Fair Trade With Star-Caller
4/18/2005
06:46 PM
Logfile from GarouMUSH.
Currently the moon is in the waxing Gibbous Moon phase (65% full).
Currently in Saint Claire, it is partly sunny. The temperature is 58 degrees Fahrenheit (14 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from the east at 7 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 30.28 and falling, and the relative humidity is 47 percent. The dewpoint is 38 degrees Fahrenheit (3 degrees Celsius.)
It is currently 18:22 Pacific Time on Mon Apr 18 2005.
Bawn: Southern Forest(#3017RAJ)
Evergreen trees spread their overhead branches wide across the forest floor. Each tree limb interlinks with its neighbor, forming a thick overhead canopy of pine needles that leaves the forest floor dim even at noon. An apparent tenseness seems to permeate the air here, and there is a somewhat less than subtle feeling that perhaps something is watching. The behavior of the wildlife in the area betrays a certain wariness that suggests the presence of predators nearby.
The southern edge of the bawn is marked here by the railroad tracks which run from St. Claire and Kent's Crossing to the west, towards the mountains to the east.
Contents:
Star-Caller
Obvious exits:
Ash Grove Railroad South Into the Caern Sept Compound Half Moon Pool Western Bawn Central Bawn Eastern Bawn
It's a nice evening, with the sun still up in the sky and broken only by a few sparse clouds. The air is still warm but the breeze is blowing cool, blowing with it the thick, organic smell of a forest in the grips of spring and ready to burst. A wolf lounges in the shade of the old evergreens, spread out on a bed of reddish brown needles that her coat nearly blends into. Her head is outstretched on her paws, though the constant shifting of her ears betrays the wolf isn't asleep.
The distinct clinking of metal reaches wolven ears, as Three-Blades moves through the trees. Deliberately advertising her presence, the ragabash trots through the woods, seeming without any intended destination. If there is a way to describe the Gnawer, it would be that she is enjoying her time outdoors and in the wolf.
Star-Caller lifts her head up off her paws and swings her head around towards the noise. Sucking in a deep lungful of the air, she tries to pick up a scent as she pulls herself up off the ground, giving her coat a shake to free it of any clinging needles and leaves.
Three-Blades isn't hard to scent out today. Distinctly urban scented, the urrah Gnawer slips around trees and between bushes. She hasn't scented out the Uktena just yet.
Once the scent is recognized, the halfmoon sits herself back on the ground once more. Tilting her chin up, she gives a low and airy howl, the kind not meant to travel far but simply to announce one's presence or greet another nearby. In this case, more of both.
Three-Blades pauses in midstep, forepaw lifted as she turns head and ears to the howl. In reply, the ragabash yips back in a friendly and identifiable fashion before diverting her wandering path and making her way towards the Uktena. It isn't long, and her metal chokechain jangling around as she trots can be heard to come closer and closer until Three-Blades' distinct rusty red and ivory patterned, not-quite-wolf but not-quite-dog lupus form comes out of the woodwork in front of the philodox. Star-Caller, hello. The ragabash's tail and posture are held neutral, regarding the other as a near equal.
Star-Caller is also poised in a neutral, if not casual stands with her rump on the ground. Ears pricking up, the red wolf chuffs out before a yawn captures her attention. Tonight is quiet. She points out, if her yawn already didn't, and the Uktena almost looks bored sitting there and not doing anything.
Three-Blades looks off to the west at the Uktena's proclamation, as if to check if her reply were going to be interrupted. Then she turns back to look upon the halfmoon, sitting herself. No news is sometimes good news, the ragabash remarks with an earflick. But there is plenty to do. Always something to do. The Creator never stops creating. The Maker never stops Making. The Corrupter... never stops corrupting. Three-Blades muzzle-wrinkles at the final statement, once more briefly looking off to the southwest like there were something there. She then turns back to the halfmoon again. Have you heard about the man's-den that is Tainted? Birds with poison fly from it, and man-tame-spotted-buffalo that can jump and bite with poison also, are there. The Gnawer's ears flip back, showing her worry and displeasure at relating such news.
Star-Caller gives her head a swift quirk, ears splaying. She has heard nothing, but she does not speak with many. The philodox pushes herself up off her paws, fur bristling slightly and face turning intent with concentration. Where is this place?
Three-Blades once more looks to the roughly guessed direction of southwest, before she turns her gaze back to the philodox. Corrupted animals have been in the Scab before, but this one has heard from the big Get halfmoon, and the friend ravenchanger that there is a den not far from the cub-safe-den, that is corrupted. Yi can't help that her hackles lift from their flat state, evidencing her worry and agitation. This no-moon has been told to scout it. But not alone. Ravenchanger said it was very dangerous, and hard to scout. Worse and maybe die if scouts are caught. Need to bring others who know how, and others who can help. Here, the ragabash licks her muzzle, turned thoughtful to possibilities and strategies.
Star-Caller is half-moon, but can help. The Uktena replies almost instantly, ears pricked up straight on her skull. Her eyes and ears are sharp and her nose misses little. She will help. She leans her head forward, nose twitching as she sniffs at the Ragabash, her eyes betraying a sudden suspicion. This ravenchanger can be... trusted?
