First Lessons

[hazlogs]

27 July 2001

Forgotten Church Basement
        This basement is only partly below ground level, and there are windows 
  evenly spaced on the walls, right below the ceiling level. The main part of 
  it is a large open area with a small kitchen in one corner and a large, 
  ratty carpet in the center, covering the cement floor. There is a rather 
  large window in the kitchen; it looks as though it might actually open onto 
  the street. On the wall opposite the kitchen is a large bin, and there are 
  folding tables along the wall perpendicular to it. On the other wall there 
  are a few folding chairs, many fewer than one would expect from the number 
  of tables.
        A hallway next to the kitchen leads off to two offices and what once 
  might have been a classroom.

Kaz is asleep in a corner, though just by how fast she rises to look at 
  Junior, it's clear it's a very alert sort of sleep.

Malachi prowls restlessly around the basement, close to the walls. As Junior 
  comes down he stops long enough to make a face, then goes back to prowling.

Junior smiles, and nods to Kaz. "Hiya." He glances towards Malachi. "Evenin', 
  Mal."

Malachi shows Junior his middle finger and continues stalking along the far 
  wall.

Kaz mutters, "Hi," and shakes her head faintly. "So kid, do you mind if I 
  talk at you?"

Junior shakes his head, and goes to get himself a beer. Popping the top, he 
  comes back and settles near Kaz.

Malachi reaches the corner, turns, and slumps into a crouch, back to the wall. 
  "Whatever."

Kaz says, "Right. So did you wonder, while starin' at Junior in confusion 
  yestiddy, why the fuck werewolves exist in the first place? I did. Well, I 
  mean, not yesterday, but when I first figured shit out. Well, basically, 
  when the world started gettin' attacked by shit, the spirit of the earth -- 
  that's Gaia, She cried out for help. Cried out f'some champions. An', well, 
  She got some. Us. Actually, she made us, but someone 'crying out for 
  champions' sounds better'n just goin', "And then she made herself some 
  werewolves." Anyways, we been fightin' the good fight f'thousands of years 
  now. An' it ain't just a physical fight, neither. But the physical's 
  sometimes what we're good at."

Junior smiles, and swallows of gulp of his beer.

Malachi focusses on Kaz with an intensity that suggests that, for the moment, 
  he's trying to pretend that Junior doesn't exist. With a frown, he asks, 
  "Attacked by what?"

Kaz says, "Well, the Garou, we think the world's made up of three forces, 
  three types of spirits. Chaotic creation, order, an' destruction. When 
  they're in balance, life's fine. But when they ain't, it ain't, an' the 
  forces of destruction, they went wild. An'... OK, imagine your worst 
  nightmare, right? Make it ten times worse? That's what one of these forces 
  of destruction is like. An' Gaia, she couldn't handle it.'

Malachi moodily chews on a ragged thumbnail. "Why not?"

Kaz shrugs. "'Cause basically, She's made up of these three forces, an' so 
  /She/ was unbalanced, when destruction got unbalanced, an' she wasn't as 
  strong. An', well, she wasn't used t'havin' to fight. So she made folks that 
  was particularly good at it."

"Werewolves." Malachi spits out the bit of fingernail.

Junior nods quietly, taking another gulp of beer. "Werewolves."

Malachi flicks a sour glance at Junior, grimaces, then looks back toward Kaz.

Kaz says, "Yeah, werewolves. Us. An' you. Part of why you been thinkin' the 
  world sucks an' you been so angry lately is because, well, you got the Rage 
  in you. The Rage that makes you a better fighter. But it makes life hard, 
  when you're about to change, 'cause it all dams up, waitin' til it's got a 
  chance t'express itself."

Malachi starts gnawing on a different fingernail, absorbing the information 
  without a break in his brooding expression. "Oh."

Kaz allows, "Of course, part of it's because the world /does/ suck, but 
  anyways."

Junior snorts softly at Kaz, stifling a smile.

Malachi wrinkles his nose. "Huhn."

