1/23/2006

06:05 PM
Logfile from GarouMUSH.

Currently the moon is in the waning Crescent Moon phase (38% full).
It is currently 17:58 Pacific Time on Mon Jan 23 2006.
Currently in Saint Claire, it is clear outside. The temperature is 50 degrees Fahrenheit (10 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from the northwest at 3 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 30.45 and steady, and the relative humidity is 77 percent. The dewpoint is 43 degrees Fahrenheit (6 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:
Vera
Obvious exits:
Highway 22  Overgrown Path  Sunrise Road  Farmhouse  Caern of the Hidden Walk  Creek  Central Bawn  Southern Bawn  Northern Bawn  

Vera is making her way through the woods at a steady and relaxed pace, hands clasped behind her back. She looks neither left nor right, expression of one lost in thought.

A figure clad in black looks likewise to be in the area, headed westwards at a pace that isn't particularly leisurely, but steady and ground covering. That figure is Kenneth, whose outward appearance looks to be a little rougher around the edges today than as usual. The philodox carries with him his tennis racquet holding bag, slung over a shoulder as he travels.

Vera pauses, head tilting to one side, before she turns to face the approaching Philodox. "Evening Kenneth."

Kenneth is eyeing the ground rather than straight ahead as he goes, apparently careful in his footsteps and placement of such. The exercise is broken with words, at which the halfmoon stops entirely and looks up at who addressed him. His demeanor remains neutral, and his voice ever chill. "Good evening, Vera-rhya." It is from a distance that he says it, searching and picking out her form in the growing evening.

"I have completed my scouting of the Blight that failed to be defeated during the Great hunt," Vera continues. "I will be organizing a force to deal with the issue. Would you like to be involved in the assault?"

Kenneth remains paused, and likely poised for something unexpected. "I don't know," he answers with tinges of caution. "What are you planning?"

An eyebrow lifts, as Vera studies the other Shadow Lord. "To kill whatever it is that lurks in the water, of course. Were you involved in the failed Great Hunt?"

"Yes," Kenneth answers, quick on that one reply. "I mean, who -else- is going?" The question rolls out, not all unlike one asking another about a social bash with a keg involved. "And if you asked Brom, then he's probably told you the answer of whether I'm goin'."

"Anyone who wishes to come, may," Vera replies simply. "Who decides to answer the call is yet to be seen. As such, I do not know who will be coming at this time."

Kenneth shrugs his un-bagburdened shoulder. "You'll have to be more specific with this bag of Garou," he comments with a deliberate edge. "But if you've asked Requiem, then you have our answer. Fenris requires we don't turn down a challenge, and all." He starts to move again, but this time with a clear rounding out of his path from the ragabash.

Vera frowns. "I see. Hold a moment. Please explain to me why it is important to know which Garou will be involved. I fail to understand how the Garou involved would be a relevant issue, unless there is some blood feud that I am unaware of?"

Kenneth pauses again, and then finally slides the bag around his shoulder down to the forest floor. "It's not a blood feud," he replies. "It's your strategies. How the hell are you going to plan an attack if you don't know what strengths and weaknesses you got going for you in the first place? We don't just coordinate on the fly. It leads to stupid plans, like the very Great Hunt you're planning on redoing."

Vera smirks. "I already have my plans, Kenneth. I need only enough Garou to makes those plans a reality. There are, admittedly, some with specific skills that I require, but I am already in the process of contacting those in question."

"Well then -I'd- like to know what we're getting ourselves into," Kenneth replies deadpan and humorlessly.

Vera shrugs easily. "Far as I can gather, there is either a materialized Bane, or a Fomor that has decided to call an inlet at the side of the river home. The inlet collects human filth, causing the water to be highly polluted. The target is in approximately ten feet of water according to Brom, but that is hearsay as I was unable to determine an accurate depth. The creature will pull down anything on the water's surface and drowns any that venture to close. It also possess a siren call, to draw in more victims, although I believe it would only affect the weak willed. I intend to, if at all possible, pull the target from its watery home and onto land were it can be dealt with more easily. Failing that, I have some requests for the Theurge here. To enlist the help of fish spirits if there is a need to spend time underwater, and electricity spirits to damage the beast if it cannot be removed from the water."

A sarcastic half-smile appears on Vera's face, as she stops speaking for a moment. "Is that sufficient?"

Kenneth narrows his eyes at the ragabash. Her sarcasm isn't lost on him. "Whatever you say, Vera-rhya," he levels back quietly with nothing more. The halfmoon doesn't move again, though, waiting on the other's end of conversation.

Vera flicks her wrist in a dismissive manner in Kenneth's direction. "Gaia watch. Oh, and give Brom my thanks for the idea of harnessing the power of an electricity spirit. If he has not spoken to a Theurge about the idea as of yet, I will be doing so shortly."

Kenneth suddenly doesn't seem as eager to depart. "And the explosives that were gotten? What about those?" The philodox stands where he is still, bag leaning against his leg.

"I have no use for explosives," Vera states flatly. "They are of the Weaver, dishonorable, dangerous, and far too loud. While this place is a reasonable distance from any human home, explosions would still make enough noise to attract unwanted attention. There is no reason to use them, if spirits can be enlisted to serve the same purpose, without the danger or the noise."

