unsure.

Three-Blades also looks towards Jarred, hearing his announcement of a second city pack. A relatively mild twitch at the edges of her muzzle indicate her interest, though there is some hesitation in her posture.

Cutter glances up at Jarred's speech. He looks interested in something--perhaps a totem of cunning, perhaps a burrito. Nobody knows.

Firewatcher takes the bones back from the Shadow Lord Galliard with a grave nod of approval, then retains them herself. She moves to the edge of the outcropping, and speaks to the crowd. ~There is another piece of business to bring before the Sept. I am called Firewatcher, or Keeps her Patience, Adren philodox of the Fianna. I know that many of you do not know me. Many of you do, for this is the Sept I passed my Rite of Passage, became Fostern at. I have recently returned, and I will share the story of why I was gone at a more appropriate time.~ She raises to her full height. ~But I am returned. And I have spoken to Runs-at-Dawn, to claim Alpha at this Sept, by right of rank. The Litany says 'Submission to those higher in station'. The Ways say that it is the duty of those of higher rank to lead.~ Lowering herself back down to something less imposing, she continues, ~There is question of the Ways, though, that we agreed to put forth to one to decide on.~ She beckons Jeadagh up, handing him one of the bone halves.

Leonard looks up sharply at Megan's pronouncement, eyes wide in surprise. He looks to Luke quizzically.

Three-Blades continues looking on, listening and watching the bones and the announcers.

Fights-For-Hope looks to Megan now, growling a vicious tone with snarl worn on his face... he obviously disagrees.

Rain-Falls-Up's ears perk forward, then settle back into a more relaxed stance. The lupus lies down and chews the back of one forepaw.

Cutter pricks up his ears, and straightens his stance as his attention flicks to the bone holders.

Sheeaghan looks bewildered as she glances from the Theurge she has known most of her life to those others in the sept and to the one that she has only heard stories about.

Judges-Souls seems to follow the same reaction as her tribemate, Fights-For-Hope.

Taslyn blinks and looks between the two with the bones. She looks back and forth, wondering what will happen next.

Salem, former Sept Alpha himself, merely looks... detached. His gaze on the two Fianna is sharp, however.

Defiant-Storm bristles a little, looking from Luke to Megan and back again. Apparently, the Get's not angry, just anticipatory of the fight that will surely come. With the moon as fat as it is, she can't help but move around a little in a vague pace.

Shadow is just that, next to Cutter, but anyone who does notice her might see her watching the scene avidly.

Jarred muses out loud. "Does no one consider the opinions of the Tribal Elders in cases such as these? This would not be the first time our Alpha has been of lesser rank than one of the other sept members."

Three-Blades has to agree with Jarred there, even if she can't cite instances off the top of her furry head.

Jeadagh steps forward, taking one of the halves. ~As you heard, she has claimed the Alphaship. Not a Challenge for position, but claiming it because she is Adren and I am Fostern. And while I do not dispute her experience, I do not acknowledge that a position of authority within the sept holds no more authority than the rank of the one holding it. I do not believe that the Alpha of a Sept can simply be cast down because one of higher rank claims the position, and that if she wishes to be Alpha of the sept, she should challenge me for it. We had agreed to take the matter to the Master of the Challenge, however, Lyra is not here tonight. Which I believe both of us agree means the matter must be resolved by a Phildox. Scar is the most senior Phildox present aside from yourself, and though we have disagreed on many things, we both wish what is best for Hidden Walk.~

Salem straightens as his name -- his Garou name, anyway -- is spoken and cocks his head, his good eye fixing on Megan to see if she agrees to this.

Firewatcher startles briefly at the announcement that Lyra is missing, but then nods with approval at Jeadagh's backup choice. She offers her half-bone out to Salem.

Taslyn looks between the two, watching as the Philodox speak, learning.

Salem walks up without hurry, shifting upwards into Crinos as he does so and rising to his nine-foot-plus height. He's not _calm_... but he is _controlled_. The Glass Walker accepts the half-bone from Firewatcher with a dip of his head, then looks between the two of them, from Theurge to Philodox, from Philodox to Theurge.

Fat-Ripper watches with calm patience and interest, eyes focused on the Alpha and his challenger, occasionally turning to Salem as well.

Firewatcher crouches, with knees up and forepaws splayed on the ground, as she watches Scar. Tension is evident in her posture--it *is* full moon--as she waits.

Taslyn settles, watching, she runs a thumb over her lip absentmindedly as she waits in the silence.

Defiant-Storm moves out a few more paces, her claws flexing like coiled springs. Her eyes remain trained on Salem, her own tension evident, but the Get seems to feed on it, and the mood of the caern at the moment.

Three-Blades eyes Salem, analysing the halfmoon's every move as he takes the bones and looks between the challengers. The tension floating in the air raises her hackles, but the Shadow Walker remains planted where she is, tail twitching.

Guards-Flame rumbles loudly to herself as she inches towards Three-Blades, eyes scanning all those who are gathered. She looks to be ready for just about anything, which is most likely healing.

Jeadagh remains standing, watching Scar intently. Like the Walker elder, his bearing is one best described as controlled. Silent, all but holding his breath as he awaits the answer.

Fights-For-Hope looks to the decreed Judge, a scowl evident on his face and emotion pouring forth from more than just his visage... he just wafts the desire for a fight.

Adrian watches the Challenge quietly. He bounces on the pads of his feet.

