1/31/2005

09:04 PM
Logfile from GarouMUSH.

Currently the moon is in the waning Half Moon phase (55% full).
Currently in Saint Claire, it is clear outside. The temperature is 44 degrees Fahrenheit (6 degrees Celsius). The wind is calm today. The barometric pressure reading is 30.45 and steady, and the relative humidity is 82 percent. The dewpoint is 39 degrees Fahrenheit (3 degrees Celsius.)

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

[look Kenneth]
Kenneth(#3651Pc)
     Kenneth is already tall and a somber youth. A certain aura, an intangible, uncomfortable atmosphere penetrates his otherwise good social graces that makes him seem at first impression, unapproachable. He is not only young, but fairly attractive as well. His body has the tone of athletic potential, yet is not intimidatingly muscled. The way his dark hair carries itself back gives the impression of a windswept style, with the forelocks lurking forward, tips hanging just over his eyes in a way that accentuates the long, appealing features and shape of his face. At first impression, he may seem completely Asian by heritage, but at a more direct glance, there are a few traits that hint at a mixture of bloodlines both Western and Eastern. The mild slants of his eyebrows add a way to tell his variances of expression from his normally cold black eyes. While not eccentrically colored, his gaze can become highlighted with a slightly lighter grey cast in stronger lighting.
     A time of casual dress, Kenneth sports a black t-shirt. Underneath a white wifebeater tank and over it his black warmup jacket with a zip-front, high collar, and boldly marked with a scythe of white across the front of the jacket. The logo on the left side shows a black stylized bird in flight silhouette, with the word 'RAPTOR' beneath it. Dark blue loose fitting jeans and black sneakers clothe the lower torso, with a brightly gleaming chain sprouting from one pocket.

A fire crackles in the dark metal of the fireplace. Before it, the Shadow Lord Elder sits, deep in thought. A half-finished glass of ruby wine sits beside him on a table as he stares into the glowing embers beneath the flames. Perhaps he is seeking wisdom in their pulsating light. Perhaps he is seeking escape. It is difficult to tell.

The lift rumbles, metal and wires moving in indication of someone coming up to the loft. Doors open, and Kenneth steps out, sparing a moment to thump his feet a couple of times on the floor of the elevator before entering the living area's threshold. The flickering firelight attracts his attentions for not more than a second or two, as well as the red glint of the wine, but does not hold him for long. Almost as if not wanting to disturb the elder or even let him know he's there, the youth only steps in a few paces. The elevator dings behind him, doors closing.

The chime of the elevator rouses the elder slightly and he looks over at Kenneth. At first, he seems unable to recognize the youth. He is still caught up in his reverie and solitude. After a few seconds, however, he nods. "Kenneth. Come. Sit." His tone is neutral, not the poisonous sarcasm one usually expects from Jarred, nor yet the soft, silken menace of his occasionally threatening nature.

Kenneth runs a hand through his hair, which itself looks like its length is getting annoyingly long. Not exactly eager, but unhesitant either, the halfmoon moves towards his elder, adjusting the boldly marked black and white warmup jacket he wears. Sitting where indicated, he looks from fire to elder, silent as a night's cloud. Only a vague degree of tense restlessness could be detected in the philodox tonight, evidenced by the certain stiffness in his movements.

Jarred watches the Philodox until he is nearby, then gestures to the couch. "Please sit. I need to speak to you." He reaches over and lifts the goblet to his lips, taking another long sip of the wine before leaning back into his own chair.

Kenneth takes his seat, no complaints, no comment. Settled in, he levels his dark eyes upon the elder and waits expectantly, though a certain degree of distraction comes from the crackling blaze. "You really going to go to Megan on all this?" Finally, the halfmoon breaks his silence like a crack in a glacier's side. "I heard from Dillen."

