8/28/2005

01:56 PM
Logfile from GarouMUSH.

Currently the moon is in the waning Half Moon phase (42% full).
It is currently 13:28 Pacific Time on Sun Aug 28 2005.

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:
Bug
Obvious exits:
BarnYard  

[look Kenneth]
Kenneth is a tall dark stranger waiting to happen. An uncomfortable atmosphere penetrates his otherwise decent social graces, with a cold intensity in his gaze of one who wishes to prove his existence's worth, if only to himself alone. But in reality, he is young and attractive. His body is lean, not intimidatingly muscled but nonetheless carries in it a high athletic potential.
It is his face, though, that gives him a feel of a feral animal wearing a human's skin. His hair needs trimming and looks to be combed only by his own slender fingers; left to grow at its own rampant pace, the one fashion it could be stated to have is a naturally lion's mane quality in its windswept manner. Part of the exoticism could be the teen's heritage, which by first glance is completely Asian. A closer look though, hints at a mixture of bloodlines both Western and Eastern. Underneath the mild slants of his eyebrows, his nearly black eyes rarely light with a grey color in stronger lighting.
His dress is an attempt to be formal, but it almost seems like he has nearly no other spare clothes. The white collared button-down shirt is left open, covering a thin black tanktop that is fraying around the ends. Dark blue jeans stained with dirt, wearing around the knees, and formerly-white tennis shoes accompany the top. Around his neck hangs perhaps the most valuable of his accessories, a thin ball-chain that loops around with a unique and expensive looking pair of twin gold rings, both glittering with a small emerald setting.

[look Bug]
She looks young, maybe somewhere around eleven or twelve years of age. Her limbs are gangly, a little too long for the rest of her, a little too clumsy to be anything but the product of early puberty. As far as her build goes, she's whipcord thin--the evidence of ill nutrition is still present, though she's begun to build some muscle tone, and her previously hollow cheeks have filled out.
Her hair is red, not the carrot top redness that is more common, but a dark auburn. The hair reaches just past her shoulders, though the length is definitely not uniform, and there are split ends galore. In spite of this, however, it has been pulled back into a tight french braid, as neat as can be under the circumstances. Her face is well shaped, with pronounced cheek bones and the promise that, given a few years, it might well prove decently attractive. Her eyes are a muddy sort of green, almost hazel but not quite.
She's wearing a pair of very worn looking khaki pants, and an old t-shirt that is so faded the original slogan is unreadable. She has no shoes or socks, but her feet, dirty as they are, look extremely calloused, very used to having no other protection beyond her own skin. There are holes torn into either side of the shirt. This allows for her metis deformity to show clear and obvious--there's an extra pair of arms about halfway down her torso. They look even thinner than her normal pair, and the hands themselves are ill formed, with somewhat stubby fingers that are mostly the same length apart from the thumb, no fingernails, and a missing middle finger on each hand (and a space for where that finger should be).

Hey, here's a sight. Bug is standing in front of the punching bag, legs slightly spread, extra pair of arms crossed over her stomach, glowering at said object as though it were taunting her. As for her upper pair of arms, her hands are clenched into fists, and, this is the strangest part, they actually don't look awkwardly held. Someone, clearly, has been coaching her. And this becomes more obvious as she strikes at the punching back--three hits, all centered, all fairly forceful, and all in quick succession.

As the barn echoes hollowly with the sound of flesh to canvas, the sound of the door opening follows quick on its tail. Kenneth stands there with eyes scanning, slightly silhouetted with the light from the outside behind. He squints, stepping in towards the punching bag only to pause at the sight of Bug. And stares. "What.. the fuck.."

Stacey appears at the door behind Kenneth and peeks over his shoulder, raising a brow. "Oh, hey, nice punches. That what Brom taught ya?"

Bug gives a small little jump and skitters to one side, eyeing Kenneth warily. In that one movement she's dropped to a near crouch, with her shoulders so bunched forward and her back so bent that one might suspect her of having a curved spine. Only her fists remain clenched, and that's likely do to her sudden alarm, not training. She shakes her head at Stacey's question as she arrives. "Touch Deer."

Kenneth whips his gaze around his shoulder, stiffening with surprise but otherwise standing straight. "Stacey." He swallows down a grunt, moving in further, closer, towards the metis. Black eyes examine her mercilessly, like a wolf appraising another. "I remember you. You're the metis cub," he utters. "Bug."

Stacey ohs and grins. "That's right, Touch Deer. Ya learned well." She nods toward the Shadow Lord when he turns toward her. "Hey, Kenneth."

Bug doesn't cringe under the examination, though she does grow tenser the closer the Shadow Lord comes. "Yes," the metis grunts. "Is Bug." She pauses, her mouth partly open, and then closes it.

