1/15/2006

09:06 PM
Logfile from GarouMUSH.

Currently the moon is in the waning Full Moon phase (91% full).
It is currently 20:59 Pacific Time on Sun Jan 15 2006.
Currently in Saint Claire, it is a cloudy day. The temperature is 40 degrees Fahrenheit (4 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from the southwest at 3 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 30.27 and steady, and the relative humidity is 86 percent. The dewpoint is 36 degrees Fahrenheit (2 degrees Celsius.)

Bawn: Western Forest(#3018RA)
Tall Sitka spruce and sequoia crowd around and above you. Many of the trees are old, their branches twisted into impossible shapes, trunks broad and draped with lichen, mosses and creepers. Tendrils of moss hand down from them like green spiderwebs, snaring the unwary with cold, ghostly fingers. The patches of younger growth are dense and pale, needles tinged with silver. Matted undergrowth huddles sullenly in the occasional small clearings, clutching with thorns and burrs at the legs of those who would pass. Deer seldom venture here, but the forest is full of rustlings, and tiny glints from wary, watchful eyes.
The forest spreads out to the east, bounded on the west by Sunrise Road. From farther to the west, one can occasionally hear the distant sounds of the town of Kent's Crossing.
Contents:
Gypsy
Dillen
Pierces Ice
Obvious exits:
Highway 22  Overgrown Path  Sunrise Road  Farmhouse  Caern of the Hidden Walk  Creek  Central Bawn  Southern Bawn  Northern Bawn  

Gypsy accepts his hand up off the back of the bike and she looks on as he moves out into the forest line. She clasps her hands behind her back as she waits, listening intently. Her bright eyes scan the treeline as well as her surroundings.

Dillen shifts back to homid as the wolf approaches. "I have a new Garou in town and wish to take her to the farmhouse. I just want to be sure she is not tainted before doing so. She's a Strider. Figure that is the best place for her." As Jacinta approaches. "Thanks for answering, Jacinta-Rhya. Also congratulations on your rite."

Dagger's-Edge answers the call without one of his own. He appears from a southeasternly direction, ears pushed forward and sniffing the air testingly. Upon establishing visual contact, he greets packmate with a familiar whuff, and the Guardian alpha with a dip of his head lower. There's a curl of his tail, a little more towards between his legs, than he'd ever paid to the Wendigo before. The newcomer is eyed at a distance only.

Noting the white wolf appearing from behind the trees, Gypsy shifts into her darkened wolf form, dipping her head low but remaining in place with her tail lowered as well. Her eyes darts slightly, noting the presence of others as well.

[look Gypsy (homid)]
Standing five foot ten, around 140 lbs, this young woman's build is lean and athletic, yet fully feminine. She appears to be somewhere in her late teens to early twenties. Her thick black hair falls in loose, silky curls to well below her shoulders. Her eyes are a striking shade of green and immediately convey a sense of confidence and quiet amusement. Her complexion is fair and lightly freckled, complementing her fine facial features and high cheekbones. Her ethnicity is questionable, as the subtle shape of her eyes and nose would suggest her to have some Asian mingled in her heritage. She has a distinct attractiveness about her that can't be attributed to any one feature or expression. She carries herself in very much the same manner as how she speaks, with meticulous fluidity.
  She's sporting rather unremarkable cloths, though they happen to be fetching on her. Her black pants sit right at her hips and fall straight from there to her heels allowing them a baggy but not excessive fit. They all but cover her black leather boots, which are well kept and have a thick heel on them that adds further to her height. Her top is a collared button-up a pale shade of rose with half-sleeves. A long, delicate gold chain falls from around her neck, with its unknown pendant dipping out of sight beneath her shirt. Her earlobes are pierced, as well as in three places along the upper cartilage, though she is selective about what she places here and when.

Pierces Ice's chin lifts, eyes rolling and showing white at the Shadow Lord's arrival. Her lip curls slightly for a moment, but she schools the sneer into submission and turns her attention to Dillen and the newcomer, offering her introduction. Pierces the Ice, Fostern Full Moon of the Wendigo. Alpha of Ridgeline, Guardian Pack under Bison. Keeper of the Land. Her right ear twitches as she looks from Dillen to Gypsy, acknowleding his congratulations.

