7/6/2004

05:12 PM
Logfile from GarouMUSH.

Currently the moon is in the waning Gibbous Moon phase (72% full).

Currently in Saint Claire, it is a cloudy day. The temperature is 70 degrees Fahrenheit (21 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from the southwest at 14 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 30.09 and falling, and the relative humidity is 68 percent. The dewpoint is 59 degrees Fahrenheit (15 degrees Celsius.)

Farmhouse: Hallway and Living Room
All doorways in the front part of the house lead to the front hallway, a J-shaped area with the short tail starting at the stairs, the front door hitting the bottom curve, the doorless opening to the living room halfway up the long side, and the also doorless opening to the kitchen and dining room at the very top. The hall has a simple wooden floor, and decorated with a generic print of soft-colored flowers hanging on the wall to the right of the front door, and a tall table sitting under the print which serves as a place to toss keys. A closet under the stairs serves as a place to hang coats or to toss shoes.
The doorless opening to the living room is halfway up the side of the hall's J, and the word cozy might spring to mind when looking into is, as it seems to radiate comforting vibrations. A long couch sits against the south wall beneath a large bay window curtained only by sheers that manages to obscure the view in but only filters the day's light. A variety of out-of-date magazines are strewn atop a low coffee table; more neatly presented are the plethora of books filling the small bookshelves which line the eastern wall. Three chairs sit about the room, focused inward, to allow group conversations. Large floor pillows are stacked in one corner of the room, except one, which lies carelessly in the middle of the floor, apparently left out the last time it was used.
An opening in the northern end of the hallway allows access to the kitchen and dining room at the back of the house, while carpeted stairs twist up at the other end of the hall, leading to the second floor. A door at the base of the J lets out to the front porch.
(Non-Garou, please "+view curse")
Contents:
NOTE: Current Farmhouse Residents (Updated: Jun 24)
Obvious exits:
Kitchen/Dining Room  Front Door  STairs  

Kenneth(#3651Pc)
In his early teens, Kenneth is already tall and a somber youth. A certain aura, an intangible, uncomfortable atmosphere penetrates his otherwise good social graces that makes him seem at first impression, unapproachable. A pity really, as he is not only young, but fairly attractive as well. His body has the muscle build of a tennis player or swimmer, toned with athletic potential yet not intimidatingly muscled. The midlength waves of his dark brown hair carry back a windswept style, with forelocks sweeping forward to accentuate the long, appealing features and shape of his face. To note further, his face shape, along with the tint of his skin, hints at him being European or perhaps Meditteranean, but also carries a very discreet golden undertone of the Far Eastern countries - an interesting, if mysterious mix of bloodlines not readily guessed by most. The mild curves of his eyebrows add to the expression of his black eyes. While not eccentrically colored, his gaze becomes highlighted with a slightly lighter grey-brown cast in stronger lighting, and is often inclined downward in a quiet, though not necessarily subdued, fashion.
Dressed in a black tank that loosely covers him, the shirt exposes his well-built, albeit still developing frame. Dark blue jeans sit comfortably below, covering his black sneakers in an example of Kenneth at his ultra-casual.

Cutter steps in from the porch, closing the front door behind him.
Cutter has arrived.

If nobody heard the car pull up off of Sunrise, or heard the muffled thump of footsteps crossing the porch, then the first sign for them of Cutter's arrival would be the perfunctory rap on the door.
If auras were visible to the naked eye, Kenneth's would be as dark as a BSD's gift of Shroud. Sitting upon the couch, eyes staring at the opposite wall with an invisible curtain drawn over them, he makes no move and no sound in reaction to the sound of the car, or the footsteps up to the door. Before him on the table, a normal spiral notebook opened up to a page filled with notes, amongst lots of scratched out things in black ink. But the most noticeable thing is the thick feeling of latent anger surrounding the cub, even though he's like a gargoyle upon the couch.

