9/8/2006

06:15 PM
Logfile from GarouMUSH.

Currently the moon is in the waning Full Moon phase (94% full).
It is currently 18:01 Pacific Time on Fri Sep 8 2006.
Currently in Saint Claire, it is mostly sunny today. The temperature is 74 degrees Fahrenheit (23 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from variable directions at 6 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 29.80 and steady, and the relative humidity is 46 percent. The dewpoint is 52 degrees Fahrenheit (11 degrees Celsius.)

Center of the Caern
This is the central point of the 30-meter-wide clearing. The ground is a mixture of dark, rich, muddy soil mixed with clay, though there is an occasional patch of grass. At the center rests a large white boulder, immovable even by the strongest crinos. The boulder is shot through with streaks of quartz that produces scintillating colors when light strikes it just right. It is, for lack of a wholly adequate word, beautiful.
Around you, twenty yards in every direction, stretches the caern. To the southeast, a waterfall plummets over the edge of the chasm into a small pool in the caern; nearby, to the southwest, steam comes from cracks in the ground, perhaps some of the same water. Northwest, a rocky spar juts out of the ground at a low angle, showing a sloping but smooth top. The chasm walls narrow a bit to the northeast, causing some of the mist to swirl in that area.
Contents:
Vera (Culls-the-Herd), Jacinta (Pierces Ice), Circle Keeper (Ciuraq), Yi (Runner), Ethan (Voice of the Unspoken), Horace (Untangler), Reggie (Rags), Blackriver (Katya), Kenneth (Far-Cry), Abraxas (Bitter-Harvest), Tu (Spies-the-Wyrm), Grey, Emma (Stone-Spirit), Dillen (Bloods-Bane), Morgan (Song-of-Luna), Stacey (Walks-Middle), Olga (Fat-Ripper), Fred
Obvious exits:
Rock Slab  Windy Spot  WaterFall  Steam Vents  

Untangler is early for once. He slips down through the windy eastern passages, his pawsteps slow and unerring despite his odd weaving gait. He greets Reggie with a mild whine, and then he begins the process of circling the wide clay field, looking for a spot while the getting is still good, claiming one with awkward stomps and finally a sighing collapse of fur and fat.

By the steam vents, With an explosive hiss, a blast of superheated steam tumbles aside a few rocks and billows into the air. Where it meets the cooler mist to the northeast, masses of fog expand outwards into the Caern before they dissipate slowly into the air.

Tu makes his way to the center of the Caern. He keeps away from the others gathered, however, his mind seemingly elsewhere at the moment.

To say that a certain six-limbed metis is nervous is like saying the ocean is a bit damp. Song-of-Luna pads into the Caern with the air of someone about to attend their own execution. Her tail is low, if not quite tucked, her limbs are a little wobbly, and her ears are plastered to the back of her head. In her mouth, she's carrying an odd stick that has been sanded, polished, and covered in carved runes of all sorts: death, life, tribes, auspices, breeds, and everything inbetween.

Grey prowls his way into the caern on two legs, looking as thunderous as the patron spirit of his former tribe. The Glass Walker's hair's been growing back with a good deal more grey than it had before; the weeks of beard-growth on his face is even more grizzled. After a brief glance 'round, he makes his way over toward Tu, greeting his tribal elder with a grunt and a slight nod.

Song-of-Luna is covered in some sort of blue marks...close examination would reveal they are various stick figures and shapeless swirls.

Tu glances up from his ruminations, and returns the nod. "You've recovered well", he says to the other Walker.

Reggie's passages about the caern are curtailed as people take up positions, and he moves in towards the center. Untangler earns a curt nod from him before Reggie turns to study and count the runes on Song of Luna's stick.

Bitter-Harvest arrives, already in crinos. As seems to have become custom for him, he finds a spot that is as far from the others as he can get while still being technically in the Caern, and within easy hearing distance, where he settles without looking at anyone.

Stacey wander down into the center of the Caern as most begin to arrive, nodding and smiling to those gathered, but mostly keeping to herself. Quiet, thoughtful.

Grey, in answer to Tu, rubs a hand over his extra-short hair and nods unsmilingly. "No scars, amazingly."

Song-of-Luna continues to pad forward--slink more like--until she's in the appropriate spot. Then, without preamble, she slides into crinos and spits the stick into one of her lower, clawless hands.

Blackriver and Dillen come down the valley from the southern part of the bawn, both in their birthforms. Dillen is chatting idly with Blackriver, a grin on his face, and Blackriver's looking back at him somewhat blankly. The two take a seat near the a small patch of grass, watching the others arrive.

Song-of-Luna howls long and loud.

From Center of the Caern, Song-of-Luna can be heard to howl, ~Hidden Walk, it is time to Moot! Come and sing to Gaia and the Lady of Mirrors!~

Striding in from the south east, Kenneth carries with him the long leg bone of a deer to be used for the moot. The Shadow Lord holds it with care as he shifts forms at the center. Clothes disappear, black fur replacing them. His eyes and ears scan over the growing crowd, pausing upon the newly arrived and lingering just slightly longer on his sulky metis tribemate before turning his attentions to Song-of-Luna's howl.

And out of the west, Yi comes in at a steady pace. The Gnawer pauses to rub away her leg's soreness, at the same time peering about at the others. She makes no verbalized greetings, choosing to settle at a spot a little close to the edge of the waterfall's lake.

Tu nods and gives a slight smile. "How can you tell?" When the caller howls he quickly adds, "Excuse me", and makes his way to his appropriate spot, shifting to crinos as he goes.