Dillen steps back, raising a brow between the look that moves around from Kenneth and Jacinta. "This is Gypsy, Strider." He lifts a hand to the newcommer.

Dagger's-Edge quivers ever so slightly with the sense of tension radiating between him and the Wendigo, but also keeps to himself. He makes no move to get closer, nor introduce himself in the presence of the newcomer.

Gypsy dips her head again, agreeing with Dillen's introduction of her. As he says. She fixes her gaze on the white wolf's paws, keeping her head low.

Pierces Ice steps closer, nostrils working as she takes in quick breaths. She moves in close, scenting the other in almost invasive ways. Her tail remains high, her demeanor suspicious. The lack of an actual introduction from the new Strider does nothing to aleviate her concern and her shoulders round out. As she comes around to the front of the Philodox once more, she pauses to glance at Kenneth's form before turning to face Gypsy full on. Her eyes half close in concentration.

Christine gives Marcel's last comment an almost bewildered look, as though his outlook were too alien for her to understand. Shrugging again, she walks wordlessly out onto the porch, and then follows him in running lupus to the source of the howl.

Dagger's-Edge holds himself still as a statue, standing off to one side not far from the spot he appeared from. When he is looked at again by the Guardian, he looks back but purposefully avoids a direct contact. Instead, his attention turns to the Strider, his expression evolving into a questioning one.

Gypsy remains still and quiet as she is examined, maintaining her submissive posture as she awaits the verdict. Her eyes dart to Dillen once out of uncertainty, but she returns them quickly to the ground in front of her. She's begining to wonder if something is amiss...

The yellow-green fang buried within the fur at the base of the Wendigo's neck begins to glow. For a moment there is hesitation to the radiance, but then it glows brightly, clearly, and then returns to the dull yellow. The wolf snorts and turns away. She is without manners, but without taint. You may take her to the two-leg den. Pierces the Ice faces the new Strider once again. An honorable Garou makes a proper introduction, she explains with a snarl, then turns her back on them all and stalks back into the trees.

Dillen gives a quiet scratch to the side of his head and sees as Pierces-Ice moves away from them. "I don't think she really knows who or what she is, Jacinta-Rhya." He looks to Gypsy. "Give her time." He looks to Gypsy and then the others that gather. "Farmhouse is near. These are some of my friends." He gestures to the others that have come.

Dagger's-Edge tilts his ears back with a touch of displeasure and sourness, but quickly neutralizes again once the alpha Guardian turns to go. Eventually he slides through forms to his birthform, brushing off the black coat about his shoulders. "It's been awhile since there was a Silent Strider around," he comments roughly, throat adjusting for that one second from lupus to homid tones. "I'm Kenneth, also known as Dagger's-Edge, cliath philodox of the Shadow Lords, packed with Requiem under Fenris." He motions with a nod towards Dillen, as if emphasizing his bond with his packmate.

Marcel has left his fur behind, and walks out of the wood a young man. The low blue branch of a spruce slips over his shoulder, rasping on the fabric of his jersey. He raises a hand in greeting.

[look Marcel (homid)]
It is as though a knight of old has slid the heavy stone lid from his sarcophagus and climbed out for one final adventure. Rather so, for though Marcel of Arthabaska has the striking features of the aristocracy, he lacks that very mortal sort of glow. White as parchment, with dark bruises like great blots of ink. White mouth, white eyes, white hair, almost, at least some color in the long blond cable at his back. He is slender, straight-backed, with quiet strength and a certain grace.
He's in sports sweats, looking like he plays some soccer. Battered shoes on his feet, and one hand bandaged. Some bruises show on his face and neck.

Say-Prayers remains in lupus, but hangs back a bit. Her dropped tail sways slowly behind her. Who is this? she wants to know, flicking her ears towards the Strider.

