January 2007 Revel: Cement Dumpers
1/6/2007
02:22 PM
Logfile from GarouMUSH.
Currently the moon is in the waning Full Moon phase (82% full).
It is currently 14:04 Pacific Time on Sat Jan 6 2007.
Currently in Saint Claire, it is a cloudy day. The temperature is 42 degrees Fahrenheit (5 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from the east at 10 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 30.43 and rising, and the relative humidity is 79 percent. The dewpoint is 36 degrees Fahrenheit (2 degrees Celsius.)
Nivek's Nightmare Nexus (Open All Nite)(#2492RFJ)
A place where the unknown past and the emergent future meet in a vibrating soundless hum.
Contents:
Dillen (Bloods-Bane), Masao (Leaves-None), Leslie (Treeclimber), Abraxas (Bitter-Harvest), Stacey (Walks-Middle), Aja (Shrouds), Ruth (Trips-Over-Paws), Kristin (Fears-Pain), Khem (Brightside), Grebbsy (GM)
Obvious exits:
GM Nexus
Once the stories, anecdotes and suchlike are over, those garou who aren't going on the revel drift away from the caern, or remain there talking to their compatriots, while those who are, led by the Child of Gaia ahroun Walks-Middle, prepare themselves for the upcoming experience.
Amost as if she had been watching for a while, as the stories wind down and people begna to gather themselves for the Revel, Leslie walks out of the trees, dressed for a workout and stride purposeful. Her expression is reserved and curiously withdrawn.
Or in the case of Bitter-Harvest, they stand awkwardly apart from the other Garou, looking both sour and generally uneasy. The Ahroun looks like he's primed for the fight though, at least. His teeth are practically grinding, and there are more than a few dark looks cast at various and sundry Garou.
Leaves-None rouses herself from where she'd reclined most of the moot, having quietly observed with sharp ears and an uncharacteristic silence. Shaking herself all over, she pads forward as some leave and others appear.
Far-Cry slips in from the very edge of the gathered as the stories give way to the tense expectations of the revel to come. His dark fur helps to keep him relatively hidden, though only in the visual sense.
By one of the trees, Dillen stands off, watching silently as people congregate. He gives a stretch and cracks at his neck before he steps within those who plan to revel.
Once everything is checked out and ready, Shrouds shakes her fur and her muscles out before she glances towards the cubs and gnashes her teeth mildly to make sure they are paying attention to the Revel. Fears-Pain is watching for the moment, pressed against the wall and looking rather nervous. Trips-Over-Paws is just as nervous it seems, but her presence holds a more proud bearing about being able to attend. Overall, despite their youth, it seems like the cubs are going to attend.
Once preparations have been made and all are ready, Walks-Middle steps apart from her tribemates, her posture proud, confident, excited for the fight, and she lets out a fierce howl to get the attention of those gathered. ~Come, Warriors of the Hidden Walk! Let us seek out where the Wyrm may be hiding, what threatens Gaia! Lend your claws and fangs to the hunt! Let us Revel! Follow me!~
The Wyrmfoe gathers her cohorts and leads them into the Umbra via the Caern Stone's reflective surface. For well over an hour the garou quarter the caern and bawn in the Shadow, but no malign spirits are to be found, and even the less unwelcome kind of spirits tend to give the revelling Garou a wide berth. Once she's content that the umbra is clean and free of the Wyrm, Stacey leads the garou back to the Realm, and repeats the exercise on this side of the Gauntlet. In the heart of the Caern and on its north side all is well, but as the warriors of Gaia approach the south, they can hear noises that seem not to belong there, and those in crinos or lupus can scent both the odor of men and of machinery.
Trips-Over-Paws hangs back in Shroud's shadow, but from her reaction it seems she has picked up the signs of something out of place. She glances across to the older Gaian and the other Gaian cub to see if they have also sensed it.
