7/7/2004

05:39 PM
Logfile from GarouMUSH.

Big Red Barn(#3420RA)
The barn is built in the old style, a vast three level structure that is greater in height than a mere three stories, actually closer to five. Great wooden posts support the weight of the upper levels and roof, sunk into the hard-packed dirt floor of the first level like a sparse forest of regularly spaced, naked trees. The stalls and flagstones which once were here have been torn out to leave a rather open area where even crinos Garou may roam freely without fear of running into anything but the supports or the walls or the ladder at the back which allows access to the other two levels.
The first two levels are relatively open to each other, the second being only little wider than a catwalk going around all the walls but the front one, which has massive, twenty foot tall doors set into it. The third level is a true second floor except for a place cut out that allowed hay to be tossed down to the ground floor when the farm was actually worked. Now, it is a hayloft where Garou can sleep outside of the house.
(Non-Garou, please "+view curse")
Contents:
Lucas
Obvious exits:
BarnYard  

Currently the moon is in the waning Gibbous Moon phase (65% full).

Currently in Saint Claire, it's a sunny day. The temperature is 64 degrees Fahrenheit (17 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from the southwest at 13 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 30.09 and rising, and the relative humidity is 49 percent. The dewpoint is 45 degrees Fahrenheit (7 degrees Celsius.)

The barn doors slide open, blackening the form of the Shadow Lord as he enters. The scuff of his sneakers against the ground and his hard breathing tell of his recent completion of a vigorous outdoor workout, likely something involving lots of laps around the fields. Not expecting anyone to really be in, or perhaps simply not observing any occupants, the halfmoon makes his line towards the nearest haybale, setting a foot upon it to stretch out his leg.

Two haybales away, there is one stuck under the line of shadows caused by the overhanging floors above. Or, it may seem so, until it moves. Two blue eyes appear in the mass, and a lupine snouts lifts up from the hay to sniff at the boy. If a wolf could say Boo, he would, but instead he just yawns - wide and loud, with curling tongue, white fangs, and all.

Kenneth pauses in full stretch himself, black gaze going to the equally black wolf. "Lucas," he greets, recognizing the other now. It took some time to figure out, but he's getting the hang of this.

The fullmoon cub brings his jaws together with a click of teeth, and takes a moment to lick his jaws, the action paired with a rather lazy expression. Hello. Again, he sniffs at the other cub, looking more like a big, sluggish dog at the moment. Running?

Kenneth nods, stretching out the other leg. "Last thing I need's to get fat and lazy," he replies, smirking at the lupine.

Black-Cub wrinkles his nose and snorts at the Lordling cub. He is not lazy. He has been busy today, meeting other Garou, like the Wendigo elder.

Kenneth hunhs, and rolls a shoulder as he finishes stretching out his legs, only to go towards the punching bag hanging from one of the main beams. "Who's the Wendigo elder?" he asks, turning to looks back at the wolf.

Black-Cub believes her name is Pierces-Ice. He yawns again and pushes himself up into a sit, flicking an ear. She asked him about his parents, to see if he was Wendigo.

The thump-thud-thump of Kenneth's punching at the bag begins, but it looks more like the cub is working on his footwork than the actual swings. "Where'd you see her?" he continues on, moving around so that he sees the lupe as he jabs.

Black-Cub turns his eyes to a particular spot not far away from where he is. There. We talked. She asked me to track her as a wolf, but I could not. He gives a vague snort, not going into details about how he got shamefully lost, again, and had to find his way back - unknowingly aided by the Wendigo
warrior.

Kenneth stops the swinging bag briefly to peer towards the other cub. "What'd she ask that for?" His gaze casts down a moment, before he looks back up. "N'er mind. You been in the Umbra before?"

Black-Cub shakes his big, shaggy head in a purely human expression. What is it like? He asks, fixing his eyes back on the halfmoon with interest.

Kenneth stops his workout, thinking back to his harrowing experience yesterday. "S'different," he replies, voice quieted considerably and in a way, humbled. "Really different." He looks back to the wolf, dark gaze steadier now; the Slord was really torn up by the loss of his headphones the other day, though he wouldn't admit to why. "Cutter-rhya took me in, through the city, first." Though his voice quiets even more, it's audible to lupus ears. "Weren't in there more than a minute before some monsters came for us."

There's a tilt to the black wolf's head, and the Ahroun leans in with an intent look that's focused on the human-formed cub. Monsters? He wrinkles his nose, though doesn't show any tooth.

Kenneth nods. "Bad shit man," he asserts. "I mean huge fuckin' spiders, crawlin' all over webs. And stuff that's like, sproutin' claws from every part of 'em, not just their hands. If you can call 'em hands."

