"You spineless, gutless, manipulative, smarmy little _coward_,"

[hazlogs]

It is currently 18:02 Pacific Time on Mon Feb 2 2004.

Currently in Saint Claire, it is a cloudy day. The temperature is 42 degrees
      Fahrenheit (5 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from the 
      north at 8 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 29.66 and steady, and 
      the relative humidity is 85 percent. The dewpoint is 38 degrees 
      Fahrenheit (3 degrees Celsius.)

Currently the moon is in the waxing Gibbous Moon phase (79% full).

Porch

A lathe-turned wooden railing runs the length of the porch save where the steps
      are, well-worn with use. To the right of the stairs, a wide swing is 
      suspended from the overhang which shelters this area; to the left, a 
      small table is the centerpiece for several chairs pulled around it, all 
      of which face out to the front yard and the fields and trees beyond. The 
      biting cold of winter is tempered somewhat by the sheltering of the roof, 
      but it is still enough to make the porch an inhospitable place to tarry 
      for long. Even the low shrubs seem to avoid it, their leafless woody 
      stems closed in tight upon themselves.
An aging screen door newly refurbished stands between the heavy inner door of
      the house and the outside air. Four steps lead down to the lane, a number 
      of pots with small flower seedling carefully arranged alongside them.

Jarred nods respectfully. "Thank you, Alpha. It is my great pleasure to present
      to you my tribe's newest arrival. Asteryx..." He gestures to the youth. 
      "Please introduce yourself to Firewatcher."

Asteryx looked apprehensively at Jarred for a moment, but then came forward,
      seeming to gather himself up. Looking up at the alpha and kneeling down, 
      as was custom and ceremony where this one was from, he spoke in a deep, 
      quiet voice, reverent and strong. "Honor to you, ryeh. My name is Asteryx 
      "Dances-o'er-the-Lying-Heart", dancer 'neath the gibbous moon and servant 
      of Grandfather Thunder. I come from the Sept of the Falling Shores in 
      Maine in hopes that you will accept me in the war for Gaia, mighty 
      Alpha." With that, he looked up expectantly, waiting hopefully for a 
      positive reaction...

Megan gets a faintly pained expression at the end of Asteryx's little speech,
      but then grimaces, expression smoothing. She squares her shoulders, and 
      says, "You may already know, but I'm Megan O'Brien, called Firewatcher, 
      as Jarred knows me, or Keeps Her Patience, philodox of the Fianna, of the 
      rank of Adren, and Sept Alpha of the Hidden Walk. What brings you to 
      leave the Sept of the Falling Shores and move across the country to here, 
      Asteryx Dances?"

Jarred remains silent, allowing the two to complete their formal banter. He
      stands neutrally, hands clasped behind him.

From the ground, a slightly shamefaced expression came over Asteryx's face...
      It was obvious that there was some negativity connected to his departure 
      from the Sept of the Falling Shores, but he quickly shakes that 
      expression from his face and looks up from the ground, a resolute, stout 
      expression on his face as he gathered his words. "Well, the skills and 
      dreams I possess were seen to be better used elsewhere, alpha-ryeh... I 
      was told by the Elders that the war in Maine was one of espionage and 
      monkeywrenching, and that tribal diplomacy and leadership was best taken 
      to the West Coast. Honestly, I wasn't told what plagues the honorable 
      Garou here..." With that he clenched his fists tightly, looking back at 
      Jarred briefly as if for security check, and then turned his eyes back to 
      the alpha. "But I... I hope that my actions here will bring the Garou 
      closer together, and that perhaps I can help to unite us in these times 
      before the War... That is my dream..." he turned his eyes to the ground 
      and sighed. "For the honor of all Garou..." Strange this one... He seemed 
      to have rather... Unshadow Lord-esque qualities...

Jarred gives a reassuring glance to the younger galliard when he looks over,
      but continues to be silent.

For all his words may be Un-Shadow Lord'esque, Megan's demeanor doesn't change
      any at his speech, remaining cool, and rather formal. She studies him for 
      a time which may grow to uncomfortable lengths, before nodding once. She 
      looks over to Jarred, and asks, "Has he offered chiminage yet?"

Jarred nods. "He has, Firewatcher-Rhya." From the folds of his coat, Jarred
      produces a dark idol. This he proffers to the Alpha, should she wish to 
      examine it more closely. "I will allow Asteryx to explain its function." 
      He inclines his head at his junior, indicating permission to explain his 
      gift to the Sept.