Just as the Wyrmfoe was beginning to think that this Revel would end without a confrontation, they come across the out-of-place noises. Motioning for quiet, for stealth, Walks-Middle then indicates for the two Ragabash, Leaves-None and Shrouds, to go ahead of the group. ~See how many, what they have, why they are here,~ she growls softly. ~Look for weapons and if they are near houses that may have others. Do not fight. Go in lupus.~
From the way Treeclimber's nose goes up and her ears prick forward, then flatten, she's smelled it too. She bares sharp teeth in lupine disgust. South. How long has it been there? As the Wyrmfoe speaks, she looks over, then back to the source of the stench, tail flicking now and then.
Bitter-Harvest's nose, in contrast, doesn't even so much as twitch, though his ears swivel this way and that, and his teeth bare. That disgusting tongue of his is plain to see, as for once he isn't making an effort to keep his mouth closed in this form.
Leaves-None spends much of the search time lagging towards the rear of the group, occasionally moving up a bit further before dropping back again. When the cleaner air of the woods is broken by the otherwise out of place scents, her head pops up groundhog-like to catch the sounds with it. At the direction from the Wyrmfoe, she moves up to the front as quickly as she can, her light-furred form blurring and shifting to the eye as she moves forward as quietly as possible.
Far-Cry stretches out his long lupine running stride throughout the course of the Revel, flagging only to a slowed and less ground eating pace when the acrid scent of civilization creeps in. His hackles stiffen with a withheld irritation and anger at the intrusion, looking to the Wyrmfoe and standing back. A gauging glance is given to the cubs they've brought along.
Bloods-Bane lifts his nose to the smells that are out in the distance. He takes in a deep draw, sorting out what he senses. He stays back with the others. He moves slowly up by Treeclimber, nudging her shoulder. His eyes go over the scene, watching as the two raggies check things out. He paws at the ground slightly, anxious for some battle.
Keeping a few steps ahead of the cubs, Shrouds bares her teeth as she picks up the scent as well; but she remains quiet. At Walks-Middle growls her instructions, the crinos nods sharply before she crouches down and shifts down to lupus. Shaking out her new fur in her much smaller body, Shrouds glances again towards the cubs and growls at them to be wary before she trots on ahead, her own body blurring as she invokes her gift to investigate as well.
Brightside arrives from where the group came, not slinking or looking to be worried about his arrival, late or no. The Strider, silent as he is, doesn't seem worried in the least. Brightside appears content to be there, posture showing that he feels rightful in his quiet eagerness to help out in the revel.
Treeclimber turns her head towards Brightside, her ears going back about halfway. She pauses a moment, then, since the group appears to be waiting for something, wanders over to sniff at the newcomer intently, tail neutral. Does this one know you?
It's a matter of mere minutes before the spirit-blurred forms of first Leaves-None-Behind, and then a little time later Shrouds, appear back to their fellow garou.
Brightside is open in his allowance to be sniffed, scenting back as well. Yes. Brightside. Strider. Was on successful hunt. Then the others return and he turns his attention to the scouts.
At Khem's arrival, Walks-Middle briefly turns her attention from ahead to glance back, and she simply nods, approving his joining, before the young Wyrmfoe once again watches for the scouts to return. Her ears perk forward as she spots the first, and she awaits their report.
Treeclimber sniffs one last time, but her posture relaxes. Yes, this one knows you, but had not scented your wolf. Satisfied, she steps away and back towards Bloods-Bane, attention now on the Wyrmfoe.
Leaves-None comes back into view and pads back towards the gathered Garou, ears still high and alert. Two-legs ahead. Six. Dropping two-leg leavings at side of road. All male. Can not scent for Wyrm so not sure if any are. She swipes her tongue across her nose, turning her head to confirm that Shrouds returned as well.
Clicking her teeth first to get attention, Shrouds chuffs before she confirms the report, adding; rubble from buildings. Unsure like Leaves-Non-Behind. With that, Shrouds shakes her body once more, seeming a bit uneasy still as she scents the air eagerly.
Far-Cry growls thick and deep. Do they have ~guns?~
Bloods-Bane looks towards the scouts, awaiting their words. He bares his teeth a moment at the mention of guns then looks to Stacey.
Walks-Middle listens intently to the scouts, her eyes narrowing at the report, definitely not happy about the activity. ~Six... Can anyone sense Wyrm?~ she asks, glancing toward the others before looking back at the scouts. ~The side of a road? How great would you judge the risk of a veil breach there? Well-used road?~
Treeclimber flicks her ears in a negative to Walks-Middle, but otherwise remains silent.
