Big Red Barn(#3420RA)
The barn is built in the old style, a vast three level structure that is greater in height than a mere three stories, actually closer to five. Great wooden posts support the weight of the upper levels and roof, sunk into the hard-packed dirt floor of the first level like a sparse forest of regularly spaced, naked trees. The stalls and flagstones which once were here have been torn out to leave a rather open area where even crinos Garou may roam freely without fear of running into anything but the supports or the walls or the ladder at the back which allows access to the other two levels. The first two levels are relatively open to each other, the second being only little wider than a catwalk going around all the walls but the front one, which has massive, twenty foot tall doors set into it. The third level is a true second floor except for a place cut out that allowed hay to be tossed down to the ground floor when the farm was actually worked. Now, it is a hayloft where Garou can sleep outside of the house.
(Non-Garou, please "+view curse")
Contents:
Nikolai
Poe
Ladder-Climber
Brom
Obvious exits:
BarnYard

Poe pricks lupine ears from where he was taking a nice hard nap. His face appears behind a haybale, and he scrambles over it to leap over to Brom. He's stayed in Lupus all day (well...../nearly/ all day) as Brom told them to, and once he reaches the man, he sits, looking curious.

A rustle from above and Ladder-Climber pokes her nose out of the hay on the second floor. How she got there in lupus, nobody knows, how she'll get down... now that's a tricky question. The grey wolf eases her way along the edge of the platform, looking for the best place to jump. Then with a thud she lands not-so-gracefully on the floor, shakes herself, and trots nonchalantly over to Brom.

No one ever said Silver Fangs weren't curious creatures, they just do their best to make their presence perfectly deliberate, as if they were supposed to be there at that exact time something interesting just happens to be occuring. So it is that Nikolai, attracted by the upsurge in noise, pauses in his explorations to open the barn door and lean in the crack against the doorframe, staring into the shade of the building.

And perhaps lured in by the unfamiliar sight of Nikolai headed barnwards, Kenneth slips up from behind, stopping a yard or so from the Fang. He clears his throat, if just to announce himself.

"Before we begin our second exercise of hide and go seek in the Lupus form, I have something discuss." Brom says with a deep rumble in his throat, turning his eyes upon Maggie. "What is this I hear that you are looking to pick a fight with Basil?"

Poe waves his tail slowly back and forth and looks to Maggie. He doesn't say anything for the moment, although his ears and tail do look terribly attentive, suddenly.

Maggie flicks her tongue out and licks her nose. Not pick a fight, she says, Ask Speaks-Poison to fight. Different. Her words are accompanied by a twitch of her tail.

Nikolai turns his scarred chin over his shoulder to observe the boy not far behind him, slowly raising one eyebrow before he steps himself inside the barn to make room if only by choosing to go first. He then proceeds to sit himself, rigidly, upon a bale of hay. An ignoble throne, but a seat regardless.

[look Nikolai]
Nikolai stands a smidge over six and a half, straight as a board after far too many years in private schools. His hair is shaved down to a thin layer, the color such a light ashen grey it's only a few shades off of going white, despite his age which can't be more than mid-twenties at most. The same color is on the stubble on his chin and forms a thin representation of a moustache, though there are several patches where scars prevent the hair from growing in. His eyes are clear and and sharp blue - aquamarine in the light and cobalt in the shadows - almost frequently surrounded by dark, sleepless circles. He dressed typically in nice casual or business-like formal. When he speaks, it's in educated english with a strong russian accent.

Kenneth steps in after, watching Nikolai before taking up a spot beside the door. When he's satisfied his stare towards the Fang, he turns his gaze over to the Get. "Yo, Brom."

"So you are looking to bring challenge to him?" Brom asks once again, raising up a brow as his gaze focuses upon the new moon. "Why is that? To test your skills or something else?" The Silver Fang and the Shadow Lord who just walked into a bar, bad joke, gains a quick look from the Forseti, before focusing upon the female once more. When Kenneth speaks up, he lets out a grunt for a greeting.

Poe tilts his head, and offers up, 'Maggie and Basil not get along' before hushing up again, and looking away, bored.

