Cursing in Church

[hazlogs]

It is currently 07:14 Pacific Time on Fri Mar 13 1998.
Currently the moon is in the waning Full Moon phase (99% full).
Currently on this breezy and cold winter sunrise in the general St. Claire 
  area, it is 43 degrees Fahrenheit (6.1 degrees Celsius). The wind is coming 
  from the southwest at 8.5 mph. The ground is wet. Skies are clear with a 
  probable chance of precipitation.

By the waterfall, Bailey heads back around the Wheel to the north.
In the windiest area, Bailey comes up from the south.
Erik sits crosslegged at the base of the great stone, head bowed, gloved hand 
  resting on his left knee. Sensing movement, he looks up.

Listeners in the Walk:
Name             Sex  Form    Doing                    Location
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
Falcon's Wing     M   Lupus   -                        By the Falls 
Erik              M   Homid   Smelling like evergreen  Center of the Wheel 
Bailey            M   Homid   -                        Windy Spot

In the windiest area, Bailey walks in from the valley above, winds pushing his 
  hair back. he looks around in total admiration of the caern in daylight, and 
  smiles.
Erik pushes to his feet and stalks toward Bailey, long legs devouring the 
  distance, skeletal face set into a tightness born of cold and anger.
You head northwest, into the wind and swirling spray.

In the Swirling Wind
The rugged walls of the canyon grow narrower to the northeast, forcing the 
  gusts of winds that it catches to rush down into this small clearing. Here 
  the breezes meet with the drifting mists off the waterfall's spray, becoming 
  swirling bits of haze that dance and whirl like merry ghosts. Occasionally, 
  the canyon's rim pushes swifter air into the caern, breaking up the dance 
  and sending the mists, scattered, back to their source.
Swirling in the area is some of the mist sprayed up by the waterfall to the 
  south. To the west, a rock slab juts out of the ground at an angle. the 
  caern's center is to the southwest; the rest of the valley extends 
  northeast, toward the mountains.
Contents:
Bailey
Obvious exits:
WaterFall  Center  Rocky Slab  Up the Valley  