Megan does, in fact, reach out a hand to study the idol while Asteryx explains.

Asteryx - The youngster nodded and stood up, spreading his arms wide, looking
      toward the snowy heavens. "Grandfather Thunder has blessed this idol with 
      his mighty countenance, and when activated it summons the Might of the 
      stormy one over a foe, sending terror through its corrupted, wyrmish 
      hide. It only works on creatures who are corrupted, and it sends them 
      into a terror similar to what a weak-willed human experiences when they 
      would see us in the war form. I hope it is worthy..." With that, the 
      youth lowered his arms, turning his eyes back on the idol.

Asteryx - The boy turned his dark features toward Jarred, as if looking for
      approval briefly...

Megan breaks into a slight smile, muttering but loud enough to be audible to
      the two Shadow Lords, "Definitely a Galliard," with her first hint of 
      amusement. She hands the idol back to Jarred, saying in a more normal 
      volume, "Please keep this for now, but I'd like it to be available if 
      there is need for it. I assume you've accepted him in?"

Jarred nods. "I have accepted him to the extent my authority allows. He is
      currently dwelling at Shadow's End and was formally introduce at the 
      Shadow Lords' Moot last week. All that remains is for you to give your 
      blessing, Alpha. I am well pleased with the boy's eloquence, and his 
      outlook, while somewhat different from what the Lords are generally known 
      to espouse, I believe will fit into the Sept's worldview quite nicely, if 
      you will be gracious enough to allow him."

Asteryx smiles briefly at the Elder's words, but quickly crosses the smile off
      with that solemn look of dignity, though still flushing with pride.

Megan's mouth quirks again, with amusement, although she tries to retain a
      modicum of cool formality. "Well, he seems clean, and a fetish is on the 
      higher end of what's been offered lately. I have no objections. Welcome 
      to the Hidden Walk, Asteryx." Some of her formality *does* thaw, at that, 
      and she turns to retrieve her now lukewarm mug of what smells like cocoa. 
      "So, a galliard. It doesn't seem like we have many of those around, and 
      with the Protectorate so flung out, I would, really, like to re-establish 
      a better means of communicating news between city and out here," she 
      says, indicating the woods. "I'm working on pulling a pack together to 
      play intermediaries, but, I also need the help of your auspice. Telling 
      stories. Passing news and info, both to me, and to everyone else." She 
      takes a sip from her mug. "Think you can handle that, self-styled 
      diplomat?"

Jarred smiles over at the young Galliard, his mind awash in memories of his own
      first meeting with Firewatcher, which did not, as a general fact, go 
      nearly so well.

Asteryx stands up, a look of fiery confidence in his eyes as he strides
      forward, obviously forgetting his formality briefly. "Yes, I can handle 
      it! I will do everything I can for the Nation, and together we will 
      strike down the Corruptor and free our Mother!" The enthusiam died away 
      with those last words as realization of his lack of formality struck him 
      and he stepped back, stuttering an apology at his lack of etiquette... 
      "What I meant to say, was yes, alpha, I am prepared for the duties of my 
      Auspice and am ready to strengthen the network."

Headlights wash over the scene as a car drives up the lane toward the farmhouse
      and parks. Darkness falls again and then, with the sound of car doors 
      opening and closing, three figures emerge -- Jean (from the driver's 
      side), Salem (from the front passenger's seat) and Signe (who, 
      apparantly, got stuck sitting in the back).

Megan flashes a grin at Asteryx's exuberance, but then nods to him. "Good." She
      glances over at the arrival of the other car and, noticing who it is, 
      adds, "Better. If you haven't, yet, you should meet Jack Salem. He's the 
      Glass Walker elder. And Signe, the Get of Fenris elder. They both hang 
      out in the city, and a couple of the people you should keep in your 
      network."

Signe brushes invisible lint from her jacket and readjusts the garment on her
      shoulders. She looks disgruntled and irritated, kicking her legs out to 
      stretch them as she wanders up to the porch.

Doc comes in through the back of the house, peanut butter and jelly in hand. In
      Doc's world there is always room for more peanut butter and jelly. Its 
      the cure for what ail's ya. She stops short realizing she's walked 
      straight into a crowd, and does a sort of fade-into-wall act wherein she 
      leans against the nearest wall and eats her sandwhich and basically 
      stares out into space.

Turning around at the flash of headlights, the cliath stepped forward at her
      words, and his eyes narrowed as he examines the elders, keeping a 
      respectful aire around him, obviously a practiced skill. Stepping 
      forward, admiration in his eyes, he kneals before them, speaking. "Honor 
      to you, elder of the concrete jungle, and elder of Fenris's Warriors..." 
      He kept his eyes on the ground, an unreadable expression etched in his 
      face.