Three-Blades leans off to a side as Star-Caller leans in to sniff, her expression portraying a sort of bewilderment at the Uktena's query. Yes, the Gnawer replies. Finds-Stories is a ravenchanger, friend to the wolves. She was first to find the corrupted man-den, and got very hurt because she tried to scout it alone. She told us where it was. The ragabash then restraightens her posture, chestfur puffing a bit with defensive note for her stance about the Corax. Finds-Stories is a friend to the wolves. She has agreed to help the wolves, but in return, she must Not be harmed by them. The ragabash stares back also intently, like she were feeling out where the philodox's opinion lies. To the halfmoon's offer to help, she does not yet reply.
Star-Caller twitches back a slightly-large ear against her skull as she sinks back down to her haunches. She gives a slight snort of breath as she looks away, towards the southwest where this farm is supposed to be. She has no had good experiences with the ravenchangers. You say this one is a friend, than this one will trust you.
Three-Blades sneezes once, muscles relaxing again once the halfmoon sits again. Finds-Stories and I are friends. Where I am from, ravenchangers are providers of news, have good eyes, swift minds. Not fighters, but very good scouts. No good with keeping secrets though. This much said, the Gnawer tilts her head at the philodox. You said you can help - this is good. I will gather maybe one or two more. Too many will be too easy to see. We will go before the moon turns away from full-eye. We will go at night, when maybe the tainted animals are sleeping.
Star-Caller affirms that she will come, she just needs to know when. The Uktena tilts her head to one side and reaches up with a hindleg to get at an itch on her ruff, freeing some of the thicker winter coat she is slowly shedding. She will be here on the bawn when you need her. Though she has much to do, this is more important.
Three-Blades skips her tail over the dirt in a light wag, pleased to hear that she has finally gotten an answer from someone who wants to help her. The ragabash then adds, with a long whining yawn of slight fatigue, that she has told her elder about the Uktena philodox as well. How her pack alpha asked her to talk to Family-alpha, Fat-Ripper, and some ~rites~ and teaching.
Star-Caller gives a slight twitch of her ear at this and shrugs herself up into the near-wolf for better range of words. ~Firewatcher has decided on another task for me. I am to Reconcile the fight between Holds-the-Line and Pierces-the-Ice. If your elder would wish, I can still teach her the Rite of Sevens, but it will not be until after I finish what I have been asked to do.~
Three-Blades tilts her head at this, part in wondering why Firewatcher would put one task on hold in favor of another. Then, after half a minute's worth of thinking it over silently, the Gnawer bobs her muzzle in the air with a human-feeling nod of understanding. Fat-Ripper is also busy herself, teaching Gnawer cubs. She will understand. Something about what Star-Caller says, though, doesn't sit well with the ragabash. Her ears have tilted back, slightly flattened. In the unconcealable way of the wolfform, the Gnawer portrays her dislike for Holds-the-Line, and a sense of guilt towards the name of Pierces-the-Ice.
Star-Caller also seems slightly deflated, but more in spirit than body. ~I have much to do here and I am not even one of the sept yet.~ Letting out a loud snort, the hispo stretches herself out and settled down onto her belly. ~I do not even know what this fight is about.~
Three-Blades tosses her head in a short shake to rid herself of the odd feelings shrouding her wolf-self about the two. She doesn't know either, she tells the philodox, but those two must have had something happen between them. One is Ice-Wind-Maneater's child and likes the woods. The other is Roach's child and lives in the Scab. Expecting them to get along is expecting Get and Unicorn's children to sit together and share happiness and peace.
~I know Pierces-the-Ice, I have spoken with her.~ The Uktena states. ~This Glass Walker I have not. I will have to go into the scab and speak to them.~ Which, by her slightly rigid posture, is not something she is looking forward to. She wouldn't seem like the big city sort of Garou. ~I do not know where they are. Do you?~
Three-Blades splays her ears with mild discomfort when she thinks about the Walkers. The ragabash however, indicates that she does know where they live. The other thing she adds is that the Walker philodox, the scarred one, does not like her at all. And the elder, Holds-the-Line, hates her more for a killing she did long ago. Still, the no-moon laments quietly in a subdued manner, she should try to approach them some time. Walkers-on-Glass and Bone Gnawers do not work well together most of the time though, she notes with a look back to the Uktena. But, if you need someone to bring you there, I can do so.
Star-Caller gives the Bone Gnawer a look that might pass for somewhat apologetic, at least in her serious language. ~I do not want you to go out of your way.~ She says with a low chuff, not missing the discomfort of the other. ~I know the place where my Elder stays. Where must I go from there, if you know of the place?~
Three-Blades doesn't meet Star-Caller's eyes for a long moment, gazing down at her paws for awhile in thought. Gears click and whirr in her mind, turning. Then, the ragabash thumps her tail down upon the dirt in a decision, gaze turning up back to the Uktena with new resolution. It is easy to get lost in the Scab. I will bring you to their safe-den at least. It can be help in return for your help when we scout the corrupt man's-den.
Star-Caller seems satisfied by this exchange and her tail gives a margin of a wag, displacing some of the debris underneath. ~That will work. I might go there as soon as tommorow, if I can. Two days later, if I must. But very soon I will go and speak with them and see what I must do.~
Three-Blades licks the front of her muzzle once more, rising to her paws as she looks to leave once more. Then, when you wish to go, find me at the cub-safe-den. I will be there, teaching Long-Wind and the other new Gnawer cub. Inclining her head once more, this time in a small dip, the ragabash half turns and lowly whuffs to the philodox, We are not /all/ crazy here at the Hidden Walk. All of us, though, have our reasons to be. Her tail swishes behind her in a sort of humor-tilted wag, and then she turns to head off back into the forest, this time towards the west. Good hunting, Star-Caller.
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