Ladder-Climber tilts her head at the word challenge, it's obvious she doesn't know what it means, it Garou context at least. I don't like Speaks-Poison she growls, He always says he's better then me, I want to see if it's true. I want to see how much. As she speaks the hair on her back begins to raise ever so slowly, and her tail stiffens.

Nikolai remains seated up the hay, leaning back on his hands slightly as he watches both the cubs. He seems vaguely interested, enough to pay attention but not constantly as his eyes frequently wander.

Kenneth observes the cubs for a little while longer before finally speaking up just a bit more. "So are you gonna just sit there with a cold crowbar up your ass, or are you gonna ID yourself?" The Shadow Lord stares towards the Fang instead.

There is a loud snort from the Get's nostrils. "Better than you? You've been here almost two months and him six and I know for a fact you're fucking better than him. You're a god damn Get are you not?" He says, speaking with a great deal of pride, his pedigree shining through. "And he is nothing more than a buttfucking pussy who won't raise a finger to help his brother Garou. The fucker is too afraid to get his claws wet because it may fuck up his hair or something. He doesn't realize that scars are the greatest glory a Garou can achieve." Jerking his finger over, he points at Nikolai. "Look at him, look at his glory. Each scar tells a story of his bravery when he is neck deep in shit and he came out each time to live. You think kin dig that? Fuck yeah. I bet he has all the pussy he can tap a night. Basil will be lucky to get attention from his own right hand at the pace he is going." His nostrils flare widely. "From here out Maggie, you and I are on full all out training. All the work I've been giving you? That won't mean shit to what I'm about to put you through. How bad /do/ you want to beat him?" He asks.

Poe makes a little motion as if rolling his eyes, but doesn't say anything. He just gives a sigh through his nose and continues to look around distractedly.

Ladder-Climber flattens her ears against her head, her hair falling back against her skin. Twisting around to look at Nikolai, just noticing him, she gives a woof in greeting to him and turns back to Brom. Bad, she growls, her eyes flickering back in Nikolai's direction for moment she adds, If I can't been him then I can't survive when I rite anyways. If I /do/ beat him, maybe he shuts up.

There's the slightest tug at the corner of the Fang's mouth at Brom's words and a silent chuckle before he turns his eyes onto the Shadow Lord. "You know, you might not look so much like a perverse clam if you asked nicely." He retorts smoothly in a strongly accented, but well-spoken english. "But since you insist, I answer that my name is Nikolai Petrov, king-born warrior of the First Tribe, named Burned By the Dragon's Blood some two years past. Cliath now, but formerly Fostern. I would give you the rest of my lineage, but I doubt you would listen."

"Kenneth Saitou-Sardelis, Dagger's-Edge, halfmoon of the Shadow Lords. Brother to the Fenris warpack, Requiem." The Shadow Lord slips his hands into his pockets, leaning against the wood. "At least you assume correctly."

"Even if you lose, that doesn't mean you won't Rite. He is an Ahroun while you are a Rotagar." Brom says with a slight furrow of his brows. "Though if you work hard with me, I will ensure your success." The roll of Poe's eyes do not go unnoticed. Lupus behavior never lies. Giving him a hard look, he says quick and to the point, a growl rising in his throat. "What the fuck is your problem?"

Poe 's attention finally returns to Brom. Nothing, the wolf explains, it's just that Basil is confident of winning over Maggie. I'm not exactly looking forward to my scars either, whether they're something to be proud of or not. 'Pussy' is not the thing I'm going to be considering when I get mine. Basil knows they're unavoidable. Just because your opinions differ in appearance doesn't mean he's bad at combat. You just have issue because Maggie is Get and he's Gnawer, I bet. Oh he might get it for this one. But after that little tirade, he had to say something, even if he'll be counting his teeth.

Ladder-Climber flips her ears up at Brom's offer and promise of victory, it's obvious she'd be very willing to train with Brom more intensely in exchange for a better chance to beat Basil. At Poe's assumption however, she let's out a snarl. Not care that he's a Gnawer, care that he's an asshole! Okay, asshole isn't actually the word she uses, seeing as how it lacks a lupus equivalent, but she growls something equally strong. You not know what he say, you now know the whole story, you not judge what you do not understand.

