Word. Odeon.

9/11/2005

09:17 PM
Logfile from GarouMUSH.

Currently the moon is in the waxing Half Moon phase (55% full).
It is currently 21:13 Pacific Time on Sun Sep 11 2005.

Odeon - Lobby(#4049RJ)
The Odeon's lobby is testament to a faded and perverted glory. The deep crimson carpet is thick in places but in others stubbly as velveteen, and the rich pattern of tangling flowers is everywhere marred by dark stains. The walls are clothed in kingly purple tatters of wallpaper, and covered with faded posters featuring women and men in various states of undress, posing with various degrees of tastelessness, and screaming out titles like "Male Service", "Bang Bang: a Sexual Explosion", and "A Slip of Her Tongue" in garish lettering. There's no light in the room but what comes in from the street, and during the day the actresses look grey and ghoulish, and the bright reds and purples of the room faded and dusky; and at night, the place might as well be covered in thick black paint.
Immediately in front of the entrance is dull matte turnstyle which no longer turns, where once tickets were taken. To the right are a pair of doors which some joker has labelled "Pimps" and "Hos" with red spraypaint: these are the washrooms. To the left are a pair of doorways which lack actual doors, and opposite is a grand set of boarded doors which lead into the theatre proper.
Please check +view for further description.
Contents:
Trent
Obvious exits:
Upstairs  THeatre  Street  

[originally out on the streets...]

Shades-of-Gray sits upright, scratching behind one ear while he waits for Yi to get ready. Fucking fleas. He looks for something to talk about in the empty space and finds himself shrugging. So, cubs are really somethin, huh? He asks, meaning in garou terms instead of biological terms. He assumes that she has had more experience in raising them than he has.

Runner takes her sweet time in making sure everything is clear before she joins the Walker. Cubs are something. Cubs are good, she affirms, though the jaunty cant of her ear suggests a joke on the side. They keep living, and keep life... interesting. One cub has come back to the Gnawers-safeden. You want to meet him?

Sure. Shades-of-Gray waits patiently, understanding the need for security naturally, being a roach and all, and especially having spent several years in Steel Angel. Interesting... isn't the word. His whiskers twitch and he pants for a moment. I pray to Gaia that Tabitha takes my teachings seriously. She seems... a little... well, she is a cub, I suppose. He snorts, remembering how he was as a kid... and realizing that the trouble-making spirit still burns within, despite what efforts he takes to quell it - sometimes.

Runner chuffs sympathetically. Cubs are cubs, no matter the family. They will learn. It is our skills as teachers that is put to the test by fire. The Gnawer ragabash lolls her tongue in a grin, and turns to lead the Walker towards the Odeon. They go through a good number of alleys, obstacles, secret holes. And in the end, it seems like they didn't particularly move very far at all. Still, the ragabash has to push hard against a heavy wooden board before it gives, and she wriggles into the Odeon's lobby halfway. Apparently, she's holding the makeshift doggie-door open for the galliard.

Basil is standing in the near center of the lobby by the time Yi and the man reach lobby, smoking a cigarette with an axe cast over one shoulders. For a Glabro, he looks incredibly bored. Though his shirt is missing for the moment, he's wearing an open ugly green long coat which exposes a wound near his shoulder. He seems to have gotten a plain black eye patch from somewhere, wearing it over his right eye, three long claw marks coming down from under the patch. When Yi starts to wriggle in, he turns and looks over in her direction, raising an eyebrow. "Who goes there, or some shit?"

Shades-of-Gray follows closely, ducking his head, leaping, skitting around corners. He grins all the while, looking around excitedly to try to remember all of the details of the trail for next time. The Walker wolf shimmies through the opening, nodding his thanks as he reaches the other side. I hope she does. I'm a little worried about her attitude. I think she may need a wakeup call soon. --Shit, it's Black Beard! The Walker can't help himself, looking to his escort and then back. Um... word. I don't know the secret handshake. Or... earflick, or tail-wag or whatever.

