It is currently 08:58 Pacific Time on Thu Mar 11 2004.
Currently in Saint Claire, it is partially cloudy. The temperature is 32
degrees Fahrenheit (0 degrees Celsius). The wind is calm today. The
barometric pressure reading is 30.32 and falling, and the relative
humidity is 100 percent. The dewpoint is 32 degrees Fahrenheit (0 degrees
Celsius.)
Currently the moon is in the waning Gibbous Moon phase (66% full).
You travel west for a few miles, out of the foothills and into thicker foreset.
Bawn: Western Forest(#3018RA)
Tall Sitka spruce and sequoia crowd around and above you. Many of the trees are
old, their branches twisted into impossible shapes, trunks broad and
draped with lichen, mosses and creepers. Tendrils of moss hand down from
them like green spiderwebs, snaring the unwary with cold, ghostly
fingers. The patches of younger growth are dense and pale, needles tinged
with silver. Matted undergrowth huddles sullenly in the occasional small
clearings, clutching with thorns and burrs at the legs of those who would
pass. Deer seldom venture here, but the forest is full of rustlings, and
tiny glints from wary, watchful eyes.
The forest spreads out to the east, bounded on the west by Sunrise Road. From
farther to the west, one can occasionally hear the distant sounds of the
town of Kent's Crossing.
Contents:
Alicia
Dakota
Joshua
Obvious exits:
Highway 22 Overgrown Path Deer Path Sunrise Road Farmhouse Caern of the
Hidden Walk Creek Central Bawn Southern Bawn Northern Bawn
He may look like Heck, but that's an improvement. Sunken eyed and hollow,
Joshua quietly made his way through the Bawn, much cleaned up from the
last week. Someone forced him to shower, and the clothes where cleaned.
While the T-Shirt and Jeans where still on the verge of death, they where
free of the Alcohol and blood. He appears headed to the North-East, away
from the Farmhouse, but not to the Caern.
Dakota walks through the woods, chatting back and forth with Alicia. One hand
is shoved in the pocket of the coat she wears, despite the sunny day,
while the other idly gestures as she talks.
Guards-Flame pads along at her side, chuffing slightly in agreement at a few
things the Theurge speaks about. Her ears and tail are high as she
strides with a purpose through the bawn she protects, eyes gleaming
beneath the sunlight. As the Walker's familiar scent passes by her nose,
she pauses and growls, jerking her head around, searching, then spots him.
Atcen peers out from the undergrowth as Josh passes her brooding-place, noting
first him, and then the two Children of Gaia. Her ears flatten, and she
drops her head to her forepaws.
If Joshua notices either Gaian, he doesn't let it show. His shoulders slump
forward as he keeps along his way, seemingly oblivious to the pair. He
gives the same amount of acknowledgment to Atcen's existence.
Dakota follows her cousin's eyes over towards Joshua and frowns slightly,
though it fades away quickly into neutrality. "Josh." She calls out to
try and draw his attention, taking note of his cleaned up form, since she
hasn't seen him since dropping him off at the farm.
Guards-Flame rumbles loudly in her throat and chuffs towards him. Come here,
Walker. She growls, her posture and tone dominant as she holds her head
and tail up high, ears tilted towards him.
Atcen(#3738Pce)
This not-quite fully adult wolf bitch is a starved, unhealthy-looking beast,
too tall for her scant flesh. Her dry, unkempt pelt, light gray,
stretches tight over bone and muscle and sinew, showing clearly the jut
of ribs and spine and hip. Large paws, each toe tipped with a blunt,
yellowish claw, suggest that Atcen has yet more growing to do.
Within her long muzzle are needle-sharp fangs that have an unhealthy yellowish
hue, and from deep sockets within her lean wolven head burn pale blue
eyes, cold as the frost.
Atcen lifts her head again, then gets to her feet and skulks forward, circling
around to Josh's other side, opposite the Children of Gaia. The
mule-cub's attitude is cautious, curious, and extremely solemn.
"'m not a walker anymore. Just so you know." Joshua enscrew any form of
greeting, instead turning around with that low grumble. Apparently, he
was aware of the two. With a soft sigh, he slowly makes his way over to
the pair, face setting itself into a tired, neutral mask. "Hmm?"
Dakota furrows her brows slightly as she looks at Joshua. "So you had the
Rite?" She asks as her free hand goes into her pocket, hunching up her
shoulders slightly as she stands there.
Guards-Flame rumbles loudly in her throat. You are a Walker, until the proper
rituals have taken place. You are not yet ~Ronin~. She snaps her tail
about her haunches, lips peeling back from her teeth. If you wish to step
foot onto this Bawn, you will assist me for a full moon in helping me
tend and clean it, for the disgrace you left behind. These lands are not
going to be used as a dumping ground.