Jean trails inobstrusively behind the two Fostern, pausing when she spies her
      two tribemates. But then, she smiles warmly, stuffing her hands into the 
      pockets of her winter coat.

Jarred turns to regard the new arrivals as well. He says nothing but fixes a
      neutral stare in Salem's direction. He does, however nod to the others as 
      protocol demands.

Salem is giving Signe a tightly amused look as the three of them mount the
      porch steps. His attention turns to Asteryx as the stranger begins 
      speaking, but the greeting goes almost entirely unnoticed -- because the 
      Glass Walker's spotted Jarred. The faint, thin smile vanishes completely 
      as he stalks up to the Shadow Lord Elder, predatory and deliberate.

Asteryx flashes a gaze at Jarred, noting his expression... And then turns those
      dark eyes upon Salem, blinking slightly, unsure of what was going on. The 
      look on his face strikes the young Lord to an obvious air of caution, and 
      tension builds in those shoulders...

Signe has less interest in the Shadow Lord elder than the Walker does, so her
      gaze on the new kid lingers much longer. Dark eyes regard the thin young 
      Shadow Lord with severe scrutiny. "Hey, Frodo," she greets, offhandedly.

Jean gives Salem's back a nervous glance, then smiles to Asteryx. "Hi,
      Asteryx," she says hard on the heels of Signe's greeting.

Asteryx turns at Signe's greeting, a perplexed look on his features. "Hello
      Arwen...?" Shifting his eyes left to right, he glances at Jean, obviously 
      really confused as to what was going on... Turning and looking at the 
      alpha, he stands up and steps slightly in her direction.

The Shadow Lord Elder's voice is quiet, and smooth as the finest black silks of
      the orient. "Salem..." He almost lingers over the 's'. "How splendid to 
      see you. To what do we owe the honor of your presence?" Just words. And 
      it's clear enough from his inflection that they simply that. Words.

A handsome young man of 25 years, Jarred's coal black, shoulder-length hair
      frames a swarthy, clean-shaven face. His dark eyes seem to appraise his 
      surroundings with a carefully architected aire of carelessness. A pair of 
      jeans taper down the lower half of his 6'2" form, meeting a pair of 
      matte-black boots. An expensive-looking black crew neck sweater shrouds 
      his upper body. While he cuts quite an appearance of physical strength, 
      he is not overly large. He carries his frame and musculature with fluid 
      grace and ease. His every move suggests careful planning and execution, 
      making him seem at once relaxed and ready to fight. Upon his right hand a 
      large emerald glitters, set in a ring of lustrous gold. (Appearance 3, 
      Pure Breed 3)

Megan looks curious at Salem's reaction, but her attention is drawn by the
      creak of the door, and notices the other woman. Now her curiousity 
      focuses on the PB&J eater, and she says, "Excuse me, I don't think we've 
      met?" Half an eye remains on the three Fostern. "Megan O'Brien, called 
      Firewatcher or Keeps Her Patience, philodox of the Fianna. Who are you?" 
      the question is posed with polite cordialness.

Doc fumbles the sandwhich. She's stuck with a glop of jelly on her hand, which
      she surruptitiously licks off before answering, "Haley Collins, called 
      Doc Collins or just Doc, Ahroun of the Black Furies. Megan-rhya." Her 
      voice is gruff, her accent southern. That's what she gets for not 
      creeping back into the house.

Signe stares back at Asteryx. Her first reaction is surprise, followed quickly
      by a flash of anger that might raise anyone's hackles if it were aimed at 
      them. Oddly, though, the moment passes, and the Get actually smirks. 
      "that was almost funny," she says, and nudges the young Shadow Lord 
      Galliard in what's supposed to be a friendly way. Of course, it might 
      hurt, a little.

Adrian steps out onto the porch. He smiles at everyone.
Adrian looks around.

The anger on that face obviously alarms the galliard as he steps back slightly,
      his eyes widening. The nudge also comes unexpected, and the galliard 
      nearly tripped, though he saved himself by straightening up and bowing 
      his head, trying to look slightly gratified. "My pleasure that I could 
      amuse you, elder-ryah." he looks back over at Salem and Jarred, obviously 
      worried and then clears his throat slightly, looking back at Signe. 
      "Er... Signe-ryah, I was wondering... What is it that crackles between 
      the two elders over there...? Will there be conflict...?"

