7/19/2004

12:56 PM
Logfile from GarouMUSH.

Currently the moon is in the waxing No Moon phase (15% full).
Currently in Saint Claire, it is partly sunny. The temperature is 71 degrees Fahrenheit (21 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from the southwest at 9 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 30.00 and rising, and the relative humidity is 61 percent. The dewpoint is 57 degrees Fahrenheit (13 degrees Celsius.)

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

The barn doors slide open to admit one Shadow Lord cub, dressed in a regular white shirt and his dedicated pants. His shoes are scuffed with dirt, looking like they'd gone through quite a bit of running just recently. "Lucas? You in?"

True to habit, Lucas is to be found prowling the barn as though it's become his personal territory. He's in his homid form and pacing around the bag, sporting a pair of baggy black jeans that slouch enough to show he's wearing black boxers, and a white tank top. *Smack* His fist collides with the canvas, quickly followed by the opposing fist in a rapid double hit. "What's up?" He says around the bag.

"Thought I'd find you in here." Kenneth walks over, undeterred by the smackdown being laid on the bag. "Just got in - to the farm that is. Another week at Garou camp begins." The Slord seems to be in a rather good mood - surprising.

"Well, ya haven't missed anything, at least to my knowledge." Lucas says with another round of hits to the bag. "It's been quiet overall, nothing at all."

Sitting atop a haybale, the philodox regards his fellow cub. "No new happenings on your tribe stuff?" He leans over, slouching over a drawn up knee. "Guess I don't have anything much to report either. Not even a cub name. I'm thinkin' of just making one up and using it. Screw the deed naming."

Lucas shakes his head, "Nothing." And that's the extent of the tribal buisness. "What about something using your tribe and Auspice? Like... Judge-of-Thunder, or something. It sounds more like a deed name than a cub name, but..."

Kenneth shrugs. "I kept thinking about it, but the more I tried incorporating some Shadow Lord stuff, it just sounded corny." The philodox shakes his head. "Somethin' simple maybe. Like even Jean-rhya's name was just .. normal. Shadow. That's about as normal as you can get, y'know?"

Lucas gives the bag another round of abuse before easing off to focus back on the other cub. "Hmm..." He furrows his brow in thought and moves to take a seat on the hay nearby, then points a finger at the halfmoon. "Now I have an idea, I just gotta put it to words. ...something like.... Storm-in-Shadows."

Kenneth wets the edge of his lip, echoing the name aloud. "Storm-in-Shadows. Hmm. Think it'll get confused with Storm-Singer? That's Jarred-rhya's name." The cub grimaces. "Then again, maybe not. Bad enough I get associated with him already."

Lucas shrugs his shoulders, "You only have the name while you're a cub. Besides, I've rarely heard anyone ever call him by his deed name. I was just basing it on your personality, or trying. Just looking at you, someone may not think you can fight as well as you do, but you can."

Kenneth glances back over at the lost cub, a hint of a smile there. "Thanks. Though we didn't get a chance to finish that match, last time." He turns his eyes more fully onto the lost cub, and then away again towards the punching bag. Maybe he's not in the mood today.

"Hey, we got pleanty to time to finish that match and start a bunch of others." Lucas says with a laugh as he leans himself back, running his arm across his brow to clear away a bit of the sweat. "So yeah, that's sorta what I was thinking. But, I'm real bad with names."

Kenneth sits on a haybale, talking with Lucas nearby. "Yeah, well, not like this is a normal name thing. Usually y'know, nicknames just come out." He combs a hand through his hair, scowling slightly at a realization he's in need of a haircut.

Auggie opens the barn door with an abrupt yank, and pads in barefoot, wearing only jeans and a thin, sweat-soaked undershirt. From the look of the Gaian, he's been exerting himself in some way or another. Perhaps a "morning" workout. Not surprised at spying the two other cubs in here, he smirks and waves to both. "How come you guys are always hangin' out in this musty old barn? You sparrin' again?"

"Not yet." Is Luc's reply to Auggie, as the lost Ahroun gives the Gaian one a returning smirk. "Besides, I live here." Or so it would seem. "So what're you up to, Auggie? When's the Rite?"

Kenneth looks up at the barn door. "Better here than the farmhouse," he answers simply. What logic is behind that, who knows. He'll let Auggie answer Lucas's question first.

Auggie shrugs one shoulder, trying to look nonchalant, although his expression darkens a bit. "Dunno. Alicia said she's gotta talk to Dakota 'bout it. They're still deciding what exactly they want me to be doing," he explains, tersely. He pauses to stretch, bending over, arching his back like a cat and touching the floor, laying his palms out flat on the dirt ground. My, but the Gaian Ahroun is flexible. A few joints pop audibly, and the cub grunts in satisfaction, his expression once again becoming amicable. Still in this posture, he continues, "Not up to much. Just trainin'. How 'bout you?"

