Gnawer Rite of Passage Gifts: Basil's Side

10/9/2005

07:29 PM
Logfile from GarouMUSH.

Currently the moon is in the waxing Half Moon phase (44% full).
It is currently 19:24 Pacific Time on Sun Oct 9 2005.

[TIMEWARP NOTE: This is timewarped back to the night of September 28, 2005, the night of the Bone Gnawer Cubs Rite of Passage.]

Odeon - Theatre(#3973RA)
The floor sticks to one's shoes like flypaper, and the seats all sag limply under even the slightest pressure. It's dark and dank with the evaporation of untold unknown liquids, and sounds echo menacingly off the soundproofed, honeycombed walls. The theatre is like a giant abandoned hive filled with row upon row of empty egg sacs; about a hundred of them, arranged in two columns, with three neat walkways, one through the middle and one on either side. High up and inset over the lobby doors is the projectionist's booth, a small alcove overlooking the theatre; opposite it is the screen, framed by ratty curtains that no longer close, and taking up most of the wall. It can no longer serve it's purpose, though: the screen is no longer blank, scrawled across it, from top to bottom, is a disconcerting mess of fluorescent grafitti which glows out bright oranges and greens even in the dark theatre. Like massive glowing worms the lines coil in and out of tags and outlines of images, in a roiling, reeling, psychedelic nightmare. The hundred empty seats all point towards it, mute and dusty.
Contents:
Squeaks
Obvious exits:
LObby  Alley  

"Welcome back." Yi bids all the cubs to take up seats along the front row near the circle, demeanor pleased, but still with an air of ritual. As the cubs rest, she calls up the cubs one by one, listening to their stories. It is Basil she calls to soon enough, the others having been laid upon their seats as they enter a meditative state. She gestures for him to sit in the circle, slightly smeared by the entry and exit of a couple other cubs. In the mortar and pestle she grinds at, a reddish fruity smelling paste that seems to combine with the burning herbs and incense to push away the musty odors of the Odeon theater within the small area.

Basil has been sitting quietly the majority of the time, lounging around in his blood and gore smeared clothes as if he was watching TV in his underwear. "My turn?" He asks Yi with a cough, and shrugs, hoisting himself out of his seat and walking over into the circle. "I feel like Olga must feel after baby sitting Squeaks with a bitchin' hang over." Once in the very center of the circle, he falls to one knee then onto his rump, propping his arms up on his knees. "Gimme a minute now, let me think where to start. I'm not good at the story thing. I mostly read'm."

The heavy scent of the smoke is not unlike that of the factory's gas - just without the burning toxicity. But it does muddle the brain a little, making details a little wavery but not opaque. "I know what happened," Yi replies, mixing away. "But I want to know /your/ story."

Basil bites his lip and lurches forward, barely keeping himself from launching into yet another coughing fit. "Alright. Well we were gettin' ready to go into the place, and I thought that, hey, maybe just one leech. You're a Ragabash. Recon might be right. Other entrances might be trapped. So, fuck it. Maybe the most unexpected attack is a frontal one. Me and the others busted into the place and went all furry, and we could hear the sounds'a some people moving around in the back. Couldn't see shit. Wolf eyes are over rated."

Yi shrugs a shoulder, still mixing. Something is dropped into the bowl. "To a wolf, eyes are not the strongest sense," she agrees, refraining from added comment.

Basil says "Better than human eyes in the dark, though. The nose wouldn't work in that gas shit anyways, and fighting by scent would suck even if it did. Anyways." Basil shifts forward in his seat then settles down again. "So we made first contact and I took down one or two, Masao and Aaron came up and around, and Christine was on my.. Left, I think. We kept going in, Masao took heavy damage, Aaron wasn't lookin' too good and neither was Christine after one'm puked all over them. Killed him, and I was attacked by a pukey one too. Took'm down after he doused me. The more we killed the more of that shitty gas built up."

Christine, resting on the chair, has watched the proceedings with eyelids lower and lower. Eventually, it becomes apparent that she sleeps. Her blood-caked face is lax.

Nodding slightly, Yi also listens to the storytelling. "Fomori," she comments in thought.