Cutter drifts quietly near the door, observing the conversation from the yard.

The growl from the wolf needs no translation, and his fur begins to puff out on end, his own natural instincts picturing the scene and wanting to react. The black cub licks his jaws through bared teeth, his shoulders hunched up. What happened?

"Well, we made it back to this side of the mirror in one piece," Kenneth answers, very obviously here on the Realmside. He stops in his conversation with the wolf when he sees Cutter out of the corner of his eye. He forgot to close the door. Oh well. He plays it off, nodding to his elder.

Cutter continues standing, quiet and still.

Black-Cub doesn't miss Ken's motion, but doesn't pay much attention otherwise. In fact, he seems more dissapointed in the lack of details than being watched. The Ahroun does, however, relax himself, and finally decides to look back over his shoulder and stare at Cutter with a single, blue-eyed gaze.

"Good evening," Kenneth greets his elder vocally now, his conversation halted in some sort of expectance of a rebuke for the open door. The philodox glances briefly back to the other cub.

Cutter dips his head. "Don't stop on my account. I admit to being curious about your observations." Stepping inside the barn, he pulls out a battered celophane packet from his jacket pocket.

Black-Cub seems satisfied enough, and turns back to Kenneth. So? What is it like there?

Kenneth takes in a breath, hand coming up to rub at his face and wipe off some sweaty residue. "Yeah," he adds, turning back to the ahroun. "So, it's real weird. There's like, some kind of wall you gotta cross. All those sci-fi shows that got some sort of interdimensional hooplah, that's not even the tip of the iceberg. It's weird shit. It's like goin' on an acid trip, but you still know up here," he taps his temple, "who you are, and where you want to go. Sort of. But the city's flipside is real different from the caern's." Pausing there to think of the contrast, the cub continues, "The caern's just... kinna like staring at one of those huge photos of a mountain and the lake with reflections in the water and trees. But it's a lot more peaceful. Feels like it's safe. That sort of thing. I don't know... y'gotta come with sometime, an' see for yourself."

Cutter shakes out a cigarette and lights it, his attention not straying.

The lost cub again feels the distinct lack of a tribe and knowledge it offers, and it sets a droop to his ears. Sometime, he echos, and slips off the hay and away from the other cub, musing to himself.

Kenneth wipes a hand on his pant side as the other cub moves off. "Dude, don't trip. We can go later if you want." At the sound of the lighter, his eyes immediately shooting towards the lit cigarette. His placid demeanor almost immediately changes for the worse as he tenses up seeing the small orange lighted end. A good thing he's a fair distance from the door and Cutter. Control. He reminds himself about control, and shuts his eyes quickly, turning away from his elder.

Cutter apparently fails to notice the reaction, going about his business of putting away the packet and lighter. "This might be an excellent time for introductions," he says to nobody in particular.

Black-Cub doesn't seem too inclined to talk, as he plunks himself on another bale of hay and curls up into a big black ball and tucks his snout under the brush of his tail. Grumpy little bastard that he is.

Kenneth exhales in a restrained sigh, making a decision in his mind and turning back to the fostern. "That's Lucas. He's tribeless, and an ahroun. Think he's under watch of Natalie-rhya of the Glass Walkers, but he's asked Flash about joining the Stargazers. Though, maybe you can convince him the Shadow Lords are better." The halfmoon cub's words are evenly placed, as he pointedly tells himself that there's nothing he can do about the smokestick.

Cutter grins. "The stargazers are very popular among the tribeless these days," he says, moving into the barn. "Severs, fostern theurge Shadow Lord. And umbral tour guide."

The fullmoon cracks open an eye towards the two, and remarks he is still not sure which tribe he will pick. To himself, he reminds that he's been here just over a month now. He needs to pick soon.

"How're you gonna pick if you haven't heard the full story from all the elders?" Kenneth asks, pushing the punching bag out of his way and coming around it. "Dunno if Cutter-rhya's up for PR, but yeah. I got it good on my side of the fence, and 'm pretty sure you're welcome to it too." He does, though, look to Cutter as if for confirmation about tribal acceptances.

Cutter says "If you decide you're interested, I'm happy to discuss the matter with you. And I expect Jarred would be happy to join the parade of Lost Cub Claiming Shriners, but I don't work that way. I'm not going to put on a show, with dancing bears and scantily clad bitches, about how great our tribe is and how much the others are all worthless." He takes a long, thoughtful breath. "But if you want to be a part of a tribe that's not afraid to accomplish things, to get the job done, then you might consider it."

