Trading Tips With Silvertip
6/28/2007
05:19 PM
Logfile from GarouMUSH.
Currently the moon is in the waxing Full Moon phase (90% full).
It is currently 17:15 Pacific Time on Thu Jun 28 2007.
Currently in Saint Claire, it is a cloudy day. The temperature is 65 degrees Fahrenheit (18 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from the east at 8 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 29.93 and steady, and the relative humidity is 75 percent. The dewpoint is 57 degrees Fahrenheit (13 degrees Celsius.)
Burial Mounds(#3207RJ$)
This wide clearing in the midst of short, dark pines is rough with wild grass and bare stone. The air is a bit cooler up here in the foothills than below, and the majestic peaks of the nearby mountains rear up over the eastern treetops. There is a vine-covered boulder standing under the edge of the somber evergreens to the east. The air here is prenaturally still and the grass waves not at all for there is no breeze that blows through the pines. It is silent, no call of bird thrown from the treetops to dance gaily in the open spaces. Occasionally chill fingers run up your spine.
There are +views here.
A faint path leading downhill to the west is the only exit from the clearing.
Contents:
Silvertip
Tokens for the Dead
Obvious exits:
Forest
Silvertip sniffs about here and there. The short, white wolf moves with a silence and stealthiness that seems to stand in stark contrast to what should be his fairly prominent pelt colour. He seems to swim through the forest like a fish through a stream, moving largely unseen as he follows some recent trail. He slows as he grows near to the burial mounds, peeking into the sacred place from the edge.
Though the Groundskeeper does much of the tending of the bawn, there's one other visitor today who makes her patrols through the site of the stones. Runs-the-Gauntlet pads over an unwritten path on the ground herself, weaving from stone to stone and reading the names of those in the past. With the wind completely still, and the lack of animal calls, her natural instinct is to be even quieter in respectful ceremony. The ragabash doesn't yet notice the white wolf in the trees, though her ears stand up and alert.
Silvertip continues to sniff about, ears erect as he strains to look for anyone else about. Finally, the white wolf plods into the clearing, and calls over to the Ragabash.
Runner twists her ears in the direction of the call, sniffing vainly at the still air on reflex before turning to pad over to the Uktena. You! You are here again, Circle Keeper? There's surprise written in her posture, and no small amount of wariness. It's the full moon, after all.
Silvertip waits a moment, before meeting Yi half way. He sniffs at her when he finally gets close, raising his tail in a dominant sort of way as he goes about the usual meet-and-greet. When he finishes, he signals a ready affirmative to her question, adding that Runner can also call him Little Silvertip Mauls the Horned Serpent.
Runner meets the ahroun's dominance with an equal ranking tilt of her own tail, making it a point to show her feelings about her standing now. The neutrality of it heightens with a prompt leveling out of her posture. Little Silvertip Mauls the Horned Serpent, what brings you here?
Silvertip bristles, the squat wolf cranking his posture up even further as the squat uktena attempts to look as large as possible. Curling one of his lips, he stares over in Runner's direction as he puts on even more airs of dominance.
Runner takes a step back, baring her teeth in a warning snarl at the ahroun. Her fur puffs out, though she doesn't match him in size. No, she doesn't yet back down.
Silvertip echoes the snarl, taking a sharp step towards Runner as the ahroun keeps his posture as it is. He continues to stare, trying to lock eyes with her if possible.
Runner's lips twitch back as far as they'll go, muzzle wrinkled up. Eyes meet, lock, and hold for the moment as the two wolves size each other up. The Gnawer raises her tail even in tense challenge.
Silvertip stares furiously at the Gnawer, making no headway in their staredown. He starts to paw at the ground, the white wolf mannaging to keep his temper under control for the moment.
Runner utters a low growl, tension rising between them. Her forepaws scrape against the dirt, shoulders stiff like the fur on her neck. The staring continues.
Silvertip edges on snapping, the Ahroun's temper suddenly flaring as if her scraping of the dirt had set him off. A loud snarl issues forth, as he jerks forward to narrow the already too-small distance between them.
