Visitation Rights
3/7/2007
10:54 AM
Logfile from GarouMUSH.
Currently the moon is in the waning Gibbous Moon phase (77% full).
It is currently 10:34 Pacific Time on Wed Mar 7 2007.
Currently in Saint Claire, it is a cloudy day. The temperature is 50 degrees Fahrenheit (10 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from the south at 13 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 29.88 and steady, and the relative humidity is 86 percent. The dewpoint is 46 degrees Fahrenheit (7 degrees Celsius.)
Big Red Barn(#3420RA)
The barn is built in the old style, a vast three level structure that is greater in height than a mere three stories, actually closer to five. Great wooden posts support the weight of the upper levels and roof, sunk into the hard-packed dirt floor of the first level like a sparse forest of regularly spaced, naked trees. The stalls and flagstones which once were here have been torn out to leave a rather open area where even crinos Garou may roam freely without fear of running into anything but the supports or the walls or the ladder at the back which allows access to the other two levels.
The first two levels are relatively open to each other, the second being only little wider than a catwalk going around all the walls but the front one, which has massive, twenty foot tall doors set into it. The third level is a true second floor except for a place cut out that allowed hay to be tossed down to the ground floor when the farm was actually worked. Now, it is a hayloft where Garou can sleep outside of the house.
Contents:
Emma
Bitter-Harvest
Obvious exits:
BarnYard
Oh, it's been an unpleasant few days, as one might imagine. Bitter-Harvest has installed himself in one of the barn's corners, on a pile of hay that was probably fairly comfortable at the beginning of the weekend, but by this time has been crushed pretty flat. His reason for being here is veeerry obvious, given the twisted bones poking out of his back--it looks like his spine is trying to imitate a rotini noodle, or a box spring, with bits of flesh and skin and nerves still clinging to it. Eww.
Emma has been on a search mission for Jamethon, and after another morning coming up empty, she's ventured to the barn for some reminiscing. The door slides open and she takes a peek inside, spotting nothing out in the open, she takes a stroll to the canvas bag and gives it a faint grin.
Grunt. Abraxas wasn't sleeping or anything, nooo. He blinks groggily, moving first his eyes, and then, only when his eyes can't quite go far enough, his head, until he spots Emma. Oh. OH. The metis tries to sit up, and by tries we mean manages to get his arms under him and bunch his shoulders, but even this really pathetic amount of motion leaves him panting. There's something around his neck, a little leather bag on a string. ~Stone-Spirit,~ he grates, in case the tiny motions didn't draw her attention.
Turning to spy whoever has called her, she finds the lump of twisted Garou in the corner, "Geezus Brax. You healing at all?" Her eyes cannot help but land on the bent shape of the familiar Lord. She moves to him then, in a gentle gait, and squats down briefly before sitting fully before him. "What's the prognosis?"
Bitter-Harvest shakes his head very, very, very slightly. Ow, ow. ~Not this. It hasn't changed at all since Friday night.~ He adds darkly, ~Culls-the-Herd says it'll probably have to be broken.~ And clearly, he's sooo looking forward to that wonderful bit of necessity. ~Kills-the-Cries said he'd tell you I was here.~
The door opens further, admitting one Shadow Lord philodox to the mixture. Kenneth strides in, dragging with him an invisible, but darkish cloud over his head that threatens to turn his demeanor colder and greyer than it already is. Not until he has proceeded in a little further does he spot Emma and Abraxas. His greeting gets stuffed in lieu of seeing what the metis ahroun's spine has been twisted into. "I heard the Revel was fighting against fomori," he states aloud. Clearly, he's questioning the validity of that statement now.
Emma nods to the metis, her attitude to the other casual and in an odd way fond. "Yeah, he did. I was just, daydreaming. Heard you've got some things you want to talk about?" It's at this point that Kenneth enters, and the comment earns a momentary lapse in Emma's cheerful mood. "No shit? I thought he had a freak accident practicing his tai chi." The nod is in Abraxas' direction.
Bitter-Harvest gives a loud, irritable snort. ~They were fomori. A fuckload of them. And one of them could fly and breathe balefire.~ He looks back to Emma, and grunts. ~Reflection cornered me into doing Guardian duty for two months. He seems to think he can talk some damned spirit into being my nose while I'm doing it.~ And from the sound of things, well...Abraxas doesn't sound happy about the matter. At all. At /all/.
Kenneth continues to cross over closer, drawn to the edge of an invisible circle he draws around the pair. It brings him beside the punching bag. "You could go do the same practicing yoga with Black Spiral Dancers, Emma-rhya," the philodox replies smoothly, if not a little sarcastically. His eyes settle on the other Shadow Lord, making no comment about the stint of Guardian duty.
Emma lifts an eyebrow to this, "What's the issue? Cornered you into it? Where's your head man, the fact the Warder saw you fit enough to guard the caern? Think about it." She gives a firmer glare back at the other Lord though, eyes slitting. "Feeling is mutual Kenneth. You need something?"
Bitter-Harvest grimaces. ~Three things. I haven't earned it. Not by half, and he said as much. Hell if I know why he wants me, except I think he's half desperate, since apparently he's letting Kills-the-Cries do it too. And secondly, I can't /smell/. Fuck if the Warder has to go hunting down some damned spirit to fix that, when he has more important things to do. And thirdly...the hell do you think is going to happen the first time I run into one of the former Guardians? Oh sure, Reflection says they can come to him if they have complaints, but fat lot of good that does me OR the Caern if I'm ripped to pieces first.~
Kenneth doesn't return the glare for glare, though his eyes lift to meet Emma's briefly. "Just came to see how the tribemate is doing," he answers, gaze shifting back to Abraxas. "On the other hand, Abraxas, his method of weeding out who is dedicated to the caern and who isn't, is pretty smart. Mandatory sept moot attendance for non-Guardians. I wonder how he plans to enforce that."
Emma lifts a shoulder, "Jamethon is no fool. You can't smell, you got ears, eyes and paws. If he says he can help you with the other part, then so be it. As for the ex guardians. They are just that. EX. They don't have a card up on you, so don't let them. Besides, I've seen you fight, and I've scrapped with CK. You could take him easy."
Bitter-Harvest looks decidedly disgruntled. ~Do you know why I've been trying for Havoc? I mean...besides that I can trust you? It's because when I'm homid, smell isn't that important. Not having it in the city isn't a big deal. Do you know what it's like being lupus? It's like being blind. I can manage not walking into trees and that's about it. Besides, even if he can find a spirit willing to stay with me for that long...~ The metis grunts. ~Whatever. It's not like I can tell him /no/.~
Kenneth turns from the pair then, starting back on his way out. The philodox takes his leave in silence, a pensive expression masking any other mood he might have had.
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