Bitter-Harvest shakes his head. Negative for him too, it would see. He's looking very, very antsy.
No. Shrouds responds easily enough. None seen, rubble and trash in metal-riders-.. And Shrouds stop speaking as she decides to just shift up to crinos. Her body shudders and grows up, twisting into that fearsome beast with an easier mouth to use. ~Six trucks, they were unloading building rubble and trash. Didn't smell guns, but they were by the road that runs down from Kent Crossing to Wolf Woods, by the end of Highway 22.~
Leaves-None chuffs lowly and agrees that she did not see or scent any among those there. We were above, they were below. It was quiet. Another swipe of her tongue across her nose comes as if tasting something foul. Quiet enough that two-legs would drop things there and not expect to be caught.
Brightside circles slightly to the side, remaining in the effective 'back' of the group but now having a better angle to take in everyone's posture.
A low, guttural snarl erupts from the throat of the Fury, and she bares her teeth in irritation. This one has seen two-legs with foul things there before. If anything, she becomes more antsy, and looks again to the Wyrmfoe, clearly impatient where before she had been tense but patient.
A low, guttural snarl erupts from the throat of the Fury, and she bares her teeth in irritation. This one has seen two-legs with foul things there before. If anything, she becomes more antsy, and looks again to the Wyrmfoe, clearly impatient where before she had been tense but patient. (repose)
Walks-Middle gives a faint growl at the new information, glancing over at the Fury with narrowed eyes. ~If humans, we can frighten them off, discover what they are up to and how to stop it. If Wyrm, we fight. Trips-Over-Paws,~ Walks turns to face the young cub. ~I want you to run and find someone who knows Sense Wyrm. Song-Of-Luna or Blackriver, perhaps. Lead them back here.~ She turns to the rest. ~We continue on in two groups. Bloods-Bane, Bitter-Harvest, and Leaves-None-Behind with me. The rest follow. Shrouds, make sure nothing sneaks up from another direction. All in lupus for now. We will see if we can discover more.~ Orders given, the Wyrmfoe shifts down into lupus and continues forward quietly.
Trips-Over-Paws's head lifts abruptly, ears pricking as if she can't believe what she heard. Something important to do? The very thought stills her for a long moment. Then she recovers, and slips into Lupus for speed before spinning and loping off quickly back between the trees, towards the Caern.
~Wildfire~ has frightened them off before, Treeclimber observes, ears flat against her skull in barely bridled irritation. If they return, perhaps they need a more pointed lesson.
Bitter-Harvest grunts, and moves immediately to trail behind Walks-Middle.
~Wildfire~ has frightened them off before, Treeclimber observes, ears flat against her skull in barely bridled irritation. If they return, perhaps they need a more pointed lesson. (repose)
Leaves-None gives herself a brief shake and moves a bit to one side in joining the Wyrmfoe's group. Some lessons need repeated teachings rumbles the Gnawer before she goes quiet again.
With a chuff, Shrouds lowers herself back down to lupus form before she begins to sniff and scent the ground, moving around the group while remaining in close proximity to scout the area within a close distance; ensuring none will come at them from behind as ordered.
Far-Cry grunts acknowledgingly, pacing up to the front of the second group, sticking to the left side of the clump. He twists an ear towards Walks-Middle, waiting as well.
Brightside offers with a rumbling and mixture of Mother's Tongue that some lesson plans need to be revised. Brightside is rather adept at moving quietly and being watchful at the same time, and puts this practice into use now, going on with his appointed group.
Treeclimber's ears go back again, flattening further and her hackles going up as the Shadow Lord steps to the front of the second group. Oh, the Philodox is not in a good mood tonight. Not at all. Her tail flags high and she stares directly at the Shadow Lord. This hunt edges my pack's territory.
Far-Cry is not in a good mood either, not receiving Treeclimber's stare well. His tail stiffens, lifts, and hackles bristle right back. It edges, but it does not enter, Treeclimber. Are you going to make the Wyrmfoe ask your permission to hunt near it too?
