8/3/2004

12:52 PM
Logfile from GarouMUSH.

Currently the moon is in the waning Full Moon phase (83% full).

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:
Chaney
Lucas
Jana
Obvious exits:
BarnYard

Lucas slowly twists his gaze off the floor and towards Jana as she announces her intentions on leaving. "If you see Natalie before I do, could you tell her I need to talk to her?" He asks, his voice gone a bit subdued.

Chaney pauses, looking over at the two, then goes back to punching the bag, contentedly working up a good sweat.

"I don't know Natalie but if I meet her I'll pass the word." Jana raises an eyebrow slightly but refrains from asking finally. "That'll have to do."

Lucas nods his head to the Fang. "Thanks." He says, glancing briefly over to Chaney, and then turns his eyes on the furthest edge of the barn from him, staring at nothing.

Kenneth opens up the barn door and enters with little flourish, stopping as he notices there are people around. Unfamiliar people, that is. He doesn't call for Lucas this time, rather, choosing to stand just in front of the doorway as he slides it closed.

Chaney stops punching the bag for a moment to look over at the door, staring over at the new arrival with an open, frank expression, her hands still curled into fists from her bag-practice.

Jana's head twists at the opening of the door and she stares at the incoming young man. There's a hint of an arrogant challenge on the theurge's face along with a flash of recognition. She heads toward the door, giving the young man a tight smile.

[Jana]
There is something that is striking about Jana, something that hints of a proud heritage. Perhaps its the way she carries herself, with perfect poise. Perhaps it's the look in her eyes, one that says she knows her worth and it is considerable. Her face certainly helps, what with her perfectly spaced crystal blue eyes and straight nose placed above a mouth meant for smiles and well-formed chin, sculpted features that hint at past glories. Her shoulder length pale blonde hair seems to enhance that, going well with the pale hue of her skin. Of average height at about five foot three, she has a sleek figure, a hint of substance in her limbs despite the fact that she looks to be in her late teens. She seems one to catch the eyes with her movements and looks, that undefinable spark of something -more-.
Elegant and glamourous, Jana is wearing a fashionable silk shirt, the neck cut so that it comes down off her shoulders. The silk is a pale icy blue, unsuitable for any but the most pale of blondes. Perhaps as a conscious contrast, she has a pair of very designer slim dark jeans, coming down over the tops of her dark brown expensive-looking boots.

Lucas remains seated on the hay, which he picks at with his first two fingers, watching it flutter to the ground.

Kenneth's eyes draw to Jana first as she approaches his spot in front of the door. The challenge is shortlived. With the cub's nod of recognition and submission, along with a short, politely neutral "Jana-rhya", he steps aside to let her go on her way. Once he does, his eyes swing to Chaney and examines her from a distance.

[Chaney]
Chaney is a tall girl, near six feet tall and, it seems, all arms and legs; she looks like a shoe-in for the high school girls' basketball team. She's pale-skinned, liberally freckled, and sports a thick mass of dark auburn hair that doesn't appear to have seen a brush or a pair of scissors in years. Behind that tangle lurk wide, often confused blue eyes and attractively youthful features -- straight nose, high cheekbones, a narrow chin and full lips. At a guess, she's in her late teens.
She's currently dressed in a big pink t-shirt with a doe-eyed kitten on the front and a pair of baggy pink sweatpants with a white stripe down the outside of each leg. The sweatpants have been hacked off at the knees to turn them into shorts, which bares coltish legs lightly dusted in reddish hair. Her feet are bare.

Chaney's fists drop from the 'ready' position as the tall, sweaty girl walks directly over to Kenneth, going well into his personal space.

Jana hesitates for a moment, turning to watch the interaction between the cubs after she says simply, "Kenneth."

Lucas eventually glances up and spies Kenneth, whom his gaze settles firmly on. He pulls himself up off of the hay but doesn't approach, instead watching Chaney closely.

Kenneth simply stands in place as Chaney approaches, his eyes rising up a touch to meet hers in unbroken gaze. A definite sense of restraint surrounds him as the Walker cub invades his miniature forcefield.

