It is currently 18:16 Pacific Time on Mon Apr 5 2004.
Currently in Saint Claire, it is partly sunny. The temperature is 58 degrees
Fahrenheit (14 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from
variable directions at 3 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 30.08
and falling, and the relative humidity is 55 percent. The dewpoint is 42
degrees Fahrenheit (5 degrees Celsius.)
Currently the moon is in the waning Full Moon phase (95% full).
This leggy beast doesn't much resemble a wolf, though he does possess
many wolflike qualities. The deep-chested body is held tall on long legs
that end in oversized paws, and his bushy tail is perfectly lupine. His
scruffy pelt, primarily a dark sandy color, pales to ivory from throat to
groin, and he bears a dark, thick stripe of fur from the top of his skull
to the base of his bushy tail. Branches from the main stripe extend to
follow the curve of his ribs and cover most of his upper back.
The real disturbing bit is at the front, especially above the neck,
where the usually wolven features are subordinate to something that
mostly resembles a vampire bat. His ears are oversized and hairless, his
eyes are a fathomless black, and his snout is flattened and upturned,
almost piggish. The teeth within that snout are like those of a vampire
bat as well, especially the 'buck teeth', which are enlarged and pointy.
He seems, in fact, to have more teeth than is necessary, all of them thin
and needle-sharp.
The glyph-shaped scars on his chest and stomach are mostly obscured by
fur. An American Flag bandana is tied around his long neck.
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.
Wolf-Heart finally stands up, aware of the people arriving. The Lupus-formed
Ahroun carries himself forward into the Caern Proper, before sitting
himself down and waiting.
Firewatcher slips down from the northern lip of the valley, with Flash in tow.
It's probably a good thing she's leading the way, given his appearance in
lupus. When she reaches the center, she chuffs a general, tense greeting
to those assembled, then turns to the Stargazer. Without an elder, I will
stand for you. Do not make me regret this tonight.
Cutter smirks and eyes the new arrival. "Stargazer. Must be Flash FourLeg,
hunh?"
Flash does not pad so much as slink, his leggy form and tail held low and his
malformed muzzle pulled back into an omega's appeasing 'grin'. He
indicates the most submissive and meek assent to Firewatcher and crouches
down, huge ears flattened back against his skull.
From the steam vents, Leala and Natalie enter the caern. The stop to scan the
assembling crowd, and make their way over to a spot of grass. Leala
shoots a look towards Joshua, hoping to catch his eye, nodding if she
does.
Dale heads into the caern briskly, and upon finding an unoccupied stretch of
grass, sets down the smallish nylon rifle case he's brought and promptly
sheds his human shape to take the war-form: inducement enough for those
nearby to keep their distance.
Natalie's teeth pull back at the sight of the metis following Firewatcher. Her
hands slip out of her jacket pockets and into loose fists; she shifts her
weight onto her toes and only reluctantly back again. Fists stretch open
and close almost absently as she continues to watch the Stargazer.
Flash rather belatedly answers Cutter's smirk and lifts an ear. He is, he
agrees, the Lowest-of-Low, the Eater-of-Shit, Gaia's Mistake. The
Stargazer Ragabash. Flat black eyes glance around, and a long, pointed
red tongue lolls out of the flatted maw; he pants quickly, nervously.
Signe's intense dark eyes fix on the Stargazer beside Megan. They narrow narrow
dangerously while studying him, the result a disappointed and even
slightly disgusted scowl.
"Never woulda guessed you were a mule," Cutter says, almost keeping a straight
face. "Struck me as such an upright and outstanding soul."
The grey/brown lupine form of Karl, Finds-The-Path stalks into the clearing
from the treeline, seating itself calmly and visually absorbing those
present, particularly the one that seems to be the subject of ridicule.
After making his way carefully into the caern, Isaac trots into the center. In
his mouth he carries both a belt, which is not quite long enough to trip
him, and a black cowboy hat, which he is careful not to crush, but which
is now covered in slobber. Shifting back to homid, he removes the items
from his mouth and puts them back in their proper places.
Flash looks bemused at Cutter for a second, then 'grins' again, the oversized
ears splaying flat. You must have been distracted that day, great one.
Leala gives Flash a surprised glance, clearly not aware that he was a metis.
Such a fact warrants only one suprised glance and no comment, however.
Firewatcher glances around those gathered, then peels her lips back in a silent
snarl of irritation. She then finds Natalie in the crowd, and chuffs
sharply to get her attention. Holds-the-Line, will you call to open the
Moot for us?
Natalie's attention is yanked away from the Stargazer at the Alpha's request.
"...Uh... Of course." Surprise slips away as she shifts - not into lupus,
but hispo, her head tilting back as she offers her howl to the sky.
From Center of the Caern, Holds-the-Line can be heard to howl, ~(with Call of
the Wyld) We gather in Moot! Come all of you to meet in the Caern of the
Hidden Walk!~
Jacinta picks her barefoot way carefully down from the rim above. She waits
just at the edge and is followed shortly by the two Wendigo cubs.
Together, the three approach the center of the caern. The lupus formed
metis seems nervous. Turtle, last in the line, is wide eyed with wonder.
Jacinta stops to place a hand on the ruff of the newest cub, reassuring.
Griphus arrives just as the moot is to begin, a pack of three plus two. The
Fianna heads toward the caern's center at a steady lope, followed
somewhat closely by the black-coated Shadow. Olga lumbers not far behind
them in glabro, the bright orange of her bag, slung over one large
shoulder, difficult to miss. At her side, is the cub Joey, looking rather
small and timid--especially beside the elder Gnawer. Helen comes last, in
homid, skipping her way down the path. The five skirt the crowd and find
a spot somewhere near the large, jutting rock, gradually turning
attention toward Firewatcher and Natalie.
As the Galliard and the fool launches into the first law of the litany, the
gathered Garou growl and shout back at the Ragabash, defending the litany
viciously. Once the crowd calms as well as it can be, Guards-The-Flame
rumbles out towards the New Moon. ~As long as we have lived, one of the
most important rules that we follow is to Combat the Wyrm wherever it
dwells and breeds.~ She paces through the mist, eyes narrowing
thoughtfully.
Shakes-Earth, who has been here all this time, of course, smiles and spreads
his arms out in a wide shrug, also pacing through the mists and keeping
his gaze fixed on Guards-the-Flame. ~Eh, you don't have to fight it
everywhere,~ he contends. ~You just have to fight it where it's
convenient, and let the rest work itself out.~
Flash is conspicuously silent during the Calling, his belly and chest pressed
against the ground. He studies the Moot Fool intently and lifts his head
often to look about, taking in the other Garou and their responses.
Wildfire arrives a few minutes after the opening howl is sounded. He leaps down
into the Caern proper by the edge of the waterfall, in crinos form,
landing solidly, before lumbering into the center without much regard to
anyone except the Sept's Alpha, to whom he gives only a cursory glance.
Resting on one shoulder is Gebirgsteiler, a double-headed axe sized for a
crinos seen plenty of time in his company, and in his free hand is a
section of a 4*4 slab, one end of it wrapped in razor wire. He takes is
place in the crowd gathered.
Isaac crouches, one hand lifted to keep his hat firmly on his head. He shouts
out to Anthony, "Bad is bad. Make the bad things all go away!"
Firewatcher acknowledges Wildfire's arrival with a flattening of her ears for
his showy arrival, then shifts up into hispo as the Calling begins.
~Doing that leads to finding out the Wyrm has suddenly grown too large to
combat at all, and we lose even more ground.~
Taslyn comes into the Caern, walks over to a tree and leans against it, staying
off from everyone else, content to just watch.
Jacinta watches her cubs carefully, appraising their answers before shouting
her own.
Leala eyes her tribesmate with some amusement in her eyes. "I'd expect better
than that lazy attitude from you, Tony.
~Fighting only when it is safe or convenient is cowardice, pure and simple,~
pronounces Burns-the-Wyrm. The glare he leves at the Fool could probably
melt glass.
Atcen barks out her derision with enthusiasm. Coward! Lazy! A hunter seeks out
the prey! Not expect the prey to come to die!
Shadow snarls from her spot near Griphus. One does not let the rest work itself
out. Gaia did not make us to be easy or convenient.
Wolf-Heart picks himself up, growling out his own responce: Coward! Wyrm will
not kill itself! Fight it everywhere!
Holds-the-Line slowly sits, her eyes not leaving the Fool but remaining silent
for now.
Turtle flattens her ears, glancing at Atcen. They come alert again as others
yell their insults. The newest Wendigo cub is content to watch the
calling, and the cajoling of the fool, unwilling to dabble in the yelling
herself just yet.
Atcen leans over and nudges Turtle. You're suppose to yell at him for being
stupid. Go on, it's fun!
Jacinta bends down, whispering to Turtle. When she rises, she shouts toward
Anthony, a hand raised to her cheek to help her voice carry. "The Horned
Serpent will not sit idle. We must take the war to him!"
~Respect the territory of another.~ Guards-The-Flame says in a loud growl as
she passes through the thin tendrils of mist, nostrils flaring slightly.
The fur on the back of her neck rises upwards as she awaits for the other
to rebuttal her. ~Territory is important to our people, and the litany
and it shall be upheld.~
Shakes-Earth casually waves down this point of the Litany as well, glancing
around at the others gathered for a moment. ~Who cares about territory?
You should just be able to go wherever you want, do whatever you want;
it's not like they need all that territory anyway."
Isaac half-rises and then falls forward to lean on his free hand. "Take take
take! Good to smell where someone else lives! Good to be nice and ask!"
As grave as Shakes-Earth is casual, Burns-the-Wyrm intones, ~Guarding territory
is a service to Gaia. Disrespect to others' territory is an insult to
Her.~
Taslyn looks up and watches and looks at the fool, "If territory isn't
important... Then why do I see you around all the time?" She gives a wink
and leans back against the tree.
Sidhefuil howls shrilly, then barks out at the Fool that that attitude is the
best way to get your face chewed off. Tribes and packs and septs have
sacred spaces, which like rank must be acknowledged and respected.
Flash abruptly bounces to his feet, springing up into his birth form with the
kind of rageless ease that only a halfbreed freak can manage. He bares
too-many needly teeth in a gruesome grin. ~I'll remember you said that
when I go over and piss in your bed, huh? Or on your coffee. Or, oh oh
oh, ask the Wendigo how they feel about that kind of disrespect!~
Home is where the heart is, Pathfinder calls. Respect the Territory of Another.
