11/12/2004

11:35 PM
Logfile from GarouMUSH.

Currently the moon is in the waxing No Moon phase (4% full).

Bawn: Central Forest(#2876RA)
The forest is dark and quiet. No, not quiet. Listening. The ancient firs rear up all around, branches interwoven in a dense roof of dark green. Fallen needles lie in a thick carpet on the ground, heaped up around the drifts of undergrowth clinging to the scarce patches of light reaching the forest floor. Every sound seems muffled, and the sharp scent of pine hangs in the air like the clouds of midges that swarm ceaselessly beneath the branches. Even the many deer who roam here seem to step more quietly than usual, and the songbirds seldom sing.
The forest spreads out around you in all directions.
Contents:
White Bear
Bloods-Bane
Thunder's-Forge
Obvious exits:
Burial Mounds Story Tree Caern of the Hidden Walk Western Bawn Southern Bawn Northern Bawn Eastern Bawn

The Shadow Lord, sprawled on the ground, launches into a brief round of obscenities in as much of the high tongue as can be done. He does manage to finally curl himself enough to prop his crinos bulk up on his two forelimbs and looks over to the Fenrir, all the while feeling the blood puddle in the hole where his thigh muscles were. Seems they overdid things a tad.

Dillen is on the ground, bleeding and his guts laying out on the ground from where he was cut from gut to groin. Thunder is on the ground, all the muscles in his thigh ripped off down to the bone.

Emerging from the shadow of the woods with a tennis racquet bag over his shoulder, Kenneth squints in the darkness at the hulking, bleeding crinos and subsequent unconscious Dillen. "Thought I'd smelled blood..."

Thunder's-Forge flattens his ears back on his skull and passes a rather unamused look to the halfmoon. ~There a healer around?~ He asks as he shrinks himself down into the dire wolf and pulls himself up alongside the Get, sticking his nose against him to check and make sure he's still alive.

The shadow lord is, naturally, in a world of pain, dragging raw exposed nerve ends across the dirt.

"Fuck if I know," Kenneth replies, leaning forward to have a look. "I got a few bandage rolls but that ain't gonna help him much. What the hell was all this for? No, wait, don't tell me," he says, unshouldering the bag.

The Ahroun's hackles are stuck out on end, both because he's about ready to chew his own leg off and he'd rather not see the Fenrir die. ~Go!~ He snarls towards Kenneth. ~Find one! Someone has to be around.~

Kenneth is surprisingly calm as he extracts a few rolls of gauze and sets it down. "Even at this time of night, doubt anyone would, but I'll try anyway." He nods once to the ahroun and then jogs off, leaving his bag behind.

Thunder's-Forge has since laid himself out on his uninjured side, panting heavily through the pain of air against tattered nerves and exposed bone, every little movement sending a fresh wave of pain through his currently crippled leg. Still, he keeps lifting his head continually to keep checking on Dillen, to make sure he's still alive. He hasn't tried to mend the Galliard, knowing nothing of anatomy and not about to do more damage in the process of trying to help. Besides, it'd take him all night to just move that much.

Soon, within earshot of the vicinity, the sound of Kenneth's low toned howl can be heard rising up from the trees. ~Listen up! We are in need of a healer! Come quick!~

Perhaps faintly heard, coming from much further beyond, comes a howl of positive reply. ~I'm coming.~

Thunder's-Forge twists an ear to listens for the howls and relief floods him, until he moves too much, then he's going stiff and shaking again with pain. He forces himself to remain still to limit his own blood loss and stays so until he hears the approach of footsteps. Then his head is jerked back up from the ground, eyes intent on the direction.

The Healer arrives. Panting and heaving from the run, Finds-The-Path surveys the scene. ~What happened?!~ he demands of anyone that will answer, even as he moves in to place his padded palms upon the Get, who appears to be worst off.

Kenneth only arrives a half minute or so later, having at some point returned in the homid form despite its handicap of not seeing too well in the dark. "Did a real number didn't they," he notes neutrally, leaning against a tree now that there's someone who can fix up the supernaturally aggravated wounds.

The hispo-formed Thunder's Forge looks between Pathfinder and Blood's Bane, his ears flat. ~Challenge for Alphaship. Heal him. Please.~ His explination is quick and forced not to sound bluntly demanding, but, was that a please? From a Lord? Wow.

Slowly, the Get's eyes open. "Someone get the number on that truck?" He says weekly. He tries to move but decides on the better part of it all to stay put. "Lucas? Dude. You okay?" He tries to move his head to see the other.

