Meeting Ako
8/29/2007
11:05 AM
Logfile from GarouMUSH.
Bawn: Northern Forest(#3012RA)
Dark and forboding woods stretch in all directions but the north, the trees close together as if they were soldiers closing ranks against the enemy of Man. The trees here are tall, and close off all light from above, like they were pillars in some vast cathedral to Nature. Songbirds flit between the branches and the snuffling of small animals comes from the brush if one listens close enough. The busy interstate highway to the north, though, drowns out most of the subtler sounds in that direction.
The northern edge of the bawn is marked here by the unavoidable length of Interstate 90. Near it, the sounds of traffic drown out the more natural sounds of water and wildlife. In all other directions, the traffic noise recedes into the background.
Contents:
Christine
Squeaks
Olga
Ako
Morgan
Obvious exits:
Interstate 90 North Lone Boulder Western Bawn Central Bawn Eastern Bawn
From Bawn: Northern Forest, Song-of-Luna can be heard to howl, ~A new Garou is here, free of the Wyrm's taint. I ask for a guardian or the Warder, and any other that would like to meet him.~
[Olga pages to the room: Christine howled as well, Yi, seconds thereafter, to say she was back. It was awkward and coincidental and amusing. And then Bug invited her over, so she came, and we trailed.]
Ako sits back down in the silence. After a few moments he begins to hum again.
Christine is long in arriving after her distant introduction, and she steps into view not in the form that brought her voice here, but as a shortish homid with a tossed salad of vegetable matter stuck in her hair--moss bits and all kinds of evergreen chaff. She has been preceded for almost a minute by the sound of undergrowth trampled undersneaker. To the lupus nose she would reek of pine sap and lipsmackers and--more faintly--car exhaust. To a homid one, she would smell of nothing so much as old sweat.
Ako stands up as the girl comes in. He smiles to her warmly and bows, but remains otherwise silent.
Runner is somewhat long in arriving. A few snapped twigs and rustling brushes later, the Gnawer ragabash's familiar red and ivory lupus form leaps over a low bush into view and she slows down to a halt, tongue lolling out and panting in short, quick breaths. Guardian, here, comes the fostern's initial response. After a short sneeze, she pads forward, form shifting to that of a hispo and sniffs at the new (and old) scents coming from all.
[look Ako (homid)]
Ako stands just over six feet tall with a lean muscular frame. His skin is the tanned olive of many egyptians, but his hair is a dirty blonde. Out of his lean face peer two blue/gray eyes that shine with the same wonder seen in a small child's. His voice is friendly and warm, and his speech a bit fast. When he moves it's with a smooth, slight grace gained from confidence alone.
The man is dressed in well worn boots, into which are tucked faded cargo pants held up by a worn leather belt. His torso is covered in a black and green vest, but otherwise bare. The only visible jewelry is a hemp cord around his neck, ohh which dangles a small pewter owl. He has a small backpack slung over one shoulder that seemes well stocked, but far from full.
PB:2 APP:4
Occasionally the heady stink of two wolves follows Christine's northwards, though it mingles with the hundreds of other Garou scents that fill this place. A lupine Fat-Ripper and a larger Squeaks trail the girl, hidden by ferns and the canopy's darkness. They stalk her about five metres off, slowly spreading out on either side.
[look Christine (homid)]
She is an Korean girl of middling height and slinky build, in middle adolescence. Her black hair is cropped quite short, in something that could be described as a pixie cut if it had that much intention to it. There's never a hint of makeup around her large, brown eyes, or her serious mouth. She wears an artsy assortment of castoffs and Goodwill-finds: markered-on sneakers, patched jeans, a skin-tight tank-top and several strands of plastic beads. She is extremely pretty by conventional standards, with smooth skin and features arranged in perfect Greek proportions. She carries a faded backpack. She's on the cleaner end of the Bone Gnawer Hygiene spectrum--she smells like flavored lipgloss more often than BO, she is scrupulously washed, and her chronically dirty nails are concealed with a layer of hooker-red enamel.
Ako remains quiet as everyone arrives.
Morgan turns toward the newcomers. Christine's arrival is met with a pleased sort of wariness, as odd as that sounds, though her attention quickly shifts to Yi. "No Wyrm-taint," she says. "Strider." And then Olga comes and...Morgan just stares at Squeaks, and falls silent.
Christine grins as she gets bowed at and fans herself theatrically with her hand. "Oh my," she says. She has a backpack filled with bulging lumps, which she is quick to slide from her shoulders onto the ground. An unreadable look at Bug. "Hi there.." Her eyes follow the direction of Morgan's back and back and would certainly find Squeaks, but there's Yi! "Hey! Hey!"
Ako bows to Runner and smiles.