[look Basil (glabro)]
Puberty seems to have hit someone in a big way. Basil now stands at a height of 5'2", his girly facial features faded away under a hard grimacing mask of masculinity. His already long hair has become wilder then before. A bristling array of thick brown hair sprouts were a beard would be. Not to mention all over his forearms, hands, and sporadically everywhere in sight. Muscle mass has increased nicely, filling out his normally withered build. His nails have grown much longer, blacker then a normal human being's. Then again, no one ever said he was normal...

Runner squeezes out from beneath the board, bumping it back into place with a few shoulder rams before turning and sniffing. The Odeon's putrid, stale and rotting scents aren't exactly the most tolerable of things, but neither were the alleys that the Gnawer and Walker ran through. Out of it all, Runner picks out the cub's scent and she looks towards him. A greeting chuff is sent to the cub. Come, Resists-the-Dance. Meet one of the Roach Wolves. The ragabash flicks her tail. One of the Good ones.

Basil lifts his hand to scratch at the back of his head, sighing just a bit. "I'm not even wearing the one with the skull and cross bones." He walks through the dark at the beckoning of his Elder, his posture only at a slight, usual slump. He's much better than he was in recent days. When he comes within about five feet of the wolves, he shrugs the axe off his shoulder and thunks it head first onto the floor. Both hands on the end of the weapon, he bows to the unfamiliar wolf and murmurs quietly. "I am Basil Resists-the-Dance, Ahroun cub of the Bone Gnawer tribe. Pleased to meet you, sir."

Aww, I'm touched. The Walker lets his mouth fall open, joking, but with a genuine smile back to Runner. Looking back to the cub, he nods his head once. Looks like he has a good start, the wolf reflects. The posture is a step in the right direction, anyway. Trent Anderson - Shades-of-Gray, he bows his head once to the Gnawer cub. Galliard Cliath of the Glass Walkers. The tail wags again as he looks up, and then finally sits.

Runner wags her tail again, pleased with the cub's introduction. Resists fought with a great Get of Fenris, she explains to Shades about the scar. To Basil, the fostern sniffs. Feeling better now? Seconds tick by before the realization crashes atop like a piano dropped from the Empire State. You can talk! The ragabash's ears and tail stick straight up, her eyes widened at the cub with surprise.

Basil nods his head at Trent and rises back up to his usual posture, one hand holding onto the axe like a cane. "I do try, but I was not always like this. I only came to be this way through the excellent teachings of my Elders, Trent-Rhya." He smirks, nodding at Yi. "Yes I can, I've been able to since yesterday. I just haven't run into you. I didn't lose my tongue permanently, thankfully. I just wouldn't be the same without it."

Oh? Shades looks curiously from Runner to Basil. Would this be... Brom we're talking about? He smiles again. I called him Natalie and clocked him in the back of the head. Looking down at himself, he shrugs. No lasting damage, thankfully. Pain remains a wonderful teacher though. The galliard snorts and shakes his head, joking. Maybe I should have Tabitha meet him if she messes up. He seems to have done wonders for you guys.

Runner barks with joy, running a quick circle around the cub with a genuine happiness. Hoped you would heal quick. Knew you would heal quick. It is a genuine happiness to the swift recovery of the cub's condition that has the Gnawer so pleased. She turns back to Shades, tail flagged and waving about in that subconscious posturing. I was so worried, but this is good. Very good. Yes. At Shades' note about Brom though, the ragabash snorts. Forath-Ripper goes too far some times. Better teach your own cubs right first. We do not touch his cubs, but he always growls about ours. On that note, her mood seems to dampen. Talk about raining on the ragabash's parade.