Salem stops in front of Jarred, the mismatched eyes narrowed. Seen together,
      they're almost of a pair, though the Slavic-bred Glass Walker is a notch 
      taller and, underneath the rigid, formal self-control, seethes with a 
      full-moon's temper. He doesn't waste words. "You spineless, gutless, 
      manipulative, smarmy little _coward_," he says. His voice is still 
      twisted under the Jackal's Curse, but either doesn't notice it, or is too 
      focussed on his objection to Jarred to care. "Why don't you finish saying 
      to my _face_ what you wanted a _cub_ to say _for_ you?"

Asteryx falls silent in shock, turning his eyes from the Get to Salem in what
      is utter horror.

Adrian watches the confrontation between Jarred and Salem and his eyes narrow
      in anger.

Signe looks between Salem and Jarred and nods to the odd little Shadow Lord.
      After Salem's little speech, all she says is, "Oh, I'd bet your skinny 
      little ass on it."

Asteryx only nods, not removing his eyes. "No doubt, Elder..."

Megan opens her mouth as if to reply to Doc, but then the tension takes on a
      palpable form, and she's interrupted. Her mouth snaps closed, then opens 
      again to say quietly to Doc, "We should talk more," in a 'hold that 
      thought' tone.

Jean winces at Salem's words. Then, she steels herself, watching the
      confrontation with a hunched, submissive posture.

A slow, almost lazy smile wends its way across Jarred's face and he nods. "Why,
      Jack Salem. If I didn't know better, I'd say that you're spoiling for a 
      challenge. And all because I sent a message with a cub... a message I was 
      regretably unable to deliver in person." He nods slightly. "Still, you 
      are correct. It was a terrible burden to foist upon such a young cub. He 
      was already in such a state, thanks to you and your impeccable flair for 
      mistreatment. But I shall remedy that lapse in etiquette now. The message 
      I meant for little Joshua to relay to you was that you are a traitor to 
      your tribe. You are a traitor to your auspice, whatever that might have 
      been once. And the tragic warping of your voice is proof that you have 
      added bad judgement to good breeding and come up with a combination that 
      is sadly... lacking."

Doc holds the thought. No problem. She finishes her sandwhich and sticks her
      hands in her pockets and stares up at the sky. Not the confrontation, 
      which she does not want to get mixed up in even peripherally.

Adrian blinks at Jarred. He makes sure he is nowhere close to either Garou.

The new galliard, the new kid on the block... It was obvious that he was
      itching to somehow do something, but he doesn't know what. Biting his lip 
      at his elder's response and reconsidering the Glass Walker's words, a 
      flash of rage rushes through his eyes, like silver fire... Yet he 
      controls himself, clenching his fists and gritting his teeth. Galliards 
      are nearly as rageful as ahrouns, some just as...

Signe is as tense as any of the others right now, but the Get seems the most
      comfortable with that tension. There's a toothy grin on her face as she 
      leans against the railing of the porch--not moving any closer or backing 
      any further away from the pair of garou that are squared off. Casually, 
      she folds her arms across her chest and simply watches.

Salem's lips twitch, showing a brief flash of teeth. "And what did you _think_
      I would do," the Glass Walker grates out, "under a fat moon, with a cub 
      telling me the equivalent of 'Take a flying fuck at a rolling donut'?" 
      Nostrils flare angrily. "But, fortunately for the boy, I don't kill 
      messengers." He takes a step closer to the Shadow Lord Fostern, moving 
      deliberately into Jarred's personal space. "You're a coward with no 
      honor, Storm-Singer, and I _challenge_ you to prove otherwise." The 
      emphasis on the word 'challenge' is clearly quite deliberate.

Adrian watches the two Garou challengefest.

It is obvious that Asteryx is nearly at the breaking point. He looks at his
      elder for approval, obviously ready to step in if necessary. Doubt races 
      acrosses his face, but it is little compared to the rage etching his 
      features. He mutters quietly under his breath... "How dare he...?"

Megan is probably the calmest of those involved, with the possible exception of
      Doc, who is staying out of it, but still, she snaps at Asteryx, "Hush, 
      you. It's his right."

He looks back at Megan, as if something was on his tongue, but he just steps
      back, fuming under his breath and sticking his hands in his coat, staring 
      at the ground... He knows she's right, and it shows in the way his 
      features relax.

