12/2/2004

08:08 PM
Logfile from GarouMUSH.

Currently the moon is in the waning Gibbous Moon phase (62% full).
Currently in Saint Claire, it is a cloudy day. The temperature is 42 degrees Fahrenheit (5 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from the southwest at 3 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 30.53 and steady, and the relative humidity is 85 percent. The dewpoint is 38 degrees Fahrenheit (3 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:
Emma, Bites, Isaac, Horace, Alicia, Severs, Olga, Finds-The-Path, White Bear, Holds-the-Line, Megan
Obvious exits:
Rock Slab  Windy Spot  WaterFall  Steam Vents  

[Note: I SHOULD have been here earlier, because Megan was holding a lesson in the caern about moots. Except I was late, and so the result was me missing a greater part of it. I pilfered the beginning from White Bear's log of the event. Thanks WB!]

Unsurprisingly given the weather, Megan is not in her birth form, but has shifted up into the bulkier, and hairier, glabro, clothes and coat fitting so it's probable that they are Dedicated. Her hands are stuffed into the pockets of the battered canvas trenchcoat, her head tilted back to look up past the patchy swirls of fog of the caern at the clouded blanket of the sky.

Holds-the-Line carefully picks her way down from the rim, pausing on the rock outcropping to study the center and its unfamiliar boulder. Ears flicking forward and back, she hops off the rock, padding over to greet the Alpha - or, if Megan doesn't deign to notice her, to politely wait at Megan's periphery until she is noticed.

There is a long pause before Megan does notice Holds-the-Line, a reverie broken by a start to find the Galliard there. She eyes the Glass Walker, then grunts. ~Hi.~ Her eyes then slew around the rest of the Caern noticing other people here as well, and cracks a pointy-toothed, brief grin. ~Anyone know if anyone else is planning on coming?~

Severs pads to the group gathered at the center. He does not know if anyone else will come.

White Bear plods down into the Caern from the northern rim, The Ahroun pausing on the trail to scent the air for all those present. Catching the presence the elders, he lowers his posture, slowly finishing his way down. Whuffing to announce his existence, he plods over to near the windy spot over there and settles: He's here to watch the Caern for the night, not for the class, and as such remains a little away from the rest.

Holds-the-Line sits, curling her tail around her forepaws, an ear flicking toward Severs. She expected her cub to be here. She does not know if the others will. She adds, after a moment, that Bends-the-Rules-While-Smiling has returned. This is offered almost hesitantly.

Making their way into the Caern is Alicia and Finds-The-Path. The Elder appears relaxed, hands slid into the pockets of her jacket, while the Theurge bounds at her heels.

Winter is coming and it's cold, the mud's beginning to set, but the woman coming in past the rock slab is nothing if not well-insulated. A long thick coat, a couple of sweaters, head kerchief swollen with dirt and sweat, and Glabro weight and thick skin protect Olga from the encroaching night. She's got her bag slung over one shoulder and her other arm dug deep into a pocket. Her feet scrape against the ground as she approaches without saying anything, looking around like she feels slightly out of place.

Megan's nose wrinkles at Holds-the-Line's news. ~Wonderful,~ she says, sounding less than pleased but at least more than put out by this news. Alicia gets her own toothy smile, then a lift of her chin. ~Would you like to put up the howl to hurry on any stragglers?~

Horace comes in from the west, moving slowly, with one of the blankets that usually covers a farmhouse chair draped around his shoulders to keep out the chill. He looks around with nervousness dug deep into his saggy young face, and he doesn't head for the growing gathering of Garou, but instead moves towards his packmate White Bear. He gives the Ahroun a wordless hello and extends his hands to him as he approaches, to sniff and let him know where he's been.

Melting into the Crinos form, Guards-The-Flame nods her head towards Megan, offering her own grin in return, before tilting her chin upwards and bellowing out a long soulful howl to the sky, allowing her voice to raise in pitch.

From Center of the Caern, Guards-The-Flame can be heard to howl, ~Come brothers and sisters to the heart of Gaia, where we gather tonight beneath the watchful eye of Luna!~

White Bear picks himself up, tail wagging behind him as he greets Untangler. He sniffs at Horace's hands, working his way to the Ragabash's feet. He looks like he's going to tell Horace something, but the howl from the Galliard cuts off anything. He turns his watch to the gathering group, Horace forgotten for the moment.

Isaac makes his way down into the caern not long after the Galliard has raised her call. When he reaches the center he pauses, shakes out his ruff, and then looks up at Megan with a wolfen grin.

Finds-The-Path peers up at his Elder, watching her with all the signs of pride and warmth as her call rings out.

Severs finds someplace to throw himself down--not quite gathered with the group, but not way off in the windy spot either.

Horace smiles back at White Bear, his lips stretched tight away from his teeth like he's got a hook in the corner of his mouth. His nervousness dissipates, some of it, as he slowly folds himself up into a sit beside his packmate, dividing his attention between him and the crowd at the centre.

Holds-the-Line flattens her ears under Megan's displeasure, but doesn't press the issue. Instead she rises to pad a few nervous steps away from the Adren before sitting again.

Olga digs into her bag and begins the task of spreading out blankets to sit down on. The Gnawer's brought a little plastic zip-lock bag full of celery sticks and more celery sticks and she pulls these out too: perhaps she's on a diet. After the crinkling of plastic and the heavy thump of sitting herself down, all the sound she makes is a satisfied, monotonous crunching.