This one asks for no such thing. Treeclimber does not back down, her stare unwavering. This is personal to me. I wish to lead the second group.
From the distance ahead where the men and their trucks have been reported, there's a long rumbling, grating sound.
The cleansing of the threat near the Heart's edges is personal to all who stand and breathe here, Far-Cry snaps back, teeth clicking, eyes locked on the Fury. Do you have any better reason why I should not? The Shadow Lord's chest puffs some more.
Bloods-Bane curls up his lips and now a low growl comes from his lips. It is Wildfire territory. He says out, moving forward some. He's full of tension now. Yes. He looks to Stacey. The enemy is the true target, let us not use time for squabbles.
Brightside growls out, though his anger is held readily in check. ~There is a leader by rite. Turn to the Wyrmfoe and be led.~
Treeclimber does not answer -- Far-Cry or, indeed, anyone else. Her eyes are locked with the Shadow Lords, unyielding and cold, in a pose that can only mean one thing -- a dominance challenge.
Leaves-None's head snaps towards the sound, answering it with a low growl and taking a few steps in that direction. We wait too long. More time will pass and they will leave.
Bitter-Harvest turns his head, eyeing his tribe-mate and the Fury with clear impatience and irritation. ~Unless you're going to challenge Walks-Middle in the middle of a hunt, get on with it!~
Walks-Middle turns to look back at the second group, letting out another faint, angry growl. ~Quiet and move. Brightside, will you show them the way to move forward? No more of this! We will surround the group of humans, each group on a different side. /Follow me/.~
On hearing Walks-Middle's orders, Treeclimber stares at Far-Cry for a moment more, then breaks away, tail dropping. Fine. Go, this one will follow. She turns to face Brightside, ears flat aginst her skull but clearly submitting to the Wyrmfoe.
Far-Cry breaks off the staredown with a snap of his gaze at the Wyrmfoe's backside nigh at the exact same time as Treeclimber. For once, he actually looks quite annoyed at the Coggie elder - more than he's ever - and sidesteps away from the Fury to pointedly break off their mini-challenge. The Shadow Lord pins his gaze after on the Strider, pawing the dirt impatiently.
Brightside snaps his teeth and his posture grows comfortably into a position of dominance as he moves on, sniffing at Treeclimber and Far-Cry first then the others he will be 'leading', Trips-Over-Paws and Shrouds all in a suggestive 'tag-you're-it' manner as he passes them. He is behind the Wyrmfoe quickly and moving on, no obvious reaction to any anger or such directed at him shown. Lead on, Wyrmfoe. We will conquer your unchosen side by your word.
At some point during the aguments, and from quite some distance, Trips-Over-Paws' young howl can be heard drifting back to the warparty. ~Garou of the Sept, the warriors of the Revel need the Gift of sensing the Wyrm. Come! Please! This way!~'.
Mere moments after Trips' howl, there's a fainter answer. ~Coming!~ is Song-of-Luna's response.
Bitter-Harvest's impatience is practically a palpable thing as he moves again to follow Walks-Middle, though not without a very dark, irritated look shot at Far-Cry.
After the commotion, Bloods-Bane moves up beside Walks-Middle. He keeps up with the leader of his pseudo pack.
Walks-Middle continues on once all is settled, her group close by, and seeks to get closer to the area in which the humans are, keeping within the shelter of the trees, but trying to get to a spot from which they can see the reported trucks.
Trips-Over-Paws's paws patter hurriedly closer until the cub comes into view, leading Song-of-Luna to the group.
Shrouds continues her minor scouting to ensure that there are no surprise attacks or ambush, not to mention to keep an eye out for any other surprise elements. Still, she keeps close to the group, following around the edges of the group. Treeclimber, now with a stolidly neutral air, forms up with the second group and moves forward along with them. Far-Cry contains himself, despite the stiffness of his movement, readable by his shoulders. The philodox ignores his tribemate's look. Rather, he misses it entirely as he focuses on following behind Khem and keeping out of Treeclimber's way. Brightside does much as Walks-Middle, taking her lead rather well. He then moves away after a moment of walking together with the other group, a chomping of teeth the only indication that he intends to change from just going forward. The Strider goes off to circle around, away from the other group and likewise keeps to tree's shade while looking for a better viewing position.