Runner twitching on the edge of looking elsewhere, but finding something within her to keep staring directly at the face of danger itself, the Gnawer holds. Perhaps, foolishly.
Silvertip mannages to wrangle his temper a little better, eyes looking like they're slightly less bulging out of his sockets as he stares death at her. The snarl dies down to a more moderate growl as he squares himself against her.
Runner breathes out thickly through her nose, still keeping her eyes directed at the ahroun's. Her lips twitch down just a bit over her teeth at his relaxing, but the facedown is kept up.
Silvertip's temper starts to rise again, his eyes opening even more round as he forces himself practically into her face. He's not but a half metre away, and the stink of never brushed teeth and dog's breath is pungent in her nose. His snarl raises again, tail sticking out like some solid protrusion that you could hang laundry on.
On the rise of the next snarl, Runner looks truly intimidated and fearful of the approaching fullmoon. Just as suddenly as the staring had begun, so it stops as the ragabash backs away and crouches, tail lowering and curling at its tip beneath her. Her fur slicks closer to her, making the newmoon appear a lot smaller than before. A placating whine stutters through the air. You win. Don't hurt me.
Silvertip quickly moves to cap the ragabash, sticking himself over-top her and slightly to the side as he broadcasts his dominance with a vengeance. His back end comes down slightly, trying to knock her down a notch or two with a little more gusto than the wolfy-ritual calls for, but not enough to cause any serious harm.
Runner smushes against the dirt of the clearing, ears kept back firmly until the Uktena is satisfied. Her tongue slips out, licking in nervousness still. Her body rolls slightly to the side, going prone and exposing the ivory fur of her belly and underside to him.
Silvertip stands over her for a short period - though, what must seem to be a small eternity - before he hops off, takes a few steps to the side, and gives himself a hard shake. His breathing is a tad heavy, like the whole event was something athletic. He seems very focused as he pants lightly, like he's exerting his force of will on some monumental task.
Runner lingers on her side a little longer, waiting until he's finished shaking himself before she rolls up to being on her belly. Even so, her posture remains submissive to him now as she waits for him to do as he wishes.
Silvertip slowly, and forcefully, seems to get his temper under thumb (well, paw). He seems a tad calmer than he was during the stare-down, though much more on edge than when he arrived. With stiff posture, he slowly starts to tell Runner that Little Silvertip was looking for her.
Runner sets her eye level somewhere just off the white wolf's shoulder with the occasional flicking glance to his face. What does Little Silvertip search for her for? is her question.
Runner is the least white of the wyrmcomers at the sept, he states - his statement is apparently supposed to be some sort of praise, judging from his posture - Little Silvertip wants to trade with her to perform a rite.
The ragabash blinks a couple of times more, confusion at the praise evident as things don't quite register. She looks over herself on the mention of least white, and then back to Uktena. What rite is it?
Silvertip hesitates a moment, before answering tersely that the rite he wants performed is Rite of Passage. A few ticks pass, before he adds that he wants her to perform the rite they perform before sending cubs off to prove then can be not cubs.
The Rite of Passage, I know it, affirms Runner. Where would I go to meet the cub? I cannot leave the bawn yet.
Cub is at wendigo territory and Uktena territory, he answers, the Fostern looking rather guarded all the sudden. He takes a half step backwards, before squinting just a bit. This one only needs rite. He will challenge the cub with task himself.
Runner understands. The ragabash gives a small flicker of her tail behind her, glancing away again. Then, you will come find me when you need the rite performed?
Silvertip indicates an affirmative, before glancing off the same direction Runner does. He peers for a moment, before focusing his gaze on her again. Suspicion starts to creep into his posture, as he asks what Runner wants from Little Silvertip.
Runner slowly rises from the ground, shaking her fur. There's a long pause for thought and then comes up with a new question. Where is your sister, Pierces-The-Ice? I still need to find her, teach her too.
Silvertip's answer couldn't be more terse: Away. He looks rather defensive, to say the least. A moment passes, before he adds that Runner can also teach his other packmate no-moon things, for their other trade.
Runner quirks her head, trying to figure that one out. Which packmate is that? Will they come to the bawn, or be near it?
