1/18/2005

09:04 PM
Logfile from GarouMUSH.

Among the Steam Vents
The ground here is rocky and barren. Small, narrow cracks network the area, and heated steam trickle out of many of them. The slightly steam fills the air in this spot, warming those nearby and leaving a thin sheen of dampness--and just a hint of minerals and sulfer--on everything nearby. Because of this, the rocky ground is slick and treacherous. Two or three times a day, a blast of hot steam briefly erupts from one of the cracks, increasing the heat and smell in the area.
The forest surrounding the caern's border is far less dense than the rest of the nearby forest. Scattered, centuries-old oaks stand majesticly over their fallen, decaying, moss-covered commrades. This peculiarity seems to surround only the area just outside the caern.
Through the mists, you can see the caern circling towards the walls of the crevice, north towards the rocky slab; east, you can hear the waterfall; the caern's center lies to the northeast. The valley continues towards the southwest.
Contents:
Stacey
Obvious exits:
WaterFall Down the Valley Center Rocky Slab

It is a bit warmer this evening, and so Stacey was out on one of her nightly runs, glad to be out despite the light rain. The young cub's run eventually led her to the Caern, where she is now pacing in circles, her expression distant, as though deep in thought.

In the dark, it's hard to spot the Shadow Lord philodox. It isn't his clothing this time, but his fur that lends its aid in concealing his form amongst the steam and fog that rises from the vents. Hearing Stacey's approach long before she sees him, the black furred wolf slinks his way down from atop a couple of rocks he'd unwittingly camoflaged himself against. Ears cocked forward, tail lifted to a definitive upward slant of confidence, Edge whuffs lowly to let Stacey know she's being watched.

Stacey jumps slightly at the whuff and then turns in the direction of the sound, still having a bit of trouble seeing the wolf. "Startled me there," the cub says, "Thought I was alone. I didn't see anyone around."

[look Stacey]
Stacey has light brown curls that have been pulled back into a high pony-tail by a purple ribbon, although a couple of the smaller strands have come loose and frame her oval-shaped face. The preteen's features are soft and childlike, with a small nose, slightly prominent cheekbones, and large hazel eyes. A fading tan and a few freckles color her otherwise fair complexion. This slender girl is wearing blue jean overalls with a long-sleeved shirt that is decorated with purple flowers, along with white tennis shoes. A leather thong necklace with a pendant of a dove carved of smooth white shell with bits of mother-of-pearl on either side is tied around her neck.

Edge indicates that he knows he wasn't seen. An definite amusement shows itself from that, but he approaches closer and sniffs heavily of the girl's scent before plopping down on his haunches and staring at her almost expectantly.

Stacey nods and gives him a friendly smile. "We haven't met before." The girl adds, once more stating the obvious. "I am Stacey, also known as Chases-the-Shadows, Ahroun cub of the Children of Gaia."

Edge splays an ear at the auspice. Another full moon? The wolf stares quizzically with golden eyes, but then gets back up to his paws and comes a bit closer to the Child. This one is Edge, a first ranked half moon of the Shadow Lords. His tail waves along the tip. You are a new cub? Did not see you in the human-den-where-cubs-stay.

Stacey shakes her head. "I'm not a new cub, but I do tend to bounce a bit from place to place around here, so I might have been out when you visited the farm. I believe I've heard of you, though, Edge-rhya. I've spoken a few times with another Shadow Lord, the one called Lucas."

Edge flips his muzzle skyward, seemingly distracted by something or other before his attention returns to the cub. Forge is my packmate. The philodox hesitates, then adds, Pack alpha, under Fenris. He clearly is somewhat displeased by the notion, but deals with the conflict quickly and with an audible snort. The wolf lays down to try and keep himself under control.

Stacey tilts her head, looking the Shadow Lord over. "I did not know that he was the alpha of your pack." She looks about to ask something, but then hesitates and changes her mind. "What is Fenris like, may I ask?"

Angry, the Philodox replies immediately, flatly, some may say sulky. The Get totem values strength in battle, and not backing down. He lifts his head and looks to the ahroun. One thinks of whether they value cunning in battle as well.