Scar takes a deep breath, and when he speaks, his voice carries clearly across the caern. Right from the diaphram, just like they teach in theater. ~The Litany is clear. 'Submit to those greater in station.'~ His gaze sweeps the gathered Garou. ~As the Shadow Lord elder points out, this Sept has had a lesser rank lead before... but _never_ when someone of higher rank has claimed the position.~ He looks at Luke grimly. ~Rank is not simply a number. It isn't simply a title. It is something holy and a vital part of the order of our society. The spirits recognize the power and experience of a higher-ranked Garou, for only by gaining this rank can a Garou learn the more potent Gifts. Submit to those greater in station. As a Philodox and Keeper of the Ways, I judge Firewatcher-rhya's claim to the alphaship of this Sept to be valid by virtue of her Rank.~ He turns back to Megan. ~_However_... we are not at war. If Perseverent should challenge you for this position, _as is his right_, you are honor-bound to give him a just and fair challenge.~

Firewatcher dips her head at Scar's reminder, giving him the respect of Judge of this moment.

Three-Blades flattens her ears involutarily at the words of the halfmoon. Things in her mind are rolling inside, but her eyes look to Jeadagh expectantly.

Jeadagh lets out his breath, a low growl of anger. Not disputing the Philodox, of course, but furious. ~Very well.~ Turning to Megan, ~Then, since I would be failing my duty to this sept were I to allow someone who has abandoned Hidden Walk once before -- for three years, and back only a week, still a stranger to most of those here -- someone who seeks only to strengthen our defenses, not to take the offense and strike down our foes both near and far, someone who seeks power before pack, to have the Alphaship uncontested, I challenge you.~ It's a testament to the Fianna's strength of will that he keeps his rage under enough control that there is nothing more than angry words said.

Adrian blinks and smiles.

Scar, having said his piece, wordlessly hands the half-bone back to Firewatcher and steps to the side. He remains close to the pair of Fianna, watching them both intently.

Defiant-Storm bares her teeth--a pretty white row of death and danger. The Get covers them a moment later, her gleaming yellow eyes shifting from Luke to Megan to see what she says. Pricked, tufted ears cock and turn with curiosity.

Firewatcher's ears lay back at the challenges to her honor, as well as the position, and it's no surprise her response is angry as well. She takes the bone back from Salem, to say ~I accept your Challenge. I will give you terms within a few days, as this is a matter of grave import, and I would not make them in anger.~

Fights-For-Hope can only nod at Luke's words, his body tensing to both move forward, and stay where it stands.

Leonard's hackles are raised by the anger in the air, and he crouches low, a barely audible growl thrumming in his throat.

Three-Blades finally manages to bleed away some of the tension building in her body and mind, ears finally coming forward again. The Moondancers should fill in the Alpha about what has happened, then, in her absence.

Cutter starts casually edging toward the edge of the caern as the snarling and hackling multiplies.

Jeadagh scowls even more darkly at that, ~You should already have done the considering, as I had. You would have had your challenge now, were the decision reversed. Your lack of foresight does not impress me, Alpha.~ Yes, he'll grant her the title, but the word is little more than a snarl. Stalking back over toward his packmates, before he does something he regrets.

Taslyn is breathing heavy and watches as the alpha passes again. She shifts on her feet, not entirely sure what is happening. She looks to the other Fianna and wraps her arms around herself.

Fat-Ripper watches the whole thing, eyebrows a little ruffled, but otherwise calm. Though not showing too much emotion, it would be an unjustice to call her uninterested.

~Unless you wish to challenge my honor as well,~ Firewatcher snarls at the theurge's back. ~You will keep back your insults. You demean yourself.~ The philodox is apparently in high fury at this point, but manages to notice Jarred's motions requesting the bone. She offers it to the galliard, but remains near him, glowering.

Jarred returns to the center, taking the bones from Firewatcher and speaks, glancing over to Scar. "With respect to the venerable Philodox, and to Jeadagh, and to Firewatcher, I would request that the ruling just made be reconsidered by Scar and dismissed as untimely and devisive. We must act in the best interests of our Sept. As a Tribal Elder, I strongly protest the goings on of the past 90 days. We have had no less than 3 "Alphas" of this sept in less than 2 months, yourself among them, Scar. And as Jeadagh has correctly pointed out, service to the sept and more importantly, *fidelity* to the sept should be a valid consideration. The Elders opinions were neither sought, nor even considered. Such flimsy appointments and challenges serve only to weaken the position of Sept Alpha. Luke rightfully challenged for his position, and he is well respected and regarded by his septmates. Rank is important, but not all. I offer my counsel only as opinion, not as a challenge. I am a Shadow Lord, it is true, but I am also a Galliard and mediator by Auspice, and I have genuine and serious concern for my sept. Around me already I spy the seeds of division and dissention being planted. I urge those involved to consider the consequences of their actions here, not merely the fact of their own pride and prestige. In short, my septmates, couldn't we have an Alpha in place for longer than a week, please?"

Three-Blades cocks an ear, watching the Shadow Lord carefully when he announces his dissenting opinion. What tension had seeped away from her is quickly returning under the full moon, but the Bone Gnawer chuffs acknowledgement to the Shadow Lord's words.

Sheeaghan nods in agreement, although it is in order that the Theurge seems to remain neutral or blank about the question of the leader of the sept.

Guards-Flame bobs her head slowly as she shifts her gaze to Jarred, quietly rumbling in her throat. Soon, she shifts down into the homid.

Firewatcher, with the other half of the bones, speaks once more, again the Truthcatcher. ~Your opinion is noted, but this is not a human democracy, Storm-Singer. The Elders' role is to advise, but not to decide.~ She turns, sweeping her gaze across the gathering, and says, ~As there is no further sept business, those new to this place, step forward to introduce yourself.~

Scar stares flatly down at Jarred, arms folded across his massive chest.

Defiant-Storm seems disappointed when the Fianna manage to control their anger. Well, a little disappointed, anyway. The Shadow Lord gets an instinctive showing of the Get ahroun's teeth, once again, but what he says only seems to puzzle Defiant Storm. She cocks her head and looks at him as if he sprouted an extra head. With a snort, she turns her attention back to the one with the bone--eager and impatient for business to conclude so something more physical can commence.

