7/26/2004

03:48 PM
Logfile from GarouMUSH.

Currently the moon is in the waxing Gibbous Moon phase (63% full).
Currently in Saint Claire, it's a sunny day. The temperature is 76 degrees Fahrenheit (24 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from variable directions at 5 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 30.08 and falling, and the relative humidity is 46 percent. The dewpoint is 54 degrees Fahrenheit (12 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

Perfectly predictable, Lucas is to be found in his favorite haunt. Sleeping. He's laid out on the hay like an organic mattress, his hands folded under his head as a pillow and his eyes closed. He's snoring quietly, looking rather comfy.

And predictably, peaceful sleep was not meant to last very long - for the light sleeper anyway - as Kenneth slides open the the barn door, enters, closes it and proceeds to stretch out into his crinos form for a go at the bag. Or he would have, except he sees Lucas sleeping there.

With all the commotion, Lucas was bound to wake up. He wasn't really sleeping, just napping. He wouldn't be sleeping when he should be learning, would he? One blue eye slowly opens, spotting the big, black crinos. "Just get back today?"

~No,~ the crinos replies, black ears swiveling about. ~Stayed in the woods last night.~ Inhaling deeply, the philodox's muzzle wrinkles and relaxes. ~You?~

The smell of roses drifts into the barn on a breeze through the gap of the half-open door.
Lucas shrugs his shoulders and isn't in any hurry to be getting up off his hay bed. "Same old, same old. So the woods, eh? What was that like?"

Sniffing again with the scent of roses, Edgewalker turns his head towards the barn door. ~Cold,~ he replies in answer to Lucas. ~But with fur it is ok.~ Golden eyes narrow, gazing intently at the barn door in expectation.

Lucas raises up an eyebrow as the dim bulb on his face finally catches the scent. Blinking, he furrows his brows, but seems to shrug it off. "Yeah, like in here. The hay keeps it a bit warmer, tho'."

Edgewalker sniffs again, before he shifts down to something less Veil-breachy. The fur stays on as he slides into the lupus, giving his ruff a quick shake and padding deeper into the barn. Smells better out in the woods, the halfmoon comments. Cleaner. Better than here, too.

Cutter grunts as he pushes open the door. "Not my fault. Stupid new shampoo."

Lucas pats the hay under him. "I think it's comfortable enough." He says in a casual defense of the barn, then glances to Cutter as he enters the barn. "Good afternoon, Cutter-rhya." He says politely enough, though a bit suprised to see him.

Edgewalker turns his head to look at Cutter, sniffing intently now that the source has come out. Being in lupus, he doesn't hide the amused flicker of his tail. He greets the elder with a chuff as well.

Cutter says "I'm glad I found you gentlemen. Lucas, I wanted to tell you that you're welcome to go on your Passage test with Kenneth, even if you don't want to join the tribe."

Lucas can't hold back his eyebrow that arches. "Wow... that was 'down to buisness'. Um..." The cub finally does straighten himself up and sit upright, picking a bit of hay off his shirt sleeve. "Actually, I've been trying to decide just what tribe I wanted, and out of all of them, I'm considering your's the most."

Edgewalker immediately perks his ears, looking to the crescent moon then the full. He hasn't heard this news. But, plunking his tail down onto the floor, the philodox whuffs a supportive call. The only thing tempering it, is his question. I thought passage tests would determine one's ~tribe.~

Cutter nods. "They do, so he'd need to decide before hand. And I'm certainly not opposed to his choosing us. You don't need to be the same tribe to take the trial."

"Well, frankly, I planned on choosing asap. No later than a week after the moot." Lucas says as he shrugs his shoulders, "But at this point, I think I've got all my options. I do have one question, tho', that I've been wondering. If I'd pick to be a Shadow Lord, what would be expected of me?"

Edgewalker doesn't answer the lost cub's question, rather, looking to the theurge. Though, the cub rumbles out a thought on how he thought spirits also overlooked passage tests as well.

Cutter cocks his head. "The Rite itself is usually tribe specific, but that's harder here where not many people know the rite and there are so many tribes present. The trial is to see if you're ready to become part of the Nation." He leans on his cane and thinks. "Expected. Serve the good of the Nation. Serve the good of the tribe. Don't be a dick. Follow the Litany. I think that covers most of it."

Lucas nods his head, tapping a finger against his knee. "Then, I mine aswell make my decision now, while you're here and stop wasting time. I had it decided awhile ago, I just kept second guessing myself and seeing if I didn't want something else more. I want to be a Shadow Lord."

Edgewalker's ears sink slightly at the theurge's words, then perk back up towards Lucas. Licking his muzzle, he chuffs approval. Fears-No-Dark would be great as one.

Cutter shows teeth when he smiles, extending a hand as he leans toward Lucas. "I'll see that you don't regret your decision," he says warmly. "Or, if you do, that you never live to tell anyone."