For the first time, Jarred's dark eyes flash with anger. The moon's phase isn't
      making this easy, clearly. His voice, still smooth as chilled glass, is 
      somewhat lower in pitch than it was before. He takes a single step 
      backward, distaste etching itself on his chiseled face. A long moment of 
      purest tension passes and the Shadow Lord says nothing. He spares a 
      glance at his young tribemate and his look forbids any interference. 
      Again, a long, appraising look at the Glass Walker is followed by a long, 
      steadying breath. "Though I find it amusing that you accuse me of 
      dishonor with the voice of a jackel, I assure you that I am possessing of 
      honor, Philodox. As such, I'm bound to accept your challenge, as it has 
      been legally levelled."

Salem bares his teeth in a cuttingly vicious little smile when Jarred remarks
      on the irony of being accused of dishonor by one with the Jackal-Voice; 
      being an experienced Garou, the Walker's probably quite aware of the 
      insult in that situation. "Terms?" The whining tones would be far more 
      comical if not for the simmering potential of violence between and around 
      the pair.

Jean's hands, if anything, go even deeper into her pockets, with all the rage
      flowing around her. She edges back as unnoticed as she can.

This time, Jarred waits a very long moment. His eyes skillfully dance back and
      forth from staring deep into the Glasswalkers bifurcated gaze, never 
      lingering there long enough to initiate a staredown, but dancing back and 
      forth almost teasingly. The Shadow Lord is clearly no stranger to 
      infuriating people, to which the Alpha could clearly attest. At length, 
      Jarred nods. "Yes. Terms. Here are my terms, Jack Salem, Fostern Philodox 
      of the Glasswalkers. It is possible I made the judgements that I did in 
      error. Perhaps you had legitimate reasons for deserting the Shadow Lords 
      and tossing Gaia's chosen auspice to the side for the facade you now 
      wear. But you will have to prove it." The dark eyes glitter with 
      pleasure. "One week hence, you will stand before the Sept of the Hidden 
      Walk and you will tell the full story of your decisions. You will explain 
      to us all precisely why you renounced your tribe, and you will explain to 
      us all precisely why you discarded your born auspice. If you do this and 
      if you make an effort to be complete and honest, I will bare throat to 
      you before all of those gathered there and will sincerely apologize for 
      my actions."

Megan's eyes narrow, her expression turning thoughtful, her gaze turning
      towards Salem to witness his reaction.

Salem's eyes narrow as well. Jarred's dance of eyes had provoked a flicker of
      open scorn as he'd waited for the terms to be laid out, and now that they 
      are... He nods curtly. "Accepted."

Asteryx twitched with interest at this, the rage from the high moon bringing a
      fervent light into those eyes...

Adrian smiles a bit, "Sure to be a good tale for any Galliard to hear."

Jarred returns the nod. "Let those present witness this binding agreement
      between the two of us. Breaching the terms will dishonor the one 
      committing that breach." He turns to Megan. "Alpha. Do you agree?"

The new kid turned a strange, intense gaze upon Adrian... It looked like there
      was a lot that he wanted to say, but he knew enough to keep his mouth 
      shut.

Adrian smiles at the new kid, he gives him a polite nod.

"No," Megan replies curtly. "Like all Challenges, if one of you chooses to
      submit before the terms are played out, then honor is satisfied, and it 
      is *not* a dishonor. Other than that," she nods curtly. "So witnessed. 
      The terms are fair."

Doc ,who finished her sandwhich long ago, reaches up to crack her neck a little
      bit. She's far more tense than she lets on, to be sure, but this 
      certainly wasn't a beehive to stick her nose into.

From inside the farmhouse comes the Get theurge, James. He apparently comes
      out, drawn by voices, as his eyes are searching while he steps outside. 
      He is quick to stand straight again as he sees who all is gathered, in 
      particular looking over to Megan and takes a few steps in her direction.

Adrian nods to Jamethon, "Hey bro."

Jamethon looks quickly over to Adrian, and a slight grin plays at his lips.
      "Um, hey... bro." he remarks, uncertain of the words though in obvious 
      good humor about them.

Salem stares at Jarred for a moment longer, then abruptly turns his back on the
      Shadow Lord, a dark brown eye fixing on Asteryx; unsmiling, he studies 
      the newcomer for a moment.

With Salem's eyes upon him, Asteryx thursts his chest out slightly, showing
      that he is not afraid, narrowing his eyes and taking a controlled, strong 
      look. The newcomer focussed his intense brown eyes back, the swept-back 
      orbs staring with determination with a touch of fear back upon him.