Hummingbird-Comes-Out-of-the-Mountain, Little Silvertip responds, his posture taking a rather annoyed 'well duh' note. Also in Wendigo and Uktena territory.
Runner's tail quirks behind her, the annoyance from the ahroun finding a little echo in her posture. I am not supposed to leave the bawn, insists the ragabash. Tell Hummingbird to come to the eastern bawn and I can teach there. She sits, and after another pause adds, maybe Hummingbird will be able to help in trade. I help perform the Rite of Passage. Hummingbird helps guard the bawn while I help scout with the Children of Gaia.
Silvertip's head tips to one side, the fostern's curiosity piqued. Taking a step forward, he asks what she's scouting.
Runner replies, A place away from the bawn. Spirits asked for help. The Children of Gaia asked for scouts. So, will you tell Hummingbird to come?
Silvertip watches Runner with considerable moment, his posture taking on a suspicious note. He doesn't respond right away, taking the time to peer as he sniffs at the air.
Lara enters from the surrounding forest.
Runner sits patiently now, using a hind leg to scratch an itch. Her part of the bargain proposed, she eyes Silvertip back, her decision withheld until he reaches his.
Where is Runner scouting? he finally asks, ears perking forward. The wolf continues to sniff at the air as he questions the other, head tipping to one side slowly. How long?
Running Elk comes ghosting through the trees, fairly silent (though not completely so). She's nosing around, possibly following someone's scent, or possibly just exploring. At sight of the two, she pauses briefly, left front paw raised up, and then she's moving again, ranging over to examine the boulder.
Runner answers the ahroun vaguely, replying she isn't sure how long it will be, but musing it couldn't take more than a night or so. The scouting is supposed to be at the spirit's den, but only the Children of Gaia know exactly where it is. The ragabash glances up as she catches movement, sniffing again at the still air. The newcomer's presence causes Runner to get up, tail flagging like a spotting signal.
Silvertip's head almost automatically pivots around when Yi looks over, his own tail raising for as long as it takes to recognize the cub. After a moment, his posture relaxes some - though, not much. Looking back to the Ragabash, he tells her that he will ask Hummingbird.
Running Elk seems unaware of Yi's interest in her, but after nosing the stone curiously (reading being somewhat difficult while in lupus), she trails towards the other two, ears twisting curiously.
Runner looks back to Silvertip, chuffing an acceptance of his statement before turning to peer at the cub. Rather than simply waiting for the cub to come, the Gnawer turns and trots towards her to meet half way. Her head cocks, regarding the newcomer in recipricated curiosity.
Silvertip, as Runner starts to head to the cub, squints at her. A few moments later, he turns and begins to lumber off and away.
Running Elk, as Yi pads over, takes the opportunity to sniff at her curiuously, back, front, and everywhere in between. Taking her cue from Yi's general bearing, she is submissive, though not excessively so.
Runner does take a dominant stance, but she looks back behind her to watch Silvertip on the go before attending to her own curiosities with the cub. I am Runs-the-Gauntlet, born of the new moon and Bone Gnawers, she introduces herself to the younger wolf. Who are you?
Silvertip lingers at the edge of the clearing of the mounds, turning around to look back over towards his cub and the Ragabash. His posture is hesitant, like he's locked in some indecision.
Running Elk's ears lower slightly as Silvertip heads off, but that is, evidently, soon forgotten, as they swivel in curiosity at Yi's introduction. Bone Gnawer. Wow. She adds, I am Elk Running Off Cliff, a half moon of the Water Serpent. His tribe, she adds, glancing again at Silvertip. It is good to meet you.
Runner sniffs a little more deeply of Running Elk's scent, a moment's curiosity satisfied only to be replaced by another. The ragabash notices the cub's 'wow', and inquires further towards that angle. What is it?
Silvertip continues to hang off by the end of the clearing, watching his cub's interaction with the Gnawer with sharp attention.
Running Elk explains, all innocence, I have just never met one of your tribe before. You don't smell as bad as I'd've thought.
