A Solution Presents

5/9/2008

07:32 PM
Logfile from GarouMUSH.

Currently the moon is in the waxing Crescent Moon phase (31% full).
It is currently 19:31 Pacific Time on Fri May 9 2008.
Currently in Saint Claire, it is partly sunny. The temperature is 60 degrees Fahrenheit (15 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from the north at 3 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 30.06 and falling, and the relative humidity is 37 percent. The dewpoint is 34 degrees Fahrenheit (1 degrees Celsius.)

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

Saul bulks up to Glabro over a few seconds before spooning a bit of soup into his mouth. Swallowing quickly and making a pained face at the heat he says, "Well, better lettin' 'er go then takin' her away fr'm here. Th' thing is, I think Quiet'd go if Riot tried t' take 'er. An' that's fucked up."

Vera spoons some food out of the pot hanging over the fire, then setting down near by, resting her rear on a log dragged in from outside. "She has no intention of trying that, thankfully. At the core of it, Riot feels that she is not worthy of being Garou and that she has been abandoned by her sister. Riot has no self confidence, but a great desire to do good - so she over compensates. She sees those in power as holding her back, from doing what is needed, so she struggles against them. Judging by her most recent behavior, that aspect of her personality may have been broken. She showed throat to both Stacey and Jacob, offering them her apology for her actions during the raid. She seems to have decided to follow the path of replacing Quiet with her Tribe and if I am not wrong, she is likely to fully focus on their approval now."

Far-Cry's roughly barked chuff from the entrance of the cave announces him at the threshold shortly before the black wolf is seen picking his way in. Ears up and tuning in towards the cave's current occupants, the philodox swings his head down a level in deference to the packmembers of Stormfront before lifting again.

Saul's expression starts out dubious and slowly turns more considering. "Huh," he says after a few moments, actually smiling slightly, "So she might be turnin' around." He glances over to Kenneth at his entrance, giving the wolf a brief wave before turning back to his soup and blowing on it.

Vera looks over at Kenneth and smiles. "Good day. Care for something to eat?" The Adren asks, gesturing towards the simmering pot over the fire, then turns her attention back to Saul. "Yes, I see her turning around now. But, she has no intention have having anything to do with Quiet now. I suspect it has to do with a feeling of shame, of embarrassing her sister and being abandoned by her. It would be disgustingly easily to sperate the two, but that is not something that I would like to see happen. While Quiet would ultimately replace Riot with you, if pushed away hard enough, loosing her sister would hurt her - deeply. I have been talking with Ruth and I think that I can arrange for it, for Riot to be forced to come here. Be forced to deal with her sister, in a place where others will not get involved. They will heal their wounds, or they will separate cleanly. Which is more preferable to a long, drawn out separation, full of avoidance and festering hurt."

[Look Saul (glabro)]
This man looks like a thug. Just over six feet tall, he is the incarnation of the "bar bouncer" archetype. He must weigh at least two hundred pounds, nearly three feet from shoulder to shoulder. His eyes and hair are dark, the former well shadowed by his prominent brow. His clothing is extraordinarily tight: taunt, well-formed muscles strain against the fabric. There is no evidence of fat on his body, every bit of him seems to be made of bone, muscle and sinew. Thick, black hair covers his forearms and bursts from his collar in tufts, trying desperately to escape its confinement. Oddly he stands ram-rod straight, despite his massive size, and moves with surprising grace. He looks, peculiarly, like a Neanderthal who attended etiquette school.
He smells strongly of burnt cloves and cinnamon, the scent largely overpowering any more subtle smells.
Hidden under the more powerful scent are the smells of both city and forest. Dirt, pine and leaves are all present, as is the scent of exhaust, soap and shampoo. The various scents blend together, making a complex and confusing aroma.

Far-Cry sniffs towards the pot, but chooses not to partake. The halfmoon edges over to a side of the cave where he can see the both of them, and slowly lowers himself down. For the moment, he only listens to the pair talk, getting a feel of the topic and flow.

Saul bares his teeth briefly, then blows on his soup some more. After a few blows he says, evenly, "I don' know how I feel 'bout Riot livin' here. But I know how I feel about her stayin' away fr'm Quiet. If you think that makin' Riot stay here's not gonna hurt us an' it'll help 'er stay close t' her sister..." He shrugs his right shoulder as he goes silent, letting Vera fill in the obvious conclusion.

Vera pushes some of the soup around in her bowl, then shrugs. "I gave Riot the offer of coming here, something that I would not normally allow. It is so very strange to have twins, each having chosen a different Tribe. She did not accept the offer and I will not force her, not personally. Ruth, however, suggested making her hunt for the pups, as she needs to get more in touch with her feral side. That would bring her here, without making her feel trapped. We want to avoid that, as it would only make her pull away further. We want to give them a chance to heal, not separate them further." The Adren looks over her shoulder at the Philodox, beckoning him closer. "Speaking of Riot, I have a question for you concerning her, as a Philodox."

Far-Cry lifts his head at the beckoning. His ears splay, and he looks reluctant to move any closer. Wary, even. The halfmoon rises eventually though, and paces forward a couple of steps before settling again. The Child ahroun? What of her?

