11/16/2004

06:48 PM
Logfile from GarouMUSH.

It is currently 18:41 Pacific Time on Tue Nov 16 2004.
Currently the moon is in the waxing Crescent Moon phase (30% full).
Currently in Saint Claire, it is a cloudy day. The temperature is 51 degrees Fahrenheit (10 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from the northeast at 6 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 30.16 and steady, and the relative humidity is 79 percent. The dewpoint is 45 degrees Fahrenheit (7 degrees Celsius.)

On the South Rim
A stream winds crookedly out of the dense, surrounding forest. It meanders, making its way blindly and plummets off the sheer wall of the cliff, here where the forest suddenly stops. The valley that cuts the land here is roughly forty meters across, though it varies in places to as narrow as thirty. The view across the crevice is impressive, though the view into the crevice itself is obscured by mists below. The rush of water hitting stone is a constant song, although its counterpart, the waterfall itself, can't easily be viewed from here on the rim. Only a small foothold betrays the trail leading down.
The forest surrounds this spot on all sides away from the crevice. Off to one side, a small, narrow trail leads down into the crevice and the mists.
Contents:
Thunder's-Forge
Obvious exits:
Forest Down the Trail

There's be no way to tell now that just a few days ago the black wolf was crippled, his entire leg rendered lame. Thunder's Forge is healed now. Even his fur has grown back. He sits at the edge of the stream where it drops off the earth, staring down into the fog of the caern.

Sharp wolf ears could hear the unmistakeable sound of footsteps coming up from the trail and steady breath of Kenneth jogging his way up from the valley. Dressed in shorts and a darkly colored pullover, he pulls up to a halt as he comes upon his tribemate. "That you, Lucas?" Human eyes squint in the dark.

Thunder's-Forge twitches his ears at the sound and then the voice, glancing over his shoulder towards the halfmoon. It is him and he's been wondering where you went to.

Kenneth doesn't answer directly yet, instead bending down to stretch out his tired legs. Off to the right, then to the left, the forward, and stretch up and out towards the sky... After awhile, he replies, "Just training myself. Getting used to the area again. It's been awhile since... since we were cubs runnin' around." The halfmoon puffs out a hot breath of air into the night and continues to stretch with some cool down motions. "Why?"

Thunder's-Forge snorts softly as he watches his tribemate, ears panned forward. We have been talking about the pack. He had though you would have wanted to hear.

Kenneth is bent forward for a moment, hands stretched down far enough that he's obviously flexible. The halfmoon cranes his head up, eyes meeting the ahroun's. "And?"

Thunder's-Forge puffs out the fur around his neck and then settles it all back down again. He is Alpha. Bloods-Bane contested his victory, but he convinced him otherwise. Once we all decide on a totem, we will go and find it.

Kenneth straightens back up slowly, his eyes suddenly not leaving the ahroun's figure. "Alpha when it comes to a scrap maybe," he notes pointedly. "But depending on the pack's purpose, maybe you're not the best one for leader of the pack."

Thunder's-Forge wrinkles his nose slowly. We will be a pack of war. The best warrior must lead, by strength and cunning. He has proved himself in both.

"War? Just what do you want to do with us," Kenneth rounds, arms crossing over his chest. "Toss us straight into the spiral and fight our way out like Dillen's tribe? Talk our way out like we had done with that fuckin' vampire? I don't think so."

Thunder's-Forge stands himself up off the ground and fixes his blue eyes on the halfmoon, rolling himself up into the hispo. ~What I seek is to clean the Wyrm from the streets of the city, near the factories and broken down buildings that once thrived. The streets reek of it.~

~Be realistic,~ Kenneth growls back, himself sneaking up in form to the nearman and glaring down. ~Me, you, Dillen. We're /three/ Garou. You've seen what the Umbra is like. To go it alone is suicide, not to mention not our territory.~

Thunder's-Forge lifts his hackles slowly. ~No other Garou challenges the Wyrm there, they just let it fester. There is pleanty to clean on the streets of the Realm alone and some one needs to try.~

Kenneth frowns. ~They don't challenge it because it's foolish to do it outright. What do you plan on doing then, that's different from what an entire sept of Garou couldn't do? I never said we /shouldn't/ try and reclaim it. Simply that I want to know /how/ you plan on doing it with just us three.~