Firewatcher's ears flatten against her skull. ~The pack protects and cares for
their land, and we should respect *that*, their work that they do, their
blood that they shed.~
Holds-the-Line rises from her haunches. ~Do not need territory? As soon say we
do not need tribe, or sept, or pack! Territory is as much a part of what
we are as -who- we are.~
Olga sits on the ground, stretched out comfortable in her jacket and rolling
her shoulders from side to side. She looks a few times like she's about
to shout back a rejoinder at the Fool, but each time she wipes away her
words and whispers something in Joey's ears, gesticulating around.
"Without territory," she suddenly shouts out at Shakes-Earth, "we have no
responsibility. Without responsibility, we're not Garou." Though there's
tension in it, there's little intensity, it's as much a lesson for the
Cub as anything.
Wildfire points the razor-wired end of his 4*4 at the Fool. ~Come on over to my
yard unannounced! PLEASE!~ The last word is half-snarled.
"Would you let just anyone walk into the Dominion and do as they please?
Territory benefits you as much as it benefits another. We all should
respect each other's territory," Leala shouts out towards the Ragabash.
Atcen bristles suddenly at the strange-looking Stargazer, then bares her teeth
and snarls at the Fool, really getting into the spirit of things. Even
stupid /humans/ know better than /you/.
Flash(#2873Pce)
This big, hairy, shaggy monster stands a little over nine feet tall
when fully erect, and though skinnier (and uglier) than others of his
kind, he's still built to kill, with plenty in the way of strength,
speed, and sharp teeth and claws. His scruffy pelt, primarily a dark
sandy color, pales to ivory from throat to groin, and he bears a dark,
thick stripe of fur from the top of his skull to the base of his bushy
tail. Branches from the main stripe extend to follow the curve of his
ribs and cover most of his upper back from shoulder to shoulder.
The real disturbing bit is above the neck, where the usually wolven
features are subordinate to something that mostly resembles a vampire
bat. His ears are oversized and hairless, his eyes are a fathomless
black, and his snout is flattened and upturned, almost piggish. The teeth
within that snout are like those of a vampire bat as well, especially the
'buck teeth', which are enlarged and pointy. He seems, in fact, to have
more teeth than is necessary, all of them thin and needle-sharp.
The glyph-shaped scars on his chest and stomach are mostly obscured by
fur. An American Flag bandana is tied around his long neck.
Jacinta bristles visibly. "Stupid Qussaq. Respect what is claimed by another.
Cause no wars by forgetting the litany."
Turtle watches Atcen, the others, and then looks at Jacinta. the cub slips out
of lupus and up into the form of war. ~No good can come from running
roughshod over others.~ Not the greatest effort, but she looks at Jactina
just to make sure she did nothing out and out wrong.
Atcen looks up at Turtle and wags her tail happily, her tongue lolling.
Jacinta nods her approval at Turtles first effort, but the tension around her
eyes speaks to her true feelings about this particular law.
Shaking her head, the Elder Child of Gaia stares at the Fool once more with a
pair of intense eyes, growling towards him after the pair trade bouts
three more times. She can taste the rage in the air from those gathered,
keeping her own in check. ~In the spoils of war, it is to be known that
the First Share of the Kill goes to the greatest in station, so the
litany speaks~
Shakes-Earth glances back over his shoulder at the participants, then back to
the Galliard, clearing his throat before continuing his battery of
complaints. ~Who cares about the greatest of station?~ he replies,
rolling his eyes exaggeratedly at the sky. ~What if they didn't do
anything? Maybe they just sat back and let you do all the work and now
they want a piece.~
Cutter, as one of the greater in station, sniffs disdainfully. "Trust me. They
did something." he says simply.
Firewatcher does deliberately not reply to this arguement, but seems to radiate
tension from the effects of the moon.
~Honor those who lead,~ growls Burns-the-Wyrm, his white-hot glare still fixed
on the Fool -- as if he could intimidate Shakes-Earth from the office.
Shadow chuffs sharply. Those who are above us in station earned renown from the
Sept to get there. They -did- earn it. And as they have proven their
worthiness, they deserve rewards for the service they have given to our
War.
Isaac again attempts to stand up. This time he manages, though his balance is
somewhat awkward and his legs are spread shoulder width or more. "They're
Older! They know more! Make them good stuff. They do more good stuff!"
Signe snarls out an answer, ~Did nothing? Who Rited your sorry ass? Who
protected you when you didn't know your tail from your tooth? Who taught
you how to take down that kill, fool?~
Seeker pads into the center of the caern, glancing at Jamethon and Firewatcher
as he does. He sits in the center and listens quietly to the calls and
responses.
Wolf-Heart shifts up to Hispo, the White Ahroun switching to the mothers
tongue. ~You would have us fight over trinkets, fool.~ He growls out.
~And they do not hand out rank freely. Rank is earned! Respect dominance!
Or next time, they not lead you to victory and spoils of war.~
Rags snarls a frothy reply to the fool ~Withhold their share and they shall
take it out of your hide.~
Flash says, ~And, besides, does anyone really want to eat after /I/ have taken
a bite out of things?~ His flattened muzzle opens wide, showing off too
many needly teeth, and he lolls out the long, red, pointed, slobbery
tongue, leering.
"Who are /you/ to decide what another's service is worth? Especially another
who is greater in rank," Leala says, raising her eyebrows.
By the waterfall, Jamethon stands by the Waterfall, but the arrival of Seeker,
whom he was waiting for, is noticed and answered with a strong nod.
~There is more to doing than what is obvious,~ Holds-the-Line growls. ~Just
because you have not seen the work that has been done does not mean it
has not been done. Do you think everything must be announced to be
noticed?~
Wildfire snarls, ~If you think you are more worthy, then come and get it!~
Olga's gaze steals over to Jacinta and her Cubs, before her attention is
returned to her own. She slides away from her and bellows, "To the
greatest goes the greatest. It's simple. Know your place, and take what
comes to you."
Jacinta again crouches to touch the ruff of each cub and then calls out,
"Elders brought you into the world, teach you, and give you life. Respect
them and give them their due."
Atcen vocalizes agreement with Jacinta. Respect the elders, yes!
~Do not sufer thy people to tend thy sickness~ The Child of Gaia speaks as she
stares off into the crowd of Garou. As she speaks these words, she is
curious of how the fool will react, and how the Garou will counter.
Shakes-Earth rubs his nose thoughtfully at this one, now, considering this
point for a long while before offering a retort. ~Well, why not?~ is his
simple reply. ~Wouldn't you want someone to 'tend thy sickness'?~
Firewatcher snarls. ~Not when it takes attention from the War. When it takes
resources better put to use helping one who may get better to fight
again.~
Isaac growls wordlessly.
Holds-the-Line's answer is swift. ~Not if taking care of -me- means that the
enemy is untouched!~
Narrow-eyed, Burns-the-Wyrm snarls back, ~If you are too sick or injured to
join us in battle, then you do us no favors by burdening us with your
care.~
By the waterfall, Fights-For-Hope growls out, offering to the fool, ~If I can
no longer serve here in the Realm! Then with speed to the Battleground
for me, where I may continue the fight!~
Flash's oversizes ears turn backwards. Suddenly, his glare turns to the
Galliard calling the Litany, and he looks affronted. ~Do not suffer thy
people to tend to thy sickness in DEATH. Sickness in DEATH, there is a
DIFFERENCE between being wounded and being too fucking infirm to go on!~
Then he turns to the Fool and makes a dismissive gesture. ~And even a
cowardly scum-bastard like me knows how not to burden others with his
shortcomings.~
Leala says simply. "The fight is greater than any single Garou. What is best
for Gaia is what should be done." She adds, "And if that means letting
one die to continue the war, so be it."
Cutter nods sagely. "The needs of the many. Outweigh the needs of the few. Or
the one." he says quietly.
~Because we are too busy fighting a war to deal with your dying tail, Fool!~
Keeps the Wolf rumbles back, not really into the calling. ~Go back to the
war! We have no time to take care of the dead!.~
Cutter waggles his ears.
Flash's big ears catch Cutter's remark, and he turns to give the Shadow Lord a
big grin and a Vulcan salute.
The last three laws of the Garou are completed much the same, with the Child of
Gaia calling out the litany and the Fool turning its nose up at them.
When the last Garou finally shouts, Guards-The-Flame turns her attention
towards the Alpha and nods, stepping out of the vents and taking her
place once more.
Jacinta scowls. "I will not care for you when there are greater battles to
fight. If you cannot be healed and care for yourself, take yourself to
Grandmother and allow us to fight the Horned Serpent with our full
strength!"
Shakes-Earth as well retreats back to the group, shifting down to his breed
form and finding a place to sit.
Atcen sits down, panting and still keyed up and excited over the Calling and
the Fool. She's lost her nervousness and is as eager as a kid at the
circus.
By the waterfall, Fights-For-Hope, who bears the healing ends of semi-recent
claw wounds about his side and a set of fresh scars on the top of his
head, steps closer to the water near which he has been standing silently.
He kneels and reaches down into the water with both arms. While his arms
are in the water the Gatekeeper takes on the crinos form. This done, he
stands and in his hands is gripped a large mirror, square with a thin
glass rim, it gives off a faint white glow. The mirror reflects no
earthly image, instead within, all who can see; see a swirling white
mass, like the turbulent wisps of clouds surrounding the top of a
mountain spire. Holding the mirror high, Jamethon speaks with clear and
loud voice that those who understand it can hear the voice of the spirits
in as well, ~Chimera! Lady of the mirror. We, the Hidden Walk, who call
you patron and guide, do summon you to join with us tonight at our moot.
Tonight while Luna shines full and reflects her light down upon the whole
of Gaia, shine /your/ light upon us! We call you, Lady of Hidden Wisdom.
We call you, Totem of the Ever-Changing Mirror! Heed our howl and
manifest!~ With this, the Gatekeeper twists his body back, and with great
strength and a loud grunt does he toss the mirror into the air at a
subtle angle carrying it towards the center of the Caern. Before it gets
there, James starts his powerful and welcoming howl. Once up high above
the center of the Caern, the Mirror stops in mid-air, and Jamethon's howl
continues beckoning for the others to join him in the welcoming of the
Lady.