Joshua shakes his head. "The rite is for cutting all ties to the 'arou nation,
not just leaving a tribe. 'swhy it's a rite for punishment." He wrinkles
his nose once, tilting his down slightly. "That disgrace, if Rhya looked,
consisted of five bottles all in the same place. I already cleaned it up."
The fur along Atcen's neck and shoulders rises. She shifts her weight
restlessly, still watching.
Dakota narrows her eyes slightly at the word of Ronin and lets out a breath.
"Still, you had all of that here, in a hole you dug on the Bawn." This
she says with a slight grate to her voice. "It doesn't matter how little
or how much, you still made a mess of the Bawn. Mine aswell spit at
Gaia's feet while you're at it."
Guards-Flame growls louder in her throat as she flicks her ears, glancing up at
Dakota, then back towards Joshua, nodding her head in agreement. The Bawn
is not a camping ground. You do not pitch ~tents~ here, nor do you toss
your ~garbage~ or bring ~alcohol~ out here. If you also have no tribe,
then you are not a Garou, you are a cub. A lost cub who doesn't know his
place. You need to find your place and make amends with the roach wolves,
for it is your blood.
"I didn't dig the whole thing out." Joshua responds patiently to Dakota, or at
least as patient as he gets. "The hollow was there already. I only opened
it up enough that I could get in there." Slowly, he regards Alicia, "And
I left so I wouldn't have to do just that. I have nothing to apologize
for... I left so I wouldn't betray them or their ideals." He markedly
does not comment on the blood remark.
Dakota shakes her head slowly, "A hollow is natural. One as big as you made is
not. How long have you been out here in that hole, anyway?"
Atcen's ears skew cockeyed from each other in an expression of bemusement as
she listens.
Guards-Flame shakes her head with a loud snort. One full moon of clean up duty.
Do not argue, or do not come out here. She rumbles, getting back to the
topic at hand.
Joshua pulls a hand out of his pocket, slowly rubbing his knuckles under his
eye. He looks openly Irate, so much so that he doesn't respond to either
of them.
Dakota snorts softly but says nothing further.
Atcen sneezes once and then sits down to scratch at her ribsy sides with a hind
paw.
Guards-Flame growls once more at the silence, ears flickering forward. Answer
me.
Joshua's jaw sets for a moment, head still declined. "I thought I saw you,
Rhya." He responds darkly. "But I wasn't aware you asked me a question."
Dakota bares her teeth in a human snarl, rumbling lowly in her throat as she
stares at Josh.
Atcen stops scratching herself and stands up again, her hackles rising once
more. The tension's infectuous, and she shows her teeth a bit herself.
Guards-Flame snarls loudly in her throat. One month of clean up duty, or do not
come out here at all. Got it? She says, making sure she stands before him
and that she gains eye contact.
Joshua doesn't meet Dakota's stare, or make eye contact with the Elder, his
chin instead pinning itself against his throat as he tilts it as far as
it goes. "Yes, Rhya. I understand perfectly."
Dakota relaxes only very slightly, jaws still set tightly together. Her fists
tighten, though unseen as they're still in her pockets.
Guards-Flame growls louder in her throat as her hackles rise, fur bristling
around her neck. Guards-The-Flame-Rhya. She corrects him, much like the
Alpha would. I do not think you understand. You do not show throat.
Atcen growls as well, then gapes her jaws, her tongue lolling out. Her teeth
remain bared, making the expression vicious rather than amiable. Even
hungry.
That gets a reaction out of Josh: he blinks, confusing quickly spreading across
his face. Almost timidly, he responds, "Uh... why would I show throat?
That'... that's surrender. Not submission. Does... does
Guards-the-Flame-Rhya Challenge me, then?"
Guards-Flame looks furious. Showing throat /is/ submission. I do not /need/ to
challenge you, because I out rank you.
"Humans surrender by hiding their throat and looking away." Dakota says slowly.
"Garou show their throat."
Joshua twists his head around quick enough, head tilted over his back after the
order, showing throat as asked.
Guards-Flame snorts once and settles back upon her haunches, chuffing to him
approvingly. She flickers her ears forward and glances around the bawn. I
will need help planting new seeds and saplings about the bawn, as well as
making sure weeds are pulled out from the ground. If you do not wish to
help, I will be annoyed, but not offended.
Dakota glances down to Alicia, letting out a breath. "I'm going on ahead to the
caern." She says, looking at Joshua once more before moving on past him.
