6/17/2004

05:41 PM
Logfile from GarouMUSH.

Converted Warehouse - Shadow's End(#3589RAJh)

 Track lighting along the 30 foot skylighted ceiling in this spacious complex accents the smaller sconces along the walls every 10 feet or so, keeping the entire area adequately lit, even while allowing shadows to play in odd areas during the night. Over all, the entire effect is dark and post-modern in places, warm and inviting in others. On one side of the lower floor, a spiral staircase leads up to a mezzanine that stretches along one entire side of the place. Two suites with separate baths can be found there, nearly a perfect match to the two downstairs. One of the downstairs suites is larger than the rest, though all of them seem excellently appointed. The end of the apartment nearest the entrance contains a large rec room with a comfortable-looking sofa, several leather recliners and a high-end entertainment system. The other end of the apartment contains an impressive workout room, complete with free weights, and other assorted fitness equipment. The center of the lower floor contains an open kitchen area. A sprawling, dark-grey counter surrounds a set of expensive-looking burnished appliances. Charcoal grey carpeting covers the floor and huge, vertical blinds hang near the workout area, covering windows that stretch halfway to the ceiling and overlook the river.
Contents:
Jarred
Obvious exits:
Elevator  

Jarred's had a long day. Still, he walks into Shadow's End like a king. For that is what he is. A king among the other tribes. Never has anyone been so convinced of the superiority of their tribe. He exudes the confidence of a leader. Once he's turned on the lighting, he turns to face the elevator and the boy emerging from it.

Kenneth is far from carrying any kingly charisma as he enters the abode. The youth's bag held on his shoulder with his right hand, and left stuck in the pocket of his warmups, he examines the place with a few turns of his head. "This all yours?" he asks quietly, feeling very much like an intruder who isn't quite as used to such high end stuff.

Jarred nods. "It is. But I've devoted it to my tribe. This is our safehouse... our headquarters, so to speak. Any of my tribe are welcome here at any time."

Kenneth suppresses the whistle of admiration that wants to be let out. "It's a good deal nicer than that cave," he murmurs, daring to take another few steps in. Then he turns to face the elder. "So, why'd you bring me here then? You know it's about time that my family's going to start looking."
Jarred turns and regards the youth quietly for a moment. "I suppose it's a test of sorts. I wanted to see how you'd react..." He looks up at the stars through the skylights briefly. "How close are you to your parents?"

"They're ah, they're church folk," Kenneth replies, sticking his proverbial toe in the waters. "One family under God and all. Real ones are gone." He dare not say more, but it's evident he doesn't like going back to those memories. "They're good to me though. That day I got mugged by that punk..." His hand reaches up, fingers touching at the now nonexistant marks, "...they came and got me from the hospital. Weren't angry. Just, worried." He sighs and looks away towards the expensive couches.

Jarred nods. "Can I get you something to drink or eat? I've got about everything you could imagine here." He gestures toward the kitchen/dining area. "I guess I wanted you to see this place before you made a decision as to whether you want to live in the farmhouse or not. You're likely to have more interaction with those like you at the farmhouse, but there's a certain safety and convenience about living in the city as well."

Kenneth shakes off the black cloud gathering above him as he is presented with the decision. A choice? He looks around again, black eyes soaking in all the decor, the layout, all things necessary to avoid being pinned with ignorance of where things are and where things ought to be. "Water," he answers in reply to the first. "And... you got a nice place here." It's not any particularly set decision. "But either way, I'm not allowed to go out on my own am I?"

Jarred smiles and walks off to get some crystal-clear water from the fridge. "Not just yet. You'll be able to leave on your own when you're able to control the physical reactions of your body to emotional stress." He pours the water into a glass, returning to the living room area with it and holding it out. "You really can't imagine the wonders that are in store for you. I mean, if werewolves exist, then what doesn't? Maybe werewolves have magical powers that are bestowed upon them by Mother Nature. Perhaps there are even other fantastical creatures out there, lurking just outside of view where humanity will always miss and marginalize them into storybook figments."

Kenneth inclines his head slightly, but doesn't say much at all, letting the galliard extoll on the virtues of the Garou. Slipping ever closer to the workout machines, his hand comes out of its pocket and touches the cold metal of the weights.