A duo of Get arrive from the direction of the farmhouse; Ethan and Emma moving steadily and with quiet purpose. Their moods are tense and serious. Once they near the gathered, Emma moves to find the rest of her pack and aims in that direction. Ethan is given a look of indifference with a shoulder shrug, a bland invite that he can join them.

Grey shoots a sour look at Tu's back and doesn't answer. Instead, he waves over toward Emma.

Culls-The-Herd makes her appearance in crinos, necklace of vampire teeth clicking together dully as she makes her way toward the center.

Jacinta makes her way down into the caern, seeking out her packmates and heading in their direction.

Song-of-Luna seems slightly emboldened, slightly, by the fact that she hasn't dropped dead from her initial howl. Her clawless fingers grip the glyph covered stick tightly as she straightens, takes a deep, slightly panting breath, and calls simply, ~It is time to sing to Gaia and tell her we are here.~ Her muzzle points upward, and she starts into a long, somewhat rough howl, slightly quiet at first but swiftly growing louder and stronger.

Ethan seems a little ill at ease, not doubt the result of the unfamiliar surroundings and the normal tension of a full moon gathering of a horde of garou. Having nowhere better to stand, he follows along after Emma, though he stops short of actually penetrating the intangible perimeter of the pack. He remains at least that aloof while settling in to watch how the Hidden Walk handles a moot.

Olga's a little tardy today: she comes in like an overburdened pack mule on the last legs of its journey, rid of its master so it can set its own work-shirking pace. She's slow, she's sweaty, and despite the summer evenining cool she's obviously hot. Over one shoulder's slung her familiar greasy orange bag and over the other a smaller grocery bag which she holds at an awkward distance. As the howl begins she hurries her heavy steps but still falls late and embarassed at the edge of the Caern. She smells of rot and grease, city filth and decaying human flesh, and as she drops her bags the smell spills out over the hard pristine clay.

Stacey spots Jacinta and makes her way over to her before pushing up into Crinos and tilts back her head, joining in the howl, adding her young, but strong voice to its call.

Bitter-Harvest doesn't look at Dagger's-Edge; hardly surprising, as he seems to be determined not to actually make eye contact with anyone tonight. He joins the howl, however, his tone harsh and angry.

Reggie pushes his bulk through the increasing crowd, greeting Emma cheerily and Ethan with a brief stare and nod, then moves past them to investigate what's Olga's brought. He stops short, nose wrinkling at the smell of rotten flesh, then makes himself greet Olga before joining in on the howl.

Emma moves over to Grey nodding lightly and taking a quiet place beside her packmate. Arms fold over her chest and a deep breath is taken as she waits for the moot to begin.

Far-Cry lifts his muzzle skyward as Song-of-Luna's howl rises in volume, letting the sound carry out before he joins in. His voice rings out deeply, undertoned with a certain tension brought on by the moon's fullness.

Yi looks up as Olga enters the caern, looking, for a moment, worried at the theurge. But then she moves to join her, offering a warming but faint smile as the howls go up.

Spies-the-Wyrm lifts his muzzle, and adds his voice to the caller's. His howl is loud, and the tone is steady and clear.

Blackriver looks with a bit of disapproval at Far-Cry, but draws herself up into crinos to let out a loud howl. Dillen follows suite, adding his voice to the chorus.

Untangler lifts a tremulous young howl slowly into the maelstrom of other noises, gently, almost lazily.

Culls-The-Herd lifts her muzzle toward the sky, howl erupting from her throat.

Grey rolls his shoulders, then boils up into the war form to join in with the howl -- dutifully at first and then with rising fury as the bloated moon carries him along.

Fred makes his way into the Caern, huffing and puffing as he goes. Reaching the edge of the gathering, he pauses to catch his breath.

Circle Keeper, in lupus, can be scrambling along the north rim of the Caern quickly, apparently hurried along by the sounds of the moot's start. The wolf isn't painted up in his usual `sunday-finest,` either.

Song-of-Luna traces the blue, triangular eared stick figure just to one side of her right shoulder with a claw still stained with that same blue, and her own ears push forward. Her fur is standing all on end. ~Garou shall not mate with Garou!~

Spies-the-Wyrm lifts his muzzle to the air and gives a short howl, the tone light and airy, almost like a laugh. ~So speaks the metis caller.~ He stares at the metis for a few moments before continuing, then gives a derisive snort. ~Why pretend this law serves a purpose anymore. metis are no longer scorned... ~, his claw flies up and points at the caller, ~ ...in fact, they are given roles of /honor/ within this Sept." He walks, slowly towards Morgan as he continues to speak, speaking to the crowd but focusing his gaze on her. ~And, even if they /were/ still treated as an affront to the mother, we live in a time where such unwanted offspring can be easily prevented.~ Having reached the caller, he runs his claws, lightly, tenderly, across her muzzle. When he speaks again, his tone is breathless and raw ~This is the way of things. Why do we fight what comes to us naturally? We are creatures of passion, as well as rage, and only our own kind truly understands us. Why not give in to that fact? ~

Blackriver lets out a snarl, fur standing up on end. ~Maybe those who have forgotten the traditions treat metis as equals, but we know that their position is the lowest. We /cannot/ mate with Garou, if we do we forget that we need them both - human and wolf. We forget what we are.~

Culls-The-Herd barks out a laugh. ~What would you do, go to a /human/ doctor to have to child removed from its mother's womb? Foolishness!~

The look that crosses Song-of-Luna's muzzle is nothing short of horror as Spies-the-Wyrm approaches, but this is short lasting indeed. As he actually /touches/ her, the metis releases a startled, /furious/ snarl that cuts into his last words, eyes flashing, teeth baring, and all four arms reaching violently toward the Walker and only just, just stopping themselves from with a rather abrupt jerk. Her wordless, vicious growl is punctuated by a thin layer of froth around her teeth.