Stacey looks at Edge for a second and then sits down to be more comfortable. "Would it be wrong of me to assume that you are of the more cunning type? Dakota-rhya told me to always remember that the mind and the heart have a place in battle as much as strength."

Edge looks over, lying on his stomach with his head lifted and regarding the ahroun cub. As a half moon, I am not supposed to be the best fighter. In a war pack, the best fighter will be the alpha. He drums his tail twice in thought, and growls out slowly, I will pick my battles.

Signe wanders through the mist with her hands in the pockets of her jacket and her head mostly focused on the ground in front of her boots. so preoccupied is the Get that she doesn't realize she's in the there, and that there are people here, until she's almost on top of the heart of the caern.

Stacey nods to Edge. "It is wise to choose battles, although not always easy." Upon seeing Signe arrive, the cub scurries to her feet. "Hello," she calls to the newcomer.

Signe doesn't see the Get theurge's arrival over by the water, her gaze focused intensely on the two she's stumbled over near the steam vents. "Hey," she greets both of them, hands coming out of her pockets to rest at her sides. She eyes the wolf as if she should know him, but can't place him exactly. The homid she doesn't seem to know at all, and so she asks, "Who are you?"

Edge flips a ear backwards, then looking with a long intake of breath to scent the air. He too pushes up to his paws, tail flagging briefly and staring with gold eyes in the direction of the caern's heart. Signe isn't recognized until she gets a little closer, at which point the Shadow Lord's tail drops. Edge, halfmoon of the Shadow Lords, the lupus formed philodox rumbles slowly.

By the waterfall, Fights-For-Hope appears before the waterfall, staring into its surface to make the transition through the gauntlet. His pushing through is quick, but during it the faintest of feminine laughter can be heard as if from behind a closed door. When Fight's lifts his face, the Theurge's eyes have large black and brown rings like that of a raccoon surrounding them. His mood is dour, to say the least. He shoves his face into the water and shakes it back and forth vigorously while taking on the homid form, enlisting his hand's help in rubbing away the marking.

Stacey smiles at Signe, stuffing her hands into her pockets, self-conscious around so many new faces. "I am Stacey, also called Chases-the-Shadows, Ahroun cub of the Children of Gaia."

Signe relaxes a little at the Shadow Lord's greeting. "Oh yeah. Dillen's packmate, right?" she asks, nodding in addition to Stacey's introduction. She gives her own introduction for the benefit of the Gaian cub. "signe, otherwise called Skadi's Defiant Storm. Jarl of the Get and alpha of Havoc." The splashing of the pool gets Signe's attention and she looks toward James.

Edge doesn't reply to the Get Jarl as quickly, as the scent of Jamethon popping through the Gauntlet reaches his nose first, followed quickly by the sounds following the theurge. Bloods-Bane's packmate, yes, he finally does return. The sudden intrusion of so many Get in the vicinity makes the halfmoon trot off a couple paces. He stops, though, and turns back, eyeing the Gatekeeper from afar.

By the waterfall, Jamethon is grumbling to himself loudly enough for the noise to carry, though unintelligibly, to the group standing by the steam vents. After about five minutes of vigorous rubbing and dipping and shaking and rubbing he lifts his face from the water and looks into it. "Damn it all!" he yells out, slamming a fist down into the water and standing up he immediatly takes on the crinos form, simply standing there and looking out towards the rest of the caern with arms crossed and visage just daring someone to make a comment.

"I'm honored to have met you both, Edge-rhya and Signe-rhya, although just briefly," says Stacey, " I have to be getting back to the Farmhouse. Alicia-rhya said she wanted to speak with me, and I shouldn't keep her waiting too long." With one last nod, the cub starts off towards the farm.

Signe nods to the Gaian, but she is readily distracted by the theurge's antics. Strolling that way, she asks James, "what the hell's going on?"

Edge roughly tips his tail at the departing cub, but the sudden crinos shifting and angry yell of the Get theurge has drawn his attention. Regardless, the Philodox follows the Jarl down to the water's edge, staying a couple of feet back and away from easy leaping range. He peers at the now more visible markings on Jamethon's face, gaze only coming out quizzical, yet wary.