Jarred turns to face the lad again. "I suppose it's up to you. There are varying ways for you to be trained. There is the physical side, of course." He nods toward the weights. "This would be a superb place for you to work out. However, the farmhouse would be better if you need development socially as a garou."

Kenneth quickly takes his hand off from the machine as soon as Jarred comments about him working out. Gaze going to the galliard, he swallows once and backs off. "It's nice of you to keep telling me all this stuff. But I don't remember any changing or howling at the moon, so, whether I believe you or not is still up in the air, y'know." The boy wets his lips, expression setting into a dubious, examining manner.

Jarred nods. "You're right of course... there's no way for you to know that you might at any point change into this..." He shifts smoothly into his crinos form. And a magnificent crinos he is, rippling and black as pitch.

Kenneth tenses visibly as Jarred shifts again right before him, gazing way up at the head of the beast. He takes a step back. "But you do it at will," he says in shaded observation, jawline working itself.

Jarred shifts back. "Now I do, yes. But when I was only a cub, I had trouble controlling myself. Any time I became angry, I had to fight to keep from shifting."

Kenneth blinks at the term. Cub? His brow creases together again, the disbelief that he is such a creature still overshadowing anything else in his mind and making him ignore the instinct. "So why didn't I change any other time before? I've been angry a lot of times."

Jarred inclines his head, an eerily canine gesture as it happens. "A fair enough questions. For each cub it is different. Some cubs change for the first time very early. Others don't seem to bloom until later. One thing is almost universally true, and that is that the first change is usually sparked by a traumatic, or extremely stressful situation... That situation happened to you the other night."

Kenneth snorts and turns from the man, an uncomfortable feeling constricting his chest. He still can't remember, and likely won't ever realize what happened that evening. "And how am I supposed to learn to... control this?" The boy's eyes go to the window, his gaze sullen and his voice rather cold.

Jarred says "You will be taught." his voice is neutral, matter-of-fact."

Kenneth jerks his head to the side, eyeing the galliard over his shoulder as his breath quickens slightly from what he feels is an authoritative tone. "You can't /make/ me learn anything," he shoots back, voice equally matter-of-fact, but not nearly as neutral.

The galliard chuckles. "Of course I can't. And you can't make yourself *not* learn. It is inevitable that you will learn to integrate both halves of your nature. We will simplt make sure you don't kill anyone in the process."

Kenneth grits his teeth, like the galliard's refusal to be angered is making the cub all the more frustrated. He turns around fully to face the man, dark eyes glittering as he meets him gaze for gaze.

Jarred winks sagely as he stares into the young man's eyes.

Jarred says "Something wrong?"

Kenneth continues to extend that silence for sometime, as he stalls on what to say. Then with a sniff, he breaks the staredown with a shift of his eyes away from the galliard. "I still think you're bat-shit crazy," he growls out, hand tightening around the strap of his bag.

Jarred shakes his head slowly. "I'm more sane than you can know. I've seen a lot. I've seen a hundred cubs like you struggling to accept the unacceptable, grating against what they are. Someday you might even be able to beat me in a staredown like you just tried to do."

"What're you talkin' about?" Kenneth grumbles, layering over his anger by tossing it into a bottle and corking it. "It's all well and good that /you/ are a werewolf, or Gah-roo, or whatever you call yourself. But you can't prove that /I'm/ one. I don't sprout claws or fur or howl."

Jarred walks forward, his eyes turning even darker than usual. He draws to within a couple of fee of the boy and stops, looking down at him. Would you like to change again? Right here? Right now?"

Kenneth doesn't retreat at the approach of the man, willfully standing his ground in stubborn denial. "It won't work," he growls out from clenched teeth, black eyes matching Jarred's again, obviously showing the swirl of anger that resides within.

Jarred smiles arrogantly. "But it will." An arm flies out, lightning fast, and the back of Jarred's hand connects with Kenneth's cheek, a stinging slap. "It will because you're too weak to resist the beast within."

Kenneth's head turns at the slap, and a surprised look flashes onto his face. Disbelief that he was just now, struck. But as he turns his eyes back onto the man, the right lid twitching a little, he doesn't dare strike back. As if he won't give the man the pleasure of seeing him angry to the point of violence.