As the two groups move forward, the scraping and rattling sound from up ahead ceases. A few moments later, it's replaced by a sound which will be more familiar to the majority of garou present -- an engine starting up, followed seconds later by another.
Bitter-Harvest looks downright furious as the sound of an engine reaches his ears, and for a moment he looks about to utter something about it, but he contains himself. Leaves-None's ears pin back in annoyance as she moves but the Gnawer keeps the bulk of it to herself and stays quiet. She watches for signals from Walks-Middle and tries not to look agitated as the group presses onward. Song-of-Luna is breathing heavily, and her body language is a sharp combination between eagerness and anxiety. She's in lupus, and moving very close to the ground, as if she thought she could make her extra set of legs disappear if she just got low enough. The Get stays in close, body tense and muscles full of energy for a fight. He cranes his neck to get a look at what is ahead, still keeping behind Stacey as the leader. Every bit of him wants to jump at it. Walks-Middle continues to lead the group forward, although as Song-of-Luna arrives, she chuffs for the metis to join her. Check for Wyrm when you see the two-legs, she growls, then indicates up ahead, where the sounds of engines are starting. The Child picks up the pace at that noise, now mostly concentrating on /getting/ to the threat.
On hearing the sound of engines Treeclimber's ears rise and she looks disquieted, plainly having to force herself to remain in her group and not run ahead without orders. Shrouds immediately grows wary at the shift of sounds, giving a warning grunt towards her group before she continues, following orders while sniffing as her nose twitches. Far-Cry pushes his ears forward at the sound. His pace picks up along with the others, more than eager to vent his building rage on the intruders that have yet to be seen. The Strider slows for a moment at the sound of the engine and growls, ~We move. Better look from our angle.~ Brightside then quickens his speed and angles further out, outpacing the other group but withholding from a real charge, despite the urgency that is there which he decided to act upon. Brightside seeks to more quickly find a vantage point and does move his group further from the other, more of in a locale for a pincer-strike than a triangle. His group moves not worrying about the noise as much as not being spotted, counting on the cover of the engines for all else. Trips-Over-Paws slips into Brightside's group quietly but with eagerness, the Strider sniffs vividly at the scent but does not question the arrival.
As the garou in their two groups press forwards towards the road, the engine notes increase in pitch. By the time they emerge at the top of the bank overlooking the road, the two trucks are already gone, dwindling lights on the road leading back to Kent Crossing. As a sign of their passing, two heaps of debris lie at the roadside; bricks, sand, splintered wood, empty sacks of cement, plastic sheeting, and miscellaneous trash, all combining to make an eyesore in the otherwise pleasant rural vista.
We had this before. Thought we took care of it. Bloods-Bane growls. Spoke to them in homid. His teeth show with aggravation. Smells like the same people. He says as he takes a deep sniff of the air and the leaving humans. Bitter-Harvest spits a wordless snarl at the vacated dump site, looking none-too-pleased, none-too-pleased at all. He looks toward Walks-Middle expectantly, as if she might produce the enemy on demand. Song-of-Luna scurries forward, keeping pace with Walks-Middle as her ears give an acknowledging twitch. As they arrive, those same ears quirk in different directions. There's a moment of indecision on her part, and then she goes ahead and points her muzzle toward the left behind garbage, choosing to sniff for the Wyrm even though it appears the humans have already left. Leaves-None stares after the departing trucks for a long moment in limp-eared defeat. Then she growls in returning annoyance, hackles raising as she backs up towards the treeline with a slight limp to her step. With her own growl of frustration, Walks-Middle seems inclined at first to attempt to follow the trucks, but deems the distance gained by them too great. She instead continues toward the piles, letting Song-of-Luna check the piles and waiting for the result. Leaves-None, she turns toward the Ragabash, scout the nearby area, see if anything else was left that is not yet noticed.