Jarred nods as he hands the bones back to Firewatcher. "Very well, Alpha. I have said my piece. But I would offer this thought. You'll find your contest against Luke will be childsplay compared to the task of gaining the respect of the sept you deserted." With that he steps down into the gathered garou and returns to his place.

Cutter gently nudges Shadow with the toe of his boot. "Spotlight's on you now," he murmurs.

Fights-For-Hope looks to Jarred and at his abject dismissal following his words, his increasing growl indicates nothing friendly or pleased. His left foot steps forward towards the new Alpha, and from the straining in his right leg's muscles visible under rippling flesh... that foot wishes to follow.

Whispers has something to add. Admittedly, it's going to be difficult to follow all that just took place, but.... he looks to Guards-the-Flame briefly, then inhales deeply and steps forward, a little unsure of himself. Taking the offered bone, he addresses those gathered. ~I am Whispers; Walks-Into-Swords; Lost Cub of the Tooth Moon. When I first joined you all, I was under the guidance of the Bone Gnawers. Recently, I began seeking another Tribe. I... I was a little foolish in how I went about it, and I apologise for the inconveniences this has caused.~ He pauses, skimming his eyes over each the Get and Gnawers that are gathered. He inhales again and continues, ~I am now under Guards-the-Flame and when the time is right, I will begin my Rite of Passage as a Child of Gaia, alongside Stands-Up-To-Rage.~ His short news over with, he bows his head in a general manner to all assembled and returns to bones to the Truthcatcher, stepping back beside the other Gaians.

Alicia nods her head at that, a hint of pride filling her features as she reaches out, squeezing Karl's shoulder once he reaches her side.

Jeadagh, too, shifts down to homid. Too dangerous to stay in the warform any longer. He regards Jarred with a healthy measure of surprise. The only time his relationship with the Shadow Lord could have been called close, it was because they were shedding each other's blood.

Scar's gaze follows Jarred, the fur bristling along his neck and shoulders. Then to Fights-For-Hope; he watches the angry Get of Fenris narrowly, lest the war-theurge lose his temper.

Taslyn reluctantly steps forward after the words that are spoken between the others, looking a bit to Jeadagh and bowing her head as she walks past him. She steps to Firewalker and bows her head there as well. She reaches and takes the bones, clearing at her throat and standing up straight, she addresses those assembled. "I am Taslyn Forrester, Defends-Her-Worth, Cliath and Fianna Philodox. I seek to be accepted into this sept by teaching and administering the rites that I have learned and acting as a moderator in any capacity as I am needed. I also seek a pack to join if Gaia sees her way to direct me as such. If any of you wish to learn from me or speak with me on any matter, I am sure you will find me ready and willing. Thank you." She hands the bones back and leaves the spot with a smile to those as she passes as she makes her way back to her fellow Fianna.

Shadow watches Jarred as he walks off, mien thoughtful.

Three-Blades forcibly tears her gaze away from the tensed and angry, to focus on the newcomers. Karl receives a welcome, if a little neutral chuff and Taslyn as well.

Rain-Falls-Up lifts her head, ears perking. The Red Talon's hackles bristle a bit at all the seething anger, and she pads light-footed and wary up to Firewatcher. She sniffs the bones, then looks out at the Sept and lifts her muzzle in a brief howl of introduction. She adds, more simply, that she is called Rain-Falls-Up and that she is a no-moon of the Red Talons. Then she pads away to resume her earlier place.

Judges-Souls looks to her elder calmly as she slips back, taking on homid form. The young Philodox Fenrir crosses her arms against her chest and gives a light snort. Her eyes follow Jarred, seeming to give a arched eyebrow in his direction. She takes in the new arrivals, giving a nod slowly.

Shadow pads forward finally, shifting up to crinos to introduce herself. ~I am Jean, sometimes called Shadow, a Shadow Lord theurge.~ Shifting back down to lupus, she returns to where Cutter is.

Three-Blades directs her attentions accordingly when the bones are passed around. Each newcomer is given a chuff of welcome.

Fights-For-Hope finally takes another step, but this time back to look over to his cub, Adrian. His rage visibly slips away as he finds something new to focus on, ~You ready, boy?~ he asks while introductions are being made.

Adrian nods with a quiet, "Yes, Sir." He smiles, just a tiny smile.

Fights-For-Hope can only nod at the words from his cub as he looks back to those new to the Sept. ~Good...~ he grumbles as his eyes steal one more glimpse of the Alpha.

Clearing her throat, Alicia finally shakes off a bit of frustration and steps forward, taking the bones from Firewatcher, much to her surprise. "I got something to say, and I apologize for not saying it before the introductions. I wanted to make sure I wasn't going to be needed as a healer. My cub, Catherine, is still missing since her Rite of Passage, when she was sent to gather information about the liver stealing killer in the city. As of recent events. We took care of that as a Sept, but, her body, or just her in general, has not been found. I'm going to be needing a few helping hands to search her out, while I use the Questin Stone. I am hoping to not fear for the worst, but.. what can ya do, right? Thanks." And with that, she grits her teeth and passes the bones back to the Fianna, heading back to the gathered.

Three-Blades looks to Alicia as she makes her announcement. The ragabash doesn't say anything. It should just be given she will help her packmate.

Adrian looks between Firewatcher and Jamethon, seeking approval to start.

Firewatcher, in turn, looks to Fights-for-Hope, expression turning steely as she notices his demeaner, and bares her teeth slightly at him in dominance. Snapping her jaws, she says, ~Your cub. Let him begin.~

Taslyn reaches and pats Alicia on the shoulder, "Anything you wish." She speaks in a hushed voice to the woman.

Fights-For-Hope shakes his head away from the alpha and towards Adrian, ~Go on... time to make your name known.~ When he finishes sending his cub forth, he melts down to the lupine form, sitting back and listening.

