4/30/2004

01:53 PM
Logfile from GarouMUSH.

The Sept Compound(#2075RAM)
Sweeping branches of trees form a sort of natural roof overshadowing most of this clearing, no more than an open space of grasses and beaten earth in the heart of the forest. Some pains have been taken to keep wear and tear on the area to a minimum, so the firepit tends to shift from time to time. The firepit, several sawn logs polished from use, and a stack of firewood discreetly piled up at the base of an old spruce under a tarp, are the only signs of constant occupation. However, a student of such things might think that some minimal landscaping or planning has been done, for the meadowlike profusion of grasses and other plants has an unusually high concentration of brilliant flowers, which attract a number of bees and butterflies.
A faint trail leads off to the east, and a bit north.
Contents:
Jamethon(#3988PJYce$)
Stone slab
Obvious exits:
Forest  

James sits at a firepit, looking deeply into the small fire that rages at its confinement. Over the fire, being treated by the smoke more than the heat, is a slab of some kind of well-marbled meat tied with twine to two sticks sticking up high above the flames. The Get Theurge seems almost lost in meditation looking into the dancing flames.

Judges-Souls can smell the meat roasting for nearly a mile away. She has been unsuccesful at catching anything in lupus all day or has been too lazy to give it her all to run something down. Her ears flicker back against her head as she walks into the compound and smiffs around.

Yi, also in a form of meditation, is taking a walk. It was the smell of roasting meat that brought her to the Sept Compound as well though, where she finds the Get theurge staring at the flames. As he seems occupied, she stands somewhat screened by the trees at one edge. Judges-Souls would smell her easily.

Jamethon turns his head to regard Judges as she steps into the clearing, offering only, "Will be ready in about another half hour." On closer inspection the slab of meat is quite sizable, perhaps a filet from a deer. Looking over to Erika someone else grabs his attention and his calm passive expression turns to a slight grin. "Come Yi, join us."

Judges-Souls licks the corner of her muzzle, although she looks over her shoulder towards Yi as she approaches. A blank, readless expression is seen on the young Get of Fenris' muzzle. She steps lightly over towards Jamethon and lies beside him, watching the fire as her eyes consume the dancing flames as she gives a yawn.

Yi clears her throat. She's spotted, but it's not like she meant to be hiding. With a nod of assent, the Gnawer comes closer to the fire, rounding it so she's off to one side and not so much an intruder. "Hello Jamethon. Whatever it is you are cooking, you are lucky this part of the forest is also part of the Bawn." She smiles, a slight mischieviousness in her words. Judges-Souls is given a nod too, one of recognition but not particularly of acquaintance.

Jamethon shrugs at this and gestures to a place to sit around the fire. "Perhaps," he half-agrees, "Yi... I wish to discuss something with you, and I do not know your situation. So forgive me if I offend. Are you currently finding yourself in a pack?"

Judges-Souls lifts her head and perks her ears forward. The Philodox has not had very many good experiences with Gnawers before and at Jamethon's offer, she gives him a stare for a moment. She is unbias to a point, however, she will give anyone a chance.

Yi arches a brow at the question - it was a bit sudden. "N... well, yes," she admits quietly. "I still feel the bond of Rat. But, ever since the judgement of Renee, I have felt it grow weak. I haven't seen Lyra or Raul, either." This is a touchy feeling for the ragabash. She obviously is loyal to her pack, but what happens if the pack is no longer? The lingering sense of obligation and duty remains, and it shows in Yi's slouch closer to the warmth of the fire.

Jamethon shakes his head gently and as a frown overtakes his features he proclaims with stronger tone to his voice, "I too well know of the feeling you describe... but out of the loss of death, not disgrace and shame." He glances up to the slab of meat, apparently not quite ready for eating yet. "As Wyvern's bond to us grows weaker, we seek allies to join with us and make it strong again. We are warriors Yi, but Wyvern's way is that of wisdom. I think you embody that ideal rather well."

Judges-Souls remains quiet as she carefully judges Yi in silence. The Philodox looks up, having her gaze fall on the older Fenrir for a moment before she turns her attention back to the Gnawer.