Megan waits a minute or so longer for said stragglers to possibly arrive, before looking around those that are here with a rueful smile and a slight sigh. ~I am glad that those of you here have chosen to attend. Galliards, elders, you will need to pass this on to those who did not. It has been some time since I have heard the traditions of the Moot being discussed or taught, and I thought doing so outside of Moot would be useful.~ She looks around and focuses on Karl, giving him a wider show of her teeth, then asks him, ~Tell me, Theurge, can you name the five parts of the Moot?~

Shifting back down into the homid form, Alicia takes in a deep breath and pulls her jacket a bit closer to her person, reaching out with a hand to run her fingers through Finds-The-Path's fur, giving him a firm scritch.

Isaac looks from Megan to Karl, and his ears perk forward. He rises and bounds over to his Theurge packmate unaware of the question, and unmindful of Karl's answer.

As Olga settles herself in her blankets she looks over at Finds-the-Path and offers him a faint grimacing grin of sympathy as he's put on the spot; it quirks up just at the end in the equivalent of a facial thumbs-up, then she goes back to eating celery.

Finds-The-Path's deep brown eyes eyes close smugly, and his brushy tail flicks with contentment. When the Sept Alpha speaks his eyes creak open, and when he is directly spoken to, he nervously replies, ~The Opening of the Sky, Shouting Down the Fool, The Cracking of the Bone, The Challenge Master... and the Revel.~

One of Megan's long, feathery eyebrows quirks up at Finds-the-Path's response, a slight shaking of her head, when she scans the crowd again, this time finding White Bear. ~Would you like to take a stab at it, Ahroun?~

Megan adds, ~In the traditional order?~

Horace's hands begin to fidget as Megan asks White Bear, and his shoulders twitch, as he looks with slow but nervous glances between the two. The boy looks very much like he wants to whisper in his packmate's ear, but he somehow restrains himself.

Pathfinder's ears splay as he lowers his head. He greets silently greets Isaac at his side, but his attention is mostly on White Bear, and hopefully, the correct answer.

White Bear blinks, clearly shocked that he was being addressed. He, after all, thought he wasn't part of that group. The guardian stands up, peering back over nervously. White Bear thinks first the Howl is given to gather the moot... and then the calling of the litany where the fool is shown to be foolish... he searches the Caern, catching the boulder to add that then they open the inner sky for the Sept totem. They then crack the bone... he searches, looking over to Fostern Galliard as he finishes with that after that they tell the stories. He gradually looks back over at Megan's knees, hesitantly watching for her pronouncement.

~Better,~ Megan approves, ~but still not quite. Between the two of them, though. You missed the Revel,~ she tells the ahroun. ~Five parts, one part where a person of each auspice tends to take prominence. The first of which, the Calling of the Litany, also includes a Galliard, but it is the time for the Ragabash to shine. Guards-the-Flame, since you have done that part a lot, do you want to explain it?~

Bites pads down into the caern, ears alert and nose in the air. Catching the scent of the large group,, she heads in their direction, finding her pack among them.

Pushing up to her feet, Alicia brushes down her pants for a moment, before speaking in a clear, loud voice which resonates through the Caern. "The Calling of the Litany is vital to our people in many ways. It brings old back into new, firstly. The Litany are the rules and laws of the Garou of which we abide by. Once the Master of the Howl opens up the Moot with the howl, which also represents the mood of the Moot - the Galliard and a chosen Ragabash then begin to cite and dispute the litany amongst each other, and the gathered Sept. Why is this important?" She asks, glancing about the eyes of those before her. "It is important because it wields tradition. It reminds us of who we are and where we are from. It helps us reaffirm our ties to the Sept, the pack, their tribe, as well as tradition. The Fool's job is to re-evaulate the Litany so to speak, foolishly mocking its sacred laws and embellishing of why we do not need them. The Sept in turn, argues back, throws taunts, grows angry, gets the rage and blood pumping." She says with a slight tug of her lips.

Horace's smile widens as Alicia goes over the various duties of the Fool. There's a definite pride in his face, it goes a deeper red than normal, a bright coppery colour like burning metal. He reaches out to scratch White Bear's ruff, and smiles widely up at Bites the Spider as she approaches.

White Bear doesn't seem terribly distressed at the pronouncement that he got the wrong answer, spending more energy enjoying the packmate's touch. The others, it seems, are just a curious distraction from what he would normally be doing anyhow.

Megan grins agreement at Alicia's response, but then looks around. ~And, I should add something, which I forgot--the Moot itself, is our way of affirming our society, our people, and because of that, the offices and business of the Moot is, traditionally, handled in our Mother Tongue, so that all--homid, lupus, and mules--may understand. That said--do any of you have any questions of Guards-Flame, or Untangler, who was Fool at our last Moot, as to how to fill those positions?~

Horace's smile dips a little at the mention of the Mother Tongue, but it transforms into a look of dumb fear as Megan opens the floor to any questions directed at him. His teeth come apart and his mouth hangs open, he looks around as if to find something to hide behind. The largest thing he can find is White Bear, and the boy wriggles in tighter against the white wolf, and slightly behind, so that only his head and shoulders are peeking up above.

Holds-the-Line wonders if it is customary here for the Galliard and the Fool to meet before the Moot? It was not done that way where she was trained, but she acknowledges that customs vary from Sept to Sept.