Brightside snaps his teeth back to those following him, irritation held in check just well enough to still be hinted at without spilling over his posture. He moves now towards the other group with growls issuing. We clease. Human trash is tainted by it's nature. Ritual cleansing needed. Passing 'behind' a larger tree absolutely between him and view of the road he emerges on the otherside in homid, "Then we can return their shit."
Leaves-None rumbles acknowledgement and trots off to make a circuit of the area and subsequently attempt to reign in her temper.
Bitter-Harvest snarls, and turns to look for Far-Cry and Treeclimber. ~The next time you decide to throw a fucking tantrum...~ He cuts himself off, which may well be for the best, because he's already digging himself a nice hole.
Song-of-Luna looks back at Walks-Middle, and indicates a negative after a long moment.
Far-Cry lashes his tail behind him, nostrils flaring in underlying disappointment and absolutely no mood to apologize for whatever delay he might've been the cause of. Bitter-Harvest's snarl is caught, as well as his comment. The halfmoon Slord turns and snarls right back, his form shifting up to his Crinos warform. ~Silence, sterile one! You who will never know what it is to be a leader of a group should keep your snake-tongued muzzle shut!~ Then he pointedly turns away, looking towards Khem and roughly replies, ~Cleansing will be done, then. But it needs fire, and fresh water.~
Bloods-Bane moves into the trees as well and comes out in homid. "Then we clean. I will head back and get Water and lighter fluid." He growls out once more. "Will bring on my bike from the farmhouse."
Walks-Middle snarls as she paces, chuffing a note of understanding to Song-of-Luna. As the Strider says, she growls out. Far-Cry knows how to Cleanse. One go for fire, another water. And then we will have this moved out of the wild.
Now that. That would be the straw. Bitter-Harvest is already in crinos, and as Far-Cry turns his back the metis steps forward. ~Come within claws reach and say that, you cowardly, whiny, pathetic piece of /shit/!~ His eyes are already locked on the other Shadow Lord.
Leaves-None's form darts across the road a short ways down the road, in the opposite direction the trucks went, and slips back into the trees.
Khem shakes his head and lifts a finger towards Far-Cry, he does not visibly react to the yelling though. "Hold on the fire. There are other ways, more important ways to handle this. Humans will fight an enemy. They will /avoid/ an annoyance. We should cleanse with oils and herbs. Branches of willow. I know the ritual. We then bring their trash back to them." When Abraxas yells now, Khem narrows his eyes. "Kill each other later. The two are lucky, as you should hope to be when you lose your Luna-given temper, that their so called tantrum did not end in the loss of Gaian lives. This can be cured, death can not."
Bloods-Bane cannot help but give a slight chuckle to Khem's words. "He's right. We do this and they you challenge later." He looks about, "So I get what from town, then? Don't think I can dig up a dumptruck..."
Far-Cry might be holding on that fire, but the inner fire flares into a blazing bonfire held in his eyes. He whirls half way around and stops, fighting the urge to answer the insult with violence quite visibly, black fur and form shaking. ~Oh, don't worry,~ he growls thickly at Abraxas, ~I'm sure it will be /you/ who comes to /me/.~
Bitter-Harvest's look, his entire posture, is one of utter and complete hatred. ~If I do, it will be because you're too afraid to back up your mouth.~ He takes a clearly measured breath, glancing daggers at Dillen and Khem. ~...We clean. And then, not a damned moment after, you'll answer me or I'll hunt you down and make you answer.~
Leaves-None pops back across the road in the direction the trucks left in and gradually makes her way back to the gathered group. Using the cover of the trees, she retakes homid form and steps out, rubbing at her right shoulder and glowering. "Nothing. Just cigarette butts. Fuckin' lovely." The pair of Crinos get a sour look as she reports her lackluster findings.
Khem grins at the Get and then shakes his head, all seriousness once more after that. "We enlist the spirits. There are some devilish among them that would be happy to help make a mess, and probably would say yes so quick we wouldn't have to offer a payment. I think we give back the trash, infested with roaches, once it is all cleansed of course. I'd say rats too, but they are too suseptible to poison and I'm not sending them all to Weaver-tainted deaths." He lets Far-Cry and Abraxas yell once more, then offers, "You suffer us to live with your sickness of the pack we here stand together as." He looks back to Dillen and Walks-Middle, "Bind the trash heap with a spirit of mud to make it thicker. Stickier. More permiable. The smell hangs around longer. More difficult to clean in general."