Jarred doesn't speak for a bit, content to size up the boy before him, as if weighing the intent of the question. At length, however, he nods. "I gave Dillen a week to see what he could do. If Lucas cannot be brought around, I must report him to the Sept Alpha as a danger to his septmates, to Humanity and to the Veil. I fear he is taking upon himself the taint of the corruptor with each uncontrollable frenzy."

Kenneth at this, looks off from the elder and fire towards the night's sky through the windows. "I know," he remarks with quieted tone. "I'm workin' on it with Dillen." A hint comes through that there might be more to it, but the philodox says little more on it. Turning his gaze back to his elder, he tilts his chin slightly upwards, eyes targeting upon the older Garou. "Do you trust me?"

Jarred doesn't hesitate. "I trust your intent. It is your judgement and methods that cause me concern at times, Kenneth. In the warehouse, you ignored my commands and forged ahead with your own plans, regardless of my will or my reasons. At times you border on insolence. At other times, you cross that borner into full insubordination."

Kenneth grits his jaw there and looks off again. "Leader may not be challenged in times of war..." he mutters, more to himself than at his elder. Gaze dropping couchwards, for a split second, the halfmoon's expression goes from tight control to utter blank loss and frustrated confusion. It is quickly school back to that control however, and he looks up and back again. "I felt it was the better thing to do, but it doesn't justify me going against your command." It is with stiffness that he admits it, and his eyes slip from the elder's face to somewhere around his glass of wine. "I warned 'im myself. If he took to eatin' babies, I'd kill him..."

Jarred smiles grimly. "You may say that all you like, but remember that he is an Ahroun. He is build for war. You are not. You must take care not to antagonize him. He might come at you in his rage and put an end to you." He sits quietly for a bit before continuing. "What is the plan you and Dillen are working on? How do you intend to help Lucas?"

Kenneth clenches up accompanied with his gaze flickering like the fire up to the elder's face once more. He tenses, fighting down the feral, upper lip curl. "I could take 'im," he insists, although the halfmoon doesn't dwell there long. Exerting his will to keep his calm, he looks over to the blaze. "We're going to find him a ... someone who knows how to deal with the Rage, and ask 'em to teach Lucas. We ain't told anyone what's happened, and we're keeping it that way. Just general stuff like that."

Jarred grimaces. "Why do you do that, Kenneth? Why do you take umbrage when I remind you of your auspice? You seem gung-ho to do anything but actually be a judge. Have you no concept of the sacred duty to which you have been called? You seem to be more interested in proving your physical superiority or learning mystical rites than in learning to do what you were born to do. Even in your Rite of Passage, it was Lucas who did the negotiating. You flew right into a rage."

"The guy pulled silver on me," Kenneth hisses, voice turning up like steam through a kettle. "And What is the 'Sacred Duty', hunh? You tell me - What am I doing wrong? Oh wait, maybe I shouldn't ask you, because you're a galliard!" Already hard pressed, the pressure to hold himself in is simmering under the tight lid. "A philodox is supposed to be balanced. Fine. My balance is black," he makes a box like motion on one side of him, "and white." Another box, on the other. "The plain fact of the matter, Jarred-rhya, is that I don't do wishy-washy. I'm in, or I'm out. And goddamnit if this sept's halfmoons weren't all proper fucked in their own every which way. Ronin guard the caerns, metis all hang out wherever they please, and we... we fucking deal with vampires!" He stands, unable to keep still. "You tell me, what am I supposed to be learning? What am I supposed to be judging?"

Jarred cannot disguise the contempt that now radiates from him. "As a Shadow Lord, I expect you to learn that life isn't black and white. That is a simplistic vision of how things should be, cooked up by a lazy mind. You are too intelligent to believe in such drivel. Or at least I thought you were." His voice becomes icy. "And if you feel that our sept isn't to your liking, my perfect philodox, then you are free to leave."