Lucas shrugs his shoulders, "Trying to make some final decisions, but otherwise just waiting for this moot or inspiration. Beyond that, I just keep practicing."

"Same here," Kenneth adds in, "Just thinking of a name to use in lupus for myself. Gettin' kind of annoying to keep getting called Cub."

Auggie stands back up, and nods to Lucas. "Still haven't made up your mind, huh?" he says to the lost cub, more of an observation than a question. He cocks his head at Kenneth, and scratches his chin. "You're gonna name yourself? Your elder didn't give you a name yet?" he asks, some surprise evident in his voice.

Lucas shakes his head in a silent answer, and lets Kenneth answer before saying anything else.

Kenneth shrugs in reply. "Like I said. Calls me cub. Most of the stuff I learn is just lectures anyway. The rest of it, I'm supposed to figure it out myself I guess." The cub's less than enthused reply is somewhat disgruntled, but grudgingly accepted. "Prolly'll just get it when I'm rited."

Auggie shakes his head. "Nah, it's a pain in the ass not to have one. Plus, you're gonna have to introduce yourself to the Sept next moot, so...," he trails off, regarding the Slord thoughtfully. "If you're allowed to name yourself, then fuckin' do it. Most cubs don't get that privilege. Plus, our cub names aren't a big deal. They're usually just about how you look or act or somethin'. Most of 'em are pretty boring anyway."

Lucas nods his head, "Or extremely degrading. I've heard some I wouldn't be caught dead being called." He looks aside to Kenneth and says, "Just pick a name that describes you, your goals, something..."

"Comin' up with something that doesn't suck is easy. Comin' up with one that's awesome, now that's hard." Kenneth glances at the two ahrouns. "No one's said I don't get to name myself, but I figure the way they said it, it was an honor thing to be named by an elder." The philodox gazes off. Goals? Did he have goals before he was a Garou?

Auggie smirks. "I don't even think they're supposed to be awesome. Getting rid of a stupid cub name is just icing on top of getting Rited." He moves to take a seat on a nearby haybale, kicking his feet up onto another. "But go ahead and give yourself a kickass name. I'd bet someone Ranked will take notice, and give you a shitty one," he predicts, razzing the poor Philodox.

"I guess casting off your old name is part of that whole 'coming of age' thing." Lucas says and shrugs his shoulders.

Kenneth lifts his chin off his arm, turning his gaze to stare at Auggie in a manner much too wolf-like to be human. "Hence, why I'm not doin' it. Just need something that isn't 'Cub' and isn't stupid. Hell, I'll settle for No-Name if it gets down to that wire."

Auggie mutters quiet agreement with Lucas. "Right." At Kenneth's words, he shakes his head. "You're at least better than No-Name. I mean, I don't know you that good and I'm not too creative, but I could make some suggestions." He looks over toward the tribeless Ahroun. "Me and Lucas both could."

"Maybe two empty heads can come up with something." Lucas says, looking back to the gaian Ahroun. "Alright, Kenneth... what /don't/ you want in a name?"

Kenneth goes back to staring towards a wall, seeking inspiration through nothingness. "Preferably something that isn't childish or corny sounding. This isn't a cartoon about superheroes or anything, y'know?" The philodox looks back to the other two.

Auggie nods. "A'ight, so we won't call you Batman or Little Bit," he decrees. He stands, and begins to pace, becoming restless as the gears in his head turn. "Well, let's start out with the obvious. You're Philodox, and you're a Shadow Lord, so maybe something havin' to do with judgment or Thunder. Also, you're kinda scrappy, so maybe something havin' to do with fighting."

"Did that already." Lucas mutters and scowls slightly. "Something a little less obvious would do better, I think."

"Call me Scrappy and I'll put a hole in your teeth the size of my fist," Kenneth warns. "And we thought of Judge-of-Thunder, but it seems real generic, yeah." Batman? Heh. The thought amuses the halfmoon. "Batman rocks, but y'get the feeling the elders wouldn't think the same."

Auggie snorts. "You could try," he responds to Kenneth's threat, offhandedly dismissing the threat. "Batman's silly," he says quickly. He continues to pace, thinking hard. "What about Judges-With-Fists?" he suggests, tilting his head to one side to watch the Slord's reaction.

Lucas chuckles at Auggie's suggestion, "And here I thought Shadow Lords were more subtle." It doesn't sound like he minds the name, but something to him needs, well, something.

