March 2007 Moot
3/2/2007
05:57 PM
Logfile from GarouMUSH.
Currently the moon is in the waxing Full Moon phase (91% full).
It is currently 17:38 Pacific Time on Fri Mar 2 2007.
Currently in Saint Claire, it is raining lightly. The temperature is 42 degrees Fahrenheit (5 degrees Celsius). The wind is calm today. The barometric pressure reading is 30.19 and rising, and the relative humidity is 92 percent. The dewpoint is 40 degrees Fahrenheit (4 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), Jamethon (Reflection), Circle-Keeper (Ciuraq), Yi (Runner), Lefty (Ferret), Emma (Stone-Spirit), Blackriver (Katya), Horace (Untangler), Olga (Fat-Ripper), Basil (Kills-the-Cries), Jacob (Dance-Ender), Khem (Brightside), Abraxas (Bitter-Harvest), Morgan (Song-of-Luna), Kenneth (Far-Cry), Helen (Cycle-Breaker), Leslie (Treeclimber), Reggie (Rags), Dillen (Blood-Bane), Ruth (Trips-Over-Paws), Kristin (Fears-Pain), Mathias (Promises-Kept), Alesia (Nightmares) || NPCed: Cedric (Lightning, by Vera), Saul (No-Voice, by Vera), Jacinta (Pierces-the-Ice, by Circle Keeper), Michelle (Whistler, by Circle Keeper), Masao (Leaves-None, by Yi), Stacey (Walks-Middle, by Yi), Mathias (Promises-Kept, by Vera & Yi), Cole (Howls-For-Glory, by Blackriver)
Obvious exits:
Rock Slab Windy Spot WaterFall Steam Vents
Trips-Over-Paws pads towards the center of the Caern after emerging from among the ferns at the caern's edge. She pauses to stretch and yawn before turning around a couple of times then curling up to wait.
Song-of-Luna has been here for some time--in fact, she's been here since last night, though she hasn't actually been easily seen until most recently. The metis is squatting on her haunches, holding a smoothly carved stick in one of her lower, ill-formed arms. The stick itself is covered in Garou glyphs of all sorts, from tribal to auspice to things such as 'death' and 'charach'. As for the metis herself--she's, ah. Blue. There are blue swirls all over her fur, in various, somewhat childish looking patterns. Clearly, Song-of-Luna did her own decorating.
Lefty makes her way down into the caern from the trail by the waterfall. Brushing dirt on her pantleg, she scans the vast space, grinning as she comes toward the center.
Song-of-Luna brushes a smudge of blue away that's grown a little too close to one eye, and looks up, studying Lefty with both curiosity and not a little wariness. One ear turns back while the other perks up.
Far-Cry treads his way into the caern, footfalls quiet as a dark cloud, but sounds further masked by the waterfall's roar. The Shadow Lord halfmoon shifts once he's reached a section of the damp rocks, rising through the shapes into his warform. The others are regarded, though none are greeted yet.
Though they come from differing directions, Masao and Yi arrive nearly at the same time to stand together, almost forming a miniature gathering of the Bone Gnawers.
Walks-Middle the Child of Gaia elder also arrives, finding her cub and greeting her somewhat amiably, though the full moon clearly shows its influence on her tonight.
Bitter-Harvest arrives in crinos, looking, as usual, extremely on edge. He spares only a small glance for the others before he takes up his own spot. His own spot being, of course, the closest one he can find that is as far away from the others as possible.
Trips-Over-Paws uncurls and stands to give her Elder a proper greeting, then winds herself back down comfortably into her nice warm spot on the ground. She eyes Song-Of-Luna's blue-swirled fur with curiosity.
Song-of-Luna licks her muzzle and rocks forward into a standing position, still gripping her glyph covered stick tightly in one of her lower, too-small and too-human hands. There's a slowness to her movements tonight, as if she were thinking very carefully about each one. She moves into position in the same manner, unhurried, thoughtful.
Jacinta and Circle Keeper make their way down into the Caern, the pair coming in from the east. The Wendigo shifts to crinos after a few moments, inside, before the Uktena Fostern shifts to match forms. Circle Keeper leans heavily on his weapon, watching the assembly darkly.
Kills-the-Cries walks out of the woods in Crinos with a cheap cigar clamped in his muzzle between two large teeth, his head kept low to try to keep the rain away. The Gnawer drums his fingers on a large bone slung over his shoulder like a bat, his eye sweeping back and forth across the gathered Garou, looking for someone.
[Kills-the-Cries pages to the room: Looks like large leg or arm bone of some kind to those with an eye for such things.]
Bitter-Harvest looks less than pleased as more and more Garou arrive, though he keeps himself planted on his own little patch of ground in such a way as might suggest he half expects someone to come and boot him off of it. His ears flatten to either side in ill temper.
Untangler sits at the circle's edge, dumbly watching the Garou congregate with a strange mix of apprehension and disinterest in his posture, like he's waiting for something to happen and whatever it is, everything else is unimportant. He is still, and silent, and solitary; it's only when he sees Jacinta and Circle Keeper arrive that he shows signs of life or interest, trotting over towards the pair and submissively lying himself down behind them.
Michelle come skulking after her elders in lupus, looking more than a tad irritable. She glares at the assembly, and settles down next to Circle Keeper, tail curling around to cover her forepaws.
Song-of-Luna stands still for a moment, again looking ponderous, thoughtful. Her eyes flick over those arriving, and in doing so, she spots Kills-the-Cries. Any observer could tell when this is, because she gives a tiny, startled jerk of her head, and for a moment, she simply stares at him. Then, the moment broken, the blue-patterned Fianna straightens up, grips her stick very tightly, and howls.
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 greet your brothers and sisters and the Mirror Lady!~
Circle Keeper throws a nasty look towards his Ragabash Packmate, but Bug's howl cuts off any further hostilities he might direct at Horace. Jacinta silently acknowledges her tribemate, as Horace arrives.
Emma arrives to the caern center, glancing around for pack or tribemate. Finding only the latter for now, she moves to stand near Dillen, quiet and tense, as she so often is, here at moot time.
Wildfire arrives as a group. Blackriver coming in lupus, and the other three in homid, chatting to each other in soft tones. Dillen looks like he's beaming with happiness, surveying the crowd with a grin that almost looks funny next to the scowls of everyone else.
Olga comes into the Caern down one of the western trails, awkwardly trying to balance her large orange bag over one shoulder as she carefully picks her way. She's late, but despite the apprehension shown in her wince, she takes care not to hurry down the steep slope. She reaches the bottom already in Crinos, loping up towards the centre with her bag clutched tight in one massive paw, howling belatedly as she goes.
Dillen gives a nod to Emma and leans in to whisper something to his fellow Get. Still, his grin is quite obvious.
Brightside heads down the path without much effort, lupine feet well used to trecherous footings all across the world. He makes his way once down in the Caern proper towards the center to sit among the others.
Lefty glances behind her, watching her alpha move ponderously down the slope. She gives Olga a grin as the theurge comes closer, then with a swift blur the ragabash also takes the war form.
By the waterfall, Jamethon blurs into being at the waterfall's pool. And simply stands there, looking into the water.
Kills-the-Cries pauses in mid step when he hears the howl and lifts his free paw up to grab his cigar. The cigar's cherry flares brightly in the dark as he takes a huge puff, then expels the smoke along with a howl. Putting the cigar back in his teeth, the Crinos waves the end of the bone he's brought at Morgan.
Dillen moves up into the warform and lets loose with a howl of complete pride and gusto, lifting his arms into the sky.
Blackriver settles down on a patch of grass and gives a yawn, running her big fleshy tongue across her teeth. She gives Kills-the-Cries a glance and then a snort, before her attention wanders over to the others at the moot.
From the same direction as the Warder, a far less familiar face arrives. Hands skulked into his pockets, Jacob moves in to the gathering area and begins taking stock of who is there and the general feel of the event. He's stiff, and rather withdrawn, and his gaze seems to search out for familiar faces among the crowd.
By the waterfall, Jamethon gives a growl over towards Kills-the-Cries' arrival and uses a thumb of one hand into the palm of the other gesture, where he rubs it into the palm like he was putting out... say, a cigar.
Leslie is less scowling than simply thoughtful and reserved, the large deer bone she carries held in one hand and vaguely wiggling back and forth in her grip. She lingers towards the back of the group, her reserve growing more apparent as she approaches the rest of the Sept and takes a seat with her packmates.
Far-Cry continues to stand in silence, observing with a cold gaze the others who come in. The occasional flick of his ears and tail set him off from just being a black furred statue.
Yi and Masao speak quietly amongst themselves, all up until the Call to Moot at which point the fostern ragabash glances up. Her spotting of Kills-the-Cries sends brows arching up into her hair. Surprise overrides her greetings to Olga, as well as Lefty. A hand goes to Sao's shoulder, as if to use the smaller no-moon to help keep her from falling over.
Walks-Middle nudges her cub lightly, a greeting given in friendliness, and she too settles down to observe the proceedings.
Song-of-Luna's howl is rough and loud as always, though she holds it much longer than she usually tends to in other circumstances. There's something a bit...larger? about her tonight. Maybe it's just the fact that she's not skulking. Maybe it's a small trace of better blood at odds with her obvious immediate ancestry. Maybe it's just the weird blue all over her. Either way, when she finally ends her howl, there's something different about her in the half moment or so that she pauses. Then, spreading all four arms wide, especially her lower two, as if to punctuate the matter, she turns toward Lefty and fairly snarls, ~Garou shall not mate with Garou!~
Ferret positions herself opposite Song of Luna, the newest and yet oldest Gnawer rising up proudly to take the Fool's place. As the Fianna galliard starts to recite the Litany, the ragabash looks over the assembled sept, taking in their familiar and unfamiliar faces. ~Most of you don't know me yet, but you will. And listen good to what I have to say, because it's the /truth/.~ Crouching a little from her elevated position, she seems to get intimate with her listening audience. ~Let's face it, Brothers and Sisters, we're losing. These 'laws' she's on about? They don't matter so much anymore. They're antiquated! Meaningless! What we have to do now is come together and take care of ourselves. And, brothers and sisters, if we can't find company among ourselves, we're not gonna find it anywhere. Am I right?~ From her tone, she's deadly serious.
Kills-the-Cries glances over at Jamethon when he hears his growl and waves, crouching over slightly to take one last long drag off the cigar. The Ahroun leans his bone against himself and collects all the ashes into his paw. The cigar is put out on the bone, and eaten when cool. The ash itself is used with spit to draw a quick and dirty rat with slits for eyes on his arm, seemingly unaware of the laws being recited.
Blackriver lets out a loud snarl, boiling up into hispo as she answers the fool. ~Our laws make us! Without our laws we are /nothing/ and we fall quickly to the Wyrm!~
Culls-The-Herd stands near the rock slab, a large leather bag in one clawed hand and waist-pouch resting against one hip. That bag is not the most pleasant smelling thing in creation, but the tightly. As the Fool and Caller begin their age-old ritual, she sets the bag down and focuses her attention on them. ~And in one generation we will be gone!~ Culls' responds to the fools words. ~As nothing but sterile abominations will result from seeking such comfort! What of our Kinfolk? Are they not Family as well? Seek comfort from them, not your fellow Garou!~
By the waterfall, Jamethon rises to Crinos and yells out, ~We would be nothing but sterile retards, pissing and drooling on ourselves in the face of the Wyrm's hatred! Some force for Gaia we would become!~
~Our laws are to protect us! They are to be followed or else we might as well wander the streets in crinos and let the people use us for fodder in the science rooms!!~ Bloods-Bane growls out to the fool.