Jarred laughs again at the boy's expression. Grabbing Kenneth's shirt he yanks the boy forward and glares into his eyes. "Pathetic. You would prove your strength to me by denying that which makes you strong?"

The tennis bag slips off as the boy is jerked close, and topples onto its side with a light thud against the floor. Kenneth's hands come up to grab at the elder's hands just beneath the palms, fingernails digging in. The boy doesn't answer immediately, but his black eyes glare and burn in obvious hate. "I wouldn't give you the pleasure," he hisses. The cobra flares its hood.

Jarred's grins at that and releases the boy, backing up a step or two. He shakes his head with obvious relish. "Outstanding.. Outstanding. You're a Shadow Lord, all right." He turns his back on Kenneth, walking back toward the kitchen. "You will learn nonetheless. We'll never give up. The more you wish it to be false, the truer it will be."

Kenneth breathes a little more sharply as he is released, his hands too letting go. His nails must have left slight marks in the galliard's wrists. But, it isn't to say the cub is the victor, as he had been expecting an actual fight between them. Instead he just sizzles in place, boiling and unsatisfied inside. "Whatever," he growls. "You can't prove that I'm any werewolf, so I don't see why you bother." Again, trying to get a rise, trying to anticipate the elder's reaction to his taunt.

"You think, perhaps," The Elder intones "..that even though you were able to control your anger when I pressed you that I will not be able to control my own at your feeble taunting?" He waves a hand dismissively. "If you feel the need to be stubborn, by all means be stubborn. I can afford to be patient. So can the others of your tribe." He looks back at the boy, his dark eyes still burning slightly. "You have two options, and two only. Your first option is to accept what I am telling you and allow me the opportunity to prove it with your cooperation... Your second option is to resist until you can no longer summon the strength to do so. In so doing you will come to hate me more and more and the emptiness within you will grow until the beast consumes you." He smiles. "But know this. If you don't eventually come around, we will put you down as surely as a mother wolf kills those of her litter that cannot survive in the wild." There is no trace of humor or non-seriousness in his voice. It is a statement of fact.

Kenneth narrows his eyes at the last part of his statement, sensing the gravity of the words. Dark eyes kept riveted on the elder, he curls his lips back in an all too feral sneer. "And you'll have to do better than just talkin' at me about your oh so great 'tribe' like you're the creators of the fuckin' universe."

Jarred smiles and nods. "I understand your feelings on the matter. You're not difficult to read, Kenneth. "I assure you, however. I have no need to do better. Or worse. I need only wait. I see now that yours will be a difficult transition." He takes a deep breath. "Keep your anger close to your breast, then. You'll need it. You're going back to Thunder Cave until you have once again taken the form of the wolf. Once you have, and once you tell me to my face that you believe in what you are, you will be given more freedom. Believe me when I say this... I am prepared to keep you in that cave for a VERY long time. If you bite the hand that is extended in a spirit of family and friendship, then that same hand will strike you down from your position of pride and will hold your nose to the dusty ground until you beg for relief."

Kenneth takes a step back with an glare that would no doubt be accompanied by laid back ears and raised hackles. But here, in this loft one on one, plenty of space... the boy seems rather confident that if anything's going to happen, it's not going to happen without his agreement. Especially being dragged back out to the woods. Now that he's here in the city, he doesn't have that intention of being cooped up in the wild again. But all of this he merely thinks. He straightens up, hands held tensely at his sides. Waiting for the elder to come at him.

Jarred says "Oh, you're right, of course..." He smiles. "I could never get you out of the city conscious. I'd need to incapacitate you first." The elder takes a step toward Kenneth. "So what shall it be, boy? Beaten senseless by a hulking beast? Or a simple acknowledgement of who and what you are? Imprisonment, or the Freedom to explore your own powers with my blessing?""

A muscle on his neck twitches at the step. Every part of the boy looks coiled in anticipation, his eyes completing the dam that is holding everything back. But oh, that grin from the elder that grates on him like sharkskin! Kenneth's breathing grows even more irregular, as he slowly takes a step back to recreate the initial distance between him and Jarred. Again, he says nothing.