Kenneth shakes his head. "Nah." Indeed, he'd want something less Get like. "Workin' on that, I swear it. But hanging out with you ahrouns doesn't make controlling tempers any easier."

Auggie shrugs when his suggestion is rejected, expecting that. "Told ya I wasn't creative. And controlling your temper's tough. You gotta work at it. Even ranked Garou lose it, you know." He returns to his seat on the haybale, shaking his knotty chin-length hair. "Maybe you should ask a Galliard to name you. Hell, my name's just about what color I am in the wolf forms. Black, like night. Dark-As-Night."

"That's how Megan named me at first, and I hated it." Lucas then smirks as an idea hits his head, and suggests. "Seeks-An-Edge? Or...Edgewalker, since sometimes you're more Ahroun than Philodox."

Kenneth picks that one up with a thoughtfully interested expression. "Edgewalker. Or just Edge. Sounds good. I was thinkin' Nightfall or something like that. Seeing as my wolf form's also black. Hell, we're like the real thing, all those legends of black wolves running around Europe and stuff." The philodox tests out both names in his head.

Auggie nods approvingly. "Those are both good. You could combine 'em, too. Night's-Edge. Edge-of-Nightfall. O'course, you start doing that and it loses some of the meaning," he reasons out loud.

Lucas smirks, "Ohwell, you just change your name anyway." The lost cub streches out his arms and yawns, getting up off the hay. "Well gentlemen, I'm going to head inside and actually get a shower, which I've been meaning to do since this morning."

"Yeah. But Edgewalker sounds somethin' good inside." Kenneth hitches a shoulder up. "See ya Lucas. Watch the pipes though - it's been acting up with the cold water."

Auggie nods to the lost cub as he rises to depart. "Yeah, okay. Have fun," he waves Lucas away. Turning back to Kenneth, he shifts his weight on the haybale and gives the Philodox a slight smile. "Edgewalker's good. Sounds pretty badass for a cub name."

Kenneth nods in agreement. "Edgewalker it is, then. Working title." The halfmoon looks pleased, if one could say that an extra glint in his eyes means happiness. "And yeah. Wonder that I wasn't born under a full moon. I used to fight a helluva lot when I was back in school." The teen then looks over to Auggie. "How 'bout you, man? How far'd you get before you got dragged into this?"

Auggie sniffs, scratching at his nose for a few seconds before answering. "School, you mean? Just eighth grade, but uh, I got held back some. I traveled around a lot, before I came here," he explains quickly. He doesn't seem ashamed of this information, but watches the other boy closely for his reaction. "I got in a lot of fights too. I was kind of picked on, in most of the places I was at. School sucked, I'm glad I don't hafta go anymore."

Kenneth only blinks, little judgement being passed in his expression. "It's summer vacation now," he continues musing. "Would be startin' tenth grade at St. Claire High this September, if it weren't for... this." His fingers lace together. "Got picked on too, but nothing that I wouldn't just give back. I dunno. Thinkin' about it now, seems pointless to go back, and at the same time, dumb not to. You don't really expect to just keep livin' here at the farmhouse and not talk to other nor-- other people do you?"

Auggie shrugs. "I'm not goin' back. Do eighth grade over *again*? Fuck no." He looks around, contemplative. "I don't plan to keep living here at the farmhouse forever. I figure I've got obligations to the folks who've helped me get to my Rite, so at least I should stay a while and help 'em defend the Caern for a while. I wanna find a pack, too. Maybe later, get a job loading freight at the docks, or whatever I don't need a GED for. Save up enough to buy a beater, travel around some and live outta that." He shrugs again. "As for *normal* people," he enunciates, Kenneth's little slip not lost on him, "they just get freaked out about me anyway. You know about the Curse? I figure the only friends I'll have will be either Garou, or kin."

"I do, but either way there's going to be someday I gotta talk to a regular human being," Kenneth responds. "Someone who /isn't/ Garou-related, even though yeah most of the kids in school looked at me funny. But you wonder how the Walkers do it then." There's just something about loading freight that doesn't appeal at all to Kenneth, and it shows just slightly in the straightening of his relaxed slouch. "I heard GEDs you can get just takin' a test. Then you can do university stuff if they let you in."

Auggie wrinkles his nose. "I hate school," he fires off quickly, in response to Kenneth's information about the GED. "Yeah, of course you're gonna have to talk to non-Garou-type people, but from what I understand it's never gonna be easy. I don't really give a fuck. I'm just glad I don't *have* to, now, because it always sucked. I think Walkers, and other richie tribes like the Silver Fangs, probably use their kin to deal with the outside. Kin do a lot of that stuff, that's why they're so important to us. We couldn't exist without 'em."