Kenneth shakes with the bubbling anger, throat tight as his vision blurs on its edges. "Then I'll fucking change!" he yells back at the galliard full force now, voice breaking with the rage. The breath runs out, and he sits back down heavily, head down with his hands clenching either side through his hair. "Goddamnit," he groans. Trying to keep his cool is not working very well, but at the same time his embarrassment for the breakdown mounts.

[Later...]

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:
Stacey
Obvious exits:
Burial Mounds Story Tree Caern of the Hidden Walk Western Bawn Southern Bawn Northern Bawn Eastern Bawn

[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.

The moon nearly cut in half in the sky, the time of the philodox yields one of such auspice running beneath it. Kenneth's path is hectic, tense like a rabbit bolting for its hole rather than the wolf pursuing it. Black sneakers striking the ground hard, he blows past trees, ducks under low branches just barely and jumps roots almost as if they were seeking him out to drag him beneath the surface and bury him in their tangles forever.

Stacey is walking calming through the forest, oblivious of the running Shadow Lord as she gazes up at the sky, searching for the moon. It is only when he draws near that her attention is brought back to the earth. Seeing the Lord running in her direction at a rather fast pace, she scrambles to get out the way and ends up tripping on an unnoticed rock and falling to the ground with a cry of surprise.

Kenneth looks at first like he doesn't know where he's going, nor that he sees the Coggie ahroun. He runs right past her as well, getting a decently long distance away before the sounds of his footsteps slows and finally halts. At first, there isn't any indication that he's even in the area anymore. Not until the halfmoon's voice breaks the night's quiet symphony of sound with a rough note. "You hurt?"

Stacey stands to her feet and dusts off her clothes as she looks in the direction of the voice. "Yeah. You just startled me is all. Are /you/ okay? Seemed like you had Hell after you, the way you were runnin'."

It's hard to spot the Shadow Lord at first. Jacket zipped, otherwise darkly clothed, only a glimmer of the moonlight filtered through the dense trees hits the white stripe marking the cloth. His footsteps come closer then, but he remains standing in the shadow just out of direct sight. There isn't any answer to the Child's query - only the distinct in and out heavy breathing that indicates the philodox is still there.

Stacey watches the shadowed figure with unveiled curiosity. She smirks and shakes her head. "Interesting fellow. Running one moment, standing in shadows the next. Were ya just working out then? Nightly run?" She pauses to pick a leaf out of her hair.

"Shut u--" The phrase cuts itself off before it has any more chance to develop, and Kenneth moves from the shadows of a large tree. Hard to tell still in the night, but he stares darkly at the Child. "I was getting stuff out of my system," he replies with a quick sniff. He stops just far enough so that he can see her, and vice versa. "Who're you?" he demands, not remembering their previous meeting.

Stacey stiffens at his response. "I should ask the same of you, sir," she says, not recognizing the Lord either, never having seen him in homid. "I am Stacey," the girl says, offering a small smile. "Stacey Kynds. And you?"

Kenneth narrows his eyes further, gaze looking her up and down searchingly for a modicum of recognition. It's in her smile, perhaps, that he finds it. "Chases-the-Shadows," he remembers. "I met you in lupus... Kenneth. Kenneth King..." Shaking his head, he modifies, "Kenneth Saitoh-Sardelis. Dagger's-Edge... or just Edge for short."

Stacey's smile widens a bit as she recognizes the name. "Kenneth... yes, I remember. We spoke of your pack briefly, of Fenris. But that is not my name now. I am Walks-the-Middle-Road, Cliath."

Kenneth lifts his chin a bit, still scrutinizing. "Yeah?" he replies, sort of terse but not particularly unfriendly - at least, it sounds like he's trying really hard not to show his irritations that rankle underneath his skin. Turning away, he mumbles a soft 'congrats' and looks down to his hand. The right ring finger, bearing a gold ring set with small, emerald colored stone. It is quickly stuffed back into his jacket pocket afterwards. Lacking in what else to say, he stays in awkward silence, occassionally peering back in the ahroun's direction.