Far-Cry misses the scornful eye from Blackriver, his attentions paid to the Calling. At the Fool's retort, the philodox manages to avoid bristling. ~Take your rage towards your enemies, and your passion towards your kin. Not, your kind.~

Circle Keeper finally skitters down the trail to the bottom, huffing, panting, and clearly out of breath. He boils up to crinos, pausing long enough to snarl an ever coherent ~No metis!~ at the fool, before leaning heavily on his weapon to catch his breath.

Rags snarls, ~If we stop mating with human and wolf, we will have no children who will have children. We would come to an end! Shortsightedness!~

Grey, with the glyphs of 'charach' and 'dishonor' visible on his furry forearms, says absolutely nothing, only bares his teeth in a stubborn, defiant manner.

Olga is indignant, though there's a deeper and dirtier sadness undercutting the anger. She rises from her position in rags and weight and her bulk carries her into Glabro as she does; a whiny high-strung stretched out voice bellows out ~Because there's a kid locked in a porn theatre who's hardly never seen a human being or even a proper sunrise, that's why, you bloody idiot!~

Song-of-Luna pants heavily, hands clenching and unclenching. Her eyes gradually seem to regain their focus, but there's nothing at all that suggests she's really calmed down at all--only regained control, however thin that might be. ~GAROU SHALL NOT MATE WITH GAROU!~ she roars at the Walker, as if this in itself were both the rule and the argument.

Yi curls up a hand into a fist as the barks and curses directed toward the Fool begin. She, however, keeps silent and only listens. Olga's response earns her another glance - one with a bit of a pained look hidden inside.

Spies-the-Wyrm pulls his hand back from the caller, as if she had suddenly grown red hot. He holds his place for a second, then turns and starts to move back to his original spot. As he moves he sneaks a quick glance in Grey's direction.

Walks-Middle growls, crossing her arms, but doesn't add anything to the calls, instead watching the interaction between the Caller and Fool cautiously.

Grey meets Spies' glance with a molten glower.

The Fool's retreat from her immediate space seems to help at least a little. Song-of-Luna continues down the Litany until she releases one last, heavy breath, and then points the glyph covered stick at Spies-the-Wyrm like a scepter. ~First share of the kill to the Greatest in Station!~

Ethan takes in the shouting crowd, the caller, and especially the fool. The visiting Get ragabash seems to evaluating his counterpart. Thus, he's slow to actually participate. Eventually, however, he drifts upward into crinos and, with a little amused smirk that bares sharp yellowed teeth, adds his own shouts of derision for the fools act.

Spies-the-Wyrm reaches his spot, and then leans in towards those gathered, as if sharing a secret ~Do you want to know why this is still a law? Because those Athros and Elders who decide such things", he lifts his claw, and points accusingly towards Culls-The-Herd, ~They were forced to share when /they/ were low on food chain, and now it's their turn to do the same! They sneak in to take what wasn't rightfully earned.~ As he says this, he shifts from pointing at Vera, to plucking some invisible prize from the air in front of him. ~Think about it. They already have gifts and fetishes' and experience which makes it /easier/ for them to bring down their prey. /They/ should be sharing with those below, not the other way around.~

Blackriver growls. ~Do you know why this is still a law? Because some Garou do not forget that they are part wolf. Because some Garou have the wisdom to know that the elders can use their gifts better. Because some Garou have respect.~ Man, she's really into it tonight, fur bristling.

Stone-Spirit stands tensely, keeping her voice quiet as the fool makes each call.

Circle Keeper continues to pant, scaning about the gathered. The Fool's responce gets his full attention this time, the Ahroun mannaging enough braincells to concoct a reply. ~The greatest in station can use the kill better than stupid cliath.~ He growls back. That out of the way, he starts to move towards Jacinta.

Culls-The-Herd snorts. ~I have earned by gifts! And please, if I have any Fetishes, would you mind telling me where they are? As I seem to have misplaced them.~

Olga comes down with a gruff bump and a heavy, still dimly disgusted. Her lips are a fat grim line but they're hard and silent: she's not touching this one with a ten foot pole.

Far-Cry stares at Spies with an expression that seems to echo the sentiment, but then shakes his head and glances towards Vera when the adren replies. The halfmoon glances between the two, and keeps quiet on this one.

Rags growls at the Fool, ~Hide your kill from the elders and they will have it out of your hide, share your kill and they will spare your hide!~

Song-of-Luna is getting into the rhythm now, it's clear. They pass through Not eating the flesh of humans, call and retort. She rocks back and forth on her heels for a moment, traces one of the blue squiggles on her fur this time, and again points the stick at Spies-the-Wyrm. ~Respect those below in station, all are of Gaia!~

Untangler makes his plodding disagreements with slow whines and yammers: elder knows best, the wolf whines out, slowly turning the argument over in his head, though the moot's moved on before he can struggle it out any further.

Grey drops into a hulking crouch next to Stone-Spirit, clawed fingers curled inward.

~There is an old Silver Fang proverb~, the fool begins. ~ It says 'You've earned my respect when you can look me in the eye'. In other words, when we stand as equals. Respect is based off trusting a person, of admiring their skills and abilities. How can you respect that which is below you? While I may be fond of someone who calls me -Rhya, I can not /respect/ them until they are my equal. Until they can look me in the eye.~

~Fucking Glass Walker arrogance!~ Olga shouts out in whinging, pained Mother Tongue; her words are at least half in jest, though there's just as surely at least a bit of honest complaint there. She adds, more quietly now and in the human tongue, with a wry smile stretched from cheek to cheek that indicates there's less honesty now, though maybe just enough to make it interesting, "You respect 'em because while you're so busy looking them in the eye, they're looking at that soft weak spot of your belly. Or just your wallet. Probably your wallet."