Adrian shrugs back to Jamethon with a smile, "Well, ya ain't beating on me much
      anymore, were almost... kinda... equal." His eyes dart from Jamethon to 
      Salem and Jarred, their conflict resolved. He notices Asteryxs bravado 
      and laughs a bit, "Dude, not even *I* was that stupid. I'd relax around 
      Jack if I were you."

It is a strange sight... Salem is much taller and stronger looking than
      Asteryx, who's just a skinny lil' kid. He would be broken quickly in a 
      fight, it seemed, yet he appears unafraid, though at Adrian's words he 
      backs down a bit, looking upon the ground.

Salem snorts, though whether at Asteryx's bravado or Adrian's humor is unclear.
      "Welcome to St. Claire," he tells the young Shadow Lord curtly, and then 
      turns away to stand near Signe.

Jarred turns to regard Adrian briefly, something unreadable passing across his
      features as he does so. His glaze comes to rest upon his new Galliard 
      protege. "I believe our business here it concluded, Asteryx. You may 
      remain, if you like. But I must get back to the city. I can return for 
      you later if that is your wish."

Adrian nods to Salem as he moves away, "Good to see you again too Jack."

Jean's posture relaxes as the threat of immediate violence passes. She rejoins
      the group, giving Asteryx another smile.

Asteryx turns his gaze back upon Jarred and wordlessly walks toward him, a
      strange, angry expression on his face... He turned on last gaze upon 
      Jean, looking slightly helpless, and shook his head. "No, Elder... I'll 
      come back with you... I have many questions..."

Megan nods curtly again, then turns to Doc. "Sorry 'bout that, Haley. I think
      Tecmessa mentioned you to me. Has she spoken to you in the last couple of 
      weeks?"

Adrian smiles at Jarred, "Mind if I catch a ride as well, Jarred?"

Doc shrugs and shakes her head. "Naw, not since we met," she offers. "Why, is
      somethin' wrong?"

Jarred merely nods once and turns to stride off toward the black BMW. His dark
      coat billows ever so slightly in the wind.

Adrian waves and heads off to follow the fuming Galliard. "Catch ya later
      Jamethon."

"Good night," Jean calls out after Jarred softly, but then goes quiet again.

Jarred stops a moment at the sound of Jean's voice. "He turns, his voice
      surprisingly soft. "Forgive me, Jean. Good night. It was not my intent to 
      ignore you." with that, he turns and resumes his stalk to his car.

Megan grins at the Black Fury, giving Jamethon a nod of acknowledgement and a
      'just a second' look. "Maybe, but probably not. I only just heard about 
      you from Tec, and I'd wanted to make sure of your status here. Are you 
      guesting, or did you offer chiminage?"

Jamethon steps closer to and turns to look at Jarred as he does, "Good night,
      Jarred." he calls out after the Shadow Lord. He does however continue to 
      walk towards the Sept Alpha, waiting patiently for her to finish 
      speaking. Noticing Signe he gestures with a kind of half-wave to his 
      elder.

Salem leans against the porch railing, arms folded across his chest. He
      pointedly does _not_ watch Jarred depart and, to the perceptive, is 
      making an effort to pull himself back from the edge of slavering temper 
      that he'd danced near just a few moments ago.

Doc's mouth twists into a look of annoyance, though her tone manages to stay
      respectful. "I did chiminage three months ago, Alpha. I was a Guardian, 
      and have continued to act in that capacity. Further, I was WyrmFoe at the 
      very moot where you became Alpha." The moon isn't doing happy things for 
      her either, really, so she doesn't quite succeed in not sounding grouchy.

Megan grins in the face of Doc's annoyance. "Sorry," she says, sounding only a
      trifle apologetic. "Things were a bit hectic that night, and the lines of 
      communication have been pretty fractured the last few months." She 
      spreads her free hand out, more apologetic now. "I simply wanted to make 
      sure you hadn't been forgotten. Do you intend to remain a Guardian for a 
      while?"

Doc nods once. "Yeah. Seems to be needed. Don't mind doing it. As long as
      nobody has a problem with me continuin' on." Her grumpiness fades back 
      into the more normal gruffness.

Jean looks over her right shoulder towards the woods, then to Salem and Signe
      and back again. "Since we're so close...can we visit the Caern?"

Megan laughs at Doc's words. "Not in the slightest. In fact, I'm kind of glad
      if you would. Been one of my big worries since I got back, just as much 
      as Luke's." Her expression shadows at that, and she casts Jamethon a 
      look, then returns back to Doc. "Actually...if you could pull together an 
      entire, permanent, Guardian pack, I would definitely try to help make it 
      worth your while." She holds her free hand up to stay any return to 
      surliness. "Which isn't to say you're not already planning that, just, in 
      case you haven't considered it. I want to try to help make it easier on 
      you to do so."