Bailey notices the look on Erik's face as he approaches, and sighs quietly, 
  face tightening a little. "Hi, Erik," he says, light tenor voice carring 
  despite the wind.
By the waterfall, Falcon's Wing, asleep near the pool, wakes up slowly.
Erik stops himself just out of arm's reach of the Glass Walker -- and for the 
  gangling metis, arm's reach is fairly long indeed. "Do you have /any/ idea 
  what you did last night?" The angelic voice trembles with barely-controlled 
  wrath, like a flaming sword held poised over a quaking Biblical town.
Bailey takes a long calming breath, and rubs a scraggly chin, the product of 
  his recent good clean Gnawer living. "Well, let's see. I told a story, 
  related exactly what happened, and people seemed to like it."
Erik's hand snaps into a fist as the rage cranks upward a notch. "You bloody 
  ignorant, careless little /moon calf/. You spoke names of the Wyrm. In the 
  /caern/, you spoke those names. Do you have /any/ idea how dangerous that 
  is?" Trembling with rage, he takes a step forward, closing the distance. 
  "Names have power, you urrah /fool/," he spits. "And /those/ names are 
  unspeakable. You've fouled the air of this caern by speaking them here. 
  You've fouled your own tongue by repeating them." Another step forward. "And 
  if I /ever/ hear you repeat such names on the bawn, I swear by Stag himself 
  that I'll rip out your tongue and break your bloody fingers."
By the waterfall, Falcon's Wing blinks, and rises to his feet, absolutely 
  fascinated.
Bailey rolls his eyes, the Rage welling up in him, now. "Oh, Christ, Erik! All 
  I was doing was telling a story! The names I /repeated/ were those used in 
  that Traitor's curse on all of us who were there! I spoke them, because 
  that's what was spoken. You're angry, fine, but don't you /dare/ be angry at 
  me for doing my job. Be angey at Red-Belly. Be angry at the fact that we let 
  that traitor bastard into the Caern! Gaia only knows if he managed to spill 
  any of our secrets before Kasie put him down!" He shakes his head, eyes 
  darkening. "I can't fucking believe this. No matter what I do, there's 
  always goign to be /someone/ who has to find fault."
By the waterfall, Falcon's Wing heads into the center.
At the center, Falcon's Wing goes northwest, into the swirling wind.
Falcon's Wing comes into this quarter from the caern center.
Falcon's Wing has arrived.
Falcon's Wing shakes out his ruff and pads into the center. He is expressing 
  it angrily, Bailey, but I said similar and you did not bridle. Listen to the 
  reasoning, not the anger.
Erik's voice turns to thunder, body contorting into the huge Glabro form. ~You 
  didn't have to repeat them! Not the words, not those names!~ He jabs a 
  finger at the Glass Walker. ~You've violated the law and heaped filth on the 
  caern, /this/ caern.~
Falcon's Wing says, a note of tension in his voice, ~Voice of Trees. Do not 
  rant. Explain. This moon does not need more blood.~
Erik is shaking like a tree in a hurricane, thin lips peeled back to bare 
  sharpened, yellowed, crooked teeth, one step away from frenzy, and for once 
  it won't be the Fox.
Bailey doesn't move, but his voice lowers, as if each word has to be pushed 
  outward. "It was for the story. What I said, it was a lesson, to teach how 
  close we all came to being betrayed to the Wyrm, and for the Sept to protect 
  from that happening again. You're a Galliard, Erik. You of all people should 
  be able to understand that."
Falcon's Wing looks up at Erik, and back at Bailey. ~I believe what he is 
  saying is that you should have used euphemisms.~
~You're a Galliard too,~ Erik rumbles in a rolling baritone voice if doom. ~Or 
  you claim to be.~ He sucks in a deep breath and repeats, firmly, ~Names. 
  Have. Power. With a name, we can command spirits. With a name, we can call 
  them to our aid.~ His hand clenches and unclenches. ~And with a name, a fool 
  can mistakening bring upon himself the attention of the elder Wyrm spirits. 
  Thunderwyrms that can swallow whole cities. Spirits almost as powerful as 
  the Celestines themselves! Names dripping with /filth/. And you just repeat 
  them like a mindless parrot.~
Bailey takes a shuddering breath as his fists clench, turning white.
Falcon's Wing watches Bailey calmly.
Erik stares down at the Glass Walker, weight shifted onto the balls of his 
  feet, still balanced on the edge of reason and frenzy. Teeth gritted, he 
  adds, ~A Galliard, of all people, should know the power of words. One who 
  doesn't is no better than a chattering mynah bird.~
Falcon's Wing says, ~Voice of Trees. Insults do not help, in this.~
Bailey takes a shuddering breath as his fists clench, knuckles whitening. "And 
  Derrick, when you told me that, you spoke to me as a person. That is what 