That argument seems to have caught Circle Keeper a tad off guard, the Ahroun pausing mid step, only causing himself to stumble. ~Respect little ones!~ He almost hesitantly snarls back.

~Garou are not equal,~ Song-of-Luna retorts. ~Only above and below! Both are important, and it is stupid to forget below helps to hold above up!~

~Even the oldest priest in the temple respects the youngest initiate who speaks wisely, because he knows he was that young one once before.~ Yi, having shifted to Glabro, speaks out for the first time since her entrance. The Jackal's Voice grates out of her, to her pain and likely others'.

The use of her tribe sends Blackriver's mind reeling, and she replies a bit later then usual, and when she does her arguement's a bit calmer. ~You can respect someone without having them be your equal. Look at a pack, there's an alpha, and all others are below the alpha, but if the pack does not respect each other, they do nothing. As a people our traditions allow for the low to challenge the high, we must respect what rights the others have for it to work.~

Untangler is still winding his way through the arguments of the previous law and can do little more than offer a haphazard, yet still earnest, sort of Yeah! after his packmates command.

Stone-Spirit lets out a tense huff, nostrils flaring and tail twitching.

Bitter-Harvest growls at various points in the calling, but he doesn't once add any words to them. They might be protests, or they might be just general disgruntlement giving voice.

Walks-Middle tilts her head at the Fool's words, then lets out a growl. ~Fool,~ she huffs out, her eyes narrowing. But she doesn't add much more than that.

As the Litany winds down, each law called, each challenged, each defended, Song-of-Luna seems to become more confident, more firm. When the last Law is finished, she turns her head, like a dog catching a scent, and points the glyph covered stick toward the waterfall. ~Now it is time to call to the Lady,~ she declares. And then, suddenly finished, she steps out of her spot and seems a little lost, failing to see either Fianna or members of her pack amongst the gathered Garou.

Spies-the-Wyrm glances one final time at the caller, then makes his way towards the rest of the gathered garou. He finds a spot a bit away from everyone, and slowly sits down, turning his attention to the next part of the moot.

Olga and Untangler both like this part, it's obvious in their expressions and in the way they hunch down in anticipation, one his paws all splayed against the hard clay and his fur all anticipatorily on end, the other sagged down in her coat like a runner setting himself down into his mark.

The howling and jeering of the Calling of the Litany comes to a close, and as the wave of tension just begins to ebb, the Opening of the Inner Sky is performed. Again, the sept is reminded of their caern, their totem, and all that they protect. Chimera's appearance is brief but meaningful. Under the last shimmering vestiges and the proclamation that the Inner Sky is opened, Far-Cry steps forward, his countenance as sober as a supervisor in a council meeting. He bears a large femur in hand, and holds it high to gain the attention of the Garou around. ~Honor the tradition of the Cracking of the Bone, and speak only when you have it in hand. Honor your septmates, and speak only with honesty. And finally, Honor Gaia, and use only the Mother's Tongue as we moot tonight.~ The Shadow Lord grips both ends of the bone, and with a solid snap, breaks the leg in two. He looks around for those who wish to speak. ~Now, those who wish to speak approach, and let us get to the marrow of things.~

Blackriver looks a tad bit disappointed when the calling ends, but settles back down next to her packmate, both of them participating eagerly in the Inner Sky.

Bitter-Harvest finally lifts his head, just enough to fix a narrow eyed gaze on his tribemate. He's attentive, but there's nothing pleasant about how he's regarding Far-Cry.

The Calling, truth to tell, seems to have little effect on one prematurely-grizzled Glass Walker. It certainly doesn't seem to lighten Grey's mood.

Song-of-Luna scitters to get out of the limelight as the Opening begins, though she still looks lost as she finds a spot to crouch, gripping her stick in both lower hands.

Circle Keeper is the first to stride forward, the Uktena leaning heavily on the shaft of his weapon with each lumbering step. When he arrives before Kenneth, he eyes the Shadowlord Darkly, before taking the bones from him a tad too roughly. ~Uktena tribe claimed territory by Wendigo's territory. It is not for going to. If you go there, and we have not welcomed you, we will have philodox punish you for violating our territory or worse.~ He snorts at the air a few times, and begins to hand the bones back to Kenneth. He pauses, though, and looks back out to the gathered. Looking like he's about to say something, he finally hands the bones back, and starts to limp back to Jacinta and Stacey.

A low growl echoes softly in Stone-Spirits throat as she crouches low to find purchase for her claws in the earth.

Rags takes the bones and looks over the attending Garou, then announces, ~This has been a good year for battles. We succeeded in the Great Hunt! I led the Great Hunt!~, he boasts. ~Howl, howl, for the victory in the Great Hunt! Culls-the-Herd, Shield-Bearer, Power-in-The-Darkness, Looks-On-the-Bright-Side, Howls-Accord, Bloods-Bane, Promises-Kept, and Far-Cry answered Untangler's call to the Great Hunt~, the Uktena seeks out those named among the crowd, ~All followed my lead to the quarry and fought fiercely! Be proud!~

Walks-Middle watches with interest as Far-Cry takes up the position of Truthcatcher, looking both proud and hopeful. At Circle Keeper's announcement, her head tilts with interest, and then she nods. As Rags takes the bones, her ears perk forward, taking in the news of victory.