Basil rolls his shoulders. "They looked like friggin' zombies to me. The gloves kept some of the stuff off me, but I've got a wound on my chest that stings like a son of a bitch. Formori are a lot easier to kill then I thought they'd be though. We still couldn't see what we were fightin' and it was gettin' harder and harder to breathe." He glances over his shoulder towards Squeaks and the others for a moment, then turns back to Yi. "I wanted to pull back a little from the gas, regroup. Too confusing in the dark. Someone had a flash light that they dropped, and I grabbed it, shine'n over when I heard Masao call for help. Kicked the asses of the things that were attacking her, along with the others. Then we bugged out to regroup, get air. I carried her out."

Yi nods again, eyes squinting slightly with the telling. Squeaks lies sleeping, lulled by the incense. "I heard from Aaron you tried to lead the others," she notes.

Basil lifts his hands up at his sides with a small, growlly sigh. "Leading Garou is like trying to herd fire. No wonder why Olga's always so tired lookin'." He drops his hands, shaking his head. "Tried to wake Masao up when she looked bad. Couldn't get her awake, there was blood all over the place." Basil looks away from Yi, lifting a hand to tilt his hat back. "Thought she was going to die. Aaron started takin' her back to the Odeon and I went in, finished off the zombies or whatever that weren't dead. Some guy was all whimpering, praying in the dark somewhere." He folds his hands across his lap, looking up at the theater ceiling. "Three humans, all crazy or near death. One looked like a Jew outta Germany in nineteen forty five. You coulda used'm for a lock pick."

Yi breathes, "Delirium, and starving maybe." The ragabash's eyes stay upon the bowl's contents, her hand pausing in a moment of silence. "Then?" she continues after a beat.

Basil says "Then they died. I killed them as quickly as I could. I didn't know what they'd seen and what they didn't, but even if they hadn't saw us it was a fair bet the leech did something, or the other things. Didn't have a choice." He lowers his gaze back to Yi, making eye contact for just a moment before looking to the side. "Went back out and met Christine, when Masao and Aaron came back, we went off to an alley to heal, then came back again. We went in and started cleaning up, Masao found some hole and we tossed the bodies in there. I took off the heads of a couple of them, just to make sure before they went in. The leech was in pieces and I took her head off too. I remember hearing a legend a while back about Vampires that are floating heads, with their organs hanging down... So, shit. I made sure again, and pulled out her fangs. No one can take their teeth being ripped out and not make a sound. They'll make a good necklace."

Yi furrows her brow. "You have these teeth?" she asks, leaning forward slightly to see.

Basil nods, his eyes drifting back to Yi. "I thought you might want proof, too." He takes off his muck spattered, blood soaked gloves and digs into one of his pant's pockets. He removes a balled up napkin, unrolling it to show her four teeth with dried blood both on them and the napkin itself. "I figure it might also help with my image. Not only did I kill a Wyrm thing, I ripped out their fuckin' teeth to use for a necklace."

Leaning forward, Yi squints her gaze to examine the teeth. "I would be careful when you choose to wear such as your trophy. But proof it is." The ragabash sits back again, a little disturbed, but otherwise unphased. Picking up the bowl, she dips her fingers into the mixture. "Lean forward." When he does, the ragabash begins to paint the paste gently upon the skin of the forehead and cheeks. "Your elders recognize you deserving of the rank. We must see if the spirits feel the same."

Basil puts the teeth back in the napkin and closes it up, putting it in his pocket and looking up at Yi curiously. "Why? I thought Garou would appreciate something bad ass like that." With a shrug, he bows his head to the Ragabash. "Thank you, Yi-Rhya. I am glad that I have done my duty to your satisfaction, and hopefully... To the spirits'." The ahroun leans his head forward, not flinching, staying as still as possible as she paints him.

"The danger is not the Garou," Yi says quietly as she draws slight streaks to one last part of the cheek. "But the vampires and their servants." The ragabash is serious about it, but soon she sits back and waits, watching the ahroun. The paste is cool, tingling like burn cream, and the feeling progresses from the face down into the rest of the body, urging it towards sleep. Eyes grow heavy, and vision blurs, the candlelight flickers closer and closer until darkness envelopes the mind. When the ahroun wakes, it is to a gentle feeling of warm around the skin, where he finds a stray dog licking his cheek in a darkish alley. Strings of webs clearly indicate a takeover of the Weaver in the area, but in the alley, there is little to see by the light of an Umbral-looking half moon hanging directly above.