By the Waterfall
The walls of the canyon surrounding the caern reach upwards to 30 feet here, their highest point. At 20 feet up, a small underground spring exits the rock face. The water spills playfully down the rock face, carressing the cliff's face. The chilled flow, upon eentering the placid, shallow, chilled pool of water at the bottom, creates tiny ripples in the puddle's surface. A light, mist rises up from the ground, chilling to the bone.
The forest surrounding the caern's border is far less dense than the rest of the nearby forest. Scattered, centuries-old oaks stand majesticly over their fallen, decaying, moss-covered commrades. This peculiarity seems to surround only the area just outside the caern.
To the west, cool mist kicked up by the falls mingles with warmer steam from geothermal sources; these mists swirl around the caern to the north. The caern's center lies northwest of here. You can pick out what seems to be a hazardous trail over rock and up the wall, to the side of the waterfall.
Contents:
Signe
Fights-For-Hope(#3988PJXYce)
Obvious exits:
Steam Vents Center Windy Spot Up the Trail

Fights-For-Hope looks over at Signe now, before looking straight forward again. ~Nothing. Just some spirits being... playful.~ He seems to be one to think that the play was much more fun for everyone involved except for him.

Signe gets a better looks at James once she's close. At first, the ahroun's eyes simply squint in puzzlement. The theurge's explanation, however, causes her to grunt out a laugh.

Edge attempts to resist the urge to loll his tongue out in a wolven smile, and fails somewhat. The pink rolls out from between his teeth and he huffs twice, a mood somewhat lifted from his ruff. The halfmoon promptly clicks his jaws shut however, and reminds himself of the other two Get's rank. And tribe.

Fights-For-Hope shoots a very quick and very dark look at Edge, slowly looking back up to Signe. ~Yeah, laugh it up. I'm glad I got my business in the city taken care of already. Should wear off soon... I hope.~ The rather large Get of Fenris theurge begins to look perhaps, miserable, continuing. ~I'm ready for the coming moot. The spirits... are extra happy to be around and I'm sure the inner sky opening will be quite a sight.~

Signe's laugh turns sympathetic quickly enough, and she moves toward the lumbering, huge crinos to give him a supportive slap on the back. It winds up more on his backside, though, thanks to his size. "By the way, what's the news about your doings in the city?"

Edge drops his head a level and keeps himself low, legs folding under the look the theurge shoots him with. The halfmoon keeps the question he has to himself, instead listening in on the conversation of what going on with the city.

Fights-For-Hope manages to keep his face angled away from Signe mostly as he speaks to her, but the design of a crinos face doesn't help him much. The muzzle itself has a sizable portion of the eye rings on the side of it. ~The safehouse work goes well enough, now that they are at a point I can be more useful. Framing, heavy moving. We already had a discussion about your pack's issues and Dillen's wonder-fenrir's wanting to do their part.~ He snorts, partly in amusement but there is some honest approval in it. ~I don't know if other plans are being thrown about. Hospital. Sewers. Any of that... you?~ He spares a glance to his tribal elder enough to pass the conversation ball back her way.

Signe shakes her head, scowling faintly. "I've been..distracted," she answers, tone slightly apologetic. "But as the moon grows bigger, I'll be able t add more to the picture, hopefully." There's color in the ahroun's cheeks that wasn't there a few moments ago.

Edge gets back up, to sit in almost rapt attention to the conversation between the Get. Deathsong will do what needs to be done, and bring the fight in the Scab to those that need it, starting with the human-packs-gone-bad, snaps the Philodox quickly. The way he refers to the pack, definitely bears confidence and trust that normally doesn't show in the cold neutrality of the halfmoon.

Fights-For-Hope looks over at Edge, over his head specifically as if searching for the source of the voice that just spoke. Finally he steps around Signe to fully look upon the Shadow Lord and his voice is cold and unforgiving in tone, ~Excuse me. You're obviously packed with Dillen and Lucas. So you're Ken... uh, Edge. Right?~

Signe simply watches for the moment.

Edge stares way up at the crinos, meeting him gaze on gaze for an instant and then looking away with his ears pushing back a touch in submission. The philodox answers the theurge that the Get is correct. He is Edge, halfmoon of the Shadow Lords.