Isaac headbutts Karl and then sits back on his haunches, tongue lolling. He licks his whiskers and closes his jaws, almost biting his tongue, and looks over toward the Guardians.

White Bear, being not terribly large at all, makes a very poor cover.

Horace looks terribly on the spot. Even distant as he is from the gathering it's like the windy spot is suddenly a stage and the Caern centre is full of stadium seats; his hands stop scratching at White Bear's fur and begin kneading instead, tugging and twisting, though not very hard and certainly without malice. He seems to have, in his nervousness, forgotten or missed the fact that he could leave it to Alicia to answer, as he calls out in a rather screechy, broken high voice, "No! No, no we don't. I didn't. We didn't I mean. No."

"Good question Holds-The-Line. It is not custo--." Alicia pauses, finding herself cut off by the Ragabash, grinning slightly as she shifts her shoulders back a bit. "...What he said. The pair doesn't have to meet to get together to recite the litany back and forth to one another. There isn't any choreography involved."

White Bear gives Horace a quiet growl, clearly not liking how the Ragabash is hurting his skin. His butt swings, giving the Ragabash a solid 'hip check' and a meaningful look.

Horace didn't even realize he was doing it, so the realization takes him by as much surprise as the retaliation. "Sorry," he whispers to the Ahroun as he looks down, physically shrinking away from the gathering as Alicia takes over the question-answering after his blurted answer.

Holds-the-Line licks her lips as she considers these answers. That is what I wished to know. Thank you both.

Bites's eyes shine with amusement as she views the antics between Horace and White Bear. The Wendigo theurge then finally settles to the ground beside the two of them. Her ears come forward in silent attention.

~Any more?~ Megan asks but then seeing no sign of questions forthcoming, continues on with, ~The next part is the Opening of the Inner Sky, traditionally the time of the Theurge.~ The perceptive might notice in the darkness of the occluded nighttime the Fianna grimacing a little before looking towards Severs. ~Cutter, would you like to cover this part?~

Severs blinks, his ear twitching in mild surprise. Shifting as he takes his feet, he leans on his cane to support himself until he stands upright. "I would be honored to offer what limited wisdom I possess to this forum, Megan-rhya."

Cutter says "The Opening of the Inner Sky is how the caern reaffirms our ties with the spirits of the caern, and shows our respect for them by inviting them to join us." He wets his lips before continuing. "In this caern, or at least with this totem, it's a much... more dramatic rite than I've seen elsewhere. The Caller of the Wyld begins by calling the five winds, and asking them individually to attend the moot. If there are other spirits associated with the caern, they will often be called next. Finally, the Caller requests the presence of the caern's totem spirit--or spirits."

As if on cue, preceded by a dull flash like a magnesium flare wrapped in gauze, a metre-long cockroach comes scurrying out of the empty air, just a little ways off the ground in front of Cutter's feet. It's moving even before it lands with a heavy thump that knocks buckles its thin legs, but it shakes its head, making giant antennae waggle about, and continues along. It's a shiny brown throughout, a normal cockroach in every respect except for its size and its eyes, which shine a bright grey and look rather fiendishly clever, and for the terrible hurry with which it moves, the creature just seems to exude impatience. It definitely knows where it's headed, for as soon as it finds its feet again it's scuttling rapidly towards Manitou's Ridgeline, without even a glance at the Theurge above, or at anyone. There's nothing in its movement to suggest ill intent; in fact it looks very much like it has a job to do which it just wants done, so it can go do other, more important things.

Cutter stumbles back two steps, looking much more surprised, and falls heavily on his hip as his foot shoots out from under him.

White Bear blinks as the spirit comes into the realm, jerking to his paws as his whole posture reads of shock. As the spirit heads for the general area he's in, he grows skittish, taking a step back and squinting at the spirit. He looks to Bites long enough to make a silent, wordless query.

Horace is just as shocked as White Bear but decidedly less responsive. It's only when the Ahroun steps back that he scrambles to his feet, sending low, sweeping, suspicious glances between the spirit and his packmates, especially Bites.

Finds-The-Path blinks and stares, utterly fixated on the cockroach, eyes following it's every move.

Holds-the-Line, who had been watching Cutter with polite interest, doesn't notice the giant cockroach until after the Theurge stumbles and falls. Doing a double-take no doubt amusing to see, the pale wolf straightens immediately, eyes on the spirit and ears cupping, radar-like, to track its path. She doesn't seem to realize its final destination.

Isaac leans against Karl, gaze skipping from the spirit to its destination to his packmate to the Alpha, and around again.

The cockroach continues along at its rapid pace, quite oblivious of everything in the world, even its supposed target. Finally once it's within a few metres it stops flat and stares up at White Bear, its sharp, clever eyes looking well-affixed to some mundane task or other.

Emma remains silent as she watches, though her eyes are filled with interest and, once it stops in front of White Bear, pure amusement.

Glancing over at the cockroach, Alicia's lips quirk back a bit with a slight grin upon her face. "Anyone got any crackers. Last Walker pack I used to run with, our roach loved those things, made the l'il guy happy and shit." She glances over at White Bear as it stops before him, raising up a brow.

Unlike the other members of Ridgeline, Bites remains where she is, eyes intently following the spirit even as her nose works the air to gets its scent. The only time she breaks her gaze from the great cockroach is to look briefly to White Bear, to gauge his reaction.