Song-of-Luna doesn't respond verbally. She turns toward the gathered Garou and merely spreads her lower, too-short arms a little further, as far as she can manage, with the glyph covered stick clutched tightly in the right hand. Her teeth bare just a little, and her nose wrinkles.
"Claim that the laws do not matter because they are inconvenient, and you dismiss the commands of Gaia herself. Dismiss Gaia herself, and you dismiss your reason for existence." Leslie chimes in with the others, although she does not shift up to Crinos yet, making herself a tiny figure drowned out among the hordes.
Fat-Ripper, perhaps to make up for her tardiness, gets into the howling with vim and vitriol. ~Maybe _you_ can't get anything without fur,~ she howls testily back, as she finds her place and lets her bag drop. ~But some of us still got a chance!~
~You may as well kill yourself and hope you are reborn as a piece of dirt, if you can't find other ways to overcome the Curse,~ Far-Cry growls thickly, turning his cold eyed gaze upon tonight's Fool.
Ferret takes the verbal abuse with a yellow-toothed grin, as if it only fed her ardor.
Brightside tenses and shakes his head at all the calling. ~There is comfort... and then there is a lie. Gaia meant for us to live among our human brothers and sisters. To deny them is to live in that lie.~
Kills-the-Cries doesn't say a thing though a close observer might see him biting on one of his chops. He doesn't lower his head however, and rests in a crouch with his arms hanging off his knees, and a facial expression that would be at home on Al Bundy.
Song-of-Luna 's recitation continues once the retorts have started to die down, loud, growling. Combat the Wyrm. Respect the territory of another. She tosses the glyph covered stick and catches it with one of her natural hands this time, then points it like a baton at Ferret. ~Accept an honorable surrender!~
Jacob remains on the fringe of the moot, listening and watching. His eyes are intent upon the Fool, and he watches with intense focus as the members of the sept make their rebuttals.
As the Caller continues reciting the Litany, Lefty waits patiently to answer with her retorts. When the galliard belts out the fourth Law, respect an honorable surrender, the ragabash begins to laugh. It's loud and exaggerated, but also quite sincere. Her words are practically spit out of her muzzle when they come. ~Honorable surrender, pah! You have someone down who's been trying to rip your throat out for the last three minutes, then you make /sure/ he can't bite you in the ass when you're back is turned! You finish it! No matter what. That, brothers and sisters, is survival of the fittest.~
~We challenge each other to determine who leads. Leaders need followers. Those who kill the followers are not leaders!~ Blackriver snaps back, ears slicking back in irritation.
Once she's recovered from seeing Basil present, Yi slips through the throng to stand beside him. As yet unshifted beyond her birthform, the ragabash looks at him in silence.
Far-Cry snorts, raising his voice yet again in rebuttal. ~Survival of the fittest? How long will you last against those fitter than you? Without this law you so despise, you would be dead before you could beg for mercy against our number.~
Brightside is spitting in anger with the refutal to the fool, ~You doom us all, Fool! In no time at all we would be nothing but the strongest... what, five Garou? Easily crushed like a ferret nibbling at the heels of gods!~
Leslie leans back on the grass, planting one end of the bone she carries against the ground like a pole, "And if every challenge result in death, all the Wyrm need do is wait for us to destroy ourselves, Fool."
~Because if we accept that surrender they may fight again tomorrow! Lead by example. Teach them to fight the fight and win!~ Bloods-Bane retorts.
Whistler looks around at the gathering and then belts out her retort. ~If they're smart enough to know when to surrender, then they aren't the weakest!~
Untangler is practically invisible behind his Crinos packmates, but his howl carries past them, slow, smooth, and terribly derisive. He howls out his scorn for the fool's argument, and how survival isn't what matters, it's honours and traditions and the people - a bit incongruous for a Ragabash perhaps, but there it is.
By the waterfall, The Warder gives a good roaring out, ~Challenging is a way of life for the Garou! It is how we live amongst each other, as we are the wolves of Gaia!
Song-of-Luna continues onward, growing a bit louder as each law is recited, and the gleam in her eyes a bit brighter. She's enjoying herself, very clearly enjoying herself. ~Respect for Those Below Ye in Station,~ she howls in Ferret's direction like a challenge. ~-All Are of Gaia!~
The Caller rings out more laws, and the old, one handed ragabash offers her unique rebuttals. Then, Song-of-Luna comes to the eighth law--respect for those beneath you. Here, Lefty grows defensive and angry, her tone sharp like a viper's sting and very serious. ~Oh, who are we kidding!~ she yells, ~Respect for those beneath you? That's a joke. We're garou! If you can't bite back, you don't deserve to live. That's the way of it. I should know!~ Here she holds up her stumped arm. ~You survive any way you can! As a Gnawer I know there's no respect for those of us on the bottom, so brothers and sisters, take whatever you can, whenever you can! .. and HOWEVER you can!~
"And how then are we different from the Wyrm, if we fight not for Gaia but for ourselves?" Leslie's question is shouted hoarsely this time, but it's loudeer than her previous responses.
Blackriver growls loudly. ~If you are higher, if you are a leader, it is your job to care for those beneath you. You cannot do this if you do not respect them.~
Yi abruptly breaks her gaze from watching Kills-the-Cries at a particular part of the Fool's response. Unable, or unwanting, to resist the bait, she stretches up into her Crinos form and howls back. ~A Gnawer most of all should appreciate this law! Those of us on the bottom know how it feels to be downtrodden. Why make those beneath /us/ feel worse? It makes you no better than those who would step on your head! Why bite the ankles of those who would reach their hand down to help you up?~
~If we show no respect how can we expect to receive it!~ Bloods-Bane yells into the other words that fill the sky.
By the waterfall, Reflection calls out once more, ~It is the hopes of every /good/ leader that those they lead shall one day rise up and /surpass/ them! This is impossible if you show no respect.~
Fat-Ripper crows out ~All are of Gaia!~ with smug chin raised and her claws stuck out at right angles, as if it were a point of personal pride. ~Whether an anruth -~ and here her sharp yellow eyes stare at Jacob for a moment, ~a charach -~ and here, quite pointedly, she looks at no one in particular, ~a fool -~ that would be Lefty, ~or even a smoker!~ Her eyes linger longest on Kills-the-Cries. ~All of us! Disrespect any of us, and you disrespect part of her.~
Circle Keeper's been shouting down the fool as they went along, the Uktena not making many arguments worth really noting. Now doesn't seem very different ~All are of gaia! As much respect as each deserves!~
The metis keeps going, calling out laws only to be refuted by the Fool, who in turn is shouted down by the gathered Garou. The Veil Shall Not Be Lifted. The Leader May Not Be Challenged in Time of War. And finally, as she comes to the last law, Song-of-Luna draws herself up very straight, with her second pair of arms crossed over her middle and her more natural pair gripping the glyph covered stick together. She lifts the stick over her head, points her muzzle upward, and snarls the final law to the sky itself. ~Ye shall take NO action that causes a Caern to be violated!~
Ferret's serious demeanor continues. The galliard calls out laws, and the new ragabash responds. When the last law is read, Lefty nods to the galliard's words soberly, but then she starts to shake her head instead. Lifting her good arm to gesture at the crowd and get their attention, she calls out, ~Who's to say what 'violates' a caern? I've been places where my very /presence/ would be considered a violation. Why should I care, then? I say we do whatever we want as long as it /feels/ right!~ With a wicked grin, she looks directly at the most sacred thing at the center of the caern--the quartz-riddled, glinting white sacred stone. ~Hey, ya ever have sex on one of those? I gotta tell ya...heh...it's quite a ride.~
Circle Keeper's lips curl back, as he suddenly belts out, ~The GRANDMOTHER decides what is defilement! You not tell her otherwise!.~
Far-Cry straightens considerably, only a deep snarl of rage burrowing itself into the air from his muzzle in response to the Fool. The flash of his fangs as his lips peel back is quite clearly a warning. That's just pushing it.
At this, Leslie's shout becomes derisive, and she finally shifts to warform to join the others to adequately express her outrage. ~Get a room, Fool! There are better places to sate your lust. Without the few places we have leeft that are still of Gaia, we are certainly doomed.~
Dillen glares up at the fool. ~I'll polish it with your blood for such words!~ His grinning face is now shooting rays of complete rage at the Fool.
Kills-the-Cries snorts when he hears Olga's words then half smirks when he hears Lefty. But still he stays silent, snatching up his bone and heading towards his Tribemates.
By the waterfall, Reflection slams the butt of the spear at his side into the ground and roars out, ~The Caern is her Heart! You damn Gaia herself to death with those words!~
Blackriver's lips peel back into a loud snarl, and her fur bristles in anger. She looks like she's ready to attack if the fool so much as takes a step towards the stone.
Trips-Over-Paws has watched quietly, not adding must to the voices of rebuttal aside from the occasional soft wuff of agreement with the more vocal garou; but she does wonder, in the soft speech of the wolf that also displays her distaste for the Fool's suggestion, whether the Fool lifted the Veil or broke the First Law while also breaking the last one.
Song-of-Luna gives something of a double-take toward Ferret, though she keeps her glyph-covered stick up in the air. Clearly, this is one she hasn't heard before. Her nose wrinkles and her lips curl back, while her neckfur bunches up at the nape. ~You haven't done that, because if you had you would be dead!~ And that makes perfect sense to her.
Ferret's eyes gleam darkly in the full moon's light. The fool feeds off their reaction, once again showing her teeth but making no further comments. The fur on the older Gnawer's back bristles with the energy she's created.
Untangler can't even properly respond. His howl is of indignation and personal violation, and his Lupus suddenly bursts into Crinos, his claws scrape the clay and he lurches onto two legs to stutter forward, rage almost snapping the bonds of will. Eventually, only long seconds later, does blind frenzy fade into a sort of bewildered injury.
Song-of-Luna finally slicks her ears back and lowers her stick, a wordless end to her official part in the moot. She starts off into the crowd, and it's only a few steps before the whateveritwas that seemed different about her to fade. Now she's just Bug, and she heads in the general direction of Kills-the-Cries, though not without obvious hesitation.
Ferret drops down from her elevated position as well, the fool moving carefully through the crowd toward Olga. She gives her alpha a little wink and something different seems to settle over the ragabash as well. Where before she was serious and sharp, now she seems relaxed and friendly.
By the waterfall, The Warder stands now in crinos, with his Chimeric spear held out at his side, planted firmly on the ground. A few deep huffs of breath to calm him and turning to face the waterfall, he steps foward into the mist of the water crashing down. He takes the spear and using the dull end, stirs the pool in a figure-eight. ~Chimera. The Ever-Changing. With honor I step before you, the Warder of your Caern. I call you.~ The spear is suddenly jerked from his hand, and stands straight up in the center of the pool. Reflection's-Howl steps back and roars out again, ~Chimera! Lady of Mirrors! Your Sept has gathered at your Caern. We have kept you hidden. We have kept you safe. Again, we moot in the shadow and light of your glorious wisdom!~ Here he howls out, and turning around during this howl raises his arms in open invitation for the rest of the Sept to join in the call.
Circle Keeper raises his voice, the gatekeeper tipping his head back as he howls to the Mirrored Lady.
Dillen lifts his own head to chime in and howl with the others.
Blackriver tips her head back and belts out a howl with no obvious rhyme or reason.
And Treeclimber joins in that call with a will. It seems to have taken her a while to be drawn into the spirit of the Moot, but drawn she is, and a howl of welcome bursts forth from her with her usual moon-fueled intensity.