Blithely, Kaz goes on, "An' the thing is--" She's busily creating a small 
  fireball in one hand -- "We ain't /just/ brute force fighters. We can also 
  do cool stuff. Gifts that Gaia's given us, to make the whole fight easier." 
  She tosses the fireball a few feet in front of her, and then, once Malachi's 
  gotten a good look at it, a foot of so of water appears in midair, and then 
  splashes down on top of the fireball. *fssht*

Junior grins, taking a long swig from his beer.

Malachi's eyes widen slowly at the fireball, then twitches, jerking back as 
  it's hurled, then abruptly doused. Settling down, he regards Kaz with 
  somewhat sharper interest; the little display seems to have impressed him. 
  "Huh."

Kaz manages to look both embarrassed and slightly gleeful. "Yeah, everyone's 
  got shit like that, although most of 'em aren't quite so, um, flashy. You 
  ahroun types, you can make people fall on their faces, sometimes, which is a 
  damn useful thing when you're stuck fightin' 'em. 's kinda fun, watchin' 
  ahrouns fightin' together, an' a buttload of whoever they're fightin' all 
  fallin' down at once."

Malachi chews on his fingernail again. "Okay... Magic warrior werewolves 
  fighting... stuff."

"Basically. I know it sounds pretty fuckin' stupid, when it comes right down 
  to it, but that's its core." Kaz shrugs. "But it's my life. It's all I've 
  known. An' I wouldn't give it up f'/nothin'/."

Junior nods quietly at Kaz's words.

Malachi spits out another bit of fingernail. "I guess fireballs are cool," the 
  kid allows.

Kaz shrugs. "I think so. Oh, Junior, do me a favor, shift into glabro, will 
  you? Glabro," she explains, "That's the near man form. The ugly one. I got 
  another thing I gotta show you, kinda so you know f'future use." The metis 
  rummages in her pocket and tosses a jackknife at the big ahroun. "Visual 
  demonstration again, hey?"

Junior nods to Kaz, and shifts upwards.
Junior contorts and blurs as he is transformed.
Junior shifts into Glabro form.
A huge man, well over six and half feet tall, and bulky. Steroid user, 
  probably. His face is rough, very feral-looking, and he's got a good growth 
  of beard starting. All in all, not someone to meet in a dark alley.
Junior catches the knife, and opens it. "This is one of the nice things about 
  not being in your birthform." He holds his palm up towards Malachi...then 
  runs the edge of the knife down it in a quick slice. The cut starts to bleed 
  for a few moments...then the bleeding slows and the edges of the cut slowly 
  knit together until the wound closes, leaving only the blood remaining.

Malachi's brow furrows; reluctantly, he turns his eyes toward Junior, his 
  frown reappearing. He pays attention, though, eyes narrowing at the 
  regenerative display. "Huh."

Junior gets a rag and wipes off the knife and tosses it back to Kaz, then 
  wipes the blood off his hand. He holds it up to Malachi again, showing that 
  it's completely healed.

"A lotta shit can kill us, especially if it hurts us real damn quick. But if 
  we ain't, like, gotten incinerated or eaten, or something, we can heal from 
  a /fuck/ of a lot of shit." That's Kaz, a font of cursing. And information. 
  "You can still get scars, but it's a lot harder. Anyways, I mention it 
  because it's somethin' you gotta know right off, 'cause people take it for 
  granted." She catches the knife, and sticks it back in her pocket.

Malachi goes 'huh' again and turns back to Kaz. He's paying attention now, 
  sharp attention. "But not when human?"

"Yeah," agrees Kaz, "Not when y'all're human. Every other form, but not human. 
  It's part of why makin' sure we're a secret's so hard."

Perhaps the most amazing thing is that the kid's gone several minutes now 
  without cursing. "Why keep it a secret if you kick ass so hard?"

Junior looks as though he wants to speak...but keeps quiet and lets Kaz handle 
  it for now.

"It's one've our laws, see." Kaz recites it, eyes rolling slightly at its 
  formality. "The Veil Shall Not Be Lifted, which is to say, shut the fuck up. 
  There's a lot of reasons behind it, though. F'one thing, we freak everyone 
  out, in the warform -- that's the big one, where you look like a fuckin' 
  werewolf from beyond Venus, with big ol' pointy teeth. An' f'another, we 
  can't get any fuckin /work/ done if we're havin' to explain to the humans 
  what's goin' on alla time. So. We jus' don' tell 'em. Simpler."