White Bear lowers his posture as the Roach stops in front of him, tail wrapping around his thigh as he looks down at the spirit. Without looking at Bites, he asks the pack's theurge if she knows what it wants? He sniffs hesitantly in the spirit's direction, unblinking.

The cockroach shudders visibly, looking mildly annoyed, as it approaches whatever its task seems to be. It stops a second then shudders again though with less feeling this time: its feet twitch and its head shakes and bobs, its antennae rattling around and scraping the ground. With a final stomp of its front two feet that looks more forced than annoyed, it turns away and scampers back towards the Caern centre with that same blurry many-legged rush. (*Cockroach has decided that his goals and yours do not meet. I wish I could say it's been a pleasure doing business with you but it hasn't. You hold men and the city in too much contempt to see their usefulness, you let your heart blind your mind and you can be no true son of Cockroach. Therefore we have decided to part ways. You no longer have Cockroach's blessing and he has revoked from you his many gifts. If you ever rethink your position, I hope this doesn't sour you on any future potential partnership. Good day, and goodbye!*)

Megan has been taking all of this in with a start of surprise which she recovers from quickly, but then looks to the four identifiable theurges with another arch of a long-haired eyebrow, teeth bared a little in wariness.

Bites is about to tell White Bear the spirit had greeted him, but by the time she does it is already scurrying away. With a sightly perplexed whine, she watches it all the way.

Severs also looks to Bites, apparently hesitant to step in on another's business.

White Bear cants his head, picking himself off his haunches as he hurries on after the spirit. He's confused as all get out, his posture being pretty clear on that issue, not quite sure what is going on.

Just as busily as it left the air seems to part for the spirit and in a similar but even more muted flash as it came with, it disappears into the Umbra.

If anyone should look to Pathfinder, they will find him with sympathetic eyes upon White Bear.

Bites's hackles rise, and the theurge licks her lips. She meets Severs gaze, briefly, and then turns back to White Bear. The Wendigo does not look pleased to be the one to relay the spirits message, but she gathers herself to do it just the same. There is a shift up to the near-wolf in order to best communicate. ~White Bear, the spirit says you hold the city, and men, in too much contempt to be one of its children. Cockroach has withdrawn his blessing from you. You... let your heart blind your mind, and so can be no true son of cockroach.~

Pack> Megan's muted dislike has vanished, being replaced by mild wariness mingled with only slightly more intense curiousity.

Isaac's ears twitch, and without taking a step, he sniffs toward the departing spirit. He starts, jumping backward, when it disappears.

Holds-the-Line watches the cockroach until it disappears with an inaudible *crack*; her head snaps up to goggle at White Bear, then Bites, then White Bear again. The Galliard whines once, confused, then backs another quick step away from Megan.

Horace holds his breath; he doesn't know what to say or do, once Bites gives her translation. His hands ball up into little fists and his teeth dig into his lip. The boy watches White Bear for his reaction, silent and uncertain, his expression strained.

Severs dips his head. You have been released.

Kenneth makes his way towards the center of the caern alone, lightly misted from the steam cooling and dewing on his clothing. Seeing the other Garou gathered, he clears his throat once to announce his presence and hangs along the outer edge of the crowd. The Slord spots Severs however, and his eyes fall upon his ranking tribemate.

Megan blinks once in reaction to this news, but then looks between Bites and Severs, since he spoke up. ~Released, what does that mean?~ she asks cautiously.

Olga stares down at her bag of celery after the spirit's disappearance, she doesn't once look up at the Guardian pack. Her staring is almost obsessive; after a few seconds silence she lurches her hand out to grab for her baggie, and the silence is replaced by crunched celery.

Yi slips down from a differing direction, looking like she is in a bit of a hurry. The Gnawer slows when she spots the crowd as well as her packmates and lowers her head a level apologetically, especially when she sees some of the confused or uncertain faces on the gathered Garou.

Bites is hesitant to answer Megan at first, but after another look to Severs, and then to White Bear, she says, ~Cockroach has taken revoked his blessing and taken back his gifts. He wishes White Bear good luck in the future...potential partners.~

"Looks like White Bear got kicked out." Alicia says rather bluntly as she plants her hands behind her in the grass, glancing over to the Ahroun with some concern in her eyes.

~I understood that White Bear could... possibly... rejoin if he changed his stance on the Scab?~ Pathfinder says to Bites, seeking clarification on this alternative interpretation from the other Spirit-Talkers present.

Isaac turns his attention fully to his packmate and makes himself smaller to lick at Karl's muzzle, concerned, but not clear about what or why.

Severs glances at Pathfinder. This seems to be an option. If it were wished.

Holds-the-Line holds herself as though she might break and run at any second. Her ears flick first to one Theurge, then another as they discuss the spirit's visit and message.

Bites agrees with Pathfinder by lowering her muzzle, but there is also in her aspect a look that suggests she believes White Bear would more willingly wear a pink tutu and dance at the center of the caern.

Emma lets out an audible huh. Her knees pull up to her chest in her seated position and she lowers her chin down to rest on them, watching everything from a quiet, spectator-like way.

White Bear twists his path into a 'u' as the spirit disappears at the Caern's centre. He curves to the waterfall, skidding to a halt at the water at its base to stare down into his own reflection.

Yi slips up beside Alicia, voice lowered to a whisper but no doubt audible to the lupus. "What's going on?" she asks, looking from face to face.