Kenneth inclines his head away, simply eyeing the ahroun and his reaction. "Hey, school's not for everyone." Obviously. The Shadow Lord's laced fingers separate, brushed against his jeans. "Dunno if you met Xia. She's Shadow Lord kin, and goin' to SCCU. So, yeah... let them do the PR and HR, and us the fightin'." He may not believe his own words, but they come out anyway.

Auggie nods, sensing Kenneth's discomfort with the arrangement. "That's the way it is, yeah, It's just the way Gaia made us." He stares hard at the other cub, his expression not very sympathetic. "Anyway, it's not a bad thing. You just gotta let go of your old plans, for your old life, and make new ones." The way the cub says this sounds as if it wasn't very hard for him to do just that. Maybe because, the Gaian didn't have much of a future, in his old life.

Auggie adds, "And no, I haven't met anyone called Xia."

"Like that hasn't happened already?" Kenneth snaps back, a little more touchy. His old life was good, to a degree. "I'm not going back to high school. Not after this. Hell, high school is like a picnic compared to living here."

Auggie purses his lips when Kenneth snaps at him, folds his arms. He scowls down at the Philodox, before forcibly clearing the expression from his face into something more neutral. When he speaks, his tone has a forced flatness to it, but as he goes on it becomes more gentle and sincere. "'Course you're not going back to high school. None of us do. But hey, listen, it isn't so bad here. Aside from a few assholes, people wanna see you adjust all right, and they wanna see you make it." He pauses a beat here, and adds, "Myself included. So if you ever need an open ear, or someone for sparring practice, you can look me up. All right?" He takes a few steps toward the barn doors, looking over his shoulder at Kenneth. "I'm gonna go get a bite to eat. I'll see you later, 'kay?"

[later...]

Farmhouse: Kitchen and Dining Room
Homey is the first word to come to mind when looking at the farmhouse's kitchen. Dark, wood-paneled wainscoting covers the walls to about waist height, dark beige wallpaper continuing to the ceiling. Twin refrigerators occupy the north wall, facing the large six-burner stove on the south. The kitchen counter runs the length of the eastern wall, broken only by the double-basin sink. Cabinets run above and below the counter and a twin-pane window is set in the wall above the sink. A small pantry is set into an alcove alongside the refrigerators, presumably holding the deep freezer as well as shelves of dry goods.
Some twelve feet above the floor, a large chandelier hangs from the ceiling, lighting the dining room and casting long shadows over the bar to the kitchen. A long table occupies the center of the dining room, three chairs setting along each side, and one on each end. On the west wall, a large window looks out on the trees alongside the western pasture. Set into the north wall is a large cabinet, its glass doors closed on shelves containing a full compliment of fine china and glassware as well as a few decorative nicknacks. On the east, a wide bar separates the dining room from the kitchen.
An opening in the southern wall allows passage to the front entryway of the house, while a sliding glass door in the kitchen opens to a clearing behind the house.
(Non-Garou, please "+view curse")
Contents:
Megan
Obvious exits:
Hallway/Living Room Back Door

The figure of Kenneth appears at the glass door of the kitchen, his hand going to open it up. Tennis bag slung over his left shoulder, his gaze is upon the handle of the door rather than looking inside to watch for immediate occupants.

Megan is standing at the stove, a large boiling pot sending tendrils of steam curling up into the air. The smell of something roasting permeates the late afternoon sun. She doesn't, immediately, notice anyone arriving, humming something to herself.

[Megan]
This woman is rather attractive in an Amazonian kind of way. She looks to be in her mid-twenties, with auburn hair falling in thick, loose waves around her shoulders, held in check by a flat cord of braided leather tied around her forehead. Frequent use has sculpted her 5'10" height into a body of strong muscle-definition, long of limb and long of torso, softened only by the definite feminine curves of full breasts and hips, and the inward dip of her waist. Her features display character: fresh, tanned skin stretched cleanly over the sharp edge of jaw, rounding at her chin, across a wide brow and gently sloping cheekbones. Finely arched eyebrows curve over expressive black-green emerald eyes, often found narrowed with keen interest or dreamy in inward contemplation.
There is no clothing between herself and the sky, but she is not completely without covering. Blue lines curve in esoteric patterns on the canvas of her skin, covering nearly every square foot of skin that can be reached by one person. A variety of scars are also visible amid the living artwork ('+detail Megan's scars'). Check '+detail Megan's info' for other things noticable.

The door slides open to admit Kenneth, but he doesn't immediately enter as he is washed over by the smell of good food, and the sight of the unfamiliar Megan cooking. Seconds pass as he stands there unmoving, just watching her without a word.