Chaney's nostrils flare. Frowning slightly, she stares back at Kenneth. She huffs, moving in closer, obviously asserting herself before the other cub.

Jana should have already left at this point. But the theurge remains by the door, watching the interaction between the cubs with sharp eyes.

Lucas furrows his brows as he watches the silent display, coiling one hand into a fist and drawing in a deep breath.

Kenneth straightens, eyes not even blinking in a staredown against the lupe-in-homid. The Shadow Lord is still calm on the outside.

Chaney is much more tense, but apart from a couple of twitchy deepening-frowns, the young Ahroun doesn't look ready to frenzy. She sniffs in a couple quick breaths through her nose, then lets it out in a huffing exhale that gives the Shadow Lord a good whiff of peanut butter on the lupus cub's breath.

Kenneth on the other hand, narrows his eyes and stares for a long moment longer at the cub. Finally with a frustrated growl, he has to blink, and looks away. "I don't have time to waste on you," he snorts, taking a step back and going around the ahroun rather than through.

Jana's chin raises slightly and she nods to herself, filing that bit of information away. "You need to show her your throat now, Kenneth. Anyway, you three behave yourselves," she drawls in her southern accent before exiting the barn.

Chaney doesn't move, letting the defeated Shadow Lord go around her. Though she doesn't smile, the lupus is obviously quite pleased with herself.

Lucas gives a vague growl under his throat that could easily be missed unless someone way paying attention to him or had good ears. He's not even looking at Kenneth now, his eyes instead settled firmly on Chaney.

Kenneth jerks his head around, now glaring at the Fang's direction. A heavy curse nearly makes it out of him, but he bites down on his tongue hard enough to draw blood and looks back towards the far end of the barn. The halfmoon continues on until he's beside Lucas. Broody Shadow Lords unite.

Chaney doesn't notice Lucas or has already dismissed him from her attention for some reason. Let the human-born boys brood and sulk; the lupus is too busy considering the punching bag some more. But, evidently, it's not what she wants at the moment, so without a word she turns her back on all of them and heads for the door at an easy stride.

Bristling in frustration, Lucas feels that angry cramp in his belly again and has half a mind to let the beast out, just to shut it up. But he refuses it's pleas and sets his jaws, looking like a bottle of Coke that's been shaken up until the plastic is as unyielding as a stone.

Kenneth glares daggers at Chaney's back, but just as quickly shakes his head with a few jerks. "Fuckin' hell of a full moon, ain't it?" he growls aloud, stepping over to the very spot where Chaney had been standing beside the punching bag. Again, he looks to the barn doors. "Who was that?"

"Chaney." Lucas says in a voice that's more a growl than anything. "Lupus Glass Walker, and a cub." And to the other Lord, the brief sparks of hatred might be heard in his voice, but just why it's there is left open for thought.

Kenneth remains silent for a good minute, his eyes returned to the punching bag. By the time he speaks, his voice has returned to its cold, grey neutrality. "A lupus. Didn't think there were any here. Especially not for the Glass Walkers."

Lucas looks like he's about to say something, but doesn't. He just settles into silence again as he watches the barn door with hard, veiled blue eyes.

Kenneth turns then, exhaling loudly. "Don't let it get to you. If she's a lupus, it'll be some time before she'll be ready to rite as a Walker. They put their pride on city stuff, and that includes human interaction." The halfmoon says this in pure, untainted logical tone. "And besides, we have our own rites to worry about now. You saw the sept at moot. What'd you think?"

The logic seems lost on the more emotion-driven Ahroun, and his nerves don't seem at all eased. Seems there's far more to his anger, and not just the moon. "Distracted." He mutters, some form of an answer.

Kenneth clenches his jaw and releases. Then, the sharp report of the bag receiving a heavy punch from the philodox echoes into the barn. This is his reply, before he begins to remove the shirt off his body. His breathing is loud, control wavering around its irregular pace.

