"..."

[hazlogs]

It is currently 16:11 Pacific Time on Tue Apr 13 2004.

Currently in Saint Claire, it is partly sunny. The temperature is 60 degrees
      Fahrenheit (15 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from the 
      north at 8 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 29.89 and falling, and 
      the relative humidity is 49 percent. The dewpoint is 41 degrees 
      Fahrenheit (5 degrees Celsius.)

Currently the moon is in the waning Half Moon phase (41% full).

Barnyard

The lane wends its way back and around the farmhouse to here, where it widens
      into a broad, grassy sward contained only by the woods which encircle it 
      on three sides. Buildings break up the purity of the landscape: an 
      open-sided structure which serves as a garage and the big barn, empty of 
      livestock, to the east. A good-sized vegetable and herb garden furrows 
      the land south of the barn, while a pyramid-like pile of rocks, of 
      similar consistency to the gravel of the lane, rests a few yards south of 
      the garage.

North of the buildings, the fields have long been fallow, hastening a
      conversion from farmland to natural prairie. A sliding glass door allows 
      admittance to the farmhouse, the interior obscured by Levolor(tm) blinds 
      in a wood-grain pattern. The lane leads out around the house to the 
      southwest. The discerning can just barely pick out the beginnings of a 
      faint path into the woods towards the southeast.

Lifting a hand to scratch idly at his shoulder, the same hand lifted to rub at
      his eyebrow piercing. "You mean you want us to fight? Shit...alright...I 
      can deal with that," he states with a wry, crooked grin. "Just in the 
      barn though, right? And I can shift all I want in there too, right?" 
      Remembering a few things Taslyn has told him; Aidan views the farmhouse 
      with a lighter smile; good food, real beds.

Megan is still standing with Aidan actually on the edge of the woods before
      entering the barnyard proper, and to him, she gives a shrug of her right 
      shoulder. "All you want. There are no windows, so no one can see you, and 
      it's far enough off the road that people shouldn't hear you, or if they 
      do, they'll think it's a wolf howling or something. And yeah, I want you 
      to fight. You're an ahroun, a warrior. You'll need to learn how to fight 
      in crinos, in hispo, in lupus. Everything works differently than fighting 
      as a human. You got claws, and teeth, and you walk funny. The balance is 
      way off. Only way you're going to be any use," again the wink, "is to 
      practice."

The idea of beating up on others isn't a thought that persists in Aidan's mind;
      he's not a bully, never has been. Stretching, he nods, absorbing 
      everything told to him in much the same way he's taken in all of his 
      teachings thus far. "Anything else I should know?" he asks, about to add 
      on a bit of sarcasm, but deciding against it.

Atcen comes out of the woods and heads in the direction of the barnyard on
      dirty bare feet, her short dark hair plastered to her forehead with 
      sweat. The gaunt girl walks lightly, arms loosely swinging, and hums a 
      wordless little tune under her breath.

Megan doesn't immediately notice the arrival of the girl, but does notice the
      humming. She looks around to find the source, and scowls a little, a 
      scowl that clears to a set jaw and a thin-lipped expression, before she 
      turns back to Aidan to answer him. "Food is fair game. You can sleep 
      anywhere you can find a place to crash up in the attic or in the hayloft 
      of the barn. And you're expected to pull your share of the chores. Do the 
      dishes, cook, clean up, work the vegetable patch, that sort of thing. 
      Taslyn and Trevor are the adult Garou who watch over the place. Mind 
      them, and any other Fianna. Any other Garou from any other tribe are not 
      allowed to teach you without my permission...unless you do something to 
      fuck up so badly they have to. So, if someone does, make a point of it. 
      If they insist, listen, and tell me who it is, so I can kick *their* 
      asses. Okay?" Then she turns back to the Wendigo cub, as she finally 
      nears, and says, "Hello, Atcen." Not particularly friendly like, but 
      reservedly polite.

While the majority of his attention is upon Megan, Aidan's interested enough in
      the farm area to notice Atcen's passage. He watches her a moment, finding 
      himself a little more eager for social interaction than he can really 
      recall ever being - but is it any surprise with how long he's spent in 
      the grotto? "Who's she?" he asks of Megan, noting the name the Adren 
      uses. Deciding to keep as reserved as his fellow Fianna is portraying, he 
      doesn't bother greeting Atcen. He rolls his eyes at the mention of 
      chores, but doesn't complain beyond the movement. "So...that it?"

Atcen falls silent upon seeing the Adren Fianna and her charge, and she's just
      as reserved as Megan, albeit with far more of a submissive manner. 
      Ducking her head, the Wendigo cub murmurs a 'hello', then peers curiously 
      at Aidan.

He's tall enough for his age, about average for the majority of males around;
      he may grow an inch or two taller before he settles into his height, but 
      it's not going to make that much of a difference. His build isn't all 
      that spectacular at this point; he has yet to settle into the 'filled 
      out' build (or flabbed out, as some cases go) of males in their prime. 
      Yet he is muscular enough; lanky and lithe, to put it basically.

His facial features are a bit young, yet a short-cropped growth of stubble
      gives him a slightly older appearance. His hair is long, falling at a 
      length just past his shoulders. The color seems to be a darkened blond, 
      or at least it originally was; it's been dyed a bleach-blond at some 
      point and appears far lighter. Generally, it's tied to keep out of his 
      way. His eyes are a simple amber in color; nothing spectacular there.

His clothing is trendy enough for the times. Baggy cargo pants of a dark khaki
      cover his lower area, plenty of pockets found at any one point. A 
      dusty-white t-shirt bearing some obscure rock band name across it covers 
      his top.

But that's not all to him; he bears several piercings. There is a set in his
      left ear, two in the lob, the higher one a simple silver ring with the 
      lower piercing bearing a 'talon' hook in it. A set of five rings marks 
      the upper cartilage of the same ear. His right eyebrow holds a ring with 
      set sapphire ball in it while the nose-area between his eyes holds a 
      curved steel bar piercing. On his back, where the neck and shoulders 
      meet, is a black-inked tribal pattern with a blue tinge curving around in 
      its own design; it is about six inches long in total.