Unknown Wisdom

9/30/2005

09:41 PM
Logfile from GarouMUSH.

Currently the moon is in the waning New Moon phase (16% full).
It is currently 21:37 Pacific Time on Fri Sep 30 2005.

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:
Jamethon(#3988PJXYce)
Obvious exits:
Rock Slab  Windy Spot  WaterFall  Steam Vents  

Runner lopes into the caern on this clouded, near moonless night. The Gnawer ragabash's semi-decorative, semi-functional dog chain clinks lightly against itself, announcing herself to the sharp of ear. Her own black-tipped ears swivel this way and that, listening to the sound of the caern's waterfall rumbling in the area. As she comes down the trail leading up from the valley, the ragabash pauses to look out over the view of the caern, admiring it, before proceeding down towards the center.

Fights-For-Hope is in the center, his body taking on the different forms through what appears to be some kind of kata. His movements, while not exactly graceful, are simply smoothly executed. They have a power behind them, a force and strength that drives his body to perform. A roundhouse kick in homid turns into a spin in the air as crinos, landing in the hispo then leaping forward and tucking into a glabro roll. All this and more part of a martial dance. He does seem quite lost in his exercise, one moment falling on his back in homid, then kicking back up in Crinos with a grunt he turns and his eyes focus on the source of the chain clinking. He is breathing hard, but this is only evidenced by the movement of his chest, his posture is quite neutral.

Runner's approach is slow in contrast to how she had come a few months back, to the caern's center to meet the very Get she watches now. Each part of the exercise is followed with the ragabash's golden gaze. Each part, analyzed and reacted to with some part of her body indicative of interest for the next set. When the theurge stops, she does too, one paw partly raised off the ground. It sets down slowly, accompanied with a dip of her head down to the crinos in greeting. The sky is clear tonight, she notes, if only to start.

Fights-For-Hope melts into the homid form, now seen to be dripping with sweat. After a moment to catch his breath he glances up to the sky and grins as he looks back down, "Small talk, Runner-yuf?"

Considering the sky is clouded over, the ragabash must not be making much sense. Or, she is making perfect sense. Runner chuffs in a verbalized shrug, sitting back onto her haunches. I came because it felt good to. And to see, what goes on here when we are not at moot. Still the Gnawer seems evasive. Distracted. Yet, thoughtful.

Jamethon tilts his head slightly then turns it slightly less, eyes remaining sidelong towards the Gnawer. "What is on your mind, Ragabash?"

Runner looks back, nose wetted by a flick of her tongue upwards. Slowly, her ears tilt back. Many things. Things about the Bone Gnawers. Things about my pack. Things about the ~sept.~ Things about myself. Things about here, now, later, then, before and after. Disjointed as her reply is, she sneezes after it and lays down. Right now, though, things about... things. She glances up again to the Get. It is .. complicated.

Jamethon sits down, cross-legged, regarding the Gnawer thoughtfully. "Your heritage shows the taintings of the Beast Court's influence in that part of the world. This," he pauses and a nods approvingly, "Is not a bad thing. Do you," he pauses again but more apprehensively, "Know much about the fera of Asia?"

Runner scrunches her furred brow up. Taintings? As if to examine herself, the ragabash cranes her head around to peer at her own body. Then she turns back to the theurge, mention of her homeland gaining more of her attention. In affirmative, she dips her head again. I knew of them. Honored Grandmother, Stargazer Teacher, and Uncle all spoke with them. I did too, rarely. Some times I think, though, I was sent away because Grandmother knew I would not fit as well with the strictness of the Courts.

Jamethon seems interested at first when Runner speaks of the courts. When she refers to being sent away he deflates a bit. "I was always interested in their ways, so very different from our own. A tradition of honor so deep it is near unfathomable. I..." he sighs and shakes his head, pushing himself back up to his feet while he expression returns to a more neutral and stern state. "Can your Gatekeeper do anything for you, Runner?"

Runner seems to ramble on at least for a few more moments of time. The rats and ravens always were more real about things. Chi-suckers always were backstabbers, they would say. Dragons, tigers. But the Bone Gnawers of the East are only a little different, in the whole... Then her attention snaps back like a rubberband. Anything? she whines in a brief show of surprise.

Jamethon crossing his arms listening, after his eye brows arch when hearing about dragons, he lets a grin take the corner of his lips. Then when Yi asks her question, the Gatekeeper narrows his eyes and the nods his head. "You may ask for anything, always. Just recall the wisdom of silence."