Megan turns to grab something out of a cabinet to her right, in the shortened divider between the kitchen and dining room, and only then notices Kenneth standing there. "Oh," she says with slight surprise, "hello there." Her eyes then narrow briefly, studying him.

Kenneth blinks as he's spoken to, which seems to break him from the spell of silence. "Yo." The short utterance is followed with him stepping in finally over the threshhold of the doorway. Something about Megan's demeanor, perhaps, has him less guarded than usual. Eyes dropping away from the woman's face and to the pot behind her, he unshoulders his bag and closes the door quietly behind him. "I'll be outta your way ASAP," he mumbles, thinking to round the woman and escape upstairs.

Megan's eyes narrow a little further, before they relax, and she gives the slightest of smiles. "I'm Megan, Fianna philodox. Who are you?"

The youth stops in his tracks before they can even begin, his eyes lifting back up. "Kenneth..." he begins as he looks over. This is the Megan that Lucas is talking about? Maybe - she seems to have something about her that matches the lost cub's words. "Kenneth Syuusuke Saitou-Sardelis, Philodox cub of the Shadow Lords." There's a brief pause as he adds in, "Edgewalker." Ah, it feels good to have something of a lupus name now. "You're the Sept Alpha, aren't you?"

Megan is standing in the kitchen, near the partial divider between the kitchen and dining room, speaking to Kenneth. Her jaw clenches briefly at something Kenneth has said, nostrils flaring. She nods curtly. "Yes, I am. I think I've heard your name mentioned as being out here."

"Yeah. Yeah, I figured... you're the only Megan I've heard of so far around here. Rhya." Kenneth notices the curt nod, and keeps his voice toned to a respectful level, looking anywhere but the eyes of the Fianna. That lands his gaze on Seeker as the Strider enters, and again, lack of recognition ensues. He doesn't greet the new face, though. Not yet.

[Seeker]
In his present surroundings, Seeker stands out in a crowd. His height, over six and a half feet tall, and his clothes are unusual for this part of the world. His dark skin and clothing suggest North Africa, particularly one of the nomad tribes, the Tuareg, perhaps. Seeker is whip-thin, but corded muscles stand out on his arms and legs. His face is long and gaunt, his expression always severe, unsmiling. Only one eye stares out intently at his surroundings, the other covered by a black eyepatch. On the left side of his face, a ragged, hairless scar rips from his lower jaw down to his neck. His feet are adorned with ancient leather boots which speak of countless hundreds of miles traveled in all terrain.
Carrying:
Scarab

Megan glances over, a moment of relief entering her expression as she recognizes the Warder with a curt nod. The smells of cooking permeate the air, the hearty smell of meat roasting, the mealy smell of potatoes boiling in a big pot on the stove. "Seeker," she says to him.

Seeker nods to Mara as she arrives, then turns his attention to Megan. "Alpha, I have accepted Mara here as a cub of my tribe."

Mara bounces slightly in place. "I'm a Strider. Or, well, I will be once I pass my Rite of Passage."

Kenneth glances amongst the three, only recognizing Mara the most. He takes a few steps, retreating further into the kitchen and giving himself a buffer zone from the three other Garou. "Congrats," he utters to Mara, though his eyes travel up to the very tall Seeker, then to the Alpha, and back again.

Megan ghosts a barely there smile. "Excellent. Have you lined up a theurge teacher for her?"

[Mara]
Mara is a petite woman-child in her early to mid teens, barely topping five feet. Her eyes are large and dark in a heart-shaped face. Her lightly bronzed skin and dark brown hair could come from any mix of ethnicity. Her hair is past her shoulders and pulled back in a braid. She wears a pair of worn, stained jeans and a plain grey T-shirt two sizes too big. Her battered sneakers are tied with a much newer pair of laces. She smells of sweat and pine.

Seeker nods. "Your packmate, Dakota, is already tutoring her in that regard, I believe."

Mara nods. "Yeah, she said she'd be willing. And I like her."

Megan blinks mildly. "That should get her ready to be cliath, at least. Good," she says to both of them, smile widening a fraction. "Dinner should be ready in about fifteen minutes," she says, returning to the stove.

Seeker pauses for a moment, then speaks quietly, "I assume you have heard about Gaia's Tears?"

Mara's head turns to watch Seeker out of the corner of her eye. She hasn't heard about this and she listens carefully.

Kenneth reshoulders his tennis bag. His eyes stray past Megan, towards the hallway. He remains silent still, listening in but not particularly contributing.

There's a moment's pause and the silence, before Megan turns to look back at Seeker with mild surprise. "Oh, me? Yes," she says, with a slight frown. "Reggie told me about it, last week. The Caern that fell. Are there any more details than that?

