1/15/2005

04:11 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:
Jarred
Obvious exits:
Elevator

The Elder is seated at his desk. Shadow's End is very dim, as all of the shades are nearly closed, allowing in only a scant amount of the light streaming from the slate grey sky. The gentle scritches of his quill rustle across faded, expensive-looking parchment. Occasionally, he stops, dips the quill into a well of silky black liquid and continues.

One of the doors in the upstairs hallway opens and closes, signaling an exit of one of the tenants living in the End. Some footsteps later, Kenneth reveals himself at the top of the stairwell and wonders aloud, "Why's it so dark in here?" A scan downstairs tells him why. "Uh, ne'ermind. You want me to leave you alone?"

Jarred smiles, though the younger Lord can't see it. "No. I would enjoy your company. It is something I rarely get these days."

Kenneth rubs a finger on his chin as if in debate to actually go down, and eventually does descend. "Yea, well, been busy y'know. Dealing with Dillen. Pack stuff. That sort of thing." He approaches the Lord elder, but keeps a decent distance. "What're you writing?"

Jarred lifts his head a little. "A poem." A quick look backwards at the Philodox is all the Elder can spare at the moment. At least until things get more interesting. "I'm nearly finished with it."

Kenneth is standing straight when Jarred sneaks a look back. When the galliard goes back to the writing though, Kenneth leans just a bit to the side, as if the shift of weight and perspective might afford him an actual glance at the paper. "Who's it for? The poem, that is."

Jarred hesitates. "I'm not entirely sure. I suppose I'll know who to give it to when the time comes. I have many poems I've completed. Not all of them eventually found owners. This pursuit calms me. The deliberation and care of writing with a quill is theraputic."

"Tupac was a poet," Kenneth quips, but straightens back before he leans in too far and shows the curiosity. "I guess it's the galliard thing to do. Though I'm kinda surprised you don't like... play piano or something."

Jarred shakes his head. "I would have loved to do so. But it takes many years to become proficient at it. It is not often an instrument favored of the Garou. We are warriors. We can carry with us a flute, or a violin, or a guitar. But a Piano has a permanency to it that doesn't lend itself to our way of life." He pauses for a moment. In regret, perhaps? "No, I am a writer and singer. That is my lot as a Galliard."

"Yea, I guess so," Kenneth replies with a hand going up to rub the back of his head of some residual feeling. "M'dad really liked listening to piano stuff. Made me practice all the time, but I'd play horribly on purpose just to piss him off some times." The philodox's voice goes quiet for a scant couple of seconds, the youth distracted with memories. Then he snaps back to the present. "You, uh, you into the whole rites thing?"

Jarred turns at that. "Rites? What sorts of rites are you referring to?"

Kenneth straightens up soon as he knows he's being looked at. "Like, the one you did that lets the clothes shift with our bodies? That one." His hand drops from the back of his head. "Don't really know what else there is."

Jarred nods. "I know the Rite of Passage. You saw it as a task, but it is actually a Mystical Rite. I also know the Gathering for the Departed, which is something of a funerary rite. I know of no others, besides the one you mentioned."

Kenneth takes a couple of steps closer, now that some of the ice is chipped and melted. "How'd you learn 'em?" he inquires with definite sort of interest that turns into a quick backpedal. Don't want to appear /too/ eager. "I mean, y'know, what's so important for 'em?"

Jarred smiles, for he loves to teach despite his general snake-like vitriol. "The Garou are innately magical creatures. We don't tend to think in terms of magic, for so much of what we are is biological. Our gifts are indeed powerful. But more powerful and subtle still are the Rite and Rituals we can perform. If you think an Adren Ahroun is fearsome, you have never known an Adren Theurge. The power they can wield would chill your very blood. The only difficulty with Rites is that they aren't as quick and easy to bring to being as Gifts. Some Rites day hours or even days of preparation. The time and meticulous effort required for them is what lends them their power. Do you see?"

Kenneth nods slowly. "Yeah, Cutter took awhile when he was doing the rite that was supposed to summon pack totems." Even though Jarred smiles, it doesn't reflect on the philodox's features. "So... where'd you learn this sort of thing?"

Jarred muses for a moment. "The best place to lean the fundamentals of Rituals is from a Theurge, or someone else who is adept in them. Rites are not like gifts. They cannot be taught on their own. They require that you possess a prior knowledge. Think of it is as being trained in the arts of magic before you can accomplish advanced spells. Gifts and introductory Rites are fairl easy to learn. Higher level rites require higher levels of knowledge in Rituals."

Kenneth breaks off his gaze from the galliard elder, to gaze at the large loft windows. "So... I should ask a theurge to learn about some of these things then? If I wanted to learn a couple, or somethin' like that." He looks back then. "Or is it just any Garou to another, sort of thing?"

