Into The Dark Woods

6/18/2007

05:11 PM
Logfile from GarouMUSH.

Currently the moon is in the waxing Crescent Moon phase (22% full).
It is currently 17:08 Pacific Time on Mon Jun 18 2007.
Currently in Saint Claire, it is a cloudy day. The temperature is 61 degrees Fahrenheit (16 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from variable directions at 5 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 30.14 and steady, and the relative humidity is 51 percent. The dewpoint is 43 degrees Fahrenheit (6 degrees Celsius.)

Dark Woods
This patch of forest is dominated by a single, massive, ancient oak tree, its secondary and tertiary limbs thicker than many of the trunks of the trees around it. The age of the trees, even at the height of day, makes the light levels here exceptionally dim.
Owls abound at night throughout the woods, especially in this area. How they find enough food in such sparse surroundings is a mystery; perhaps they hunt the larger forest to the east. Strings have been tied to the branches of the huge oak, with their ends dangling. The hanging tips seem snapped off, and are frayed.
A steep ravine plunges rockily away beyond the oak, making travel in most directions impossible.
Contents:
Stacey
Obvious exits:
Lighter Woods  

On a day when temperatures are cool and mild, and the breeze blows lightly from ever changing directions, Kenneth accompanies Stacey on an explorative journey. Having entered the woods in lupus, but since changed back to breed form, the philodox walks steadily over the rocky, somewhat uneven ground. Now that they've reached the massive oak spotted from the distance, he takes in the sight of the ancient flora, as well as the strings hanging from its limbs. "Someone's been here before," he notes of the obvious. Braving danger, he ventures closer to the edge of the ravine to look down.

"Yeah," Stacey murmurs back, her head tilted back to gaze up at the large oak tree. "It's like... the dark brother of the other Oak. Wonder who it was." She lets Kenneth be the one to brave the ravine's edge, while she lowers her gaze, turning to look back at the rest of the darker forest. "Gotta wonder what the Umbra's like here."

"If it's anything like the forest we just walked through," Kenneth replies with a long peek down, "I'll bet it's some good stuff. Kind of surprised I didn't find this place earlier, being out here this long." Having his fill of checking out the cliffside, the philodox returns to stand by the oak and one of its massive roots. It's here he seats himself, taking a break. "Seriously though, this is so Blair Witch Project, it's not even funny."

Stacey looks down at the roots, then seems to decide she likes standing. "I know I'm not laughing. Kinda gives one chills." She glances around a bit more before seeming to decide that nothing's going to jump out at them, and she also moves to sit. "Kinda nice, to be exploring, running. Lot's been happening lately."

Kenneth pokes a finger at one of the frayed dangling threads, seemingly unbothered by the eerie nature of the woods. "A lot? Like what? Is that cub we found giving you trouble? What was her name... some kind of herb. Parsley. No, Celery?"

Stacey shakes her head with a grin. "Goodness, no. She's been the easiest cub I've ever dealt with. In just three days, Coriander learned more than most do in a couple weeks. Litany, tribes, some history, auspices... Kaz helped me with a lot of the teachin'. I claimed another cub, though. Stanley... 43 year old lost cub."

"Coriander, that's what it was," Kenneth mutters, putting fist into palm in self-disappointment. His follow of the news is all straight and good until the last bit. "43? Did you say forty-three? Four-three?" It's enough to make the Shadow Lord stand up and stare. "How in the hell...?"

Stacey spreads her hands in a helpless gesture. "Beats me! Only explanation I can think of is that the man is stubborn as hell and resisted firstin' until now. Anyways, the others seemed to be handlin' it all wrong, so I claimed him to put an end to /that/. He'll do well in our tribe, I think."

Kenneth goes speechless for a short period, starting and stopping from saying anything. Then the silence breaks as he sits back down, a hand rubbing at the back of his neck. "Jesus Christ. That makes him older than Signe was... and you claimed him? What makes you think he's going to survive? And where the heck did they find him if he didn't change?"

Stacey lifts her brows. "He's got a better chance of surviving in my tribe and with instruction than without. You know I can't give up on someone without trying damn hard first." She lets out a faint sigh. "I'm not sure on the specifics. I think he finally did change, and they found him that way."

Kenneth's expression lends a dark cloud to the hope proclaimed by the Child. His black gaze levels on the ahroun for a time, and then the Shadow Lord looks away into the deep forest stretching out around them. "Yeah, but wait'll he sees his first bane, and then try to tell him he's got to go gut the thing with his own claws and teeth. See how long he lasts. People don't really change, Stace." Leaning back a little, the halfmoon gazes up into the branches of the oak. "Better with us than with the Wyrm though."