"I would not be alive if I was unable to." Remarks Fang to Lord before Nikolai's attention is brought back to the male cub, his brows raising slightly as he listens for the reply to the Forsetti's question. The answer brings a slight tick to the corner of his mouth, but he says nothing. They're not his cubs, afterall.

Jervis enters, having discarded his cigarette before entering--though he still smells of harsh, British cigarettes. "I was wondering where you'd wandered off to, Nikolai," he remarks, hardly sounding displeased, rather merely conversational. He then pauses to assess the rest of the garou, having entered, for once well before his usual bout of observation.

"Christ," Kenneth mutters under his breath at the growling and snarls of the cubs. But, he also looks sidelong towards Brom for the philodox's reply to all this. His gaze switches over towards Jervis as the other Fang steps in. "Jervis."

"God fucking dammit, Poe." Brom erupts in anger as he steps towards the pair of cubs, singling out the male as he glares down at him. "Don't tell me you are wasting your fucking time by hanging out with that buttfucking queer. All he does is talk shit about everyone and fucks around. He is a mistake waiting to happen and he will get you killed, and /scars/ are /important/ to the Get of Fenris because scars tell fucking stories. It shows that we aren't buttfucking quitters like the fucking Bone Gnawers!" A quick hand grabs the male lupine by the scruff, dragging him upwards to meet him eye to eye, dangling him in his strong grip. It doesn't feel too good either. "Basil hasn't done anything but /fuck up/ since he chose the Gnawers and he has one fucking excuse after the other of why he doesn't have to lift a damn finger to do a damn fucking thing. He sat and watched three of his Sept brothers get attacked and nearly killed. He tells others he doesn't want to get into a fight because it may fuck up his chance at his Rite. Surprise, surprise, he isn't Riting now. So help me Gaia, Poe, if I find you pissing around with that mother fucker, I /will/ cut off one of your fucking feet and make you my prize student and beat the stupid out of you until your fucking ancestors feel it and can't sit for a week themselves."

Jervis nods as Brom speaks. "In lieu of literacy, scars are the highest form of communication for the Get." It's derisive alright, but hardly venomous, and hardly soft.

The wolf's eyes widen and his face attempts to dissapear into his neck as he's hauled by his scruff to dangle in Brom's grip. It certainly doesn't feel nice, and Poe's expression reflects that. What is even less pleasant is the yelling, but he's so surprised he doesn't even squirm. His tail just dissapears between his legs, and he gives a huffing whine, ears flat, lips pulling back in a silent apology as he licks his lips in a nervous way. He's obviously backed down.

Ladder-Climber flicks her tongue over her nose again and watches the plight of her fellow cub with a touch of amusement, cataloging Poe's words as another thing that sets Brom off. At the Galliards rapid surrender and apology she lays her ears back, annoyed at his seemingly inability to fight for his opinions. Other then that she does nothing but watch the two with steady green eyes.

Seated on a bale of hay, Nikolai looks over to his tribemate and nods his head, giving his good shoulder a vague shrug. "I was never one to waste time sitting around. I thought it best to start learning about this sept. In some ways, I feel like I am come home again." Then, to the dangling cub, he says. "Do you trust the opinions of an untried cub over the lessons of your scarred elders? Only a fool would do so. A fool who dishonors the path set for him by his ancestors by jumping off at the first sign of an easier road."

Kenneth slips further back towards the shadows. He remains silent about the going ons, though Jervis' remark gets the faintest of smirks from the philodox.

"Among other things, Jervis." Brom says with a slight rumble in his throat, then shifts his gaze over to Nikolai as he speaks, dropping Poe back to the ground none too nicely. "You better grow some balls, Poe, and take every word I say seriously. There is a reason why he is called Speaks-Poison. Don't let him poison your mind as well." Turning to the Ahroun Silver Fang, he slightly nods his head, then says. "So, when are we going to test that Vodka of yours? I'm looking forward to getting drunk with you and talk about the 'old days'."

Jervis chuckles at the fray of words, and ends the laughter by placing his forehead in his palm, and shaking his head. "I was called a similar name, as a cub. "Breathes-Poison". Had more to do with Phillip Morris than anything else, but...oh, memories." He smirks, adding softly, "If only Tobin were still with us..." Then he speaks more formally: "You are right to keep your cub from Basil, Brom. He is a terrible influence, this Bone Gnawer cub, and clearly poses a deadly threat to your own sway over your pupils."