Cutter pushes the door open without waiting for a response and limps into the room, his dark wood cane making muffled reports on the carpet. He draws his lips back in a smile as he spots Kenneth first thing. "Good. I was hoping to find you."

Kenneth is noticeably sans headphones, and who knows where the tennis bag is? Even as his elder steps in and addresses him, he doesn't move a muscle - not even to blink his eyes. From the redness around them, he must not have slept. The cub doesn't reply at all, simply staring mutely at the wall opposite.

Cutter dips his head curtly. "Excellent. Catatonia is a far more helpful response than many available. If nothing else, it cuts down on property damage." Carefully, deliberately, he crosses the room toward Kenneth and stands in front of him. "It is hoped that our Elder has been dealing with your education. We'll want you rited soon so you can try to normalize again."

Kenneth does eventually have to blink, as an involuntary motion. His response is quiet, but there's no doubt of hidden fury in his voice. "Fuck you." Red rimmed eyes shift upwards, glaringly.

Cutter nods again. "Fuck you too," he responds politely. "Has Jarred covered the basic Litany on your warehouse weekends? Anything about the Umbra? The tribes?"

Kenneth at the placid response, says nothing, but looks off to his side, towards the front door. His jaw clenches visibly, and he takes in a sharp breath. Thinking it over, he turns his gaze back to the elder, then to the notebook with the writings in it, and then back to the front door. "S'in there." The notebook, he means.

Cutter glances down at it. Then he leans forward, making eye contact as if asking permission as he picks it up with his free hand. "Thank you," he says, before starting to flip through it.
Notes. Copious, somewhat unorganized amounts of notes scrawled all through the pages in English and what looks like Japanese, and some random Greek letterings as well. The Garou Litany is in there. Notes on Grandfather Thunder, though not many. One bare note about 'Other spirits exist.' The tribes as well, are noted throughout, but most noticeably are quite a few gashes or scratches of ink in the pages around the Gnawer and Stargazer tribes. There is very little about the Shadow Lords written within. When or why he was writing this all out, is a mystery. The cub remains ever silent, black as a stormcloud in his dour expression.

You paged Cutter with 'And a few water and blood stains as well. Just a few drops here and there.'.

Cutter makes a cursory look, and sets it back down on the table, closed. "Good. I was concerned you were being neglected. Now, do you want to talk about it?"

Kenneth rolls his eyes up briefly. "I don't care," he says flatly. "Talk if you want."

Cutter shakes his head. "Not what I meant. But if you don't care, and given your passionless demeanor and lack of emotion this is quite likely, then there's probably not much to talk about."

Kenneth's eyes slip back almost immediately to his elder, and a flare of anger is drawn out at the remark as he stands up from the couch, shoulder muscles tensing visibly as he stares hard at his elder. "I don't. At this point, I really don't give a damn. All the Garou can be fucked in the ass with a fish hook for all I care. All this," he growls out, a hand flippantly gesturing at the farmhouse in general, "can burn! There's no fuckin' point to it all. Nothing whatsoever." He stands there, facing off with the elder, suddenly infuriated at something inside.

Cutter frowns slightly. "No point. That's interesting, I don't think I've heard that before. Do you mind if I ask further?" He limps around the table, watching it carefully as he maneuvers to have a seat in a chair next to the couch.

Kenneth grits his teeth, fighting off the Rage that desires his mind, his eyes following Cutter's movement. "That's right. It's all one big steaming piece of crap. Jarred says I gotta be here to Learn, but doesn't say what the fuck I'm supposed to pick up. You know what I'm learning? I'm learning that Garou don't give a shit about their own damn laws. Take Todd. I hate his fuckin' guts. He fuckin' stole shit from me, and tried to cut me up. I'd say he even tried to kill me. What does he get to do in his spare time? He gets to run around playing fucking wolf in the woods." He snorts, turning and pacing away a few steps. "And then there's Flash. First I get told there aren't Stargazers, then I find there's one. And he fuckin' takes..." The cub cuts there, too angry to continue as he thinks about the Stargazer.