Stacey frowns as she looks at the Shadow Lord, her gaze searching, but kind. "Thank you," she says softly, then pauses before asking: "Is something bothering you?"

Kenneth's lips draw tight, though the change of expression is lost in the dark. Posture radiating tension though, he remains unaware of his dead giveaway. "It's nothin' you gotta worry about," he replies after another stint of silence, remaining with back turned to the Child. "It's just the moon."

"Ah," she says, her tone understanding. Stacey tilts her head back to look skywards. "Both a blessing and a curse, eh?" Then she lowers her head, her gaze returning to Kenneth. "And how are you otherwise?"

Kenneth extracts a hand from his pocket, putting it up to his head. "You don't want to know," he answers stiffly. "Trust me."

Stacey frowns again and sighs, seemingly upset that she cannot help in some way. "I hope that things work out for you then, Kenneth." She lowers her gaze to the ground for a moment, then raises it again to the Philodox. "What of your packmates? Are they well?"

Kenneth heaves out a sigh before he could stop it, eyes rolling up and lids shutting like that was the worst question Stacey could ask of him. "They're..." The philodox searches for an appropriate euphemism, lips parted as he finishes, "occupied with personal matters." He sucks in a second breath, ragged in sound before he opens his eyes and gazes sidelong at the girl. "Why're you askin'?"

Stacey's frown deepens as the Shadow Lord answer. "Why, because Lucas is my friend!" the young girl answers, worry and defensiveness mixed into her tone. "Well, or so I consider him, not real sure if he'd say the same of me. I like him anyways. And I like Dillen well enough, too. He's going to spar with me... So... why /wouldn't/ I ask after them when I can?"

Kenneth blinks, and his hand dropping from his temple. The look he gives her is one of incredulity. "Lucas is your... friend..." he repeats ever so slowly, like the notion is a theory out of quantum physics. "Good god," he utters before making to look around for fire and brimstone to be falling from the skies. Then he eyes the girl again. "You gotta weird taste in friends, Stace. An' aside from that, dangerous taste."

Stacey still frowns and looks extremely confused. It's probably the confusion that keeps her from feeling hurt by the comment. "Why? Because he's a Shadow Lord and an Ahroun?" she asks with child-like sincerity. "Lucas has always been really nice to me. He even let me go with him on patrol once. You should have seen him when we caught that man..." She shrugs and looks down. "Lucas has a good heart and all, just has a lot of rage to go with it. To call that a dangerous friend... well... How can you be a Garou and not be around danger?"

Kenneth continues along the line of staring at the Child in a manner of disbelief at her words. It's a few long tickings of just pure, unadulterated slack-jaw expression before he realizes he's stared at her. Clamming his lip up, he turns to his side, brow furrowed with something that undoubtedly disturbs him. "You... went out on patrol with Lucas before? What'd he do to the guy? Never mind... I don't really want to know." Morbid curiosity more than anything, diverts the philodox's previously clipped tones. "Because he's a /Shadow Lord/, he's an ahroun, and he's a Rage-Whore is what he is. He's looser up in the bolts on his neck than White Bear is. Good freakin' god, Stacey, you seen 'im. Lucas is ... Lucas is Crazy."

Stacey shakes her head, looking bewildered. "That doesn't sound like the Lucas I know at all! And he didn't do anything to the man, just kept him down until the police arrived. I was more thinking of how he cared about the kids that were being hurt..." She breaks off, biting her lip. "If he's so bad," she asks quietly, "why'd you pack with him? And while I'm defending people," she adds, her voice raising a bit, although there's some humor in it, "I might as well add that White Bear's not that bad either if you catch him at the right time."