Stacey looks over at him, lifting a brow. "Don't change? What about you?" She then shrugs. "It's the same with all cubs. Always a chance they won't survive. I'm willing to give him a chance."

"I haven't changed," Kenneth states somberly. "You can tell just by looking at the way everyone looks my way. They still see a Shadow Lord. You're the only one who thinks different." He shrugs in acceptance, brushing bark bits from his hands. "So this Stanley guy, if he's that old... how's he taking it that you're his elder? You're like, old enough to be his daughter."

"Well, you /are/ still a Shadow Lord," responds Stacey. "But you've come along way since everything happened. They've started to see you as more than just a law-breaker, you can't deny that. That, and you have potential packmates that are willing to give you a chance, including one that has good reason not to care much for your Tribe. Says something. As for Stanley," she shrugs, "He didn't object in the slightest. Seemed relieved to be taught somethin' finally. Kaz was there, and she and I worked him through the Litany." She pauses. "Kaz is another I'd sure let teach my cubs. She know a great deal, especially about the Sept's history."

Kenneth combs a hand through unruly longer hair. "She's being punished for being stupid about things," growls the halfmoon in regards to the potential pack. "I told you, she better prove herself first. And it sounds like this cub of yours has more brain than everyone gave him credit for." Shifting his weight on the root, he gazes back over to the ahroun. "What's his moon?"

"Didn't say she wasn't," the Elder is quick to answer back. "And I agree, which is why I'm not jumping into this pack thing either. Plus, ya still have to meet Jacob and all. If it doesn't work out," adds Stacey, "I'd be willing to wait until others are found that would work well with you and I." She nods and stretches. "He's got a good mind, yeah. And Galliard."

"Doesn't this make your tribe one of the ones with more members?" Kenneth muses aloud after another silence. "And with those two cubs of yours on their rites, that'll make two more to potentially come back. One of which is another halfmoon." He points this out, almost visibly counting the number. "Not bad for an almost fourteen year old."

Stacey nods her head, unable to help a small smile of pride. "It does. We have seven now, counting those cubs. The tribe is doing well, for which I'm glad. I think we'll need the numbers soon." She straightens slightly, looking over a him, with her smile growing just a tad. "Perhaps it's because of that that I found the courage to take the other step I've taken. I challenged Jamethon for Fostern."

Kenneth nods slowly with the mention of the Children of Gaia tribe's health. He remains steadily neutral, all up until the mention of the rank challenge. It's a little slow to take in at first, but then it all hits like a freight train. The halfmoon's posture straightens considerably, and his eyes widen. "You... you challenged for fostern?"

Stacey had been watching for a reaction, not sure what that reaction would be. At the straightening, the question, Stacey nods, again offering a faint smile as she regards him. "Not somethin' I'd been talking about, but I'd been thinking on it. Seemed to me it was a good time to try, been over two years since I Rited." She then adds, as if it wasn't clear, "He accepted. Gonna tell me the terms after he speaks with Blackriver."

"First Dillen, now you," utters the halfmoon Lord, his eyes casting their gaze away into the forest, a veil dropping. "Well, why not. You've done your share of guarding the bawn, being Groundskeeper, being tribal elder. You got cubs to teach, cliaths to work with. Someone's gotta be the leader."

Stacey glances away at the mention of Dillen, then nods. "That was my main reason. There has to be a leader, a clear leader, in this time. And if my becoming Fostern can strengthen our tribe and Sept further... I am concerned about the direction of the Sept, about its future, and if my having more of a Voice can change anything, then I'll face any challenge."

Kenneth's gaze dips back down to his hands, where they rub together idly. "And what direction is that, do you think?" he asks after contemplating. "The strength of the sept, given the results of the last moot, doesn't look all that hot now. Sure, there's cubs being found - lost cubs, though. Makes you wonder about these times we're in, doesn't it. And where the future lies..." More and more, his volume fades away until it trails off. The philodox stands up, walking a short distance away from the oak tree and the ahroun.

Stacey stands up as well, following him and reaching out to place a hand on his arm. "It serves nothing to wonder about it too much, nor to dwell on dark thoughts. We see the symptoms, and now we've got to fight it. Turn the tide before it becomes a greater loss. We can do it. This isn't something new, this struggle. If they draw upon the past to fuel their rage, then I'll draw just as much from the words of those before me, to sway them back onto the balanced path."