Saul nods at Vera's further explanation and, following her attention to Kenneth, opts not to interject and simply tries to sip some of his soup

"This isn't so much about her, as something that was done to her," Vera says, then spoons some food in to her mouth. "It is something that does not sit well with me, but I am no Philodox, so I will put the matter to you. Before the raid to bring back Stacey, she started a fight in the Walker place and broke her word to Mouse about something. Riot was unclear as to what promise was actually made. Mouse punished her, by the use of a punishment Rite known as Growling Gut. Riot is a Gaian, not a Glass Walker, which is why this does not sit well with me. I would have expected her to deny Riot any rights to the resources of the Glass Walkers in retaliation, or go to a Philodox because of the Gaians lack of territorial respect. Instead, she chose how to punish her and carried it out, as I would expect a Philodox to do - not a Theurge. Before the raid, she somehow managed to retract the punishment, then re-performed the Rite on her after Stacey was brought home. Riot also mentioned the punishment was now to last twice as long, as the Rite would normally entail."

Far-Cry flickers an ear, rumbling deeply, And the punished did not protest? Why did she not go to a halfmoon herself?

Saul sips at his soup.

Vera lifts and lowers her shoulders in a shrug. "Riot said that she had been punished by Elders before, that she could 'take it.' Mouse outranks her and Riot is inexperienced. Her lack of complaint is not surprising. That, and she also said that the Rite had already been performed - that there was no point in voicing complaint at this stage. She honestly seemed surprised, that I found Mouse's behavior distasteful. But, as I told you, I am no Philodox, perhaps your opinions are different then my own."

Far-Cry thumps his tail with a flattening of his ears, teeth baring at a certain stage of the ragabash's explanation. She accepted the punishment the first time, so there is nothing to be done about that. And she was wrong for violating the Walker's territory. But to perform the punishment /again/ for no reason? And to extend the punishment time? That is not fair judgment. The theurge acts out of her own auspice, and she has not shown mercy or fair judgment to the inexperienced. The second punishment should not be given. That is this one's opinion.

Vera nods, moving about her soup with the spoon. "Riot said that she had made a deal with Mouse, to have the punishment removed for the raid - so she would not feel weak from hunger. Mouse agreed, but only if Riot would allow the punishment to be reperformed and last twice as long on her return. I had mentioned the punishment to Ruth, before I knew that it had been performed by Mouse. As was curious as to which Philodox had called for it and why - Ruth seemed less then pleased over the matter."

Vera adds, after a brief pause. "I do not know how many days Riot went through the punishment, before the Walker removed it for the raid."

It is not the first time punishment has been given without consulting the halfmoons, growls Far-Cry quietly in that regard. And with it, a significant look towards the Shadow Lord elder. It's short though, and accompanied by a quick averting of his eyes again just off the center of her. If the punished agreed, then all the more fault to her for accepting. Halfmoon she is not either. Let them punish each other with their presences if they so wish. It should not affect the safety of the caern, this. Only the relations between the tribes.

Saul sits and eats, watching the other two carefully and listening rather intently.

An eyebrow lifts at the half-moons look, then there is alight twitching of Vera's lips in response. "But, is a punishment a punishment, if it is asked for by the one it is used on and and that ones Elder?" A smirk. "I know that you disagree with me on the matter and admittedly, it is not a performance that I have any intention to repeat. /Ever/. It was somewhat distasteful. Shall we leave the matter at that?" Slowly, the Adren's smirk turns in to a full smile, softening her weather hardened features. "And now that I have your attention, I have more news for you. Of the wolf pups I whelped, one is Garou. A Galliard. When he and his siblings grow older, they will have to leave the cave. As you already spend much time out in the woods, I was wondering if you would be interested in helping with his care, and teaching." The Adren's grin flashes even brighter, a joke that only she gets. "I also wondered if you would sire your own pups this season. And before you get angry with me, it is possible. And if you will but listen, I will tell you how."

Far-Cry flicks an ear with the previous matter on punishments, looking content to 'leave it at that'. The smirk from the ragabash that grows only seems to heighten the wariness in him, though. A low rumble skims the back edge of his throat about her pups, and the philodox dips his muzzle only in consideration of the request. The brightest grin captures his attention. The statement following, though, brings an audible snarl out of the halfmoon despite the ragabash's initial precursor on not getting angry. His snarl isn't so much anger as it is frustration, however. Frustration, and a very thin tolerance for the reminder of his scar.

Saul looks at Vera, then at Kenneth, then back at Vera. He doesn't voice it but it's fairly obvious he's missing something important.

Vera sets aside her now empty soup bowl, and rests her elbows on her knees, hands lightly supporting her chin. "Speak with the feathered Metis. She provided me with a list of the Rites she would perform or teach. There was one that caught my interest and after some questioning of old friends, it is now my firm belief that she has the knowledge to return to you, what you have lost. I do not know what Chiminage she will ask for in return, but know that your Tribe will provide you with whatever is needed."