Yi remembers that. News of Luke's very unexpected, tragic death hit her too. James' compliment is something she wasn't expecting either. Her eyes glance away from the fire to the theurge. "Leonard also left, did he not? To go on his challenge for the second rank." For a moment, the no-moon also remembers the silent wolf watching her. Judging her. "But I have a feeling of what you are asking me." Her eyes go back to the theurge. "Why me?"

Jamethon doesn't have to think on the question for long as he replies, "Because you fit. Yi, you are a Bone Gnawer, yes... but you are so much more than that... of this I have seen you prove more than once. I would be honored to have you in our pack. And... Wyvern would fit you too."

Judges-Souls is quiet still, swishing her tail slowly.

"Wouldn't that be for your totem to decide?" Yi questions, wary of even thinking of abandoning Rat for a spirit that she knows next to nothing of. She /is/ a Bone Gnawer. "And while you think I may be a good fit, what about the others in your pack? They don't know who I am, and I do not know them either. Are you sure they would want a Bone Gnawer amongst them?" It hurts to be stuck on such a low social status, but Yi seems to be asking more along the lines of, 'Are you sure they can handle it?'

Jamethon looks now to Judges-Souls, eyes asking an obvious question which he voices, "Erika... you have been watching with your Judge's eyes. What do you think about that which you see?"

Judges-Souls rumbles softly as her eyes looks to Yi with a relative coldness. There are somethings that I have heard about you, Three-Blades. Many have been postive, many have have heard which that you have a warrior's heart but also an intellectual mind. I have never had good situations with members of your tribe before, but if you can prove me wrong-- then I will accept you. Show Wyven that you are worthy of this pack, if you choose to join it.

Yi doesn't argue that the Get Philodox probably hasn't had many good encounters. But to have heard good things? Yi wonders who's talking about her. Well, in the face of the positive light, she gazes steadily at the halfmoon's wolven form. "Then, I suppose, I should have to come to know what Scourge wants, and what it needs." The ragabash turns her gaze back to Jamethon. "What is it that Wyvern requires of those who follow?"

Jamethon notes, rather simply in tone, "Only this... those who follow Wyvern can never 'liberate'," here, James places some emphasis on liberate that shows the exaggeration and sarcasm involved with the usage of the word, " caerns from other Septs. If ever there is a Sept in peril, we must work to save it without stealing it, or killing those who hold it... in tandem with the Sept already there. This is course, is a moot point if the current holders are Dancers of the Black Spiral... and in such a case we are duty held to do a part in liberating such a Caern."

Yi seems like she's able to follow Jamethon's explanation well enough. She nods, with a brief look at the fire. "Perhaps that is the ban of the totem... but I am asking for, mm, more of a meaning for the pack under Wyvern. So the pack is a Guardian pack? Or, of something else?"

Jamethon shakes his head at the idea of being only a Guardian pack. "Oh no, we do not just guard... we find that which was failed by its guardians... and set their failure right again. We seek the lost places, hidden or easily found, and reclaim them for Gaia. In this task, it is wisdom that serves us. We cannot simply charge into our foes blindly like many would and find themselves victorious... and dead. We must live on, for should we fall, we have failed our duty. We hunt, we quest, and we plan. In the end... we right the balance and reclaim the lost. Be they places, be they people, be they items of power... that, is our duty."

Yi nods slowly, after that 'items of power' part. "Sounds like purposes that all Garou should live by, doesn't it?" The rhetorical question is accompanied with a small smile. "I don't suppose you want to try and retake the pit that was Hanford?" She looks directly to the Get theurge. Memory of that challenge still is there in her mind.

Judges-Souls flickers her ears loosely, looking up to Yi for a moment before returning her attention to Jamethon.

Judges-Souls rises and slips into the forest.

Flash makes his way noisily through the woods and into the compound, thumbs hooked into his beltloops, lips pursed in a cheery Rogers and Hammerstein whistling. If he has any woodscraft, he's sure not showing it.

[look Flash]
       He's tall but gawky, a rail-thin, bit-over-six-foot beanpole with dark blond hair that's almost brown and muddy blue eyes that usually are forced to peer out from behind overlong bangs. While he's not out-and-out ugly, his youthful, nerdish features are not particularly handsome, either, and depending on what he's wearing he looks to be anywhere from his late teens to his mid-twenties. His tenor voice, which tends to rise in octave when he's worked up, has an accent that's hard to pin down.
       A brightly-colored Hawaiian shirt hangs open over a slouchy wifebeater. His jeans are faded and sport twin holes in the knees. On his feet are white socks and a pair of Birkenstock-style sandals, and on his head sits a Panama hat with an American flag bandana wrapped around the brim.

