10/1/2004

04:27 PM
Logfile from GarouMUSH.

Converted Warehouse - Shadow's End(#3589RAJh)

Track lighting along the 30 foot skylighted ceiling in this spacious complex accents the smaller sconces along the walls every 10 feet or so, keeping the entire area adequately lit, even while allowing shadows to play in odd areas during the night. Over all, the entire effect is dark and post-modern in places, warm and inviting in others. On one side of the lower floor, a spiral staircase leads up to a mezzanine that stretches along one entire side of the place. Two suites with separate baths can be found there, nearly a perfect match to the two downstairs. One of the downstairs suites is larger than the rest, though all of them seem excellently appointed. The end of the apartment nearest the entrance contains a large rec room with a comfortable-looking sofa, several leather recliners and a high-end entertainment system. The other end of the apartment contains an impressive workout room, complete with free weights, and other assorted fitness equipment. The center of the lower floor contains an open kitchen area. A sprawling, dark-grey counter surrounds a set of expensive-looking burnished appliances. Charcoal grey carpeting covers the floor and huge, vertical blinds hang near the workout area, covering windows that stretch halfway to the ceiling and overlook the river.

Contents:
Lucas
Obvious exits:
Elevator

Once again, the TV is on and the philodox is watching. Or, he was, but Kenneth doesn't seem to find the debate about the presidential debate to be all that interesting. Instead he is caught up in a debate with himself. Comb in hand, he adjusts a small stand up mirrow and brushes part of his hair to one side, checking himself out and how he looks.

The Ahroun has been hanging around Jarred too long. For in the mirror, one second there the next appearing, is the face of Lucas squinting with amusement.

"What the F...?" Kenneth 'backpeddles' himself right into the back of the couch, comb amazingly not dropped from his hand. A scowl swiftly replaces the surprised look on the philodox's face as he glares at the wolf in the mirror. "What the hell are you tryin' to do? Give me bad luck?" With a growled huff, Kenneth slides the comb back into his pocket and jerks his gaze away, contemplating a coverup action of going to get a glass of water from the kitchen.

"I'm a wolf, not a cat." Lucas chuckles as he raises up a brow. "Where have you been, judge? I haven't seen you all full moon."

Kenneth shrugs a shoulder. "I been out," he replies succinctly, clearly not wanting to say. "Besides. When I was talkin' about bad luck, I was talkin' about punchin' your ugly mug in the mirror." The teen rakes his fingers through his hair, destroying what meager style it had achieved before.

Lucas laughs at the halfmoon's words. "I always thought that was the most farfetched of superstitions. You actually believe in that?"

Kenneth shakes his head with a smirk. "I don't believe in the mirror stuff... but breakin' mirrors isn't exactly something I want to do regularly." Headed towards the kitchen, he waves a hand. "You can change the channel if you want. I'm not watchin' that crap." Once he comes back, glass in hand, Kenneth takes a sip and notes, "You an' Jarred seem rather buddy buddy though, last I noted."

Lucas eyes the tv rather dismissingly and shrugs. "He is my teacher, afterall. Our Rite of Passage is coming up, I want to make sure I'm ready for it."

Kenneth gains a vague, distant look to his gaze as it turns away to the TV screen. "Yeah. That." Coldly terse on the subject, he makes his way back to the couch and sits. "You came back kinna sore that one day. Where'd you two go anyway?"

"To deal with my beast." Lucas replies as he takes a seat on the couch. "Practice brawling, making sure I could even go on this crazy quest."

Kenneth sips at the water in his glass. "You're really takin' it seriously aren't you." A fleeting glance to his long healed arm suggests the halfmoon still remembers. "And did anything come of it?"

"Either I control it or the sept comes down on my head if I slip up." Lucas says in a rather casual tone. "The beast hasn't come raving at my door, but it's still there."