Lucas reaches out to take the hand in a firm, buisness-like shake. "That sounds like a deal." He says with a grin. "Besides a gruesome death, that sounds like the only other Garou thing that comes with a guarentee."

Edgewalker grunts, as close to wry as a wolf can get. Then he looks up to Cutter again. You gave me a bloody ~shirt~ not long ago. You have not said what it was for.

Cutter turns toward the furry Lord. "*That* was the other reason I came out. Are you ready?"

Lucas raises a brow, looking like he's familiar with this shirt subject as he looks between the fostern and fellow cub, curious as to what this was all about.

Edgewalker is ready as he can be, the cub answers, eyes straying from theurge to ahroun and back again. Then he gets up, trotting to a very far corner of the barn and digging around in some hay piled there before extracting the shirt and bringing it back. At this point, he looks up to the theurge as well, in inquiry to what this is actually for.

Cutter looks to Lucas. "Are you staying or going?" he asks simply.

"I'll go. I didn't get hauled around the woods following that shirt for nothing." Lucas says and stands up from the hay, giving a quick look towards Kenneth.

Edgewalker slowly gazes back up to the ahroun, noting that again, the fullmoon smells a lot better now than when they came back at least.

Cutter frowns curiously at Lucas. "You what?"

"...oh fuck you." Lucas grumbles towards the lupus-formed cub, lacking malice in place of annoyance. The fullmoon turns his eyes slowly towards Cutter, and with obvious hesitance, says, "A skunk had come by and covered the trail of the shirt. I though I was tracking the shirt. Found the skunk."

Edgewalker simply tips an ear at the other cub, not indicating much else.

Cutter says "Okay then. This will be a lot of fun."

Lucas follows suit and takes the form of the wolf, using a quick second to shake out his fur and adjust himself. He's ready to go.

Edgewalker looks to the shirt on the ground, then back to Severs. Bring it, or leave it?

Severs shakes his ruff. Matters not to me. Carry it, can't smell anything else.

Fears-No-Dark flicks an ear and doesn't add anything as he looks between the other two, just listening and ready to follow along.

Edgewalker leaves the shirt then, looking expectantly to the Shadow Lord elder and waiting to follow his lead.

Severs trots out the door into the yard, not looking back.

Farmhouse: Fields
What once was worked cropland has been, over the last several years, allowed to go to seed, and the result is the natural prarie which has developed, enclosed on three sides by the forest. It covers several acres of land with grasses as high as a person's waist, large enough to be out of earshot of the barnyard but uniform enough that anyone in bipedal form could be seen approaching through it.
The looming buildings of the farm can be seen to the south.
Contents:
Fears-No-Dark
Severs
Obvious exits:
BarnYard

Severs trots through the yard, out into the fields behind the Farmhouse and on beyond until he comes to an area where the grass has been all trampled down. Here he stops. Now go. Find.

Stepping up to the flattened grass, Fears-No-Darkness eyes the local curiously and begins to sniff around to try and pick up the smell he gotten fairly familiar with.

Edgewalker wrinkles his muzzle, blinking a couple of times before sniffing at the ground where the grass has been trampled. Tail flicking in thought, the halfmoon heads out to where he thinks is the center of the area, sparing a glance back to the theurge. Nose to the ground, the halfmoon begins systematically sniffing for something out of the ordinary, or something familiar, moving in an ever spiralling outward pattern.

The familiar smell is here, the sweat and the coppery tang of blood as well. Strong in the middle, much less so further out. The trail leads deeper into the woods, toward the caern.

No skunk. Good. Fears-No-Darkness snorts as he passes past Edgewalker, pausing at the center to get a good noseful of the blood scent and goes to follow it towards the woods.

Edgewalker sniffs deeply when the scent is strong, head lifting up briefly as he looks towards the ahroun to see how he's doing. Then with a chuff, he follows after, concentrated on keeping the scent for now and trusting tracking instinct to do some of the work. At some point, the halfmoon ends up not far from the ahroun's side. Not a skunk, no.

Severs trots along behind, quietly observing and taking detailed mental notes.

The scent leads to the edge of the smalls tream just off the bawn, and fails to continue on the far side.

Fears-No-Dark settles into a long-legged, easy stride that'd made for travel. His nose keeps soaking in the smell, his ears pricked high on his head to keep tabs on their surroundings. Once the stream is reached and the trail broken, he pauses, looking first in the water to see if there are any signs.

Edgewalker reaches the streambank not long after, looking at the water briefly. The halfmoon grunts, then looks to the fullmoon. We can split up again. You take this side, I will take the other. That noted, the halfmoon makes his way across, sliding just as easily into the water and coming out of it to search along the far bank.

No, there's no body in the stream. Any evidence of its passage, aside from a heel trail in the mud on the near side, has been swept away.