"Spare me the I Have a Dream speech, Stace," Kenneth snorts, folding his arms over his chest to break the contact. "Fighting symptoms never defeats the true illness. Do you even know what's the problem with this place?"

Stacey grins at him. "Sorry, habit. ...Let's say you are right, and that this won't be solved by fighting what appears to be the problem," she adds, her grin fading as quickly as it had appeared. "What would you have me do? Do /you/ know either, Philodox?"

Kenneth doesn't return the smile, but he lifts his head in answer to the mini-challenge. "Well for starters, get some Kinfolk here 'cause apparently all those Garou out there can't keep it in their pants anymore and are turning on each other. Literally."

Stacey considers that, then nods, adding dryly, "I can't argue with that one. Aja practically jumped our kin Ian when they met. Not easy to just ask folks to send their kin out." She pauses, letting out a sigh. "I was thinking of saying something at Moot, if I can find the words to say."

"Especially when they find out where they're sending their kin to," Kenneth remarks, eyes going skyward. "They might actually listen to you, if you've got the right words. But in my opinion, everyone's always too high strung at moot to be listening to reason. Still..." The philodox looks back down. "You're an ahroun. And have all the advantages that come from being a fullmoon talking about fighting."

Stacey frowns slightly. "But I do not want to stand before them as an Ahroun, I thought..." Her words fade off as she consider, and then she looks up at him again. "You're right. Perhaps that's exactly how I should approach this, with them emphasis on what we /really/ should be fighting. Which is /not/ each other."

Kenneth taps a finger on his chin, all things being considered. "They say the best defense is a great offense. And you just have to know which way to attack your opponent. Now that you don't have to remain on the bawn, you've got a chance to go out and make some noise."

"You know what I fear, don't you, Kenneth?" Stacey continues, after considering his words for a moment. "The Wendigo are strong fighters, if they did manage to get help... And I fear speaking with the others will just cause them to take up arms as well. Fan the flames, not cool them. But if I could find a common enemy, something they /had/ to fight together..."

Kenneth tilts his head at the ahroun, eyes narrowing as he reads what he can of her behind the words. "The Wyrm's as common an enemy as you're going to get, but that's not specific enough for some. And like it or not, the Wendigo still don't stand a chance if what you're afraid of is actually on its way to happening."

Stacey lets out a sigh. "I know, I know. And I don't wish anything larger on our hands than what we have. There's only one thing I really can do." That said, she turns and starts to walk back the way they'd come. "Talk to them all until they see sense. Even if it means putting myself between them. That and make sure my own tribe is as much of an example as possible." She then stops, her eyes narrowing as she looks back. "Do you also find it odd that Felix has remained further to do some... task for Jacinta?"

"Careful Stace," Kenneth gives in mock-warning, "next thing you know, you'll turn into a philodox with all your getting in between fights." The halfmoon starts trailing after the Child, coming to a halt as the other stops. "Task? What task?" he queries, tensing upon mention of his tribemate.

Stacey smirks at Kenneth. "Oh, all us Children got a little Philodox in us. But don't worry, I'm Ahroun, too. I can always beat sense into those that don't listen." She then shrugs. "He didn't tell me much more than that. Your other tribemates are no more open with me than I them. But he was all up in arms about the state of our Sept."

Kenneth rubs a hand along his jaw line, recalling aloud, "Yeah I remember the ahroun side to you too. Whoever says punching like a girl doesn't hurt didn't get punched by you, that's for sure." On the subject of his tribe, Kenneth's demeanor sours some. "Every outsider who's come here not seeking refuge, comes with this self-righteous I can fix 'em attitude that drives me nuts."

Stacey grins briefly at Kenneth. "Damn straight." Of course, she soon frowns in regards to the visiting Lord, nodding. "Rubs me the wrong way, too. They don't know us, what we've been through, but they sure think they can do better. It's mainly because of that that I don't trust him, not to do what's fully right for the Sept. He's already got his image of how things should be from Painted Rock."

Kenneth doesn't respond for a long moment, instead taking time to think. As they walk, it almost seems like he's willing to drop the subject entirely before the halfmoon speaks again. "We sound like bad kids, trying to rebel against some social workers," observes the philodox with a black tone of humor. "After all, we haven't been anywhere else. Not for lack of trying."

Stacey chuckles. "We sorta do. But it's /our/ Sept. I take pride in that, no matter how crazy it gets here." She glances over at him with a faint smile. "Maybe one day we could try again, visit another Sept. ...I'm not sorry we turned back."