Thunder's-Forge keeps those keen blue eyes fixed on the other Lord. ~One step at a time. I don't intend to attack the Wyrm face on, but cut the legs from under it. Strike the smallest first. The men who spread the corruption to others. Then to those that control the men and so on.~

~You're going to stir the hornet's nest by picking off the scouts?~ Kenneth queries, a brow arching in doubt. ~You /know/ how many legs a millipede has right?~

Thunder's-Forge licks his jaws as he rumbles in his throat. ~I can count. I am not saying we fight every battle tooth and claw. Many will have to be fought with wits, but they are battles none the less.~

Kenneth stares down at the ahroun for awhile longer, silence on his part inevitably filling in for the rest of his outward feelings on the matter. Then with eventually a shrug and a turn, Kenneth shifts back down to his birthform, tugging at various sections of his pullover so it has returned to its normal state. "Do as you like," he says, but not without a look over his shoulder. "But if you mess up as alpha, you'll regret it."

Thunder's-Forge curls his lips back in a brief warning before levelling out his posture. ~Would you have honestly thought a Fenrir would bow to anything but force?~

"Of course not. You kicked his ass," Kenneth states flatly, as if This Should Be So. "But I'll be damned if he decides he's Beta without going through me first." A glitter in his eyes shows Kenneth's seriousness. "I leave it to you to make the battle strategies, Lucas, but I also don't want you to end up frothing like the rage whore you are every time we gotta spill blood." Nevermind that it was the philodox who couldn't really handle himself on the Rite.

Thunder's-Forge licks his jaws and looks vaguely satisfied, like he was waiting for the other Lord to say that. ~I never expected you to roll over to him, I just never told him that. Leave my Rage to me.~

Kenneth scratches a fingernail along the bridge of his nose, a hint of amusement barely visible on his face that is shadowed by the night. "I will," he murmurs with a look back off towards the inviting darkness. "I will. So you found a theurge yet? To talk about spirits and stuff."

Thunder's-Forge scrunches up his expressions and utters a faint whine. ~No. But, I did find a Ragabash, though she has yet to say yes or no. A Bone Gnawer, the other lost cub, now called Snaps-Leashes. Definatly an omega, which is fine by me. Who better to know the streets than a Gnawer? We could use a scout to observe our enemies before the rest of us go in and fight.~

"What about that one that came a week ago? When you and Dillen threw down?" Kenneth rubs his hands together for warmth, but for whatever reason refuses to shift to something with fur just yet. "Bet he'd probably do well for a medic."

Thunder's-Forge furrows his hispo brows. ~The Child of Gaia? No. He is in a pack already, Crescent Wing. I talked to him once since and he told me.~

Kenneth grunts and shrugs a shoulder. "Whatever. Sure there's gotta be more theurges than him who's not stuck in a pack already." The philodox, though, rolls his shoulders back and yawns. "How many do you think we need?"

~Right now, the pickings are slim.~ Says the Ahroun. ~The only Garou not in packs I know of are cubs, Cliath no one else wanted or don't want to pack, and Fostern who'd rather not associate with others.~

Kenneth puts on a face of indifference, blithely gazing towards the woods. "Well if they don't wanna join, they don't wanna join. That's not our problem. Our problem's dealing with what you said. City, Woods. We should probably stake out a territory somewhere, then." Already, he's moved on to other issues, other worries. "The main thing's not to start up a gang war, yeah? Not like we can let Dillen in on the vampire thing though. Fuck, with a rite like his and all."

Thunder's-Forge gives his head a human-like shake. ~No, of course not. We strike when no one is watching and cover our tracks. Bloods-Bane wants us all to live together in the city. That might be a good idea to better keep the pack together.~

Kenneth furrows his brow. "Live together?" he echoes, that dubious sound in his voice creeping back in. "Where?"

~In the city.~ Repeats the Ahroun. ~Where, we haven't discussed. He only mentioned it.~

Kenneth rolls his eyes. "I know in the city. I was askin' which part of it, but anyway... maybe. Maybe it's worth a shot." But the sound of doubt peals heavy in his tone. The halfmoon is clearly one who must have been labeled as 'does not work well with others' in his school years.