Adrian stands before the Sept. The Get cub smiles at everyone. His eyes take everyone in. They stop on Luke and pause there, about to speak, then turns to Firewatcher, "Esteemed Alpha." It is unclear if the cub made a mistake or an insult. His blue eyes seek out Jamethon, "Honored Elder." And his vision sweeps over the rest of the gathered, "Valiant Septmates." He smiles the most charming smile he can possibly muster. He bows, "I am Adrian Winquist, called Stonehenge by my elder, Jamethon. I was born under a Galliard moon and the blood of Fenris flows in my veins, the blood of Gaia's greatest warriors. I am but a cub, but I bring a tale." He pauses, takes a breath and stands, "This tale does not take place here, nor anywhere near us. This is a tale of a Sept back east. A Sept set high in the Rockie Mountains in the state of Colorado where few Garou go, where the air is hard to breath for most. A Sept so high that it has earned the name The Sept of Gaia's Scalp, for they could almost reach up and stroke Luna if they wanted. Come with me as I take you to this Sept and show you what has happened there. Close your eyes and let the coldness rush over your body. If you listen you can hear the high winds whip around you. Reach your hand out and you might feel the light show floating in the air." As he describes the scene, his tone and timber echo what he tries to make the Sept experience.

Scar shifts down slowly, resuming his breed form, but keeps his tall, stiff stance, arms folded across his chest and expression stony and tense.

Adrian circles around those gathered as he tells his tale. His voice rising and falling with the mood of the story, "This Sept is controlled by the Silver Fangs, it's leadership provided by one known as "Braves the Storm". Many tribes reside and live in this Sept. "Red Tracks in the Snow" led the Red Talons in patrolling the borders, while the Glass Walkers, led by "Frozen Steel", make sure the lines of communication work at the upper levels of the mountains, each one doing it's best to stay out of the other's way. The Black Furys follow their eldest, "Forrest's Mother", help fight the Wyrm's attacks on this sacred ground when not trading insults with "Stalks the Weak" of the Get of Fenris and his tribe. "Dumpster Diver" prods the Bone Gnawers to constantly watch the Silver Fangs for their mistakes and happily point them out. As you can see, things are not harmonious at this Sept. While they should fight together for Gaia's greater good, they are usually more apt to fight one another. I point this out because you must be aware of this problem, as aware as the spirits around the Sept were. You see, spirits talk of what they see and sometimes even the words of a small and inconsequential spirit reaches the ears of one more powerful. This is the case when a totem of Unicorn heard of what was happening and decided to teach the Sept a lesson." The young man smiles, as if sharing a secret.

Taslyn gives the cub what he deserves, her undivided attention.

Jarred allows himself to brush aside the earlier slight as his friend continues his tale. He visibly relaxes as he immerses himself in the story, a ghost of a smile even making to his stony features.

Luke takes a deep breath, not relaxing as the story is told, but certainly listening closely. You know how Fianna are with stories, after all.

Fat-Ripper remains at her place, in wrapt attention. She hasn't showed much since the Alpha challenge, not even when Alicia spoke of the lost cub. She just lets it all wash over her, this story as well, if not more so. Her eyes get a little distant.

Firewatcher remains in crinos, but slips down from the outcropping to join the rest of the Sept, eyes fixed on the cub storyteller intently.

Adrian kneels close to the ground, his voice low, building tension, "The six elders of the Sept woke up to realize they could not see or hear. Everyone else in the Sept was unaffected, but one by one, each of the Elders realized by some mysterious reason, they had been struck deaf and blind. At the heart of the Caern, Unicorn appeared and challenged the elders to overcome their prejudices and hatred for the betterment of the Sept. With a cacophony of whippoorwills the younger Garou looked around. Black Spiral Dancers were attacking, but how could they fight with the eldest among them handicapped so. Unicorn touched her horn to the ground and a strange healing took place. "Braves the Storm" could see, but he could only see "Dumpster Diver", who in turn found that he could only see the Silver Fang elder. Similarly, "Stalks the Weak" found he could see the Black Fury and "Forrest's Mother" could only see the Get. As you might guess, "Frozen Steel" could see the lupus born and "Red Tracks in the Snow" could see only the homid born Glass Walker. They also realized they could only hear the voice of the one they were linked with, the one who could see them only. Unicorn watched the six and faded from view." The cub jumps to his feet and moves quickly around those gathered. Creating a sense of urgency, of the impending battle.

Cutter kneels down and whispers to Shadow, then moves quietly toward the edge of the caern.

Fights-For-Hope perks his ears, listening intently to the coming battle... the meat of the story to any Get of Fenris.

Three-Blades continues her tail twitching, the cub's story holding her interest with the linking and handicapped Garou facing Dancers all around.

Adrian pauses, he falls silent for a moment and watches everyone, trying to reel them into the tale. He begins again, his voice calm, "As the enemy advanced on the Caern, the younger Garou started to fight. The Elders realized what Unicorn had done and started to work together, forcing aside their prejudices to help one another. No matter how much they hated the one they were "shackled" to they had to learn, rather quickly, how to work with the other. To communicate with each other despite their disadvantages. To protect the Caern and defeat the Wyrm's minions. Claws ripped the air as the Elders worked back to back with each other. One would speak to the blind one about where his enemies were while the partner did the same. Blood soaked the ground as the tides turned against the Dancers. Many Garou fell, but none of the Sept of Gaia's Scalp." He lets out a mighty yell, akin to a howl of triumph.

Fights-For-Hope tilts back his head, mouth opening with a sigh of breath, but only mimics a howl.