Runner blinks a couple of times, and then barks once in amusement. Thank Grandmother I do not. Swishing her tail a couple of times more, she turns to walk a quick circle around the cub before facing the far off Silvertip. Then she turns back to the cub, to inquire, And what do the Children of the Water Serpent smell like?
Silvertip finally gives himself a shake, and resumes his outward trek. The fostern warrior makes his way off silently, with nary a good-bye.
Running Elk pads a bit away from Yi, chewing on this question. Like woods, and smoke, and mysteries. She adds, jaw dropping slightly, The mysteries smell kind of musty.
Runner's nose twitches in response, like she were trying to actually sniff out such a scent out of the Uktena cub and lingering scent of Silvertip. Others smell like mysteries too, remarks the ragabash in thought. Owl's children. Thunder's children. All tribes have their secrets.
Running Elk says, Yes. Her tail dances a bit as she adds, But we have publicity that /says/ we're like that.
Runner splays her ears at the cub's ready admittance. That is true. Others do say Uktena's children keep secrets. Sometimes, too many. After a moment, the ragabash's tail starts to wag slowly. So, you have met your first Bone Gnawer. What questions would you ask of her?
Running Elk sits down on her haunches and looks at Yi fixedly. Do you like where you live? What's your tribe like? Does your tribe keep secrets, too? Were you born here? I mean, at this Sept. Do you like it? She starts to add another one, but instead, apparently to shut herself up, she gets to her feet again and starts examining grave stones.
Runner waits for the barrage to die down before her first answer dares to peek out from the storm. The answer doesn't come immediately, but after the Gnawer shifts back to her breed form. Yi brushes off some of the grass and dirt from her baggy clothes and then smiles down to the curious cub. "I live here. This has been my home for years," she replies, "but it hasn't always been so. And yes, I like it enough to stay still. The sept, my tribe. Other tribes here. I have learned much since coming."
As Yi shifts, Running Elk can't resist padding over to snuffle at her clothing. I see. Where was your old home?
"Far across the ocean," Yi answers, standing still so the cub can inspect her clothing. "Where there are hardly any trees that aren't covered in the Weaver's webs, and no streets that have not felt the Wyrm's touch on them." Or, more concisely, "Hong Kong."
Once Lara's inspected Yi's clothes (bringing a small but distinct sneeze), she herself shifts (fairly smoothly) into homid. Her words are tinged with a Spanish accent. "Si? Porque-- I mean. Why did you come /here/, of all places?" Not, evidently, a fan of St. Claire.
Yi arches her brows as the cub makes her shift back, watching the change with an interested gaze. And with the added accent, the ragabash's head tilts a little more. "I came here to look for a Kinfolk, who I found had decided to find himself a better life than being Kin of the Gnawers." The newmoon shrugs lightly. "And why I chose to stay?" She gestures to the forest around, and the eerie gravestones.
Lara says, "Oh, well, /here/, I can see that. It is... not like my homeland, but it is beautiful. I meant, that city." She squinches up her face into a wince. "I am glad I am no' there anymore."
"The city has its own secrets," Yi notes with a glance in its direction. "And the city is still part of Gaia. To ignore it, to leave it to the Wyrm and Weaver, is foolish."
Lara glances that way too. "Didn't say leave it. Just... don' have to /live/ there." But she shrugs and drops it. "So what's being a Bone Gnawer /mean/?"
Yi falls silent for a short time, thinking on the girl's question. "A Bone Gnawer... is as much a Garou who fights for Gaia as the other tribes. We simply choose to do so in our own ways. The choice to live in the city is one we've made. Rat asks us to gather our numbers, but do so quietly, and gnaw away the corruptions that overcome what is the Scab. We understand that underneath the ugly outside, there is possibility for healing."
Lara considers this, as she sits down near the older woman. "Entonces--" She stops, looks irritated, and starts again. "So then, you are-- guerrilla warriors, of a sort?"
Nodding, Yi works a hand into her pocket. "I suppose you could say that. But there is more to it that is hard to explain. I would suggest if you want to find out more, to visit the city. Find out what life is like with Bone Gnawers, if you want to know more."
Lara says, almost regretfully, "Ciuraq will not allow that, yet. Quizas-- Maybe I will when I have Rited. But-- why is it hard to explain?"