Shrugging, Kenneth nods in agreement with at least part of what is said. "Doesn't deny that it could help, though. But if you've got a fishing rod big enough to land that Wyrmfish, then more power to you." The halfmoon considers something, before diverging from the topic. "Sabina tell you about the cub?"

Vera shrugs her shoulders. "It is my understanding that Touch Deer requested that Dwight procure the explosives. If he wants them to be used as a last resort, that is his decision." The woman chuckles softly. "No, I do not have a large enough hook as of yet, but that will be rectified shortly. I have not spoken to Sabina recently. What is this about a cub?"

Kenneth slips a hand down into his coat pocket, fishing around until he finds a slip of folded receipt paper. It looks like a receipt. This he offers out. "The cub's address. I went back after and jotted down the place, just to be sure. There was a fetch. Homid, ragabash. Called Sabina 'cause she's the only one with a phone," he relates gruffly. "So far's I know, the parents don't know where she is, and I don't think they're kin. We brought her to the farmhouse, and I left after. I guess Sabina might've taken her somewhere safer and undisturbed."

Vera reaches out a hand and accepts the piece of paper and after looking at what is written on it, slips it into her jacket pocket. "I will have to ask her about the cub. Thankyou for the information."

"Welcome," Kenneth utters lowly, eyes kept off when Vera nears and takes the paper. "I have few things to ask you," he says, once she's put the paper away.

"Of course, feel free," Vera says, pose relaxed and one hand remaining in her jacket pocket.

Kenneth rubs a finger along the strap of his bag, looking to it before beginning. "Why'd you come to the Hidden Walk?" He looks up afterwards, watching the adren.

Vera lifts and lowers her shoulders in a simple shrug, expression neutral. "There was no reason for me to remain in Steel Angel, or any bonds to hold me there. As I have done many times before, I left and headed north. I stopped here, because I chose too."

"You're an adren. You have power," Kenneth remarks. "I don't see why you'd ditch the place you got rank and rep in." He considers her, observing but not critically.

A faint half-smile touches the woman's lips, before she lightly shakes her head. "I Gained the Rank of Adren in Steel Angel, but it is not the only place were I have made a name for myself. I became a Fostern in the Amazon and have visited most Septs along the West coast, if only in passing. Most Galliards on the West Coast know my name and speak of my deeds. Leaving Steel Angel does not lessen any power my Rank grants me and as I said previously, there is nothing that binds me to my old Sept."

"Why not?" Kenneth continues looking in the other's direction, though he distinctly never directly meets eyes more than a few moments. "Didn't have a pack out there or anything?"

Vera's lips press together for a moment, the lines around her mouth becoming more prominent. "I have a few old friends that I keep in touch with, but I left no Pack behind me."

Kenneth narrows the edges of his eyes again, though not as much as before. "Then. You've seen the Shadow Lords out here." There's a long, significant pause. "What do you think?"

Vera crosses her arms, leaning back a little as she inspects Kenneth for a sort time. "Little at the moment, but I yet to gather you all in one place for a Moot. That will have to wait until after the Blight is dealt with. I will admit to a certain amount of disappointment when it comes to some things that have occurred."

"Such as?" The Philodox waits, patient but coiled.

As before, the Ragabash lifts her shoulders in a shrug. "Being referred to as a trumped up newcomer who had yet to prove herself, insecure, a fool, an idiot, and the implication that my Rank was all but worthless. Then having the one who laid these insults at my feet, express /pride/ in still being a Cliath while older then I am. And being told to be silent and listen, as I was the younger Garou in the conversation and that age counts for something."

"Welcome to the Hidden Walk," Kenneth responds dourly. "Though I won't lie to you - the last elder that treated his underlings like expendable, worthless lowlifes and flaunted his rank in their faces, ended up dead by their claws. And they don't regret it." The halfmoon stands just that much stiffer with the anecdote, now that he's said it aloud.

"Then he was an idiot and did not deserve his Rank in the first place," Vera responds bluntly. "But, the Litany states Submission to those Higher in Station for a reason. Just as it says to respect those beneath you. One does not come without the other."

"Fortunate for the elders, that the one that comes first is the one that matters to them the most, isn't it," Kenneth observes lowly. "Anyway. If that's the case, then I'm guessin' you're gunning for a position here."

An eyebrow lifts as Vera studies the other Shadow Lord for a moment. "I would be a poor example of an Adren and a Daughter of Thunder if I was not."

Kenneth looks back underneath that scrutiny, though as the sky continues to darken and turn to night, the philodox's posture reads less and less clear. Though he says nothing, there is a sort of enigmatic, secretive question mark waiting in the wings, remaining hidden in the folds of silence. It's like waiting for the trigger to be pulled, but not knowing if the hammer is cocked. Then the Philodox moves, turning back to pick up his bag. "If there's nothing else, then I'm going to get some laundry done."

Vera nods, an easy smile sliding into place. "As you wish. May Thunder lend you his guidance."

Kenneth lifts bag to shoulder, then nods to the adren before turning to continue on his path farmhousewards.