Song-of-Luna hasn't even managed to reach Kills-the-Cries yet. She turns around, facing the Warder and the spectacle at the water, and joins her howl to the others, though not without a very happy sounding exclamation of ~Mirror Lady!~
Culls-The-Herd points her muzzle toward the sky, howling at the top of her lungs.
Ferret's muzzle lifts toward the sky as she offers her own voice to the song of those gathered.
Jacob lets out a snort as the calling continues, and were it not for the half dazed look in his gaze, the emotion and rush of rage might be bordering on the unhealthy. Finally the taunting ends, and the howls are lifted up to the sky. He remains quiet, and in homid, resting against the tree where he's staked his claim for the night.
Trips-Over-Paws lifts her head, then lifts it higher still as she swells from the wolf-form into the war-form, joining the howl with more will than skill or volume.
Whistler howls as well with a sort of unrefined eagerness.
Bitter-Harvest draws his lips back from his teeth and releases a loud, angry howl of his own. Welcoming? Given who it's coming from, this is probably his version of it.
Kills-the-Cries jerks his head back in greeting to Morgan and Lefty, gesturing for Morgan to sit down beside him. ~Glad I came all the way down to China town. You did well.~ He looks to Lefty then instead of speaking, he lets out another dull but loud howl to the sky.
Rags quietly joins Basil's side during the calling. After tossing a few insults along the lines of ~Gaaarrggh~ towards the Fool, Rags brightens as the call starts, and adds his howl to the crowd's.
Brightside raises his voice in howling along with the others. A near perfect dischord in that it finds a place in the howl that was not yet filled, and as other howls get near to the Strider's, he modulates his own to be unique among it.
Far-Cry's composure returns for a short time once the Fool has left the spotlight. The bid to howl serves as a welcome distraction, and the Shadow Lord lets go his own deep baying.
Runner pauses at a spot beside the rest of her packmates, glances at Masao and the pair join their voices to the crowd.
Walks-Middle adds her own cry to the chorus of howls, gazing sidelong at her cub before focusing on the rite to open the inner sky.
Untangler vents everything, all his recent confusion and ferocity, into the unifying, obliterating catharsis of the howl. His voice is long and slow and terribly loud, and he maintains it at its height for the longest time.
Song-of-Luna looks not a little uncomfortable at Basil's words, but she's saved from having to give any actual response by the ritual currently going on. She continues howling, loud and long.
By the waterfall, The spear starts to... melt? No, just warp, it curves first forward towards the warder, then recurves back higher up. It also shrinks slightly, and turns a deep red like cooling lava in color as it hardens into something like ivory. It appears to be like the horn of a great and giant beast... which in fact it is. The Caern shakes like thunder. Boom. Boom. Boom. This as the horn rises from the water, attached to it the giant stark white head of a horse with eyes like a pool of blood, the mane are like some cross between scales and feathers, a bright orange in hue, that cascades down it's back. From this mane come more great dark red horns, that stick straight out until they curve back at the ends. The first hoof, a monstrous shimmering red thing like a flame burning underwater, pulls from the water and strikes land, nearly shaking the less sturdy Garou off their feet. The body behind the mane covering the neck are pure purple scales, dark and soothing in nature compared to the fiery essence of the front of the body. A second hoof strikes land and again, footing is nearly lost by all. Further it comes, slowly, a third hoof. Boom! And then the fourth. BOOM! And indeed some do find they can not handle it, falling to the ground below. At the end of the purple scaled body, begins a tail which emerges with the Chimera like a writhing snake. The purple scales fade into blue, then a sea green, then the scales themselves seems to merge together into one giant reddish-green hard shell for the last three-feet of the tail. As the beast emerges totally from the water, a bright green flame unfurls from the center horn of the head down the middle of her back and all the way till the tip of the tail where it bursts into a morningstar of flames. This is the Chimera known as Kirin.
Reflection pages to the Caern: Not /exactly/ like this, but damn close. | http://www.wizards.com/magic/images/mtgcom/wallpapers/Wallpaper_SkyfireKirin_1280x960.jpg
Blackriver's howl dies down as something starts to emerge from the water, and she suddenly snaps to attention, staring at the Kirin with a mixture of awe and fear.
Dillen watches as things unfold and after all of it, one word slips from the Gallaird's lips, "Whoa."
Whistler's eyes go wide and she leans towards the creature emerging from the water, utterly awe-struck.
Culls-The-Herd's ears lay back as her shoulders hunch and her body lowers as she bows, showing respect to the spirit of the Caern.
Treeclimber's howl likewise dies down as the Kirin appears. This is...different. She falls silent, and seems to simply be...waiting, eyeing the creature with some confusion before bowing herself.
Bitter-Harvest draws back a step, whiskers sweeping along his muzzle. He stares, bluntly awe-struck, at the representation of Chimera that has pulled itself from the pool. All traces of his former temper are simply gone in the face of this.]
Ferret stares at the emerging spirit in similar awe. So struck is the Gnawer that she, indeed, is one of those that loses her balance. she must scramble to pick herself up, the entire time unable to take her eyes from the presence of the totem spirit.
Rags' howl splutters and fades and he lowers his muzzle for a better view of the Chimera at the pool, and he forgets to breathe.
Despite being crouched, Trips-Over-Paws manages to take a hasty step backwards and to one side. The Gaian cub, it would seem, is hiding behind her Elder. She peers with wide, wide eyes over Walks-Middle's shoulder, tail tucked in, and whines.
Song-of-Luna's howl is cut off completely for a long few moments, as she takes in the Kirin. Then, she howls again, a joyful, welcoming sound. For once she doesn't seem afraid at all.
Brightside's howl fades as he steps forward to get a better look at the ritualist's work. Then at the first boom takes a good three steps back. An appoximation of ~Holy fuck,~ is really the only thing the Strider can seem to offer at the moment.
Kills-the-Cries's howl dies off with a slight cough before the thing even starts to come out of the pool. It takes him a minute to clear his throat, but when he does see the Totem he bows his head enough to show respect, without taking his eye off it. ~My God. It's full of scales.~ He murmurs loud enough to be heard within a short distance.
By the waterfall, Reflection's-Howl has already backed quite away from the emerging Kirin and kneels before it in reverence. The Kirin rears up on it's hind legs and tail whipping wildly, gives a great roar, nothing like a beast on this earth. It is both deep and high in pitch, a shrill caw mixed with a bass so low it shakes the ground once more. With this it leaps up and gallops across the air towards the center where it actually finds a place to stand beside the Alpha. After a bow of the Kirin's great head towards Vera, it settles to facing the Sept just as she does. There is a definite heat coming from it, but not too intense to bear, and not in any way dry. Reflection's-Howl stands and turns towards the gathered Garou and offers, almost redundantly given what everyone just witnessed, ~The Inner Sky is Open! Let us Moot!~
Jacob startles completely at this, and it is only the trees firm rooting that keeps him from any overly obvious motion. He watches with awe though, and as the call to moot comes, he turns his attention on the Garou of Hidden Walk.
Bitter-Harvest continues staring. His mouth is even slightly open. The Shadow Lord looks completely and utterly taken with what he is seeing.
Finally, Treeclimber seems to recover her wits and stands to her full eight-foot height, picking up the large deer bone and holding it as easily as a child holds a pencil. One last glance at the Chimera totem, and she walks to the rock outcropping climbing up onto it and turning to face the assembled Garou. ~As a hungry cub cracks open a bone to find the sweet marrow within, so do we find the truth within the bone of contention. Before our totem and Gaia, let us sort our business and resolve our problems.~ So saying, she takes the bone in both hands and breaks it as a child breaks a pencil, lifting both splintered halves to the sky before looking expectantly at the assembled Sept. ~Who has business to bring before the Sept?~
Eyes wide and nostrils flaring, Culls-The-Herd retains her composure before the huge spirit. If barely. As the bones are cracked, the Sept Alpha steps up to receive them. Holding them above her head, the Shadow Lord speaks clearly and loudly. ~Tonight, once all have given their announcements, the Rite of Satire will be performed on Mathias Promises-Kept.~ Simple message given, Vera steps down.
Circle Keeper's lips curl up at that news. His ears scoop forward, the fostern clearly displeased with the news. The Gatekeeper also casts a very wary look at Vera.
It is this simple statement that brings a dark scowl to the visiting Gaian. Jaws clench and face reddens as he looks on to the Shadow Lord and her comment. Jacob's gaze searches for Mathias, contemplating.
Blackriver looks rather unhappy, fur bristling as the hispo shifts her weight around. She glares at Vera and then at Mathias and Cedric in turn.
Treeclimber's reserve isn't quite as good in this form as her normally inscrutable homid sself, and her ears lay back at the announcement, but she says nothing, simply nodding respectfully to the Alpha and taking the bones back. ~Noted. You will perform the Rite, or will another?~
Far-Cry, having previously dropped himself to a three point stance to ride out the shaking ground, stands again once the Chimera spirit finds its place beside the Sept Alpha. He takes his eyes away from the creature reluctantly, though refocuses upon Vera when the announcement is given. A pointed glance is sent in Treeclimber's direction, then Blackriver's, and back to the Fury Truthcatcher.
Kills-the-Cries leans forward on his bone, one hand over the other as if it were the pommel of a sword he was resting on. He seems rather impassive about the whole goings on, but far more interested in the spirit, and Bug.
~I will,~ is Culls' easy answer. ~As I am the only one who knows it.~
Bitter-Harvest has regained his composure. He's watching the proceedings now, with an unreadable expression on his face. As Vera makes her announcement, his gaze flicks from Garou to Garou, studying their reactions. His own seems to be mostly indifference.
Fat-Ripper winces at the announcement, giving Mathias a look of sympathy, though the same sort of sympathy with which one watches out the window at a car wreck as one passes. She stares for longer than is polite, and then turns back to the bone.
Mathias in the meanwhile, is doing his best to be overlooked, but is in fact present and silent as a grave in a cemetery deserted by its own ghosts.
~As you wish.~ Treeclimber's ears are still flat against her head, but that's the major indicator of her true feelings as she turns to look acrosss the gathered faces of the Sept. ~Others?~
Pierces the Ice, features taut with rage, steps forward to take the bones. She stands straight, gaze carrying over the crowd but not alighting on any in particular. ~You "qussaks" can not follow the ways. You Charach, you mewl, you defile others' territory. I resign as your Master of the Challenge. Find another to cry to, for I will not listen to you any longer.~ Then she seeks out her beta and lets her focus rest on him for a moment. ~Circle Keeper will speak for the pack.~ Returning the bones, she passes to the edge of the caern before turning to watch the rest of the Moot, arms crossed over her chest.
Song-of-Luna flattens her ears. She glances at Kills-the-Cries for just a moment, before looking back to Jacinta, and then, inexplicably, to Jamethon. In fact, it's at Jamethon that she looks the longest, though there's nothing in her body language to explain why.
By the waterfall, Reflection steps forward now, towards the center. At the announcement from Vera he only shakes his head in disgust. At Jacinta's last words, and only at her words of resignment he stops at the edge of the center. He looks genuinely hurt, perhaps even insulted.
Untangler, the ferocity dragged out of him by the howl and Chimera's ensuing appearance, echoes Pierces-the-Ice's sentiment, though not her vitriol. He crouches there, growling faintly and unthreateningly, as if to say, simply, at all the qussaks in the audience, Yeah!
Blackriver's ears go up in surprise and then her gums peel back in anger. She stands up, and motions for the bones.
Bitter-Harvest's eyes narrow. He doesn't look 'indifferent' now, though there are no growls from his corner. He leans forward, watching intently.