Yi glances up from the spot she sits, somewhere near the center of the compound in plain view. The fresh remains of a fire left smouldering before her provide what warmth she can get. Not recognizing this whistling guy, she clears her throat of the awkward feeling. "Hello," she calls out to him. Sheer politeness, really, with a twinge of curiosity.

Not that, with the thermometer climbing into the eighties, anyone /needs/ much warmth, though they're useful for cooking hot dogs. And marshmallows. Flash's whistle rises in pitch, then lowers slowly as he looks her over. "Hey," he greets, casually. "'Sup?"

Yeah, one could question why Yi still deigns to wear so many layers on such a hot day, let alone have a fire going. Maybe it wasn't hers. "Not much at all," she replies, looking the guy over in a similar manner. "I don't think we have met before." Hers is not a particularly scrutinizing gaze.

Flash saunters over, his manner all cock-of-the-walk, almost arrogant in a casual, easy-going way. "Nah," he agrees. "I think I woulda remembered you." His accent's American, though from /where/ in the States is difficult to say. He takes a seat on one of the logs near the fire.

Yi picks up one of the sticks she used to poke at the ashes with, twirling it in one hand as she takes some interest to this rather unique, easy-going guy. Certainly not like any stiff Garou she's met. "I'm Yi." Her accent, too, isn't from the States. It's not even American, though there's probably an influence on it now since she's been here for awhile. "One of the faces you might see around here, hopefully. A pleasure to meet you..." The convenient pause is left in, for Flash to fill in with his name.

Flash pushes back the brim of his hat a bit and cocks his head, studying her with muddy blue eyes. "Hmm... What? Oh, oh, right. Name's Flash. Flash Gordon." He extends a hand.

Yi arches a brow at the name, and sets the stick down to shake Flash's hand. Flash Gordon. She's heard that name before. Then, she thinks of it. Ah the wonders of television. "Interesting name. Like... the superhero?" At that thought, she can't help but chuckle a little bit.

"Ah-ahhhhh!" he sings, in a falsetto that would do Freddy Mercury proud. "Yeah, I'm here to save every one-of-ya." He smirks. "Sad Sept, fulla rejects and losers. So what's /your/ story?"

Yi sits back, heartened that yes, here's a Garou with a sense of humor. "My story? Not very interesting to hear. Sneaked into the city here in a box of fish. I was looking for a Kin." She thinks back, and in brief realization adds, "Human kinfolk. Not fish."
If only she knew. "Fish kinfolk would be weird." He cocks his head. "So... where'd you sneak /from/?"

Yi nods in agreement. Fish kinfolk would be Too weird, even for a ragabash. "Hong Kong," she replies, "from the Sept of Rat's Tail." With a name like that, perhaps the tribe she's part of is rather obvious. "How about you? Did you arrive here just recently too?"

Flash slides down to sit on the ground with his back to the log and his arms stretched out along it. He tugs the brim of the hat lower on his head, making it shadow his eyes. "Rat's Tail... Bone Gnawer?"

Yi nods. "Yes," she answers, blinking at the hat tugging. "A ragabash of the tribe."

"Damn," says Flash. "I couldn't have told otherwise. You don't smell like shit."

Yi smirks. "Not now, you can't, but if you were there when I first got off the boat, you would have thought I did." She leans back a little too, setting the firepoker down. "So, what about you? You're not a Gnawer, right?" Presumably, if she were to go by his definition of a Gnawer... he doesn't smell either. Or, whatever cologne he has must be damn good.

Well, it's been a hot day, so there's some sweat. But he clearly showered this morning and used soap and shampoo and all those other fake-smelling things. "Nope."

"Hmm," Yi considers, watching the hat with thought. "Then, what are you?" Her mind thinks up various combinations to associate.

Flash takes off one sandal, pulls off his sock, and casually chucks it into the fire. "Guess."

Yi watches the sock simply smoulder. Perhaps even dry. "Glass Walker," is her first thought out.