Doc withdraws a toothpick from her pocket and sticks it in her mouth. She
      starts chewing away on it, chuckling a little because she recognized 
      Megan's staying gesture for what it was. "Workin' on it," she says. 
      Though there's a little sadness in her eyes now: she really liked Luke, 
      had become friends with him before he died. She banishes it with a quick 
      shake of her head and a hard gnaw on the toothpick.

Salem glances sidelong at Jean, then nods curtly and straightens. "If you
      want," he murmurs, and then heads down the steps and toward the backyard 
      -- giving Megan a nod on his way out.

[Scene change: The Caern]

Scar takes wolf form only moments after they reach the shelter of the forest
      and gives himself a quick shake. Still tense, he leads the way toward and 
      into the caern, navigating the Bawn with the ease of familiarity.

Shadow is obviously less familiar with the way, but follows and watches Scar
      avidly to learn it. When she reaches the Caern, she sniffs at the steamy 
      air, then shifts up. She looks noticably more relaxed here, at this 
      place, then almost anywhere in the city.

Scar remains on four legs, muzzle lifting briefly to scent the air. He looks
      over at Jean, his manner dour and curmudgeonly for a moment, and then he 
      snorts, shakes himself again, and sits down.

Jean takes a deep breath, then lets it out. "Can we go into the Umbra here, or
      do we need the Groundskeeper's permission?"

Scar cocks his head at her. We can go, yes. If you want.

There is a lessening of Jean's composure here, as if a piece of her facade had
      cracked, or was slipping. While Signe and Scar were feeling their rage 
      earlier, she seems to be affected by the Caern. "I would like it, if you 
      don't mind. I've never been, and...it's been a while," she admits.

Scar studies the Theurge for a moment, then huffs and gets to his paws. To the
      Shadow, then, the would-be alpha of this would-be pack agrees -- albeit 
      with a terseness which indicates that the Umbra is not at all his 
      favorite place to visit.

Signe appears, then, coming up the valley floor with her hands tucked into her
      jacket pockets.

Scar looks up as the Get arrives and utters a short, quick yip. We're going
      into the Shadow. Join us?

Signe lifts her chin, seeing the others. she nods and starts to jog to get
      there quicker.

Whether Jean notices or simply doesn't react to Scar's demeanor...either way,
      she is having a hard time keeping the smile off her face, although she 
      does give Signe a quick nod of submissive greeting before following to 
      wherever Salem leads to reach from.

[Umbra]

Scar leads the way, but he's not the first into the Umbra, most likely. Once
      through, the Glass Walker shakes himself like a dog ridding itself of 
      water and then lies down in near sphinx-position, one forepaw curled 
      toward his chest.

Jean takes a deeeeeeeep breath, holds it, then lets it out again. She seems to
      relax. Which the two Fostern may only be able to tell, now that she has, 
      because her normal state suddenly seems more controlled in comparison. 
      She closes her eyes briefly, smiling, then looking around. "Does this 
      look like a normal evening, to you?" she asks them both, taking it all in.

Scar's left ear tilts backwards. Dourly, he tells the Shadow Lord that it seems
      normal to him, but it's not as strong as it once was.

Signe blurs down into the wolf form like the Walker elder. Apparently the Get
      feels more comfortable, here, in that shape. She walks on heavy padded 
      feet in a circle around the central area of the caern. Jean's question is 
      greeted with an odd quirk of her ears. she doesn't specifically answer, 
      but her expression shows she agrees with Scar.

This wolf's coloring is darker than most of her kind. The color of the thick
      grey fur of the head, ruff, and back is so dark it almost looks like it's 
      covered in soot. It tempers slowly to an ash grey at the paws and tail. 
      The muzzle is dusted with lighter grey markings, as well, but overall her 
      facial fur is as dark as her demeanor. 

She appears to be in good health, standing perhaps a tad larger than the
      average female wolf, with one or two scars marring the otherwise clean 
      pelt.

Jean turns so she can face Scar while still examining the Caern. "It was
      stronger once?"

Scar glances over at Signe, then turns back to Jean. He indicates the
      affirmative. Very much stronger. But it was drained and had to be born 
      anew. And then it was taken by the Enemy and nearly defiled. It is... 
      scarred. But. It survives.