Circle Keeper lifts his voice in a small howl, congratulatory.

Blackriver looks with pride at her packmate, and lets up a howl. Bloods-Bane looks quite happy, and howls too.

There's a strange sort of vicarious pride in Untangler as Circle Keeper speaks, not even at his words but just in the fact that he speaks to the assembled with bluntness and imperatives. The words themselves, in fact, don't even seem to sink in.

The ragged Uktena continues in the same congratulary tone, ~The target of last year's Great Hunt has been slain! Tracked down, pulled out of its hiding hole, and slain! Our enemies fall! Despite these victories, we must be on guard to protect this caern from our enemies! Unnatural creatures called back from the dead attacked not a couple of months ago! While our Guardians were not here, others were steadier and defended the caern--Bloods-Bane, Song-of-Luna, Howls-for-Glory, Runs the Gauntlet, and our Warder, Reflection's Howl. Look about you! You stand here, now, in this caern still ours, because of their efforts!~

Pierces Ice's ears turn back and her lips curl in a sharp snarl.

Grey's twists his ears back, snaps his jaws irritably, and then abruptly stands up and twists himself back into his birth form, away from the trigger-happy Crinos form.

In a steadier tone, Rags states, ~One of ours fell. Clemency Fire-Burns-Forever died so gloriously, she was accorded the Rite of the Hero's Pyre. Many attended her pyre and saw her spirit onwards to the afterlife, but only one of the guardians attended, although Fire-Burns-Forever fell in a fight that they called her into. I am here tonight to acknowledge the honor of that guardian.~, Rags indicates the youngest Guardian present. ~Stacey Walks-Middle, you are busy with guarding, your tribe, and your cubs. I will lighten your load! I challenge you for Groundskeeper! You have said you would have terms within a reasonable time--by this moot, no later! Are you ready?~

Song-of-Luna's narrow eyes narrow further. He doesn't seem terribly joyful.

Olga cracks a grin at Reggie's words, at his pride, enthusiasm, and even at his small jabs, though she also looks down at that, awkward and marginally worried. The challenge draws her eyes back up though, and she watches with detached curiosity.

Song-of-Luna whines faintly at the mention of Clemency, but that is the only noise she makes from her self chosen spot.

Circle Keeper's lips pull back, baring his teeth at Reggie with abject anger.

Pierces Ice's snarl turns into a growl, her cold eyes sharp on the Uktena, and her claws dig into the fur of her upper arms.

Far-Cry sweeps back his ears, and in the brief moment that the bones are returned to him, he shakes his head. ~This is not the time for challenges, Rags. Wait and that time will come. Who's next?~

Blackriver leaps up to the rock, grabbing the bones from Far-Cry and turning to face the crowd. ~Three things~ She starts. ~First, I now act as elder for the Silver Fangs, come to me if you have a problem with any one of them. The Theurge guest Promises-Kept has left the sept, but the metis Lune-Clamer still remains and is working on his chimminage. We also have two new cubs, both Galliards.~ Tongue curling out to lick her lips, she pauses for a moment before continuing.

Blackriver's chest swells with pride as she goes on. ~A new pack has formed. Wildfire, under the glorious and honorable Wyvern! I am alpha, Howls-for-Glory of the Fianna is beta, and Bloods-Bane, Cycle-Breaker, and Treeclimber are members as well.~ The Silver Fang's eyes dart to each of her packmates as she mentions their names. ~We claim territory south of the bawn, and are dedicated to protecting the forest there.~ There's another pause before the Philodox continues.

Walks-Middle straightens as Reggie address her, eyes narrowed at certain comments that had been made, but as things move on, she waits, giving little indication concerning her answer, although she is rather tense. The moon, no doubt... Instead, she turns her attention to Blackriver's announcements, listening silently.

Bitter-Harvest looks neutral at the news of new cubs and the coming and going of Silver Fangs, but he looks considerably sour at the mention of the new pack, and shifts in place.

~The two charachs Power-In-The-Darkness and Kills-The-Cries have been judged and punished accordingly. ~ Blackriver continues ~They have re-earned their right to live among us as member of the sept.~ Her eyes seek out the pair now, and her fur bristles when she finds them absent. Handing the bones back to Far-Cry, she pads back down to join Dillen, apparently done with her announcements.

Circle Keeper's anger at Reggie has hardly abated, the short, white crinos clenching his weapon like he's trying to strangle something vicariously. Blackrivers finall announcement does nothing for his mood.

Far-Cry takes back the bones, his grip hardening on them briefly at mention of former packmates. And then he glacnes around for the next Garou who wishes to speak.

Untangler looks confused, he even half gets up though his voice is just whimpers and his ears are slick and hidden: he doesn't understand what is said, his face is confused and uncertain. Though he's still trying to parse the Ahroun's words in some desperate way that makes sense and reverses this grim feeling, his posture displays, perhaps spurred on by his packmates' reactions, intense and bewildering betrayal.

Grey gives Blackriver a black glare at mention of Kevin and Basil, one that follows her for a few seconds as she returns to her place.

Blackriver glances at Grey as he glares at her, but soon dismisses him, attention back on the Truthcatcher.