Kenneth slowly turns to fully face the Child, lips parted slightly. It looks as if he were about to press his point hard at her, but eventually he blows out his breath and shakes his head slowly. "You ain't seen 'em at full moon," he reasons. "Or you have, but only at moot." He turns his gaze away. "If you saw Lucas now, you'd get scared off. Hell, even Jarred's scared of Lucas now." He looks back to the Gaian, thoughtfully for a long moment. "Can... Can you keep a secret?"

Stacey lowers her head slightly, as though conceding Kenneth's point about the moon, then she raises her hand up to rub her temple, looking weary and pained. At his question the Child looks up and nods solemnly. "I can. And may my claws dull and bones break if ever this proves otherwise."

"How 'bout goin' to the city? You bounce back an' forth or just stick around out here?" Kenneth steps forward another pace, with the moonlight just hitting through the leaves and scattering onto his face. The expression is tense, wary, but seeking. "Because you can't tell anyone 'bout it. If you do, you'll be condemning Lucas to die."

Stacey raises her brows at this, looking even more worried than before. "I go to the city when I can. Hard for a girl my age to get rides..." She lifts her gaze to meet the Lord's. "And you can trust me, Kenneth. As Gaia is my witness, I will tell no one."

Kenneth narrows his gaze, black eyes meeting the girl's. He gets almost too close, furtively looking through the woods and half expecting an ear. Then, somewhat satisfied, he utters in a near whisper, "He Thralled." His tone, like a distant rumble of thunder. "By the time we found 'im, he'd eaten a couple bums. Batshit crazy." Then the philodox steps back, looking away and around again like he'd just dropped the hint to a big deal going down. "He's got a week. Dillen and I... we're lookin' real hard for a solution to get him under control. But if he doesn't can it and cool it... he's goin' under the elders' axes."

Stacey pales at this and grows very still, almost looking sick. A few moments pass, and then she closes her eyes and takes in a deep, shaky breath. "Great Gaia..." she murmurs, and then looks up at the Shadow Lord. "So... so what can I do to help? I mean... I know I can't show that I know anything, but... is there anything I can do? He... I mean...damn." She shakes her head, jaw clenched, hands stuffed into her pockets. "What he did is terrible... beyond terrible. But he wasn't himself... I want to help if there's a way. I'd like to see him get another chance."

Kenneth breathes out, sounding like a snake's hiss in a way, sounding relieved that Stacey didn't freak out in another. "He wasn't himself, no. Not when we'd seen what he'd done," he utters with effort, trying not to let his own bias creep into his voice. "But you can't tell a damn soul, got it?" Here his finger jabs the air towards the ahroun. "I only tell you because I figure you're Ok. I don't know when... if... Lucas will be allowed to step foot outside Shadow's End. But if you can think of somethin' that we can't think of to help Lucas out..." The philodox trails, looking away with his teeth starting to grit again. "Anyway. You asked how Requiem was doin'. I won't lie - we're have some internal affairs to handle. But Dillen and I decided that we need to get some kind of outside help. It ain't gonna come easy, but there's got to be something that can be done. I've only spoken with Jamethon-rhya about this, but..." Here the halfmoon pauses again. "But, he doesn't know about the giant people eater thing. So Don't let on that you know anythin', alright?" He gazes straight at the ahroun again, hard.

Stacey meets Kenneth's gaze, lifting a shaking hand to push her hair back from her face. "I gave you my word, Kenneth. Even if I wanted to, I wouldn't tell. I don't, though, want to. If I think of anything, I will let you know. You said he has a... a week? That's not very long."

Kenneth lowers his gaze, looking over his shoulder. "He's a Shadow Lord," he repeats. "We don't take failure lightly. If he can't get it together in a week..." The halfmoon hitches a shoulder up and slips both hands into his jacket. "Then what happens, happens. If you get a chance to drop by the city, now that the moon's gettin' smaller..." He turns and starts off away from the ahroun, gait looking stiffer again. "You'll have to come by when Jarred's not around, if you wanna see 'im. Don't tell anyone," he reminds quietly.