Megan looks from the theurges to Holds-the-Line briefly, giving the Galliard a scowl, before turning to look to White Bear. Gently, in a voice only her packmates and Isaac have probably ever heard her use before, she calls out to White Bear, ~It sounds as if you will need to think once again where your place is, Ahroun, and if you choose to remain in the Woods, to once again consider a new tribe, like we talked of in the springtime. If you need guidance, I will listen.~

Alicia leans over and softly whispers to Yi. "Looks like roach came and visited White Bear, said that um... his outlook on the city is no good and that he can't be one of 'em. So .. he has to.. either become a Walker and accept the city in his heart, or find a new family." Her voice is soft, whispering to her Gnawer pack mate.

Kenneth slowly folds his arms over his chest, flat expression gradually fading into a mild frown as he finds out details from observing. Another quiet throat clearing later, he chooses a spot to better watch from, shifts to his lupus form and lies down upon his stomach with ears turned towards the gathering.

Bites's ears lay flat. ~Bear, wait,~ she says, moving to catch up with her ahroun packmate. Megan's offer makes her stop and look back, uncertain now whether she should follow or not.

Horace's eyes move more rapidly than they're accustomed to between Bites and White Bear; there's panic in them, like he's not entirely sure what's going on. He doesn't say anything but he slinks slowly after White Bear towards the pool, keeping at a distance, not knowing whether he should offer comfort or peace. His face is awkward and twisted.

Finds-The-Path's eyes are fully on White Bear, even as he returns a lick to Isaac's ear.

Yi's eyes widen and go directly to look at White Bear, before she squats down and shifts her gaze back. "I guess it was a matter of time before something like this would happen."

Megan gives Bites a non-commital, right-shouldered shrug for the look, but then looks back at the rest of the Garou, giving Yi a smile of greeting that is on the verge of a more martial baring of teeth. ~ So, uhm, we just finished the Opening of the Inner Sky. The next part is the Cracking of the Bone.~

Pack> Megan is radiating a kind of coiled tension through the link at odds with the tone of voice.

Bites continues on toward her packmate, padding quietly to the water and disappearing into the umbra.

Severs whuffs and lies back down.

Pack> Alicia sends soothing thought murmurs Megan's way.

Horace follows the rest of his pack, though it takes him a little while to smoothe out his worry and concentrate on the Umbra.

Yi returns the smile with a wilted version of her own, no doubt made uncomfortable by something else. Her squat turns into a sit as she rocks back onto her heels and tries to relax on the ground, watching the Guardians disappear one by one.

Holds-the-Line's teeth click together several times, as if she were chewing an intangible bone. She watches first White Bear, then the other Wendigo disappear before reluctantly dragging her attention back to the Alpha, her ears flat and crouching submissively.

Horace follows the rest of his pack, though it takes him a little while to smoothe out his worry and concentrate on the Umbra. It takes him even longer to realize he's not going anywhere, but he keeps on trying, deep furrows nestling into his forehead.

Dagger's-Edge contents himself as best he can, tail flicking lightly as he watches one scene after the other before returning his attention onto the sept alpha. A paw rises to bat at his muzzle, but that doesn't stifle the wide yawn which escapes him.

It's back to business for Pathfinder, now that the spirit and (most of) those it has affected most have departed for The Other Side. He turns his eyes back to the Alpha.
Isaac licks his nose. Though he glances often toward the waterfall, he's mostly focused once again on Megan.

Megan blows out a whuff of breath through her muzzle, then pulls her shoulders straighter under the coat. ~The Cracking of the Bone is the time of the philodox. It is the time for the Truthcatcher to mediate disputes so that all know the outcome, oversees the business of the Sept, for Challenges to be announced. We use a bone, a real bone, to symbolize the order our auspice balances the rage with, and it is traditional for only those holding the bone to speak, else the Cracking fall into chaos. Like all parts of the Moot, we use the Mother Tongue to present the issues, so all may understand. After the Cracking, it is the time for the Galliard, and the Stories.~ And here she looks to Holds-the-Line. ~Would you speak on that part?~

Holds-the-Line blinks, ears flicking momentarily forward as she's called on. Stories keep us connected to our past, she explains, slowly gaining confidence as she speaks. They remind us of our own deeds and those of ancient heroes. They are the way the Sept knows of what happens here at the Caern and elsewhere, and often the only way news is spread.

Yi looks back to the lesson distractedly, but raises a hand as if she were in actual class and sitting behind a desk.

Holds-the-Line catches Yi's hand out of the corner of one eye and turns her head toward the Ragabash. Stiffly, she asks if she had anything to add.

The sounds of the moot reach him distantly, and Horace slowly seems to come to the realization that he's not going anywhere tonight. Concentration on the boy's face is replaced by frustration, his little hands ball into tight fists and he stares down at the pool like he wants to punch it. His face turns red as he looks up at the others, and he sinks down behind the pool, hiding his shame from the assembled Garou, and he stays like that.

"Just a small question," Yi elaborates when she's caught the attention of the speaker. "Who was the first to determine the order of things done in the moot?"

One of the Walker's ears flicks backwards. Follows the White Bear told them in the proper order.

Yi shakes her head. "I meant..." she states a bit more slowly, trying to rephrase her question. "Who, in the times now past, determined that the moot would follow such an order? It is more a question of, who taught the first Garou that all moots should be this way?"