Kills-the-Cries lifts his eyebrows and his lips curl slightly in a snarl that could be seen as a smirk. He glances at Yi, then gestures his head towards Jacinta, before looking back at Bug and beckoning her to come sit with them.
Treeclimber's tail switches back and forth. ~Very well then.~ Her voice is tight with rage. ~We will find another.~ Unspoken in her words is a sense of 'good riddance'. ~Save the insults, though, unless you wish to accuse another of crimes against the LItany.~ As her packmates stands to take the bones, she looks over, and offers them to the Silver Fang.
Song-of-Luna, however, doesn't move toward Basil. She stays in place, watching Jamethon very, very intently. Likely she didn't even see his gesture.
Dillen watches as Jacinta speaks her words and then shakes his head slowly and lets out a long sigh. He looks between Leslie and Blackriver, waiting.
Runner's ears stand up quite suddenly and all her hackles lift along her nape, fur puffing and jaws parting into a pant. For a moment she nearly misses Kills' gesturing. That seems to be enough to spur her forward, though Blackriver reaches the Truthcatcher first.
Trips-Over-Paws's ears flick this way and that, head turning as she tries to follow the events as they unfold. Faint concern and a little confusion mark her expression, and her eyes fix on each speaker in turn.
Reflection continues stepping forward now, shaking out his fur from feet to ear. The Warder moves on, now towards Treeclimber, a slow and deliberate pace as the massive Crinos walks while others continue to speak.
Blackriver pads forward and shifts up into crinos to take the bones, turning to face the crowd. ~If Pierces-Ice leaves her post, then I will take up the job of my auspice and claim the Master of Challenge.~ She flicks and ear and then gives the bones back to Treeclimber.
Jacob takes in a deep breath as this small eruption of chaos and rage flares. His arms fold across his chest as he remains leaned upon the tree, eyes watching the garou in question.
Reflection only offers a nod to Blackriver as he continues, moving through the crowd on his way towards the bones.
Now impassive again, Treeclimber listens and flicks an ear in acknowledgement. ~Any who wish to Challenge may declare now, but the challenge will be resolved later. If none object, I will judge all such challenges for this time only.~ Both bones are held in a single paw now, though the hold is precarious. She looks around the Sept, silent now but waiting for any to step forward.
As words and bones are exchanged between Garou, the chimera sitting in the circle begins to wisp away, its flesh and substance going flittering off from it like candlesmoke or sand in brisk wind. Once it settled down it watched the proceedings with an impassivity bordering on boredom, its gorgeous eyes gone glazed and disinterested, and it doesn't seem to have managed more than five minutes even of that. Its colours wash together, a muddied and disjointed pallete, purple scales transposed with red fire and green claws and then all those colours are replaced with only reflections, a thousand fractured images of the Garou displayed in the throes of their social rites and contained rage. The mirror creature turns to glass and then to nothing, disappearing with suddeness and no ceremony. Within seconds it's gone, leaving only a lingering sense of its clinging wet warmth, and even that is fast in fading.
Reflection calls up towards Treeclimber from where he pushes forward through the crowd while Chimera fades, ~I object. The Warder will hold the Master of the Challenge's place until this has been resolved.~ His voice, while perhaps officially out of turn holds a tone of finality, anger and rage, controlled through great effort.
Between his obvious anger and his sudden interest in the proceedings, there's a glimmer of regret in Bitter-Harvest's posture as the Kirin appears to melt away. He turns a sharp, clenched-jaw look toward Reflection as he speaks.
Culls-The-Herd blinks, ears pressing forward and hackles lifting as Jamethon objects.
Runner, on her way forward to the Truthcatcher, pauses briefly to witness the Chimera spirit's disappearance. An expression crosses her features like she'd been stabbed, but the pain is evident, almost physical. After another beat, she shakes her head, resuming her course.
Rags' attention twists from the debate over Challenging to the vanishing Chimera, and he anxiously nudges Kills and Song-of-Luna, as he stares desolately at the empty spot left by the Kirin.
Kills-the-Cries looks over at Rags when he's nudged, then looks back to the spot where the spirit disappeared. The Garou lifts his hands up in a shrug.
Nightmares has been the quiet cub but when Chimera fades, her Crinos face falls with it, from a passive looking form watching everything with interest into something of a mask of worry and concern, and maybe a bit of sadness.
Brightside literally reaches out towards the spirit as it fades, like he could grab it and make it stay. The vision gone now, he shakes his head, and looks down, a hand reaching up to scratch at his forehead.
Trips-Over-Paws is slow to notice the spirit's disappearance. It is the reactions of others that finally alert her, and she turns in time to catch a final glimpse. Surprise, sorrow, and then intense thoughtfulness cross her lupine features, her ears canting backwards, head front, eyes almost glazed as she retreats into herself and sits back in silence.
Treeclimber glances briefly at the fading Kirin as it fades away, but levels a stern and firm glance at the Warder. ~Warder, your objection is acknowledged and respected, but you speak out of turn. You shall take Master of the Challenge, and all shall challenge you for it if you wish, but I do not think it appropriate that the Master of the Challenge be the onee to adjudicate such challenges for his own position. Therefore, I will serve as impartial observe to any such challenges.~
She is silent a moment, and holds the bones a moment longer before continuing. ~I think that in light of this discussion, I wish to call all those -born- under the half moon to Moot at the waning half moon. Meet in the usual location.~ She leans slightly on 'born' as if making the statement pointed.
Far-Cry lifts his muzzle at the announcement of the halfmoon moot, ears twisting in interest. Otherwise, though, he continues on his silent role.
Blackriver bows her head at the Warder's words, and looks between him and Leslie, silently acknowledging the call for a halfmoon moot.
Brightside gives a nod to the call for halfmoons to moot.
Fears-Pain listens, she's silent on this, this was the affair of the adults, though her tail wags a moment, as she listens talons clicking against the stone.
Runner finally reaches the Truthcatcher and takes the bones rather gently for all the stressed look to the lay of her fur. Then, turning to face the crowd, her muzzle lifts into a roar of a howl, straining itself to be heard. ~Listen!~ She raises the bones high over her head and clacks them hard together, hard enough to cause the cracked ends to splinter even more, sending sharp shards onto the ground. ~Did you hear what I heard? Did you see what I saw? These bones I hold, they are like our sept. Cracked. Splintered.~ She gnashes her teeth, ears flattened against her head as she looks around. ~Weakening. Is /this/ what we show our cubs? Is /this/ how we act towards our septmates? Perhaps it is true, what I hear from others. 'The Hidden Walk is full of fools, charachs, and those who would see their metis hold rank.' But since my coming, I have witnessed more than I could dream of. And still, I am treated to knowing I live every day with those of this sept, standing watchful and guarding /this place/ with every breath.~ Her eyes scan the others, clutching the ends.
Bitter-Harvest gives a very low, irritable growl, though at just what he doesn't bother to make clear. Either way, Runner's words get a sharp look.
Blackriver's ears twitch in thought, and she gives a soft growl at no one in particular.
Ferret's job of playing the fool is done. Now the Gnawer raggie watches the discussion and arguing with a keen, thoughtful eye. Her gaze lingers most on those she's not yet met before, as if studying and sizing them up.
Circle Keeper watches the exchange with increasing anger, and the Uktena, even as Yi talks, begins to look impatient.
Reflection stops short as Runs-The-Gauntlet takes up the bones and gives full attention to the Ragabash. His eyes narrow, but he shows no increase to his rage or impatience.
Fat-Ripper watches her tribemate with tentative curiosity, and maybe just a little guilt - but she watches her, all the same, and though her ears flick back she doesn't avert her eyes.
Kills-the-Cries bows his head with that same slight curl on his shops that he's been holding for some time, though his eye rests on her, most of his face is concealed by the bone held to the ground in front of his muzzle.
Runner then turns towards where Jacinta had gone, to Ridgeline's members, to the Warder and then to the others. One end of the bone gestures towards Circle Keeper and his packmates. ~Those who have guarded the caern so faithfully do not deserve your ire. Pierces-the-Ice has followed the Warder diligently. She brought Ridgeline from nothing. Her tribe and the Uktena stand strong, firm, to guard the mountains and our bawn. The Wendigo once held this caern! The Ways they know are old, true, but they have kept strong with every generation I have seen come by here.~ Her stand turns again, to the gathered. ~So to hear that one so knowing is so disgusted with Us, pains me. I would ask why, but I need but look around, watch and listen.~ She lowers her gaze a moment, and then raises it again. ~Chimera may very well be laughing at us from the other side of the Gauntlet, Hidden Walk. But here is where I ask you all to stop and think on this. Why? Why is there one of you, who would take such actions to tell you all that something here... something is not balanced.~ She takes a deep breath, letting out the air in a slow exhale, and hands the bones back to the Truthcatcher.
Trips-Over-Paws presses her nose against her Elder's shoulder, silently questioning whether it is a lack of Half Moons that has led to a lack of balance, and wondering just what her own role will have to be.
Bitter-Harvest stands up. His hands are clenched into fists, and there's a rather ugly look in his muzzle. He doesn't actually move toward the speakers, however, which would suggest he's not actually looking to say anything. Either way though...he's looking increasingly pissed.
Blackriver lets out a huff, fur bristling, and she grumbles something soft to her nearby packmates.
Jacob is drop-jawed at all of this, and what might have been red-hued with rage earlier, is pale white with shock and uncertainty. He remains the watchful eye from the outskirts of the masses, listening, but silent.
Circle Keeper moves up to the bones with a heavy step to his stride as he passes to the front, the white crinos taking them before glowering out to the crowd. ~It has been a very long time with Ridgeline-pack as Guardians. Manitou's Ridgeline will disband. We will do this soon.~ The fostern looks to the gathered, his teeth clenching for a moment as if he's going to add something. Instead, he shakes himself once, hands the bones back and returns to his place.
Walks-Middle turns her head, touching her nose to Trips' in a mild reassurance. There are no other words to continue that thought, though the Child Elder does flatten her ears behind her with the announcement from Circle Keeper.
Treeclimber listens in silence as Yi speaks, ears flat but not responding until she takes the bones back from Circle Keeper. ~It is our nature to be fractured,~ she oberves as she takes the bones. ~We must argue from time to time, that we might become stronger. Still, I too have observed this, and it is for that reason that I call the halfmoons to Moot. Still, we all have two choices -- to seek to improve the situation or to walk away in disgust.~ her eyes flick to Pierces-Ice. ~Consider well, then, all of you, what you might do to restore Gaia's balance. It is not a problem that will be solved overnight, but the actions of every person present will determine the outcome.~
To Circle Keeper, she simply nods. ~You have served wisely and well, and I am sorry to see you go.~ Only then does she turn to the Sept, looking for others to speak.
Untangler lies on the ground behind his packmate, head resting down, ears slick against his head, pointed drastically off-centre. He stares towards the distant exit of the caern's ravine. He bristles with shame.
Blackriver's ears perk in surprise, and she glances at the gathered Ridgeline pack, dipping her head in respect for their services.
Circle Keeper seems to take Leslie's words at the end in stride, the short Fostern standing just a little taller at that.
Runner returns to her spot beside the other Gnawers, although she ends up folding herself down to a sit. Her expression turns contemplative, watching the announcement of the Guardians disbanding with another withheld grimace.
Fears-Pain simply listens though she too looks to the Child Elder for some reassurance in this strange transition of the Sept.
Fat-Ripper's expression is sour, and she scratches roughly at a patch of fleas as she whispers something dismal to Runner as she returns.