Firewatcher adds her howl to the Get of Fenris's, for once, ignoring the tribal
rivalries, to welcome the opening of the sky and to call for the presence
of the caern totem.
Holds-the-Line's howl comes clear and strong. Welcome!
Wolf-Heart sits on his haunches, shifting back up to the smaller lupus form and
sends his own howl out with the Sept's.
Seeker lifts his muzzle to the sky in an unusually loud howl for him, joining
the rest of the sept's call to Chimera.
Emma, from beside Signe, shifts up into her warrior form and tips back her head
to join in the howl.
Finds-The-Path ripples up into Crinos and adds his howl to the chorus.
Isaac shifts into crinos, his new belt breaking around his increased girth, and
adds his voice to the howl.
Joey looks up at Olga with a curious and somewhat startled gaze.
Flash lets out two yips and then cries out in a high-pitched, eerily wavering
voice, stretched out to his full Crinos height, his head thrown back.
Leala shifts down to hispo and adds a long, deep howl to the others already
filling the caern.
Shadow glances at Griphus, but then shifts up into crinos and adds her howl to
the growing cacophany of sound.
Olga takes a step back, giving Joey a poke in the shoulder and a jerk of the
head down. She drops to all fours and sprouts fur, shifting into Lupus
and raising a howl to join the others'.
Atcen tips her muzzle skywards, adding her howl to the general chorus.
Rags adds his raspy, atonal howl to the cacophony.
Wildfire snarls at first, followed soon after by a booming howl that touches on
challenging Chimera to come and bare witness to this Sept's moot.
Signe blurs up from her glabro form into the one of war, her howl joining the
others. Resonant and proud, the call is born, lives, and dies. Then the
Get falls back down out of the form that keeps her rage too close to the
surface on such a bright moon.
By the waterfall, Soon, when many have offered their howls, the swirling mists
within the mirror dissipate away and bright rays of light come from
behind. With palpable substance, the first strikes James in the chest,
causing his howl to strengthen and grow that much louder. Beams of light
start shooting from the source that can now only be seen out of the
corner of your eye, for like the sun it is too bright to look at, yet it
seems to give off light only for the Garou, for the Caern remains only
lit by the moon. More and more Garou are struck by rays of silvery light
and each of them feels within themselves the presence of Chimera, each
feels the lady is with them and is warmed by the nearness of her Spirit.
Soon, with great speed more beams connect the source mirror with all the
Garou present as their howls all grow more intense. Once all are
connected, a single beam more comes with great speed and thunderous crack
that barely sounds over the howls, striking the ground at the Center and
illuminating it in a large circle several meters in diameter. Then do the
beams of light dim and the mirror appears to be gone, but the illuminated
center does remain shining forth from the ground a feint and silvery
light that makes those standing within it look and seem all the more
regal and powerful.
By the waterfall, Fights-For-Hope announces with a booming voice, ~The Inner
Sky is open! Chimera has come! Let us continue our moot.~
Joey follows the lead of the Gnawer beside her, shifting down through her
forms, until she is on all fours. A funny little howl tips up as her tail
slinks low against her, and she quickly pipes back down.
Aubrey slips in from the darkness, and the Philodox Get of Fenris follows
shortly after the Fianna in the same fashion. Both of them go in their
seperate directions. Aubrey slips off towards Taslyn, while Erika slips
quietly beside Wildfire. There is a breif smile which is shown on the
Fenrir's lips before she scowls briefly towards some of the other members
gathered.
Sidhefuil lets go a haunting howl-song that reverberates throughout the caern,
a suitable welcome for her totem of sept and pack. Upon finishing, she
slides an enigmatic wolf-grin to Olga and Helen and particular, before
breaking away from Griphus, and trotting fluidly up the slope of the
rocky slab.
For the vehemence of Burns-the-Wyrm's responses during the back-and-forth
between Caller and Fool, he's rather subdued as the Inner Sky is opened.
Perhaps he simply does not identify with Chimera.
Flash isn't anywhere near the shining circle, and he doesn't make a move toward
it, either. Panting, the metis sinks down onto his haunches, crouching in
the war form and grinning.
The Fianna's in crinos in a flash. Kneeling for a meditative moment, she rises
up, clutching the long, pale leg-bone of a deer, carved meticulously with
Garou glyphs--some swirling into intricate, Celtic knots. ~This bone
breaks, so that the meat and spirit of truth may be revealed.~ No sooner
spoken, the Philodox splits the thing in two with a resounding /snap/.
Leaping seemingly from the severed parts comes a wispy sphere of
silver-blue light; it hovers briefly over the Fianna's outstretched
talons, before darting up and behind her, serving as something of an eery
backlight. ~Those of you with announcements for the Sept, come forward to
speak.~
Fat-Ripper lifts herself back up into Glabro when the howling is done,
stretching long arms out in complete blissful satisfaction, and settling
herself in.
Wildfire keeps almost a constant low growl escaping from him while the moot is
running, heard best by those close by. He doesn't even turn to look at
Erika as she moves to stand by his side, instead just handing her the 4*4
wrapped in razor wire.
Holds-the-Line slips back into her birthform at the Cracking of the Bone. She
seems a bit dazed, and shakes her head as if trying to get water out of
her ears.
Isaac crouches again, pushing his hat back up onto his head. He frowns with a
lick of his nose as he notices the broken belt by his feet. Still, he
turns a wolfish grin toward the circle of light and through the cracking
of the bone, he continues to look toward the signs of the Lady of Mirrors
with pleased anticipation.
By the waterfall, Fights-For-Hope blurs down to the hipso and the massive
dire-wolfed Get makes his way over to his tribesmates.
Wolf-Heart settles his head back down, attention turned to the Philodox. The
wolf-formed guardian seems more than a tick nervous, even though the
attention is all on the Fianna at the moment. His tail is wrapped tight
against his backside, ear ticking on it's own accord.
Shadow remains in the war form and hunkers down besides Helen, Olga, and Joey
to watch Sidhefuil run the Cracking.
Fights-For-Hope arrives near Owen and the others, a growl that speaks of the
desire for bloodshed, eminating from his throat as he does.
Burns-The-Wyrm stoops, momentarily, to retrieve the contents of that
rifle-case: a crinos-sized axe fashioned of a blackened ironwood haft and
a knotwork-carved steel head. This in hand, he makes his way toward where
the Fianna Truthcatcher holds court, waiting to be recognized.
Finds-The-Path sits cross-legged, still in warform, resting his large clawed
mitts on his knees and swishing his large tail gently.
Seeker watches Fights-For-Hope closely but quietly.
Aubrey steps foward to speak to the sept. "I have two announcements that I
would like to share with you all tonight," The Fianna says in a clear
voice for all to hear. "The first is that I would like you all to know
that Trevor and Taslyn have succefully completed their totem quest and
are now members of my pack, the Crescent Wing. If anyone else is
interested in joining, please see me after the moot." The woman takes a
break before she changes the subject, "Secondly, a Bone Gnawer kin as
returned. As some of you remember Lancelot, he has lost his memory... he
is currently staing with me and I have alread spoken with Olga." Then the
Fianna slips back to allow someone else to step forward.
Flash's huge, hairless ears swivel about noticeably, like big radar dishes, and
his nostrils quiver as he sniff-sniffs the air.
Cutter whispers "Dude. You're creeping me out."
Signe comes forward next. She takes the bones in her glabro hand and holds them
abover her head. ~I am here to announce a new pack runs in the west side
of our city. We are Havoc, children of Wolverine, and if you have
business in the two block corridor of 13th to 15th Avenues, you had damn
well better check with us. Myself, Firedancer, Holds-The-Line, and the
two Furies--Artemis and Doc.~ With that, she hands the pieces of bone to
the Fianna and steps back.
Flash catches a whisper from Cutter and blinks down at the Shadow Lord. Then he
grins, showing off the front pointy buck teeth, and waggles his tongue in
a way that would make Gene Simmons green with envy.
Erika stares at the 4*4 wrapped in razor wire that is handed to her by her
elder. During the announcements, she lightly jabs him in the side with
her finger and then points at the weapon with an arc of her eyebrow.
Atcen finds herself distracted from the Cracking by the other metis again; she
stares openly at Flash, both intrigued and disturbed, then looks
questioningly at Jacinta.
Firewatcher listens to the announcements avidly, but not patiently. The moon is
doing its work and she shifts restlessly on her paws.
Olga gives Aubrey a brief nod of recognition at her story, listening closely to
all the news, watching each that approaches the centre. Occasionally she
looks around at Helen, Joey, and Shadow, eyes lingering a little with a
small smile on the Shadow Lord.
Shadow, noticing Olga's look, gives her a lupus-equivalent of a smile. On her
crinos muzzle, it's not very pretty to look at.
Seeker glances over at Flash and a lupine expression of revulsion passes over
him reflexively, but briefly. He then returns to listening quietly to the
announcements and waiting his turn.
Turtle cannot seem to find one thing in particular to look at. The Wendigo
cub's eyes are all over the crowd, and like Atcen's they find the metis
Stargazer on several occasions. Each time someone takes the bones, her
attention is drawn back to business, however.
Jacinta feels the cub's attention and turns to look at Atcen. Her eyebrows rise
and fall quickly in response to the unspoken questions, and then her
attention refocuses on the cracking. Her arms cross over her chest and
her fingers are tight on her biceps.
Wildfire steps up after Signe, peering at any for the briefest of times should
they stand in his way to the bones. Once there, he makes his
announcement. "Ich bin zuruckgekommen, wie es unser nicht. Ich habe
meinen eigenen Vetter in unsere Welt geholt und ihn durch sein Rite des
Durchganges gesehen. Ich bin ohne Satz oder Station, also gebe mich ich
Ihnen, um die zu unterrichten, die sie die Starke und die Elastizitat
benotigen, die, Sie in diesem Leben benotigen." The German sounds even
rougher than normal from a crinos. He then repeats, ~I have returned,
like it or not. I have brought my own cousin into our world and saw him
through his Rite of Passage. I am without pack or station, therefore give
myself to you, in order to teach that who need the strength and the
resiliency that you will need in this life.~ That done, after another
stare over the audience, he returns to his spot.
Michael who has been calmly beside Jacinta this whole time, honest, looks to
Turtle and pats her once on the head sternly. On his face he bears an
expression that warns to pay attention.