Megan's face splits into a wide grin, but then looks to her Galliard packmate and Holds-the-Line with bemusement, waiting to see if either of them answers.

Holds-the-Line understands now, and says so with an embarrassed shuffling of her paws. She adds further that she does not know, though likely the Fianna would claim so. This last is added with an apologetic tilt of her head for the Sept Alpha, lest she take offense.

A slight grin tugs upon the corners of Alicia's lips. "I suppose it'd be a good argument between the Fianna and the Silver Fangs, of who created the first moot and thus created each role and the way it is shaped. I don't think it was any one person." She says with a lick of her lips. "Perhaps, if one was to guess, the first wolf of each tribe, when they had their first meeting, after the dawn of man."

Yi smiles back at Holds, but dips her head to the galliard's answer. "There are many stories lost to the Garou, I would think, but I think it is very interesting. The way moots are called here are not the way moots are performed elsewhere." She scratches the side of her face lightly, glancing to Alicia.

Megan gives Holds-the-Line a measured look, but then blinks at surprise at Yi. ~They do things differently from the traditions? Oh, Bone Gnawer Septs?~ she guesses.

Yi's mild scratching turns into a small rub at the back of her neck. "Well, more like, in my home sept, it was told to me of many different kinds of gatherings. Not all of the different shapeshifters hold to the same rules. I would think not even the Stargazers there have such... sections of their moot." Her eyes slide down to the grass at her feet.

Dagger's-Edge tilts his head at the Walker, tongue momentarily flickering out to lick the side of his jaw. He rumbles a vague thought aloud that wolves would not stand to such rigid structure, but wolf-changers would think up such a thing because of their human half. Humans are all about making things go in order, fitting into categories.

Olga offers Megan a look that, before it quite gets to her, starts off as a dull almost-glare, but immediately upon reaching the Elder's form it scampers back to her lap to focus on her blankets. Slowly it quirks into a faint grin, and she grumbles rather good-naturedly, "Yeah. 'Least we serve drinks."

Megan levels a look at Dagger's Edge which is matched with a set jaw, her tone cool as she says, ~And so are the philodox. The last part of Moot is the Revel,~ she sweeps on with, ~the time of the ahroun, when the tensions of Stories are unleashed in the hunt. The Revel may take many forms, but is frequently a clearing of the Wyrm and Weaver on the edges of the Bawn, or the hunt for a spirit called an Engling, which sacrifices its form to infuse us with a stronger connection to Gaia. And when the Hunt is done, the Moot is ended.~

Holds-the-Line gives herself a good shake and sits once more, not answering the Shadow Lord's thinking-out-loud.

Dagger's-Edge sticks out a bit of his tongue's tip to Megan in mild apology for noting his opinion, before settling his head on his forepaws and silently watching again. Hackles that threaten to lift are smoothed and kept flat with a snort from the Lord.

Yi looks around again, before slowly raising her hand again. "If the Revel is not performed, what becomes of the night's Moot?"

~We miss the chance to share in the grace of Gaia,~ Megan answers with a slight edge to her voice, but less than her previous words. ~And the Caern is not re-charged in the energy we give to it. We are all lessened.~

Yi nods slowly at the Alpha's answer, but falls silent afterwards with gaze going out to the others.

Megan scans those still here, then lets out a huff of breath which comes deep from within her chest. ~I want to thank all of you for the honor of showing, and I hope that this was good information to take back to your tribemates and the others of the Sept who need it.~

Severs rises slowly to his feet and shakes himself. This was a useful moot.

Holds-the-Line offers after a moment, and with a hesitant lifting of one paw, to share the story of Bends-the-Rules-While-Smiling. Since neither he nor Endures-Pain is here to speak.

Alicia flashes a grin to her pack mate, then pushes upwards to her feet once more. "I wouldn't miss it for the world. Stuff like this brings people together."

Dagger's-Edge rises as Severs does, the philodox looking towards the Lord theurge with clear intent of attempting to get his attention.

Yi smiles and nods once again too, glancing over to Holds-the-Line briefly before a curiosity overcomes her. "What sort of story?"

Olga stops munching on her celery long enough to raise her hand in half-wave to the assembled, as if to say, `goodbye, and thanks for all the celery`. She doesn't rise up though: she seems quite comfortable nestled in her blanket. She looks over at Holds-the-Line when she offers her story though, suddenly curious, leaning forward and scratching at an itchy spot behind her ear. "That's the surly one, right?" she asks, trying to nail down the deed-name.

Finds-The-Path chuffs a sincere Thankyou to Megan. He has learnt from the experience.

Alicia settles herself back down to her knees as Natalie appears to be heading into a story, then leans into Yi to get comfortable.

Isaac turns a tight circle and heads over to the waterfall.

Holds-the-Line stands with another shake that sends her swiftly back through hispo and crinos, and back into her breed form. "Marcus, yes." She hooks her thumbs into her pockets and shifts so that she's half-facing Megan, and half-facing the others. "He got back from New York on Monday. Everything -seemed- all right, at least that I could see. I was planning on having him sniffed here, actually. But then Scratch came to me on Tuesday, oh, about six or so, and said Marcus'd been acting weird."

Severs glances at his tribe mate, and at the story teller, indecisively.