Olga gets up, she saunters towards the bones, more swagger in her step than in her face and shoulders which betray the nervousness of public speaking. She drags with her the grocery bag that smells of death and human decay, and taking the bones she looks awkwardly around. In a movement she grabs in slippery Glabro hands at the thing in the bag and it spills out as she yanks it from its bit of plastic shroud: it's skin, filthy and tattered and nearly complete though with no sign of blood or, sadly, preservatives. ~Last crescent moon,~ she begins, her Glabro voice high and stretched, ~Rags and I killed this - this thing. It was a fomor, I figure, though I've never seen anything like it. Its body was stuffed with rats, which left his body and attacked us. It was some fucked up shit.~ Everyone present may not be familiar with the vernacular. ~If anyone knows what the hell this was, or heard of anything like it, let me know. If anyone sees another one like it, let me know. We couldn't slip sideways on my own thin moon, so we couldn't deal with the bane (if there is one I mean) and it's probably still out there.~

After giving back the bones with an apologetic nod towards Far-Cry, Rags studies Stacey with a slightly dubious air that increases as he looks over her packmates. His attention gets diverted by Blackriver's announcement, and he studies the crowd to also find the charaches are missing, so pins his gaze on the glyphs on Grey.

Bitter-Harvest's lips wrinkle back from his teeth as the source of the foul odor is revealed. He gives a growl of clear disgust.

Grey's punishment-scars are hidden now that the Walker is back in homid, but he's more than willing to meet Rags' glare with one of his own.

Stone-Spirit looks at Grey and follows his gaze, moving to see where it is held. She makes no notion of glaring at Rags, but her position near her packmate is reinforced by a straightening up and a lifting of her chin.

Blinking many times, Yi sucks a quick gasp of air before the contents of the bag are spilled out. She does, however, glance to the Guardians of the caern and tense a bit more in concern.

Blackriver's head tilts back and her ears flatten in disgust at the stink, lips curling back in a silent snarl. Bloods-Bane as well looks dubiously at the bag an its contents, one more Wyrm thing to kill.

Olga's piece is done, and almost regretfully she hands the bones back; she bundles the skin back up in its bag, taking her time while doing it while all the while keeping eyes on the increasing tension in the caern's heart. Once she's again got a bag full of skin, she sidles warily backwards, though she takes care not to go too far.

Fred makes his way toward the truthcatcher and accepts the bones with a yellow-toothed grin. ~Howdy,~ the rather scruffy looking Gnawer greets those gathered. ~I'm jus' up here ta introduce myself. Name of Fred, Philodox and Cliath of the Bone Gnawers. Ain't really got much in the way of a Deed-Name, since I ain't used one in so long. Gave a Fetish as Chiminage that helps with healin' an' it's being kept at the "Farmhouse." I'm rebuildin' ma old home out in the woods.~ The Bone Gnawer jerks his head in the general direction of Wendigo territory. ~Out that way. Jus' lettin' folks know.~ With that, the Gnawer wit the odd accent hands the bones back and heads over to his previous spot.

Pierces Ice's anger toward Rags shifts toward the Bone Gnawer as she dumps her bundle to the floor of the caern, redoubling into fury. Growling, she shuts her eyes until she can steady her breathing and regain control.

As he receives the bones from Fred, Far-Cry gives pause. Turning them in his hands, the Shadow Lord steps forward to make his own short announcement. ~When I was Rited, I was deednamed Dagger's-Edge,~ the Truthcatcher rumbles gruffly. ~And though I do not deny my past, neither do I embrace it. In fact, I have cast off the name that was given to me by my former tribal elder. I call myself Far-Cry now... a name given to me by one whom I respect.~ His glance to Walks-the-Middle is brief, but quite obviously there, before he turns back to the gathered. The halfmoon fails to elaborate further, stepping back to his place in the Truthcatcher's position and waiting for any other announcements.

Untangler has barely heard a word since Reggie's announcement; he stands there, befuddled and worried, and very slowly creeps his slow way towards the rest of his pack, there to find some solace just in proximity, just in not having to think for himself.

Blackriver's mood lightens somewhat as Fred introduces himself.

Bitter-Harvest looks to Kenneth again, scrutinizing the other Shadow Lord.

When no other announcements are made, the Truthcatcher gazes out over the crowd one last time to double check. ~If there are no more announcements, then we will move on to those who wish to air their challenges.~ He turns and (rather carefully) offers the bones to the Master of the Challenge.

Walks-Middle finds Far-Cry's announcement a welcome relief from the rest of the news, deciding to focus her attention on his words as she reigns in her rage, giving him a nod as he glances toward her.

Stone-Spirit takes in a deep breath, exhaling in a rush of flared nostrils as the moot progresses. Her eyes follow the passing of the bones and she stands herself up fully now.

Olga grimaces, her face contorted, bracing for impact like a helpless passenger in a collision. She does manage a slight, awkward, almost apologetic nod to Fred's announcement, but beyond that her eyes seem to take in Rags-Torn-to-Rags most of all, though when they travel along to Walks-the-Middle her tension eases slightly. When she sees Stone-Spirit stand it goes away all together, and she just watches, very quiet.

Still showing tension, particularly along her spine, and a trace of pink where claws broke skin on her upper arms, Pierces the Ice makes her way to the dais. She extends one hand for the fragments of bone, while turning her muzzle toward the crowd. For a moment, she does nothing but breathe, then, ~Now is the time when those who have issue with another Garou of the Sept may make their concerns known, and make their claim. Now is the time when those who feel they have earned Rank may make their claim. Stone Spirit, come forth!~

Grey glances over and up at his Crinos'd pack alpha. Then, shifting his weight, he clasps his hands behind his back and forces a neutral expression onto his scarred, saturnine features.

Perhaps for the first time all night, Bitter-Harvest's attention is fully and clearly snagged. He straightens a little and leans forward, peering at the Get Ahroun intently.

Yi tilts her head slightly towards the Pierces Ice again, and then towards Stone Spirit.