"About as hard to explain as why an Uktena keeps secrets," Yi 'explains', mind gears turning. "Or, maybe like explaining why Circle Keep-- Silvertip embraces his lupus form so tightly."
"There's some ways to esplain the first," Lara says, thoughtfully. "In history and tales. I don' know the second. I never asked. He just /does/. That's what he's /like/."
Yi lifts a finger, pointing out, "And /that/ explains him without explaining. The wolf mind is different that way. In some ways, it is a comfort." She slips over towards the gravestones then, placing a hand on the side of one. "Bone Gnawers know the way to victory is to survive. To do that, we fight with what we can, using mind, body, spirit. And sometimes, we make our sacrifices that don't look good to others. But one thing is certain. A Bone Gnawer does not shun her family. It is sometimes, all we do have."
Lara fiddles with her moccasins as she listens. "Si," she says, quietly. "We Uktena know much of this, too." She jerks her head at the stone. "Whose? Were they family, to jyou?"
Yi nods slowly, looking down the carved glyphs. "I may not have known them all, but they are family. Some are not written here, even. Cubs. Kin. Others." The ragabash turns to gaze back at the Uktena philocub. "And what about you? Your mother and father? What brought you here to St. Claire?"
Lara's expression darkens. "Mi padre, my father, he did. He got a job here. My mother--" She makes a flying motion. "She died, when I was younger. They gave me some false explanation, to cover for it, but I learned, once I changed, that she was an ahroun. So." After a moment, she adds, still stonyfaced, "I do no' like being lied to."
Yi bows her head slightly with the mention of the girl's parents' fates. "My mother was a theurge," she says with a glance skywards. "My father died as well, not too long before her. I suppose I am glad I did not know until later, what happened to them." Then looking back to the halfmoon, Yi smiles wanly. "Honesty is something the halfmoons do prefer, I find. I wonder, how do your elders teach you about the other tribes?"
Mercurial as ever, Lara grins. "They tell me not to trust Wyrmcomers. They tell me that I should watch out." The cub shrugs. "I would do that /anyway/. Gringos son locos-- Crazy. But since they tell me this, and then nada mas-- nothing much more-- I look to find other details. Because there always are. Facts and information that *matters*." She looks up from her moccasins. "That is also the half moon in me. Or so I think."
Yi smiles, adding to it a thin chuckle at the cub's words. "A halfmoon finds balance. It gives me hope to know you look for such things. But still..." She gazes next towards the direction of the bluff and eastern mountains, words slipping away and returning like lapping waves. "Using words like Wyrmcomers to describe the Garou of this sept... it only pushes them further away."
Lara says, suddenly intent, "Many things push away. It is never jus' one thing." She shrugs, taking off her moccasin entirely, the better to fiddle with it. "They react to things long past and things recently passed. Those things, too, cause division."
Yi grows a little curious to the cub's fiddling, eventually drawing closer to have a look at the shoe. Her gaze travels from the moccasin to the cub's face afterwards, studying her focused expression. "Will you be one to try and bring them back together?"
Lara flips the moccasin away, as she meets Yi's gaze briefly. "Me? I can't be some... hero like that. What I /will/ be is one to live and keep the ways. That can only jhelp to bring the separated together. Or... so I think."
"Oh," Yi remarks as she meets the cub's eyes. "You will surprise yourself I think. It just may be those things that make the right things happen. And maybe one day you will find yourself in a hero's shoes." The Gnawer speaks optimistically, offering a smile along with it and a gesture to the surrounding stones. "Every name you see here is a hero too, after all."
Lara scans the stones, slowly. "Si." She studies them for a moment longer, and then she puts her moccasin back on, and melts into lupus again. I must go. But thank you.
Yi bows her head once more, acknowledging the young cub. "Gaia grant you good hunting, young one. And... mm, hasta la vista, baby." She couldn't help herself. And yet the ragabash looks awfully proud to know some semblance of Spanish, or what she thinks is Spanish. Even if it did come from a movie.
Running Elk chuffs at her in amused thanks, and heads out, in the direction Silvertip went in some time ago.
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