Adrian circles the assembled again, his eyes falling on each in turn as he passes, a smile on his lips as he finishes the tale. "When all was said and done, the Sept was safe and the enemy hunted down. Unicorn reappeared and released the Garou Elders from their ban. Once free of their disadvantages, the Garou realized what they were doing to their Sept. While they never would get along all the time, they worked hard to set an example for the younger Garou so the Sept would never be handicapped again, whether physically or spiritually. Unicorn's lesson well learned, the Sept grew stronger. For only by working with one another, despite our differences can we truly fight the Wyrm wherever it breeds and dwells. Only then will the Nation, their sept and ours truly win. This is the tale of the Sept of Gaia's Scalp." The young man stops and kneels in front of Jamethon, his eyes on the ground, showing deference and awaiting judgment.

Fights-For-Hope steps forward now and standing above Adrian looks back over the Caern, raising once more to Crinos in place. ~Sept of the Hidden Walk... you have heard my cub speak his story. Tell me now, with a grand noise... do you, Garou of the Hidden Walk, find him worthy of the rank of Cliath?~ His words call out, not just a little pride in them.

Firewatcher's claws dig into the ground of the dirt at the tale, obviously moved by it. But at Fights-for-Hope's words, her reaction is to look around at the others present, short tail wagging jerkily.

Jarred shifts to his warform and releases a loud, long howl.. the word for 'talespinner' in the Mother's Tongue.

Salem shifts his weight slightly; the Walker's reaction is muted, but there's approval there. He looks at Adrian. "Well told."

Fat-Ripper pauses just a bit, grinning at the cub, revelling a bit in the post-story tension, and then raises her voice to match Jarred's, or at least almost, in a loud, glad, aimless howl.

Charlie, who had been, up to this point, looking quite uncomfortable and restless, exhales slowly, nodding as the cub finishes his story. Seems it may have summed up a few things that were playing out in the no-moon's own mind.

Judges-Souls tilts back her muzzle, with a quick howl of approval that barely lingers. This done she returns to his breed form, standing as a human once more.

Three-Blades glances about when the story resolves. Given the story and the events of the moot tonight, the Gnawer ragabash rises to all fours. He is Get, but he sees beyond merely blood and Rage. He understands the need for Garou to work together. He understands - now it is time for him to act. The no-moon lifts her muzzle and howls approval. First rank!

Luke applauds. Just clapping, since he doesn't want to retake the warform tonight, and he still doesn't look in the least pleased, but he's not about to deny the cub his due simply because his own rage is still running high.

Fights-For-Hope turns from the gathered at large while they still howl and with a hand beckons for his cub to stand at his side, the both now looking to Firewatcher. His words are loud enough to be heard by the new alpha as he questions her, ~Truthcatcher... you hear the sept. What say you? Does the Hidden Walk accept Stonehenge, Galliard of the Get of Fenris, as Cliath?~

Brings-Buffalo chuffs. Well told. He's not exactly excited by the topic, but he's not about to deny the kid his due. He howls his agreement -- and his welcome to the new cliath

~The Sept does, Fights-for-Hope,~ Firewatcher responds promptly. Then her own tongue lolls, approval evident in her posture, cracking through some of the tension and rage that had been building in her all night. ~Well sung, galliard.~

Adrian stands at Jamethon's side. He tries to maintain a mask of calm on his face, but his eyes dart around and watch everyone and a crack of smile plays on his lips.

Adrian speaks quietly to Firewatcher, "Thank you, Alpha."

Taslyn applauds as well and beams a smile towards Adrian.

Fights-For-Hope turns back to the Sept and with a quick glance to the storyteller speaks to him, ~Then announce your name so the Sept may know you, newly arrived Cliath.~

Defiant-Storm's gaze rests squarely on this Get cub. Her yellow eyes are hard for most people, especially cubs, to look at too long. Again, she shows her teeth and then covers them up. The quiet rumble that eventually escapes her throat is in accord with the others. ~Not bad, kid,~ she says, after Firewatcher's pronouncement.

Firewatcher shakes her head at Adrian's words to her, but then a sigh escapes her, and she slouches further to the ground, nearly seated.

Adrian gives an almost marine "Hoo-Wa!" like yell. "I am Stonehenge, Cliath Talespinner of the Get of Fenris."

Salem's granite facade cracks slightly as his lips twitch into a half-smile.

Fat-Ripper resumes her howl, though it comes out this time more as a yelp of congratulation. ~Good story, Stonehenge-yuf,~ she tells him, smiling, articulating particularly carefully that finall syllable.

Brings-Buffalo quirks a confused eyebrow. ~Stonehenge?~

The Storytelling over, Luke taps Jamethon, Trevor, and a few others to assist in the Rite of Summoning before the revel commences, though the gathered Garou will have a short time before the group's preparations bear fruit.

Fights-For-Hope only nods to this, melts back down to the lupine form and chuffs thoughtfully to the new Cliath as he steps back to join the gathered Get of Fenris, ~Good job... Speaks-The-Mountain's-Tale. You shall join us in the revel tonight...~ This said he moves towards his pack Alpha, ready to bring the engling for the fight.

The area's lone Red Talon waves her tail briefly for the young Get of Fenris, then slips off to the side and lies down. She watches those preparing for the Revel, tongue sweeping over her chops.

Adrian smiles and quietly repeats, "Speaks-The-Mountains-Tale..."

If the Shadow Lord Elder catches Luke's eye, he gives a respectful nod before preparing himself for the revel.

Fat-Ripper raises herself up onto her legs, and shifts down into her Homid form, grabbing her coat from on top of her bag, wrapping herself in it, and stepping briskly over towards the newly-minted Cliath.

Jarred walks over to Fights and Stonehenge, clapping the new Cliath on the shoulder. "Well done. You'll have my written critique on form and content by end of business tomorrow." He winks and grins.

Firewatcher watches the preparations for the Revel commence, then with an effort, shifts down to homid.

Luke, catching Jarred's nod before he begins the transition into the Umbra, dips his head in return. Shortly thereafter, the Fostern vanishes from view.

