Changing the Guard

1/17/2007

04:35 PM
Logfile from GarouMUSH.

Currently the moon is in the waning New Moon phase (7% full).
It is currently 16:16 Pacific Time on Wed Jan 17 2007.
Currently in Saint Claire, it is a cloudy day. The temperature is 37 degrees Fahrenheit (2 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from the southwest at 6 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 30.48 and rising, and the relative humidity is 85 percent. The dewpoint is 33 degrees Fahrenheit (0 degrees Celsius.)

Thunder Cave(#1410RA)
Once you enter this cave, you see it is much larger than you originally thought. From the small opening it widens and takes a sharp turn, providing a natural windbreak. Looking around, you see a spacious chamber, long ago carved from the limestone by running water. Quartz veins scintillate in the light. In the center of the room, a small fire burns, more for light than heat, as the room is quite well insulated. Looking up, you see the smoke drawn through small cracks and holes that allow for more than adequate ventilation. This cave used to be the home of Distant Thunder, a Shadow Lord Galliard, and some say that his spirit still lingers here, protecting this spot.
You can leave the cave by crawling out the cave entrance to the south that leads down to the clearing below. A passageway leads deeper into the cave. No one is sure how deep it goes.
Contents:
Stacey
Obvious exits:
Clearing  

There are many places that offer shelter from the cold, winter weather, but Stacey has chosen a lesser known location today. Her time as a Guardian has taught her the stealth and awareness needed to make sure that her passage was not noted, and so now she crouches within the cave Kenneth had shown her, leaning back against its walls and waiting within the darkness for the Lord to return, if return he will. If not, well, at least she has some time to herself... Not that she doesn't get an abundance of that within the bawn.

And return he does, the Shadow Lord coming back in one piece after heading to the city. Out in the woods at the edge of the bawn, though, the halfmoon finds it prudent to be in his lupus form. It is by this shift that he detects Stacey's scent long before he comes into view. Claws click lightly against the worn dirt and stone, announcing him at least by sound. Added to that is a verbalized chuffing greeting. Walks-Middle? The Shadow Lord is silhouetted at the threshold, standing between light reflected off the quartz in the cave and the darkness that melds into its interior passages.

Stacey looks up at Kenneth's approach, then stands to her feet, placing a hand on the wall to keep her balance as she does so. "Yes, it's me." She starts to take a step toward the wolf, then stops and shifts down into her hispo form, the better to see within the dim light. ~I came to think, as well as to speak with you, if you happened by, Far-Cry.~

Far-Cry gives himself a shake. In the lupine forms, the scents of the city are far more prevalent, far more pungent. He's been by the Brownstone. A quick touch of his nose towards her shifted fur is what he offers by way of a more physical greeting. He turns afterwards and seats himself in the light. One ear turns towards the cave entrance, another towards the Child. He's listening, attentive on her, and curious.

Unlike the Shadow Lord, the Child has not set foot farther from the farm in nearly a year, and thus the scents of the woods are what greets him in turn. She also sits, her attention more upon him than the entrance, perhaps trusting him to catch any that may wander near. ~Change is in the wind once again, and although I know not fully how all will end, at least I partly see the path I would follow...~ She pauses, gathering her thoughts. ~Ridgeline is changing, soon to cease their watch over the Heart.~

Far-Cry's ear that was facing the entrance turns to join its twin facing the ahroun. The pack breaks apart? he whines in query, a concern edging itself out. That has his attention, and he peers directly at Walks-Middle.

Walks-Middle lowers her ears briefly at his whine, her own concern and sadness showing through for a moment before she shakes out her fur, resettling. ~In part. They are letting go of Glacier and starting anew, taking on a totem of War, it sounds. I will not be continuing on with them in this new pack.~

The relative silence is punctuated only with the sounds of their breathing and the quiet cry of a crow's caw further off. Far-Cry blinks to break himself out of the statuesque pause that's overcome him and scoots forward a pace, nose sticking forward in interest. Where will you go? To tend your cubs?

Walks-Middle flicks an ear toward the entrance at the mention of cubs. ~Yes... But they will not be cubs much longer, I hope. I will be arranging for their Rite soon. It is time that they are tried, pass or fail.~ Her attention returns to him as she adds simply, ~I wish to pack again.~

Far-Cry resettles, a low grunt of thoughtfulness and acceptance of the information showing through. The Child's eyes can spot his ears tipping back on mention of cubs and packs, as the talk seemingly affects him more than he'd think it does. It's another few moments before he looks back to her. Who will you look for? The Warder's pack to form?

~Uktena is not for me to follow,~ Walks-Middle growls firmly. ~That was made clear to me long ago, that the abyss is not for me to see, and Uktena would lead me to it.~ She lets out a huff of a breath, letting go of the tension and sadness that the memory of that warning brought with it. ~I have been considering forming a new pack. I have long served as a Guardian, perhaps it is time I also chose a new path, although not the path of war that my current packmates are choosing. Not yet, I think.~

Far-Cry can't sit up more than he already is, but the black wolf is rather stiff with a certain anticipation, picking up the tension and converting it to himself. You have chosen to walk the middle path before. Are you going to move away from it and make a new one?

Walks-Middle tilts her head to one side as she considers his question. ~I have walked the middle path of my auspice, perhaps now I will walk the middle path of my tribe. Perhaps I shall walk closer to the name that you gifted me.~ She stands to her feet then, her own anticipation barely contained, her weight shifting from one side to another before she steps forward. ~Would you run with me, Far-Cry? Would you help me make this new path? I know there are still many unanswered questions.~ Not the least of which is what totem and who else would be in the pack... ~But together, we could uncover the answers.~

Far-Cry, caught in between anticipation and balking, freezes. His ears slowly tilt forward at the hispo, and his tongue runs out to lick against his muzzle. I will, he answers in the end, standing and tail sticking up in growing confidence. I can.

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