With the class done and the temperature near freezing now that it's later in the night, Megan shivers and shifts as well, but down to lupus, the wolf form sporting a thick winter coat. Her breath mists the air as she moves over to flop down next to Alicia, spine against the Galliard's legs, her ears pricked alertly towards Natalie. In this form which hides so little, though, some of the contempt she feels is visible.

Alicia reaches out and runs her fingers through the Lupine's fur at her legs, giving her a good scritching behind the ears, her attention focused upon the Glass Walker.

Yi gets an even worse chill with mention of Marcus. The Gnawer ragabash doesn't seem to like the mentioned Walker very much, and Holds' introduction just makes things seem more suspicious. She waits for the revelation on what was strange about the halfmoon's behavior.

Nat turns to follow Megan, waiting until the Philodox is comfortable before continuing. She appears oblivious to the opinion most people have of her tribe's elder. "Well, he came out of his office and was ranting about order and chaos and stuff - granted, the room was a mess, but hey, I'd been packing, right? Anyway, he started to lose it so Scratch distracted him and I took Marcus out, then called Jana. She came over and checked him for Wyrm taint, but didn't find any. So then we thought, well, if not Wyrm taint, what about Weaver? We decided to run a Rite of Cleansing on him. Had to bring him out to the Bawn, since there wasn't enough privacy back at our place."

Dagger's-Edge turns his golden eyed gaze from his tribemate to storyteller, and slowly sits back down. Clearly, he can be patient for a little while longer.

Megan's ears flatten to her skull. Did you speak to the Warder before you ran the Rite on the Bawn?

Yi narrows her gaze, trying to puzzle out the situation before Megan notes about contacting the Warder. The ragabash glances back to Nat, brows arching like she was watching a tennis match and things just got more interesting.

Natalie shakes her head with a wry little twist to her mouth. "We didn't. Frankly, I didn't think of it. I just wanted to get him fixed, you know? Anyway, as Jana sprinkled him with the pure water, it started to bubble and fizz. Ate through his clothing like it was battery acid. And when we howled..." She pauses, her eyes going vague for a heartbeat and head shaking in memory. "When we howled, he screamed, only it sounded like... like rush-hour traffic, like electronics' squeal, white noise, car horns. Like all of that, and more, coming out of his mouth. Then all of a sudden he went limp. Unconscious. Couple minutes more and he came to, only he wasn't really all there. Scratch and I bundled him back to my place and we watched over him. So yesterday, when he woke up, he was fine. Better than fine. All clean and shiny and... squeaky."

Dagger's-Edge quirks his head, a small whine of question escaping the halfmoon. Squeaky?

Firewatcher's ears flatten. Like Ever-Grinning. And the mule.

Severs pricks up his ears.

Yi looks back to Firewatcher for her reaction, but mention of Ever-Grinning makes the ragabash furrow her brow. "So... what does this mean? The Weaver possessed him?"

Alicia blinks her eyes slightly. "Damn, like the Borg or something." She rubs at her ear slightly in thought, glancing over to Yi.

"Squeaky-clean?" Nat offers to the Shadow Lord before shifting back to Firewatcher. "Pardon? Ever-Grinning and the mule?" She doesn't add a verbal 'ma'am', but it's there in her posture and tone.

Pack> Firewatcher seems to be emoting a feeling of recognition, one that heightens in agreement at Alicia's comment.

"Ever-Grinning, our pack mate has a metal hand. Got it yanked off awhile ago, so he has a new one.. a fetish." Alicia explains, glancing to Firewatcher. "But.. I don't know about the Squeaks thing."

Yi ahs slowly, but this doesn't seem to make the ragabash any more or less settled. "But Ever-Grinning does not sound like traffic or computer modems," she notes.

Firewatcher's tongue licks her nose in a nervous gesture. Not Squeaks. The other mule. I do not remember his deed name. A Galliard of the Fianna. The Philodox looks distasteful at that as well, then looks from packmate to Natalie. Ever-Grinning's hand was lost when he was taken by spirits of the Weaver, along with the Galliard mule. The metal hand he has was given to him by the Bright Ones.

Dagger's-Edge isn't satisfied with the Walker's explanation, but looks onto Firewatcher with interest in his perked up ears and stiffer posture.

Olga's attention is certainly piqued, and she fluffs out her blanket and settles her mouth down on a bit of green, clenching it tight between her teeth but not chewing. She looks at Natalie curiously, waiting for things to explain themselves. When they do she asks, with a raspy and curious voice, "So, uh, what done it? I know Wyrm-taint alright, but how's the Weaver do it?"

Severs cocks his head. Much in the same way the Wyrm does. Or the Wyld.

Natalie pulls one hand from a pocket to rub at her cheek. "Metal hand?" she inquires, clearly fishing for the story. "I didn't know he -had- a metal hand, much less that the... Bright Ones? gave it to him." She glances over at Olga's question. "Huh? Oh, what he told me was that he was out patrolling, and then lost a chunk of time. He didn't think... well, no. There was this voice in his head, talking to him. Nice and sweet at first, then more and more, um, controlling. As time went on. And it told him not to tell anyone about the missing time. He said it was like being bundled up in sticky webs. That was a few weeks before he came back home, I guess."

Yi looks between her packmates with an uncertain expression before looking back to Natalie. "What was he doing... in New York?"

Firewatcher stretches her nose out towards Yi, indicating another time, and settles down to look between Glass Walker and Bone Gnawer ragabash for the answer.