Jarred takes another step forward. Then another. He begins to enlarge until his impressive glabro form, rippling with muscles, fills out the expensive, loose-fitting clothing the Elder is wearing. His voice is a rumble, but the grin is now utterly evil in its sheer delight at the boy's misfortune. "A pity. We didn't have to go about this quite so painfully. But sometimes the young are too stupid to take the path of least resistance." His fists clench.

Kenneth watches as the galliard grows into a bigger, more powerful form. That doesn't serve to lessen his nerve any, but it does make him hype up his alertness to the movement of such a large opponent. He takes another couple of steps back, this time more towards the side of the area that's closer to the elevator. No way he's going to make the first move. Not when he's not sure just how skilled and how fast the galliard may be. He's never fought a werewolf before - Firsting notwithstanding.

Something unusual happens then. Something even the most highly trained aikido warrior would have no defense against; the rage of a garou. The Galliard gives a single, hypnotically satisfied smirk and then becomes a blur. In less than a second, he is gone. Before the cub can react, huge arms burst from behind him and wrap themselves around his chest in a crushing grip.

That Kenneth can't compare to the strength of the Glabro is an understatement. He only has a split second's worth of time to express his dismay, and before he can even say anything in reaction the air is quickly squeezed out of him in a rapid whoosh. His own arms come up only halfway, immobilized by the bear hug from behind and futilely straining to get a grip on any part of the galliard's arms. Fighting against the sudden burning pain of lack of oxygen, the cub's instinct to survive kicks into high gear and the elder holding him can feel the shift right as it happens. The sound of bones and muscle stretching, tendons and ligaments snapping into place and the pained struggles of the boy to cry out in pain through an empty set of vocals all happen within a second or two. The headphones stretch to their fullest flexibility and with a violent jerk of his head, are sent flying off. Before he knows it, the beast has ripped its way back out of the bottle, and the glabro's tight grip manages to hold onto just a small section the boy's warform.

Jarred bellows. "Believe it now, Shadow Lord? You.. ARE.. A... GAROU!!" With a heave, he pushes forward, sending the newly minted crinos forward to the floor before he can get his bearings. He then shifts to his own war form.

Kenneth isn't coordinated enough or orientated enough to figure out what and who and where and hunhs as he's sent snout-first into the floor. But at least he knows enough by instinct to tuck and roll when he's falling, and that he does, clawed hands smacking into the floor and immediately folding to lessen the impact. But as the cub comes to a stop, he remains lying there in the crinos, mind racing as everything that his senses tell him come in extreme impact. Scents, sight, touch, hearing, even the taste of the air as he rasps for breath pounds on him the reality of his nature. He can't even reply, but his jaws work up and down, futilely trying to form words that only a human can produce.

Jarred doesn't advance on the other, maintaining a distance while Kenneth takes in the newness of his form. He is ready for a fight, but hopeful that it will not come to that. He gives a muted roar as he watches a cub become a crinos.

And if there was any other expression on the wolven face of the cub, it's /still/ disbelief. Given the incapacity to speak, the ears on the crinos cub twitch reflexively, as do the other sections of his limbs and body. Once he's calmed down enough not to up and panic as the world decides to go crazy again on him, the cub's golden eyes shift to gaze in the direction of the elder. Though he remembers seeing Jarred's form change, what he eyes see, what he hears with the rustling of fur, and what he smells of the elder's scent and everything from the city before is all new and unfamiliar. The cub again struggles to say something, but is unable to with the large fangs and inflexibility of the tongue. Finding all this out, he forces a roll back upright, at stays there on the floor, kneeling on hands and digitgrade knees.

Jarred slowly melts into his homid form, his clothes reappearing as if they had grown out of his very skin. His face is slightly downcast. There might actually be a mote of pity in them. Perhaps. "You are now in the form of rage, Kenneth. You will not be able to speak as humans speak. Eventually you will learn the Mother Tongue... the language Garou use to speak to each other. Look upon your own body. Feel the strength in it. Swallow your fear and embrace it. This is you. That is your very own body. The same body you have possessed since you were born. All of your life, you have had this potential locked away."

Kenneth looks directly at the elder Garou, the sweep of his ears back showing his still apparent confusion at the whole situation. The power he feels in his muscles is incredible. The feeling of being... alive. It's more than anything he was prepared for. And yet all he can do is kneel there, dumb as an ox. He can't even ask how to change back.