Basil takes a long drag off his cigarette, letting the smoke drift back out as if savoring it. "Yes it was Brom, but he could never change me aside from physically." He chuckles at the thought of Brom's reaction to Trent's joke. "Brom is a good fighter, and probably more honorable than me, but, I don't like him. He's probably one of the only Garou I speak badly of. And he knows it." He smiles at Yi, resisting the urge to pet her. "Of course I recovered quickly, being a Garou and all. My shoulder will be good as new in no time." He pauses, turning back to Trent. "That is Brom for you. Funny, I intend on leading a war pack myself. But mine will be nothing like his, for better or for worse."

I'm sure he's just misunderstood. Shades-of-Gray smirks, shaking his head. Probably the best way to understand him is to drink a keg of beer laced with steroids and then bludgeon yourself over the head with a large club. He didn't realize that Brom was interfering so much with the Gnawers, and hopes he hasn't stepped too far. He likes being called one of the 'good' ones.

Runner rumbles, still discontent, but shakes off the feeling with a quick toss of her fur. Glancing back and forth between the two, the fostern puts forth her comments to both. More war packs? This place needs a few good packs, yes, but maybe calmer, wiser ones. An ear flickers. Or at least, those who know when to rage, and when to be quiet. The Gnawer looks to the cub, confident in him. Then to Shades. You still are visiting only? Or joining?

Basil smirks at Trent. "No, no. I believe for the full Brom experience you'd need to lobotomize yourself, do a bit of crystal meth, then have a forever blazing cactus rammed up your ass while a midget stapled to your head punches you in the face repeatedly." He turns back to Yi, and nods again. "Maybe, but War packs seem to give us the best benefits. I may yet go for something else, but I'm thinking of Weasel. Or, on the subject of something else... Coyote. Maybe Flea, or Bear."

Shades-of-Gray isn't a fan of Flea; he bites at his shoulder. Midget-head... good. Shades smirks after he licks loose fur away from his muzzle. I'll have to remember that. He remains silent for a minute as he ponders how to answer Runner's question. I... am going to roll the dice and go for doubles, he responds, in reference to Monopoly. It would be inappropriate to air tribal problems in front of others - not to mention a sign of weakness, but he feels confident in saying that he wishes to assist the local tribe with some of their problems and put things in order. He is investing in the tribe's betterment, and appears to be here on a more permanent basis - as soon as he finds chiminage to pay.

Runner flicks her ears dually. Weasel is a fierce totem. Flea... different. One of my septmates at the Rat's Tail knew Flea well. And my first pack's alpha, knew Coyote's touch. Bear... Here the ragabash pauses, and rumbles, Would be better to not search for Bear unless you are prepared to heal the wounds of the past. She looks back to Shades, and though calmed, is clear on her opinion of the Walkers at this state. They need help, but do not ask. They do not like the Gnawers now. Maybe because of what I did. Maybe because of what we are. But, that is Holds-the-Line's problem.

Basil smiles brightly at Yi, scratching behind his head again, looking pretty disarming for a Glabro. "Hey, I can be pretty fierce sometimes!... I just don't see a need to be fierce with you guys. Swinging my dick around only proves that I have good wrist control." He glances between them. "The Walkers need help? With what? I'd do something, or might be willin' to. I generally get along with you all... Kevin and Tabitha especially. They're pretty cool, you know."

Shades-of-Gray sits thoughtfully, looking up at the ceiling. His fur bristles when Basil asks about his tribe needing help. My step-father... is... Italian. He taught me that the way to run a tribe is how you run a business. If you show weakness, you are inviting an attack. If Nat-rhya does not ask for help, then it is beyond me to suggest otherwise. Perhaps it does have to do with pride. Perhaps she does not know how to ask for assistance without losing face. I am here to do what I can. What I cannot... well, we shall see.

A certain scarred Native man enters the lobby, squinting in the dim lighting. Dressed in his 'street' clothes (jeans, shirt, and sneakers. All faded and worn), Touch Deer ventures forward towards the group, waving with a curt but polite nod. The wolf with the spiked collar catches his eyes, and he says, "Hey, Touch Deer. Wendigo Fostern of the full moon." And to the group, quickly, "I'm here to see Basil." He doesn't look particularly lighthearted today; the lines of a frown seem ready to appear on his face at any moment.

