3/2/2006

09:53 PM
Logfile from GarouMUSH.

Currently the moon is in the waxing Crescent Moon phase (20% full).
It is currently 21:45 Pacific Time on Thu Mar 2 2006.
Currently in Saint Claire, it is clear outside. The temperature is 33 degrees Fahrenheit (0 degrees Celsius). The wind is calm today. The barometric pressure reading is 29.94 and steady, and the relative humidity is 92 percent. The dewpoint is 31 degrees Fahrenheit (0 degrees Celsius.)

[In SCCU's Music Hall, in one of the back rooms. The same room as in this log.]

It's somewhere in the university's piano room that Kenneth finds himself leaning against the cool, somewhat dusty covers of the grand piano buried inside. The door is locked, and the light shut off as the philodox enjoys a moment's peace in the darkness. His breathing steadies under the lack of stimuli, and inevitably his eyes close for short period.

The beating of a drum breaks through the haze of sleep, and when the Shadow Lord opens his eyes, he sees not the clutter of instruments, but a wide Indigo lake by which he sits. The water is calm, reflecting a clear sky and the trees that line its edge. Behind the Philodox, the drum beat continues, steady in its native rhythm.

Kenneth isn't quite ready to wake, it seems. At least, his mind refuses the acknowledge the drums until it's just annoying him. And when he 'wakes', it is with no small amount of surprise in his widened eyes. That expression doesn't last long. "The hell..." he starts to say, voicing internal thoughts once he realizes he's alone - or at least, so far. The broad lake is eyed over. Then the terrain. Then, turning towards the drumming sound, he listens awhile before slowly following the noise. He walks cautiously, eyes scanning, only his right hand stuck into a pant pocket. And he tries to remember what he was last doing.

Following the drum beat, the Shadow Lord walks deeper into a forest, which soon hides any sight of the lake behind him. It's a forest at the beginnings of spring; trees regrowing their leaves and flowers being coaxed into bloom. The beating seems neither to grow dimmer nor louder as he walks, remaining as consistent in volume as it is in pace.

Kenneth subconsciously ends up following the beat of the drum with the pace of his footsteps. Though unaware, he remains quiet. He doesn't stop to look at the trees or the flowers, though he does ask the question to himself, "Where am I?" It is asked in a self-doubting manner. For a moment, he reaches over to his arm and pinches his skin hard.

Just as Kenneth pinches his arm, he steps into a small clearing, a break in the otherwise dense forest. It's merely a small patch of grass, hardly even something that could be called a meadow. Straight ahead, grazing and unaware of the Shadow Lord's presence, is a large brown buffalo.

Kenneth doesn't let go of his arm until his eyes want to water with pain. He stops just short. "Damn." The buffalo distracts his elsewhere attentions, particularly at the change of scenery as well. Without much cover, the Shadow Lord takes a step back. His eyes narrow, staring at the big brown beast.

When Kenneth steps back, a twig snaps, exactly between two beats. The buffalo raises his head and turns it to face the Shadow Lord, meeting his gaze. The drum beats cease, leaving the two in silence. The beast chews thoughtfully as it regards him, then snorts out a breath before looking pointedly behind the boy.

Kenneth curls his lip at the snap of the twig, deriding himself. "Way to be stealthy," he mutters, looking down briefly at the twig as if to blame it, and then back up to the buffalo. Now that he's noticed, and it has noticed him, the halfmoon stares right back half-expecting the charge. But when it doesn't come, he takes another step back. Eyes don't leave the bigger, heavier, horned beast. Not until he judges it to be safe, and turns around as well to start walking back the way he came.

The buffalo continues to watch the Shadow Lord, unmoving, until trees block him from sight. Kenneth is once more surrounded by spring awakened woods. That is, until he turns around. At his feet appears to be the beginnings of a well traveled road, and just ahead it branches into three directions. To his right is a paved street, not unlike one you would find in a small town. The sunlight seems brighter down that road, and waves of heat rise off of the blacktop. To the left is a dark, narrow path. Despite its small size and uninviting look, it seems well traveled. Trees there are close together and leafless. A chill breeze from that direction brushes past the Shadow Lord. Straight ahead is a wide, dirt road, leading through a lush forest, deep in the season of spring.

Kenneth once more, narrows his eyes. The Shadow Lord does cast a glance behind him, as if to look for the buffalo again, but it isn't a long or searching glance. When he turns to the roads again, he takes his time in examining each one. "This looks familiar," he mutters again, something of a lie. Various thoughts come to mind. Robert Frost's poem. A Psalm about walking through the valley of the shadow of death. He looks down the right side road, then the left, then down the middle. "God, I must be dreaming." He stands there, caught in a moment's indecision. Then finally, he sticks out a foot and tests the road before him. The middle one.