[look Jamethon (Fights-For-Hope, crinos)]
This huge juggernaut of a beast looks to be deadly to say the least. It's over nine-foot, massive, and mostly light gray furred body resembles a gargantuan near-humanoid in the form of an anthropomorphic wolf. Pure black eyes give off rage-filled glances from the heavy jawed face of this beast. Claws coming from the fingers of this thing's hands are long talonesque blades that look prepared to render flesh and muscle from bone. Among various other scars, the gray fur of his powerful chest is disrupted by a massive burn-like scar that still seems angry and red despite not being a fresh wound. From between his ears a large jagged shock of black fur juts down his back to the base of his tail, only disrupted at the small of his back by another scar in the shape of the crescent moon. One nasty set of scars are three large jagged scars, like clawmarks, that travel from above his eyes, over his head, and to the back of his skull. Around his neck is either a tattoo or a collar, its hard to tell especially when the light shifts. It looks like black leather with Fenris glyphs in silver, but shifts as his throat muscles move betraying something supernatural about it.
Carrying:
PandaCharm(#3247dh)

Fights-For-Hope drops to a knee, still towering above the young lupus. ~That is all? Just Edge. Just a Halfmoon of the Shadow Lords?~ His voice is still cold, unemotional yet unyielding... it demands promptness and honesty in reply.

Edge clearly tenses as the theurge examines him, but the question bears an addition to the 'introduction'. Rather than a grunted reply, the Shadow Lord throws back his head and howls out strongly, This one is Dagger's-Edge, first ranked half moon of the Shadow Lords, chosen packmate of Thunder's-Forge and Bloods-Bane under the angry-red eyes of Fenris. Ours is a pack of battle; ours is a pack called Deathsong! Our enemies beware, for when we come it will be their death song howled from our throats! As the wolf's warning fades off into the sky, he brings his gaze back upon the Get theurge, looking much more 'pumped'.

Fights-For-Hope looks for a moment surprised, obviously not in the least expecting such a display. The surprise doesn't quite fade but rather converts to an intense energy that practically shines from the Fostern's recently darkly marked eyes. ~Do you embrace the Great Wolf's thirst for battle?~ His words are edged with violent intent, fists balling up tightly and lowering to his sides.

Edge's jaws open so as he can lick his muzzle. The philodox does not get to howl like that in the city very often, and there is something about the howl that unbuttoned the proverbial collar. He eyes the Get theurge, eyes the fists tensed on the crinos, then rises to his paws. This one runs from no challenge, so long as he runs with Fenris.
Set.

Fights-For-Hope deeply nods his head in understanding, licking his muzzle hungrily as he stands from the kneeling posture to his full height. ~If this is so, then stand and face me, Shadow Fenrir.~

Edge sniffs once, and without further hesitation shifts up to Crinos. In the form of greater Rage, the halfmoon's auspice weighs even heavier, showing like a glow from the golden, piercing nature of his eyes in the warform.

[look Kenneth (Edge, crinos)]
Edge(#3651Pc)
     Swathed in liquid night, this wolven beast's powerful and terrifying warform rises far above to over a man and a half's worth of height, adorned with curving scythes of sharp ebon and pearl for claw and fang. His movement, reminiscent of the silent wings of the fallen Malakim, is graced with violent efficiency. Every movement is made with purpose. With every step, the obsidian fur shifts and shines with the lure of ethereal darkness, drawing eyes in with an almost magnetic aura. The creature's own golden eyes burn like manifested wells of vengeful wrath granted to him from the divine. The fur around them almost glows with a silver brushed mask, marking that he is the swift, deadly executioner of Gaia's will.

Fights-For-Hope towers over the much younger Crinos and his face wears a mask of barly concealed rage and vinegared violence. After a moment of facing down his foe the Fostern... suddenly bursts into laughter, tossing his head back with the force of it. ~Wonderful!~ He roars out in a non-mocking humor. ~You are indeed worthy... at least you have the spirit. Dillen was right when he said he trusted you to stand and fight as a Fenrir would. But,~ He reaches out to clap a hand on Ken's arm, ~We'll see, won't we?~

Edge's hackles stiffen upwards like a bird's crest with the laughter. It is a sound he has come to not entirely enjoy, as often as it is aimed at him. The Shadow Lord doesn't reply to the Fostern's mention of Dillen, but seeing those claws come towards him - even just to get a touch on him - the halfmoon quickly steps into the possible beginning of a hold, his own left clawed hand shooting out to grasp and twist, bringing himself even closer to the fostern with a growl. It clearly shows a background of the martial arts that no doubt the fostern would recognize.