Joshua slowly rolls his head to one side, still not making eye contact and
holding the throat exposed, as was requested. He seems anxious to be
anywhere but where he was, surrounded by the Gaians and the Mule. "I... I
will do this." He mumbles back from the odd position.
Atcen snorts loudly and lies down to chew at an itch on one forepaw.
Guards-Flame grunts slightly and nods towards him. Good. She says, relaxing
somewhat as she thinks, then glances over towards Dakota as she speaks.
Her tail flicks once, bobbing her head in acknowledgement. Speak to the
spirits wisely, Rift-Healer.
Dakota mutters back something like 'she will' to her Elder as she moves off
through the woods and eventually out of sight.
Dakota enters the Caern.
Joshua doesn't add anything as Dakota leaves, remaining still in his place.
Guards-Flame glances up at the Ahroun for a moment and chuffs at him curiously
for a moment, before starting on a path towards the farmhouse again. I
will find you in the morning and give you a routine. We will make this
fun, Walker Ahroun.
Joshua straiten his head and neck back out, pursing his lips and saying nothing
in responce, but nodding slightly. You can read the disapproval, and
almost near-sadness at the reference to the tribe, but he clamps down his
jaw tightly, not correcting her.
Atcen lifts her head to look steadily at Joshua. If you are not a Glass Walker
and are not a Ronin, what _are_ you?
Joshua turns around to look at the Mule, face dropping from it's neutral mask.
"Tribeless." He repeats irate, avoiding the word Ronin. He looks over
Atcen slightly, "Tribeless, but Cliath." He adds darkly.
Atcen pushes to her feet and shifts to match forms with him, her chin jutted
out. "I do not think Cliath means _anything_ if you have no _tribe_," she
states, folding her arms across her chest. "What tribe will you join?"
"It means I am Garou. Adult. As opposed to an untested Cub." He jibes back,
taking a step forward. "And what tribes I choose to petition... is my own
business." One might infer from his voice that he hadn't even started
with that...
Atcen snorts. "No tribe means Ronin and Ronin means _nothing_." Her pale eyes
narrow calculatingly as she unfolds her arms. Holding her ground, she
looks cunning. "You have not even _started_, I think."
"No. No rite of Passage means cub and -cub- means nothing." Josh probably
doesn't look intimidating in the least, his clothing near falling apart
on him. But he's definitly leaning on the rank lever there, and hard.
"You are not even Garou yet. I do not have to answer to you."
Atcen smirks. Her clothes aren't in much better shape, though they're as clean
as one can get them without poisonous chemically detergents. "_I_ have a
_tribe_, and _my_ elder _wants_ me. Jos-wa-_rhya_." The way she tacks on
the honorific is not entirely polite, but it's not out-and-out rude or
mocking, either.
"The Glass Walker Elder is Urrah." Josh spits out, tongue licking the back of
his teeth. He seems sated with the admission of rank from Atcen, posture
changing to something less aggressive. "The whole tribe is. But... I do
not have to explain myself to you. At all."
Atcen shrugs. "Will have to explain to _someone_... sometime," she says,
turning to move off toward the caern. She looks back at him, frowning,
something other than enmity in her gaunt face. "Cannot be no-tribe," she
tells him somberly. "Even stupid mule cub like me knows that. Even urrah
is better than no-tribe."
Joshua looks very badly like he wants to Back-hand the Mule, brow twitching
slightly. "No." He states adamantly. "Cities bear the the End Times
forward. To be City corrupt is to openly embrace what brings the end
times." He folds his arms, lifting his chin in one of those 'even if you
don't agree, agree' postures. Touchy issue?
Atcen shrugs again, unwilling to argue the point, and turns her back on him to
head toward the caern.
Joshua snorts once, shaking his head. He bends and Warps down, lupus on the
ground. His nose twists slightly, before he begins heading out again. He
heads east, this time, the white Ahroun aimed for someplace past the
Caern.
[...]
Among the Steam Vents
The ground here is hard and rocky and barren, unlike the greener swath visible
through the steam to the north. Small, narrow cracks network the area,
steam trickling out of many of them, probably at least partly fed from
the stream flowing underground from the east. The warm circulating steam
fills the air around here, warming those nearby, leaving a thin sheen of
dampness on almost everything around, and making the rocky ground that
much more slippery. Sometimes, a blast of hot steam bursts up from some
of the cracks, making the temperature uncomfortably hot an releasing a
strong odor of minerals with sulpher undertone.
The old growth forest surrounding the caern has been hewn down out to 150',
leaving only stumps as tombstones for the mighty trees that once
sheltered the caern. The ground has a light covering of grasses and weeds
and wildflowers and occasional sapling trees, but nothing larger than
that.