Black-Cub does eventually drag his nose back out into the air and settles his eyes more evenly on the Fostern, her ears brought forward onto his skull. Something about what he said seems to have caught the Ahroun's interest. I am willing to learn about the tribes, from the tribes. I want to learn.

Kenneth glances between the other two, coiling inside once more. "Like how he gets to the point," he says in regards to Cutter, also wanting to hear what the theurge's point of view for the Shadow Lords would be.

Severs drops to four-leg form, his cane clattering to the floor as he lets it drop. You will like better talking in this form?

Black-Cub remains atop the hay, his paws draped over the edge. He has spent all his life as human. He needs to learn to be wolf.

Kenneth watches as his elder too, shifts into the wolf. The cub debates on whether to do the same, but instead crosses over closer to the other two, and lifts himself up to one of the haybales to sit, watch, and listen.

Cutter flows back into his former shape, wincing as he settles on the floor. "Good. I talk far better in this form. It's what it's designed for--communicating, and building."

"...Rather, communicating and manipulating, I suppose. In all definitions."

In a silent, quizzical manner, the lost cub tilts his head to one side at the Theurge's words, questioning what he means.

Kenneth 's knees come up, elbows resting upon them and fingers lacing together. He doesn't interrupt.

Cutter doesn't explain. Instead, he starts his story. "The forefather of the Shadow Lord clan, the first favored by Grandfather Thunder, had a position as an advisor to the Garou who was the progenitor of the Silver Fangs. And there was something that needed to be done. Something distasteful, and something that was not particularly glorious or honorable. We don't really know what--it's lost in the mists of the ages."

Black-Cub listens closely, with unblinking attention. For an Ahroun, he doesn't seem to mind listening to history.

Cutter plucks his cigarette, which impressively travelled from form to form with him, and says "The Silver Fang, noble leader, took his advisor aside and said I need you to do this thing, for the good of the Nation. I need you to do it in secret, to avoid the taint of dishonor. And his advisor agreed, saying this must be done for the good of the Nation."

Kenneth doesn't mind either, but that's only because the story just started. One never knows how long his attention span is, particularly.

Cutter says "Some say that something went wrong, and the identity of the advisor was discovered. Some say that the High King turned his own advisor in, to make himself look better. Either way, the result was the same. The advisor took sole blame for the heinous deed, and did not smear the King's reputation."

Black-Cub wrinkles his nose again, like a man might knit his eyebrows. Why?

Cutter says "Because it was for the good of the Nation. The deed needed to be done, and the King needed to be able to rule effectively."

"So he took the rap," Kenneth rumbles. "And then?"

Cutter says "And he was disgraced, and shunned. And this is the role his tribe inherited. The things that need to be done, to ensure our survival, that would soil the hands of the more Proper Tribes fall to us. Because we're willing to do them. Because we're willing to trade glory and promotion for pragmatism--for getting the important things done."

Kenneth narrows his eyes. "And how does getting kicked around by other tribes all the time get stuff done? There's a breaking point too."

Black-Cub digests all of this in silence, and does so for awhile. Perhaps it's the lack of words in the wolf form, but the Ahroun moves back on the hay and slips through the forms until he settles into the one of his birth. Still, he says nothing, only thinks.

Cutter says "And the other tribes will talk shit about us. They will say we're dishonorable and we're back stabbers and we're liars." He shrugs. "And there's a lot of truth to it. But that's our responsibility to the Garou."

Kenneth's expression, save for his eyes, are rather hidden behind his bridged hands. "Yet, the two Shadow Lord elders that're here are both fostern."

Cutter looks at Kenneth. "Do you have any idea how long I was a Cliath first?"

Kenneth only looks back at his elder. Obviously, he does not.

Cutter says "About six years. And glory isn't the only thing they base advancement on. Accomplishment does play into it."

Lucas draws his knees up to his chest, still watching the Fostern. "And how do you accomplish things in your tribe? What role to the auspices play?"

Kenneth blinks slowly, gaze straying to the ahroun momentarily before returning the the theurge.

Cutter blinks, having been caught off guard by the sudden change of form. "Well. Much the same as other tribes. The no moons are the rogues and the thieves. The knife moons deal with the spirits. The half moons interpret law, and decide what is against the Litany and what is simply distasteful. The gibbous moons keep histories, and serve as ambassadors. The full moons are looked to as warriors and leaders in times of conflict.

Kenneth considers quietly, "I'd think of the Philodox as an avenger."

Lucas looks to Kenneth with a quirked eyebrow at his statement.

Cutter shrugs. "There's no reason you can't be, Kenneth. You're free to carve your own path, to a large extent."

Kenneth doesn't lift his head from his hands, but gives the elder the barest of nods. "Ahrouns got to be warriors - soldiers and generals. Philodox, are like the MPs."