Basil says "How are a dead Vampire's teeth dangerous?" As soon as the words leave his mouth, he starts to feel the effects of the paste on his body and mind. "Damn Yi... Can I get some of that in a tube for lat-" He stops when his eye focus enough so that he recognizes he's not in Kansas, or the Odeon anymore, studying the dirty alley walls painted by the pale light of Luna. "... Shit." He lifts a hand to pat the dog on the side of the head, turning his head to look at the hound. "I guess you're Toto."

The dog lolls its tongue when it is patted, tail-wagging when it sees the ahroun is awake. It's scruffy like a stray, but also undeniably somehow 'more real', as such things happen to be when in the realms of the spirits. *Play,* the dog-spirit barks, voice sounding audibly just as a bark, but the words translating somehow within the mind. That command said, the dog turns quickly and trots off towards the alley mouth, disappearing around the right corner.

Basil gives it a parting scritch behind the ear before the spirit turns and runs off, both his eyebrows raising up as he watches it go. He pauses after a few breaths, then takes in a deep, full chested breath that doesn't cause him to burst into a coughing fit. Pausing momentarily, he slaps a hand across his chest and feels only pain from the slap, not from exposed nerves getting hit. "Alright." Basil says, pushing himself up looking around quickly. "So... I'm dead?" He wonders allowed, quickly walking from the alley and trying to look in every direction at once as fast as he can like cartoon, giving the web a wide berth, searching for the dog and any threats.

The alley mouth opens up to a street, where down the way of the sidewalk is the mangy stray dog. *Come! Play!* it barks again, taking off up a hill and disappearing from the crest. The wind picks up, blowing strongly and playing with strands of hair.

"Sure. What the hell." Basil, not immediately seeing any threats at all, runs after the dog down the Umbral street. He gives the webs as much space as possible, keeping a wary eye out for any spider beings, yet doesn't stray too far into the street less he end up like Kevin. "Where are we anyways?" He half shouts with new found breath, glad to have his lungs pumping fresh air again.

The spiders on their webs don't seem to be doing much but waiting there, frozen in time. The ahroun's question goes without an answer, as over the hill and down the street forms into a large greenish-blue-grassed park with trees galore. It looks like a much much grander version of Harbor Park's glade. *Play!* barks the dog again, and it starts circling all around with its nose to the ground, hunting about for something.

Basil stares at one of the spiders as he passes, toying briefly with the idea of screwing with the webs. Once in the relative safety of the park he stops to regain his breath and fiddle with his hat, his eye remaining on the dog spirit. "Play how?" He walks over towards it, following the creature on it's hunt through the park. "It'd be nice if there were more spirits like you."

The dog jerks its head up, and trots forward to meet the ahroun. *Find it, find it,* it pants with a tongue loll, going back on its hunt. *find it, find it, find it...* the spirit repeats on its on-going search. Around the large park, a scanning reveals that it's just trees and grass, however. The wind blows again, causing webs to wobble, but the spidersilk holds firm.

"Find what?" Basil asks, watching the dog for a moment or two before searching the ground with a few quick glances. With a shrug, he shifts down to lupus and gives the dog a little room for it's own searching, pressing his nose to the ground, searching for the scent of something that doesn't belong. Is it neat?

The dog seems intent on finding /something/, but to what that something is, the canine doesn't seem to answer at all. A minute of aimless searching passes by, before a young male voice calls out from the top of the hill up the street. "Oooooy!" A teenager by looks, with dark black skin and wide white teeth comes jogging down the mountain. His clothing, rags at their best, flutters in the wind. The dog that was licking Basil's face looks up at the voice, and barks in excitement, abandoning its search and charging up to the other boy. The two collide at the edge of the park, laughing in their own ways. When the new arrival notices Basil, he peers curiously with dark eyes around the scruffy dog's neck.

Resists-Dance looks up and lowers his head when he hears the sound of someone's voice, spacing his front paws and waiting for whomever it is to come. When he sees the new spirit and the dog's reaction to him, he slowly eases out of his aggressive posture and shifts to the form of glabro. "Friends? Or are you it's owner? Never was good at this sort of thing." Basil makes no move to step forward or back, watching the two attentively.