Kenneth exhales sharply, finishing his examination from afar. "Kenneth," he introduces gruffly. "Dagger's-Edge, Shadow Lord philodox." He doesn't add the rest. "You can keep punchin'," he says with gesture towards the bag. Then, he turns partway to look to Stacey. "The barnyard looks like a freakin' disaster area. The hell happened out here, you know?"

Stacey spreads her hands, eyes widening. "Hey, wasn't me, I have an alibi. Was in the city, remember? Haven't heard what happened yet."

Bug studies Kenneth's chest for a moment, before her nostrils flare. She straightens, returning to the punching bag, but not without giving both of the other Garou a wide, cautious berth, and positioning herself so that she can watch both of them while she works. Her next blow is just as well aimed, but terrifically low powered--it's more of a tap than anything.

Kenneth gives the Child a tight-lipped smile of knowing. Fleeting, at best. "Least we didn't come back to flashin' red and blue lights." The philodox turns his gaze towards the bag, drawn towards the sound more than the sight of the training cub. "More blood spilled, for Gaia, I guess."

Stacey smiles and nods. "Yeah, very true. I'm sure we'll hear more soon. Hope no one was hurt too badly." She glances over at Bug. "So, is Touch Deer around, Bug?"

Bug runs her tongue over her lips and squares her shoulders. "Not know." She does another three-set, much harder than her previous punch. There's only a brief pause, and then she does it again. And again, with a still briefer hesitation.

Fingertips brushing his chin in thought, Kenneth continues to watch Bug at the bag. "He's probably out on the bawn, bein' the new Groundskeeper an' that." The philodox lapses into silence after his comment, observing.

Stacey nods and walks over to a hay bale, beginning to empty her pockets. "Yeah, he probably is. I'll have to find him later." She glances sideways at Kenneth, mischievous, calculating.

Bug continues to work at the punching bag, face wrinkling harshly. A few more sets, and she's back to how she was when Kenneth walked in, a steady, rhythmic beat of fists on canvas.

Kenneth nods absently, eyes observing the metis at the bag only now. He misses the sideways glancing received from the ahroun for moments, with just a passing tingle at the back of his neck telling him to look her way. He blinks. "Yea?"

Stacey grins and stretches her arms, watching him as she walks more towards the center of the barn. "Oh, I was just thinking... Rematch?"

Thump, thump. Bug pauses with her fist still touching the bag, and tilts her head to one side, turning her attention back toward the other two Garou.

Now the Shadow Lord fully turns to the Child. An appraising look is sent, and the tight-lipped smile returns. "You know the bans of Fenris. You're on." He indicates the center of the barn, allowing the ahroun to go first.

Stacey once glance is given the cub, and then she returns her attention to Kenneth. The girl stops when she reaches the center and crouches into an on-guard position. "What terms? Any form, no intentional clawing or biting? Or what?"

Bug backs away from the bag, stepping carefully. She does not stop her retreat until she's slunk onto one of the piles of old straw in the barn's corner, and from there she clambers near the top and settles back, looking wary.

Kenneth carefully takes off the rings looped through chain around his neck, and the shirt covering his tanktop. "No Gifts," he replies as he folds his shirt. "And first to submit's the loser." His eyes inevitably glance towards Bug when she moves, taking stock of the metis' whereabouts before turning back to the ahroun. "Anything else?"

Stacey smirks and shakes her head, also glancing at the cub as she backs into the corner. "No, that sounds good to me," she answers, watching him warily as he prepares.

Kenneth half grins again, placing his shirt down upon a nearby haybale and returning to the center with the ahroun. "Come on then," he invites, dropping into a readying stance. Though his is the initial invitation, Kenneth goes for first strike. The teen fakes a right jab, hooking with his left fist after, low in compensation for the shorter ahroun's torso.

Stacey puts an arm up to block the faked jab, but only manages to off-center the second blow, grunting as it hits her. She responds with a quick kick to his side, followed by a punch to his chest.

Kenneth backs off with the ahroun's solid punch, grunting at the impact, a hand rubbing at the spot. No harm done just yet. "You've gotten better," he notes, circling around, looking for his next opportunity.

Stacey grins. "Practiced a bit." She watches as he circles, but doesn't wait long before she lunges toward him, fists swinging to deliver a series of punches, much like what Bug was practicing earlier.

Kenneth doesn't retaliate this time, but works on dodging and twisting with the force of the ahroun's attacks. Experiences return, muscles contorting as he grabs for a passing wrist, aimed to turn and toss the ahroun over his shoulder, classic throw style.

Stacey gets thrown and lands on the ground with a thud, but she manages to roll with it and works on regaining her footing, now watching the Shadow Lord instead of jumping back in.