  mattered." He looks back to Erik. "Yes, I repeated them in the context of 
  the story. I know the power words have, more than most." Through the anger, 
  his face flashes great signals of hurt and self-loathing. "But if it will 
  help the Sept as a whole be more careful about who is admitted, then I have 
  done my job."
Erik's skeletal face twists with the effort to keep his rage in check. ~And a 
  damned poor job you did, too, if you had to spew filth in the caern to do 
  it.~
Falcon's Wing sighs. ~Perhaps I should just translate for my packmate, since 
  he seems unable to persuade in any fashion. Night's Justice. They have power 
  even in story. Do they not?~
Bailey looks to Falcon's Wing, trying desperately, despite the Rage, /not/ to 
  glare at his friend.
Falcon's Wing blithely ignores any glaring. ~It is a question. I am not my 
  packmate.~
Erik keeps his jaw clenched to prevent himself from speaking further, though 
  his hand continues to open and close into a fist.
Bailey says "They do. But I did nothing wrong. No one else seemed to have a 
  problem with it. If they did, I'd have been attacked on the spot."
Falcon's Wing snorts. ~Not even that Get was attacked right then, on that 
  spot. If you think a Challenge would affect you more, I'm sure Voice of 
  Trees is in the mood. The point is, do you see what we mean at all? Do not 
  disagree just because Voice of Trees is losing control of himself.~
Bailey sighs, and closes his eyes tight. "I'm getting faulted for something I 
  could have hardly known. Then again, I'm the only one who gets faulted at 
  all in this place. No matter what I do, and how hard I try, this," the 
  mocking words are spat, "'filhy urrah scum' is /always/ the one who's 
  wrong." He opens his eyes, and fixes them with Erik's. "anmd to think, after 
  I heard you tell your stories, that I wanted you to be impressed with me? 
  That I wanted you to like me, because I could tell stories too? But I'm a 
  Walker, and a Child of Dog, so that makes me the one who must be stepped on, 
  as a matter of course."
Falcon's Wing snorts. ~Oh, fuck that. He's disagreeing with you as a person, 
  not as some representation of something. Do him the courtesy of seeing his 
  words on the same level.~
Erik grits his teeth, staring back at Bailey and meeting the gaze squarely. 
  ~Your tribe and pack totem doesn't change what you did. Gods!~ Anger mixes 
  with pain. ~Do you really have no /idea/? Did you not even /think/ that 
  names spoken by a Tainted Garou in his dying curse would be the kind of 
  names one could speak /lightly/? Gaia's Breath!~ He takes a step back and 
  sweeps his arm outward, taking in the whole caern. ~Bailey, this is a /holy/ 
  /place/. /Holy/. This is part of Gaia's heart.~ He points upwards. ~And out 
  there, lurking, are things no one even wants to imagine, waiting to devour 
  all that is good and pure. Things with that /hear/ when their name is 
  spoken. Things that /come/ when their name is let loose upon the air.~
Falcon's Wing adds, quietly, ~They may not come now, but if this opens the 
  way, even somewhat more... That is what we worry on. We must. It is our 
  place.~
By the waterfall, Piddles comes down the trail from the rim above.
By the waterfall, Piddles heads back around the Wheel to the north.
Piddles comes up from the south.
Piddles has arrived.
Piddles pads in quietly.
Falcon's Wing peers at Piddles for a moment, and then relaxes minutely. Hi.
Erik continues to stare at Bailey with mixed rage and agony; he doesn't notice 
  Piddles at all.
Piddles swivels his ears forward and wags his stubby tail at Falcon's Wing 
  before finding himself a place to sit down.
Bailey sighs again. "Tell the truth, all this 'ignorant parrot,' as you called 
  me, was doing was telling a story, and trying to teach. I can feel the power 
  in this place, but those words were part of the story, and to not tell the 
  truth as to what was said that night is an insult to my auspice." He shakes 
  his head again. "Doesn't surprise me. I could save this caern 
  single-handedly, and I'd be yelled at for not doing it with my eyes closed."
Falcon's Wing rolls his eyes. ~Fuck that shit,~ he says again. ~I know /I'm/ 
  not talking to you as... some urrah scum. You know that too, don't you?~ The 
  Fang is quite serious about this.
Erik grimaces at Bailey's words. The stress of holding control over his rage 
  is starting to wear on the Fianna, visibly. ~Don't listen, then. Wallow in 
  the chip on your shoulder. Now, though, you know. And I /will/ rip out your 
  tongue if I hear you speaking the unspeakable on the bawn or caern again.~ 
  With that, the Metis turns his back and stalks toward the steam vents via 
  the center, angry breaths puffing out in the cold air.
You head into the center and heart of the caern.
You head southwest, into the hot steam.