Seeker shakes his head. "I have not heard many details, only that their Great Hunt failed and led to the downfall of the caern. Some of the Wendigo want to organize and try to take it back, but I want to know what we would be up against if we tried. We could elicit help from other caerns."

"Which Wendigo?" Megan asks. "Jacinta? Michael? The ones who are talking about forming a Guardian pack for *here*? Or, Wendigo from other Caerns?"

Kenneth stands there still silently, listening to the conversation, the words sort of registering as important. "Where's this place...?" he asks quietly, keeping his voice neutral despite something that rings deep as wrong with the words caern and fall put together.

Seeker says "I have heard that Jacinta wished to fight for Gaia's Tears, although she seems hot-headed to me. Gaia's Tears was a Wendigo caern, I believe she spent some time there."

Mara's eyes widen at the comment about the fallen Caern. She leans back against the counter, watching the two adults carefully.

Megan looks to Seeker for the answer to Kenneth's question, but adds her own words to the conversation. "Jacinta and the Garou she wants to make into a Guardian pack is the closest thing we have to Guardians." Her jaw sets stubbornly. "I would be sort've pissed off if they were to take off to go try to save some Caern that has fallen and leave *us* here unprotected again. Especially since they were the only thing between the Black Ones and the Caern during *our* Great Hunt."

Kenneth looks between the two elders, seeing as his question hadn't been answered. "So... is it a lost cause? Or is it possible to get it back?"

Seeker turns to Kenneth. "Not far away to the north, near the Canadian border." He nods to Megan. "I would definitely advise them against it. I don't know if she intended to go herself, but she made her opinion clear. Perhaps some of those who attacked Gaia's Tears were left over from the Spirals we chased from this caern. Our caern was attacked during our Great Hunt, as was Gaia's Tears. They seem well-organized, attacking when the majority of the sept is drawn away. They must have a base of operations somewhere nearby."

Mara considers the issue. "I don't want our caern unprotected, but if they're that close... How can we ignore it?"

Seeker adds, "Or at least, they had a temporary base before they took Gaia's Tears. Now they have a source of power and a base which they could easily use to attack this caern again."

Megan's jaw clenches so tightly, her teeth grind. "Well, I didn't entirely think they'd completely left the area after the Caern here was re-taken. Have you talked to Scourge about possibly going after the Black Ones up there? Their damn totem is all about that kind of thing, and they're *not* Guardians."

Kenneth tightens his grip against the strap of his tennis bag, glancing at Mara, then back to the elders, as the second law of the Litany seems a lot more relevant now than it did before.

Mara glances out the window and then turns back to the two elders. "If they were coming here, how would we know? I mean, what should we be watching for?"

Seeker shakes his head. "I haven't spoken to anyone else about attacking Gaia's Tears yet." He turns to Mara. "That is difficult to tell. We should be on our guard to the north, but the caern is vulnerable to attack from moonbridge, as on the night of the Great Hunt. Send out scouts or spirits for reconnaissance."

"Or through the Umbra," Megan comments. "Or from any one of them who learned the outer wards during their time here." She turns to Mara, and says, "Unfamiliar Garou on the Bawn. Unfamiliar *people* on the Bawn. Signs in the Umbra, when we can get there, indicating an increase in Wyrm activity. That's about all we *can* do, unless we can find some way to replace the Inner Wards," she says, shooting a look to Seeker, then pushes herself away from the counter. "I'm sorry, can you excuse me? I need to fetch something outside."

Getting out of the alpha's way, Kenneth steps to one side. "Guess that's one reason to be glad there's a lotta ahrouns around," he says as a side comment.

Mara nods. "Watch and wait, huh? Is there any way to gain an advantage? Decide the fighting ground? I mean, you seem pretty certain it will happen sooner or later."

Seeker nods to Megan before she leaves. "Good night." He turns to Mara. "That is our job, as Striders, to watch for signs of the Wyrm. I'm not entirely certain they will attack here, but the Spirals are definitely a threat. Our caern and sept is much larger and better-defended than Gaia's Tears. They will need to grow in strength and numbers before they attack us. Once this caern was overrun when we were not expecting an attack. That will not happen again. Not while I am Warder of this caern, at least."

Mara cocks her head to one side. "I kind asked this alrady, but how do you spot the Wyrm coming? Something tells me it's not about to put an announcement in the paper."

Kenneth lifts his chin slightly once Megan is gone, still not saying much. "You can't. Not without some sort of Gift, or if they just have big signs that point down and say, 'I am the Wyrm.' Seriously, though... there's a lotta messed up stuff."