Malachi shifts his weight, looking dissatisfied with the explanation. "So you 
  sneak around an' hide inna dump?"

Junior shakes his head, speaking up finally. "We do a lot of fighting. We just 
  don't let the humans know."

Kaz looks around. "Well, this ain't really a /dump/, it's just old. But-- we 
  don't really sneak around. We just don' show th' humans. And, also, a lot of 
  the stuff we fight is stuff humans can't even get to see. It's in the spirit 
  world, and before you even /start/ to stare at me like I'm on crack, it does 
  exist, and I'll show it to you -- but til you can shift on your own, I can't 
  take you."

Malachi rolls his eyes a bit. More than a bit. "Werewolves an' magic, an' some 
  big secret war, an' I'm not s'posed to believe in some other world?" His 
  tone is impatient. "Fine, okay. I'm not /stupid/."

Kaz looks penitent. "You'd be fuckin' surprised at what people'll try and 
  deny. Anyways, yeah, so a lot of the shit happens there."

"Are there vampires, too?" Mal asks, almost demandingly. "Stuff like that?"

Junior sighs. "Yeah. There are. And tons of other shit, too."

Upstairs there's the whirr and clatter of wheels along aged, chipped 
  floorboards-- quiet at first, then loud and louder still, before coming to 
  an abrupt halt. The basement door's tugged open and a sandy-haired skinny 
  girl thumps her way down the steps. Her hair's curled about in a crazy 
  tangle and a truly ancient set of binoculars dangle from a strap about her 
  neck. She stops a few steps from the bottom, blinks at the folk gathered. 
  "Ooops--" She grins. "Hey, hi."

[Anneka]
Anneka is just about five feet tall, a skinny creature with curly, sandy hair 
  that bobs about in a tangled mane more often than it does not. Her face is 
  slightly rounded, her eyes large and green over a splash of freckles and a 
  small nose. She's in her early teens or thereabouts, her voice high and 
  clear. She's got a t-shirt on, black and oversized with a white star on the 
  front, and big, baggy jeans that almost hide scuffed, blocky shoes beneath 
  their frayed cuffs. Your usual sort of urchin-- unremarkable save for the 
  rage that rushes beneath her pale skin, for the way she sometimes looks like 
  she's just holding on to the wolf she is.

Junior looks over, and smiles. "Heya."

"Yeah. Though I don' think there's a lot of 'em here. An' there's also mages, 
  an' other kindsa shifters." At sight of Anneka, she brightens. "Hey, you. 
  Anneka, this here's..." She pauses. "Kid, what the fuck's your name? Anyway, 
  Anneka's another cub, too."

Malachi jerks abruptly to his feet at the new arrival -- the kid hasn't 
  entirely gone un-twitchy. He peers at Anneka with a frown before thrusting 
  his hands into his pockets. "It's Malachi," he tells Kaz.

Anneka grins and ducks her head a bit before setting herself down on a step. 
  Her skateboard gets propped up alongside her, an electric blue wheel 
  stirring at the air like the paw of a peculiar, small animal. Malachi gets a 
  curious glance, a sunny smile. "Hey, cool. An' hi, too."

"Cool. I'm Kaz, if you hadn't caught that. I don' like callin' people kid 
  anyways." She's watching Malachi's reactions to Anneka with interest.

Malachi, suddenly restless, grunts something that sounds vaguely like a hello 
  and paces barefoot to the opposite corner of the wall before crouching down 
  again. "Okay," he says toward Kaz. "So... werewolves, a secret war, some 
  other world wit' spirits innit, vampires and stuff, magic spells, and, uh... 
  Guy-whatever."

The metis agrees, "Gaia. If you want, I could maybe tell you some more've the 
  laws, since a lot've us folks'll get impatient, in a 'oh, good, let's hit 
  him now' kinda way, if you dunno 'em."

Malachi frowns. "How many laws?"

Kaz says, "Thirteen. Ain't so bad, they're all like, miniscule."