Defiant-Storm settles to the ground with a slight grunt and licks her muzzle.
      Like most of us, she comments idly.

Jean gives Defiant-Storm an assessing look, but then nods to Scar. Some of her
      armor seems to be being pulled back into place, now that the first blush 
      of newness is wearing off. She does sigh, though. "It's better than I'm 
      used to. Which is 'rare'," she says with a smile. "Still. Makes me 
      wonder."

Scar looks questioningly at Jean. Wonder?

Defiant-Storm mimics Scar's look, again. The Walker and Get could be bookends
      for this conversation.

Jean lets out another easy sigh, and crosses her arms over her chest, since her
      coat is over on the other side. "Spirits. If...if we do pack. Totems. 
      I've never actually been part of a Sept with a Caern before."

Defiant-Storm's ears splay with mild surprise. So, you've never been in a place
      of real power? The Get's eyes convey a sense of regret for the theurge, 
      though it's mild. The talk of spirits has her thoughtful, but she does 
      not yet offer any ideas.

Scar lifts his muzzle. He looks at Defiant Storm, and then at Jean. His manner
      turns pensive. I can think of many totems that would not be suitable. I 
      cannot decide on one that necessarily _would_.

Defiant-Storm looks to Scar when she comments, I'm not sure one exists that
      would take all of us, together.

Scar adds -- a touch wryly -- that he has, in past, packed under Wolverine and
      Cockroach. Very different packs, those, from each other.

Jean is lost in thought momentarily, but then shakes her head at Defiant-Storm.
      "No, I've been to a Caern. But it was always...-borrowed-," she says, 
      mouth twisting in distaste. Then shakes her head. "I think it'd depend on 
      what we want to do. Our purpose, in the city."

Scar answers the Get with a snort. Oh, several _would_, full moon, but would
      _they_ fit _us_? Rat isn't picky. Neither is -- (with a thin noise of 
      distaste) -- Dog.

He gets up, bulking into Hispo form and pacing slightly.

Defiant-Storm's ears splay, and the lips of her muzzle pull back to show her
      teeth briefly. She shakes out her ruff and snorts.

Defiant-Storm answers the idea about a purpose by being blunt. I simply want a
      chance to use my claws.

Jean grins at Defiant-Storm's answer, then watches Scar pace with a touch of
      worry. "Well. Maybe," she says slowly, "just maybe, it could be about 
      using your claws wisely. Where they'll do the most damage. Be the most 
      effective?" she posits.

Scar shakes his ruff. ~The simplest purpose,~ he snerls out in the Jackal's
      grating tones. ~Take a territory and protect it. Some place downtown 
      would provide the most opportunity for... cleansing.~ He looks at Jean. 
      ~And reclaiming.~

Defiant-Storm's ear twitches in response to Jean's comment, a moment of
      irritability at the possible insult contained in the Shadow Lord's words. 
      Still, she looks thoughtful.

Jean doesn't seem to be implying insult by her tone or posture. But, given
      Signe's relationship with the Shadow Lords...who knows? She nods once at 
      Scar. "This Charlie to scout. Cutter and I to assess, Signe to lead the 
      attack, and you to run the Rite of Cleansing?"

Scar considers this a moment before agreeing. ~Though that's a Rite I'll need
      to learn.~ He snorts with curt fat-moon amusement. ~All we need is a 
      Galliard, then, to tell the tale afterward.~

Defiant-Storm snorts, too, then. Her tail thumps the ground, but she does not
      argue with the dynamics Jean has laid out. It's a simple enough purpose, 
      she agrees.

"So..." Jean drawls out, "maybe if we just put the question to the Totems that
      way, something appropriate will show up?"

Defiant-Storm's glittering yellow eyes move from Scar to Jean, several times.
      You mean, just let any old spirit choose? The idea seems to upset the Get.

Scar folds massive haunches and sits down. ~Interesting idea...~ He looks at
      Defiant-Storm. ~No. We call, see who answers. If they're acceptable... 
      The Sept did the same after we'd gotten the caern back from the Spiral 
      Dancers.~

Defiant-Storm feels a little better, but it's clear the Get's still
      uncomfortable. She acknowledges the explanation with a chuff, but says 
      nothing more.

Jean nods to back Scar up, then adds, "We can always tell them no, Signe-rhya.
      If they don't fit."

Scar shoots a darkly amused look at Signe. ~And if something foul shows up, as
      happened with the Sept, we can kill it. Fair?~

Defiant-Storm snorts, teeth showing again. Yes, she says.