Signe watches the entire display with a hint of amusement in her own dark, homid eyes. Those eyes also reflect the fierce energy called up by both Fights for Hope and Dagger's Edge. IT dulls slightly, briefly, as the ahroun turns thoughtful, but she manages a proud smile nonetheless. "We /will/ see," she notes with a nod of her head.

Fights-For-Hope is quick with his answer to the cliath's motion, allowing the twisting with no resistance or even vocalization. Continuing with the twisting himself he leaps up into a forward flip, landing on his feet at the end with a backhanding roundhouse punch towards Edge's face. His motions seem deceptivly slow to occur, but once unleashed already have such potental behind them that they are like a coiled viper striking.

Edge isn't quite as quick with the bulk and awkwardness of crinos form; lacking that experience of fighting, the sudden flip and strike of the Get catches him nearly off guard. He sees it in time to bend with the strike, but it still hits its mark on the side of his head. The blow sends the half moon nearly falling to the floor, but not without a hard kick to Fights' legs, aimed to sweep them out from under him or tangle them up in his own.

Signe is still in homid. And although she's a Get, she's not quite stupid enough to stand in the middle of two crinos fighting. The dark eyes burn with the eagerness to join, but she decides instead to respect the one on one combat and backs off to a safe distance at the far edge of the pool.

Fights-For-Hope anticipates the coming sweep of the lowered cliath and with a quick vertical leap comes down with feet on both sides of the sweeping leg. The large Get kneels down with a twisting motion to pin the leg under him, and while coming down he lifts a fist high overhead to bring it down straight on Edge's right shoulder.

Edge misses the sweep, has his leg pinned, but turns his eyes up to his opponent to see the giant fist coming in for him. He pushes off as hard as he can from the ground, back twisting and body bending in a trained flexibility to narrowly avoid the fist. In the same blur of motion, his stronger left arm twists back to reach for the Get's neck, hooking around for a hold. That same motion is followed through with a full-weighted heave. An almost jujitsu reminiscent throw, it is accompanied with an enraged roar for 'added' strength.

Signe folds her arms across her chest, jaw tightening as the battle's intensity increases. The ahroun's mostly calm demeanor now radiates with a restlessness.

Fights-For-Hope almost seems to allow the hold of his neck but already has his momentum going backwards when it comes through. Instead of letting the throw take him alone, the Fostern wraps his arms around the Shadow Lord and brings the two down together. Arms circling tightly in a crushing bearhug, forehead coming back to slam into Edge's muzzle even as the Get squeezes with a teeth gritting effort.

Edge struggles with the Get in an effort to try and break free, but there is no escaping the hard headbutt that smacks him dead on the nose. The wet sound of blood and bone getting crushed breaks the silence of the halfmoon again as he howls out the pain that bursts into his head. It fuels the already peaked Rage that is coming from the combat, and the halfmoon returns the favor of headbutt with headbutt.

Signe grits her teeth at the sound of bone crunching. she growls out her approval of the Shadow Lord's response, as well. The ahroun begins to pace in a semi-circle around the two fighters.

Fights-For-Hope lowers his muzzle down in anticipation of the returning strike and while the heads of the two crinos collide with an audible thunk, not much real damage ensues. Meanwhile, the Get has not relented on his bearhug, and bones start to creek with strain under it's considerable force. Fights-For-Hope waits for Signe to get to an appropriate position in her circling around the two, and suddenly throws the fighters into a roll in her direction using his weight for the momentum.