A good thing the ahroun moves, too, as Kenneth doesn't stop with just putting her down. His fist hits the dirt where her back was just a second earlier, and the philodox disappointedly grunts. He looks up and about for the Child, dropped on a knee and a fist. He watches her for another moment, before finally the halfmoon's the first to tap his Rage, blurring forward with speed quicker than the eye, shape contorting in the air into that of his black-furred hispo form. He charges, intent to tackle the ahroun.

Stacey doesn't even try to dodge. Instead, she also uses rage to blur into Hispo and braces herself for the Shadow Lord's charge, snarling, hackles rising in an attempt to intimidate as he runs toward her.

Clash! Hulk meets hulk, with the philodox's form hitting hard as he can like a runaway train, though not enough to topple her. Intimidation, apparently, doesn't work too well on him, only goading the halfmoon into a further ferocious attack. He goes straight for the ahroun's vulnerabilities, jaws snapping for her throat to grab ahold.

Walks-Middle lowers her chin to protect her throat and shoves against the Philodox, growling as she tries to knock him off balance.

Dagger's-Edge snaps again, but getting shoved pushes the hispo away. He turns again, lunging forward, this time shifting into the warform and leveling a hefty punch of his dominant left fist right for the ahroun's head.

Walks-Middle chooses to lunge forward as Dagger's-Edge does, trying to ram into the Crinos and possible avoid getting her head hit at least.

Dagger's-Edge doesn't miss - for the most part, as his punch connects not with the Child's head, but her shoulder, easily absorbed and countered by the bulk of the charging hispo. The Shadow Lord gets pushed back and down, hundreds of pounds of hispo on him. Something crunches, audible to lupine sensed ears, and the philodox Growls. His clawed hands shoot up, grappling again for the hispo's throat.

Walks-Middle burns rage to shift up into the War Form, putting her weight forward to keep the Shadow Lord down. As he reaches for her throat, the Gaian snarls, rage threatening for a moment to boil over, and she reaches up to swipe a clawed hand across Dagger's face.

Dagger's-Edge misses his grab for the ahroun's throat due to her shift. Back on the ground in vulnerability, he snarls viciously, only to get cut off as the fullmoon cuts four keratin knives over his face and draws the first blood. Ears pin back, and the philodox roars in her face. His own hands grab for anything in range, pulling hard as he twists to topple the furry weight atop him, to be the one pinning instead of pinned.

Walks-Middle fights harder after the drawing of blood, returning the Philodox's roar with a growl of her own. The Shadow Lord grabs a hold of her, and, despite her efforts, manages to topple her. She still struggles ferociously, trying to keep him from pinning her down well.

Dagger's-Edge snarls and grunts in effort in trying to keep the fiesty ahroun down, his left hand lifting again to ball and strike the fullmoon on the face. No mercy, no quarter is given save that he saves his claws, trying to go for a knockout rather than a killing blow. It's his blood that he smells in the air though, and his blood that drips down from a cut muzzle.

Walks-Middle takes the punch and growls, disoriented. With a roar of rage, she grabs a hold of his shoulders and twists, trying to pin him down once again, her jaws opening and wasting no time in heading for his throat.

Dagger's-Edge, in the middle of leveling another punch, gets shoved back onto his own back with a grunt. His claws suddenly uncurl, pricking and poking as he fights to regain control. But it is in his struggling that he forgets to protect his own throat, and the ahroun's teeth find their mark to clamp down. Desperation and lack of care divert the philodox's claws from gripping the ahroun's shoulders to curling over her muzzle. The Shadow Lord tries to pry her loose, but it's dangerous going. ~Let Go,~ he snarls, as if his command might be heeded even in his position.

Walks-Middle narrows her eyes at the Shadow Lord's words, trying to not lose her grip while still not hurting him, despite his movements. With a growl of frustration, the Gaian, still stubbornly holding on to his throat, takes on more dominant posture, tail held high, hackles raising, every bit of her, except the full mouth, screaming for the philodox to submit.

Dagger's-Edge growls again as he tries even harder for one more time, to loosen the hold the ahroun has around his throat. He shakes violently, dancing on the edge of frenzy, breath getting harsher by both his own doing and Walks' tight grip and weight atop him. Finally, after tense seconds, the Shadow Lord lets go of the ahroun's muzzle. He doesn't say anything, but ceases struggling. Eyes look away, ears turn back, and his lips peel back in a wolf's 'grin' of appeasement. He submits.

Walks-Middle releases the Philodox once he submits and rolls off of him, breathing heavily. She slowly shifts down into her birth form, and then looks over at the Shadow Lord, victorious.

Dagger's-Edge grunts as the heavyweight ahroun is off, sitting himself up and shifting down. He stops at Glabro, brushing off a dirty hand to lightly dab at the angry slices over his face. Looking down at the blood on the back of his somewhat hairier hand, the philodox grunts. "Good fight," he says, finally. "We're even now."