Kenneth sets his black gaze upon the ahroun. Staring at him, the halfmoon seems like he's thinking about something, but at the same time just looking through a window. "Hm." Finally he turns back to the television. "Yeah, I thought you seemed... mellow. Usually you'd be blastin' whine-rock in your room 'round now."

Lucas smirks slowly, "Normally I'm still sleeping. Happens when you stay up all night instead of keeping your Elder away with said whine-rock."

"What'd he do anyway?" Curiosity, or the vaguest hint of it, creeps into the halfmoon's question. Typical of Kenneth whenever he talks about something that seems to interest him. "Bet it wasn't anything like contemplatin' your navel, for sure."

"Nono." Lucas replies with a grin, "We beat each other over the head, trial and error to see if I could control the beast enough to avoid Thralling."

Kenneth checks out the other channels on TV, perhaps stalling for a moment to think over the ahroun's reply. "So... who won?"

Lucas quirks up an eyebrow, "He did, of course. He is Fostern. I could bash him over the head as much as I want but he could take my throat anytime he wanted without a reason."

"But you're the ahroun," Kenneth notes. "Eventually you'll be able to take 'im I bet." The water suddenly gets drained down to a drop. "Maybe I should take my chances an' try."

Lucas smirks, "Can try. We were only fighting with fists and heads. You saw what he did with tooth and claw."

Kenneth sets the water glass on the table. "Aa. He owned Cutter that one time... still haven't forgotten about that." The philodox is contemplative, but he squeezes his hand into a fist. "We'll beat up the both of 'em. I don't plan on bein' someone's cub forever."

Lucas snorts. "We wouln't be. Soon enough we'll be Cliath. I'd say learn from 'em while we can, while they're willing to teach us."

Kenneth glances over his shoulder. "I guess. Doesn't it seem like something's missing still? Maybe it only comes with the Rite of Passage, but aside from learning how to kick some monster ass without losin' it, what /have/ we learned?"

"Fencing to make us faster and strike better, chess for cunning and strategy," Lucas says. "Maybe I had more to learn, being a lost cub."

Kenneth doesn't seem too impressed, even though he's received the same training. "Nothin' that couldn't be learned on your own eventually." Lies, perhaps. But the philodox sours at the thought. "Maybe I had more to lose."

Lucas raises up an eyebrow, "Lose? Like what?"

Kenneth, bridging his hands together, leans forward in a hunch. "Like I'd tell you."

Lucas smirks ever so slowly and looks back at the halfmoon. "You asked me to go on some crusade about your family, then refuse to tell me anything."

Kenneth jerks his head up off his hands. "Well maybe I changed my mind!" he suddenly snaps out, standing up with hasty movement. "Maybe I really don't give a damn and was just testing to see where I could get you to go."

Lucas kicks his legs up on the table and snorts. "...don't tell me you're pregnant too now? You certainly sound like you are." The Ahroun turns an eye closely on him, squinting.

Without so much warning as a short shift in his weight, Kenneth spins around, launching a left fist at the ahroun. His eyes carry a glare of death, while his lips curl up in a snarl of rage.

With a jerk of movement, Lucas feels the fist whiz past his nose as he shoots out a hand to sieze the flung appendage and tries to actually get up off the couch at the same time. This is going to be bad for the furniture.

Kenneth damns the furniture. In fact, the furniture is far from his mind at this point, as with a yell of incoherent anger, he flings his right fist out at the ahroun as well, aiming to smash the ahroun's face in.

Wham! There's a shout from the Ahroun who's face is rightly smarting as he launches himself up from the couch and sends his own, larger fist for the halfmoon's nose.

Kenneth follows through with the punch, but it keeps him in close quarters with the ahroun. The large fist of the warrior is only narrowly avoided, clipping the halfmoon's shoulder as he side steps. "I'll kick your fuckin' ass!" he snarls again, eyes ablaze in evergrowing rage and adrenaline kicking in.

"Good luck... it's as hard as my head." The Ahroun growls back as he swells into the near-man form, and with an explosion of rage's speed bends down and aims a broad fist straight for the Philo's diaphram to blow the wind from him.