Lucas growls again, if just to release some of his tension, and stalks a short distance away. Finally, out of sheer frustration, he drops his form to that of the wolf. The brutal honesty of the form gives insight into just how deep his anger goes, but tempers it at the same time. The wolf's instincts have no time or understanding when it comes to human feelings like dissapointment and jealousy. His Rage is quick to flare with the change in forms, but dies back down when it realizes there is no danger around.

Kenneth gazes back at the shift to wolf, his shirt unbuttoned and slipped off. In seconds it is neatly folded and placed atop a haybale. "What's got you pissed off?" he asks after a moment's consideration.

Alas, the wolf is also incapable of lying, so the Nothing he would have replied with is obviously Something. His hackles bristling up, Fears-No-Darkness bares his teeth warningly, displaying his wish not to speak of it.

Kenneth pins a gaze on the ahroun for a split second before he looks off, accepting the ahroun's mood. A invisible dark curtain draws over his eyes and he goes back up to the bag. The silence of the barn is once again interrupted with reports of jabs and punches being thrown at the inanimate object. For once, the halfmoon pays no heed for the rage of the other cub.

No-Fear leaps up onto a bale of hay with a sharp motion. For just a second, it seems like he's eyeing it like a dog would a stuffed toy, there to be ripped and shredded to pieces. Again, however, he denies his rage and paces in a circle three times before collapsing in a thud onto the hay, curled in a quietly simmering ball.

Just so long as Kenneth's shirt remains untouched, the philodox continues his bag beating. Unlike the ahroun, Kenneth silently transfers his rage onto the object before him, abusing the bag with everything he's got. Punches, heavy kicks, even a headbutt is thrown in for good measure. The bout is fast, but also eventually slows after the first couple of flurries. He halts the bag with a hand, and only then looks to the sulky wolf.

Maybe Josh was right, when he said Lucas needed to learn control. Even for an Ahroun, the recently lost cub seems to lack much. Maybe that's why even the proud Silver Fang quickly took back her words when they prodded his anger. Fears-No-Darkness remained tensed, bristled. A small fly, attracted by the sweat and smell of living warmth, buzzes around the lupus. Blindly, he whirls his eyes towards it and snaps with a force more appropriate to breaking bone, and the insect is destroyed in his jaws.

Kenneth shakes his head again, and leans slightly against the bag though it gives way rather than acts as any good support. "Yo. You better get some of that Rage out of you before you do something you regret."

No-Fear grimaces at the sour taste in his mouth, licking his jaws to try and rid himself of it. How? He snorts out, flattens his ears tight against his skull.

Kenneth shrugs a shoulder. "I don't know. Stick your head in the freezer. Go on a run. Hunt something. Beat the bag here. Fuck, beat me. But if you keep snappin' at things the way you snapped that fly, you're goin' always lose it."

One ear twitches free of his head and stands a bit upright. It would seem that much logic does register on the Ahroun, but the beast in him still grumbles loudly, not liking to be told to be quiet. Fears-No-Darkness shoves himself up, sitting now. Maybe he should go hunt.

Kenneth simply nods once. "Hell, you could look for that skunk and deliver some payback."

No. The Ahroun huffs, and his disgust is marked with something else. Amusement? He will hunt something that doesn't smell so bad. Do you want to come?

Kenneth gazes off then in consideration of the offer, and then nods. "Sure. I'll come with." The philodox goes back over to his shirt and picks it up, depositing it atop a haybale more over by the corner of the barn floor. That done, he follows the ahroun out to wherever the wolf wants to go.

[To some creek.]

Small Creek
A small creek, no more than a mere trickle, winds through the forest. Small pebbles shine wetly as the water flows past them. The creek has worn a slight indentation into the forest floor and tree roots can be seen poking out of the soil near the creek. Moss grows on the banks of the creek, and the occasional mushroom can be seen sticking out from the soil near the roots of a tree. Scurrying sounds can be heard through the underbrush, probably from field mice or other small woodland critters.
The forest looms over the creek on all sides, looking mysterious and foreboding.
Contents:
No-Fear
Obvious exits:
Forest

After leaving the barn, Fears-No-Darkness had set off at a rapid pace that was aimed straight for the woods. He slowed little upon reaching them and immediatly began hunting for a trail of prey he could take down.