Taslyn congratulates Adrian with a smiles. "Congratulations!" As she chuckles. "A wonderful job!" before she leaves and heads off...

Adrian laughs at Jarred, "I look forward to it Jarred-rhya." He pauses and adds, "After that, I'd like to talk to you of your Pack idea."

Adrian looks to Tas, "Thanks, " A slight blush.

Adrian watches Olgas approach.

Jarred nods and smiles. "As you wish. Perhaps after you've eaten your breakfast. You have a long night ahead of you."

Megan looks around at those still gathered, seeing Salem. In a low voice, although not so low that no one else can't hear if they chose to listen, "It is still the time for stories, that time before the Revel. And it is that time I would tell my story, of why I left, of why I was gone, and why I returned. There are some here who assume I abandoned this Sept, rather than to consider that a Fostern philodox would not show such dishonor."

Olga smiles at Adrian when she gets up close to him. "Congrats," she says, "Mountain-Story, uh, Sings-the, uh, Song-of-Mountains, uh," she scratches at her chin, getting her memories all sorted out, and finally enunciates clearly, "Speaks-the-Mountain's-Tale-yuf, is what I shoulda said, not Stonehenge any more, not a cub. We got stuff t' talk about, true," she says, smile dampening a bit, "but t'night's y'r night and y' earned it, so let's put that off f'r now, eh?"

Three-Blades shakes herself before eyeing around the preparations and congratulations. Padding over more towards Megan's vicinity, she chuffs once and then sits to listen.

Adrian nods once to Olga. "Tomorrow." His eyes are cold to her, despite his genial mood.

Salem looks over at Megan, one eyebrow rising. "I _was_ rather curious about that," he says dryly.

Fights-For-Hope turns to regard Megan as she begins explaining her absence during so many important events here at the Walk, where the more powerful Garou were needed dearly.

Olga frowns at that, but as the boy said, "tomorrow". She breaks off from him and Jarred with a nod to the latter and a "Yeah, well, congrats," to the former, moving over to the group gathering around the Adren.

Megan notices Three-Blades's approach, and smiles at the Bone Gnawer, a remembered form if not well known. "Do you know," Megan asks, with amusement, "that of all those I've spoken to since my return, only Renee *asked*? Not even Luke did that," Megan says, amusement fading. "So his claims that I *abandoned* this Caern are based solely on his beliefs, and not truth." She sighs. "The story is a long one, and not one that many here knew. It goes back nine years, to when I was barely out of cubhood myself, and there is not a small amount of shame in it, for me."

Salem settles down, sitting crosslegged, arms resting on his legs and fingers laced together.

Three-Blades licks her nose at the Sept Alpha. Perhaps your story will explain why you were busy that not even a galliard could pass words about you to us. The Gnawer does look pleased that she is remembered though.

Olga nods to Megan genially enough in return, but veers off from the group, towards her old orange bag, dragging it over with her. "Anybody want a blanket?" she asks, digging inside it, and pulling out a small baby-blue fleece sort of cloth.

Megan nods her head. "I should have perhaps done a better job of it," she says to Three-Blades. "But even the galliards aren't perfect, no matter what they say." She winks, teasing obviously, then sighs. "Nine years ago, I nearly died. The first time of many. It was at the Great Hunt. We were attacking the Power Plant, in the city. I am a halfmoon, not an ahroun, but I had delusions back then that I could fight as well as one. Needless to say, I went down, and was saved by a spirit of Weasel. But spirit gifts come dear, not free, and in return, that spirit took decades from my life. While I was taken that night as a girl of seventeen, I returned a woman, physically, of middle-age."

Three-Blades looks surprised there, to say the least.

Salem rubs his chin, listening thoughtfully, eyes narrowed.

"Years pass," Megan continues, still quietly. She's making no effort to make her voice carry, the trick perhaps forcing those listening to lean in to make sure to catch everything. She tilts her head, pensively, then nods. "About four years. I have continued to live and fight at this Sept, gone through one pack, joined a second, Challenged Patrick for Fostern and failed, Challenged again, to Su, and passed, joined Blackwatch, ran with Brian, called Echen. It is he who began the next chapter of my saga, for my age'd appearance did not sit well with him, that one he knew to be a girl years his junior looked old enough to be his mother. So, unbenknownst to any of our pack, he made a deal with the Fae of the Winter Court."

Olga grumbles a little. "Well, alright, nobody's gotta take a blanket, y' wanna be cold, be cold," she mutters very softly to herself, trying to voice her rumbles without actually interrupting the elder's story. She sits down on the cold ground, draping the blanket over her legs and leaning on her bag with a rumpling sound.

Salem mutters, "Ah, the fae, of course," in a wry sort of way. His gaze cuts briefly sidelong to Olga and he snorts.

Three-Blades breaks off her gaze from Megan to glance at Olga and chuff with a quirk of her ear, this one has fur, but thank you. Switching gears she returns her attentions to the adren telling the tale.

Adriansits down to listen.

Megan's expression darkens, and a spark of the anger which was so prevalent earlier this evening returns to smolder in her visage. "He brought us to them. Again, deals with spirits come dear, not free, and I was forced with the choice: either choose champions from among my packmates for the trials the Queen had prepared, or allow my Righ to die. For that was the deal *he* had made." Her jaw clenches briefly, then gentles. "Needless to say, I chose the trials, even though forboding already filled me. I could not chose the latter choice."

Salem shakes his head silently, grimacing.

Three-Blades considers the choice in her own mind. Which would she choose?

Olga listens attentively, lying against her bag except when the Fianna becomes particularly quite and she has to lean in towards her to hear, after which she always refinds her bag with a slight crinkle. She shakes her head at times, or very quietly clucks her tongue: she's what you might call an active listener.