That puts the angry philodox out swift as whitewater. It's enough to also send him crashing down upon the coffee table with a resounding CRACK of glass as he ends up rolling off and sprawling on the floor. And while he would shout with rage, the wind knocked out of him thoroughly occupies the now muddled, pain-ridden brain of his. Only a second following, he coughs and gasps for air, curling up reflexively.

The Ahroun has no compassion, even for a fallen opponent. He stalks forward and moves to put the halfmoon on his back, with one knee to his chest and his hand to his throat. "...yield." He growls out in his deep, gravel voice.

Kenneth gurks with pain as he is forcibly gripped. Both hands clasp at the ahroun's wrist, the halfmoon trying to swallow and breath despite the pain in his chest. Maybe a rib or two are broken. But, he shows no signs of yielding. At least, not in his mind. Another glare is shot up at the fullmoon as his hands tighten against Lucas' wrist.

Lucas presses his knee harder into the other's chest and bares his teeth. His free hand is raised, coiling into a fist that looks aimed right for the head. He snarls between faintly pointed teeth, the Rage burning in his eyes. "Last chance, Kenneth. Yield or I will make you."

Kenneth bares his flat, human teeth back at the ahroun. Refusing to give up, he grips the ahroun's wrist and in a fresh surge of Rage, suddenly jerks to a side and pulls, shifting into the form of the nearman as well. It seems like he has no intention of yielding - not tonight.

Lucas roars out with a wordless fury as he's jerked to one side, and the readied fist is sent careening for the halfmoon's face with the force of his anger. Once, twice, like the blow of a hammer.

Kenneth's head turns to the side with the force of the first blow and a spray of spit and droplets of blood. The second connects easily but not as well. The halfmoon must be just as hardheaded as the ahroun is, as he echoes the ahroun's roar with his own, only his issues forth even more gutterally with the grip on his throat. Jerking to the side again, his strength renewed with Rage, he aims to send the ahroun to the ground with him.

Alright, enough's enough, thinks Lucas to himself as they both end up tussling on the ground. Another explosion of motion, and the glabro swells into something much more massive and pissed off. With a furious roar, the great black beast moves to sink his teeth into the halfmoon's shoulder where joint and neck meet.

Kenneth cries out with the automatic pain that comes from being chomped on. It sends another burst of rage through his system though, and soon the halfmoon has matched form for form, leaving his clothing in mere tatters over his black furred body. Disabled though he is, the philodox has a hand free, and this he uses to drag deep furrows down the warrior moon's shoulder.

It only makes the very peeved, but still in control, Ahroun all the more pissed. Like a crocodile who's got ahold of his prey, he chomps down harder, and moves to jerk his head sharply from side to side with a savage brutality.

A mixture of a howl and a whine rips out of the halfmoon, sending him to the very edge of frenzy. What angry control he had before teeters with the blinding white of pain and red of rage, with only the stubborn willpower of the halfmoon keeping him from losing it. At this point, it's only his few scratches and slashes at the ahroun's side that lets the fullmoon know he's still fighting.

An angry snarl is squeezed out between his teeth and around flesh and fur as the ahroun's blood soaks his fur. Still he shakes the halfmoon without mercy like he were a ragdoll, a massive fist moving to rain down blow after blow on the other Lord's body.

Kenneth is left at the mercy or lack thereof, pinned and overpowered as he is. The blow after blow sounds with crackings of bone and sick twistings of muscle as the halfmoon tries to escape, but eventually he ceases moving. His grip on the fur of the ahroun loosens, and he lies there taking the punishment that the ahroun has to give.

No-Fear sends one more fist into the halfmoon before he wrenches his jaws free and stands, panting and growling down at his tribemate. ~I told you to yield.~ Certainly he wouldn't have killed him, had the halfmoon not. Or would he?