Kenneth doesn't shift until they are well into the woods, taking on his lupus form with fluidity as he moves through the forms. For the moment, he watches the ahroun cub sniff out for a suitable trail. The halfmoon lowers his nose to the ground as well, but he isn't really actively looking.

There's the smell of a deer that passed by this way long ago, and though the Ahroun pays keen attention to it, apart of him reminds himself hunting an animal that large and, by the smell healthy, would be difficult and dangerous. Reluctantly, he turns from that trail and seeks another.

Edgewalker follows after the ahroun like some dutiful beta rather than one trying to take the lead in the hunt. After a moment he thinks he smells out a trail of a rabbit, but it is days old and not particularly feasible.

Sniff sniff, stalk stalk. Fears-No-Darkness moves from one trail to the other, edging closer to the creek. There's pleanty of animals that come this way, thanks to the fresh water, but nothing he finds seems right. A lizard here, a mouse the next. All fresh and able to be killed, but the Ahroun doesn't seem satisfied with such small game.

Edgewalker sniffs some more, nose lifting from the ground to the air as he scents. You smell that? the halfmoon rumbles aloud.

No-Fear blinks back at the halfmoon, the black fur around his face tightening. What? He raises his nose in kind, sniffing closely.

That. Edgewalker repeats, sniffing again some more, taking a pace downstream. Nose working, the halfmoon pauses in his sniffing. Smells like blood and dead things.

No-Fear finally catches the smell and feels his fur stand on end. Curiosity rising up, he's quick to follow the smell and looks more than willing to go right past the halfmoon and towards the scene causing the smell.

Edgewalker blinks twice as the ahroun breezes right past him, before following after. The faint scent grows stronger with travelling time, always somehow close to the creek. The halfmoon rumbles wordlessly, staying flanked along the ahroun's side.

No-Fear seems fully intent on heading right for the source of the blood, his ears shot forward with alertness. He doesn't seem wary in the least that there could be danger ahead, and maybe in the pull of the moon, he's hoping for it. Come on, he gruffly says, picking up his pace.

Further on down the creek, the origin of the scent becomes apparent. The carcass of a deer, half eaten by some predator and chewed on by other smaller scavengers lies at the bankside, bloated with death. Flies buzz incessantly around the gruesome, tattered corpse. Edgewalker wrinkles up his nose upon the sight, even though the wolf-mind does not reject the smell.

No-Fear looks in all directions as he moves in close to the kill, his nose working to go past the smell of death and see what hunter brought it down. He feels his mouth grow wet and his stomach growl, but even the Ahroun is not fool enough to blindly bury his head in a carcass when the owner might be nearby.

Edgewalker sniffs as well, his nostrils filled with the luring aroma that sets his wolfmind a'slobber. Rounding the other side of the carcass he examines the animal with lashes of his tail to whisk away the flies. What do you think killed it? The halfmoon looks around as well, seeing nothing.

No-Fear eyes the wounds, but so bloated and further nibbled at, it's hard to tell just how it was killed. The Ahroun has no idea, maybe it was a Garou. He sniffs closer at the open wounds in the dead deer, seeing if anything unnatural registers, though he doesn't exactly know what poisons and disease smell like.

Edgewalker is about to reply with another rumble before a low hiss not from the cub interrupts him. He looks around and spots something he'd not seen before sitting at the edge of the treeline, puffed up with hostility. A life-sized, healthy cougar faces the two wolves at the carcass, tensed at the sight of its kill being taken over.

Dual instincts wake in the Ahroun. One is the wolf, eager to eat but knowing the cougar is stronger, faster, able to kill him with one blow. The other is his rage, whispering to him, telling him he can be stronger and faster than the cougar ever could be. Fears-No-Darkness shows his teeth, the beginning of a possesive growl forming in his throat as he looms close to the kill.