Edge is still unable to break the Fostern Get's hold on him, and with the headbutt jarring his skull the half moon and staving off a frenzy. The unexpected throw and roll puts him off balance, at the mercy of the theurge at first, but in a second of opportunity he wrenches hard to free one arm from the crushing hug of the theurge, and puts what force he can behind the fisted set of claws to punch him as hard and as fast as possible. The Rage riding the halfmoon fuels his near-frenzied, almost desperate attempt to get the theurge off of him.

Signe was no expecting Fights for Hope to purposefully involve her in the playful romp, but the ahroun's sense are apparently razor sharp. Even as she shifts upwards to crinos--a shift that comes more as a burst--she is leaping into the air to avoid becoming a bowling pin. The move is only partially successful, getting the ahroun high enough in the air to avoid the bulk of the collision but catching her near the ankles and causing her to fall into a roll on the ground.

[look Signe (Defiant-Storm, crinos)]
The fur is thick, course, and shaggy. It's dark, too, almost as if her perfect ash grey coat had been doused with soot. The ebony fur covers a massive lupine muzzle, the ruff forming a kind of mane around her neck that filters down the length of her back. The color fades back to an ash-grey around her hands and feet. In shape she's a monster from out of legend. Half wolf, half man, her frame takes the best of both creatures. She stands over nine feet in height with powerful, massive muscles, deadly claws, and a jaw spiked with jagged, sharp teeth. The fangs of those teeth are a good five inches in length. Most compelling in all this fury are two golden amber eyes.

As serious as Edge is, it seems that this is just that to Fights, a playful romp. A hearty crinos laugh hefts its way from his throat as he lets go and continues tumbling away from the Cliath a sight distance, getting a glancing blow to the shoulder from Edge's strike in return. ~Had enough?~ Demands Fights loudly to the Cliath as he gets to one knee and turns to face him once more in a deft motion. If it is not clear already, with this fluid motion it becomes so that James has had years of extensive training in the a very fluidic martial art.

Edge, after all those times of having been beaten on by those stronger than he, knows at least that to remain on the floor is to get kicked. He rolls as soon as he is let go as well, only up to all fours. His claws dig furrows as he finds purchase, and with an incoherent snarl, expresses just how far he's getting pushed towards the line. Tense, bloodied fangs bared and hackles sticking out every which way, the philodox fights back against the Beast inside. The smirky look on the Get Fostern's face doesn't help either. For the moment, though, the philodox doesn't reply.

Defiant-Storm seems grateful for the other Get's 'invitation' into the game. Unlike Fights For Hope, though, it is clear Defiant Storm's first method of fighting was nod some fluid martial art---it was brute force. With the quickness of experience and years of training, she comes out of her roll to launch herself at the theurge. His preoccupation with the Shadow Lord doesn't hurt, either, and she lands full force on Jamethon's back. Claws dig in like an Alabama tick, and in an oddly playful 'snarl', she tells the Shadow Lord, ~Get him!~

Fights-For-Hope roars out as he is ganged upon by his own elder. ~Traitor!~ He bellows out, but its obvious he isn't serious about the accusation. Rather than fight to get Signe off of him and just make the claws dug into his flesh rend him all the more, the massive Get just waits. Once Edge makes the move to come forward he stands to full height using his considerable strength and turns like a whipcrack to bring Signe's lower half to bear upon Edge like any other weapon at his disposal.

Edge needed no more invitation or provocation, and charges forward with murderous intent at first. The Shadow Lord's sense of restraint is far from his mind with each slap of paw and claw against the dirt as he lunges forward, but when Fights stands up like a huge grizzly bear, the Lord's instinct kicks in but a second too late. Signe's bottom half collides with the dull crash of hundreds of pounds of weight against hundreds of pounds of weight, and like a three-car wreck, the cliath tumbles right for the pair unable to stop himself in time.

Defiant-Storm grunts with the force of the collision, letting go of her hold on the theurge and crashing past the half moon. For a mooment, the ahroun's vision spins, but a quick, ragged shake of her massive furred head and she's right as rain. She shows both of the other two a full set of wickedly sharp teeth, adding a dominant kind of snarl to the display. And yet, there remains a distinct element of play to her posture.