Anneka's apparent attention drifts a bit to the binoculars. She sets them on 
  her lap, and prods at one of the large, rounded lenses-- There's a crack 
  through one that gets the cub's eye. She tilts her head. "Yeah. Kinda like 
  'breathin's good'. Kin'a important, but easy, too."

Malachi pulls a face nonetheless and starts chewing on the dead skin around 
  his left thumbnail. "What are they?"

Kaz says, again in that quoting kind of way, "'Garou Shall Not Mate with 
  Garou.' An' this one, again, has a reason. Two Garou fuckin'll give you 
  what's called a metis. We -- I'm a metis, see -- we're all deformed in some 
  kinda way, an' we can't have kids. So, y'know, keep y'hormones t'y'self, 
  pretty much, or find a Kin -- someone who's related t'us, can know about us, 
  but can't shift."

Malachi's brow furrows; he gives Kaz a sharper look, squinting through his 
  glasses. "How are you deformed?" Blunt, isn't he?

Kaz shifts, slowly, upwards into glabro. "The ears are fucked, an' I got 
  weirdass eyes."
[Kaz, Glabro]
        Her name isn't quite accurate. Her ears are pointing 
  up. Those big, bat-wing like ears that, if she didn't smell like a Gaian, 
  would remind a lot of people of some Black Spiral Dancers. Of course, given 
  Garou, some people don't bother to find out, first. 
         Other than her ears, she's relatively boring. She's very sturdy -- 
  burly might be a better description. About 6'11", it's the kind of burly 
  that's got a lot of muscle to it -- it's just not well defined muscle. 
         Actually, she's not entirely boring. Her mop of mousy brown hair is 
  long enough to mostly obscure her eyes, which, since her eyes are remarkably 
  weird, makes sense. They're almost yellow, and don't look quite human. They 
  almost look like cat's eyes, but they're not quite the right shape for that. 
  The rest of her face isn't offensive, just boring. The nose is a bit big -- 
  maybe it's been broken, or maybe she was born that way. Makeup, it's clear, 
  is of very little use to this person. 
         "Battered" would describe her choice in clothing quite well. 
  Straining to fit over her figure are a black leather jacket, an almost new 
  t-shirt, blue jeans, and doc martens. All slightly older than God, 
  apparently. 
         She looks dirty in the way someone who's just gotten out of a long 
  day's hard physical labor looks dirty, and it's clear she at least tries to 
  stay clean.

Malachi startles visibly as Kaz shifts forms, his eyes fixing on the metis' 
  batwing-ears. He jerks halfway to his feet and then freezes, a look of 
  mingled rage and disgust flashing -- almost instinctively -- across his face. 
  For that moment the cub balances on a thin edge of reflex -- lips pulling 
  away from teeth, fingers crooking into claw-shapes -- and then he sits down 
  again quickly, with a grunt.

Junior arches an eyebrow at Malachi's reaction, and hmms softly.

Anneka leans forward, just an inch, her elbows resting on her knees, her 
  distant eyes sharp with abrupt clarity. She watches Malachi for the time it 
  takes him to calm, then glances to Kaz.

Kaz watches the cub with much interest. "So," she says, shifting back down, 
  "That looks familiar, huh? An' you don' know why, neither? Or'd you see 'em 
  in dreams an' stuff? Anyways." She shrugs. "Don' matter why they're 
  familiar, it just matters what they look like. An' what they look like, see, 
  is some of our enemy's. Black Spiral Dancers. Garou who've gone to the Wyrm. 
  It's gotten me attacked more'n once..." She trails off.

The doors to the basement opens up and Alicia heads down the steps. She's 
  dressed in her Urban streetware, tight shiny pants and a tight fitted to her 
  chest spandex workout bra. "Yo, Joester? Ya down 'ere?"