Far-Cry suddenly rises from his position, stirred from his settled state into one of angered anxiety. I spoke to the bird-wolf-mule before, briefly. What does she know? The halfmoon bristles slightly. And why should I admit to a metis what happened? She would mock me before any help were offered, growls the philodox in his conviction.

Vera removes her chin from her hands, then settles her hands in her lap. "She knows a Rite that is normally kept very close by the Black Furies. How she came to know it, is beyond my knowledge. But, it is used to restore fertility. Normally, to one who can not have children. I have friends in Steel Angel and they in turn have friends, who asked questions for me. The Rite has been used to allow a Garou the ability to bare children, after she lost it to the scars of battle. And, while there are those of Pegasus' children who would object, it has been used on your gender in the past."

Far-Cry's posture simmers with intensity, hackles stiffened along his neck and spine. You would tell me to ask this metis to heal a scar earned in battle? he growls in question to the ragabash.

Vera lifts and lowers her shoulders in an elegant shrug. "No. I ask where is the /Honor/, in denying the Garou what we need the most? Children, to continue on when we are gone."

Alphas mate. They sire and bear pups. Far-Cry states this fact quickly, a stamp of his forepaw made in emphasis. And if Gaia wished for me to be the sire of any pups, then She would not have taken such ability away in the first place, don't you think?

Saul finishes his soup and leans back on his elbows, frowning slightly at Kenneth.

Vera snorts. "We are not wolves, to be limited to such thinking, we are Garou. I alone, can not keep our Tribe from fading here, due to a lack of children. Gaia is not the one who took the ability from you. It was a fool of an Elder, who did it to you. A Garou who was a slave to his pride, his ambitions, who was an embarrassment to our Tribe, and to Gaia."

Saul nods slowly, though his face remains blank.

Far-Cry snarls, And I killed him! The vehemence and anger behind it is quite telling of the halfmoon's rage towards those past events. It was done. I was punished still, Ostracized. The wolf turns a tight pacing circle, rippling under his pelt with restraint of the Beast within. Then he halts, and looks back to the elder, Saul all but forgotten. The wolfkin are not Garou either. They only know the ways of the wolf. Alphas mate. They sire and bear the pups, he repeats.

"Enough," Vera says, standing rather abruptly, her patience clearly wearing thin. "Use you gift to tell truth from lies," she orders, looking down at the Philodox. "I have something to say to you and will not not have you questioning my words, due to the distrust created by another."

Saul remains silent throughout Far-Cry's tirade, though Vera's statement draws a sharp look. Still, he remains silent.

Far-Cry backs up as Vera stands, ears flattening but still tense, lips flickering over his teeth. He doesn't continue on the rant, but keeps his attention upon the elder.

"You killed the shitpile known as Jarred and as far as I am concerned, you should have been blessed for it," Vera says. "Thunder teaches that we should never accept the rule of unfit leaders. You removed one unfit to lead and in doing so, you did your duty to Thunder and to the Garou Nation as a whole. When I first came here, all that I sensed from you was bile, hatred, and mistrust. All this, because I was of your Tribe and an Adren," clear and undeniable irritation enters the woman's voice as she speaks. "I tried to show you kindness and you replied with anger and suspicion. You would have hidden this place from your Tribe," she says, gesturing around your cave. "In favor of jealously keeping it to yourself and to the only one you seem to trust. You wanted noting to do with us, so I decided to have nothing to do with you. I would not see to your welfare and happiness as an Elder should." Here, the Adren's jaw clenches, teeth grinding together. "There was one who spoke for you and I heard him out. You are of my Tribe and no matter how much hatred you hold for us, how far you try to push us away, it does not change that fact. I would see you happy if I could - as an Elder should. Your pain at what was done to you by the maggot-eaten Jarred, is something that even a blind woman could not miss. I tell you of the Strider, so you may have a chance at happiness - of regaining what was taken from you. What you choose to do with what I have told you is our own affair - I can no more force you to be happy, or to learn to trust your Tribe, then I can pluck the sun from the sky." Here, the Adren pauses and draws a breath, steading herself. "If you choose not to regain what was taken for you, the offer to raise the pup that bred true still holds. If you can not have your own children, I can, at the least, give you the choice to raise another and at the least, experience what it means to be a parent. I am done. Believe what you will." With that, Vera shifts down in to lupus, turns her back on the Philodox and trots towards the back of the cave.

Saul stares at Vera, listening to her speech in silence. Then, shooting a sideways glance at Far-Cry, he stands up to pick up the tripod and shift the pot off the fire before starting to ladle himself a second bowl.

Far-Cry remains stock still under the longwinded rant of the elder. His reactions are obvious through his stiff posture, as one who is actually listening rather than brushing off the words as mere folly. The philodox stares up at the woman almost entirely unblinkingly through her speech. Then as it ends, as she shifts, he continues to be still. The halfmoon turns his gaze to the departing elder, tongue coming out to lick the side of his muzzle as she heads towards the inner parts of the cave. And then he jerks his gaze away from her, turning himself around to also head out, just in the opposite direction. Though nothing else is said, there is an air of tense determination that sloughs off from the philodox as he leaves.

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