Gypsy immediately regrets her lack of experience with formalities. Her ears pin back at the snarling she recieves and she watches the white wolf turns and leaves. Noting that everyone else has shifted forms, she does likewise. Glancing from Dillen to Kenneth. She seems to be reassured again, and she nods politely to the title and introduction. "My name is Mia, but I'm called Gypsy. Cliath, Philodox." she adds with slight hesitation. She's well aware that her first impression wasn't exactly worthy of a Cliath. She nods in acknowledgement to Marcel as well.

Dillen lets out a low breath, "Jacinta-rhya is Wendigo. Sometimes a little full of herself." He says with a slight chuckle. "Um, Kenneth, can you help Gypsy get settled in at the farmhouse? I gotta get back to check on Freya." He shoves a thumb in the direction of his motorcycle. "She's got these cravings, peanut butter and anchovies..."

Kenneth glances back to Dillen, eyewidening just a little at the switch off of responsibilities. "Nn... yeah," he replies eventually. Marcel and the wolf behind him are eyed further, but the newcomer doesn't escape his main focus. "We'll go to the farmhouse then. But first," he says, looking to Marcel. "Who're you?"

"We heard the call," Marcel says in approach. "Happily the matter is sorted; she comes to us a friend, my gift says no also." With more words out of his mouth, his accent is more apparent. French. Quebecois to a more discerning ear. "I am Marcel of Arthabaska, a mule, and knife moon cliath of the First Tribe. Where do you come from, daughter of Owl?"

Despite Jacinta's pronouncement, Say-Your-Prayers hasn't yet bothered with an introduction. Her yellow eyes focus inquisitively on the newcomer, while her ears swivel once towards Marcel, before flattening cautiously.

Gypsy shifts her attention to Marcel as he asks about her origins. She smiles slightly. "I come from....Minnesota actually." she answers, if her emphasis on her vowels hadn't betrayed the fact already. "Woebegone." she specifies. "Please excuse my ignorance, I find no bliss in it at all." she appologizes, apparently to all of them. "I've known very few until now."

Kenneth subconsciously tailors his dark gaze upon the metis, as if soaking in the breeding of the Fang. As the question of origin arises, he turns back to the Strider, and gives her another long look. "Come on, then," he says abruptly, a gesture of his hand pointing further west in the direction of the farmhouse.

Marcel stands by, for the others to go on, and he shall follow. He has not come all the way for nothing; he is curious, now, and has been since the great howl. "What brings you?" he asks of her. "Only the road, or is there more? Any news?"

Say-Prayers trots after the trio in lupus, listening.

Gypsy nods to Kenneth, setting off to follow in the direction he's indicated. She glances back at Marcel with equal curiosity at his question. "I bring me...I suppose." she smirks slightly. "Where I've come from...I had no pack. The one who trainned me returned to her pack in Italy, and she would not permit me to go with her. She wanted me to make my own way." she attempts to explain, mildly in tone. "I didn't want...to be alone." she admits finally, with a slight shrug.

Kenneth leads the way, not asking his questions while in company. He asks one question as they follow an animal trail towards the vicinity of the farmhouse. "And maybe you weren't alone. Did you check to see if anyone was following you?"

Say-Prayers halts and looks over her shoulder once, as though the question were directed to her. Then she springs forward to keep pace.

Gypsy casts Kenneth a sidelong glance. "Following me...to St. Claire from Minnesota? No. I don't believe so." she says without absolute certainty. "When one lives out of their car, one tends to become rather...paranoid." she adds quickly in justification. She glances back at the following Lupus and smiles.

Kenneth snorts, not looking back. "I meant on your way in. Don't Striders carry news with 'em? The whole state is full of Wyrm, and this place is the last one around." The Shadow Lord halts briefly, getting his bearings. "The question I'd ask is, 'why here?' You could've at least gone some place with better weather."

That way, says Say-Your-Prayers, the second Kenneth pauses. She canters farther up, so that he can see the angle of the direction she gives.

Gypsy considers the question for a moment before answering in a low tone. "I came here...because my grandfather is here." she says simply. "He disowned my family when I was born, and I came to find him." It may not make fantastic sense, but it's her reasoning none-the-less. "And I knew with a good population density, I could find more Garou."

Kenneth eyes after the Gnawer, lips pulling tight for a split second, and then following after the theurge. "You're lucky you found the ones on the right side," he mutters dourly. "What's your grandfather's name?"