[Alicia]
Here we have Alicia Jackson, a young woman who looks around the age of 18/19 
  or so. When in truth, she just turned 16, but that hard look in her eyes 
  could easily be mistaken for older. Slender in form, her body is composed of 
  lean, compacted muscle. She looks quick, but not very strong. Her eyes are a 
  dark brown, curious and wandering, lit up playfully most of the time. She 
  stands of average height, perhaps about 5'6 or so, carrying herself well 
  when she moves. Her flesh is lightly tanned, kissed by the sun from the many 
  years of running with the gangs on the street. Four ear rings adorn her left 
  ear, two more upon the right, composed of small, goldeny hoops. The 
  Galliard's hair falls down just past her shoulders. Once brown and red 
  streaked to those who's seen her before. Now, pale blonde with slightly 
  darkened roots. 
Her clothing consists of a pair of baggy, over sized camoflauge pants. Black, 
  green, and brown patterns splashed along the fabric. A tight fitting sports 
  bra hug her upper frame, revealing the curves of her upper body, flat 
  stomach and lean arms. She wears a golden hoop in her navel. Knee high boots 
  travel up her legs, firmly laced in each hole. Finishing off, she has a 
  worn, dusty old black trench coat which hangs just below her knees. Her 
  tongue ring is almost always seen, clicking in thought, or when she speaks 
  with that ghetto accent of hers.

Malachi shifts his weight uncomfortably, then gets up and starts pacing along 
  the wall again, hands in his pockets like it's the only way to keep them 
  still. Alicia gets a glance, then a sudden, more intent look. He stops. 
  "She's a werewolf /too/?"

Junior smiles, and waves. "Hey, Alicia."

The metis glances up to the Gaian. "He ain't here right now." Her gaze trails 
  back down to Mal. "Uh. Yeah. You seen her before, or's it just she kinda 
  hot?"

Anneka turns about to look up the stairs, cants her head, then scoots over 
  enough to give Alicia room on her way down the stairs. The sandy-haired cub 
  looks amused, a corner of her mouth turned up in a lopsided smile. "Hey, 
  'licia."

"In th' park," Mal tells Kaz, then resumes pacing along the wall; when he 
  reaches the corner, he turns around and starts walking back.

Junior nods to Mal. "Not surprising then. Lot of us hang around the park. 
  Means normal people don't like to hang around it as much."

"Maybe its cuz' ah'm kinda hot." Alicia grins as she walks by Mal, ruffling up 
  his hair. "Hey there Chain-Smoker." She teases. "Looks like my gut was right 
  'bout ya, an so was Joey. So, th' lil shit pop yet?" She asks, glancing over 
  to Kaz and Anneka, waving to each of them with a wiggle of her fingers.

Junior sighs. "Oh, yeah. Fortunately, it was someplace empty so no one saw."

Mildly enough, Kaz asks, "Can we not call him a little shit, please?" Hey, 
  look, protectiveness.

"I'll /try/ my best Kaz. First lil experience with him tho' didn't go so well. 
  Never heard anyone cuss that much next to my step dad." Her eyes flash for a 
  moment before Alicia pushes it away. "What -is- his name?"

Malachi jerks his head away from Alicia's ruffly hand -- not that his new 'do 
  can be ruffled much -- and retreats to the far end of the room, scowling.

"Ask him, Pancakes," Anneka says. "He's, like, standin' there."

Junior nods at Anneka's words.

"Yah. He can, y'know, speak f'himself." Then she grins. "What, you've known me 
  five months or whatever, an' /his/ swearin' bugs you? Jeez, I gotta hang 
  around you more, obviously."

Alicia clears her throat a bit and glances over to the kid, raising up a brow. 
  "Well, if we can do this without every other word being 'fuck' or 'stupid 
  bitch'. Sure.. Whats your name?"

"Malachi." The kid's definitely starting to get agitated; one fist strays out 
  of his pocket and starts hitting the wall -- lightly, but steadily. "Malachi 
  Gardner."

"Hey Malachi.. I'm Alicia Jackson. Its nice to meet you." The Gaian leans 
  against a wall and offers him a smile.

Kaz looks between the two. "So. Yeah. Ok. You want more, Malachi?"

Malachi grunts. "Yeah, fine, whatever." His fist continues to bang regularly 
  at the wall, and whatever half-civilized mood he was in before seems to be 
  vanishing. Fast. If it's not already gone.

(Alas, little else was taught that night.)