Firewatcher snarls openly at the German being spoken, ruff standing on end. But
she limits her display of irritation to that.
Flash's ears twist, tilting askew. When he cocks his head, he makes it go
almost completely sideways.
Fights-For-Hope's growling grows in volume as Owen speaks, his patients wearing
quite thin.
Burns-The-Wyrm steps forward to take the bones after Wildfire returns to his
spot, and turns to face the assembled sept. ~When I came to this place
two months ago, the Urrah called Olga gave me insult by showing me her
back,~ he begins. ~I took her insult as challenge, and called her to
account; she would neither show throat nor answer for herself with
claws.~ Pause. ~Where I am from I would be within my rights to kill her.
But I am an honorable Garou, and out of respect for your ways, have
sought guidance from your eldest Forseti. And it is on her counsel that I
stand before you.~ He shifts the bones to his one hand, and takes the
fetish-axe he carries in the other; the weapon's head is suddenly
wreathed in fire, and he levels it at Olga. ~I say you are a coward, and
before this sept I demand satisfaction. I give you this last chance to
acquit yourself with honor: bare your throat in submission to withdraw
your insult, or face me in a duel.~
Erika stands there, her gaze shifting from Fights-For-Hope to Wildfire. The
Philodox simply remains still and emotionless as she keeps the weapon at
her side.
Emma suddenly tenses, a soft growl filling her throat as Dale makes his
announcement. She looks to Olga briefly, before turning back upon the man
with the bone.
Atcen's hackles rise at the fire-headed axe, and the cold-bodied metis growls
quietly, edging closer to Turtle.
Firewatcher's demeanor sours further as *another* Get of Fenris takes the
mound, but some of the open hostility abates. She looks from
Burns-the-Wyrm to Olga, waiting to see her reaction.
Cutter's hand drifts instinctively toward his trench coat pocket.
Finds-The-Path rapidly ping-pongs his large fluffy head between Burns-The-Wyrm
and Fat-Ripper - shocked.
Still in hispo, Paints-Light's attention is drawn by the flaming axe. She
watches, sitting quietly on her haunches for Olga's reply.
Jacinta's arms pull tighter over her chest, a low growl settling deep in her
homid throat.
Natalie snorts twice at the challenge, her attention flicking between the Get
and the Gnawer, finally coming to rest, consideringly, on Burns-the-Wyrm.
Flash's ears perk upwards. He looks from Burns the Wyrm to Fat Ripper, and he
stares, gape-mawed and panting, at the Bone Gnawer.
Fights-For-Hope unleashes a powerful snarling growl at Mr. Burns' announcment.
His attention jerking between Olga and Dale several times.
Joey lets out an audible gasp, and turns a very serious shade of pale-grey. Her
breath comes quicker as she suddenly wonders if her new mentor is about
to be murdered before her eyes.
Wildfire's toothy grin, showing slightly after noting who's feathers just got
ruffled, grows even further at this challenge from Burns-the-Wyrm.
Wolf-Heart surges up to Crinos at the announcement, the before he restrains
himself. Barely. The Ahroun looks very badly like he wants to shout
something out before the Gnawer responds, head and body quivering... but
the gesture is directed at Fat-Ripper, not Dale.
Helen's eyes go wide at the confrontation between Burns-the-Wyrm and Olga,
glancing to her packmate. "What the..." she manages to murmur to herself,
her concerned glance still set on Olga.
Sidhefuil's ears lay back as her packmate is called out by the new Get. Black
lips peel back in a snarl.
Shadow glances at Olga, refraining from the overwhelming audible reaction to
the ahroun's challenge, eyeing the Bone Gnawer expectantly.
Turtle's ears come forward alertly, fascination in her eyes as she watches the
flaming axe.
Isaac skitters backward on all fours, away from the Bone Gnawer and the truth
catcher's position.
Olga flinches, tensing all over as Burns-the-Wyrm speaks and she slowly
realizes what it is he's talking about. She rests a hand on Joey for a
moment, before rising up to stand. She glares across at the Ahroun
accusing her for a moment, uncertain, mind racing, but try as she might
to meet his eyes her attention is drawn inevitably to the fire which
surrounds his axe. She finally answers. "You're patient," Olga says,
taking a brief hesitant step forward, before retreating the leg. "I don't
remember that night very well, was a long time ago, I been busy. I
remember you broke the Litany you just here defended. You entered the
Bawn without announcing yourself, you didn't respect another's territory,
and for calling you on that, I'll be buggered if I ever apologize. If
you'd done as you should this would've never happened. As to the rest of
it," she continues, trailing off a moment, voice diluting to a bare
mumble. With a jerk she lifts her throat to him, hands burying themselves
in her pockets so that they don't have to witness it. "You're bigger than
me," she admits. "And the spirits'll listen to you, too," she adds, with
a nod at his weapon. "I submit," she says, lowering her chin, and her
eyes. She raises them in a quick flash for a brief second to study his
response.
Firewatcher chuffs irritably at Olga's submission, but then looks back at
Burns-the-Wyrm, eyeing him hard for the theurge's counter-accusations.
~I had been accepted,~ answers Burns-the-Wyrm, and jerks his muzzle toward
Signe, to indicate by whom. ~I gave you my name anyway, and told you to
mind your tone.~ Olga's submission, though, appears to satisfy him; the
fire that sheathes the head of the fetish-axe recedes, and with dignity,
he returns the bones to the Truthcatcher and himself to his space in the
crowd.
Flash cocks his head to one side, then to the other, making a show of looking
confused. But as Burns the Wyrm speaks again, the Stargazer shrugs and
scratches absently at his furry belly.
Jacinta mutters, harsh but quiet words in a language as gutteral as the mother
tongue, but unrecognizable to those not of her Tribe.
When all others have stepped forward to give their news, the Truthcatcher
reclaims the bone fragments and lifts her voice in a carrying rumble,
~Soon after the last Sept moot, Cycle-Breaker, Fat-Ripper and myself
learned that we had been successful on our totem quest for Chimera, and
now run as the pack, Griphus. We seek knowledge and understanding of
things that are not at first clear, to undo any threat to our Caern
-before- it gets so far as the bawn. We understand riddle and dream, and
our territory lies on both banks, near Riverfront Drive on one side, near
the woods on the other.~ With a calm flicker of an ear, she shifts her
weight and, bones uplifted, becomes Master of the Challenge, tone taking
on an edge it lacked before. ~There are no new challenges for rank.
Brings-Bruffalo-Home departed to fulfill his challenge to
Storm-Singer-Rhya two moons ago, and had pledged to return Fostern or not
at all. He is still gone,~ the Philodox states, simply. ~Others of you
with news of completed challenges--of rank or office--come forward now.~
Fights-For-Hope rises to crinos now, looking for one in particular to step
forward with chin lifted slightly.
Signe lifts her chin at Burns-The-Wyrm's comment. It's an acknowledgment that
he speaks the truth. The Get Jarl had been looking between the two, hope
in her eyes--perhaps--that it might come to more than words. There's
vague disappointment when it doesn't.
Wolf-Heart's jaw works, the young Ahroun still quaking and glaring openly at
the Theurge. The Gnawer, for the moment, has his attention and now the
moot proper.
Wildfire is visibly upset by the lack of bloodshed. He was almost about to
drool with excitement at the prospect of bloodletting, but that gets
covered up with a quick wipe of the mouth with his free hand.
Natalie lets out a long breath, then strides forward to take the bone from
Sidhefuil, turns to face the assembled Garou with her head held high.
"I've got a two-parter here. For those of you who haven't met me yet, I
am Natalie Baker, called Holds-the-Line. I'm a Cliath Galliard of Those
Who Walk Among the Glass." Her head turns slightly toward Megan, just
enough to view the Alpha out of the corner of one eye, then back to
center. "When he who was once nameed Jack Salem announced he was leaving
St. Claire, I stepped forward to be our Elder. Leala Marx, also called
Paints-With-Light, Challenged me for the Rank some few days later. Her
Challenge was to determine what she would do with one Joshua, called
Wolf-Heart, and to defend her decision in front of three Elders. Though
she is not a Philodox, serving as Elder requires difficult decisions.
Signe, Jacinta, and Megan were those Elders, and judged her decision
acceptable. She is now the Elder of the Glass Walkers."
Shadow, on the other hand, seems relieved that Burns-the-Wyrm didn't take it to
violence, relaxing in her crouch besides Olga.
Olga remains standing, eyes fixed into the dirt, hands bunched into balls
inside her pockets. Sidhefuil's announcement of Griphus' formation brings
a small smile to her lips, but it dies almost as it sprouts. She is
definitely not in a good mood as she goes back towards Helen, Joey, and
Shadow, and she sits beside the Cub, she gets down a heavy swallow.
Fights-For-Hope nods his head in recognition of the named Glass Walker
challenge, but his eyes remained fixed elsewhere.
Erika looks up at Wildfire and growls lightly under her breath but remains
still at her elder's side. Her eyes turn towards Fights-for-Hope as she
studies him quietly.
Joey looks up to Olga with narrow, guarded eyes. The cub does not seem to be
much better off than the elder Gnawer woman now, and she moves to sit
down as well.
Cutter moves forward, taking the bones from Natalie's hands and turns to face
the assembled. "Two moons past, Fights for Hope approached me and
informed me that he felt he was ready to join the ranks of the Fostern."
He turns toward the mentioned Garou and dips his head. "After seeing his
actions in response to my challenge, I say that I agree and welcome him."
His hand shoots into his coat pocket and he pulls out a dark brown
bottle. With a gentle toss it arcs toward the new Fostern Theurge.
"Congratulations are due him."
Paints-Light gives a soft chuff and a solemn nod in Natalie's direction at the
announcement.
Seeker looks over to Fights-for-Hope, and give a short, high howl of
congratulations.
The look Burns-the-Wyrm lingers on Fights-for-Hope is more appraising than
congratulatory.
Erika's gaze follows to Cutter, then as he speaks her eyebrow lifts once again
with suprise. The Philodox dips her head quietly in recongnition to her
elder.
Flash yawns widely, long tongue snaking out and curling.
For a moment, the tension of the full moon and the anger that so naturally
lights Signe's eyes dissipates enough for her to make a wide, feral
smile. she, too, joins the others in offering James a raucous
congratulatory shout and cheer.