The ahroun is answered with a coughed, wordless growl from the golden-eyed crinos. His thoroughly mauled neck and shoulder remain bleeding profusely, but more importantly, the cracked bones and internal bleeding is knitting itself back together. He doesn't shift out of the warform, but with a bare, painful loll of his head to one side, the philodox exposes his neck.

No-Fear stands up straight and gives the halfmoon one final growl before he stomps away towards the steps, dripping blood as he goes. Jarred's gonna be pissed.

Kenneth doesn't move from where he lies, soaking in his own blood. After a minute or so of lying there, he eventually does sit up and force himself into a teeth-gritting shift to his nearman form. Covered with just red, the halfmoon sits there, simmering in a renewed broody sulk punctured by the occassional wince.

No-Fear melts down into the dire wolf form and stalks for his room, throwing his bulk into the door something hard and it slams shut with a sound that echoes through the old warehouse.

Kenneth clenches a bloody, fur speckled fist and slams it into the floor, no matter the pain. Once he manages to get up, he stalks to the kitchen and picks up the water glass that had fallen from the table, the glass surprisingly the one item still in tact. The kitchen sink runs with the sound of water as he fills up the glass and drinks down what there is. Eventually, the sound of him dragging something heavy can be heard through the door. Probably the couch.

There's no whine-rock, at least, but that might be better than the silence that comes from the Ahroun's room. Lucas and silence never go well.

Nevertheless, the sounds of movement outside of the the ahroun's room continues. And eventually the sound of more running water, this time the shower, can be heard running. Silence and the ahroun are ignored... for now.

Really, there was no problem at all. Alright, so the coffee table is smashed and there's the periodic pool and trail of blood, but really, nothing duct tape can't fix. Lucas is still holed up in his room, and not making a noise.

And the shower can be heard running, along with a nice trail going up the stairs of splotches of blood. The halfmoon cub must be up there then. Or somewhere.

There's the lowest of grumbles from a lupine throat from behind the door and the snuff of a big set of lungs, but the owner keeps behind his door.

And the shower continues running. Perhaps 15 whole minutes, the sound of the water doesn't cease. When it does, the heavy thud of footsteps continues from upstairs, stopping and restarting on occassion as it sounds like the halfmoon is going about his normal activities. The door of the bathroom opens and shuts again. And with naught but a black beach towel wrapped around his enlarged waist, another wrapped tightly against his left shoulder, and a couple of smaller towels being gripped in his large right hand, the glabro'ed cub makes his way back down the stairs slowly.

Again, there is a low growling sound from behind the door, but it stays closed.

Kenneth plods his way towards the largest pool of blood left on the floor, and drops a towel on it. The growl from the ahroun's room causes him to tip his head, but with a wince of pain that shoots up and down his body. The cub's own lips lift back with a silent snarl as he steps upon the towel, willing it to soak up the blood.

The elevator doors open with an audible ding and Jarred steps out into the living area. At first he doesn't seem to notice the cub's presence, but after a moment he turns to face Kenneth. His eyes follow the cub's movements down to the floor where he catches site of the pool of blood. He grimaces. "Good evening, Kenneth. Anything interesting going on this evening?"

There's the sound of claws dragging against the door upstairs, rattling the handle. There's the more furious scrabbling, the frustrated smacking of a shoulder against the door, then after a minute or two the more sensible sound of a hand turning the knob. Lucas thuds his way out, the glabro Ahroun leering down over the rail. He has a pair of pants on, but tht rest of him is bare. It looks like he got into a fight with a whip, but the more clever eye could recognize them as the mark of claws.

On the other hand, Kenneth is completely worse for wear. The towel wrapped against his shoulder has slowed the bleeding, but a thin trail has mixed with the small droplets of residual water on his body and dripping hair. "Lots," he answers the fostern, considerably subdued though flat in tone. Pushing the towel along, all it seems to do is swirl the blood pool about instead of soaking it up. His right fist tenses again around the spare towel he's brought with him.