[Fat-Ripper's lips pull back from her yellowed fangs. Her tone is half-horrified and half-hopeful, like she can change things just by the power of wishing but recognizes things need to be a fair bit changed. ~Are we really that bad?~ she asks her old tribemate, worriedly.]
Ferret catches Fat-Ripper's comment and leans in to speak softly with her fellow Gnawers. Her words are brief and in a moment her attention returns to the moot.
[Ferret glances between her alpha and fellow ragabashes. She whispers something in return, her tone intended to be both reassuring and soothing, ~Trust me. Compared to some other places this is mild. I've seen much worse out there.~]
Runner only offers a quiet rumble of reply, audible to her tribemates.
[Yi rumbles a quiet reply, meant in a dour humor. ~There is worse. We could be dead.~]
The Warder steps up, and grabs the bones, forced control evident in his movements as he steps up to look over the Caern. Finally his gaze lands upon Jacinta, and he nods. ~I hope you are proud.~ He says, barely above a whisper, full of anguish. Then his voice explodes from him in a roar, the bone pointed out over the gathered Garou, ~We are Garou! The /wolves/ of Gaia! Wolves have challenges of dominance when it is time for new leaders. But they are still a pack! Still strong and with faith in one another! They do not /hate/ each other! They hate those which bring harm to their families and homes! They do not insult each other! They do not fight each other when there are enemies who threaten them all around!~ He huffs in hard breaths now and calls more clearly, ~First of all. I respect Jacinta and the Guardians of Ridgeline all. However! It is at the least polite, and at the most /respectful/, to let the Warder know of these decisions before they are annouced to one and all. He /might/ have something to say about it! Second, I am not claiming the position of Master of the Challenge, but I will watch over those who challenge for the position. Again, it is the Warder to whom these things fall when there is not one person to call upon... not the caller at a moot.~ He looks to Leslie briefly, then back over the Caern, ~Third. In the news of Ridgeline leaving us after so long being dutiful and honorable guardians, steeped in glory and wisdom, I form a Guardian pack which I will lead. Find me and volunteer, before I have to find you.~ He takes a long breath now and adds, ~Finally. The Caern is our home, and Gaia's heart. I see it too often near empty of Garou. Spend more time with her and each other. Perhaps we are so fractured because we keep ourselves so seperate from that which is our cause. In this... I order all Garou that are not acting as guardians to be present at each and /every/ Sept moot. This is /MANDATORY/! We are the Wolves of Gaia. A great pack. One force of nature.~ He hands the bones back, takes a deep breath as he closes his eyes and turns his neck to crack it.
Bitter-Harvest turns his sharp look to Jamethon now, and his expression turns from anger to sheer and utter loathing. It's enough that his mouth even opens a few times, as if he were going to respond, but he keeps it under wraps, and apart from a general tensing of every visible muscle in his arms and shoulders, he doesn't actually move.
Kills-the-Cries murmurs something back to the Gnawers around him but only after James is finished speaking, closing his eye for a moment afterwards.
[Remember what I said. The rift between city and woods dewellers will grow again. It's already started, the cut will grow larger if someone doesn't stitch it closed.]
Blackriver tips her head to the side and watches Jamethon carefully, her reaction too mixed to really draw an opinion out of.
Fat-Ripper watches the Warder speak, passively respectful until his last point, at which the Gnawer Elder's ears flinch back, and she gives a small soft snort of either displeasure or difficulty, though she voices nothing beyond that.
Untangler continues to lie there, shrunk to Lupus and hidden behind Circle Keeper's Crinos, limp and unresponding. It's unclear if he's even paying attention.
Far-Cry narrows his eyes upon the Warder's announcement, ears coming forward quickly. A sharp sneeze after, he bites back a low growl.
Runner's tilt of her head towards Basil angles the other way as the Warder takes the bones. Her expression goes from pensively dour to somewhere of a balk at his ultimatum. Her ears flatten again, and she turns back to her ahroun tribemate and others.
Now Treeclimber's ears lie flat, and her hackles go up. ~There are many possible reasons, Warder. I speak because judging challenges is a role that has traditionally fallen to the Philodox. However, it shall be as you wish.~ To the rest, she does not speak, looking instead over the Sept. ~Others?~
Rags gets energized by the Warder's description of the wolves of Gaia, then he studies the crowd's various reactions as the Warder continues onto his ultimatum and his energy dampens.
Culls-The-Herd glances at the Shadow Lord cub at her side and shrugs, looking annoyed.
Lightning steps up. ~I have to report,~ he tells the gathering, ~that the challenge of Bloods-Bane for Fostern has failed, or rather, has been cancelled due to certain circumstances which are best related to you by Bloods-Bane himself.~ He appears to be juggling mixed emotions as he imparts this news, and if anyone was hoping for more, they're disappointed as he steps away from the limelight.
Circle Keeper's hackles raise, the uktena quivering in rage at Jamethon's words. The fostern clenches his weapon tightly, and a growl starts to form in his chest.
Fears-Pain raises her heada t the mention of a challange of soem sort being cancelled. The cresent moon cub's ears flick foreward. This seemed to be interesting.
Dillen steps forward to take the bones and in calm tones speaks to those assembled. "I have taken my challenge and have not completed it as my family called me to their side. I have become the father of a new son, Stephen Orion, and was forced to go out of town. My Boy." Those words are said with such pride," I am not yet ready to be a fostern when so many things can go ignored in this sept, I see this now. We have beasts to be battled and scourge to find their death. We have those who should look to Chimera..." To which Dillen looks to the now empty sky. "...Who turns away from us when we should need her most. I do not blame her... What is this sept? Who are we? What are we doing to make a difference? All I hear are words and no action. I will challenge again, now that my son is born and I can carry the mantle of such a rank... I will challenge, however, I will challenge with blood boiling and blood coating my hands. The blood of those who wish to kill the garou. The blood of those who wish to corrupt Gaia. I have my course... I may leave this challenge, but I accept the war and I will not walk away from my duty. Now... Which of you will join me in this quest? Will you keep hiding in excuses and shadows or will you rise to the challenge and take back this place before the apocalypse swallows us whole... I choose to meet death head on and look it in the eye. Only then will I challenge again... I hope with all of you at my side." With this, Dillen returns the bones and steps off to rejoin his pack, his eyes still looking all over the crowd.
At this, Treeclimber brightens considerably, her ears going forward. ~Finally some good news. May Gaia bless us with a Garou child. I hope for news once the Baptism has been performed.~ The bones twitch in her hand as she looks out over the crowd.
Kills-the-Cries murmurs back to his Tribemates with his eye still closed, and his head forward, looking rather at peace as he quietly speaks.
[When things break from one another, it's only natural that the pieces get father and father apart. They can pool together again, but they are never truly whole or the same.]
[Amongst the Gnawers: Ferret eyes Kills, arguing, ~Actually, I've seen wounds heal in a way that makes you stronger. Scars are tougher than the soft flesh they replaced. They're just a little ugly is all.~]
Far-Cry, having folded his arms over his chest, loosens that fold as comes to a decision. He looks towards the Warder in thought, and then Dillen as the galliard speaks. An ear splays at the announcement of a child.
Rags puts on a display of energy as he bounces up to the place, taking the bones, and swings an arm high at the crowd. ~Gooooooood eeevenning Hidden Walk!~, the ragged Uktena howls out, grinning at the crowd with yellowed fangs. ~News of victories! On Groundhog Day, my pack, Vendetta, on patrol, ran across an entity that stole our shadows. Shadows marched around us! Shadows of groundhogs! We followed them to find where they were going--and found an eight-foot groundhog gathering up shadows! We massacred the groundhog and got our shadows back! There were a couple more people there, who also followed the shadows. Fat-Ripper and Lefty and Howls-For-Glory, They fought well.~
Blackriver gives her Get a playful bump as he comes to sit back down, jaw opening briefly in a grin.
Rags moves on to other news. ~Long-Suffering is banned from my lands and my pack's territory for disrespect of territory, until she apologizes to Kill-the-Cries. Then we can be all friends again.~ Rags grins broadly, looking about the crowd, but fails to find the Uktena Galliard.
Rags' grin fades as he regards Ridgeline, then he turns to address the rest of the crowd. ~Some of you may have heard some rumors, about what I did recently and why. Why's going to have to come first. There was a time when I needed to talk to Jacinta Pierces-Ice, and went looking for her, but she didn't have time. She had to go to the city, right that moment, and asked if I could take her.~
If it's at all possible, Circle Keeper looks even more angry at Reggie than he does at Jamethon.
Ferret is mid-whisper with some of the other Gnawers when she hears her own name. Blinking, she looks back to the moot, grinning at Rags for the acknowledgement.
Fat-Ripper's dourness is replaced, even if only momentarily, with a pride that makes her tail ride a little higher. Pride quickly turns to confusion, and then it meanders back down to interest only slightly more than casual.
~What I do for a living--I drive a truck for my day job and move things and pay the mortgage on my house.~, Rags mimicks wrapping his claws around a steering wheel and takes several sharp turns. ~I agreed to use my truck and take her to the city. After taking her to the city, she still didn't have time, so I asked her to meet me again. She agreed to a time and day to meet me at my place. She agreed on it, the words were clear. Yet she didn't show. Didn't send any word.~
Kills-the-Cries murmurs back to the gathered Gnawers, though he does pause when Reggie starts speaking. His eye cracks open and looks at Reggie, then back out towards the Guardians.
Rags looks around, bewildered. ~I thought maybe she had been hit by a car, like Luke Runs At Dawn. Maybe she couldn't use a phone--but she used one, before. Maybe she was held prisoner in a dungeon? Trapped in a phone booth and couldn't leave? So I tried to find out what happened. She stayed in the city a while, then returned to the woods, and--still didn't contact me. I tried to contact her, saying I was still looking for her and still nothing. Recently, I went through my papers and found the item for the fare of the trip, and saw how long I had been waiting.~ Rags' fists thump together. ~Now, I'm not proud of this. But I could only see that paper, and nothing else--and I marched through the woods, up to the mountains, to her place, and carved a new name for her on her longhouse, Pierces-Her-Word, and stuck that fare in the glyphs.~
Reflection looks around at those who are growling at him, right back at them. When Rag's speaks however, his attention returns to the speaker.
The ragged Uktena bows deeply towards the members of Ridgeline. ~I am sorry I damaged your place. Blackriver has judged my part in the damage. I am to apologize for the carving, and replace it or find something of equal value to make up for it.~ He kneels humbly in Jacinta's direction. ~Please, let me make up the damage. Let me find items to give. Look over these items.~ Rags hands back the bones to the Truthcatcher.
[Amongst the Gnawers: Kill-the-Cries says, The flesh that is scarred doesn't stretch the same, it can't feel as well, it tells of weak spots. My blind eye doesn't help me see any better.]
[Fat-Ripper's lips slick back in mock-annoyance. ~Shhh!~ she exhorts the both of you. ~You're missing the best parts!~]
[Ferret goes to retort, but is reprimanded by her alpha. Grinning, she does as she's told.]
Untangler finally rouses himself from his depression and indolence, to stand next to Circle Keeper, his teeth bared, his tail straight out, showing his defiance of the Uktena's words and his impugning of Ridgeline's alpha, even through a profound sort of weariness.
Bitter-Harvest meets Reflection's look, though he doesn't lock eyes with the higher ranked garou. The story going on right now hardly seems to draw his interest at all.
Song-of-Luna makes a face, wrinkling her lips and her nose, while twisting her ears to either side. She looks very, very, very uncomfortable, and she fidgets a little in place.