As soon as Kenneth takes a step down the middle, the entrances to the other two paths disappear. There is, however, an awareness of them that remains. A sort of residual chill to his left and a warmth to his right. The path he is on is rather pleasant. Butterflies flit from one blossom to the next, birds chirp happily overhead, and the road appears to be smooth, not a single sharp stone.

Kenneth smiles to himself under a pretense of temporary victory. Thought as much. He starts to walk down the middle road, but a part of him leans to the left. Everything around him is regarded with a skeptical eye, though. Not even the butterflies escape the Shadow Lord's dark eyed gaze. Once more, his hands slip into his pockets as he walks. Strolls, rather. At least he doesn't look back.

Perhaps he was right to be skeptical. It is not long before he comes to a left curve in the road, and once he's rounded that, the path ends abruptly, leaving the Shadow Lord in the midst of a forest once again, with neither road nor drum beat to offer guidance. In fact, the woods are quieter now. No, not quiet. Silent. The butterflies and birds of before are gone.

Kenneth slows his pace even further when the sunshine and birds are gone. Perhaps he's grown tired of this dream, as he takes a deep breath at the end of the road and looks around. "Alright, I'm done. Wake up," he says aloud, to himself.

"Up...up...up..." Kenneth's voice echoes, bouncing back and forth amongst the trees. The leaves sway silently in an unfelt breeze, and a soft, feminine echo answers from the right, "This way, this way... way..." It repeats, softer and softer until the forest once more lapses into silence, only to be broken a moment later with another. "Far, far, far... Cry... cry..."

Kenneth's eyebrows draw down. That was not what he had been expecting. "You gotta be kidding me," he says more quietly, looking at his arm again. His fingers twitch, contemplating another pinch. But then he shakes his head and looks towards his right again, breathing in and out deeply. Slowly, he takes a few steps towards the voice. Then a few more steps. And finally, he's walking towards it. Then he's running towards it. It's a dead out sprint, but a loping, jogging pace soon settles into his gait.

His voice once more echoes, although much softer than before and muffled. Once he starts running toward the voice, the drums once more begin to beat, this time in rhythm with Kenneth's steps, growing faster as he does, growing louder with a sense of urgency. The forest grows darker, trees pressing closer and closer, blocking out the sun. Thin branches reach across the Shadow Lord's path, scratching against his arms and face.

Kenneth pushes past the branches, arms naturally guarding the worst of the scratches. 'Xia'd kill me if I ruin this set too,' crosses his mind for that flash of a moment, before he remembers just where he is. Kind of. Trying to ignore the drum's call, he squints his eyes and keeps running, arms coming up occassionally to block a sharp branch. Somewhere along the line, he loses a sense of why he's running. He just does, like his body functions on autopilot. Ever on towards where he thought he heard the voice calling his other name.

On and on he runs with the drum keeping his beat, until finally, with one last push through some particularly stubborn branches, he bursts out of the forest and into a meadow. The drum beat halts after a final, powerful note. Stretched out before the Shadow Lord, almost as far as he can see, is a field of nothing but flowers. Flowers of all sizes and colors, tended to by butterflies with silver and gold tipped wings. Off in the distance, hidden up to her waist by the tall stalks around her, is a familiar figure, apparently gathering up a bouquet.

Kenneth stumbles at the final note, nearly falling face first into the field of flowers. "Sh--..." He catches himself just in time, balancing out well given his forward inertia. This new sight is reason to pause. Flowers, flowers everywhere, and not a thorn to prick. It's a second after he spots the figure that he calls out, "Hey!" He squints, looking from afar at the figure, trying to pinpoint who it would be.

The girl turns to face him and lifts an arm to wave. "Far, far... Cry..." comes the echo. "This way, way... They are waiting... waiting..." She laughs and then turns away, dropping the bouquet as she starts to run.

Kenneth lifts a scratched hand over his eyes to shield from the sun. "Stacey?" he queries in that way of normal volumes, but nevertheless directed at the figure. Shaking his head, he starts after her, but not exactly running. The Shadow Lord heads for the dropped bouquet, looking down at where he thinks it was, before looking up after the girl.

"Hurry...Hurry!" calls the echo as the girl turns back around, laughing as she gestures for him to follow. The bouquet is still on the ground when Kenneth reaches that spot. Wrapped around the stems of the gathered flowers is a leather string with a dove pendant attached to it. The girl waves again and then resumes her lead.