Through the mists, you can see the caern circling towards the walls of the
crevice, north towards the rocky slab; east, you can hear the waterfall;
the caern's center lies to the northeast. The valley continues towards
the southwest.
Atcen scrambles down into the caern, grimacing at the heat coming off the steam
vents, and quickly makes her way into the center -- nearly running. Her
bare feet slip on the wet rock, but the metis cub catches herself in time
and escapes the heat.
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.
Contents:
Firewatcher
Rifthealer
Guards-Flame
Obvious exits:
Rock Slab Windy Spot WaterFall Steam Vents
Guards-Flame tilts her head slightly as she watches the Alpha grow angry. She
leans over and touches her nose gently to the Fianna's shoulder, giving
her a soft whuff. Then, Stag it is. As the Mule makes her way towards
them, she raises up her head and stares bemusedly as a wolf can.
Rifthealer has always liked Stag, and also likes Raven. She squints her eyes
happily, tail continuing to slowly wag. That is, until Atcen comes into
the caern. She grows quickly serious as the mule's seeming hurried pace,
her head tilting quizically and wondering if something is wrong.
Firewatcher is partially mollified by Guards-Flame's show of sympathy, but her
ears fly forward at Atcen's rushed entrance. She tenses, waiting to see
if there is reason for it.
Atcen pulls herself to a halt, blinking, and mumbles an apology as she backs
off a few steps. Even the short run through the steam is, it seems,
nothing the odd Metis finds comfortable, and there doesn't seem to be any
other urgent trouble.
At a glance, this is a gaunt Native American girl, mid-teens, a few inches over
five and a half feet tall, with thick, straight black hair that's been
cropped roughly and boyishly short, probably with a knife. Large hands
and feet suggest that she's not quite finished growing.
She's too thin to be pretty, hollow-cheeked and starved. Her teeth have an
unhealthy yellowish hue and there's a pallor to the coppery complexion.
The unkempt hair is dry and looks like it would tangle easily if it
weren't so short. Underneath thick black lashes lurk pale blue eyes, cold
as winter.
Atcen's bony form is clothed in a ripped t-shirt that's a dingy shade of white
and a pair of faded and torn blue jeans. Both items of clothing have old
bloodstains, the front of the shirt especially. Her feet are bare.
Guards-Flame raises up her ears slowly, then chortles quietly with a shake of
her head, glancing back to the others. She chuffs softly.
Rifthealer relaxes and lets out a soft huff of breath. She turns to regard the
other wolf-formed Garou. She is going to go and find food. She is hungry.
The Theurge gets up onto all four paws and gives her dark coat a healthy
shake.
Firewatcher seems torn between amusement and annoyance at Atcen, but then
reaches out tenatively to nose Rifthealer. I am as well. I will speak to
Balancer to let her know she should speak with you as well.
Atcen bites her lower lip in response to Alicia's amusement and looks sullen.
Pushing her hands into her pockets, she moves off toward the place of
winds.
In the Swirling Wind
The rugged walls of the canyon grow narrower to the northeast, forcing the
gusts of winds that it catches to rush down into this small clearing.
Here the breezes meet with the drifting mists off the waterfall's spray,
becoming swirling bits of haze that dance and whirl like merry ghosts.
Occasionally, the canyon's rim pushes swifter air into the caern,
breaking up the dance and sending the mists, scattered, back to their
source.
The old growth forest surrounding the caern has been hewn down out to 150',
leaving only stumps as tombstones for the mighty trees that once
sheltered the caern. The ground has a light covering of grasses and weeds
and wildflowers and occasional sapling trees, but nothing larger than
that.
Swirling in the area is some of the mist sprayed up by the waterfall to the
south. To the west, a rock slab juts out of the ground at an angle. the
caern's center is to the southwest; the rest of the valley extends
northeast, toward the mountains.
Obvious exits:
WaterFall Center Rocky Slab Up the Valley
At the center, Guards-Flame rises up to her paws and nods her head, giving
Firewatcher's muzzle a lick, then bounds off towards the wind, crouching
low to the ground, stalking after the Mule playfully.
Atcen glances back at the Gaian elder, her frown deepening; she doesn't look to
be in the mood for play.
At the center, Rifthealer flicks her tail up over her back, lowering her chest
to the ground in a long stretch. Her jaws split wide in a yawn, tongue
curling before her maw snaps back shut. Hopping back up onto her paws,
she turns her nose into the wind, and with a short bark offers her
parting and trots off to find lunch.
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