Fears-No-Dark steps out into the water and follows it upstream, keeping an eye on the banks for any signs of other disturbances. His nose keeps sniffing, eventhough he doubts he'll yet find any trace of the scent.

Edgewalker sniffs about on the far bank for some time, even though his eyes are open and ears listening in. The philodox pauses in his search to look around at the trees nearby for clues, licking his muzzle and snorting aloud.

About fifty feet downstream, the trail resumes. In the soft mud beside the stream is another heel drag plus half a boot print and a small circular indentation that is full of water.

Crossing and recrossing the stream a multiple amount of times in searching for a trail, once he finds the mark, Edgewalker flags his tail up to let Fears know where the trail resumes. He scratches a mark into the soft mud of the stream bank as well, before continuing to follow the trail of the heel and scent. There's something definitely up though, that has the halfmoon's growing interest in finding what's at the end of the trail.

The trail moves deeper into the forest, winding around through the trees, occasional broken grass and shrubbery showing where somebody was dragged past. Then the ground gets rockier, rising up into a hill, and the scent becomes harder to track. A wide smear of blood on the rock indicates that this is still the right trail.

Fears-No-Dark plods through the creek and after the halfmoon, again tagging his trail. He lingers at the blood stain, and for a few moments, tries to identify what might have dragged the body, or bits, along this trail.

Edgewalker tracks fast, though perhaps a little recklessly in his curiosity. Once the smear of blood on the rock is reached, the philodox stops momentarily to regard it and the direction it's smeared in for a second, before continuing on ever deeper into the wood.

The trail is lost on the rocky ground, but up ahead is an inviting dark gaping hole which leads into a cave in the hillside. Whatever you're following probably went right in there!

Fears-No-Dark eyes the cave, which does seem a likely place. Not finding it all kosher to his gut feelings, however, the Ahroun bulks himself up into the dire wolf form for the added padding - just in case something doesn't like two cubs encroaching on its turf. He approaches warily, with eyes, ears, and nose on full alert.

Edgewalker looks to the cave as well, checking out the rocks around when the trail goes away. The halfmoon, seeing the ahroun shift, doesn't yet do the same. Sticking his nose close to the ground on one side of the cave's mouth, he sniffs for a scent again.

What little evidence there is seems to suggest that, yes, this is the way. About six inches in front of the opening a sharp spur of rock is a tuft of fabric.

Fears-No-Dark eyeballs the fabric, then steps further into the cave, bristling out of anticipation as he eagerly searches for more sighs of their target.

Edgewalker follows the ahroun in, remaining in lupus as he first checks to see if there is room for two hispo. Were the cave big enough, he shifts up as well, the transition to the nearwolf a lot smoother than before.

The cave is big enough for a single dire wolf, but not two. Very quickly, the cave and two large bodies block out the light. Ahead, the familiar smell grows stronger. And there's a malicious snarl.

The growl is returned lowly, warning instead of malice. It's the Ahroun, his hackles up and his pupils blown up wide until his eyes are nearly black, trying to use any bit of light there is to see, his nose working when his eyes cannot, to try and quickly determine what the hell is growling at him. His teeth are bared and his body tense, ready to fight the best he can in such confined space.

Edgewalker's ears lay back at the sound of an unfamiliar growl and the ahroun's returned one. Tension growing as well as, his hackles puff out as he tries to look around the bulky ahroun's form. Fears, shift down and let the light in, he growls aloud, half annoyed.

The bulky ahroun can vaguely see a bulky form looming over what might be a body. There is a brief gleam of light off an eye.

Fears-No-Dark has no apparent desire to shed his extra power, and only presses his shoulder in closer to one wall to try and give the light some passage past. There's another growl and the stamp of a platter-sized paw, demanding identification should the whatever-it-is understand him... and choose to answer.

Severs pages to the room: The thing lurking ahead of you is Severs, looking to see how you handle the situation. He's looming over a cloth mannequin dressed in Cutter's clothes and with a lot of Cutter's blood on it. That's why there's not another scent in the trail.

Severs pages to the room: The round depression by the stream was his cane from when he dragged the body out earlier.

Edgewalker growls heavily again, but can't do anything with the hispo in the way. With the ahroun pressing against a wall, he tries to have a look around the ahroun's shoulder, sniffing again at the air and not smelling anything out of the ordinary. No bear, no nothing.

Fears-No-Dark remained puffed up like an angry porcupine, eyeing first the wolf, then the stuffed body. Slowly, one by one, the wheels click into place. He snorts loudly, flattening back his ears and stopping his growls.

Severs yaps!

Edgewalker angrily snaps at the ahroun and shoulders his way through when he can, determined to find out what is at the end of it. When he finds it's Severs, the cub snorts as well, looking from elder to mannequin.