Two eyes look on with awe at the shifting of the ahroun. Compared to the glabro'd ahroun, the youngish teen just sits there on the ground staring. After a whisper of wind pushes along a leaf on the ground between them, the boy stands up. "...I'm Mac. Who're you?"

Basil says "I'm a lot of things." He reaches into one of his pockets, sighing as he remembers he gave all his candy to Squeaks. "A bastard, a pain in the ass, a really good ski ball player. But I guess most of all I'm a Garou, Basil. They call me Resists-the-Dance."

"Aaaah," Mac says slowly, showing whiter teeth than a Crest whitestrip commercial. "They call me White Fang." He indicates the dog, who sits beside him. "You were playing, weren't you? The hide-and-seek game."

Basil says "Something like that, I think. Spirit asks me to play, and I have no idea whats going on. So why not? It's not like I've got anything better to do, and it seemed to have more answers than I did. So, I followed it."

Mac nods, but then grins whitely at the ahroun. "Well if you've got nothing better to do, how 'bout you and I play a game? If I win... mmm... you dance and dance around in circles until you get real real sick." Mac straightens, looking really confident. "And you do it naked!"

Basil smirks a little bit and shakes his head, lifting a hand to touch to the front of his hat. "Sure. But being naked doesn't really phase me anymore. I've done it in front of girls, boys, and other. So whats the game supposed to be?"

Mac pouts, and looks off. "Hm. Well if you're going to be all uncool about it, maybe I won't tell you what the game is and you can figure it out for yourself, smarty pants."

Basil lifts his hands and drops them, shaking his head from side to side. "I didn't say I wouldn't do it. If you want to see me naked that bad I could just strip anyways."

"Tcheee, that's not fun either," Mac protests, arms folding over his chest. "Why don't you think of something then? What games do you know?"

Basil thinks for a moment, turning his head to one side and rubbing his chin. "Tag, hide and go seek, checkers, chess, black jack, poker, uh... Hrm."

Mac looks up at the first suggestion. "Tag?" he echoes, trying to hide his interest but failing obviously. The dog by his side looks up between the two, floppy ears pushing forward. *Find?*

Basil lifts his hands and drops them. "Either way. Like I'm going to say no to a spirit. I've got a little bit of an advantage if I shift, but... Hey, you know. You could put in rules or whatever."

"Hmmm," Mac muses, "Alright. Then..." Quick as a blink, the dark-skinned teen jumps forward and past the ahroun, smacking him across the forehead as he runs down towards the center of the park. Though the hit isn't hard, it pushes the ahroun back so that he falls backwards. "Tag!" A loud whoop utters out from the teen, Mac running away with a jubilant laugh.

Basil opens his mouth as if to say something, but the sudden 'blow' catches him off guard and the Ahroun windmills his arms and steps back in an effort not to fall. He fails, and falls down to the ground with a dull thud. In the absurdity of the situation he can't help but suddenly burst into laughter himself, whipping himself up to his feet and taking off after the teen at full speed. "I'll get you yet!"

The dog seems to catch onto the excitement, letting loose a volley of barks. *Play! Play! Play!* It too, chases after Mac, its paws seemingly not even touching the ground. Mac runs as fast as his feet will take him, looking behind him to see how far the ahroun is. Gradually, it seems like the full moon is just within lunging distance.

Basil grins like a man that's just found a porno magazine inscribed in platinum, willing his feet to carry him those few extra steps, oblivious to the magic floating dog for the moment. He throws himself forward with a grunt of effort, stretching out one hand to swipe at Mac's back, the other going out to break his fall and help him rebound.

Shapeshifting is a mutual talent it seems, as Mac jumps forward on all fours, with Basil's swipe missing his back by less than an inch. Another blink of the eye later, what was a dark skinned teen is a black furred wolf, bounding away and off to one side with a pink tongue lolling out from between bright white fangs. Mac the wolf is quickly overtaken not by Basil, though, but by the dog. The two go tumbling in a furry pile of yips and yelps, limbs flailing out everywhich way.

Basil hits the grunt with a surprised yelp, sliding forward a few feet on his shoulder. He pfts a few blades of grass out of his face, watching the scene unfold through a veil of green. "So you're a Garou too. But I haven't met you before... And everything is weird here." Basil pushes himself up onto his knees, fumbling in the grass for his hat. "You're the spirit of a dead Garou? Are we really in the city still?"