Runner's inspection is slow. Thorough, one should call it. Once all is checked out, Christine receives a heavy, pleased chuff of welcome. The other arriving Gnawers get a further sniff and acknowledgment. It's the new-newcomer, though, who is turned to and receives slightly less warmth and a tone of formality in the Guardian's rumble. ~I am Runs-the-Gauntlet, fostern ragabash of the Bone Gnawers, Guardian of the Hidden Walk, sister of its Guardian pack, Stronghold, under... Bear.~ The pause before naming the totem is significant enough, accompanied by a wary tilt of her ears. ~What do you call yourself, Child of Owl's Brood? Where do you hail from, and why have you come here?~
When she's spotted, Squeaks stands up at her full height and freezes there, watching Christine with large amber eyes and a vacant, slightly nervous expression, like a prairie dog watching distant prey. She spends a couple seconds like that, just staring, slowly reaching down for her tail and pulling it up into her reach, scratching at it like it's some neglected pet, before she finally abandons the last pretense of stalking and rushes towards the girl, all claws and teeth and enthusiasm. Fat-Ripper lopes over roots and around bushes as she closes in on Christine from behind, low against the ground, just visible between the slats of trees.
Morgan does nothing but continue to stare at Squeaks. She doesn't seem able to tear her gaze away. Almost of its own accord, one of her hands lifts to her mouth, and she chews on her knuckle.
And last, but not least.... "Oh my God!" Christine goes reflexively into glabro as the crinos comes barreling at her, clothes and sneakers blurring with her, and backpack dwarfed at her feet. ~Look who's out of the pen~ she exclaims.
Ako nods in acknowledgement of runner's introduction speaks, his words a bit fast. "I am Races-the-Wyrm, cliath Galliard of the Silent Striders, memeber of the Sept of the Anciant Giants. I come in travels to learn more of the Nation and its members first hand. If I may be allowed to spend time here I would gladly pay chiminage in stories or any way I could help the Sept, Runs-rhya.~
Runner splays an ear as Squeaks abandons control to barrel down on the theurge. The hispo lightly sidesteps, allowing for welcomes and other things, pausing in interrogation to greet Fat-Ripper and the young pre-change more gesturally and vocally once they're closer. Then, it's back to Ako. ~Where is the Sept of the Ancient Giants?~ she inquires a little roughly after the Strider, only made so by the fullness of the moon.
Squeaks comes to a neat stop about a metre from Christine, dropping artlessly down to all fours. She leans forward like she's not quite willing to touch the girl, like she needs to keep ready at any time to dart back to safety, and she sniffs gingerly at her to see where she's been and, more importantly, if she has any food on her. Then she merely stares, glassy-eyed and curious. Olga meanwhile has shifted, attacking Christine from behind, wide arms high over her head like a bear in full display, ready to wrap the girl up in a hug that would surely crush a lesser friend.
Ako says, ~The Sept of the Ancient Giants is located south, in the state of California. It's name is due to the giant red woods that surround it.~
Morgan takes a step backward. She's pretty much useless for anything at the moment, as she's preoccupied with her staring. She looks she's about ready to bolt.
There is, indeed, the telltale whiff of hiker's fare in Christine's backpack--dried meat and mixed nuts and noodles. Chris returns the bearhug in something less than full force, though for lesser force more than for lack of enthusiasm. "Olga, hey!" She wriggles a little in the hug and gives the other theurge a closed-fisted pound on the shoulder.
Runner looks on to the affections being lavished on Christine by the other Gnawers, and gives a sigh of mixed contentment. Back to Ako and Morgan, her demeanor resumes its 'professional' air. ~Song-of-Luna,~ rumbles the Guardian to the cliath Fianna. ~Please take Races-the-Wyrm to the farmhouse. Make sure he knows what its rules are.~ The hispo turns an eye back to the Strider. ~You will find our Sept Alpha there, most likely, to offer your chiminage to the sept should you wish to stay. For now, you may stay there, and the nearby forest. Beware the territory of Wildfire to the south of the farmhouse. Until the Sept Alpha or the Warder meet with you, do not set foot on the bawn any further than its western tips.~ The last bit is spoken with a warning flash of fang, just in case. ~Understood?~
Ako nods. ~Understood Runs-rhya, thank you.~
Ako can't help but hide a smile as he says this, he seems a little antsy all of the sudden.
Olga releases her hug as she steps backwards, the big woman rubbing at her recessed chin with a greasy fist, looking Christine over up and down, proudly, anxiously, a grin stretching her thin lips wide enough to show the yellow tea-stained teeth beyond. She tears herself away from her contemplation suddenly, looking at Ako with a faint air of embarassment but no repentence. "Hey, sorry," she apologizes halfheartedly. "Reunion. Grand Duchess Olga Sergeevna Borodin. Fat-Ripper. S'a pleasure, welcome and all that." Squeaks continues to stare at Christine, or more properly, at the girl's backpack, until, as she slowly circles around the girl, she catches sight of Morgan's stare, and shifts her gaze accordingly, radiating discomfort and intense curiosity in the prick of her ears and the cant of her awkward head.
The antsy touch is noted in Ako, but Runner dismisses with a flick of her ear. ~Ears-to-the-Ground is the Caretaker. Respect her word,~ she adds as a final touch to the Strider, and she turns to leave on patrols again. There's a final look back to the Gnawer bunch, but soon the ragabash is off plodding away on larger paws. No goodbyes, evidently.
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