Finds-The-Path tilts his head back and emits a short, congratulatory howl.
His eyes following Cutter as the Shadow Lord steps forward, James stands regal
and tall, taking a half-step forward while growling his hand reach out
and snag the bottle from the air. A nod to Cutter given in answer to his
words and gift.
Natalie walks, stiff-legged, back to her Elder, falling into place just to the
left and a little behind the hispo. Her congratulations are perhaps a bit
perfunctory, but freely given nonetheless.
If Sidhefuil catches Fights-for-Hope eye, she gives him a sharp nod of approval.
Aubrey claps quietly and smiles proudly towards the Get of Fenris she has grown
to know in the sept. The Fianna then shifts to lupus and gives the
traditional howl of congratulations.
Firewatcher's ears flatten with displeasure, deepening as she snarls at
Aubrey's overt approval.
Jacinta has partially disconnected.
Shadow simply eyes the new fostern thoughtfully.
Jacinta's fingers press deeply into her arms, a tight frown on her face. She
bobs her head in a silent, and grudging congratulations to the new
Fostern.
Natalie kneels down beside Paints-Light, one fist balancing her against the
cool grass. She pitches her voice low, for the Ragabash's ears alone, but
keeps her eye on the proceedings.
Wildfire grabs his axe firmly with both ands, takes a careful aim at the new
philodox, and swings the flat of Gebirgsteiler's blade square at the
other Get's face.
Atcen flattens her ears as she looks up at Jacinta. Then, like her elder and
teacher, she simply dips her muzzle to the newly-raised Fostern.
Sheeaghan catches Firewatcher's gaze and flattens her ears slightly and looks
away from the Philodox quickly.
Paints-Light turns to give her tribesmate a confused look and chuffs something
softly.
Cutter looks rather startled and ghosts toward the rock spur.
The correct auspice being Fights-For-Hope's, theurge, his eyes grow wide and
the arm not holding the bottle comes up to take the brunt of the damage.
With an audiable thwack, Fights-For-Hope is driven back quite far, having
to take a small leap to bridge the distance he must move to stay on his
feet. Claws digging into the ground to stop and stabilize himself, his
broken arm mending himself as he walks, the newly Fosterned Get starts
stalking forward, vicious snarl on his face as he looks to Owen. When he
stands face to face with Owen, snarling in challenging fashion, he looks
as if about to start a duel to the death. After a few moments of this
however, he just embraces the other, and with a loud booming laugh that
sounds just... /Horrible/ coming from the Crinos' throat, releases his
tribesmate, ~You'll pay for that later you fuck, after we're done
reveling.~
Erika quietly snorts with amusement and steps aside to allow Jamethon room in
their party.
Isaac rolls backward, further out of the way, holding the now much too small
hat on his head with one massive hand.
Flash lifts his nose and snuffs the air. ~Is that testosterone I smell?~
Firewatcher rolls her eyes and, for the first time this evening, seems at least
vaguely amused instead of by the Get of Fenris. She then looks back at
Sidhefuil for the continuation of the Cracking.
Signe looks neither surprised by the brutish thumping of the Get, nor upset. In
fact, the Jarl wears a tiny little smirk. Otherwise she is motionless and
still, attentive to the proper goings on of the moot. Though her eyes
betray an intense impatience for the business to be done so the revel may
begin.
At this display, Burns-the-Wyrm turns a brows-raised look over toward Signe. He
keeps his counsel, though -- up until the point where Flash speaks. And
then that glass-melting glare returns, focused on the Stargazer.
Wildfire snorts. ~It's about fucking time, you turd-surfing ass-spelunker.~ He
grabs the theurge by the back of the neck with his free hand to drag him
into a hug, the turns to show off his fellow Get to the rest of the Sept.
~Do you see this? Do you?! Pay him his earned due!~ He howls
victoriously, making quite sure the Fianna get to see all this.
Natalie doesn't move from her spot to watch the pissing match. Without taking
her eyes from the two she continues her quiet murmuring.
Taslyn just raises a brow and gives a quiet chuckle. She stays leaned against
the tree and mutters, "I'd rather be known as a sheep fucker."
Flash catches Burns the Wyrm's glare and promptly goes into a cringe, hunkering
himself down as low as possible, huge ears flattening back, lips pulled
back in a submissive 'grin'. His bushy tail vanishes between his legs.
Paints-Light's eyes show a dawning clarity and she chuffs something softly back
to Natalie.
Seems to have gone from proud, to surprised, to well-humored, to appearing
annoyed in quite a short time. With a sudden movement, his right hand
shoots out and uppercuts the Get ahroun grabbing the back of his neck. ~I
changed my mind.~ He grunts after the blow and looks to all assembled,
~Let the moot continued. We revel tonight and I for one and eager to get
to it!~ (Jamethon)
Shadow leans down and mutters something to the three Garou near her, inaudible
past them. Her posture holds faint derision, whatever she says.
Seeker shifts to crinos and steps up to take the bones from Cutter, then pauses
to survey the sept, turning to see all the garou gathered. A stark
contrast to the fiery Get who have stood here, he is a picture of
tranquility as he speaks. ~Four nights ago, Jarred set a challenge forth
to find a replacement for him as Warder of this caern. I took the
challenge, answering his questions and defeating Fights-for-Hope in
combat, although he fought magnificently. Therefore, I am the new Warder
of the Caern of the Hidden Walk.~ His eye lingers on Fights-for-Hope
briefly before continuing. ~For those of you who do not know me, I am
Seeker, fostern ahroun of the Silent Striders and elder of that tribe. I
arrived at this caern over eight years ago and have served it loyally. My
tribe has a long and storied history with this caern, stretching back to
the first Alpha after its rebirth as the Wheel Renewed, the great
Horus-rhya. I only hope to serve this caern and sept in a fraction that
he and others such as Sepdet-rhya have. Similarly, I wish only to follow
in the footsteps of Warders past, another impressive line. If I live up
to the merest part of their legacy, I consider my job done. As for the
position, I have no further announcements to make about the state of the
caern or what changes may be made, as it is only four days since the
challenge. I will issue further announcements through the sept galliards.
If anyone has any questions, I will be on the bawn, in the sept or umbra.
Thank you.~
Crack! That was a good one. Wildfire takes a moment to rub his jaw before
giving Fights-For-Hope a good shake. ~Now, what you got in that bottle?
Better be worth a damn.~
Fights-For-Hope grunts in answer to the question from his now fellow Fostern,
~We're sure to find out later.~ As Seeker gets up and speaks, James once
more rivets his attention to the speaker. Raising his head slightly, the
Get theurge eyes Seeker in a fashion that all but speaks for his desire
to say something on the matter, but he holds his tongue.
Olga forces out a cracked tight smile at whatever Shadow had said, then returns
to her bitter analysis of the grass and dirt at her feet. Seeker's
announcement gets a few curious glances, but her thoughts are obviously
unhappily elsewhere.
Erika wiggles between the two Fosterns, jabbing them both in the side as she
watches the Strider speak. She looks up at Jamethon and gives him a quiet
congrats as she stands with her tribe.
Rags, momentarily diverted by the Gets' antics, shouts a word of approval for
Seeker.
Signe's restlessness, her urge to be on the hunt already, seethes from every
pore of the Get. Despite this, she keeps herself mostly still. The antics
of her tribesmates, therefore, gets on her nerves when it goes on a
little too overlong. Though James quiets and returns his attention to the
moot, she'd already made a move to point to both he and Owen, a warning
to shut up and pay attention--for now.
Fights-For-Hope looks to Erika who 'breaks-up' him and Owen with a bit of a
feral grin, a quick nod is given before he returns to watching the
proceedings.
Flash remains hunkered down for many minutes, his posture submissive. Unlike
Olga, he doesn't seem upset by his chastisement from Burns-the-Wyrm, and
indeed as Seeker continues to speak, he sits up a bit, his ears cocking
forward to catch the new Warder's words. But his tail remains tucked.
Seeker hands the bones back to the Truthcatcher and steps down, shifting back
to lupus as he does.
Natalie surges up from the grass when the bones are returned, catching the
Fianna's attention, then crosses to reclaim the bones. "I nearly forgot.
I wish to remind you all that St. Claire is -not- the woods. We face far
more enemies there in our day to day than you will out here. That said:
don't be stupid in the city. Don't shift unless you're /positive/ no one
is looking. Hell, don't even /talk/ about things using our terms for
them. The reason Thomas Walker had to change his name is because somehow
enemies - Russian mobsters, to be precise - learned of him. We don't know
how. We -do- know that they think - they thought - he was a demon. They
/also/," she pauses to gather wandering attention, "Used the term
'fomori' to describe him." She pauses again, letting her eyes drift over
the crowd. "While -most- of that threat is neutralized, the Walkers are
still trying to figure out where the leak started in the first place. If
you've got any questions, come and talk to us. ...Or Havoc," she adds,
nodding toward Signe. That said, she returns the bones to Sidhefuil and
retakes her spot in the crowd.
Isaac blinks as he stares at Seeker, and leans forward onto his clawed hands
sniffing in the direction of the Silent Strider. Giving up, he sits back
on his haunches and picks up the hat which has, once again, fallen off
his head. He replaces it, covering his left ear.
Taslyn watches Natalie and raises a brow. Her face changes from one of interest
to complete astonishment. She shakes her head some and sighs, leaning
back against her tree.
Wildfire is already straightening up when Signe gestures towards them. She gets
a short look in return before he refocuses on the proceedings at hand.
Paints-Light gives a loud chuff of approval at Natalie's words, nodding her
muzzle and thumping her tail in the grass. ~Keep your conversations
confined to a safehouse, please. Lest we have a veil breach," she adds.
After the Glass Walker's announcement, Sidhefuil seeks out the Sept Alpha in
the crowd and dips her muzzle toward her, extending the bones.
~Firewatcher-rhya.~
Firewatcher approaches the bones, still crackling with thinly surpressed rage,
taking one half in her mouth and putting them under a paw as she looks
out over those assembled. ~I will keep this one short. I wish to thank
all those tribes who heeded me last Moot, who sent their cubs on their
Rite of Passage before this one. The Sept welcomes Emma, Joshua, Cat,
Dakota, and Karl into the ranks of the cliaths. For those cubs who were
new at the last Moot, tribes should try to get them on their Rite of
Passage in the time before the next one, in a few full moon's time.~ She
pauses, then continues with, ~A reminder that this Moot is a *Garou*,
Moot, and that not all Garou speak the human tongues. Business should be
done in lupus, or the Mother Tongue. Tribes may quietly translate for
cubs, but adults should no better,~ she says with disapproval. ~And there
should be respect for the Bones during the Cracking.~ And here, she
levels a glance at the two male Get of Fenris Fostern. ~Lastly, a general
announcement, that the pack I have been forming should be Questing soon,
and we plan to claim territory in Kent Crossing.~ She then thrusts the
bones back at Layne.