Kenneth looks down at the dove pendant, and stoops to untie it from the bouquet. Sticking this into his pocket, he clears his throat like he had done something embarrassing, but brushes it off and starts to jog after the girl. "Hey, hold up! Wait a sec!" His pace quickens a bit in eagerness to catch up.

The girl finally does stop just before a row of giant sunflowers. She turns back to face the Shadow Lord, smiling serenely as her light brown curls toss in the cool breeze. "This way..." And she slips between the large stems and out of view.

Kenneth breathes out. "Jesus. What's all this leading to?" he wonders, before slowing at the sunflowers. "Can't believe I'm dreaming about Stacey," he adds as an afterthought to his monologue, pushing on. The sunflowers are tall, no doubt obscuring his view of the girl as he tracks her.

The Philodox faces an abrupt scene change when he passes through the wall of sunflowers. It is a dark night, with clouds rolling and threatening to block the light of a full moon. Tall, proud trees line a circular, obviously constructed clearing. Thick logs have been positioned around a fire, which crackles and dances at the center. A guitar leans up against one of the trees. Cups and dishes are set near the logs, almost as if people had just been there using them. There are footprints leading from most of the logs off into the woods behind the scene, except from two, which are blood-stained. A grey wolf with white markings and a scar across her abdomen circles the area, letting out yips of loss and pain.

Kenneth stops short again, blinking with the change of light, change of scenery, change of everything. "The hell?" he asks aloud again, eyeing around. His gaze focuses down onto the wolf, and his brow furrows. Eventually he gets the notion to step forward, closer towards the light of the fire and the wolf. His pace is slowed now. "Stace?"

The gray wolf turns to look up at Kenneth, letting out a pitiful whine. Gone! Gone! All are gone! Lost! She whines again and runs in a quick, confused circle. Lost!

Kenneth doesn't get too close. "Who's lost?" he asks the wolf, tracking with his eyes before scanning around at the left cups and dishes, at the guitar. At the footprints. It stops on the bloodstained prints, to which he goes over and examines them.

The first set is larger, about the size usual for a teenager, while the second is much smaller, childlike. Everyone, whines the wolf. Lost! Everyone has gone. Me. She meets Kenneth's gaze with a despairing look. You.

Kenneth looks from the prints when the wolf catches his eyes. He doesn't look away, but there's a neutral sort of coldness that looks back at the lupine. "What?" he asks, a bit suspicious and cautious.

The wolf flattens her ears and backs away, although she doesn't break eye contact. Watch out! she barks, gaze warily on the Philodox as she moves. Let go!

Kenneth blinks a few times, with the warning causing his invisible hackles to stiffen up. There's nevertheless a confused look on his face. "Huh? Let go of what?" He is the one to break eye contact, checking where his hands are quickly. Then looks back to the wolf. "What're you talkin' about?"

The sounds of screeching and flapping of wings comes from the trees, and a moment later thousands of black bats swarm out of the woods and toward the Philodox, surrounding him in their frenzied flight.

'Gah!' is the first sound that cries out from the halfmoon as he is assaulted. He stumbles back, swiping his hands out like in classic 'They're in my hair!' fashion, flailing at first, and then more of a guarded and controlled counterattack. Then... oh yes, now he remembers. The Shadow Lord shifts into his form of war, and turns his claws and teeth against the flying rodents. Every strike is made out of indignance. How dare they? And what the hell is going on with the bats? Ears lay back as his fur bristles out like a bottlebrush from head to toe, the halfmoon snapping and clawing at any and every target.

Many of the bats are felled as the Shadow Lord strikes at them, but no matter how many he takes down, several more crowd in. As the Philodox fights and stumbles, the ground underneath him gives way, crumbling apart to reveal a thick, black hole. He starts to fall.

A yelp of surprise pushes out of the halfmoon when he tumbles back, and then it's back to flailing. Or, at the very least, trying to find a way to stop. Or a way that his body might sense as 'up'. Any other bats he can take down with him, he tries to, but he's reaching out for some sense now.

A hand does reach out toward the Shadow Lord as he falls, but before he can decide whether to reach for it or not, he jerks awake. He is sitting at the piano in the quiet music room, and as far as he can tell, not much time has passed.

Wincing as he smacks his foot against the leg of the piano chair, Kenneth is made just that much more awake by the sharp throb of pain that lances up his shin. Bending down to rub at his leg, he checks himself over groggily, righting his world with directions again. This side up. Slowly, he pushes himself up from the chair, looking around the very real and familiar music room, and then rubs at his face a few times. A brief thought after, he looks and feels to make sure he wasn't actually drooling or anything either, and then clears his throat. The Shadow Lord exits the piano room, shutting the door behind him and heading out towards the campus proper again.