Edgewalker slowly rounds the kill so that he can take a point that is more to the side should the cougar attack. The halfmoon bares teeth in defensive gesture, a snarl and bristling of his dark fur going to show the cat just how healthy and capable of being dangerous he is. The cougar yowls angrily in reply to Fears, showing its hooked teeth and taking a step out of the wood's shadows towards the ahroun. The mountain cat's tail lashes behind it, as tensions grow.

No-Fear stands rigid with his tail and head held high. Though the cat may not understand the posture of dominance, it does show his healthy, his strength. He snarls and snaps, stamping a paw against the ground, tearing up the turf. He takes a step forward, then two, locking his blue eyes with the yellow of the cougar's.

Edgewalker casts his glance between the two facing off quickly, before he takes a step towards the cougar. The cat, noticing Edgewalker's approach, slides back a step and hisses again with violent intentions, golden gaze flickering between the two black wolves. Suddenly a paw swipes out at the air in front of Fears as the cat bluffs a strike, even if its claws are out.

The Ahroun's snarl is no bluff. It's loud, terrible in its intensity, and no longer just a warning. He lunges the short distance between himself and the wild cat, jaws gone wide as he snaps madly.

Both ahroun and cougar are quick, but the cat is fluid with every movement even in its most hideous moments of anger. The cougar backs up a few steps as the ahroun lunges, giving ground like a partner in a dance. Edgewalker bristles at the sudden flurry of strikes and snaps, and in an effort to drive the cat back further towards the creek, he too snarls, rounding upon the feline from the side and forcing its attentions to divide again. The cat, however, has definite focus on the ahroun. Fears must be standing at the best part of the kill.

No-Fear doesn't give the cat a moment's peace. He pours himself forward, openly attacking the cat head on and face to face. Heedless of its claws, he snaps straight for its whiskered face, intent on driving it back.

Brave as it may be to face off with a cougar, Fears' continued attack only serves to irritate the feline to the point of action. The two-hundred pound cat bunches up its hindquarters like a spring, and Edgewalker sees it too late before the mountain's lion has leapt straight for Fears, both heavy forepaws striking out. One cuff is hard enough that it drags and opens up gashes along the top and side of the ahroun cub's muzzle before he can snap again.

As he smells his own blood, the full fury of the Ahroun finally breaks out, unable to be restrained any longer by reason or sense. The two-hundred pound cat is suddenly outweighed by nearly seven hundred pounds as the dire wolf form is assumed. His eyes burning red, Fears-No-Darkness erupts forward like he'd been shot out of a gun, lunging for the cat with every intent to bear it straight to the ground under his heavier mass.

Edgewalker flattens his ears back when the ahroun shifts, as the chaos that would have erupted suddenly is diverted by the cat's surprised yowl at the cub's growth. That doesn't limit the agility of the mountain feline though, as it hastily dodges with a leap into the air, literally twisting like a whip around the snap of the direwolf's massive jaws. Once back on its feet, the cougar screeches earpiercingly and turns away, fleeing back into the shadows from the monster.

While even an angry Garou might heed the cougar's retreat, Fears-No-Darkness doesn't. As the cat screams, it's retreat is answered with a terrible roar, far more terrifying that it could ever utter, than anything the Ahroun has voiced before. The muscles under the thick, black coat bunch and the cub explodes into motion, taking off after the cat with every ounce of his rage, his frenzy, and more.

Edgewalker bites back a curse as the ahroun frenzies, the halfmoon taking off after the hispo. As the lupus halfmoon runs, he makes a significant amount less noise, smaller form and clear head helping him keep track of the ahroun. In less than no time, however, the hispo'ed ahroun has caught up with the cougar. Even though the cat is fast, the ambush predator is no match for the rage of Gaia's warriors. Soon enough the puma leaps up onto a tree and pulls itself up there, trying to take shelter in the tree.

No-Fear slams to a hault as the cougar dissapears from sight. He huffs and snarls, foam flying from his jaws as he snaps at the air, whirling around in ragged circles as he searches for his prey. His motions are too quick and come off jerky, his smell oozing an anger that just isn't natural.