Jarred walks forward slowly, maintaining a respectful distance from the deadly machine. His voice is soothing and persuasive, brotherly. "This will pass. You can become a man again any time you wish. You are not trapped in this form, any more than you were trapped in your birth form before I made you switch. You have but to think of what you want to be come and allow the power within you to seep into your limbs. Feel it course through your veins, washing the fur away, washing the scents away, washing the burning hatred within you away, far away.

Kenneth pants loudly still, no longer fighting the losing battle of denying the wolf, but looking as if he had spent years locked in its grasp, caged with it behind bars. The cub listens with a predator's stare at the galliard, though every word is quiet and smooth, sounds to him loud and clear. His eyes slit together as he concentrates on what to do. Let the power go? Give it up? After all this time, the beastly warform had taken so much to bring out, and now he must let it free from an invisible grasp. And yet he does. The fur waves slightly as he shrinks, disappearing back into his skin. Bones and muscle realign with the softest of inward, muffled sounds. When Kenneth reopens his eyes and sucks in for breath, it is once more through human nostrils and mouth. The boy's naked form still twitches periodically, swathed only in a few clinging shreds of his former clothing.

Jarred whispers, "Well done."

Kenneth stares at his human hands once more, unable to say anything. His mouth gone completely dry, the boy looks more like he's in shock than anything. Seconds tick by before he whispers, "I... need water." He looks up at Jarred, once more black eyes gazing at the galliard. This time, though, there's no stubborn denial, no taunting arrogance and immaturity.

Jarred simply nods and goes to get water. On the way back from the kitchen he dips into his bedroom and emerges with both the glass, and a large black terrycloth robe. He sets both in front of Kenneth, surprisingly gently.

Kenneth swallows dryly at first as he has to wait for the elder to return. Once the glass and robe are set before him, the first thing he takes is the water. Holding the glass up to his lips with both hands, he sucks the entire glassful down before finally setting it on the floor beside him. It's when he reaches to pick up the robe when he pauses, hand hovering. "I... must look like an idiot." This he admits with a calm, quiet tone.

Jarred smiles softly and shakes his head. "You are a Shadow Lord. You will never look like an idiot. And those who say so will pay for their impudence." He squats down near the boy. "You think what you did was easy? I've seen the most moronic garou the Mother ever created. I've seen cubs spend weeks and weeks in the form of rage because they couldn't summon the willpower or burn enough brain cells to figure out how to do it. I can see in you that you will become a garou of surpassing excellence. I will allow nothing less from you, for it is what you are capable of being."

Kenneth kneels as he is at first, eyes directed to the elder's but kept somewhere below in instinctive submission. "I couldn't bring myself to believe you until..." Until it happened. Finally he picks up the robe, and slips it about his shoulders. "Does this... mean that I have to go back to that cave still?" His gaze remains cast to the floor.

Jarred shakes his head. "Now that you know... now that you have seen it, felt it... you should go to be with other cubs. They can teach you more about yourself than you might realize. You will spend weekends here learning from me. The weeks you will spend at the farmhouse among your new peers. You will be amazed at how much there is for you to experience."

Kenneth lifts his gaze when he's told he isn't going to be cooped up in a cave. Nodding once, he seems to acknowledge the decision made by the elder fully and rather unconditionally. It is then that he stands and ties the robe around himself, before he picks off a piece of what was his shirt and looks about at the scattered, ripped cloth. "I'm going to need new clothes," he says quietly, somewhat bewildered on why Jarred can shift in and out of clothes, and he ends up not so.

Jarred nods. "I'll get you some tomorrow. You'll just need to let me know what you want to wear. Make a list. Money isn't an object. We'll visit the farm tomorrow and introduce you to the other cubs. Perhaps in a few days we will venture into the woods and introduce you to some of the other members of this sept as well."

Jarred says "For now, you should sleep." He gestures up the spiral stairs. There are rooms on the second floor. You'll find they're all ready for you to sleep in."

Kenneth doesn't even question what 'sept' is, but again bows his head low. For lack of a better way to explain how he feels, the boy merely says a quiet "Thank you." Then, he looks to the shreds of clothing around and swallows once more. "I'll clean up after myself." And in all manner of self-sufficiency, he bends down to pick up the empty water glass, and starts collecting the rags before heading to bed.