Stone-Spirit moves toward the master of the challenge, focused only on the task at hand. She stops just before the Wendigo and gives a slight bow of her head. When the bones are offered, she takes them and her gaze turns upon her tribemate, ~I have fought relentlessly for this Sept and grown strong over these past two years. I challenge Voice of the Unspoken for the rank of Fostern.~

Pierces Ice looks over to the challenged Get of Fenris, ears pulled forward in question.

Voice watches Stone-Spirit make her challenge. The ragabash's eyes are narrowed and thoughtful, a certain cunning shadowed in them. He strides forward and takes the bones, pausing to stare over at Stone-Spirit momentarily. The other Get receives a brief but vicious baring of the teeth before the guest Ragabash turns to address the entire gathering. He holds the bones above his head in a ritualistic and arcane posture of authority as he speaks. ~I am a guest here, and before saying anything else I wanted to thank the Hidden Walk for its hospitality. Now to the point. Stone-Spirit's challenged me for rank. I accept. As I'm unfamiliar with what the Hidden Walk considers a good challenge, I had to fall back on my own instincts--and those instincts are pure Get. Therefore, the terms are quite simple.~ Here, the ragabash turns to face Stone-Spirit specifically. ~We fight. At or near the next new moon, so that our rage is a little better checked, we'll face off. Any form is valid, any gift is valid, any trick is valid. To first submission.~ Once done speaking, Voice looks from Stone-Spirit to Pierces Ice and finally nods. He lowers his hand and returns the bones.

Bitter-Harvest curls his lips again and glowers. Intent as he is on Stone-Spirit's challenge, his feelings regarding Voice are /quite/ clear.

Olga is still silent, and she watches Stone-Spirit unflinchingly, with all the attention of an indentured gambler watching the big game. As the terms are given her perfect filthy composure breaks down, her fat lips rumble together into a roaring whoop as her fist punches the air. "Whoo!" she seems, slipping back into dirty raspy English without even realizing it. "You beat his ass down, Em!"

Far-Cry partially echoes his tribemate's expression, but the feeling behind his is much more of an instinctual expectation of a fight. Checking his growls back down into his throat, the halfmoon snorts quietly.

Pierces Ice gives a small bow of her head to Ethan, and looks to Emma. ~These terms are acceptable. Combat to submission with no limit. I will judge.~

Stone-Spirit nods her head, and offers her tribemate a wicked smirk, one that while bold, is not filled with genuine venom.

Blackriver's hackles raise as Olga call out in English, but she turns back to watch Ethan and Pierce Ice. Something in either the words of the Get or the Wendigo annoy her more, and she takes a few deep breathes to calm herself.

Tension underlies Rags as he inspects Olga's fomor pieces with interest, his nose wrinkling from the smell, looks curiously at Fred's introductions, then grins fiercely as Emma steps up to bat and at her terms.

Voice's eyes track to the Gnawer that cheered Emma to whip his ass. Finding Olga, there is a brief but unmistakable shudder of revulsion, but the enthusiasm she stirs is matched by his own. He returns Emma's expression with another baring of his teeth before filing off the dais to retake his place.

Bitter-Harvest hunches his shoulders as this particular challenge announcement comes to an end, and appears to drift back into his former distracted petulance. His only real movement is the occasional cat-like lashing of his tail from side to side.

Pierces Ice turns again to the crowd. ~What other challenges are brought before the Sept?~ Her eyes seek out Rags Torn to Rags, narrow, and full of venom.

Rags steps forward. ~I challenge Stacey for Groundskeeper~, he states briefly.

Walks-Middle walks proudly forward to take the bones from Jacinta when her time comes, and she looks out to scan the crowd until her gaze finally falls on Reggie nearby. ~It is true that there has been a lot on my plate lately, and I would willingly offer a part of my load to someone who shows the wisdom, strength, and /honor/ to take it. I accept your challenge for Groundskeeper, Rags-Torn-to-Rags, and I did, according to my words, have terms to give to you, which Pierces-Ice-rhya can attest to. However,~ Her voice gets a tad louder, tenser, as she continues. ~Your insult tonight shows you do not yet display that wisdom and honor, and I will be amending the challenge to test those areas. Before this week ends, you will have the new terms.~

Untangler has a glazed and harried look about him, his eyes slashing between Walks-the-Middle and Rags-Torn-to-Rags like a fox snatches glances at his two hounds. He doesn't say anything or even emote anything beyond worry and bewilderment, and he sidles up deferentially closer to Circle Keeper, as if his packmate will protect him from his confusion.

Far-Cry gazes quite intently towards the new challenger, and his ears lift when Walks-Middle announces her terms. He grows thoughtful, tension slipping down a couple of levels.

Pierces Ice's head bobs simple acceptance, though her ear twitches irritably as she looks to Reggie.

Rags looks dubiously at Stacey. ~You announced no terms, contrary to your word. You call on her word~, his dubious gaze turns towards Jacinta, ~I cannot accept it. She does not keep her word to me~, he snarls, newly offended at an old hurt. He wrestles to control himself and addresses Stacey, ~Perhaps another can speak for you?"

Bitter-Harvest's gaze lifts again, ears pricking.

Blackriver looks at Stacey, canting her head to the side as she explains about the terms. Her gaze then slides to Rags as he argues, and now she just looks a little annoyed.

Walks-Middle snarls at Rags' words, hackles raising as she growls, furious, but barely managing to hold down her rage. And also managing, juuuuust barely, to keep from speaking out of turn.

Stone-Spirit has returned to stand next to Grey once more, her attention curious and intent upon the arguing Garou. She snorts once, but seems neutral in opinion.

Grey's nose wrinkles slightly at the ragged Uktena; his opinion of Rags, compared to Stacey or even Jacinta, is abominably low.