"Nope." The second sock joins the first, and he sits up a bit to poke the flames with a stick and get things going. They're thin socks, and with a bit of encouragement do start to burn.

Yi furrows her brow at the burning socks at first, but she seems more distracted with the tribe guessing game. "Strider," she guesses again, though this time with a bit of doubt.

"Wrong again," says Flash, smiling smugly.

Yi hms again, sucking a tooth momentarily as she watches the fire go. "How about a hint, Mr. Gordon?"

Flash snorts. "I thought you Chinks were smarter than that," he says, with no hint of joking in his voice at all. "C'mon, slantyeyes, put it together."

Shrugging, Yi tosses out the one she thinks is impossible. "Stargazer then. You are stubborn enough to be one." She's not too fond of the insult, but it seems way too commonplace for her to be offended.

Flash wrinkles his nose. "Bah," he says. "Doesn't count. You didn't actually /believe/ that guess."

Yi sits up at that response. "Who says I didn't believe it?" She didn't get a flat 'no' answer there, at least. "You're a Stargazer?" Oh, the irony -- or rather, the humanity.

"You were /certain/ I'd say no. Admit it." Flash smirks, rather arrogantly in fact, and looks at her from under the brim of his Panama hat. "Yeah, I'm a Stargazer."

Yi looks dubiously at Flash at first. She takes in the shirt, the hat, the insults, the smirk. Then, she just starts laughing. For a good minute or so, the fits come and go before she manages to work her composure back in, biting her lip to stifle an amused giggle. After a couple of deeper breaths, she's picked up the pieces. "I'm sorry... I just thought, well, you reminded me a lot of a teacher of mine. A Stargazer."

Flash wrinkles his nose, then shrugs, not joining her laughter. He pokes the burning socks with his makeshift poker. "Oh? Over there or over here?"

Yi clears her throat then. "Over there. Probably no one you know," she comments. "And I suppose you are also a ragabash, considering your manners. Unless, you are an ahroun in disguise."

"Depends on whether he was born there or emigrated with the rest." Flash shrugs. "And, yeah, Ragabash."

Yi shakes her head. "He was born there, raised there, and very likely will still be there long after I'm gone from here. The old goat." Eyes turning back to the other raggie, she tilts her head slightly. "So you're here to save the Sept. Rejects and losers... and one Gnawer who doesn't smell like shit. I don't suppose the others you've met have taken you very seriously."

Flash slips his bare feet back into the faux-Birks and pokes the fire some more. "No, but that's a'right. I'm the scum of the earth, y'see."

"A title you made for yourself? Because I don't think that of you," Yi says, rubbing her nose a bit at the smell of burning sock. "No-moons do get the worst names."

Flash sits up and looks at her, then pushes back the brim of his hat, settling it further back on his head. "See, that's the /problem/ with this Sept. A man tells you he's the scum of the earth, and you don't believe him. Would it help if I told you I was a mule?"

Yi shrugs again. "You're telling this to a Bone Gnawer," she reminds him. "Not to mention, this Sept has seen some pretty brave and wise 'mules'. Would you rather have things and names thrown at you and be driven off?"

"Hmph. That would be /forgivable/." He pushes to his feet and starts kicking dirt over the fire. "I could say this and that and the fucking other, but for now, lemme make one thing /ultimately/ clear, Yi of the Hong Kong Fooey branch of Gaia's Calcium-Chewers..." He turns toward her, hooking his thumbs into his beltloops. "I am the eater of shit, the lowest of the low, the scum of the earth, Gaia's worst mistake, the bastard and embarrassment of my tribe. I am a fool, an asshole, a moron, a coward, and a thief with no honor." He smirks, more sardonic than humorful. "But you won't believe me. No one ever does." Shrugging, he turns his back on her and starts to walk off.

Yi stares calmly at the Gazer's back before chuckling softly. Picking up pebble, she tosses it in his direction, just to retain his attention a little bit longer. "Oh, I'll believe you. And if you would like, I'll try my best to make life miserable." Then, she returns to tending said fire.

Flash glances back over his shoulder. "Don't do it for /me/, yellow dog," he retorts, in perfect Cantonese. Then he flips her off and vanishes into the forest.

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