Sidhefuil takes them, then drives them broken ends first into the ground. ~The
Cracking is ended. Let those new to this Sept come forward to make their
introductions, so that all may see and know them.~
Jacinta nudges her newest cub with a shoulder, face still tight and posture
controlled.
Burns-The-Wyrm, at this point, steps forward to call out his name: ~I am
Burns-the-Wyrm, Modi of the Fenrir. I have presented myself to Signe, and
been accepted among you by her.~
Olga looks up from her contemplation of the ground to cast eyes around at the
new Cliath, lingering a while on the two Gaians, and longer on Emma. She
listens to the rest of Firewatcher's words, and when the Gnawer's Alpha
announces that it's time for introductions, she dutifully rests a hand on
Joey's shoulder, and nods towards the centre of the Caern, leaning over
to mutter something low and encouraging to her.
Turtle looks hesitant and nervous as she takes her place in front of the entire
Sept. For this introduction she takes glabro before speaking. ~I am
"Holly Wynnecoop". Theurge, crescent moon of the Wendigo. They called me
Slow as a Turtle when I first showed up. Now, it's just Turtle." As
quickly as she can, she moves back to Jacinta's side.
Flash bounces to his feet and strides lankily up to the Truthcatcher. Turning
to face the gathering, he fingers the American flag bandana around his
neck and twists his malformed muzzle into a stupid-looking grin. ~Some of
you've met me. Others have been luckier. I am whatever you want to call
me, though 'Flash' and 'Shit-Eater' are the most common. I am, as you
see, the sterile, deformed child of lawbreakers, and a Ragabash of the
Stargazers... one too unworthy and cowardly to join the others in the
defense of our ancestral homeland.~ He bows slightly. ~I'm also available
to teach Rites, if you are kind enough to honor me with such a request,~
he adds, then resumes his place.
Wildfire does not seem in the least bit apologetic for being vocally and
physically proud of his tribemate's successful challenge. Instead, he
turns, looking for whomever is leading the revel tonight.
Fights-For-Hope does as well, turn away, eyes seeking the wyrm-foe.
Signe grits her teeth, eying the Stargazer with a mixture of revulsion and odd
curiosity. Since she can't make up her mind how to feel, she simply
settles back and returns to ignoring the mule's existence for now.
Rags, with a hard look, inspects Flash's appearance as though memorizing it for
a police line-up later. His eyes narrow during the Stargazer's rattling
off of words, then he looks thoughtful.
Isaac's ears pull forward, jaw dropping slightly during Flash's introduction.
The hat on his head twists slightly with the movement of the ear
underneath.
Joey gets a nudge from Olga and nervously pushes herself to her feet. She steps
forward much like the other cub just did, offering a very faint and timid
introduction. "Uh, Quiet-White-Face, Joey Copland by human name, uh.." A
moment of pause before she pushes through the rest with a struggle,
"Ragabash cub, of the Bone Gnawers..." Then she hurries back to Olga's
side, eyes glued to the forest floor.
Shadow notes each introduction as it comes forth, even showing no reaction to
Flash's appearance when it comes his time.
Taslyn gives Flash a bit of a grin and a shakes of her head, Joey gets a wink.
Flash gives Isaac a little wave and a fangy, malformed grin, then licks his
nose in Reggie's direction and winks.
Amusement fills the eyes of Pathfinder, as Joey makes her introduction, and he
finally learns her Auspice and Tribe.
Olga devotes a fair bit of attention to Holly's introduction, and she manages a
small smile, but she's too distracted prodding on and beaming at her Cub
to give Flash more than a perfunctory grimace. When Joey finishes, she
nod at her, looking proud and somehow a little embarassed.
Natalie acknowledges Megan's words with a tip of her chin before turning to
watch the introductions. She gives the cubs brief encouraging smiles; her
reaction to Flash is less obvious, but he gets a quirk of a smile as well.
Cutter moves toward Flash, pushing his hat back so as to more easily see the
taller Garou.
Jacinta offers a tight smile to Turtle when she returns.
Natalie joins the general milling about, and abandons her Elder's side to head
for Signe.
Burns-The-Wyrm allows his form to dwindle back toward his human shape, and
likewise heads over toward Signe.
Holly drops back down to lupus, nudging Atcen silently before padding out of
the tension filled caern.
Taslyn is hanging out at the tree she has rested at the whole night, quiet and
watching the others.
Finds-The-Path rises from the ground, shrinking down into Homid as he
approaches Taslyn and her tree, wearing a smile.
Taslyn shoves her hands down into her pockets and waves at a few people and
heads back to the farmhouse.
With the formal gathering breaking up, Paints-Light trots over to Wolf-Heart
and chuffs a greeting to him. ~A moment to speak with you,~ she addresses
her tribesmate.
Fights-For-Hope makes his way towards Signe. With the Get all together in one
place, he looks around regarding them all, including Dale and grunts
while gesturing with the bottle, ~A drink before we spill blood? We can
see how highly Cutter thinks of a Get's thirst for good drink.~
Cutter hears his name and waves to the knot of Get as he approaches the 'Gazer,
smiling sweetly.
Flash straightens up and, slowly, shrinks down to human form. Immediately he
starts shivering, arms wrapped around his body -- he's wearing yellow
smiley-face boxers only; there are glyphs visibly scarred into his chest
and belly. Despite the cold, he's grinning, and that grin gets turned to
Cutter.
He's tall but gawky, a rail-thin, bit-over-six-foot beanpole with dark
blond hair that's almost brown and muddy blue eyes that usually are
forced to peer out from behind overlong bangs. While he's not out-and-out
ugly, his youthful, nerdish features are not particularly handsome,
either, and depending on what he's wearing he looks to be anywhere from
his late teens to his mid-twenties. His tenor voice, which tends to rise
in octave when he's worked up, has an accent that's hard to pin down.
The bright yellow smiley-face boxer shorts cover his privates but don't
conceal the rest of his scrawny, a-stiff-breeze-could-knock-him-down
frame. Body hair is blond and minimal, and a series of three glyphs have
been carved into his chest and stomach. "Moon Calf" is on top, "Dishonor"
in the middle, and the lowest glyph looks a lot like the mark for Metis,
but there's a twisty bit at the bottom.
Signe offers her packmate a nod and then eyes the rest of the Get with an
equally feral, eager grin.
Wolf-Heart doesn't watch the Gets' behavior. He doesn't listen to Natalie or
Leala as they talk. He doesn't hear Megan refer to him. He's spend the
last bit of the moot, since Dale took the bones, glaring at Olga. As
Light-Painter finally comes up, the Ahroun tears his eyes off Olga to
face the Elder, still shaking as he stands. His jaw sets, head still
quivering as he sits on edge.
Cutter dips his head. "Naked guy. Just wanted to mention, in passing, something
that might be of interest."
Now that the Moot's form is falling apart, Olga's face twists up into a scowl.
With a nudge and a whisper, she sends Joey running into the woods after
Karl and Taslyn. She sets her hands down against the dirt of the ground,
leaning back into them, and just lies there, like she's waiting for a
wave to wash over her on the beach. She just then notices Wolf-Heart's
glare, but she doesn't respond to it any meaningful way, turning away her
head.
Dale shakes his head minutely. "No, thank you," he demurs, politeness connoting
respect for Jamethon's new rank. "Never drink right before a big game."
Flash headflicks overlong bangs out of his eyes and looks all interested-like
at Cutter. "What's that, Frankie?"
Paints-Light follows the Ahroun's gaze to Olga briefly, before returning her
own him. She lowers her voice then, speaking softly to him.
Natalie mutters sotto-voice, "I love the smell of napalm in the morning," as
she watches the other Get as well. When Josh stalks at Olga she turns to
follow him, her eyes narrowing and arms folding over her chest.
Cutter says "I'm considering asking Fox to lend his blessing to a pack. It
looks a bit Raggie heavy, which frightens me to no end."
Fights-For-Hope eyes the label on the bottle, while most things written in
Russian take him a moment to parse, this word he knows well. "It is beer,
and if memory serves it is good beer." He glances once each to Owen and
Signe offering a drink again without words.
Flash raises his eyebrows. "Fox?" Unfolding his arms a little, he absently
fingers the middle of the three glyphs carved vertically into his torso.
It's the glyph for Dishonor, as it happens. He smirks. "Fox is a sneaky
little bastard."
Cutter nods. "And, to speak honestly--or as honestly as the tribe will
allow--I'm not much for Plan A, Direct Frontal Assault."
~I want to deal with her now.~ Keeps the Wolf snarls back to the Glass Walker
Elder. His eyes can't stay in one place long enough to keep off the Bone
Gnawer. He's still restraining himself from carrying out the desired
actions, for now at least. ~Not wait. Now.~
Signe nods to Dale as he refuses the drink, but she chooses not to. It's clear
it's a simple personal choice, and she respects Dale's decision despite
her words. ~Well, I'll certainly take one,~ she growls out, reaching for
Jamethon's offer. She takes only a little though, the moon having enough
effect on her as it is.
Flash traces the Dishonor glyph with a finger, then wraps his arms around
himself again and hops a few times, pale skin goosepimply in the chill
night. "I like plan B, if it means the old-fashioned D-and-D backstab.
Plan B is niftilicious. Fox, huh? Who else?"
Cutter shrugs. "Most folks would rather collect Honor and Glory than get stuff
done. So I don't exactly have people beating down the door."
As Signe drinks, Dale's expression clouds with momentary uncertainty, but he
presses on regardless. "How'd I do?" he wonders. "With the whole
challenge thing, and everything."
Wildfire waves his free hand. ~Save the victory celebration until after the
victory.~ His ears are swivelling, but he's trying hard not to pay
attention to the other conversations going on in the Caern's heart. He
adjusts his axes weight on his shoulder with a brief shrug.