Mac and the dog tussle some more, before the Garou wins out and smothers the smaller dogspirit with a hefty pin. The dog gives readily, but its tail wags with obvious pleasure. When the black wolf glances up at Basil, the lupine shifts back. "I told you, didn't I? I'm White Fang. I play here." Mac untangles himself from the dog, and the both of them walk over to the ahroun. "You're pretty good at playing. But you don't play around when you have to do things, do you?"

Basil rises up calmly and walks over to him and the dog, reaching out to pat the canine on the head. "I'd give you any food I had, but I already gave it to a Tribemate before my Rite." He turns his attention back to White Fang, shaking his head. "Not most of the time. Depends on what I have to do, and how important it is. People think I'm lazy, and thats fine with me. Just another Bone Gnawer. *I* know I can, and have done what needs to be done when it comes down to it."

"Like those people?" Mac asks, adjusting a crick in his neck. "You didn't /really/ have to kill them." The teen purses his lips in pensive thought, seemingly unaffected by the running and wrestling from just moments ago.

Basil says "They saw too much." Basil's ugly glabro mug goes still, the happiness that drains from it mimicing his voice. "What other choice did I have? What would you have done to them? Would you have just let them go?"

Mac sticks out his lower lip, eyes roaming skyward where the stars twinkle and the colors seem to shift indiscernably. "Well, some things can't be helped I guess." Then Mac's gaze jerks over to the glabro. "But you can't go killing everyone you think needs killing! You got to talk to them some times. Except, sometimes, they don't want to listen, and you still got to keep talking." The smile reappears, white on black. "For you, Kills-the-Cries, you should learn how to talk to people." Mac strides over, shifting to match the glabro for form, clamping a hand on his shoulder. When they contact, the Ancestor's hand is oddly warm against the chill of the Umbral night air. The warm slips up to the mind, where it stays there like a cloth pinned on a line, fluttering near-formlessly. "And you certainly shouldn't do it like this. You'd be scary!" The black and hairy glabro laughs deeply, shrinking back down.

Basil says "I don't have the power to start my own genocide anyways. Just like I don't have the power to change things when they've gotta be done. Killing them isn't something I wanted to do. As soon as this shit gets out of my lungs in the real world, I'm going to go buy a dime bag and get stoned out of my mind, so maybe I will see you again after whatever this is has passed." He closes his eye, letting out a whispering sigh. "Do what like what? Talk in Glabro? No, Veil and all that you know."

Mac nods emphatically. "Talking to people when they don't know about us, scares them. Same with animals. But we don't mind, right?" The teen turns to the dog, who joins them with an almost bored whine. Then Mac beckons Basil closer, to whisper in his ear. "I'll tell you a couple secrets, because you played with me." The softest whisper reveals a couple more secrets. One, that the wind which the teen used to impossibly push the ahroun down could be harnessed, and how. And two, that the dog's game of hide-and-seek is really, just to find the ball that he buried beneath the big tree in the center of the park, behind the second root. It's there. It's /always/ there. The dog just forgets all the time.

Basil says "Didn't I have to kill them to protect the Veil?" He lifts his hand to rub at his temple with his thumb, stepping closer when Mac beckons him, listening closely when the spirit starts to speak. "Secrets are always useful... Thank you." He murmurs, his eye finding an interesting spot on Mac's shoulder to stare at. "Why don't you get his ball for him if he wants it so bad? And where are we? I know we aren't in the same city Umbra as Saint Claire. It looks alike, but it's different."

Mac says with a step back, "Because he asked you first. It's his game, not mine." The boy scrubs at the back of his head, revealing another hole in his ragged shirt. "And you'll see when you find the ball."

Basil lifts his hands up, then drops them at his sides. "Ok then. I'm going to go look for it. And thanks." He lifts a hand and gives Mac a light pat on the shoulder, flashing a half hearted smile. He turns and starts to walk towards the center of the park, guessing on the bearing.

The tree's not hard to miss. Dead center, biggest one there is. A spreading oak, with many climbable limbs, looks older than the dirt it grows out from. Second root from the fat one, in a little ditch. The dog trails along after Basil at a lope, once more sniffing around with avid interest. The ball itself isn't hard to find. It swirls, blue, white, green, just as the world would look from space, if one has seen the pictures. And it glows softly, pulsing with an inner, regular light.