Circle Keeper snarls out loud at Reggie, teeth clearly bared. The Uktena elder's hackles are raised, and it looks like if he could, he'd kill the other ahroun with dark thoughts alone.
Blackriver watches Reggie carefully and thumps her tail against the ground once when he finishes.
At a motion from Vera, Saul moves forward without hesitation. He walks easily, relaxed and confident but the particularly observant may find his gait somewhat forced, his shoulders somewhat stiff. He receives the bones with a slight bow and turns to face the crowd, his voice strong as he begins to speak. ~I am Saul Verargert!~ he says, human syllables harsh on a Crinos tongue, ~I have done nothing worthy of a deed name and have been called No-Voice by one and Speaks-Well by another. I am an Ahroun Lost Cub and am now a Shadow Lord.~ With this he hands the bones back to Treeclimber and returns directly to the side of the Sept Alpha.
Runner's expression run from dismay to pride towards her tribemates and a questioning look of 'groundhog?', confusion at Reggie's claim of 'my lands' and finally back to a twinge of dismay. The ragabash sighs heavily, leaning against her tribemates. Seeing Saul come up to introduce himself though, she shakes off what invisible weight burdens her, and steels herself with a forced forward flip of her ears.
Grimly, once the Uktena has said his piece and lain down the bones, Untangler returns to his resting place, and sags back into position.
Circle Keeper stomps up to take the bones before anyone else can. ~Truthcatcher! Are my words not true? I /DID/ tell the warder about how Ridgeline was going to disband, and told him -before the moot-. Let no one said we did not!~ He thrusts the bones back to Leslie, sharply, and stomps back to his packmates.
Blackriver seems torn between welcoming the familiar face, and booing at the new Shadow Lord. So instead of doing either she rests her head on her forepaws and watches the proceedings with indifference.
Reflection steps forward again to take the bones once more at Circle-Keeper's outcry. ~My words were spoken to Pierces-The-Ice. Not Ridgeline. I have nothing against their leaving. Ciuraq spoke with me in due time before this moot. I simply had no knowledge of the vacating of the Master of the Challenge's position.~ Ciuraq's call answered, he hands the bones back.
Kills-the-Cries rises up slowly with his eye half opened, looking like he'd rather be anywhere but here. The Gnawer waits until he has his chance and moves out to grab the bones. ~Recently a lost cub was found with no breeding, a Philodox named Sean. The Bone Gnawers are claiming him for Father Rat.~ He waves the other bone in his hands around in a broad sweeping arc. ~We got dibs, and I don't want any 'born Philodox' teachin' him without our say so.~ The Gnawer glances at Leslie and Blackriver, then passes the bones off and shuffles his way back to his sitting place.
Fat-Ripper snorts at Kills-the-Cries announcement and his sarcasm, and she stretches out her arms, leans herself back. Her manner is still not quite easy, though she seems to try to pretend as if it were. Awkwardly, for show, she makes an exaggerated yawn.
Blackriver's ears prick at Basil's announcement, but that's all.
Treeclimber, who has been listening thoughtfully to the words as they are spoken, now studies Basil as the bones change hands. ~I would expect no less. We do not teach cubs without permission from their elders. Consider your cub exempt from halfmoon Moot until further notice.~
As the Bones are put away and the cracking ends, Culls howls at the top of her lungs to gain the Sept's attention. ~Tonight we perform the Rite of Satire on Mathias Promises-Kept!~ The Sept Alpha focuses her attention on the Silver Fang in question and removes a length of rope, with a rock dangling from it, from a pouch on her hip. The rock and rope create a crude necklace, which she offers up to Mathias. The Stone is covered in the Glyphs of shame and foolishness. ~Take the symbol of your shame and stand upon the Rock Slab, so all may see you.~
Lightning steps forward slowly, a very dark gleam in his eye as he stares at the Alpha. He speaks in a ringing voice. ~It has been ruled that Promises-Kept is to be subject to the Rite of Satire and that he should be returned to the rank of cub. As Elder of his tribe, I so deliver him for this purpose.~ With which formal and inflexible words, he turns and walks away from the center, looking neither to left nor to right, catching nobody's eye. Especially not Vera's.
Promises-Kept looks about for a moment, before he just moves up to the rock. He takes the necklace and puts it around his neck, before standing at the rock. He keeps himself quiet, but he tries to rally some sort of dignified look. He's cleaned himself up, and he's well groomed. There's not much he can say, and nothing that he will, he has no more words for people to use against him.
Bitter-Harvest wrinkles his nose, his attention finally diverted from Jamethon enough to focus on what else is going on. He looks far more annoyed than anything, which is surely no real shock. Mathias is given a very dark look.
Brightside looks down at these announcements and shakes his head in a note of sadness. He sits down and regards the Satire Rite now with an aire of an observer taking notes.
As Mathias reaches the Rock Slab and turns to face the sept, just prior to the beginning of the rite, the air between him and the assembled garou of the sept shimmers as a spirit passes through the thin gauntlet of the caern proper and materializes in the physical world. It is a large Falcon jaggling, facing the about-to-be-Satired Mathias. Though spirits may perplex many garou, it is evident that this spirit is incredibly displeased. It speaks the Garou tongue so that all may hear. ~You will shame Falcon's chosen no longer. No honorable child of Falcon would do or ask what you have done. I cast you out. Your dishonor is yours alone and will not be a stain upon our noble ways--or my noble tribe.~ With that, the spirit of Falcon flares its wings, turns its back to Mathias, and folds the wings back against its body in a highly dismissive gesture. Mathias' white fur rapidly fades, going from the white and silver associated with the Silver Fangs into a drab shades of greys and browns, typical of any number of the more common wolves and tribes. Falcon fades back into the umbra, leaving the garou to perform whatever they wish upon this garou who is apparently no longer of matter nor consequence to Falcon or the other Silver Fangs.
Reflection regards the Falcon spirit as it arrives with rapt attention, then as Mathias has the breeding literally ripped from his body he gives a nod and affirmative grunt of acceptance to the Spirit's choice.
Blackriver watches the proceeding with a dour look on her face. That is, until the falcon gaffling shows up and kicks Mathias out of the tribe. She woofs out a sharp note of surprise at this, and clammers to her feet.
Her job complete, Treeclimber steps down from the rock outcropping as Vera takes front and center, melting down into homid as she does so. Instead of taking her place with her pack, though, she leaves the bones on the rocky outcropping, and quietly walks out of the caern, melting into the night without comment. Those who know her can read the fury in the Philodox's stance as she leaves.
Fat-Ripper's, once more, gives a sharp wince, her fur bristling, her claws making an annoying, obsessive scraping sound against the plastic of her bag. ~Not again,~ she complains, to herself more than anyone else.
Culls-The-Herd is socked into silence, clearly not having expected the Rite of Satire to take this particular turn.
From the outskirts, one of the newer faces among the crowd tenses visibly. Jacob remains put, though everything about him grows rigid as the rite begins.
Kills-the-Cries sits down right beside Olga and uses the bone in his hand to nudge her in the stomach once the spirit is gone, murmuring quietly again whilst watching Mathias.
[If you even think of trying to claim him now I'm going to wap you on the nose with this bone like a newspaper.]
Far-Cry quite noticeably straightens up and comes alert as the Satire Rite is announced. A low growl does escape him this time, cut off abruptly when the Falcon spirit appears. The halfmoon looks, well, surprised as much as the others. He watches intently, glancing away from Mathias to watch Leslie's departure. His eyes narrow before turning back to observe the rite with a grim, sour expression.
Runner's ears sweep back at the appearance of Falcon's jaggling, not responding to Kills' nudge for some time yet. ~By Gaia,~ she utters softly, looking from the spot where the spirit fades away to Mathias' changed appearance.
Rags shuffles over to Kills-the-Cries, whispering a few words, before noticing Falcon's arrival. He stares at the colour change trick on Mathias, as though expecting him to go through a couple more colour changes. Perhaps fuschia?
Mathias looks worse than if he'd just been run through with one of the Falcon's large talons. Sinking down to his knees, it sems like the weight of the rock has become a hundred times more. There is no dignity in his expression now, only a silent shock at his change, and rejection.
Bitter-Harvest gives Mathias a look of pure distaste, possibly because this might well be the one rare time where he can actually get away with doing so. Then he looks toward Vera expectantly.
Recovering from her surprise, Culls-The-Herd's impressive Crinos' form begins pacing back and forth in front of Mathias. Her muzzle wrinkles up as she glares at the Silver Fang, before shaking her head in disgust. ~Pathetic creature,~ she growls, words shifting into a soft howl as she speaks. ~Look, look upon him, all of you! Just moments ago a Silver Fang, proud, noble, one of the leaders of the Garou Nation. Now, he stands before you, all of you, wearing a mark of shame around his neck. And why does he wear this mark around his neck, do you ask?~ The Adren questions, turning to face the crowd. ~Of course you all know, or at least you /should/.~ Vera jabs a clawed finger toward the Theurge. ~After he failed to complete his Chiminage, he was told that the only way he would be permitted into this Sept was as a cub. So, he went to Falcon and asked to be made a Cub again, and Falcon told him that he must undergo the Rite of Satire to become a cub. So clearly, even Falcon believes that Promises-Kept has performed enough foolish deeds to warrant the loss of his Rank! And even loss of tribe!~
~Not only did he fail to take the time to complete his Chiminage, he socialized with Charach instead!~ Picking up the heavy, foul-smelling sac she brought to the Moot with her, Vera reaches inside and throws a rotten apple at Mathias, hitting him square in the chest. The bag is then tossed a short distance away, a clear welcome for the Sept to join in pelting the Silver Fang with spoiled fruit, meat, and anything else on hand. ~Sept, now is the time to voice your scorn for this fallen Silver Fang who stands before you, to air your grievances, and to detail his shortcomings and offence's.~
Blackriver continues to stare at Mathias a moment longer, then turns away. The spirits have spoken: that one is no longer her tribemate.
Brightside is rather specifically not coming forward to participate. This particular Philodox seems to have his place in sitting outside of the ritual and just observing.
Kills-the-Cries crosses his arms and makes no move to say or do anything, aside from a short whisper to Reggie.
Fears-Pain watches, she hears, she listens she takes it all in, but she doesn't take part in the special. The Theurge cub, eyes Promises-Kept, he'd once been white but had been reduced to a 'lesser', more normal coloration.
Reflection steps forward, he does not take up any fruit, but instead spits out at Mathias. ~You actually asked for this? Brought it upon yourself. Cowardly little shit. Should have just done the honorable thing and killed yourself instead.~
Fat-Ripper is awkward, torn between sympathy and ritual. Her teeth grit and her lips pull back into an unpersuasive growl of disdain, though she can find no words to go along with it.
Jacob does not move toward the rite, nor participate in it. His eyes fall on the ex-fang with a heaviness and a distant bitterness that is hard to place. Fists ball up and teeth grind against eachother as shoulders rise and fall. The boiling rage within threatens to breach its limit of restraint and the Gaian fumbles into his pockets.
Whistler looks torn between wanting to participate, and being unsure that she's welcome too. So instead she gives Mathias a mocking look from afar.
Far-Cry, in the spirit of the rite, adds onto Reflection's insult. ~What, did you fail to kill yourself too, that you came back here hoping we'd do that for you? Idiot.~
Bitter-Harvest hesitates for a long moment. And then he does step forward, reaching for the bag of rotten fruit and selecting a piece at random. The look he gives Mathias is the same dark, loathing look he gave Reflection earlier--displaced anger, perhaps, given these two have only interacted once. He doesn't say anything at all. He just hurls the piece of fruit as hard as he can at Mathias's head.