"He'd been called back by Family," the Walker explains, tucking her hand back into the pocket of her bomber jacket. "The muckity-mucks had this... thing - that's all I know, he couldn't tell me - that they were trying to keep from getting out of hand, and needed people in the know to do grunt work. So that's mostly what he did. He went in the first place because, well, better to help take care of the problem when it's small than wait for it to grow big and strong, right?"

Yi squints an eye again, but tilts her head to a side. "So, then, does this mean Marcus is back to his 'usual' self? Or is he still acting strangely?"

Natalie frees her other hand to waggle it in a so-so fashion. "Both. I mean, I don't think he's Tainted any more, but he isn't the bigoted Marcus I know and love. But a Cleansing's a Cleansing. It doesn't just get rid of the stuff we don't want, it takes care of -everything-." She angles back to include Megan, both hands burrowing into her pockets again. "He's a lot happier about the Wyld now; suggested, no, /decided/ that our cubs were going to spend time out here before they Rited. But if you want to get him checked again..." She lets this last dangle expectantly.

Olga listens quite nicely to the story, but her attention's distracted and her eyes roam. They catch Severs more than anyone, they tend to linger there. "You can get tainted by the Wyld?" she asks, obviously rather surprised, leaning in towards him, asking in a hoarse hushed voice that still has to travel a fair length and so is still rather loud. "How d'you take care of that? Just a regular Cleansing?"

Dagger's-Edge looks back to the pseudo-conversation between Severs and Olga, though one ear is kept cocked towards the Walker galliard.

Severs snorts, obviously amused. One can be tainted by the Wyld. I was, once. The Rite of Cleansing deals with all taint, no matter which member of the Triad inflicts it.

Yi can't help but be suspicious about the changed Marcus, and looks back to Firewatcher and Alicia briefly. "I am no spirit-doctor, but he should have a 'follow up' check up, I think."

Olga's mouth curls up into a very round "Oh." She goes back to chewing on her celery, with a tight nod of thanks towards the Fostern, perhaps a little embarassed at the simple answer to her simple question.

Alicia rolls her shoulders back a bit as she listens to the gathered Garou, rolling her shoulders a bit in a shrug. "A follow up won't hurt, if there is any true concern."
Natalie continues watching Megan, waiting for her decision.

Severs shifts back to man form, and takes off his hat to display pointed 'Mister Spock' ears, tracing their outline with his finger as he sits on the ground. "Dunno if you can see this, as dark as it is," he says, "But this is an aftereffect."

Dagger's-Edge looks back to Severs as he shifts, and peers with interest at the theurge's ears. The understanding dawns on the young philodox and his tail thumps lightly. Must hear about that one some time, Severs.

Firewatcher's ears flicker with indecision. It cannot hurt. I was planning on going into the city when the moon was smaller to see the den Holds-the-Line mentioned at last Moot, and perhaps help out. The Fianna looks to Natalie. I have a gift of my auspice that can sense the balance of his soul.

Finds-The-Path tilts his head as he studies the pointed ears. Perplexed.

"It... I'd appreciate it, Firewatcher-rhya," the Walker says with a little nod, ignoring or perhaps not hearing the byplay with Cutter. "We'll be moving in on Saturday, and work starts... well, work for everyone /else/ starts Sunday. You're welcome to stop by any time. You've got my cell, if you want to call ahead, right?"

Olga turns back to Severs as he continues speaking, and she peers and leans forward but can make nothing of it. The woman finally just ripples and buckles through her forms until she's in Lupus, making a tangled mess of her blankets. She stares longer than is polite at the pointed ears, and her tail begins to wag. Neat, she indicates, and echoes Dagger's-Edge's statement. She also, a moment later, suddenly finds the taste of her celery absolutely disgusting, and she spits out the vegetable with annoyance.

Yi for a moment, finds humor in Olga's reaction to her green snack. The ragabash holds up a hand to her face, expression scrunching in efforts to keep down a giggle.

Firewatcher lean-bumps into Alicia and looks over to Yi expectantly, before looking back to Natalie. I do, and I will. The Fianna then looks to her packmate, and noses the Galliard hard. I am hungry. I am going to go find something to eat before going back to the Grotto to eat this night. Do you wish to join me?

"Sure thing, I can go for a run myself." Alicia says with a grin as she rises up to her feet, ruffling up Firewatcher's fur a bit playfully. "Thanks for coming guys. See ya'll later." She reaches over and pops Yi on the shoulder.

Yi's withheld snicker causes her to pause and choke up when Firewatcher looks at her, but then she recovers with the shoulder punch. "Huh? Oh...wait... I'll... I'll go with you two," she tells her packmates, scrambling up. She stops in mid getup, realizing that Megan hadn't exactly invited her.

Natalie drops Megan another nod before, unrecognized by the Alpha, she shifts back to lupus and heads off for the edge of the bawn.

Firewatcher seems completely unphased by Yi's inviting herself along, seeming to take it for granted that she would, then heads northwards, up the rocky outcropping path, then north again, out of the Caern.

Dagger's-Edge shakes himself out again once it seems like the 'story' is over, but does look to Natalie briefly, if only for a few seconds, and gets up to move over to Cutter once again. The philodox looks up at him, silent but asking.

Yi eventually gives one last look back before slipping into her own lupus form and chasing after her pack, a short bark echoing out into the forest from the ragabash.