"The champions won," Megan says simply. "Enough so that we were not turned out, and the Queen gave me a task to do, a ritual to be performed on Samhain--Halloween," she translates from the Gaelic. "Again, if I did not do the ritual, Brian would be killed. All I was told was that once performed, the ritual would free a knight of the Fae, and his name: Neit. I had months to prepare, and I used that time to try to find out all I could about this knight. The forboding had grown. I *knew*, as if I had the theurge gift, that freeing the knight would be bad, balls to bones, but I could find no proof to support my suspicions. And always, there hung the other choice: certain death for Brian if I did not."

Three-Blades continues listening, remembering Brian in her mind as well as faces of the past.

Olga merely sits, quieting herself so that she doesn't lose a word. Her brow furrows a bit in concern.

Megan shakes her head. "I returned to this Sept at the appearance only of my true age, a glamour of the Fae that does not take away the fact that my natural life will be years shorter than they might once had been. I prepared for the ritual. It was the kind of decision which keeps a Philodox up at night, to take the risk of the uncertain fate against the certain. And I did lose much sleep over it. But I chose the unknown fate, preparing for the worst, and hoping for the best." She takes a deep, ragged breath--this is obviously difficult for her. "I did the ritual, and freed the knight. And he thanked me, and told me that in return, he would reward me with the hearts of five good men, to be gifted to me when the gathering was completed. I did everything I could," she said, anger ingrained deeply in her voice, "I told him he was free from his debt. I tried challenging him. And when he laughed in my face at these, I tried to attack him. And found out that part of the magic of the ritual was that I couldn't touch him. Not a hair on his head. Nor he me, until his bond was completed."

Three-Blades tilts her ears back, not exactly sure what to make of the Neit knight in the story, but continuing to listen.

Salem grimaces again, but doesn't look surprised; the Walker's pessimism runs deep.

Fights-For-Hope growls lowly something about deals with fae and then something even lower about agreeing with 'that strider'.

"For two years," Megan's voice grates, raw pain over hot anger, "I waited. Of course, I told my pack of what happened, as I could take no direct action to stop him, while they might, but nothing was done. For two years, I waited, like King Damocles, for the thread to snap and the sword to drop. For two years, in which other events happened, events which drove me away from Blackwatch, and to find another pack. When, three years ago, I received word that my great-grandfather, Ian McDiarmuid, had passed away in Boston, I came to a decision. Caernbuilder, as he was called there, was an old, old Garou, of high rank, and as his kin, I must attend his Gathering. I left word with my pack, Chiarascuro, that I would be leaving, perhaps for some time. One of them, a Black Fury named Tecmessa, insisted on coming with me. She was one of the few outside of Blackwatch who knew what had happened. We went to Boston, to the Sept of the Fens."

Three-Blades blinks a couple of times at the old names, ears twitching as cogs turn within.

Salem rubs his chin, nose wrinkling slightly at mention of Boston.

Olga watches as the Fianna talks: she is completely silent, now, hands curled up into fists resting on the blanket.

"Realize," the Fianna says, "that when I left here, this was a strong, vital Sept. Brian, an Adren ahroun of my tribe, was Alpha, with Steven and Eamon at his side. Robert was still Warder. Andrea and her pack ran in the territory of Lake Arthur, and Nightflash and his pack patrolled the lands south of the Caern. Joseph and Sepdet and their pack also was here, with Pete Barlow and Kaz and John the Glass Walker in the city. I was but one of many Fostern, and not a few Adren. But," she says, pausing, "while this Sept was strong, it was not strong with what I needed. I felt the weight and the guilt of Neit's vow gnawing at my belly like a canker--like the Wyrm would on a Glade. I had to take care of Neit--that was *my* personal responsibility, and for that, I needed Garou, Fianna, versed in the ways of the Fae like none here were. The Fens is young, only about sixty years old, but the Fianna tribe there is strong. I knew they would have the resources I needed."

Three-Blades flattens her ears back. So much has happened since Megan was gone, and those memories come up with a hard tidal wave like smack.

Salem sits up, bending one knee and resting his arm upon it. He grunts agreement.

Fights-For-Hope gives a wuffing bark, a vague question asking if Megan found what she was seeking.

Olga again just listens to the unfamiliar names, the garou who'd gone before. She puts her arms under the blanket to keep warm.

Megan takes a deep breath, and looks at all of them in turn. "After my Grandfa's Gathering, I approached the Alpha of that Sept. He is an Athro Glass Walker, but he worked long with my Grandfa, and in a Sept where power is divided between Glass Walkers and Fianna, he at least understands. I made him an offer, for it were the resources of his Sept that I requested aid from: that I could approach the Fianna, and ask. And if any did, Tecmessa and I would live among them, act like a members of the Sept, and protect their territory when it would be weakened by the attention given to my problem. And this would continue until I was dead, Neit was killed, or he fulfilled his vow. And then," Megan adds, "and only then, would my true Chiminage for that Sept's aid be rendered, service for a year and a day. Know this: I was not a member of the Sept of the Fens, never that. I was a guest. A welcome guest, but that is all."

"For two years," Megan says, repeating her intonation of earlier, "for two *more* years, the hunt was on. A pack called the Musketeers, led by an Adren Fianna Galliard by the name of Sean Connor, my foster brother," Megan says with a hint of pride, "helped me. It was they who did the work, while Tecmessa and I patrolled their territory, and it was that pack's ahroun, Killian O'Riley, who challenged and defeated Neit, four years and four hearts into his freedom," she says with an odd mixture of lustful satisfaction and deep pain and regret.

Three-Blades's teeth show in satisfaction. Those that kill good men should only get their reward.

Fights-For-Hope asks now, a low question following the previous one, was it worth it?

Salem murmurs, "One good man gets to live."