Rags shifts his feet a bit uncomfortably at Vera's words, and he studies Mathias for a long while. Then he tosses at Mathias, ~You're no Silver Fang.~
Once the first piece of fruit is hurled, Runner looks to her tribemates. Her ears sweep back, and then she fully turns so that her back is to the proceedings. Eyes lower their gaze to the ground, waiting out the storm.
Circle Keeper gives the Wendigo Cub a nudge, and a bit of a grunt, before snarling out towards Mathias, ~Trash like you are unworthy of what the Grandmother have given you. You have no honour, trash!~
Ferret approaches the bag without any malice or loathing. The hackles in her fur are from the collected rage that has surged, ebbing and flowing with each emotional outburst throughout the entire evening. She reaches in to take a piece of fruit. Her motions are ritualistic and, as she's barely ever even met the victim, her throw is without any real scorn or ire. She nonetheless pelts Mathias several times.
Reflection takes a few steps back, his anger towards Mathias real and personal, having nothing to do with the ritual itself.
Culls-The-Herd looks pointedly at Dillen for a moment, then her eyes rake over the gathering. She gathers up more soil to throw at the once-Fang. ~During the Great Hunt, you disobeyed my orders /twice/ and I came to harm because of your idiocy!~
Whistler takes the cue and eagerly calls out. ~Even your wyrmcommer tribe has ditched you, huh? Fucking loser!~
Bitter-Harvest reaches for a second piece of fruit. That look of loathing has yet to leave his face, but there's something else now, impossible to read. He looks at the fruit again, then at Mathias, and then he throws the second piece, every bit as hard, if not harder, than the first. There's no hesitation now as he reaches for a third.
Kills-the-Cries takes a que from Yi and turns his back on the Rite after scowling slightly in Ferret's direction, still leaning over on the overly large bone in his hands.
Fat-Ripper reluctantly trundles forward on four legs. She takes a long time in carefully selecting the raunchiest tomato, perhaps simply so that she can look down rather than up at the rite's victim. ~It's true,~ she says, glancing dimly up at the boy. ~You're no Silver Fang.~ Despite the regret in her posture her aim is careful and the rotten fruit splatters mid-torso, and she then lurches back towards her group.
Mathias flinches as the items thrown strike him. Eyes remain solidly on the rock he kneels on, not once lifting. The verbal insults may well be spears thrown at him, the spoiled foodstuff like rocks.
Speaking of rocks--as Bitter-Harvest's hand reaches for yet another piece of fruit, he pauses again, and his fingers close around a small stone instead. He straightens, gripping the missile very, very tightly, and glares at Mathias.
Culls-The-Herd continues with the Rite, listing the offenses that Mathias has performed while at the Sept. Some small, some considerably larger. Kin of another Tribe being moved without permission, offering to 'sleep' in the same bed as a Black Fury cub, to help her overcome her fear of men and offending the Furies in the process. Being involved in a Veil breach, then being less then forward when asked questions about the incident...
Ritual satisfied, Lefty smears rotten fruit juice and slime on her pantleg absently and then turns to join the rest of the Gnawers. The look she gives the Ex-Fang now is full of pity.
Cycle-Breaker has nothing much to say. She just growls her irritation, anger, etcetera at Mathias.
Far-Cry grows even colder with each offense being listed, though the rage in his eyes grows proportionately. His claws twitch as do his lips, peeled back from his fangs, itching for blood.
As the rhythm of the ritual establishes itself, Rags shuffles by the bag, selecting squishy items for practicing his throw, angrily shouting at Mathias. ~Raaaggh!~
As the Rite winds down, Mathias' fur--once silver and white, but recently made grey and brown--is further discoloured and covered in sticky, rotten filth. ~Return to the centre of the caern,~ Culls' growls. ~Lost cub of the Hidden Walk.~ The Satire Rite comes to an end.
Bitter-Harvest mouths a word to himself, rather than Mathias, and hurls the small stone with the same vicious speed and force as the fruit, just as the rite comes to an end.
Jacob's pocket search comes up empty, and as the tension within the Gaian builds, he chooses the more appropriate of reactions. The quiet observer takes a quick shift to lupus, and removes himself from the caern proper, the rite and the closing moot.
~Eat your own crap and die, cowardly trash.~ Circle Keeper adds, leaning on his weapon as he tightens his grip on it. ~Killing yourself is the only way to make anything of yourself, now.~
Reflection regards Ciuraq for a moment as he speaks, then the Warder looks to the Uktena's spear with an expression of curious thought upon his face.
Mathias barely musters the strength to stand as he is ordered, still remaining silent as he has this entire moot. The rocks hurled bounce off him, and he grimaces again. The once Fang, now nothing, makes his way into the center and stands, head bowed to its lowest.
Fat-Ripper grabs her bag and drapes it over a shoulder as she walks, at a decent pace, towards the warmth and darkness of the forest just outside the ravine's sides. ~I think it might be best we went off for a bit,~ she tells the rest of the Gnawers, glumly. ~Until the Revel, at least.~
Blackriver turns, just once, to glance at Mathias, eyes full of mixed disgust and pity, before she turns her back back to him.
Rock thrown, Bitter-Harvest seems finished. His attention leaves Mathias, turning instead to look over the Garou until he locates Reflection again.
Runner turns back around as the Satire Rite ends, ears twitching back up. ~It could be worse,~ she utters to her tribemates who would understand. ~We could be him.~ She glances towards the Satired Mathias, and then nods to Olga.
Reflection stands there and watches as Mathias drags himself away.
Ritual ended, Khem stands and moves off to find a less populous section of the Caern until the start of the Revel.
Wearied, Culls watches Mathias for a short time and then turns her attention to the Moot. Soon, the revel will begin.
Circle Keeper turns and stomps his way off, the Guardian heading off for his duties - no revel for him.
Ferret's eyes catch Jacob's quick departure, and the ragabash scowls faintly. Glancing back at the retreating Fat-Ripper, Lefty decides to slip out with the rest of the Gnawers. She hurries to catch up.
Bitter-Harvest clenches his fists, and starts toward Reflection at a slow, deliberate pace. He's completely ignoring Mathias now. The ex-Fang might as well not exist at all.
Kills-the-Cries rolls his shoulders then glances at Yi. "Nah, I doubt it. Rat never turns his back on his children." Kills rises up to his feet and pulls his paw across his face, then looks over at Rags with a nod. He then looks at Morgan, and gestures his hed at Rags. ~Told you. The way I run my pack works. He apologized on his own. You still leaving?~
Fat-Ripper answers quietly, grittily, and only after a long pause. ~Who else you think is going to take him in now, Runner?~ she asks, pointedly, her question arched, her frustration obvious in her posture and her tone. ~We are him. Probably, at least. So, yes, Kills,~ she tells the Ahroun, glancing at him briefly with sharp yellow self-pitying eyes that just know argument is coming, ~I'm thinking about it.~
Reflection is looking out at Mathias when the approaching Abraxas grabs his attentions instead. He turns and stands, arms crossed over his chest and all authority in the face of the approaching metis.
Bitter-Harvest stops a good five feet away and looks at the Get. All that anger and loathing is back, though he's careful not to make eye contact. He doesn't say anything immediately--in fact, he seems to be taking pains NOT to say anything, at least not until he's worked out just what it is he wants to say. As for that, he's clearly mulling it over.
Reflection gives a huff of breath at Bitter-Harvest, seeking out the Shadow Lord's eyes with his own. ~Spit it out.~
Rags moves to the side, studying the crowd.
Runner shakes her head, a claw gesturing to the dejected ex-Fang. ~I meant, as he is now, look at him. He thinks himself lower than even us, for at least we have a tribe. I know there will be a space for him, /if/ he chooses to find it.~
Bitter-Harvest stubbornly avoids the seeking gaze, clearly unwilling to meet it. His ears twitch. ~You meant that shit you said back there?~ he asks, finally. And it is a question, for all the vitriol he puts into it. ~Garou don't hate each other? Garou don't insult each other?~
Kills-the-Cries snorts at Olga and turns to catch up to them after a look at Morgan. The Gnawer looks at Olga then whispers amongst his Tribemates, glancing between Lefty and Yi for some reason or another.
[You do remember the part where I told you he groped me, right? He's going to screw up big. And it won't be because he's a screw up, or because of love or because he over looked something. It'll be because there is something wrong with him.]
Song-of-Luna has been very, very quiet throughout all of this. If it was her intention to be completely unnoticed, well, it almost worked. Up until the question from Basil, which causes her ears to lay back flat against her head. ~I don't know.~
Walks-Middle, having been quiet throughout the moot save for the occasional reactive noise, rises to bring her cubs away from the caern proper. The elder ushers them out of sight.
Fears-Pain follows quietly, looping slow and moving into lupus as she walks.
Reflection gives a heavy nod to this, and a long breath. ~I did. But as much as I did, I know no one is perfect. We are human as well as wolves. What I spoke of are the ideals we strive for. To be the best we can be as one great Pack in the defense of Gaia. I want to fight along side other Garou as my pack. But if, to me, one in the pack acts like a fuckhead, I reserve the right to call them out on it. That doesn't mean I want them dead. I does not mean I hate them. I only means I expect better in the future. Then, when the same one I call out does indeed show me better, I will have nothing but praise for them instead. I've been a right fucker myself sometimes, but damn it, I try to own up to my mistakes when they are shown... either by myself or the words of others, and atone for them. No one can do more. No one has made no mistakes.~
Ferret eyes Kills, but for the moment the new Gnawer on the block has nothing to say regarding these rather personal sept matters. She hangs back, listening and attentive, but quiet.
Bitter-Harvest's expression hardens, but he doesn't reply immediately. He seems to be mulling these words over--several times, possibly, given the length of time it takes him to actually respond. ~Why don't you hate them?~ Again, the question sounds genuine enough, even if one eye narrows slightly.
Runner pauses and turns back to Kills, eyes glaring at the ahroun. ~Then find out what that is and right it, or put an end to it,~ she growls frustratedly.
Reflection gives a hearty laugh at this, then calms himself trying to show it is not at the Metis' expense. ~Because! We'll all be dead soon anyways! There is no escaping the Battlefield. What is it to hate your ally? Wasted energy I say! Spend that energy instead on trying to kill the proper fuckers out there who are trying to kill you. Maybe even manage to set the final battle in our favor... cause the deck is sure as fuck stacked against us at the moment.~
[To the Gnawers: Fat-Ripper's eyes are hot, her teeth are shown. ~I know,~ she says, fiercely. ~He'll fuck up again. I'd put money on it. That's not in question. The question is whether we got it in us to let him do it as a Gnawer or not. I don't know yet. What do you all say?~]
"I've spent more time with him than any of you." Basil reminds, glancing between the three of them. The Gnawer pauses in step and hefts his bone onto his shoulder, murmuring again.
[If I thought he wanted to help people, I'd be for it. If I thought he wanted to prove himself to be at least not a fuck up, I'd say take'm. If I hadn't spent time with him, I'd say take'm. You know I ain't the type to argue /against/ letting people in, but y'know, if Falcon of all the spirits out there... *Falcon*, humiliates himself and his Tribe by casting someone out like that in a crowd? I was a shitty cub, but damn. I'm abstainin' from the vote, I just wanted to be heard.]