Seeker says "The gift of detecting the Wyrm's presence can be fooled, however. We must be vigilant."

Mara's expression is serious. "What can /I/ do to help? Ot is this another one of those 'leave it to teh adults' things where cubs get to sit by the sidelines where it's safe?"

Kenneth snorts at that. "Like hell I'll sit around. Training everyday to learn how in the hell to take down a 10 foot werewolf is a starting point."

Seeker says "There is little you can do physically now, but keep your eyes and mind open, watch for the signs. Corruption, pollution, violence and misery. These things follow in the wake of the Black Spiral Dancers."

Mara says "Okay, see, that's not fair. I'm not even eight feet tall in crinos. Besides, I'm not a fighter. At least, not primarily a fighter. What Seeker's talking about is more my thing. Watching. Seeing. Listening. I want to know what I can do as a Strider and a Theurge. Not as cannon fodder.""

Kenneth eyes Mara, but doesn't quip another comment. "We do what we can," he replies evenly, hitching the strap of his bag a little higher on his shoulder.

Mara says "Exactly. And fighting is only one thing. And not my strongest skill.."

Seeker says "You are not a fighter yet, but I will train you. We must all fight for Gaia. You can do your part, theurges can heal those injured in battle and call spirits to our aid."

Mara nods. "Thank you. I don't want to seem like I'm afraid to fight. I'm not. But try to be honest about my strengths and weakness -- and play to my strengths."

"An' what do you think halfmoons should be doing?" Kenneth asks of Seeker. "Kenneth Saitou-Sardelis, by the way. Edgewalker, philodox cub of the Shadow Lords."

Mara stands up. "Thank you for the information, Seeker. I need to seek out Dakota for some of that learning."

Seeker nods to Mara. "Good night." He turns to Kenneth. "I am Seeker, fostern ahroun of the Silent Striders. You can help by fighting, planning and mediating disputes. They always arise when preparing for war."

"Except in this case, I've never seen a Black Spiral Dancer before. And I've never been in a war," Kenneth comments, hands slipping into his jean pockets. "Not that that's any excuse, but it does help to know what you go up against when you're playin' against someone."

Seeker nods. "Their homid forms can look like anyone, but their crinos forms often have long, bat-like ears. Many are metis, so they are often deformed and sterile."

Kenneth glances to the stove, where the Fianna elder had left her pot boiling. "But being metis doesn't automatically make one a Spiral," he says calmly, breaking down the logic.

Seeker says, "Of course not, but they have no compunctions about violating the First Tenet." He frowns in distaste.

Kenneth rubs a hand over his throat. "Suppose not. Just another reason to get rid of 'em. So, if I remember right, you're the Warder, yeah? Which makes you top authority about the caern area and stuff."

Seeker nods. "I am the caern's guardian, yes."

"It true that cubs aren't allowed on the Bawn or the caern?" Kenneth continues, eyes gazing at the Strider elder intently.

Seeker shakes his head. "Cubs are not allowed to *leave* the bawn unaccompanied. You are on the bawn now, in fact. Cubs that wander away from the bawn by themselves are potentially easy prey for Black Spiral Dancers, or worse, recruits."

Kenneth glances around. "This is part of the bawn? No one told me," he says. "That include a lot of the forest here too, then? I mean, hell I go running every morning and night, don't see a thing out there."

Seeker says "Yes, the grounds around the farmhouse are on the bawn. The bawn is protected by spiritual defenses called wards. They prevent humans from finding the bawn and protect the caern from weaker banes. Your tribal elders have the final word on where you may venture unattended."

You say "And you and Megan-rhya were saying the inner wards or something weren't working?" The philocub tilts his head. "Maybe the theurges are supposed to be fixing it."

Seeker nods. "They were destroyed when the Spirals originally invaded the caern. As Warder, I am responsible for them. Normally, the outer wards are sufficient, but I agree with Megan, the inner wards must be re-established and strengthened."

Kenneth hitches a shoulder. "Sounds harder than it looks. But what about like, regular traps and ambush points, that sort of thing?"

Seeker nods. "They may be effective, although I am loath to resort to the same tactics the Spirals used when they took the caern. The bawn was littered with traps and mines when we tried to take it back."

"Guess it would be a pain if a human got stuck in one," Kenneth muses, approaching the fridge and grabbing a drink from it. "Doesn't look like this place got hit, at least." He glances around again, opening up his drink with a fizz of carbonation release.

In the front rooms, Cutter raps on the front door sharply as he enters, cane thumping along the hardwood floor.

Seeker snorts. "If a human managed to get onto the bawn, getting caught in a trap would be the least of his worries. No, they left the farmhouse alone." He stands and stretches. "Excuse me, I must begin my patrols now. Good night."