Basil's brows shoot up when he pulls the ball from it's hiding place, his hand going a bit slacker around it. He leans in closely and studies the rotating sphere, quietly, for at least a minute straight. It's probably the quietest he's been in months. "... You've got a really nice ball." Basil touches it, carefully, gently with an extended finger from his free hand.

The dog notices the glow as the ball is extracted, which sets off another round of barks. *Find it!* The canine charges over, sniffing happily at the ahroun's hand. The dog is genuinely radiating happiness, almost glowing as much as the ball is. Afterwards, the dog settles down and looks uncharacteristically still. It shivers with excitement, and then to the ahroun its speech gets more coherent. *You found the prize.* The spirit no longer speaks vocally, but with a sort of transfer of thoughts. *Do you see why I search so much?*

Basil says "Yes... Yes, I do." He falls to one knee in front of the dog, so greatly captivated by the ball that he doesn't even realize he's being telepathically communicated to. After only a few more seconds of staring, he places the ball between the dog's front paws. "You should hold tightly to such a treasure, and never let it go. It is an awesome object. One that people from long ago would have thought was a gift from the Gods."

The dog lolls its tongue, eyes squinting slightly. *Such things cannot be held by one. But I thank you for finding it. Know this, Kills-the-Cries. You can find anything, even the world, if you look hard enough.* The dog rises once more to its paws, rearing up, lifting its nose and nudges the ahroun's cheek. The transfer is fleeting, but again that warmth of feeling passes from spirit to Garou. When the dog falls back onto its paws, the ball is gently picked up with sharp toothed jaws. *You have been given your Gifts. Use them well, and wisely, Bone Gnawer.*

As the spirit communicates its final words, the ball in its mouth starts to swirl and glow brightly. Soon its light is like looking into the sun itself, blinding and almost painful. The world whites out, and just as quickly falls back to darkness. Gradually, individual senses return. Touch. Taste. Hearing. Smell, of herbs and musty odors familiar of the Odeon. And finally, when eyes open, the dim waving shadows and light of candles. Yi stands at the corner of the ahroun's vision periphery. "Another wakes," she whispers softly. Unfortunately, with the return of the senses, is also the return of the pain from injuries, and labor of breathing.

Basil sits up suddenly, much faster than he should considering his injuries. He bends over himself and groans, panting for air then breaking out into another series of coughs. "Shit, argh. My fucking lungs." He grips at hos knees, squeezing tightly. "What was that? Where was I? Why didn't you say anything about going somewhere else? Ugh... I wish I was still there. At least I could have a smoke."

Yi lifts a hand, as if to catch the ahroun if he were to fall out of his seat, but stops as he stabilizes. "I suppose," Yi says with a thought, you were taken to a realm of dreams. The spirits choose where to meet you, not me." The fostern steps a pace closer. "And with lungs like that, I am surprised you still want to smoke." Wetting her lips, Yi asks after another beat, "So, are you still the one who Resists-the-Dance?"

Basil says "After that, I don't just want to smoke. I want to get stoned out of my mind." Basil shakes his head, rising up to his feet and nearly falling over, swaying in place for a few seconds as though drunk. "Ever hear'a someone called 'White Fang'?" He turns his attention to her, staring at the Ragabash. "No. I am now Kills-the-Cries."

Yi ponders over the name for a moment, and then bows her head once. "Then, Kills-the-Cries, you will soon be introducing yourself as cliath ahroun of the Bone Gnawers as well." She smiles and sighs out with relief, looking to the last, Christine, who is slumped over in the circle. "Go ahead to my flat, and join Masao and Aaron there. Leave your old clothes in the laundry basket, and help yourself to the shower and kitchen. I am sure Christine will wake in a little while."

Basil flashes a small smile over at Yi in turn, then looks over at the sleeping form of Christine. "Good luck." He murmurs, grabbing his gloves and walking up the alley towards the lobby. He waves over his shoulder, his posture a bit more slumped then usual. "I'll see you later, Yi-Rhya. I'm going to go play your Dreamcast."

Nodding once more, Yi lifts a hand to wave, and then sets herself back down to wait for the last. She watches the ahroun depart until he has disappeared up into the lobby, before turning back to the lone theurge.

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