Jarred looks up at the emerging Ahroun, then back at the Philodox. His grimace deepens. "Explanation." It's clearly not a request.

Lucas makes his way slowly down the stairs, his own injuries still slowly oozing blood. "He couldn't take a joke." The Ahroun says as he reaches the ground floor.

Kenneth stops his bloodswirling, keeping his eyes on the floor rather than matching the elder. "We had a disagreement," replies the philodox, "that was resolved in ways unpleasant." One could easily guess who really won the bout - not that Kenneth will admit it.

Jarred waits for an elaboration from one of the two. As he does, he walks toward them both slowly, taking in the wreckage of Shadow's End. His eyes roam over every detail and every out-of-place, bloodstained mark before returning to weigh upon the two cubs.

Lucas keeps a distance between himself and Kenneth, eyeballing him from across the way. "I asked a simple question and you got smart. I wasn't about to sit there and let you use me as a punching bag just because your panties got all in a twist."

Kenneth tenses with the words of the ahroun, but it couples with his mauled neck and shoulder. "I can't help it if you insisted on getting your face smashed in," he snarls back following it up with a foreign curse. He tosses the spare towel down to the ground and steps on it, grinding the fabric against the floor.

Jarred's lip curls in disgust. "You're nothing but a pare of spoiled, rotten brats. Bickering, fighting, competing, turning on each other like rabid dogs every time I leave you together. Have you no notion that you're supposed to go on your Rite of Passage in a couple of weeks? If you can't even manage to dwell together at Shadow's End, then you are most certainly not ready for the tests before you."

The Ahroun's posture tightens up and champs back on his words, turning his eyes away from the both of them and chided into silence.

Kenneth stiffens as well, with the tips of his hair lifting slightly like hackles. He too turns his eyes down, glaring at the towel beneath him.

Jarred turns away, unable (or so it would seem) to bear the site of the misbehaving mongrels another second. He heads for the kitchen. "Don't bother cleaning this up. I'll get someone to do it. Someone used to discretion. I've used him before. You'll never get the blood out of the carpets. I'll clean up after you. Since you're too infantile to behave properly, I'll treat you that way.

Lucas bristles faintly but continues standing there silently like a soldier either waiting to be dismissed or yelled at further.

Kenneth, though, doesn't stand still. He steps back from the towels on the floor, turning and making his way up the stairs rather quickly, stiffly and staunchly ignoring the pain of his injuries.

Jarred turns at the sounds of the retreating Philodox. "And just where are you going, young man?"

Lucas turns to glance towards Kenneth, but predictably, without a sound to be said.

Kenneth pauses halfway up the steps. "I'm gettin' out of your hair," he replies gruffly, his low tone as steady as he can keep it without letting the pain influence his tone too much. "I'm a burden to you. I fucked up your carpets, your couch... your nice coffee table." He pauses for a second. "And, I don't like the idea of you payin' for what I did. So I'm goin' out an' gettin' what I need to pay for it."

Jarred growls, and the sound is quite inhuman. "I don't recall asking your opinion on whether or not I should pay for this damage. And I don't give a damn what you like or don't like at this point. You're not leaving Shadow's End until you prove you can control your tempers. Either of you." His voice lowers to a hiss. "Is that understood..."

Lucas nods his head slowly. "Yes, Jarred-Rhya." The Ahroun says and nothing more.

Kenneth tightens his already balled fist. For a long minute he doesn't reply, until he finally answers with an utterance, "Ryoukai." 'Understood.' He doesn't continue up the stairs just yet.

Jarred smiles with his back turned to both of the cubs so they cannot see. "Now get out of my sight, both of you."

Lucas turns away and goes for the stairs, aiming to trudge up them if the halfmoon is in the way or not.

The halfmoon has no intention of letting Lucas beat him up the stairs at least. Once dismissed, he continues up just as quickly as before, undoing the towel that had been soaking up the blood oozing through the exposed flesh of his neck and shoulder. Once he's in his room, the door is shut with little more than a click of the latch.