"Maybe you aren't," Kenneth rumbles in low volume, "but it'd help get a wider perspective of how the world is outside our own. Still, why should we give a damn what others think? I doubt Felix is going to stick around anyway."

Stacey nods to Kenneth. "True, we would have broader horizons... Like I said, maybe we can take another trip, just with planning." She shrugs at his last comments. "Does it matter if he's only here a short time if he causes trouble?"

At that question, Kenneth bares his teeth in a tense 'smile', echoing the gesture of a displeased wolf. "He's only a guest. Unfortunately, he's a guest who's got Vera on his side. It'd be tough cracking the shell around him, that much is certain."

There's a flicker of of displeasure, or perhaps distrust, that crosses the Child's expression before she settles on a more neutral one. "Having an Adren Sept Alpha on your side is definitely a benefit."

Kenneth pulls up beside the ahroun now as they walk. "They're also my tribemates," the halfmoon points out, keeping neutral, but flat in tone. "And I know for a fact none of them like me. A little nostalgic, really. Now I know how Cutter must've felt around Jarred."

"I know they are," answers Stacey. "And you know I'm the last to judge your tribe. At the same time, I also remember Jarred, and I cannot forget that there are some who have less than honorable intentions. ...The same can be said for any tribe, really." She stops walking once again, peering up at him. "Kenneth, you realize, if you ever have need, you have at least one Elder behind you. As long as I am Elder, you will always have my Tribe's friendship."

Kenneth pauses again in the walk back, and gazes at the ahroun in the twilight. "I... It's appreciated," replies the halfmoon, his tone unsure of how to truly treat it. "But just so you know, there isn't much I offer in return for it. What you see's what you get, Stace."

Stacey smiles in return. "Never asked for anything else. What you've done for me is worth more than most other Garou could offer, Far-Cry. I know you know it, or you should, but I just wanted you to /know/ that you have my friendship."

Kenneth shuffles his weight from one foot to the other, suddenly looking a touch uncomfortable under the smile of the ahroun. "Well... thanks. Like I said, it's appreciated." Unable to come up with more, the philodox just starts walking again towards the thinner bit of forest they'd passed through.

Stacey seems content enough with that answer, walking alongside him in silence for a while before she suddenly nudges him. "Race ya to the bawn!" And without waiting for an answer, she flows down into lupus and takes off.

Kenneth seems lost in thought for those silent moments, almost missing the nudge from the ahroun. Her challenge doesn't go unrecognized, though the Shadow Lord ends up lagging behind by a few seconds, surprised and caught off guard. She misses the smirk that flits over his features before he takes off after her, instantly shifting to his lupus form and giving chase as well. The philodox lets out a deep bark, You're not going to beat me in this race!

The little gray and white wolf barely glances back, rushing through the wood as fast as her legs will carry her, as fast as she can through the unfamiliar territory. Nope, nope, nope! she yips back. I'll win! Can't catch me now!

Stretching out his legs and stride to as far as they'll go, Far-Cry races over the ground after the Child. Even as he runs, he remains focused on the prize - in effect, it's the ahroun's tail he's after, being a few lengths behind. Little by little, he makes his way after the Gaian at sprinting speeds. Pink tongue lolling out from open jaws, there is one thing though that shows itself on the rare occasion. He's really having fun.

Walks-Middle is clearly having fun as well, which is honestly a lesser feat for the Child. She bounds just ahead of the darker wolf, and likely would have stayed that way if not for one mishap. She slips on a slicker portion of a creek's bank, unending up splashing into the water instead of jumping over it.

Far-Cry skids along the bank, nearly doing the exact same mistake of misplacing his paw where the ahroun had. Rather than falling into the water, he just ends up with rather muddy paws. The Shadow Lord slows a bit away, halting and looking back to where Walks-Middle fell in, and whuffs lightly amidst his panting in wolven laughter.

Walks-Middle regains her footing, shaking out her fur before gazing up at the Shadow Lord, her expression amused, although attempting to look ruffled. You laugh /now/, she barks, and then leaps out of the water, running after him.

You look like a wet cat, chuffs Far-Cry in amusement, but soon as the Child starts running towards him, he turns and takes off now in the lead. Tail streaming behind him like a banner, the halfmoon takes the forefront in leading back the way they'd come. This being a race in unfamiliar territories, though, it isn't long before the pair seem to have run in a wide circle and end up back at the creek's edge. Far-Cry comes to a stop by the riverbank, ears pricked forward in puzzlement.

[And so they continued playing until they were tired. Kenneth? Playing?! Damn Coggies. XD]

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