Clears his throat. "It depends on the level of the rites you wish to learn. I would think any garou could teach you a rite they know, provided you have the background knowledge and rank to learn it."

Kenneth narrows an eye at the elder. "So... where do you go to learn the background knowledge? Not like there's a school for the Garou Arts and all. I was thinkin' of askin' someone at the next moot. But maybe I should go look for Cutter-rhya."

Jarred nods. "Cutter would be an excellent place to start. As a Shadow Lord, he would be more disposed to teach you than one of another tribe might. If you like we could go together and speak to him. Perhaps he can teach us both."

"Y'think he's still sore about losing to you when he challenged for Tribe Elder?" Kenneth asks, finally getting close enough that he could make an attempt to glance at the parchment sheet.

Jarred shakes his head. "If he is a Garou of honor, and I believe him to be, he will accept what happened as the natural law. No Shadow Lord likes to lose. I wouldn't enjoy it if I'd been the unsuccessful one that night. But I would like to think I would have come around eventually. This is Cutter's forte. I think he'll be delighted to teach you, even if he doesn't wish to teach me."

Kenneth shrugs once. "Guess that's what I should do then. After we go deal with the gangs and stuff, then that's what I'll try and concentrate on." He sighs out, in a resolute sort of way. "Figure if I'm not gonna get a chance to go back to school then at least I should learn /something/."

Jarred looks at the Philodox. "And why would you be unable to educate yourself?"

Kenneth's eye twitches, as if he deliberately quashes the flare of indignation that rises in his chest. "It's not that," he says with a forced evenness. "It's more like... the experience. The knowing that you can't ever go back and just be 'normal', and hang out with Friends instead of Packmates. But you're probably going to get on my case about being Garou and not human."

Jarred just smiles at that. "And you are probably mistaken. You are *not* completely human, to be sure, but that doesn't mean I don't understand the allure of being 'normal' again. I've wished for it myself on occasion. In every man's life, he evaluates those things he considers positive and compares them to the downfalls he's experienced. True, you may never be a feckless college student swilling beer in some dormitory with the football team cheerleaders. But the point of education is to learn and better yourself. That can be done by anyone at any time. You are still very young. For that matter, *I* am still very young. I see no reason why you cannot pursue a higher degree at some point."

Kenneth eyes the galliard again, when he sympathizes - or at least recognizes. "Yeah. I mean, we're ten foot tall killing machines sure, but that doesn't mean we have to be brainless in the academics. And you never really know if something learned will come up later. Guess I'm just saying, when it comes down to it, I'd still rather have a piano." He smirks vaguely, and brushes off an invisible piece of lint from his pants.

Jarred blinks. "You'd like a piano?"

Kenneth has to laugh at that. And for once, a genuine smile comes to the philodox's expression. "Nah, nah. I meant the piano as a symbol. Our lives are hectic and full of moving around and stuff, but in the end it'd be nice to have a sense of stability. A rock in the crashing ocean, that sort of thing."

Jarred sighs softly. Philodix. Always so bloody philosophical. "I think I understand. Well. As you said, let's concentrate on removing this gang activity and then we can see to your education, young Kenneth."

Kenneth finally pushes down that amusement of his, funneling it into a chuckle. "Yea, well, no rush. But hey if you're offering to buy me a piano, I think I could play a couple songs still." Again, it's meant as a joke. Or maybe as a jab. Hard to tell, with the philodox's grin.

Jarred grimaces, but quirks the faintest of smiles at the Philo's jovial sparring. "You seem to be in a better mood than you have lately. To what do we owe the pleasure?"

Kenneth's smirky-smile straightens a touch, tempered with a quirked brow. "What do you mean?"

Jarred inclines his head a little. "Just what I asked. I know things haven't been easy for you, but you seem to be out of your shell a bit more today than you usually are. It is refreshing. I just wondered what had changed..."

Kenneth's brow slowly returns to a more even level. "Oh. Nn," he shrugs slightly, "I don't know." He makes a gesture upstairs. "I took a couple of pills to get rid of a headache I had earlier, so I guess I'm good."

The elevator door opens and Dillen steps inside. "S'up?" He says quietly to those in the room. "Mind if I come in?" Pointing to the floor, as if he is going to stand on that one spot.

Jarred shrugs. "As you wish. By the way. Have you seen Lucas? And have you spoken to him recently about his loss of control? It has been concerning him greatly of late."

Turning to look at the elevator doors when the sound of the lift rumbles, Kenneth hesitates before answering the Lord elder. "He was alright yesterday," he reports, "But I haven't heard much about it. Heard how he's really sick of eatin' carrot sticks, though." Dillen gets a short chin tilt of greeting.

[Fade t'black, alas. Went out!]