Edgewalker hasn't caught sight of the cougar running up the tree, though he can maintain track on the ahroun's path. When the hispo screeches to a halt, he has to make a quick dodge around to avoid slamming into the other cub. Now he's shifted up to hispo, the black fur around him growing out like quills on a porcupine. It is then from behind the ahroun that the halfmoon snarls, annoyed that he had to chase him down, and even more that the ahroun hasn't kept his control.

With the cougar gone from his sights, the frustration of the Ahroun peaks into another roar, his claws digging deep into the ground and tearing canyons in the dirt. Again, he jerks around, searching pointlessly for a cat that is above him. Through the curtain of red, the only shape he can make out is that of the other cub, and Fears-No-Darkness growls.

Edgewalker bares his teeth, the full moon riding him as well, but he has better control. ~Control yourself, Fears-Nothing,~ the halfmoon warns sternly with a low growl deep in the back of his throat, his ears and tail up with instinctive dominance as he feels the need to take control.

The massive black Hispo snarls, his open jaw dripping with saliva and his eyes empty of reason or recognition. It would seem the emotions, the hatred and the jealousy that have been building in him, have finally resulted in driving him to the edge of madness. Behind his gaze of red, the Wyrm giggles with glee, savoring the sweet taste of insanity. Fears-No-Darkness stalks towards the other cub, growling, unaffected by the halfmoon's display of dominance.

Edgewalker's lips fall back halfway down his teeth, jaw slacking open as he pants, scenting the air and recognizing something wrong. A back paw digs into the ground as he lowers his head a level, hackles puffed everywhich way and up. ~Fears... Control Yourself,~ he growls out again.

Time seems to grind to a hault, as each step from Fears-No-Darkness seems to take minutes, hours. Closer and closer he edges, until the Philodox can smell the breath that spills from open, snarling jaws. It reeks of sickness that radiated outward, like he'd been infected with a spiritual rabies. Closer still, until the pupils of his eyes can be seen, shrunk down to pinpricks in a sea of swirling, mindless blue. Death haunts the edges of the wind, looking on, teased by the dread terror of the cat. It's then, when reason seems furthest away, something brings order to the chaos. Maybe it's Gaia, reaching down her hand to sooth the Thralled cub, pulling away the black slip of ooze from the back of his mind. Maybe it's just the desire not to kill the only friend he has. Whatever it is, clarity slowly begins to return to Ahroun's eyes, and he stops moving.

Edgewalker meets eye for eye this time without a single twitch or blink of his yellow gaze against the blue. The halfmoon's tongue hangs in anticipation of attack, yet he still stands his ground. Edgewalker doesn't move a millimeter from his spot, every muscle coiled to spring even as the ahroun's mind begins to recover itself.

The cub's ragged breathing returns to normal and fur slowly smoothes back down. As the fog finally clears from his vision and Fears-No-Darkness returns to himself, his form sags under the weight of a crushing exhaustion. He sinks down to the ground, losing the bulk of the larger form. He feels the weight of the air, the smell of his own crazed anger, and a look of horror crosses the Ahroun's expressions as he drops away his eyes as his muzzle falls against his foreleg, and there sprawled and drained physically and mentally, the cub's consiousness fades out into black.

Edgewalker doesn't shift down even as the ahroun's form slips down and shrinks to a less-threatening one. Licking the tip of his muzzle when Fears goes black with unconsciousness, the halfmoon looks about once more. It's then and only then, does the cougar reappear out of the tree it hides in and drops to the ground. With a frightened snarl at Edge, the cat bolts off into the darkness once more without so much as a look back. And once he's certain the puma will not return, the halfmoon allows himself to take a breather. Shifting back towards the furless forms, he stops at Glabro, and wordlessly picks up the ahroun's prone form, meaning to carry him back to the barn at the farmhouse.

[Kenneth carries Sleeping Beauty back to the Barn and deposits him there.]