Shortly before the three reach the open fields, Say-Your-Prayers falls back and shifts unceremoniously up to her human form. She's in that same faded Harvard hoodie and battered jeans, but her running shoes are conspicuously absent. Stepping gingerly across the last bed of evergreen needles, she joins Kenneth and Gypsy again, as wordless as ever.

Gypsy scans the fields ahead, trying to gain her barings. "I had been watching people for almost two weeks now. Dillen was not the first I had come across...he was just the first I knew I could trust." she says, decidedly. "My grandfather's name is Rufus Delano." she answers after a brief pause. She glances back at Say-Prayers after she shifts, acknowledging her but not addressing her directly yet.

Kenneth pauses when they've come to the clearing, looking towards Christine, then the farmhouse. "Haven't heard of him," he replies to Gypsy. By a simple glance directed back towards the Gnawer, he keeps his gaze upon the theurge a moment longer before turning back to the newcomer. "This is the farmhouse. These fields, and the house, and the barn over there. No shifting unless it's in the barn out of sight, or a damn good reason like recovering in the infirmary. The rest of the rules, the Garou livin' inside can tell you. Caretaker's name is Kaz-rhya, Bone Gnawer galliard and fostern." There is a certain peculiarity when he adds the honorific to the name, as if he has to get used to it. "If you're looking to stick around, you best get thinking about what you can offer up for chiminage."

Christine smiles very slightly at the hesitance with which Kenneth speaks the honorific. She waits until he is finished listing the rules before she rattles off her own list of sorts: "Christine Say-Your-Prayers, Cliath, Theurge, and Gnawer. Nice to meet you." She looks at Gypsy, and then her eyes go out across the field to the farmhouse.

Gypsy listens intently to Kenneth's words, looking off at the farmhouse. She nods to indicate that she understands, making note of his shift in tone in regards to the caretaker. After a long pause, she glances his way again. "Will medical related services suffice?" she inquires.

Kenneth turns his head, gaze shifting from buildings to Strider. A moment of silence passes, heavy with his silent stare at her. "That's up to the Sept Alpha," he concludes afterwards, turning back to start towards the farmhouse proper. "Doesn't seem like it'll be enough to 'wow' him, though. You're a Garou. You should have /something/ right? Gifts, or maybe you know some rites."

"Wasn't it a Fang who got the farmhouse a new fridge for Chiminage a couple months ago?" asks Christine, with a sidelong look at Kenneth.

Gypsy nods slowly. "Yes, perhaps if one of my gifts is useful to him." she agrees, pensively. "I can usually prove to be useful in one way if not another." she glances back at the comment about the frigde and raises her brows. "I don't have money, if that's what it takes." she adds, tone flattening a bit.

"That Fang," Kenneth clarifies, "is my now-packmate, Nikolai. And he bought more than just the fridge. The larder inventory, the freezer inside, firewood for the winter, pretty much stocked the farmhouse up." He rolls a shoulder in a tight shrug, however. "I don't decide what is acceptable as chiminage. I'm only goin' on what I've heard for contributions made." That seems to be about enough chit-chat for the Shadow Lord, as he brings the group to the back sliding door of the house. "I'm sure you can find yourself a spot to sleep in inside," he says plainly. From the look he gives, it's clear that the Shadow Lord doesn't intend to do any sort of further hospitable service for anyone.

For a second, Christine looks deeply irritated with Kenneth, though that irritation seems to be directed to Gypsy when she says suddenly, "There are sleeping bags in the attic, which you get to through the hallway on the second floor. But nobody will mind if you want to sleep in the barn loft in lupe."

Gypsy inclines her head toward Kenneth at the door of the house, and nods to Christine. "Thank you, for showing me the way here." she offers, simply and appreciatively. She hasn't slept indoors in a while now, and doesn't really hesitate to step inside. She deliberately refrains from saying anything further, not wanting to wear out their patience with her.

Kenneth gives both Garou a curt nod and a "good night" before turning from the pair and heading back the way he came. Further out in the forest, the Shadow Lord resumes his wolf form, and turns south towards pack territory.