"Battering doors is a job for meathead Ahrouns," Flash states snarkily, with a
glance over toward the Get of Fenris. A very /quick/ glance. "Well, okay,
I'm interested. I don't have any honor to lose anyway." He pauses in his
bouncing. "Or glory. Wisdom's iffy."
Olga doesn't take long to figure out that Wolf-Heart is talking about her, the
constant eye contact leaves little doubt. She looks away from him,
lounging with her pack, glaring off absent-mindedly at nothing in
particular, until the imp of the perverse seizes hold of her, and she
waits until the Ahroun's fixed his eyes on her, and offers him a vicious
little wave, and snide half-smile, before returning her hand to its place
supporting her, and looking away into the vague distance.
Paints-Light growls softly, eyes narrowing. ~In the time it took you to snarl
at me, you could have answered the question,~ she snarls back, baring her
teeth softly. ~I shall seek the answer elsewhere.~ She growls loudly,
with some menace, but turns to stalk away.
Cutter says "Hey now. If I can find a meat head Ahroun who'd be interested in
this pack, I'm more than happy to have somebody with a little sneaky and
a lot of muscle."
A great hulking wolf stares back at you. This wolf is much larger than the
normal wolf the average person would expect to encounter, and quite a bit
more muscular. If it weren't for the softness in the gold-brown eyes
returning your gaze, its intentions would hard to determine. She stands
alert, large muscled legs squarely set into the ground. Her fur is steely
grey, tinged with yellow in the chest area.
Signe wipes her mouth and hands the drink back to Jamethon. ~Perfect, as far as
I'm concerned,~ she says with a nod of definite approval for Dale.
Natalie nudges her, which gets her attention, and she looks from packate
to Joshua and back again, scowling fiercely.
"How 'bout the guy with the flamey axe, then?" Flash suggests cheerfully.
Cutter eyes Flash. "Dude. You saw the flamey guy at the moot. Does he *look*
like a Fox kind of guy to you?"
Fights-For-Hope pops open the bottle and after throwing back a good sized
amount himself hands over the bottle so Signe can take some herself. It
is dark, bitter, and cold... manly beer! Taking the bottle back and
reclosing it he grunts to the others, ~There are plenty of reasons to
celebrate now. Your loss.~ With that he looks to Dale, ~Honestly, I don't
know shit about what problem you had with Olga, but you convinced me.
What /I/ want to know though, is do you plan to stay without pack
forever? Or are you too good for the rest of us?~
Wildfire swivels an ear towards Cutter and Flash. He can't help it. A low growl
escapes from him. ~Can I kill him? Just a little bit?~ Which of the two
he's referring to should be obvious.
Dale's brows rise, at that. "Are you inviting me to join a pack, Jamethon?" he
asks, guardedly. "I was thinking about hooking up with Havoc, if they'll
have me. But we'll see."
Natalie ignores the chest-thumping. Instead she's watching Wolf-Heart and
Paints-Light, his lips shivering over her teeth.
Flash looks back over his shoulder at the clutch of Get, and his eyes widen
slightly at Wildfire's growl. Then he grins and turns back to Cutter.
"Looks like he's more of a Wolverine. I'd suggest Joshie-boy, but he
thinks the city has cooties."
Cutter shrugs. "Well. He's right. It does."
Wolf-Heart starts twitching as Olga waves, still shaking and with veins and
neck bulging as he stands. His muzzle opens itself to snap at the Gnawer,
issuing forth a stream of half mothers tongue as well as more than his
fair share of drool. As he shakes in place, he grabs either upper arm to
try and restrain himself. Totally missing anything other than the Gnawer.
Signe blinks, a little surprised at Dale. For the life of her, she can't
concentrate on Olga and Josh, no matter how imminent bloodshed seems to
be. Her attention returns to the Get once again. ~Havoc?~ she says to
Dale, grinning nearly fiendishly. ~I didn't know. But I like.~
Flash headflicks hair from his eyes, then peers over at the frothing Walker
Ahroun. "Holy crap, I think he's going to shit himself."
Cutter eyes the seizure-stricken wolf. "Dude. Don't suffer me to tend to your
sickness," he murmurs.
Fights-For-Hope snorts, perhaps in humor at Dale's words, "You would pack wiith
Havoc, would you? Good luck there, but if that doesn't turn out. I seek a
pack that will do justice to all three facets. A war pack of glory with
their eyes on honor and wisdom as well. I seek those who have glory
enough to kill the foe while possessing wisdom to stay alive in the
meantime.~
Signe also pointedly does not answer Wildfire's request, in order to not have
to deny it.
Natalie mutters something under her breath about being so lucky.
Signe's eyes flicker with her surpressed rage and anger, surging a bit at
Jamethon's comment and snort. Gritting her teeth and setting her jaw, she
sneers back at the newly fostern theurge. ~You have some problem with my
pack?~
Olga ignores Wolf-Heart, she sits there complacently exchanging the occasional
idle remark to one of her packmates, feeling perhaps unduly secure under
the eyes of Chimera, in the midst of her pack. She does not, however,
risk another provocative gesture.
Dale takes a smooth step back, out from between Signe and Fights-for-Hope; the
answer he was about to offer the ahroun, and the question he was about to
ask the theurge, both die on his lips. Unconsciously, his form gathers
the mass of the near-man.
Wildfire at this time rolls his eyes. This is obviously an old argument for him.
Anger, annoyance and disappointment in her eyes, Paints-Light shifts smoothly
back to homid and she trots away from Joshua. Rather than watch him
combust, she takes her leave of the caern, giving a nod to Natalie and
others as she departs, heading out the way she came in.
Cutter lifts his head. "Hey, groundskeeper? I respectfully ask you a question
of policy."
Fights-For-Hope's humor fades rather quickly as he looks right back at the
alpha of Havoc. ~Read between the fucking lines. You've got plenty of
people in Havoc. We need more numbers of packs, not just packs with more
numbers. I've been Wolverine's child and he has shown me his rage.
And...~ he adds after taking a deep sighing breath that serves in no way
to calm him at all, ~You're all women. There is no problem with this, I
know how much you can kick ass. I just don't see Dale fitting in.~
"We'll let him open jars, promise," Nat tosses over her shoulder as she heads
after Leala.
Flash's tongue moves faster than his brain. He calls over to the clutch of Get,
"They make hormones for that, yanno! A few slices and snips and he'll fit
in just FINE!"
Wolf-Heart keeps up the 'seizuring,' still unable to manage anything other than
a stream of that half-mothers tongue. It doesn't matter that she doesn't
look back his way again, he still grasps himself tightly, nothing
changing. Finally, he tears himself way from the Gnawer, still gibbering
and shaking as he stomps off in the opposite direction.
Wildfire turns at that comment, no longer paying attentio to either Signe nor
Jamethon. He's all on Flash now, axe no longer just resting on his
shoulder. He stalks forward, no more words to say.
It's not so much Fights-For-Hope's argument that sets the Get Jarl off, it's
the vaguely disrespectfully way it's issued to her. she snarls back,
pushing the theurge in the chest. ~We're not /women/. We're /warriors/,~
is her only verbal answer. As instinctively as Dale's was, her body
pushes up into the form of war, and she practically shakes with barely
controlled rage. As the one who leads the revel, she turns then to gather
the forces to go.
Cutter takes a step away from Flash and says again "Hey, groundskeeper? I
respectfully ask you a question of policy."
Glancing over towards Cutter, Alicia raises up a brow and heads over to him.
"It would probably be my decision," Burns-the-Wyrm points out, his manner
milder than those of his tribemates. "Which pack to join, and where I
would try to fit in. If you have a proposal, Jamethon, I'll listen. I
won't promise more, but I won't promise less, either."
"Exit," Flash says, watching Wildfire approach with the Axe of Doom. "Stage
right." Having shown that he has not the wisdom to avoid provoking Get
Ahroun on a full moon, he now displays a distinct lack of courage... by
turning tail and making a break for the edge of the caern.
A rumbling echos in the Black Furie's throat as Lures-The-Beast nearly hangs on
Signe's coattails as her own hackles raise, ears flickering forward,
staring long and hard at Fights-For-Hope, before shaking her head. She
turns to the Jarl at the ready, flexing her claws.
At the center, Fights-For-Hope takes the push with unchanging expression, not
budging at all but flowing back a bit like hit with a strong wind before
returning to stand straight. Only once Signe turns away does
Fights-For-Hope smile a crinos smile, not a pretty thing, and look proud
of the one who just a moment ago pushed him.
At the center, Cutter waggles his fingers in farewell to Flash, then turns to
Alicia. "So. The Aboriginals would often burn offerings of tobacco to the
spirits in tribute. Some previous Groundskeepers have spurned this
tradition, and I wanted to know your thoughts on the matter."
At the center, Alicia tilts her head slightly and thinks for a moment. "Why did
some others spurn it? Was it because it wasn't truly Garou rituals or did
they have a problem with tabacco?"
At the center, Cutter says "I think they were worried people would fail to pack
out their butts. But of course any conscientious Garou would be sure to
leave the place cleaner than he found it."
At the center, "Let me get with Seeker on it, and we'll talk. I don't see a
problem with it, as long as the burning /was/ an offering to the spirits
in ritual, and not because you wanted to smoke a cigarette out here."
Alicia says pointedly. "If you toss it in a bowl, grind it up, burn it in
prayer as a ritual 'should' be.." She trails off. "But, I'll ask his
opinion on it.."
At the center, Cutter dips his head respectfully. "Excellent. Thank you for
your time."
At the center, Alicia says with a determined voice. "I mean it when I say no
cigarette smoking." She says with a smirk. "I'm not going to tolerate
that. I definitly don't want younger Garou thinking they can come out
here with a pack of reds and fire up. Especially if they see an Elder
doing it."
At the center, Cutter shakes his head. "Knowing your opinion on the matter, I
would have no mind to cross an official of the Sept." He seems pretty
straightforward about it. "And there are plenty of other places I can
smoke."
At the center, Wildfire only gets a few feet before the Stargazer bolts. He
snarls in hatred with such open cowardice at the 'Gazer's back. He stares
off after him for a moment before storming back to the clutch of Get,
this time looking diretly towards Dale. ~Alright, already. Who the hell
are you?~
At the center, Alicia nods her head. "Cool, thanks Cutter." She says with a wry
grin on her face, then turns her attention to the Fenrir that speaks. Her
chin raises up a bit, recognizing Owen's warform.