Yi furrows her brow at Rags' rejection of his rejection, wincing at something in her thoughts. The ragabash only looks to the Master of the Challenge, however, for anything more.

Far-Cry's lowered tension level apparently only took the dip to get speed for another rise. His lips twitch, wanting to lift back, but being denied.

Pierces Ice's eyes flash fire at the Uktena, hackles rising, tail lifting, and ears pulling forward. ~Enough. She will give terms when she says. You insult her honor, and my own, before the entire Sept. Take back your words and give Contrition before the Hidden Walk!~

~Your honor!~, a snarling Rags turns towards Jacinta, then jabs an arm towards Far-Cry. ~Philodox! Can you tell if I tell the truth?~

Blackriver's ears raise in surprise, and she leans forward, lips curling back to reveal her teeth. Her gaze flits between the three on the stone, and once she even glances over at Far-Cry.

Bitter-Harvest's muzzle wrinkles, but not in disgust. That /might/ actually be the slightest, slightest hint of eagerness. He's paying attention now, gaze riveted on Rags as though the Uktena might, at any moment, burst into a million pieces.

Pierces Ice's head shakes, lips showing full teeth. ~This is the time for challenge,~ she hisses out. ~Not accusation.~

Far-Cry straightens up when he is called upon, and glances to Pierces Ice for a second before staring intently at the Uktena. ~As she said, the Master of the Challenge deigns whose challenges and terms are acceptable in this sept. If you reject her decision, you challenge her position and judgement as well. Are you doing so, Rags?~

Olga draws in a deep, fierce warning breath and then instead of watching any further she simply rises and, dragging both bags with her, she makes heavy stewing retreat to the waterfall. She ditches both and struggles to find some kind of serenity as she punches her way through the gauntlet.

Walks-Middle once again manages to keep silent, although she's glaring at Rags as the others speak, fists clenched. Far-Cry's words subdue her somewhat, but she's no where near calm, that Ahroun rage just begging to be freed.

Grey mutters a Serbian word or two, very quietly. Stone-Spirit's probably the only one who hears it.

The lack of a straightforward yes or no befuddles Rags for a moment, and he glares at Far-Cry as he works through the phrases. ~I challenged for Groundskeeper. She does not have her terms.~ He snaps his teeth. ~I will wait...another 'reasonable time' for these terms.~

Pierces Ice's ears twitch, but remain forward, and her tail remains high. She looks out at the crowd, eyes stopping on her packmate and, spotting something in his posture, calls him forward.

Circle Keeper moves forward, the Fostern taking halting steps towards the centre. The white Crinos scans around, before facing Reggie's direction. ~TORN TO RAGS.~ He snarls loud. ~You insult me. You insult _my pack_! I will have contrition, or I /will/ have blood. I challenge you.~ With the last statement, he takes his weight off his weapon, pointing the head directly at Reggie.

Far-Cry doesn't look particularly satisfied with the reply, but Circle Keeper's interruption makes him even less so. Still, he gazes to the Challenge Master, awaiting her word.

Blackriver gives the proceedings a rather annoyed look, glancing at her packmate every so often. Settling back on her haunches, she watches the events unfold with a rather detached, cool, professional interest.

Rags turns towards Circle Keeper, his face pulled into a snarl. ~Terms. Given in a 'reasonable time'. Not months!~ The thin veneer of his control nearly evaporates, but is held together by the magic of the moot that somehow keeps a full gathering of Garou from frenzying at the full moon, and he snaps out. ~Battle.~

Pierces Ice's fingers flex, black claws drawing blood from her palms. Ears twitch backward once more and she nods, looking once to each Uktena. ~Acceptable.~ Then, exhaling forcefully, she looks out over the center of the Caern again. ~Other challenge?~ Her words are short, clipped.

Untangler cringes, his fur like pins, his posture tentative and directionlessly fierce. Full of fear and worry he clings to the clay earth, looking, somehow, like this is all his fault, and he is very, very sorry.

Walks-Middle slowly makes her way back to Horace during all this, still fighting to keep her control, and then stands back proudly in her original spot. Although, once she reaches the Ragabash, the child does glance down at him with as comforting a look as she can manage, as if to say 'it's not you'.

Circle Keeper turns abruptly, stomping back to his packmates. A low rumble forms in his chest as he goes.

Far-Cry looses a very low growl with all the tension rising. His eyes follow the Child of Gaia, and then jerk back towards Reggie. ~To answer you, yes I can tell if you're telling the truth.~ That's all he says before looking to Jacinta, dipping his head slightly.

Stone-Spirit lets out a heavy puff of air, leaning back and resting on her haunches. Her tail flips and twitches with each passing moment of tension.

Seeing no further sign of challenge from the crowd, Pierces the Ice hands the bones back to Far-Cry with a small nod of her head. Despite the tension still with her, there is something thoughtful in her gaze toward the Philodox.

Far-Cry receives the bones lightly, and looks over the others. ~Our time to honor our ways of testing each other has passed. Now, we honor our storytellers. The Cracking of the Bone...~ The halfmoon pauses, lifts up the two pieces and slams the pointy parts into the ground beneath him, ~...is done. Come on, Talesinger! Spin us a story!~ And at that, he retreats to a spot to listen to the songs and stories to be shared.

Tales are told to lighten or darken the moods of the Garou, but as the stories come to a close, the tension heightens further in the anticipation of the Revel.

Stone-Spirit lets out a short grunt and rises up as things begin to come to a close. ~Well now that we're all filled with rage and venom, why don't we put it to good use! Let's take our claws to the enemy!!~