Runner seems a little more interested, a little more focused. Like a person with ADD disciplining herself, the ragabash lowers her head to her forepaws, still eyeing the Get, indeed searching out that wisdom of silence. It lasts all of a few longer moments, before she lifts her head up again. There are so many things to learn, she comments with a backwards tilt of her ears. And so many things to do. This scout is only one. But, I think... she searches for wisdom too, in that not known. Wisdom of spirits. Of those not yet asked for their knowledge. Maybe, to ask those outside what she is expected to know. Do you think... do you guess that such spirits would care to give their knowledge?

Jamethon seems thoughtful for a time, considering something deeply. Very deeply. A measure breath is given before he offers, "There is one spirit that would be willing to share such knowledge with those who seek it. Wise beyond our comprehension and has been served by Garou here in the past well. I will soon seek to pack under Uktena's wisdom, with Touch Deer, Stacey, Reggie, and whomever is true in their search for knowledge. When the totem comes to us, you can seek it out for the knowledge you desire."

Runner looks up in hope, but one could feel like it was battered against the rocks like those at the bottom of the caern's waterfall. I cannot leave Stag yet, the Gnawer admits, a sense of apology intertwined with the statement. But... what about spirits aside from the Uktena?

Jamethon cocks his head to the side, confused, then a moment passes and he shakes his head. "You need not leave anyone. Just seek wisdom. Meditate in the Caern umbra, and you will know wisdom you had not understood before."

Runner is not one who can speak much with spirits. She shifts herself, clearly trying to put logic into a form where logic doesn't usually apply. Her gaze flickers away, then back again. Do you remember when I asked for Fox's favor? When the spirit granted me the gift to mask my scent with that of water?

Jamethon nods his head and laughs heartfully. "Aye. I recall. I will always be here as a path to the spirits for those who seek wisdom."

Runner splays an ear, wondering in expression what the theurge finds funny. Then... maybe, it would be good to seek you out if I wished to learn something from the spirits again. She lifts her head a little higher, nostrils flaring with a long sniff.

Jamethon nods his head once more. "This I can do. You seek a gift of the spirits, and I will arrange for you to have a chance to do so."

Runner twitches open her jaws, looking a little relieved at that. That is good. She dips her head again, as a feeling of sadness washes over the joy. It is... always disturbing when things happen, and that those who have wisdom and experience are taken from us. The newmoon looks back up to the Get, as if wary about sharing her opinion. You heard of Firewatcher leaving the alpha position?

Jamethon narrows his eyes at the turn of conversation, but gives no obvious response at her question immediately. After a moment of standing rather stoicly he offers, "I plan to take the role of alpha." His eyes seek out Runner's now, stance obviously conveying dominance even over the other Fostern.

Runner doesn't seem inclined to challenge that dominance much, remaining where she lays, her ears ticking back a touch. You always seem to want to take something greater than what you have already. But. And here the smaller fostern dares to go, Are you ready for it? Ready for the challenges? The leadership? Being Alpha always makes wolves' fur grey faster.

Jamethon continues to stand strong and shakes his head. "No one here is ready. Not Touch Deer, not me. No one truely wants to take on the position. We would hope for older and wiser leaders. In these end times however, there are not so many of those around. We do what we must and stand strong. We know that the challenges will come, and we are forged in their fires. Made stronger and wiser in the roles until we truly are worthy of them. I do not want to seek the place of Alpha, but I must."

Runner inquires with a soft whine. Why? And there is Seeker, too. If... it is not strange that a Silent Strider is bound to a caern already...

Jamethon cocks his head slightly at the question, then further at mention of Seeker. "Would not be the first Silent Strider Alpha here. But the position of Warder is too important for one who has established themself in it to move to Alpha from." He looks up to the sky and grins, "And its because I am Get. I must stand before all challenges, offered and unspoken, and accept them bravely. We temper ourselves in every task that we can delve into. We die younger than most, perhaps, but we die with honor and glory and yes... with wisdom. So why? Because I am of Fenris. It is that simple."

Runner licks at the side of her muzzle, needing to peer up to try and cover the height of the Get. We do not need more to die, she rumbles in protest. We need them to live. To teach the young of ways that are being lost, and to remind them of things they would not see because they are blinded by youth. Then she looks off, ears turning as if in imitation of the gears turning in her head. Maybe I should challenge too. Though her gaze is looking elsewhere, it's still clear she's paying attention to the theurge. Just, because there should be a newmoon. To balance things.

Jamethon simply nods at the end and offers, "I would welcome the challenge."

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