Lucas listens to the two Lords talk, but remains quiet, simply listenings to their words.

Kenneth shifts his gaze to his elder then. "What'd you do that earned you fostern rank?"

Cutter eyes Kenneth, almost amused. "I defended the caern. I strengthened its spiritual defenses. I helped find a new totem when we lost ours. I did things that were beneficial to the Sept, that they could not deny were helpful."

Kenneth eyes back, but isn't amused so much as investigating. "And it took six years? You aren't sayin' that you're gonna be 80 by the time you reach high enough to get to the other ranks, are you?"

Lucas hmfs to himself, "Of course, they can't deny you if they all saw it."

Cutter shakes his head. "It doesn't work that way. The ones who progress beyond Fostern are special. It doesn't happen to the average guy. It's like getting a recording contract with Columbia, or getting drafted by the Knicks."

Kenneth says, "Guess we can't all be NBA players then." He turns his eyes back to the other ahroun cub, lifting his head up from his hands. "So what do you think now?"

Lucas looks back at Kenneth, and then says, "The story is a lot different, to hear it from the tribe instead of another."

Cutter says "Is that surprising?"

Kenneth smirks then, uncurling from his position and hopping off the haybale. "Shouldn't be. Like learning not all the Get of Fenris are crazy about fighting, or a Fianna that doesn't drink."

"In a way yes, in a way no." Lucas says, "A lot of the tribes seem to have a fairly good take on one another, minus the details and inner workings. 'Cept with you guys."

Cutter shifts his weight carefully. "Anybody who gives you information is going to have their own personal spin. Take me; I have a vested interest in making my own tribe look good. The guy who owns a donut shop has a vested interest in making his product look good. Everybody's going to have an angle. Everybody is going to *see* things a little differently. It doesn't mean everybody's wrong except one person. Usually it means everybody's a little bit right.

Kenneth glances to his elder before looking back to Lucas. "You got any restrictions on where you can go, Lucas?"

"True..." Lucas murmurs in response to Cutter before looking to Kenneth. "Not that I know of. Right now, anyone who would take me is fair game."

Cutter takes his cane and carefully, deliberately finds his feet. Leaning on the silver head, he pushes up until he's standing again, then he hobbles around the barn a little. "Sorry, I can't do that for very long."

"So technically, you can go wherever you want, no worries. You been to the caern yet?" Kenneth looks to his elder curiously as the theurge rises, again his eyes travelling to the cane. "I think I can find my way back there."

"I just don't think Megan wants me wandering past the farm without an elder." Lucas says with a faint frown.

Cutter nods to Lucas. "I bet she doesn't. And Kenneth, until he's rited, isn't actually welcome at the caern without an invitation. Which I've provided, because I think he's learned enough and shown himself to be trustworthy." He glances at Kenneth, warningly.

Kenneth does catch the warning in the elder's eyes, and looks down at the dirt floor. "Fine," he says neutrally. "Not like I was going to barge in." Shrugging a shoulder, he turns towards the open door of the barn. "But the rest of the woods around the farmhouse - those aren't off limits, are they?"

Lucas gets up to his feet, occupying himself with plucking strands of hay off his pants and listening for the Fostern's answer.

Cutter says "No, not at all. But care should still be excercized. Even if your friend chooses not to join the best tribe in the Nation, he still would be ill served by wandering off on his own and having something unfortunate happen to him."

One of the cub's brows arch at the fostern's answer. Kenneth looks over to Lucas. "Doubt that'd happen. But hey, you want to figure out some wolf stuff later, I'm all up for it." He gives the suggestion, rather than providing some sort of invitation.

"That sounds like a plan." Lucas says to Kenneth, but only a moment after fixing a brief, curious gaze on Cutter. "I'm tired of sitting around here."

Cutter says "Gentlemen, I need to move on. If there are no further questions, that is." He turns to Lucas. "Leave a note on the fridge, or have Kenneth call me if you want anything."

Kenneth half-lids his eyes, watching his elder carefully. "Got my 'lesson of the day'," he remarks. "I'm going to go shower up myself and grab something to eat at the farmhouse." He looks back to Lucas. "You?"

To the other cub, the answer is probably rather predictable. "Food's good." One'd think he belonged with the Gnawers, if only based on the principle of his stomach. However, he does remember his manners before he goes to tear into the fridge, and nods his head to the elder Lord. "Thank you, Cutter-rhya. I will."

Kenneth nods. "Cool." To Cutter, he also nods, although it's slightly more like a bow of his head, mimicking the respect shown to a master leaving the dojo.

Cutter gives both of them a smile, and steps aside to keep from getting in their way as they stampede back to the house.