Kenneth takes a seat down at the table, nodding once in farewell at the Warder before tipping back his drink. "See ya, Seeker-rhya," he replies after a few quick swallows. His head turns at the sound of cane and hardwood floor in the front room, but he doesn't move from his spot.

Cutter strolls in, looking suave and urrah with his suit, fedora and silver-headed cane. He dips his head to the two on his way to the refrigerator.

Seeker nods to Kenneth and Cutter, then exits out the back door.

Kenneth glances up from his drink, looking over at his elder with a nod. "Lookin' smooth as usual, Cutter-rhya. How's it hangin'?" he comments with a slight smirk.

Cutter glances over his shoulder as he fishes a tasty beverage out. "Hopefully I'll be able to give up this third leg soon. Although I'm considering keeping the thing--it gives me a certain air. Makes me seem older."

Kenneth regards the cane. "It does go with the suit," he replies, more curious about Cutter's leg injury. "So you're still healing up the leg? What's takin' so long about it?"

Cutter bumps the refrigerator door shut with a hip and smiles drily. "Well, it was gnawed to the bone in two different places by leviathan rats. I wasn't sure at first if it would ever heal."

Kenneth looks back down to the leg, as if trying to see through the pant leg. "That sucks," he states obviously. "But it'll heal up fine, right?"

"That is my current impression," Cutter says, crossing to the table. With a complex arrangement involving shuffling the cane, the bottle and a chair, he opens the soda. "I'll show off the grotesquerie sometime if you want. But the reason I stopped by was to check up on you. I think I'm going to be taking you out into the woods sometime soon--I haven't found anyone I like better."

Kenneth drinks down some more cola, looking from shuffling elder to the woods outside through the glass door. "Yeah? Awesome. After hearin' stuff about a caern falling out somewhere up north and the Spirals coming around soon again, I think I'd want to be prepared too."

Cutter says "Homework. If you aren't already comfortable with it, I want you to practice moving from form to form." He tugs a torn, bloody t-shirt from under his jacket and flips it on the table. "Then get used to the smell of this. Get familiar with it.""

Kenneth moves his soda away before the t-shirt contacts it. Peering at the shirt, he looks from clothing to Cutter. "Who's is it? Or maybe I should ask, who's blood is it?"

Cutter smiles that smile again. "That's not important, yet. Once you track down the owner, it will be." He turns and starts moving toward the door.

Kenneth blinks again, looking at the shirt, to the departing elder, then back to the shirt. "Wh-- hey, hold on," he starts, standing up from his chair, the drink left on the table. He starts to say or ask something more, but stops. The cub looks down at the shirt again, trying to figure out something. "And when'm I supposed to look for whoever this shirt belongs to?"

Cutter pauses and looks back. "In a few days. When we go out into the woods and do wolfly things. Please be ready."

Unfolding the shirt, Kenneth looks around at the various bloodstains, if just to figure out what kind of person wears this sort of thing - and what happened to the poor soul. "Alright," he replies with a short, but suspicious nod. "I picked out a cubname too. With Lucas and Auggie. Edgewalker. Whaddya think?"

The shirt is a fairly small man's white cotton undershirt. It looks like it has two bullet holes in it. The blood is long dry.

Cutter grins. "You have the luxury of choosing your first deed name, and you didn't make it sound like a heavy metal band or a rapper. Congratulations."

Kenneth furrows his brow. "Christ, I got to choose this whole time? The way Jarred-rhya and others talked about it, sounded like only elders could name you. Well hell, glad that's outta the way." The cub does look pleased though. "Was goin' for the non-metalhead kind of name. Didn't sound right if you were going to say Metallica in lupus."

Cutter dips his head. "Yeah, usually it gets picked for you. And for cubs it's usually something less than complimentary. Like 'Fucks up the Moot With His Clumsiness' or 'Gets Beat Up by Fuzzy Bunnies'. Kind of like boot camp there too."

Kenneth narrows an eye. "Great. Well, fuck that. I'll still go with the one Lucas suggested. Edgewalker." He nods, and picks up the shirt in his hand. "Something tells me this isn't going to just be runnin' around in the forest hunting stuff."

There might be a hint of actual mirth in Cutter's smile now. "Be ready. For whatever happens. I'll be back in a few days." He tips his hat genially. "And soon we'll send you on the Trial for your Rite of Passage."

Kenneth picks his gaze up from the shirt at the mention of rites. Though he doesn't say anything about it, there's a hint of curiosity in his eye. "Alright. See you then, Cutter-rhya." Folding the shirt back up as best he can, he slowly sits back down to resume his drink.