Bitter-Harvest turns to look at Khem, and there isn't the slightest lessening in the hate in his features. ~If you think I am /sick/ and /weak/, Strider, you are more than welcome to go after him.~
Bloods-Bane laughs and nods to Khem. "I like that. Sounds good to me." He shoves his hands into his pockets. "Where do we go from here?" He rolls his eyes at all the words being thrown about.
Khem looks with saddness upon the metis, then back to the trash. "So much hate. Let it go, before it is all you have." He seems lost in his thoughts before he finally comes back to reality to answer Dillen. "Cleanse. Then contact the other side. These are spirits of joyful mischief we contact. Let no one with misery in their heart remain to assist, the sickness is not in the one..." He glances for a moment back to Abraxas, his eyes holding a deep weeping sadness, before looking once more in the neutral direction of the trash heap, "It is the hate given freely to one's own family."
Far-Cry snorts, tone as smooth as sandpaper as he jerks his gaze away from his tribemate and focuses on the task at hand. Finding himself a stick to draw a circle around the piles with, the philodox's mutterings lean towards that of cleansing ritual prayer than grumbles. He'll perform the rite the right way, no matter what.
Dillen scritches a hand across his head. "Cleansing is not what I am called for." He looks about the group. "Cleansers?" As he looks over the group seeing if he can remember if any are. Then he sees Kenneth doing it already. "Cool."
~/Family/~ Bitter-Harvest spits. ~/Family/! You lecture me on hatred and in the same breath say I'm not /fit/ to help cleanse the Wyrm, that I weaken the pack! I came here to fight, just like you, my claws are just as sharp, and you are not the fucking Wyrmfoe to order me around. If you want to try and deny me this, then you can challenge me, right now.~
Khem looks back and stands tall now, all sadness removed and stern seriousness replacing it. "Your claws will not remove the Wyrm that is within. Your words only are of hate and anger which are the tools against cleansing. The Wyrmfoe is not a Philodox. I am. Chosen by Luna to be Gaia's balance and law. The threat is gone, and yet taint that is the half-moon's plight to combat remains. Unity is not served by your decisions. I, Khem, Memory of Egypt, then do challenge you on your fitness to cleanse this mess in the ways I spoke of."
Masao eyes Abraxas for a moment, fingers clamping on her shoulder tightly to keep her from loosing her tongue on the metis. Instead, she whispers her chosen epithets and clenches her teeth. Shaking her head, she looks away and inhales a breath before moving to help with anything she can.
~Any hate and anger I have that isn't Luna's doing,~ Abraxas snarls, suddenly deadly quiet, ~Is because of /you/ and your so called /family/. I am not /tainted/. Fight me. Now. Away from the fucking road.~
Far-Cry focuses himself on his task at hand, helped out or not by others he ignores Abraxas until he can't any longer. ~Brings-the-Bitter-Harvest, step away from the ritual area and return to the caern.~ The halfmoon's tone is dead serious and very flat, brooking no challenge to the sanctity of the circle he's drawn around the piles. Everything about Far-Cry states he wants Abraxas to do but one thing, and that is Leave.
Bitter-Harvest turns a sharp look on Kenneth. Instead of replying, he turns expectantly toward Walks-Middle. The ahroun is trembling, his fists clenched so tightly that his claws are digging into his own palms.
Dillen shakes his head. "Take it to the barn. C'mon. Don't want this on my territory anyway." He waves his hands towards the farmhouse and barn. "So. Now I tell you, as a member of Wildfire... Get the fuck off my pack territory or I will kick your asses." And his arms fold over his chest.
An ear twists towards Dillen, and a flat glare is given towards the Get. Former packmate or no, the philodox clicks his teeth together in the beginnings of a growl, only to stifle it after receiving a glare from a very unamused Wyrmfoe. The halfmoon turns himself, moving back towards the drawn circle. A low rumble of how inconvenient it is to have to start a ritual over is audible.
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