Runner swings her ears and nose doorwards, an ear flattening as the Wendigo enters easily. She snorts. That door should have been locked. The red and ivory-furred ragabash nevertheless greets Touch Deer with a welcoming chuff. And Basil is indicated with a swing of her head towards the cub's direction. He is healing well, she notes. And his tongue has come back to him.

Basil glances over his shoulder at Touch Deer, then looks back to Trent. "Thats pretty understandable. From many points of view it makes sense. I wish you luck on your... " The boy thinks for a few moments and comes up with a word. "Endevors? That works." He turns to look more fully towards Touch Deer, bowing to the tall Native man. "How may I help you today, Touch Deer-Rhya? I've been getting over this 'death' thing for a while here, so I couldn't have done anything wrong in the past few days."

Touch. Shades drops his head in respect. Last we met, you led us against the Smog Bane, he drops his mouth open in a smile, and then introduces himself. Trent Anderson - Shades-of-Gray Galliard Cliath of the Glass Walkers. It is good to see you again. Nodding to Basil, he nods again and replies with a simple thank you.

Touch Deer replies to the wolf with a deep chin-dip. "Thanks for joining the group that night. I'm glad to have a chance to meet face to face and trade names. I've heard of you from other of your Tribe." He smiles briefly, indicating this must have involved good things. Then, he walks to Basil and looks the boy over. "I'm just here to check on you, I heard about what happened. Scarred already!" He hits the boy good-naturedly on the shoulder. "And this axe...for your Rite?"

Runner sniffs, not quite admiring of the fact her cub is already scarred. The ragabash, though, is somewhat quiet in this mild protest. Rising back up to her paws, she rumbles to all about that she will check on Squeaks-Like-A-Rat and the wolfdog-kin for a moment. This acting as her out, she shifts up and heads for the theater. "Oh, and Touch Deer. I will need to speak with you about the rabies sickness going around," she mentions, before slipping into the auditorium.

Basil nods at Touch Deer, a look of faint concern being washed away quickly. "Yeah, I guess I am. I just wish it was from an enemy instead of a careless Garou." He taps the axe against the ground once. Though about to say something, he turns and waves to Yi, bidding her a good night before she's out of sight. "It might be for my Rite if I think I'll need it. If it isn't, I'll be using my claws. Depends on just where it's going to happen. I'd prefer to use the claws if I could, though... "

Shades-of-Gray barks quietly to Runner, thanking her for taking him out again. He looks surprised at Touch Deer's compliment, and tries to think of a Walker he hasn't gotten on the bad side of - or any garou, for that matter. The list is short. It was good to take part in a worthy quest, and he hopes to continue aiding the sept to the best of his ability.

"Absolutely, Yi. I'll see you about that, soon. All good medicine, say hello to Olga for me." He turns to Trent, a nod signaling his agreement with the Walker's last statement. Then, Basil finally gets his reply. "You can look at the scars as a badge of Glory, wherever they came from...but I understand what you mean. You can at least say you are a hundred times the man you were before you Changed, after what you have been through." He eyes the axe. "Have you trained with this at all?"

Basil nods at Touch Deer. "Yes, I have. And Tabitha did say it made me look better, gave me the whole 'Chicks dig scars' talk, and got me a few eye patches." He lifts the axe a little bit. "I've been training some by myself, but I'm better with the machete. I like the feel of a weighty blade in my hands more than an axe, and it's easier to recover with the machete. I just had to get something better than a knife. I want something that can really hurt a guy when I connect, and I can't do that with a switch blade. Besides, I've had to hack up bodies with a switch blade. It's a real pain in the ass." He scrunches his nose up at the memory. "Took forever. Blood all over the place."

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