Among the Steam Vents
The ground here is hard and rocky, unlike the greener swath visible through 
  the steam to the north. Small, narrow cracks network the area, steam 
  trickling out of many of them, probably at least partly fed from the stream 
  flowing underground from the east. The warm circulating steam fills the air 
  around here much more thoroughly than most of the rest of the caern, leaving 
  a thin sheen of dampness on almost everything around, and making the rocky 
  ground that much more slippery. Sometimes, a blast of hot steam bursts up 
  from some of the cracks, making the temperature that much the hotter, and 
  that much more uncomfortable.
Through the mists, you can see the caern circling towards the walls of the 
  crevice, north towards the rocky slab; east, you can hear the waterfall; the 
  Wheel's center lies to the northeast. The valley continues towards the 
  southwest.
Obvious exits:
WaterFall  Down the Valley  Center  Rocky Slab  

In the windiest area, Falcon's Wing mutters, ~Way to persuade, my packmate,~ 
  and sighs. ~His general point is still true, though. And if you think 
  /either/ of us - A Fianna metis and his /packmate/ - are going to judge on 
  expternals - you're sadly mistaken.~
With an explosive hiss, a blast of superheated steam tumbles aside a few rocks 
  and billows into the air. Where it meets the cooler mist to the northeast, 
  masses of fog expand outwards into the Caern before they dissipate slowly 
  into the air.
In the windiest area, Bailey looks after Erik as he leaves, radiating hurt 
  like a small sun, and sighs, saying nothing.
Erik drops to the ground, sitting crosslegged on a patch of stone, pulling his 
  knees up to his chest. His form becomes shrouded in the swirlingly hot 
  mists, tension radiating from his hunched form.
In the windiest area, Falcon's Wing looks up at Bailey in mild inquiry.
In the windiest area, Bailey squeezes his eyes shut tight, and shudders.
In the windiest area, Piddles droops his ears a little, looking up at Bailey.
In the windiest area, Falcon's Wing cocks his head slightly. ~Neither of us 
  are trying to hurt you.~
In the windiest area, Bailey chews on his lower lip, and nods slowly.
In the windiest area, Falcon's Wing continues, still looking faintly worried, 
  ~Both of us are just trying to make a point. I think the Lorax would make it 
  better were the moon not this strong, but do you see his point at all?~
In the windiest area, Piddles rises and walks over to Bailey, claws clicking, 
  and stretches up to nuzzle his hand with a very cold, wet nose.
In the windiest area, Bailey takes a slow breath. "I-i do," he whispers, the 
  words having to be forced past the lump in his throat. "I d-do see his 
  point. Just...wantred him to see mine."
In the windiest area, Falcon's Wing says, ~As his packmate, I can safely say 
  that he understood your point. He even agreed with most of it. But, in much 
  the same way you wouldn't directly say 'Lucifer' in a Christian church, he 
  feels you do not say those names here. Synonyms, you use. The story of the 
  Uktena's fall, /that/ should be told and re-told, for it is important, and 
  you tell it well.~
In the windiest area, Falcon's Wing adds, ~And this precaution, it is 
  necessary in general, but only /vital/ here. To my mind, at least.~
In the windiest area, Bailey nods slowly, lowering himself to the ground to 
  sit and skritch his packmate. "I...understand. Thank you."
In the windiest area, Piddles climbs into Bailey's lap in the time-honored 
  tradition of dogs that are just too big to be lap-dogs, and aims all the 
  itchiest spots on his back and neck for Bailey's skritching fingers. 
  Eventually, the big ahroun flops over onto his back so that his packmate can 
  skritch his chest. He heaves a large sigh.
In the windiest area, Falcon's Wing watches Piddles with some faint approval, 
  and adds, ~I am not out to hurt you, Night's Justice.~ Turning away, he pads 
  over to his packmate and flops down next to him, sighing
In the windiest area, Falcon's Wing heads into the center.
At the center, Falcon's Wing heads southwest, into the hot steam.
Falcon's Wing comes into the steam from the caern center.
Falcon's Wing has arrived.
The air seems to become noticeably warmer here, maybe ten degrees Farenheit, 
  and there is a low hum coming from the ground under you.
Erik remains hunched, knees hugged to his chest. He doesn't move as his 
  packmate approaches.
In the windiest area, Bailey nods at Derrick as the Fang, but his eyes betray 
  the feeling that he is not completely convinced by his words. he grunts, and 
  manages a chuckle at the Ahroun's bulk. He skritches as instructed with 
  practiced fingers.
In the windiest area, Piddles makes groaning noises through his nose, sprawled 
  in what would appear to any human as a supremely uncomfortable position over 
  Bailey's lap.
Falcon's Wing whispers "I think I need a drill to reach his mind."
Falcon's Wing senses "Erik nods minutely, his face half-hidden."
In the windiest area, Bailey grins, continuing to skritch.
Falcon's Wing leans into one of the vents.
You sense Falcon's Wing mutters, ~And I don't have the energy to work on his 
  self confidence right now. If the kid expects to have Garou be rational all 
  the damn time, he's got another think coming.~
In the windiest area, Piddles scrambles awkwardly upright and backs off of 
  Bailey's lap.
Falcon's Wing senses "Erik nods again. Now that the confrontation is over, the 
  rage is slipping away into a darkly gloomy mood."
In the windiest area, Bailey smiles at his packmate, and takes to Lupus, 
  walking out of the Caern.
In the windiest area, Piddles wags his tail and perks his ears in the 
  direction of the Guardians and follows his packmate out.
In the windiest area, Piddles heads towards the waterfall.
By the waterfall, Piddles comes along the Wheel from the north.
By the waterfall, Piddles starts along the trail up to the rim of the valley.
Falcon's Wing snorts. But he /is/ one of the people I've... decided needs 
  protecting. And yet he's clueless. It's all very annoying, and the Revel 
  didn't help my brain at all last night.
Erik glances up, his eyes tired. ~Revel?~
Falcon's Wing flicks an ear. Not the main one. Just going out and whupping on 
  things around here.
Erik mutters, "Oh."
Falcon's Wing thinks we have to stick here in the mud for the hospital thing. 
  Not that I'm complaining, I don't want to /ever/ have to see the black place 
  again.
Erik shudders. And, with that, shifts back to human form.
Falcon's Wing cocks an eyebrow slightly, from the ground.
By the waterfall, Wolf-Bear lies half-awake by the water's edge, a wounded 
  bloody mass. You know, the usual.
Erik sighs quietly and rubs at his eyes, shoulders slumping as the last of the 
  rage drains away.
Falcon's Wing stirs slightly. You ok?
Erik says, quietly, "No."
Falcon's Wing noses his leg. The stubborn poeple getting to you?
Erik says, dully, "Yes. No." He rubs at his eyes again. "I hate it when I get 
  that angry," he mutters. "I always feel depressed afterwards."
Falcon's Wing generally feels... Let down. Which is not quite the same thing.
By the waterfall, Wolf-Bear grunts, finally awake, and struggles to his feet. 
  He looks over curiously at the conversation going on across the way.
Erik makes a vague sound of acknowledgement and gazes fixedly at the ground 
  not far from him.
Falcon's Wing whurfs a quiet greeting to the Talon, and remains companionably 
  next to his packmate.
By the waterfall, Wolf-Bear shakes out his ruff, wishes he didn't do just 
  that, then slowly meanders his way over to where the others sit.