Once Gaia's powers have done as much on Dillen as they will do, Pathfinder moves to the Shadow Lord to repeat the Mother's Healing Gift upon him.

"He'll live," Kenneth answers as well, pushing off the tree when Dillen comes to. The darkness hides the glittering amusement in his eyes, as well as the interest he has in the glowing gift of the theurge. "Question now is how you two're going to repay this guy here for saving you from leaking blood and glory out all over the earth."

For once, there's an honest look on Thunder's face beyond the typical one of anger. Relief, as he lays his head back on the ground. He's laid out beside the Get, his thigh, or the crater in his leg where it was, still bleeds and has by now formed a wide puddle under him. He watchs out of the corner of his eye Pathfinder's work, the blood stopping and the skin and muscle going from ragged to smooth, thin fillaments connecting back together to cover the exposed bone, but that is all. The rest will take time. Kenneth is given a sharp stare at answering for him. He may be tired and beaten, but his mood is still far from cheerful.

Dillen gives a choking laugh. "WIll find a way. Thanks, man." He says in Karl's direction. "I owe you one." He cracks a smile. "And the earth needs more blood and glory." As he moves around a bit. "Lucas, lemme hear you, man. Speak to me." For some reason, the Get has a need to hear the other's voice.

Finds-The-Path now rises, stepping back to survey the scene once again, studying the injured with concern.

Kenneth looks right back at the ahroun, meeting him eye to eye for just a moment before turning to look at Pathfinder and nodding once. "/We/ owe you one," he says with little flourish.

Thunder's-Forge bares his teeth and growls in frustration as he shifts himself, realizing his leg is still next to useless at least until many hours have passed and his own, natural durability kicks in. ~I'm /fine/, I'm fine.~ He insists and twists his front half so that much of him lies normally and he flops his head across his paws with a dull thump.

"Good." As Dillen lays there. He then proceeds to shift into glabro to heal better. "Really good." he chuckles some, "So, I guess we are camping out for a while."

Finds-The-Path folds his arms. ~I'm guessing this wasn't /supposed/ to be part of the Challenge?~

Kenneth shrugs once, looking down at the work done. "Christ. If it wasn't a new moon out, I wonder if I'd have a pack afterwards at all," he mutters, a last jab. "They're Garou. Guess this is to be expected," he replies to Pathfinder with another shrug.

Thunder's-Forge remarks to Dillen that he expects so and then replies gruffly to Pathfinder with his head still on his paws. ~It was a Challenge by combat until one of us could fight no longer, but not to death.~

"Which pretty much got screwed by the fact that we took each other out at the same time." Dillen shakes his head and turns it too look at Thunder's-Forge. "Thanks for not killing me." He gives the other a wink.

~I see,~ Pathfinder rumbles. ~Are you okay to move to the farmhouse, or are you both okay out here for the night?~

Kenneth turns his eyes back onto Dillen and arches a brow. "I believe that when I found you two, it was Lucas who was up on his feet and you unconscious." The statement is said flatly, but not with malice. Turning back to view the patches of night sky, he takes in a breath of the night air, nose wrinkling at the smell of blood.

Thunder's-Forge keeps his ears slicked back and remarks with as much dignity as he can muster, ~I will stay here, rest, and heal ...and I was not taken out. I was on the ground but still capable of fighting. Just a flesh wound.~ And deep tissue, but that's a minor detail, really, and that was either an attempt at humor or Lucas grumping. Probably the later.

Dillen looks to the others. "Gonna just stay out here. No use moving me." He looks back to Thunder, "Yeah. Well, we will talk about that. All of us." As he looks back at Kenneth. "I think we all need to just sit down and hash all this out."

~Very well, then. If you need me, I'll just be a howl away,~ Pathfinder offers with a wink, and turns on his heels to make his way back further into the woods.

With a touch of sarcasm, Kenneth remarks, "You two hash it out by clawing the crap out of each other. I'll take the winner." As Pathfinder goes on his way, the philodox gains a thoughtful look onto his features, before his hands come up to adjust his jacket collar. "Anyway," he says, bending to pick up the gauze rolls and return them into his bag, "I'll be at the caern."

Thunder's-Forge gets even more sour at mention of sitting and talking. Kenneth's words, however, get a snort from the fullmoon. ~You, Judge, should act like one.~ He says, not so much accusingly, but just pointing out as he stares after his tribe mate.