A Little Help Here
2/5/2006
08:09 PM
Logfile from GarouMUSH.
Currently the moon is in the waxing Half Moon phase (57% full).
[Timewarped to Early Sunday Morning]
Currently in Saint Claire, it is clear outside. The temperature is 41 degrees Fahrenheit (5 degrees Celsius). The wind is calm today. The barometric pressure reading is 30.26 and rising, and the relative humidity is 87 percent. The dewpoint is 37 degrees Fahrenheit (2 degrees Celsius.)
Bawn: Western Forest(#3018RA)
Tall Sitka spruce and sequoia crowd around and above you. Many of the trees are old, their branches twisted into impossible shapes, trunks broad and draped with lichen, mosses and creepers. Tendrils of moss hand down from them like green spiderwebs, snaring the unwary with cold, ghostly fingers. The patches of younger growth are dense and pale, needles tinged with silver. Matted undergrowth huddles sullenly in the occasional small clearings, clutching with thorns and burrs at the legs of those who would pass. Deer seldom venture here, but the forest is full of rustlings, and tiny glints from wary, watchful eyes.
The forest spreads out to the east, bounded on the west by Sunrise Road. From farther to the west, one can occasionally hear the distant sounds of the town of Kent's Crossing.
Contents:
Stacey
Obvious exits:
Highway 22 Overgrown Path Sunrise Road Farmhouse Caern of the Hidden Walk Creek Central Bawn Southern Bawn Northern Bawn
Way early in the morning, in the hours just after dawn on Sunday morning, a howl rises up from the -very- edge of the bawn's west side. By the edge, meaning, perhaps a little too far off from the caern's heart, and a little too close to the (still) distant Highway 22. It's not a strong howl, but it's recognizeably Garou in flavor, not quite as natural as a wolf's might be in its exotic tone. But what makes the howl a bit disturbing is the warbling, wobbling quality to it. Still, it's a cry for help. It only sounds once, and then it fades off into the morning.
Walks-Middle runs onto the scene a few minutes after the howl sounds, apparently having been in the area. The young Guardian slides to a halt when she spots Runner, and chuffs an abrupt greeting. What help is needed?
The moment the Gaian sees Runner, it's quite obvious what's wrong. The first thing to hit is the stench as she nears. Blood, vomit, and things that are just Yuck to everything a wolf could possibly not want to smell on the Gnawer, it's there in recent memory-scent, only vaguely covered by the smells of water and weavery soap. Granted, the fostern doesn't look -injured-, but there is a sick patch of yellowish green mange-like fungus that is clinging to her fur, buried into her neck and upper body. The Gnawer just looks sick, sick, sick. But in the queasiness, she still remains coherent enough to try out a reassuring chuff. Walks-the-Middle-Road. Glad it is you, and not Circle Keeper. The ragabash stands from where she sat. I... think I need a healer.
Walks-Middle sneezes at the bad scents, looking disgusted, and shifts up to homid. "Goodness," the Child says, wrinkling her nose. "What did you get yourself into? Let me... I'll see what I can do, Yi-rhya." She steps forward and kneels before the wolf, looking the... wounds... over before she calls on her gift.
Runner lets her tongue loll out limply, panting in short, quick breaths and trying very hard not to hurl on the poor Child. Wyrm-men, is her response to the question. Grey and Bloods-Bane fought too. They went to the ~farmhouse~. Maybe found healer there too. The patch is... not something that should really be touched, it seems, but the Mother's Touch really does involve touching. The ragabash twitches here and there, restraining herself to not scratch. Need to check later, burn up dead bodies. The fostern's eyes are kind of grimy and distant in a way.
Stacey frowns at the Gnawer's explanation. "I see. I hope they did find someone to help, perhaps I should go and check there later and make certain." After saying this, she spreads her hands over the patch, closing her eyes as she concentrates on healing the wound.
Runner indicates that she hopes so too, and then falls quiet when the Gaian is concentrating. The first sensation is touching the fungal infection. It's kind of warm, spongy and slimy without being so, with small hard chunks dried up - just like vomit without the wetworks. The stink of it hardly goes away, but there's a definite visible improvement on the outside when her healing gift has faded in light and ability. Runner quickly paces off to a side, horking out a large couple wads of black and yellow-green lumpy somethings that steam and dissolve in the cold morning air. It's followed by a couple more dry heaves, and then the fostern is done being sick - for now. She lifts her head a bit weakly, ears laid on her head. Thank you.
Stacey shudders a bit after the Gnawer steps aside, then nods. "You're very welcome, Yi-rhya. I owe you, for the help you have given my cub. He has improved since your last talk, and I thank you for that."
Runner eyes the lumps as they cool and eventually melts down into the ground. Ground-Up? He had some trouble, yes. The ragabash turns a quick circle, casting an eye over what part of her she can see, just to make sure she's not really hurt. Then she looks up and chuffs. Just glad you have a sense not to kill first, ask questions after. She shakes herself out, loosening some of the clinging, drying and dying fungus on her fur. I should return to the ~car~. Must get rid of those Wyrm-men bodies.
Stacey bites her lip and then nods. "Came close, I admit. Um, Yi-rhya...? Well, I know you have to go now, but perhaps we could talk later this week? About Andrew?"
Runner pauses, paw in the air in mid-turn. She looks back. More about him? She seems to weigh various things in mind, and then dips her head low. It must be hard, not having Guards-the-Flame and Rifthealer to be guides. The fostern gives a sympathetic whine. I will help you teach him, as I was asked.
Staceface grins and looks immensely relieved. "Thank you, Yi-rhya. And it is hard; I miss them, as I'm sure you do as well. You knew them longer than I. Thank you. And Gaia guard your path!"
Runner manages a small lupine smile with a dropped lower jaw and tongueloll. Good hunting, Walks-the-Middle-Road. Then, she turns and trots off into the morning woods, tail being held out and up with a better cheer.
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