Poe gets plunked down somewhat painfully, but has to argue with Nikolai. It is not that, he paws the ground annoyedly, I don't want to not listen. I don't want to run off the path. I don't want to trust the opinions of cubs and not my elders. But I haven't found a friend here. Speaks-Poison only one willing to be my friend, not my elder, not enemy, not telling me what to do. Speaks-Poison may be wrong, but the the only one I can just talk to! Scars may be story, may be important, may be prideful, but you can tell me that all day, but I just don't /see/ it yet. I don't know everything! I am willing to admit this, I have not experienced everything. I can't experience everything all at once. Some things, learned with time.

Ladder-Climber tips her head as Jervis speaks. No one I know, she states, Believes Speaks-Poison's words, only Speaks-Poison believes them. He not a threat to anyone but himself. Turning to listen to Poe's monologue, she lopes over to the Skald and affectionately licks his ear, You come to farm only yesterday, she woofs softly, You make good friends soon. Soon I introduce you to new Walker cub. She gibbous-moon too, she good person.

"The moon is still heavy, Forath-Ripper." Says Nikolai with a sweep of his hand. "Every night is a night to drink. Now sounds like a good time." He stands up off of the hay, brushing off his pants. "Friends are well and good to have, cub, but friends die. Family dies. Enjoy them, but learn first to survive without them." Turning to Jervis, the Ahroun says on his way for the door. "I will be returning to the house. Perhaos later we can speak more. I smoke of a different sort, but it seems a vice we share." And then Nikolai is at the door and headed out.

"Jervis, if I wanted your opinion, I'd beat it out of you, otherwise, don't interject. You don't know what kind of influence Basil has had over some of the cubs here so far and obviously by dumbshit's answr." Brom says with a point towards Poe. "I rest my case." He flashes the Ragabash Fang a wide, toothy grin, before turning back to the Galliard. "You have been a Garou hardly over a week. Right now, you aren't in the proper place to make assumptions or long winded
statements. What you say, is Yes, Brom Rhya, and that is what keeps you alive and not having to heal a broken jaw. If you want friends, then make them with Climbs the Ladder here, for she is your sister in arms and in the same position you are in. Look to your family, the Get of Fenris for companionship, not gutter crawling currs." Letting out a heavy breath, he rocks his large shoulders back. "Alright Nikolai." He rumbles in his throat, finding himself a bit too ramped up. "I think I'll at least join you on the walk. Need to clear my head before I end up killing someone." With that, he turns to follow.

Kenneth snorts again, a growl threatening to claw its way out of the Shadow Lord's insides. He turns abruptly as well, but gets interrupted by Nikolai heading out. That slight pause just lasts long enough to have the philodox utter out, "Keep your enemies closer." Then, he too starts out, a hand raking over his hair.

Jervis chuckles, as Nikolai and Kenneth leave. To Kenneth, he look up, saying: "You are truly in the wrong company, my friend."

Kenneth stops before he leaves, looking back over his shoulder at Jervis. "And that's supposed to mean?"

Poe earflattens at Brom at /that/, but seems somewhat soothed at Maggie's lick to his ear. I hope so, he woofs back, lonely. He then turns and lopes back to the hay. They didn't even get to do their excercise...Poe is liking Brom less and less as a teacher.

Jervis shakes his head slowly. "Nothing at all, Kenneth. Your own reach, seems to exceed, I'll wager, the grasp of all but you. I'll elaborate later, perhaps. You _are_ on your way out, after all. I shan't keep you." He smirks, and gives a bit of a wink to the Shadow Lord, his back turned to the Lord's Alpha.

Ladder-Climber flattens her ears as Brom leaves, not aggressively, more, disappointed. With a sniff to the air, she woofs a goodbye to the departing Garou, and trots after Poe, ears and tail held hight, asking for his attention with a sharp bark.

Kenneth narrows his gaze a touch at the Fang ragabash, but the philodox doesn't stay much longer. "Perhaps." He nods a short departing note to the Silver Fang only, before heading out.