Flash starts scrambling up the rocks, slips, and hits his knee with an audible
crack and a, "Ow, fuck!" Clutching the abused joint, the metis glances
back in time to see that Wildfire isn't about to split his skull open,
and instead of continuing his flight, sits down on the offending rock. At
least it's not so cold over here.
At the center, Dale shrugs both shoulders as he answers Wildfire's question,
that same polite respect in his posture despite his moon-drawn mein.
"Dale Jenson. I played hockey for University of Minnesota. Was getting
scouted by the Devils, the Flyers, the Flames, and the Sharks. But then I
Changed, and that all went to hell. So now I'm Modi, and I'm here."
At the center, Cutter eyes the world around. "Think I've done about all the
damage I can tonight," he murmurs, and strolls toward the woods.
Flash gives Cutter a wave from his place in the steamy warmth, then returns to
examining his knee, making sure it's healed up properly.
At the center, Cutter salutes the Garou in Repose on his way up the trail.
At the center, Wildfire frowns a little bit, never having really been a
follower of hockey in the first place. ~Stand up straighter. Speak with
pride. You are a Get, after all.~ Of course, all this is spoken from one
who proudly wears his feelings on his shoulder for all to see. ~Owen
Hollsinger. Wildfire. Fostern Modi of the Get of Fenris here. Formerly a
child of Wolverine, Fenris, Weasel, and Black Unicorn. Rited in the Sept
of the Sentinel and full member of the Sept of the Hidden Walk, once the
Wheel Renewed. Grandson of Ule Gathering-Storm Hollsinger, Skald and
warrior of the blitzkreig then later hero of the retaking of Dresden,
himself a great grandchild of Otto Dragon-Thane Von-Heisling, Modi during
the rise of Prussia.~
At the center, Fights-For-Hope at first looks right over at Dale with a note of
interest at the mentioning of one of the hockey teams named, but he
quickly pushes that down and looks towards Owen, eyes casting down
slightly as to not catch the gaze of the Ahroun on the edge of his
willpower. Speaking about Dale he growls out, ~I assume he got the name
Burns-The-Wyrm for the Axe he wields.~ He stands straight now and offers
to Dale, ~I do not recall if we were able to exchange proper greetings.
Jamethon Black. Fights-For-Hope of the Get of Fenris. Godi and now
Fostern. Formerly a child of Wolverine, Weasel, and Wyvern. Rited at the
Mountain's Heart and Gatekeeper here in the Hidden Walk. And... ~ he
looks now to Dale, ~Havoc is a kick ass packs of Warriors... who happen
to be women. If you're willing to be there Dale, all power to you.
Otherwise, I openly invite the two of you to pack.~
At the center, Rumbling loudly in her throat, Lures-The-Beast begins to grate
her teeth, offering a sharp look over towards Defiant-Storm as she
listens to the trio of Get talk among themselves. Agitated, she begins to
pace, shaking her head, claws flexing as she tries to get her head in the
game and prepare herself for the revel.
At the center, Dale's expression clouds a bit, but he nods anyway, even as his
form dwindles again to his birth-shape now that the immediate tension
appears to have passed. "I don't have an important bloodline like yours,"
he says. "I also don't have many accomplishments to hang my hat on, yet.
What I do have is this;" and just then, he hefts the crinos-sized
single-headed axe he's still carrying. Those close by might note that it
is obviously not of Fenrir manufacture: it is a Fianna artifact. He
switches to the Garou tongue to explain its heritage. ~This was given to
me by my mentor, Tomas Breaks-Stone, for saving the life of his daughter,
Kin to our tribe. It was claimed by Breaks-Stone as a war-trophy, when
his pack helped overthrow the failed leaders of the Caern of the Iron
Oak, in Boston.~
At the center, Oh, if only Megan were here to hear this! Wildfire smirks as the
story behind the axe is told. ~But you do have an important bloodline.
You are Get.~ Lures-the-Beast gets a cold look for a brief moment.
~Always remember that. Nice axe,~ he adds. He then takes a moment to
regard the Get theurge, having indeed heard him, but says nothing of it
just now.
At the center, Fights-For-Hope suddenly, quite abruptly, becomes completely
silent without even a rumbling coming from his throat at Dale's words. He
turns his head quite slowly as if holding himself back from doing so.
Once looking directly at Dale he rumbles, ~Tell me what you know of these
failed leaders of the Iron Oak?~
Flash suddenly looks up with interest. Giving his knee a final rub, he pulls
his long legs up and sits crosslegged on the rock. His dark blond hair is
already turning darker in the steam; he uses his fingers to comb it back,
but it flops back over his eyes again.
At the center, Dale lets his attention slide over to Fights-for-Hope, now. "Not
much," he answers, earnestly. "Tomas told me that the leaders of that
sept had become weak and undisciplined, and couldn't hold their caern
against the Wyrm. Since it was such an important, powerful caern, many
Fenrir travelled to Boston, along with some Shadow Lords, and took the
place over. Better that than letting it fall."
At the center, Fights-For-Hope pulls back his lips, snarling as his breathing
quickens in pace and his eyes noticably dialate. ~I see.~ He forces out
through clenched teeth. ~How did they... take it over?~
At the center, Olga lifts her eyes to scan the treeline for the Ahroun who'd
been frothing at her earlier, but she doesn't see him, and she visibly
relaxes a bit from her tense, grim position. She exchanges mumbled speech
with her packmates and occasionally listens in to the Get's conversation
when it's loud enough to catch anything.
At the center, The older Get's reaction to the story gives Dale a bit of pause.
He goes on carefully, and lets the axe's haft come to rest in both his
hands, across his body. ~With hammer and claw,~ he explains, once again
switching to the Garou tongue.
At the center, Fights-For-Hope closes his eyes for a moment and tilts his head
both ways cracking his neck, ~I have been called at times, by Wildfire
himself, a damn fool who thinks too much. But I served under Wyvern as I
said, who demands that a Caern never be taken by force from untainted
Garou. Though I hope that the Iron Oak sees better leaders now than in
the past... I mourn the needless death of any of those Garou who are
sworn to serve Gaia at the hands of others who have done the same.~
At the center, Dale, to his credit, only allows incredulity to trouble his
expression momentarily -- and as it does so, he turns his gaze toward
Wildfire. Once he's schooled his face back to something approaching
neutrality, though, he nods non-committally to Fights-for-Hope, and tries
to change the subject. "You said you wanted to pack. Under what spirit?"
Flash calls over from his place in the steam. "Isn't it called the /Shattered/
Oak now? Rumor is the caern's weakening. Of course, I heard that from a
/Fianna/..."
At the center, Wildfire's response to the look he receives is another rolling
of the eyes and... Dear god, is that Stargazer still here? Tension creeps
along the ahroun's contenance, but he keeps control for the moment.
At the center, Fights-For-Hope growls less then gently as he finally turns his
head to regards the foolish Flash, ~There are times however... that I
would make exceptions.~ He looks back to Dale, ~There are, many spirits
worth seeking... but then you must see what spirits will see you as worth
being sought. I would assemble the pack and go forth in ritual call for a
spirit... the flavor of each individual of the pack would mingle and flow
on the Umbral airts for the spirits to taste. It would be difficult to
say who would come, but as someone who has seen it done many times and
experienced it once himself... the ones who come are fitting too the pack
that has come together.~
Flash smiles in a blissfully, smugly calm sort of way, though the eyes behind
the damp bangs are sharp and observant.
At the center, While Dale's gaze dances for just a moment to the figure at the
steam vents, his answer is a shrug -- perhaps he really doesn't know more
than what he's been told by his mentor. At Fights-For-Hope's response to
his question, he nods again, minutely, and says, "Oh." Clearly he hasn't
developed much of a head for Garou mysticism.
At the center, Wildfire eyes Dale for a moment, sniffing the air as though it
would hold the answer to his next question. ~Just how long has it been
since your Rite of Passage?~
At the center, Fights-For-Hope has seen just that response from others before,
and is about to speak again but instead just nods to Wildfire's question.
At the center, Dale answers this question pretty quickly. "Has to be about six
or eight months, now. I stuck around Minneapolis a while afterwards, but
it wasn't really home anymore. My folks had some friends out here -- Kin
-- so I made some calls and arranged to come out."
At the center, Fights-For-Hope eyes the axe Dale holds then looks back up to
Dale. ~How many battles have you recieved scars in?~
At the center, "Including my Rite of Passage?" Dale tries to clarify. "One."
At the center, Wildfire tilts his head. ~Let's see it. And have you been given
Wounding for it?~
At the center, Fights-For-Hope stands and waits for Wildfire's request to be
complied with.
At the center, Dale nods his head as answer to Wildfire, and quickly unbuttons
his shirt to reveal the scar that runs crosswise his abdomen: four ragged
but parallel lines, as if from claws too narrow-set to have belonged to a
Garou, and discolored a bit, likely from the ash used in the Wounding
ritual. "I think the fire actually did more damage," he tells both of the
older Get. "But this, I guess, was what would've killed me. At least
that's how the Skald who did my Wounding Rite explained it."
At the center, Fights-For-Hope studies the scaring noticbly, as if reading a
meaning in the pattern. After a few moments of this he looks back up to
Dale's face and rumbles, ~And the fetish you bare, does /it/ have a name
by which we will know it in the stories of glory told long after your
death?~
At the center, Wildfire grunts after regarding the scar approvingly. ~Now,
excuse me. I am going to go drain the dragon before we go on this little
killing spree.~ With that, he turns to head out before revel.
At the center, Dale closes up his shirt and hefts the axe again; as far as he's
concerned, the only meaning to be found in his scars is that he didn't
move fast enough to avoid his enemy's blow. He eyes the fetish-weapon
carefully for a moment or two before answering. "None that I know of," he
says. "Maybe I should give it one."
At the center, Fights-For-Hope offers to Dale in answer, ~Yes. You should. One
that the spirit within would be honored by. One that will honor all the
sacrifices that brought it to your hands. And most importantly, one that
will strike terror into your enemies as your call your battlecry.~
At the center, "I'll give it some thought," Dale says -- and looks after
Wildfire. "I ought to be getting ready, too. Signe has me taking charge
of one of the smaller groups. Maybe we can talk more afterwards."
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hazlogs