Fights-For-Hope goes down with the force he wasn't bracing against and tumbles away from the cliath with less than athletic grace, still coming up to his knees facing Edge and Signe once more. Once more the Get Theurge bursts into laughter, an unsettling and wholy strange sound from a Crinos throat. He does dip his head to Signe in a form of respect when, still laughing, his gaze sweeps her way. He seems to be having the time of his life, blood streaming slowly from where just a moment before claws were buried in his hide.

The laughter is contagious. The theurge's rumbling amusement is echoed by Defiant Storm. Her muzzle folds down over her grinning jaw again, and she bellows out laughter to compliment James'. Her shining yellow eyes rake over the half moon, her head bobbing with approval. ~I can see why Fenris deigned to take these Shadow Lords. They have spirit, don't they?~

Edge is the last to regain his senses, but when he does finally orient himself he shakes his entire form like a wet dog throwing off water. From head to tail, droplets of blood and loosened fur are shed. Once the halfmoon has regained a semblance of composure, he remains stooped on four limbs and eyes the Jarl and Gatekeeper with wariness. Hard panting emits from the Shadow Lord. Apparently, he hadn't thought this was supposed to be Fun.

Fights-For-Hope can't help but nod in answer, adding, ~If only they could take more joy in the fight. Far too serious for my liking.~ Then Fights melts to the hispo form, sitting there now a massive dire wolf still more than impressive in size for the particular form. ~May yet learn the joy in it well enough with Dillen's help.~ He looks directly at Edge and his growling tone stays strangely jovial yet calmer than a moment before, ~Once you give up to the fact that you will die. That there is nothing you can do about it. Then you can revel in the fight itself and all that is left is thirst for the next challenge... and you will find that your victories come with a greater joy... and greater glory.~

Defiant-Storm joins her tribemate in hispo, leaving the more hair-trigger war form behind. She also mimicks the theurge by studying the Shadow Lord for a while. After James' has spoken, she adds in a gravely voice, ~Everyone has their own road.~

Edge snorts heavily again, wiping off what blood there is on his previously broken muzzle. He too shifts to a form that doesn't keep his hackles raised so far up. A low rumble that starts in the crinos throat ends in the lupine as the Shadow Lord simply replies with a whurf, that he hadn't expected the Get to jump on every Garou that sought Get for packmates. As to the theurge's notion of leaving death behind, the halfmoon's serious nature carries over with a mild lift of his lips. I no longer fear death, Fights-For-Hope-rhya. But you know as well as I... a Shadow Lord /hates/ to lose.

Fights-For-Hope nods to Signe once more, ~Ain't that the truth. Sad as it is.~ When Edge speaks the Theurge is attentive and at the end he snorts, ~Now you sound like Storm-Singer-yuf. Then don't lose, Edge.~

Defiant-Storm's rumbling laughter erupts again, and she levels her rather fierce and intimidating gaze on the young Shadow Lord philodox. ~Dagger's Edge,~ she grates out like a teacher, ~We jump on everyone. It is the Fenris /way/. And if you spend any time under this new totem of yours, you'll learn that way well enough.~

Edge looks upon the two ranking Get with expression that is part quizzical, part serious - one that can best be described as the expression, "You are So Weird." Still, the Shadow Lord shakes himself once over again and turns so his side is to the two, glancing back to them. I am not too stifftailed to understand that losing is also a part of the cycle. Wolf packs can only have one alpha pair. The rest must fall beneath and aid in the hunt. This much I have learned from fighting with your tribemate, Bloods-Bane. He licks the front of his muzzle, not too pleased by the notion but resolved with it. I look forward to learning more from the Get totem.

Defiant-Storm seems pleased with the Shadow Lord's last statement, if nothing else. She gets to her feet, shakes out her fur much as Edge did earlier, and begins to make her way out of the caern. ~Thank you for the exercise,~ she tells both of them. ~Now, it is time to hunt.~

Fights-For-Hope suddenly is reminded of the markings on his face, and barking a farewell to Signe heads over to the waterfall to check on himself once more.

Edge makes no further comment save a short chuff of farewell to both Get, even though his slight hesitation from the Jarl's mention of hunting strikes him as strange. Fights' face is spared a querying rumble though, and the Shadow Lord turns to head off into the woods on a different angle, probably to lay down and stew over getting beat yet again.