~My 'allies' want me dead,~ Bitter-Harvest replies. ~My allies wish I was never born. My allies /hate/ /me/. My /allies/ do nothing but insult me, humiliate me, and drive me away, and then my /allies/ yell at /me/ for hating /them/.~ He pauses a moment, lips thinning, and then, with a slight twist of one ear, ~They're only my allies because we both fight the Wyrm.~
Runner ends up stopping, turning to her tribemates and regarding them one by one. ~Either way, he is alone now. Rat knows the only way to survive is with others. If he finds his way to us, then he will be one more to share warmth in these cold times. If he cannot stand what we have, Rat has ways to let us know.~
Reflection looks over Bitter-Harvest, stopping his search for the eyes of the Metis, but now apprasing him in general. ~And you feel you do not deserve to take responsibility for any of this?~
Ferret nods agreement with Yi. That said, she glances between the others and starts her long walk out.
Fat-Ripper stops when Yi does, clutching her bag, silent in her thoughts. Then, after a few seconds' contemplative quiet, with a frustrated groaning type of rumble at the back of her throat, she turns, and heads back to the Caern's centre, where the boy, half-naked except for his vestments of rotten fruit. ~I hear you, Kills,~ she says, dourly. ~I hear you so clear it hurts, and I agree with every word you said. But this's who we are, and this's what we do.~
Bitter-Harvest might have been expecting a different reaction, because the one he gets seems to take him a little off guard. His shoulders hunch for a moment, before his lip curls back from his teeth. ~I don't deserve anything. I'm /disgusting/. Nothing I do will ever, /ever/ change that. But am I supposed to /love/ you for it?~
Mathias has since crawled himself into a corner, shifted to lupus and curled up dejectedly.
Reflection guffaws here, eyebrows quirking at the statement. ~I don't give a shit if you like me or not. I'd hope for something a little better than hate however. As for you. The first time we met you tried to hide your tongue from me. That is what angered me, not what you are. What you are is a reminder to us. It /must/ serve to remind us. Do we wish you were never born? If so, it is because of our own shame. If Sepdet, one of the greatest Garou I have known and a Metis... if she were here she would tell you to be the best Garou you could, despite the others. But she is not. So here I am. A Get of Fenris. Alot of people misunderstand what we want. What we stand for. We fight out brother to test him. To make him stronger, not to beat him down. To make us stronger, not to prove that we are already the strongest. That is pride, and it comes before the fall.~ He looks now towards the Metis' mouth, then shakes his head, ~I don't hate you Abraxas. I, and this is my own flaw, hate your parents. Never met them, but they did this to you. To us all.~ The warder uncrosses his arms and lets them hang at his side and offers thoughtfully, ~As for not being able to change what you are to the rest of us? Bullshit. I would like you to be a Guardian for a few turns of the moon. Earn some honor and understand some of the privledge and duty.~
Runner chuffs a rather light agreement to Olga's words. She glances back to Basil, and in the end just says, ~He has one more chance. Others have forsaken him, but he still lives. As long as he lives, he will have a way.~ The ragabash says no more, turning to trot off and wait for when the Revel is called.
Kills-the-Cries rolls his shoulders with a short glance between them all. ~Whatever you guys want to do, you do. Your out rank me and one of you is the Elder and all. Just don't expect me to agree with you. So Fat-Fat, you got any smokes on you?~ He asks in a lighter tone of voice, nudging Olga in the back with the ground hog's bone.
~Sure,~ Fat-Ripper answers, in the same tone, jovial but slightly jibing. ~You go on the Revel, you can have all of them. Just smoke them off the bawn, you urrah scum, you.~
Bitter-Harvest's shoulder muscles seem to ease a very slight bit. ~I hid my tongue,~ he says frankly, ~Because I thought you would tear me apart if you saw it before you had me checked for taint.~ To the rest, he seems more than a little uncertain, and definitely slightly bewildered. There's a faint fidget from him. ~I haven't done enough to earn the honor of being a Guardian.~
Reflection hears the first words and shrugs, ~I can't fault your wisdom on that precaution, but understand my position. The one who protects the Caern. I had a right to be defensive. And I'll be an asshole again if I need to. Better a living asshole than a dead nice guy.~ He waves off the second part, ~You're right, you haven't. And people will look at me like I'm crazy. They'll bare their fangs and growl, then they will either challenge me or back down. It's my god damned call. I want more from you? I have to lend you the oppertunity to /give/ more.~ His expression had become rather annoyed here, but he struggles to calm once more, ~Besides, others aren't stepping forward to volunteer and I'm only offering a temporary position. Two months. We'll see if the Caern is still standing, and consider further from there.~
Bitter-Harvest is looking more bewildered by the moment, but hey--he's no longer radiating sheer hatred and dislike either. There's another tiny fidget. ~I wouldn't make a good Guardian, Reflection-rhya,~ he says. ~I would take it. I would /take it/ if I would. But I can't smell anything.~
Reflection growls out and once more waves off the statement, ~Stop making excuses.~ He does however consider the Metis' words for a moment before continuing, ~I'll try and find a spirit to help you as long as you are on the Bawn. It will be your nose. Wash yourself in clean water using nothing but rough branches hewn while still living to scrape with. Thank the spirits of those plants you take from or they will not offer the cleansing that is required. Fast for three days in the lupine form, drinking only water and plenty of it during this time. Then spend a fourth night of fasting in the Caern Umbra. After all this find me again and I will see about a possible binding.~
Bitter-Harvest stares at Reflection for a very long, long moment. There's a brief flicker of suspicion in his eyes, but that goes away almost as soon as it appears, and he finally looks to one side, breaking the moment. ~Okay.~ He inhales carefully. ~I've been helping Stone-Spirit patrol her pack territory in the city. I need to tell her about this.~
Reflection nods to this, ~Do so.~ Is all he says on the matter. ~Anything else?~ He asks as his arms cross over his chest again.
Bitter-Harvest glances at Reflection one more time, and then shakes his head. ~No. I'll find you after I've spoken to Stone-Spirit and done as you asked.~ He adds, a bit ruefully, ~Provided I survive the Revel.~
Reflection gives a short snort of humored laughter at this last part, ~Do your best. Luna watch your path.~ With that he turns and heads over to the Waterfall, heard to be muttering something about finding his spear.
[Afterwards, by the Waterfall.]
Reflection is approaching the waterfall at an easy and slow gait. He stops for a moment before stepping into the mist and takes a long and rather deep breath, as if steeling himself for the cold.
Kills-the-Cries comes out of the brush with his furry hands held on his hips as if they were in imaginary pockets. The Garou rolls his shoulders and gives Reflection a quick once over before announcing himself. ~Aiming to cool your head after the moot boiled everyone's blood?~
Reflection lets out the breath quicker than he first took it in at the interuption and looks over to Kills-the-Cries. He sighs and shakes his head, ~No. I'd take the heat over the cold anyday. Going to find my spear. I think Chimera took it over to the Umbra.~ He gives a snort and adds, ~The hell were you thinking coming in here with a lit cigar anyways? You actually think that was a /good/ idea?~
~I know a Rite that helps calm my Rage when I smoke. I do it a lot ever since I frenzied on another Garou, ripped his arm off and ate a person.~ Kills responds with a somewhat flat exprpession. ~I don't have a pipe. I can't carry a hooka with me, so I did it before I got there. I put the ashes in my fur instead of on the forest floor and ate the cigar.~ He explains. ~If I start dropping pills during the moot and I'm not wearing bandage though, feel free to kick my ass. What's with the spear anyways? I thought weapons didn't do much?~ He asks.
Reflection rolls his eyes at this, ~Next time, perform such rituals before getting to the Caern, or get the Ritemaster's permission to perform them in the Caern.~ He then goes on to add, ~The spear is dedicated to Chimera. I began the work on it when I was gatekeeper, to affirm my bond to the Spirit. One day, I plan on crafting a fetish from it.~ He snorts and turns to fully face the Gnawer now, ~Something you need?~
Kills-the-Cries lifts his hands up and drops them at his sides. ~Sorry.~ He apologizes simply, shaking his head. ~Maybe this is her way of showing appreciation, or approval. Not that I know anything about spirits, especially ones like her... ~ The Gnawer trails off, then turns to look at James again. ~I wanted to talk to you. If you think I'm being a pest, I'll walk off. I think it's good to see someone other than Ridgeline taking a stab at the Guardian thing.~
Reflection listens through the first part of his response and then gives an annoyed huff at the second, ~Quit with the pest crap. Just speak your mind. I'm listening.~
~If you're interested in a little back up, I have a lot of territory in the woods.~ Kills explains quite simply, tilting his head to one side. ~I can give a lot of my time towards it, Reggie spends a lot of time out here and so does Song-of-Luna.~
Reflection seems confused for a moment, ~I'm not exactly sure what you're offering.~ He crosses his arms over his chest and nods his head in a questioning manner towards the Gnawer, ~Don't you patrol your territory as it is?~
Kills-the-Cries lifts his hand and wiggles in it in the air a little bit. ~Think of it as another squad, or a few more extra guys around. I might've thought about signing up for the Guardian thing, but I already have a pack. Well that and I wanted to ask you... How many Rites do you know? Well, not just that. I wanted to ask someone to help me learn a few spiritual things. Part of me doesn't like the woods all that much, obviously. But uh, it ain't fair for me to 'bash' something if I ain't tried it.~
Reflection gives a huff with something like the word urrah mixed subtly into the tone. ~First things first. You want to be a guardian then? Is Vendetta volunteering, or just you?~
~For a time. The thing is, I like to have room to move around. Freedom to command those under me as I would and do the things I do. I kind of have a habit of screwing up too, so, it's always good to have only myself to blame. I screw up less.~ The Garou folds up his arms across his chest and rolls his shoulders. ~Kevin has Aimee, I wouldn't expect him to abandon her. He might make a kid or whatever. Reggie has bills, Kaz has obligations. Morgan might like the idea, but right now, it's just me volunteering. As long as I stick in my pack, anyways. I'm loyal to my Totem.~
Reflection throws his hands up and shrugs, ~Ok, so what kind of time are you offering to put in? Put it to me simple. How many weeks, how many days each week. Lay it out for me.~
~I'll do a straight month if you give me time to get some gear for the woods.~ Kills responds simply enough, quirking his brow. ~That's long enough and all, right?~
Reflection thinks on this a moment then responds simply enough with, ~Make it two. And thanks for volunteering.~
~I can do that. Shame none of the Kin I might meet out here will be of my Tribe.~ Kills glances around, then looks up at the sky. ~I was planning on being out here anyways to guard instead of being on the revel. If you're looking for more people, Yi was invited to the Guardians. I don't know what you think of her, but she's a good and honorable Garou. I'd recommend asking her, she'll accept. Masao and Aaron were thinking of starting a pack but I don't know where it went. Masao's good at re-con if you want another set of eyes. She's got a temper like a Get though, so you know.~ Kills smirks a little bit. ~I mean that in a good way.~
Reflection gives a hearty and low chuckle at this and shakes his head, "You're a little slow on the uptake. Yi has already consented to join my pack. Need to talk to Stacey too. I think she'll stay on as a Guardian for a while. I'll consider the others too. We're looking for Uktena, so that isn't always the most inviting to all the folks around. Anyways,~ He looks back to the pool, ~I got a holy stick of reverence to go see about.~
Kills-the-Cries lifts his ashy paw to wave at James. ~I'll see you around. I know a thing or two about building things. I could help build us a structure or two to share on the bawn. Winter isn't over yet. Good luck with the spear. If you want the structure, let me know before I go back into the city and I'll see what I can arrange.~ The Gnawer turns and walks off back the way he came, humming in a growly tone of voice.
Reflection just nods in answer to the offers, not committed to asking for anything or refusing it just yet. He looks down into the pool and like that (poof)... he's gone.
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