Cutter says "Which shit did they steal? And did you get it back?" He leans back in the chair, cane draped across his lap. "I must say I'm glad if that's the only thing that's a steaming piece of crap. Have you talked to a half moon about any of this?"

"No. And it really doesn't matter, does it? Because I'm just a dumbass newbie cub that doesn't deserve the respect that a stain on a sidewalk gets," Kenneth snarls, glaring claymores at anything along the walls. "So fuck it."

Cutter shrugs, letting his eyes fall closed. The hints of strain on his face only now become visible. "If that's the way you feel, I won't bring it up with anybody. But the litany does mention, in its basic points, respecting the territory of others, and consideration for those of lower station. Aside from the fact that Todd is a dumbass newbie stain as well."

"Tell that to Flash then. He owes me a set of headphones," Kenneth replies, fist clenching as he puts back the urge to punch a new hole in the farmhouse wall. Turning and walking towards said wall, he stops before it. A heavy silence invades the immediate atmosphere. "And so far, every fuckin' no-moon I've seen doesn't give a damn about the Litany. Maybe I won't even wait for the next ragabash to break the law, and just punch 'im out before he can. Pre-emptively."

Cutter says "No-moons are supposed to push the laws, but that doesn't mean they don't get punished for it. They get both." His eyes open just a little. "If you changed your mind and care, then we can work on the problem. What about Todd?"

Kenneth remains silent again for a long time. "He'll get his," the cub finally responds, dangerously quiet in his answer. He turns back to his elder then, having calmed a considerable amount from his outburst. "That don't change anything, though. I still couldn't give a rat's ass about this place."

Cutter says "Because this place doesn't matter. I seem to recall that. Is that because the rest of your life was so much more full of meaning? Or because the war is unimportant?"

Kenneth jerks his head off to one side. "What war? Do you see a war in this room? 'Cause I don't. As for life... I had a fuckin' life. I had people who gave a damn about me. I had friends. And I'll even say I had a family."

Cutter lifts his head, looking at Kenneth. "Would you like a war in this room? Or would you rather have some idea how to fight it before it came into the living room and flayed you alive? And it's not like your friends are dead. They're still there, and it's possible they'll still remember you after a couple of months. They might even give a damn about you still."

Kenneth snorts. "I ask again, what fuckin' war? What the hell is the point?!" His hand slams up against the wall, but not hard enough to dent. "All I do is either run laps, punch a stupid bag in the barn, get told some philosophical bullshit and sit on my ass the rest of the fuckin' day. I don't see sand bags or AKs, or any sort of hint that there's a 'war'."

Cutter sighs. "I ask again. Do you want to drop in on the war zone right now? Would that make it more real for you? Make it less of a steaming pile of crap? Because that's where I got this." He slaps his thigh, finally releasing a little of the annoyance that's been hiding behind the facade of urbanity and politic calm. Then he winces in pain.

Kenneth watches the expression of pain cross the elder's face, eyes travelling down to the injured leg. "I'm saying," he begins measuredly trying to mediate his tone, "I don't see what the hell to fight for. What are /you/ fighting whatever it is for? Why do I even give a damn?" The cub closes his eyes, tilting his head back and sighing raggedly. "Fancy words and names... that says nothing to me. Gaia. The Wyrm. We might as well try to combine our powers and call out Captain Planet."

[So they do. Or rather, Cutter drives Kenneth into town, takes him down to the Bomb Shelter, steps the cub across into the Umbra long enough for him to see the Scab. About 15 seconds' worth of Nasty. Following that, a trip to the caern's Umbra, to serve as massive contrast. And just in case you're curious to know what the bomb shelter looks like...

La Bomba Shelter(#3649RJ)
Concrete walls, concrete floors, four steel bunkbeds with austere mattresses. On one wall is a mirror with a black plastic comb stuck behind the frame. On the adjoining wall is a green and white metal sign that reads "Shea Stadium" and an arrow pointing towards the thick solid door to the alleyway.

[Pretty bad, eh?]