Megan's jaw clenches again, and she swallows hard, hands going out palm up. "And the next day began my Chiminage service to that Sept. Much like here, I taught Cubs, I taught gifts, I taught Rites. They allowed me to Challenge for Adren," a queer smile flickers through her expression, "in one of the worst nights of my life. I got married. And then, the *day* after my duty to that Sept was discharged, I was on a plane home, to here." She looks at Fights-for-Hope, acknowledging his question with a twist of her mouth. "Until you prize honor higher than wisdom or glory, it is very difficult to comprehend what it is like to live under the burden of that creed." She then gives Salem a nod. "When I left here, I could have no idea what would happen in my absence. And when word started to filter in of the events here. But I gave my word, Fights-for-Hope," she says, addressing the Get of Fenris directly. "I gave my word to an Athro that I would see that task through to completion, and what kind of Keeper of the Ways would I be if I broke my word? None at all," she answers herself. "I regret that I wasn't here. Deeply, and terribly, just as I regret having performed the ritual to release Neit into the world at all. But there is much in our life, we can't control. And sometimes, all we can try to do is to atone for our mistakes all our lives."

The Get Elder, a follower primarily of the creed of wisdom, does not respond to her words. He does however, give a quick chuff to all gathered before heading off to the revel.

Three-Blades slowly relaxes the muscles she'd been tensing subconsciously. Now that she's heard the Alpha's story, the ragabash will have to mull it over but for now she seems satisfied. No-moon though I am, I understand your story. Her ears splay back for a short moment, before she half-turns to head towards the Revel. She glances back and chuffs softly, Welcome back, Firewatcher-rhya.

Fights-For-Hope does, seem however to have a thought as he walks away and he turns to voice them, ~These were choices beyond your control... all brought about by that... that Fianna.~ He growls, ~But you made choices based on that mistake you and he made... choices that endangered this Sept in dire times while you were away gaining rank far from us. You chose to give so dearly of yourself so others could make up for your mistakes. Is that another mistake you will have to live with, Firewatcher?~

Olga looks at Megan, when her story is done, and takes the opportunity she's been longing to, reaching into her bag for the peanuts that had been screaming at her for a good deal of the moot, and definitely the story. She palms one deftly into her hand, holds the open bag out to the others, wordlessly, obligingly.

Three-Blades sniffs at the peanuts and decides, eh why not? The ragabash pads back towards Olga, eyes asking for a peanut. Maybe it'll be the last thing she ever eats - who knows, considering the Revel ahead.

Megan levels a cool look at Fights-for-Hope when she responds. "Mistakes are a label often given in hindsight, Get. I chose to gave so dearly of myself to rectify the mistake, once identified as such, because that is what honor demands. But, yes," she says, acknowledging his question. "It is a consequence of my decision I will have to bear all my life. But, until you may predict the future, or are perfect yourself, be not so quick to cast stones, theurge. The creed of wisdom states 'I shall be merciful'. I would ask that you show some of that, to someone who has flagellated herself more frequently and deeply than your words could."

Fights-For-Hope nods his head, and responds quickly, ~I don't seek to beat upon you, Firewatcher. You misrepresent my intentions... my only concern is for the greater good, and that begins with the health of this Sept. Your... arrival and subsequent dismissal of one who has worked and continued to work incredibly hard to earn the trust of each and every Garou here, and to strengthen that Sept and indeed others beyond us. Well, you give me cause to worry. I hear your story, and I understand what has driven you. I do not doubt your ability, I do however pray that my lack of doubt is founded...~ He gives another chuff, a soft one in replica of a sigh, ~Very well... I do still have orders from an alpha here, if not the current one... and, unless you want to retract that order to achieve dearly required allies and friends... I will need your help as a contact and mediator in allying with the Fen, and seeing to establishing a moon bridge between us.~

Fights continues briefly, ~And that ritual you performed tonight, the inner sky... if at all possible, it needs to be spread. As Gatekeeper and one close to our caern Totem, I would like... no love... to learn it.~

Megan grins. Actually, honest to God, grins at Fights-for-Hopes request. Then laughs shortly. "Charlie's already contacted them, it's part of how I found out about what was up here. Stirred up a bee's nest, for sure." Turning serious, she says, "Gatekeeper is a position of the Caern, not the Sept, who answers to the Warder, not the Alpha. But if you would like my blessings--I give them. And if you would like more active help...there are a few Glass Walkers I know how to contact. You don't want to go through the Fianna," she advises. "But, I heard Luke wanted to create moonbridges to some of the other Caerns. Again, that's something that is ultimately the Warder's decision. And," she concludes, "the Fens have no pathstone, so, there couldn't *be * a moonbridge there."

Olga cracks peanuts, putting the meat in one hand and the shells back in the bag, and sharing the former with Yi. "Thank you for explainin', Meg," she says, looking up at her, "ah, I mean, Megan-rhya," she quickly corrects herself, forehead creasing. "Although it worries me t' no end t' think that it would take a faerie five years to find five good men. That," she pauses, "that really scares me. Ah, don't we got a Revel 'r somethin' t' get to?" she asks.

Three-Blades partakes of a peanut with an audible crunch, but the comedy is absent to the ragabash as she whuffs loudly. Yes, let us not roll in shit already passed! We have our caern to protect this night, and a city to retake in the future. With an all too feral show of fangs, the no-moon turns away and pads off to lend her claws in the night's Revel.

Fights-For-Hope seems a bit disheartened by the news of a lack of a pathstone, though he nods with a dismissive posture at her mention of the Warder, obviously already known to him. ~That... is sad to hear. Still there are other possible allies we know of who do possess one... we will seek them out. I hope you'll see to teaching that rite as soon as you can.~ With that he gives one final, perhaps warmer, chuff before heading off to prepare for the Revel.

Megan gives Fights-for-Hope's back a wave, then goes to claim some of Olga's peanuts. "Megan is fine, Olga," she says with a genuine, if tired smile. "The honorific seems to formal to me, unless the situation warrants it, or if you're really feeling the need to show submission."